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dottielovegood · 3 years ago

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ASMR - chapter 3

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

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You can find chapter 1 here and chapter 2 here Read this fic on AO3

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Chapter 3

Luckily for Azriel, the next day was a Saturday, which meant that he didn’t have to go to work. The only plan he had that day was his gym appointment at 7.00 in the morning, just like every other day. Cassian and Rhys often gave him shit for going to the gym that early in the morning on weekends, but they had partners to enjoy the days with. Azriel did not, which meant that working out was a good way to pass time. Especially for someone like Azriel who didn’t sleep and seemed to have more hours to his days than most regular people did.

However, today he woke up to the sun shining in through his window. He picked up his phone to check the time and was surprised to see that it said 9.23. He never slept that late. And he never slept that well.

She made me miss my gym appointment, Azriel thought to himself and couldn’t help but smile. And then it hit him. It was 9.23. That meant that Flower Girl ASMR would call him in exactly 37 minutes, and he hadn’t even had coffee yet. Azriel quickly got out of bed and hurried to the kitchen. While the coffee was brewing he jumped into the shower. He didn’t know why, but it felt wrong to be on the phone with her without having a shower first. Just like it would feel wrong to show up to a date without showering.

This is not a date, he told himself as he tied the towel around his hips and walked back into his kitchen. Azriel lived in a studio apartment, which meant that his ‘kitchen’ was actually a corner of his living room/bedroom. It was quite big for a studio apartment and he could easily fit his bed, a big sectional, and a dining room table in the room. There were exposed bricks on one wall which gave it a rustic feeling, and the white sleek details everywhere else made it feel modern and minimalistic - just like Azriel preferred.

Azriel leaned against his counter and sipped his coffee. He glanced at the clock on the wall which told him that he had 15 minutes left before the phone call. His hands were sweating. Was it because the coffee was so warm? Azriel tried to tell himself that the coffee was the reason for his warm hands, but it was more difficult to find an explanation for the butterflies in his stomach.

He was nervous. Not because of what they were going to talk about - he could probably guide someone through this in his sleep. But because she made him nervous. It’s one thing to see someone in a video and talk via DMs and an entirely different thing to facetime that person. What if she thought that he was ugly?

As the thought entered his mind, he shook his head as if trying to shake the thought away. Why did he care? He was just helping her with a problem. It didn’t matter if she found him ugly because this was a one-time thing. He would never see her again.

The butterflies turned into a tight knot in his stomach.

Azriel let out a low groan and went to his wardrobe to get dressed. He put on a black T-shirt and black jeans - his standard uniform. He dried his hair hastily with the towel before throwing it in the hamper.

At 10.00 on the dot, Azriel’s phone started ringing on the kitchen island. Or vibrating actually, since he always kept the sound off.

Unknown number is calling

Azriel stared at his phone, suddenly feeling very shy and questioning everything he knew about computers. He checked his reflection in the microwave and let out a deep breath before answering.

“Hello, this is Azriel.” His voice was hoarse, sounding deeper than usual.

“Oh, hi!” A cheery voice said and he was a bit taken aback. In his stupid brain, he had imagined her answering in her whispering voice. “Is this… is this Shadowsinger?”

Azriel decided that her normal voice was just as wonderful as her whispering voice.

“Yeah, this is Shadowsinger. Or well, that’s not my name. I’m obviously not called that. That would be weird…” Azriel babbled, growing more and more self-conscious by the second. He took a deep breath. “I’m Azriel.”

“Hi, Azriel. I’m Elain.” He could hear the smile in her voice and it made him think of sunshine and flowers.

Elain. The name suited her. It was a welsh name that meant fawn. Or at least that’s what Feyre told him one night when she had spent three hours going over possible baby names with their entire friend group (After three hours, Azriel, Cassian, Mor and Nesta had been very drunk and started suggesting weird names from TV such as Khaleesi, Anakin and Buffy which led to Rhys kicking them out.) But Elain wasn’t a weird name. It was pretty. Just like the person that the name belonged to.

“Hello, Elain,” Azriel said quickly when he realized that he had been quiet for a short while.

“Azriel is… an interesting name.” He couldn’t tell from her tone if it was good interesting or bad interesting.

He chuckled. “Yeah, try growing up with the nickname ‘Ass’ in school. Not Az. Ass.”

He could hear Elain laugh and it warmed his heart. “Oh no,” she giggled.

There was a stretch of silence then, both of them unsure of how to begin this.

“So...” Elain started after a few moments. “How do I block words on Youtube, Azriel?”

As soon as the words traveled through the phone, he wanted to ask her to say his name again, but that would be weird. So instead he cleared his throat and got himself into work mode.

“Well, I didn’t know if you were a visual learner, but I created a Youtube account yesterday so I could show you what to do, and you could just follow along if you like?”

God, was he doing too much? Would she find this creepy? Maybe he should just tell her what to do without video.

But to his surprise, Elain did not sound creeped out. “Really? That would be so helpful! How...How can I see your screen though?”

Azriel huffed a laugh. It was kind of cute that she was so oblivious when it came to technology even though she had 250k followers on Youtube.”Well, we’ll change to FaceTime and I will be able to flip the screen and just show you what I’m doing. Is that okay with you?”

He was met with silence.

“Elain?”

“Oh, sorry. I was nodding,” she laughed. “Yes, that’s fine.”

Azriel clicked the icon for FaceTime on his screen and within seconds, her face filled his screen. Her brown hair was in a high ponytail and she wore a mint green hoodie. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and Azriel had to catch his breath. God, why did she have to be so beautiful? He realized that he was staring at her through the screen but his brain wouldn’t form words.

“Hi,” Elain smiled, her cheeks turning pink. “I kind of forgot that we would see each other and not just a screen. Sorry that I look like a mess. I’m going to the gym after this...” She gestured to her hair and Azriel had no idea what mess she was referring to.

“What? You look wonderful,” he said and as soon as the words registered in his brain he wished to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground. He winced. “I mean... I just–” he was making it worse. Lovely. “I just meant that you don’t look like a mess.”

She gave him the sweetest smile. “Well, You don’t look too bad yourself.” She was blushing even more now. Was he blushing too? He had never blushed in his life, so he didn’t even know what that would feel like, but he did feel a bit hot.

Azriel cleared his throat. “So,” he started. “I’m going to flip my screen and film my laptop now. Tell me if you can see what I’m doing.”

“Okay!”

Azriel logged into Youtube and held his phone in front of the screen. “Can you see?” He held the phone in front of his computer, and even though she couldn’t see him anymore, he could still see her.

“Just a second,” she said and held up a finger. She was moving and so was her camera. When she reappeared, Azriel was very happy that she couldn’t see him. She was wearing glasses and they made her, if possible, even more attractive. Her beautiful golden eyes looked even bigger. Like a fawn, Azriel thought to himself.

“Yes, I can see when you have the phone so close to the screen,” she answered.

“Okay, good. Are you near your own computer?”

“Yes! And I’m already logged into my Youtube account.”

Azriel nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Great. Then you should see your profile picture here in the corner.” He showed her where to look.

“Mhm, I see it.”

She was focusing so hard on the screen, she had probably forgotten that he could see her. She was leaning in close enough for Azriel to see her freckles.

I want to kiss every single freckle on her body.

The thought entered his brain before he could even react and he was very happy that she wasn’t a mind reader. He tried to ignore her face on his screen and focus on his task.

“You will click the photo, and that should display a menu,” he explained. “Like this. You are going to click ‘Youtube Studio’ here.”

Elain scrunched up her nose in concentration and Azriel thought that he might die from the cuteness.

“Done! What next?”

“Okay, then you click ‘Settings’ at the bottom here,” he showed her where to look. “And then you choose ‘Community’”

“Community?” She asked and bit her lip.

Azriel wanted to bite that lip too.

“Yeah,” he answered, happy that he didn’t have to come up with more advanced words.

“And then you scroll down to ‘blocked words’ here,” he instructed. “Are you there?”

“Yes, I found it,” she answered with a smile.

“Well, aren’t you a gold star student?” Azriel joked and Elain’s face went from smiling to blushing in a nano-second.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

There was a beat of silence again. Azriel wanted to kick himself.

“What now?” Elain asked in a low voice, still determined to get this over with.

“Well, now you just fill in the words you want to block. Make sure that you separate each word or phrase with a comma. And then you just press save and that’s it.”

“Oh, okay. That was easier than I imagined.”

Silence again.

“Can you manage from here?”

Elain bit her lip again. She was staring somewhere behind her phone; probably at her computer. “Ehm, I’m not sure what words to block.”

Azriel thought back to the awful comments he had seen and could think of a handful of words.

“Well, just block the words that these commenters often use, and maybe block bad words in general? You can review your comments later, so if nice comments are being filtered, you can choose to restore them while deleting the bad ones.”

Elain nodded and Azriel didn’t know if he should hang up or stay. So he stayed. His camera was still facing his computer, and Elain was still filming herself. She looked lost in thought.

“Are you okay, Elain?” Azriel asked cautiously, afraid to startle her.

“Hmm?” She looked straight at the camera now, eyes still glossy.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just… tired. I really like doing ASMR, but this sucks. I just want to make people happy and spread positivity, you know? And still, I have to deal with this.”

“Yeah, that must suck.”

Azriel had a question that he had been burning to ask, but he didn’t know if it was too personal. However, as he told himself before, they were never going to see each other again. He could always ask, and the worst thing he could get was a ‘no, I don’t want to talk about it’.

So he asked.

“Elain, can I ask you something?”

She nodded absentmindedly.

“Yesterday you wrote that you had blocked those trolls multiple times. Are you certain that they’re the same people?”

She nodded again. “Yes. In the beginning, they were a bit more creative with the usernames which threw me for a loop. But I realized that it was the same IP addresses every single time, so yeah. I know. I mean, I get hate from complete strangers too, but these people are a bit more persistent .” The last word was spoken through her teeth. She looked upset, but she also looked like she wanted to hide it. Azriel decided to switch his camera back to his face so she wouldn’t feel as vulnerable. And so he wouldn’t feel like a creep for staring at her.

Elain looked a bit startled. “Oh, hi again,” she smiled, but it wasn’t as genuine anymore.

“Do you know these people?” Azriel asked through gritted teeth. He didn’t know why, but he felt very protective all of a sudden.

“Yes, I do. At least the three people that commented yesterday…” she bit her lip again, probably contemplating if she should tell him more. “It’s my ex.”

Azriel tried his hardest to not look surprised and pissed off at the same time. “All three of them?”

With a surprised look on her face, she shook her head quickly. “Oh, god no. No. Just one. His name is Graysen.”

MortalGraysen. Azriel remembered the username because it had sounded so stupid.

“And the other two?”

She let out a long breath. “His stupid best friends, Amarantha and Hybern. Stupid names, right?”

Azriel could only agree. “Very. Why is he bothering you like this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Elain took off her glasses and massaged her temple lightly. “I dumped him after he slept with Amarantha and then…” she chewed the inside of her cheek. “Then he told all of our friends that he only slept with her because I was so boring in…'' her cheeks flushed again and she didn’t finish that sentence. She didn’t have to. Azriel understood perfectly.

“Okay, so he really is an asshole then.”

“The biggest.”

“Well, I don’t think you can block IP addresses on Youtube, but you could always try to block their names. It might work for a while at least?” Azriel suggested. He needed to help her.

“That’s smart!” she exclaimed and sat her phone down to type. He was very happy that she had leaned it against something so he could still see her.

“What other words should I add?”

Azriel thought back to the comments he had seen. Boobs, nudes, cock, jerk off and tits were all words that she should block, but they were also words he didn’t feel like saying in front of her.

“Just check their old comments and block the words they have used.”

“I’ve deleted the comments, but I remember a few words.” She typed again and Azriel could tell that she was uncomfortable.

“Hey, just block all sexual words and maybe swear words? That should probably work for a while?”

“Okay.” She typed again while Azriel waited patiently. Honestly, he would probably wait forever if it meant that he could watch her on his screen like this.

He felt like a teenager with a crush on the coolest girl in school. He knew that she was out of his league, but his body had not gotten the memo…

“I think I’m done,” she announced and smiled at her phone. At him.

Azriel smiled back. “Which words did you write?” he asked out of curiosity.

Elain picked up her phone and switched the camera so he could see her computer. In the box for ‘blocked words’ she had indeed written a few words.

Blocked words Graysen, Hybern, Amarantha, Boring, Dumb, Stupid, Weird, Ugly, Penis, Vagina, Sex, Sexy, Breasts, Feet, Ejaculation, Nipple, Damn, Fuck, Darn it, Hell,

“Do you think that’s enough?” She asked him in a low voice as if she was ashamed of what she was showing him.

Azriel had to bite his lip in order to keep himself from grinning. It was kind of sweet that she had written down the more technical terms, and not any words that would actually be used on the internet.

“Well, I think it’s a good start,” Azriel answered. “But I think there are a few more words that you should add. And maybe some you can remove from the list.”

“Which ones can I remove?” She leaned closer to her computer, probably trying to find the redundant words.

“I don’t think that trolls will use Darn it, for example.”

Elain pressed the backspace key a few times.

“And which words should I add?” she asked the screen. Her glasses had slid down her nose a bit and Azriel had an urge to reach through the screen and push them back into place.

Azriel scratched his chin, thinking about the best way to phrase it. “Maybe a few synonyms for the words you have written down?”

“Such as?”

Azriel held his breath. “Well…” Azriel hesitated. Was she serious or was she just trying to get him to say dirty words? “I don’t think that internet trolls will use the word vagina.”

“Oh,” her ears turned a lovely pink color. “So I should just add synonyms for that word then?”

“Sure.”

Elain looked lost in thought for a moment before typing again, this time a bit more aggressively. “There are quite a lot,” she muttered.

“Really?” Azriel could only think of two; pussy and cunt.

“Yes. I googled it.”

Of course, she googled a list of synonyms for vagina. Azriel couldn’t hold back his grin this time. She gave him a look he couldn’t decipher. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, still grinning. “Can you read me this list of synonyms?” he teased, thinking that she would tell him to fuck off.

He was wrong.

“Well, there’s pussy, cunt, vajayjay, punani, ho-ha, flower…” she drifted off and Azriel could tell the exact moment it hit her that she was reading these words to a man she didn’t know. “Oh, god,” she groaned and hid her face in her hand. “Please ignore everything that just happened.”

Azriel chuckled. “I rather not. What’s the weirdest word on the list?”

He was invested now.

Elain looked at him through the screen again, but this time he could tell that she was suppressing a smile. “The weirdest one must be fish taco, or bald man in a boat. One just sounds disgusting, and the other one is just… weird? Like, I don’t get it.”

“I think that the ‘bald man’ is supposed to be the...uh,” Azriel could not finish that sentence. He knew that he was blushing now, too.

“Oh,” she said looking surprised, and then disgusted. “Oh, that just makes it worse.”

The laugh that followed was contagious.

As she laughed, Azriel thought back to the day before. To when he had watched her video to fall asleep. In her videos, she was so calm and collected - the complete opposite from this bubbly, laughing person on his screen. Both sides of her were equally fascinating to Azriel and he wished that he could get to know her better. She was so easy to talk to. Azriel never found anyone easy to talk to. At parties, you could find him in the corner with a drink and a good book. He was not a talkative man. But with Elain, he wanted to talk. And he wanted to listen. He wanted her to tell him about her day and her life, which was absurd. They had been talking for like 30 minutes. They didn’t know each other. They would never get to know each other.

“Thank you for helping me with this, Azriel,” Elain said when the laughter had died down. “I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for being a bit weird and reading you that list. I hope that I didn’t cross a line or…”

Azriel held up a hand to show her that he didn’t mind. “It’s no problem, honestly. I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much.”

Elain shifted in her seat and picked up her phone again, moving it closer to her face again. “Just like you couldn’t remember the last time you had slept well?”

For a second, Azriel was truly afraid that she was a mind reader because that meant that she had heard him think that he wanted to kiss all her freckles. And then, he remembered the comment he had left on her video a few days earlier.

“Yeah, just like that.”

She leaned her head to the side and regarded him through the phone. “Is that true? You can’t remember having a good night’s sleep?”

Azriel shook his head. “I have suffered from insomnia since I was a child. Sleep has never been a positive experience for me.”

He had never opened up like this to anyone. His former girlfriend never understood why he was awake and why he hated sleepovers. The insomnia had definitely destroyed a few relationships over the years. He could tell that Elain wanted to ask about it, but she didn’t. He really appreciated that.

“Well, I’m happy that I can help you with that anyway. It makes me feel less horrible for making you help me with this on a Saturday morning,” she said and gestured to her computer.

“You didn’t make me do anything. I offered. I was happy to help.”

She gave him the sweetest smile yet and Azriel was surprised when he didn’t melt into a puddle. “Well, thank you. Can I pay you for your trouble?”

Before she had even finished the sentence Azriel shook his head. “No, Elain. I really don’t want you to pay me.”

“Okay,” she bit one side of her lip again. Those damn lips. “Can I give you something else then?”

Did her tone sound flirty? Azriel didn’t know. He might just be hopeful because he started imagining all kinds of things she could give him.

“Like, maybe you could tell me your favorite trigger and I’ll make sure that my next video includes it?”

Azriel swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling very thick. “You don’t have to do that, I...”

“But I want to,” she interrupted. “What’s your favorite trigger?”

Azriel was trying to figure out a way to tell her that she was his favorite trigger without sounding like a serial killer. “Well, I don’t really know. I like when you whisper,” he tried, and when she smiled and nodded encouragingly, he continued. “Honestly Elain, I have tried to watch other ASMR videos but they don’t make me fall asleep. Your videos make me fall asleep within minutes. Whatever magic you put into your videos, that’s probably my trigger,” he half-joked.

“Hmm,” Elain regarded him. “I’ll figure something out.” She winked at him teasingly and Azriel hated that this was the first and last time he would ever get to talk to her.

“Well, I really have to go,” Elain declared. “I’m meeting a friend at the gym.”

“Yeah, I have to go too,” Azriel lied. He would have canceled any plan he ever had if he could continue this conversation.

“Well, thank you again for your help, Azriel.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She removed her glasses and looked straight into her camera. It felt as if she was staring into his soul.

“Goodbye, Shadowsinger.”

“Goodbye, Flower Girl.”

The call disconnected and he was left staring at his apps. Not a single one interested him.

With a heavy sigh, Azriel walked to his bed. He was planning to lay down and scream into a pillow when he received a text from a number he didn’t recognize.

New message I searched for a few more synonyms, and this one for penis is horrendous. Just listen to this: Meat banjo. Isn’t that just horrible? I’m definitely blocking that word.

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. It really was a horrendous synonym and he could imagine her sitting in front of her computer, making disgusted faces at the various words on her screen.

New message Oh, this is Elain, by the way.

And that’s when it hit him.

She had texted him and he could see her number. That meant that he could save her number on his phone. It also meant…

Well, he honestly didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t feel like screaming into his pillow anymore.

#elriel #elriel fanfic #azriel x elain #azriel #acotar #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #elain x azriel

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starkeristheendgame · 5 years ago

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okay so i just got my first ever massage today and holy crap it was so sensual. and i was wondering if you could write something where like tony’s had so many massages in his life that he knows where the best spots are and peter is stressed cus of college or whatever and tony gives him a massage and peter cums just from tony giving him a back massage.

Ooohhh, yes! I’m not one for massages personally because I kinda hate being touched by people I don’t know, especially like that, but I’ve given a few to friends and received a few from past lovers, so I hope this is to your liking! Thank you so so much for the prompt! I added a little dry humping in this, too, because cumming just from a spinal massage seemed a lil too unrealistic.

Super healing was all well and good, but Tony knew well enough that it didn’t mean the absence of pain. He’d been around Steve long enough to know that in some cases, it even amplified it. What was feeling your bones and muscles stretching for each other if not painful?

Watching Peter wince and reach for his lower back for the fourth time since they holed themselves up in the lab, Tony knew the answer. The kid had taken a pretty decent battering on the field - No broken bones, but plenty of taut, aching muscles.

“Hey, kid” Tony called, setting down the holo-pen he was using and motioning for Peter to join him. The boy moved happily but gingerly, overcareful of stretching too much as he bounded over to Tony’s side.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“You doing okay? You’re creaking more than I do”. Tony had just began to come to terms with the fact that his age unfortunately hadn’t slowed down. He was verging on fifty, greying at the temples and finding it harder and harder after each battle. He was by no means unfit, but age was unkind to even superheroes.

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark. Just kinda twinges a little” Peter shrugged, and visibly regretted it. Tony cast the kid a pointed look, and he deflated slightly. “Okay. So...It kinda does suck. But only a little! Like, a day or two and I’ll be fine. Hot baths help, too”.

Tony gave a considering hum and reached up to rub at his jaw. “What about massages?” He asked, and Peter blinked at him.

“What, like...Some stranger rubbing you all over while you wear nothing but a towel?”

Tony huffed a laugh. “I don;t know what porn you’re watching, kid, but the majority of places ask you to wear your underwear or a bathing suit”. Peter went a pretty shade of dusky pink, eyes flitting anywhere but Tony’s face as he died a little inside.

“Uh. Well. No to either. Both! I mean...I’ve never had a massage. Its just a little weird, isn’t it? And expensive” Peter rambled, gesturing meekly. Tony supposed it was a little strange, but he was also not ill-advised of the merits of a skilled masseuse.

“Cm’ere” Tony coaxed, motioning Peter closer. The boy frowned a little, but was mostly curious as he stepped forwards, and Tony grasped him by a lithe shoulder, turning him until the kid was facing away from him, and Tony could see the smooth lines of his back through his shirt.

He reached up and set his hands on Peter’s shoulders, brows furrowing as he carefully felt about the honed muscles. God, but Peter was tense. Not coiled like a spring, but he definitely wasn’t lax as Tony pressed his thumbs gently into the meat of his shoulder. Peter jolted in surprise but visibly forced himself to relax as Tony began to knead at him, and after several moments, let out a soft sound.

“Huh. That’s...Not so bad” Peter admitted, when Tony was digging into the space between his shoulders, paddling out the tension across his spine there. Tony gave a light smile and a hum, to show that he was listening to him.

“You feel like someone just caught you jacking off, kid” he chuckled, and then paused. Perhaps...Not the greatest choice in words, and he hurried to wipe them from immediate existence. “I know you got pretty beat up out there, yesterday. How about I book you in with my guy, huh? You can see him whenever you feel too...Tense”.

“I don’t know, Mr. Stark. I mean, I don’t think I want some stranger feeling me up” Peter replied, but it was quiet, distracted as Tony let his hands dip a little lower, to the point where his spine began to broaden out into shoulderblades, pawing at the meat and bone.

“Have a think about it” Tony urged, thumbs pressing against the dip of Peter’s spinal cord, and the boy gave a muffled, sharp sound. Tony almost, almost paused, but he knew pleasure when he heard it, and continued wordlessly. And he was kind of glad he did, because when he took the selfish opportunity to run his hands down Peter’s spine, the kid truly did feel like he’d been tazed or something.

“Jesus, kid” Tony whuffed, petting gently at the locked up muscles. Peter ducked his head and then looked over his shoulder at Tony, almost shyly. Tony greeted him with a small smile and let his knuckles graze the delicate outline of the boy’s spine, not enough to really do enough except indulge himself.

“Alright, here. Sit on this chair, facing the back” Tony instructed, motioning to his abandoned stool. It had a sloped back, and Peter twisted, moving cautiously but clearly interested to see where this was going to do. He took a moment to psych himself up as he watched Peter splay those toned, lithe thighs around the chair, watched the shirt hug his back when he leaned forwards.

But Tony was nothing if not a pleaser, and he stepped forwards, waggling his fingers and then driving the heels of his palms against the small of his back. Peter made another of those soft little noises, and Tony offered a smirk, brows furrowing as he focused on mapping the lines of Peter’s body, each slope and curve and each battered muscle.

Somewhere along the five minute mark, Peter’s head was lolling and on every other press of Tony’s hands he was uttering pleasured, sighed little sounds. It sang through Tony’s veins, catering to every nurturing and giving atom in his body. Peter was growing laxer by the minute, and yet...

“Hey, kid. If you wanna get the most outta this - And this isn’t a come-on, but you ought to be laying down, and I’ve got a perfectly working bed one floor up” Tony remarked, trying his hardest to word it so it didn’t sound like he was being a leech.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter sounded sleepy, but his voice was a little higher, too, hitched like he was trying to contain himself.

“Not a come-on” Tony hurried to reiterate, hands stilling but not leaving Peter’s body. “Massages are done with you laying down, right? So you’re all relaxed and...Easier to mash up like a potato, I suppose. I can do a little magic like this, but if you want the full effect...”

He was aware of how it all sounded, and he was about to take it all back when Peter shifted, and then nodded.

“Okay. Yeah. Um. Are you sure? I mean, its your bed” Peter uttered, Tony stepping back just in time for him to swing a leg around, standing and then sitting again, so he was facing his mentor. Tony snorted lightly, and eyed him.

“You say that like I’m a wolf and its my den”.

“Well. No. But its kinda...Private, isn’t it? Like, its your space”. And. Well, Tony could understand that. He was, in fact, rather comfortable with having his bedroom as his personal space. Especially with the majority of the Avengers living at the Tower now.

It was his space, yes. Even the rare hook ups he’d managed over the years, he took them to one of the spare rooms. But he wasn’t about to tell Peter that, and he certainly wasn’t going to analyse why he was so comfortable with the idea of Peter not only seeing it, but laying in his bed.

“Its not like you’re gonna be rolling around naked in it, kid”.

And.

This is why he didn’t talk to people. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, but a shuffle brought his gaze up and he blinked when he found Peter standing, smiling at him almost meekly.

“Okay, Mr. Stark. It’ll be nice to be able to move around properly again”.

Tony opened his mouth, closed it, and turned on his heel. He’d offered; he couldn’t back out of it now. It felt hideously odd to lead the way to his room, his skin prickling and his mind like a box of angry wasps. He was hyper-aware of Peter’s footfalls behind him, light and steady.

The stairs. The penthouse main suite. Up the short steps and along the balcony. And...Right outside his bedroom door. The actual penthouse was nothing new to Peter - The two of them had spent enough time in here, as had the other Avengers, though it was by far not as heavily populated as the ‘main floor’ of the Tower, now dubbed a communal space.

And yet.

Tony pushed open his bedroom door before he could think too deeply about all of this, and swung an arm out with bravado. “Ta-Da! Here it is. My humble abode. Or...The very top part, at least”.

Tony’s bedroom was...Indulgent. His bed was a super king, and then just a little bigger. Black sheets that adorned a mix of silk of teddy fleece, and snowy-fox style fake fur throws. Ample pillows. The decor was minimalistic but a blend of regal and cool, sleek modern. Steel greys and deep blacks. One entire wall gave a one-way view of the cityscape and could be projected into anything he desired.

Besides him, Peter audibly breathed out.

“I know. Pretty lame, right?” Tony could do with more than 6 blankets. And he could definitely do something more creative with the decor. Besides him, Peter looked affronted.

“My bed came from a garage sale”.

“Ah” Tony considered, then gestured. “Go ahead”.

Like a puppy being told it could get on the couch, Peter went bounding towards it, flopping down near the centre with a delighted sound. Tony’s heart did something that defied gravity, and he let Peter squirm about for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Alright, alright. Roll over”. And he was really gonna have to stop with the puppy analogies before he couldn’t walk down the same street as a dog anymore. But Peter co,plied instantly, rolling onto his stomach with a whine of satisfaction, nosing into Tony’s sheets and...And he took the opportunity to adjust himself briefly, cursing the fact his cock had pricked up in mild interest.

“Alright. I’m gonna avoid any ‘deep tissue’ kinda territory, because you’ve never had a massage before”. And Tony knew from personal experience that ‘flying before you could walk’ was not always the best approach. Peter was looking at him again, blinking doefully and entirely too trusting, and Tony gave a light cough before he set a knee down next to Peter’s hip.

He decided on safe territory, and went back to the boys shoulderblades and upper spine, kneading intently and applying more pressure than he had before, know he knew the boy was safely and comfortably relaxed. Beneath him Peter was pliant and soft, eyes closed, arms crossed as a pillow and doing something utterly unforgivable to Tony’s heart.

He let his hands naturally gravitate towards the centre of Peter’s back, pressing at the easy slope of his spine. Beneath him, Peter’s hips hitched, and Tony fought back a smile. Involuntary movements could be hilarious. He pressed the heels of his palms down, thumbs sliding along the gentle ridges of the bone, and Peter heaved out a breath, hips pressing down into the plush bedding.

It was relatively quiet, Tony focusing on his work and Peter reaping the benefits of it with cute little noises. It wasn’t until Peter moaned that Tony realised his hips were inching quite...Rhythmically.

Doing his best not to alter his hand movements, Tony let his gaze zero in on the boy’s hips, watching as they rolled languidly and minutely against his bed. Something feral opened its eyes within him, licking its great, gaping maw. Tony sucked in a sharp breath and let his weight drop a little more, pressing Peter’s hips against the bed.

“O-Oh” Peter stuttered, and Tony couldn’t help a sly grin.

“Good?”

“Mm” Peter breathed, lips parted. Tony watched, rapt and hungry, gravitating to the space between Peter’s hips. He did his best not to make it obvious, the way he manipulated how Peter rutted against his mattress, but before long the boy was shaking and a steady stream of moans were dripping from his tongue.

Peter seemed to catch himself at one point, stiffening, cheeks flushing, but Tony shushed him cheerfully. “Hey, its okay. At least you’re not screaming in agony” he teased, and Peter giggled, relaxing again.

“I’m sorry. Its just...Its good? I mean, it hurts a little sometimes. But it feels really nice”.

He wanted, so badly in that moment, to make Peter feel even better. To drive his hips down against the bedding until he came. It was possessive and greedy, and he tried to fight it even as Peter’s sweet, high little moans filled his ears.

“Its okay” he repeated, quieter. “How does...Do you feel any better?” He asked, keeping his voice light. Below him, Peter nodded, paused, and squirmed.

“I do, yeah. Tonnes, but...I mean, I’m still a little stiff? In the middle. Maybe...Maybe the muscle is too tight? Or its not the right angle?”

Something twisted within him, warping and bending until it snapped, and he was parting his lips before he could even muster the self-control to murder the thought. “I could...Its not common. For obvious reasons. And feel no obligation to agree, but I could change the angle? Just means kinda...Sitting. On your legs. A little”.

And...Fuck. He wanted to claw the words back in, especially when Peter’s breathing hitched and he whimpered, but...Fuck. Was the kid nodding? The kid was nodding.

“Okay. Yeah. Just...For the...Benefits” Peter near whispered. Tony stared at the back of his head for a little while longer, tracing the spirals of his curls before he sucked in a breath. Right.

“Right” he affirmed, and after a moment, he brought his other leg up, so, so carefully over the other side of Peter. He aimed it close to his knee, so that when he truly shuffled across he wasn’t quite reverse-straddling the teenager. The angle actually was better, because he could pay closer attention to the alignment of his back and the muscle layout.

And now that he had better access, he began to knead at the boy in earnest, drawing soft little ‘uh’s on each press that went straight, unfortunately, to his dick.He couldn’t help the thought that this was quite possibly what the kid sounded like, stroking himself to orgasm in secret, late at night in his room.

“O-Oh. That’s...Yeah, Mr. Stark” the boy half-moaned, shaky and almost surprised, like he hadn’t ever expected it to feel this good.

Tony’s own hips nudged forwards, irregardless of his own permission, until he was all but three inches away from grinding against the teen like a...Well. Like a teen. Tony remembered all those youthful days of rutting against his partners like a dog in heat, the teasing friction that layers of clothing offered.

“Can you...Could you go lower? Like, the bottom of my spine? It feels...tight” Peter sounded hesitant, but more in the way that he typically was when asking anything of Tony. It was still fresh on Tony’s mind that it had taken the kid almost a month of being at the Tower to even ask for a drink.

“Yeah, kid. Okay” Tony agreed easily, surprised at how little his voice strained or wavered. He shuffled on his knees to adjust his balance and lowered the placement of his hands, watching Peter’s spine bow under his touch, hips sliding in an arc against his bed.

The short little hitches had Tony tipping forwards without even really registering it, and when a shuffle from Peter had Tony’s hips just barely grazing his ass, they both paused. Tony was about to open his mouth when Peter relaxed again, fingers flexing then twisting in the bedsheets, and he wordlessly continued.

The squirming increased. The moans grew bolder, less held back. Subtle nudges became flat out grinds into Tony’s luxurious sheets, and each torturous movement nudged them together in bare touches.

One particularly heavy press of Tony’s palms had Peter letting out an honest to god whine, hips pushing back against his hips instead of down against the bed, and Tony breathed out heavy, thumbs digging into his muscles. “Good?” He rasped, and Peter whimpered below him, fisting the sheets tightly and grinding back again.

“Peter...”

“I’m sorry. It just...Your hands. The bed” Peter heaved, burying his face into his arms to hide his shame. Tony found himself squeezing Peter’s hips, swallowing thickly as he looked down to see where they were connected, the jut of his hips flush against that plump, round ass he’d been doing his best not to look at for the past fifteen minutes.

“Its okay” he was speaking before he could even think about it, fingers flexing reassuringly in their perfect, fitting hold before he ran his hand down Peter’s spine, pet at his flank. “Happens to the best of us. Just...Don’t ruin my sheets”.

God. What was he saying? This is why Pepper didn’t let him do things. Or meet people anymore. Beneath him Peter’s little body hitched and he turned his head slightly, blinking back at Tony with wide, vulnerable eyes.

“Wha-?”

“Just relax” Tony cut him off, hands drifting to resume his work on that tight little knot at the base of his spine. It looked like Peter was going to protest, but then he lolled his head back into the duvet, nuzzling it with a low groan.

“M-Mr. Stark” the boy dragged out, trembling just ever so slightly under his hold as Tony drove his hips down against the bedding, and pulled them back up against his hips, where his own cock had begun to swell into a thick rise.

“You’re...Hard” Peter squeaked, and Tony ground his teeth, thumbing at a stiff slope of muscle.

“Yeah” he agreed quietly, and was surprised when Peter’s hips drove back against him. His breath stuttered in his lungs and he folded over slightly, gripping at Peter’s hips as a spark of pleasure jumped through his pelvis.

He fucked forwards against it without thinking, pressing down on Peter’s bowed spine, drawing a moan from both of them. “How close are you?” He ground out, rolling his hips languidly to ride the slope of Peter’s firm ass. Beneath him the boy whimpered and rolled his hips in response.

“Close”.

“That the skill of my hands, or the durability of my bedding?” Tony couldn’t help teasing, and Peter shuddered beneath him, head shaking slightly as he refused to answer. Tony couldn’t even feel affronted - He knew the pleasure of good bedding and sturdy mattress.

They began to move together in earnest, rutting with single-minded intent like Tony was eighteen and driven by his cock all over again (he might not be eighteen now, but the latter still largely applies). Tony braced himself, thighs tensed and body arched over Peter’s, riding his ass like it was all he was born to do even as he kept working on Peter’s spine, digging into the meat and bone until one of Peter’s arms bent backwards, searching.

Their fingers interlocked and Tony moved his arm forwards, bringing Peter’s hand back to a more comfortable position as the signs the boy was getting closer to completion became more apparent. Tony’s own pleasure was coiling through his body, taut like a spring about to release. He felt flushed, heady, cock hot and desperate.

“Mr. Stark!” It was pitched, a half-yelp, and then Peter’s body was jerking beneath him, arching and locking up, torn between fucking forwards and pressing back against Tony’s cock as the boy shuddered through his orgasm, coaxed through it by Tony’s hand on the centre of his back, pressing him down into the mattress.

Peter cums with the most breathtaking sound. A moan warped into a cry, shaking and rich with pleasure and emotion. Has the bite heightened everything? Peter’s senses are always so sharp, so raw. How did an orgasm feel, when even the sound of your own breathing could overwhelm you?

When the kid finally, finally slumps down beneath him, still pinned - allowing himself to be pinned - Tony can’t bring himself to chase his own, heat and guilt fighting an equal war in his gut.

“How do you feel?” He bit out, forcing himself to let up some of the weight. Peter had only consented to Tony making him feel good. And even then...Had it really been consent? He kind of felt like the guilt was winning out of the heat.

“I feel good” Peter breathed, head turned to blink at him lazily, sated. “Really good. I feel...Loose”.

The lecherous smirk is dazzling before he can stop it, palm sliding down the gentle slope of Peter’s spine the settle dead centre on that inviting, round ass, thumb pressing just a fraction into the dip of his cheeks, towards a wet, hot heat Tony knows awaits.

“Want to feel even looser?”

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker fic #starker smut #starker drabble #starker prompt #starker prompt fill #starker request #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fic #ironspider smut #ironspider request #ironspider prompt #sie fics

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babi-correia · 5 years ago

Text

Finding Fire (Part 3)

Words: 1260 Warnings: None Pairing: TBD (But y’all probably already guessed it)

"Maybe it's just freaky coincidence?" You could tell from the tone in his voice that not even he believed that.

"It's not." You pause, opening your door quietly. "The door to my house is wide open."

As soon as you step out of the car, the black sedan speeds off down the street, disappearing after a corner. You hear Casey exiting the car as you jog to your porch, running after you. He grabs your good arm and pulls you back.

"Captain, let me go in." You nearly snarl, seeing your living room turned upside down.

"Let's wait for PD." He says, calling 911 on his phone and explaining the situation. He saw the disgruntled look on your face. "Just to be safe, (Y/N)."

The police arrive shortly after the call, securing the house and collecting statements. Both you and Casey mention the sedan and how it left as soon as you exited the car as if making sure you'd see what had been done. After a quick assessment, you can determine that nothing was stolen but your photo frames had been broken.

You sit on the porch as the police do a more thorough search of your house, and a detective comes out.

"Lieutenant (Y/L/N), you might want to spend the night someplace else. Maybe the person who did this was looking for something and didn't find it yet, and it's best to not risk it." The officer says apologetically. "You can go and collect what you'll need for the night."

You sigh and get up, stalking up the stairs into your room. You don't notice Casey is behind you until you turn around and nearly slam into him.

"Goddammit Captain, it's the third time you've startled me today." You curse out, turning back to your search for a bag to put your things in.

"Need any help?" He asks, gazing around the room. Very simple, with modern decorations, minimalistic. He can tell it's a room you keep very tidy, despite the chaos the break-in brought upon it.

"No, I'm fine." You mutter, opening your closet and selecting some clothes for the next day. You set them on the bed, next to the bag, and go into the bathroom to get your shampoo and body wash, along with your toothbrush and paste. When you get back, you find Casey folding your clothes and putting them in the bag. You huff. "Captain, my arm may be out of service for now but I can still fold and put away my own clothes."

"I'm just standing here, might as well help." He says softly, taking the bottles from your hands and setting them on a separate pocket in the bag. You grab a pair of sneakers and put them in the bag, taking over and closing it before hoisting it over your good shoulder.

You descend the stairs, Casey behind you, and you feel his hand brushing against your back so light and quick that you think it's an accident. Reaching your porch, you stop and take a deep breath.

"Where are you going to stay the night?" Casey asks, leaning against the railing on your porch.

"There's a hotel by the firehouse, I think I'm going to stay there." You mumble, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

"If you're going to call an uber, don't." Casey says, nodding towards his truck. "I'll drive you."

"I appreciate it Captain, but you're not my personal chauffeur."

"It's the least I can do." You raise a brow at him. "Repaying for the coffee and pastry you got me."

You scoff at him, but follow him to his car.

"You got any idea who would have done that?" Casey breaks the silence, and you look at him.

"No, not really. But if I find them before PD does, they'll regret it." You scowl. He chuckles at your threat but stops with the glare you give him.

----------

When your alarm sounds out in the morning, it annoys you to no end. You get up, fighting the urge to throw your phone out the window, and sit on the bed.

05.00 AM. Just enough time for you to shower, eat a quick breakfast at a nearby 24/7 diner, and walk to the firehouse to start your shift at 6. You get your CFD outfit and underwear, marching to the bathroom and turning on the hot water.

Checking your messages and the news very quickly, you take off your pajamas and brush your teeth. By the time you finish, the water is hot enough to your liking, and you hop in. The warm water actually feels nice on your shoulder, and you try stretching it, giving your arm a tentative roll; it doesn't hurt you nearly as much as you are expecting.

You shut off the water after completing your shower rituals and roll yourself in a towel, drying your hair before pulling it into a neat low bun and starting to get dressed.

You look at your phone's clock: 05.34 AM. Still plenty of time to get to the firehouse. You put on your sneakers and grab your duffle bag, shoving the arm brace in it, put your phone in your pocket and grab your keys, exiting the hotel room and locking the door.

The walk to the diner is uneventful, and you're at the door before you notice it. You order a coffee and a chocolate-filled croissant, standing at the counter for a bit before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, where you put on the arm brace. The shoulder is feeling better, but you don't want to push your luck.

When you come back out, your order is already waiting for you. You pay and head out, calmly making your way to the firehouse. When you get there, you feel all eyes on you.

"Staring is rude guys." You call out, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

"Someone from CPD is waiting for you at your office (Y/L/N)." Sylvie says, before going back to her design magazine.

You make your way to your office and see Jay standing at the door, leaning against the frame.

"You're up early, Detective." You mock, and he turns to you. "What's up?"

"Just following up with yesterday's case." You nod, opening the door to your office and stepping in. He follows you and closes the door. "So, like preliminary suggested, nothing was stolen. We checked your car just to make sure, and it's also free from any ill-doing."

"That's good. Just a mess to clean up then, huh?"

"Basically. Do you have any idea at all of who might have done this?"

"Not really. I spent most of the night awake wondering about it, but no one came to mind."

"Alright then. We're gonna stay on the investigation, but right now it sounds like a dead-end. Keep us posted if you notice anything odd, alright?" He gives you a business card and you nod. "Also, change your locks just to be sure."

"Thanks, Jay." You smile at him, opening the door. "I'll walk you out."

Your phone starts buzzing, showing yet another unknown number incoming call, and you decline it.

Casey is out on the floor, inspecting his truck, as you and Jay walk outside. A couple of steps into the driveway, you stop on your tracks. Jay and Casey stare at you, until Casey looks at where your gaze is fixated.

"That's the sedan isn't it (Y/L/N)??" Casey asks, going towards you and Jay.

"It is. I'm sure of it." You mumble, stalking forward.

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duhragonball · 4 years ago

Text

BEGIN: Hellsing Liveblog Ch.1

Okay, so in 2017 I tried to do a minimalist log of my experiences watching/reading JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. At first, I tried to confine myself to posting one zany screencap from each episode, but as I got deeper into the story I couldn’t help but write giant blocks of text about my thoughts. So by the time I got to Part 6 I was essentially doing an honest-to-goodness liveblog. I even went back and re-covered Part 5 in more detail, just because I barely understood it on the first read.

In 2019, I decided to do a full-on liveblog of Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z, since I thought it would be a cool big thing to do. It was a lot of work but I found it immensely satisfying to discuss the whole story in order.

After that, I thought it might be nice to tackle something smaller, and Hellsing seemed like a good pick, because I really loved the Hellsing Ultimate anime when I watched it in 2016, and for a while I craved More Of That. Only there wasn’t more, the Hellsing TV series was a hot mess, and that’s about it. That just left the manga, which I didn’t want to read right after consuming the anime adaptation. So I decided to liveblog Hellsing in 2020 and... I didn’t. I just never felt like getting started. Call it apathy, call it real life getting in the way, call it me being too busy to commit to the project. All I know is it’s 2021 and I’m just now getting started.

I meant to start yesterday for the New Year, but work kicked my ass this week and I needed to decompress more than I realized. But today, I’m like “No more delays, I’m going to break ground on this, because I want to make this happen. So here we are.

I think there’s fan translations of the Hellsing manga out there, but I found them nearly impossible to read, so I purchased the digital editions of the official translation published by Dark Horse Comics. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to sell that on their website anymore. The only reason I still have my copy is because Dark Horse let’s you keep your purchases even after they stop offering them for sale. For example, I’ve got a bunch of Star Wars comics from them, and they’re still on my account, even after Dark Horse lost the Star Wars license to Marvel when DIsney bought Lucasfilm. I... don’t like to think about that too much. Let’s just get rolling here.

The story starts on June 14, 1999. At least, I’m pretty sure it was 1999, but that’s one of the reasons I’m reading this, so I can get my facts straight. There’s a new vicar in the town of Cheddar, up in northern England. The comic makes it seem like he just wandered into town one day. I always figured he was an established member of the community who just happened to become a vampire, but this probably makes more sense. Everyone calls this dude “The Cheddar Priest”, which leads you to take that description at face value. It’s easy to think that he’s a real priest who’s lived in Cheddar for a long time.

But it makes more sense if he’s not. He just dressed up as a vicar so he’d have an easier time preying on the villagers. The local church would accept him, and his clergy robes would give him an automatic authority. On June 21, the first incident happened, where a young man on an errand to the next town over never came back. So the Cheddar Priest played it very carefully to start out. He waited a week to start feeding, and his first victim was someone who was going to be alone for a while. And he took ten more victims over the next ten days. Finally, someone caught sight of the priest with blood trickling from his mouth, and he managed to survive the encounter long enough to tell the cops about it. But when they questioned the priest, he just attacked them, which brings us to July 5.

By this point, the police have sealed off Cheddar with roadblocks, since no one has come out of the village since they first confronted the priest. At some point Sir Hellsing shows up to take over, and everyone’s like “Sir Hellsing is a g-g-g-g-girl!?” It seems kind of odd to me that all these people would be expecting Hellsing but know so little about her, although she did inherit the title from her father, so maybe they were thinking of him when someone told them who was coming.

The really distracting thing about Sir Integra Hellsing in this manga is how... curvy she is. Both anime adaptations focus on making her very thin and angular, probably to emphasize her visual distinction with Seras, but also probably to play up her masculine traits. She wears suits, never dresses, goes by “Sir” and not “Lady”, and immediately takes charge of every situation she’s in. The Team Four Star abridged parody of Hellsing Ultimate has a few bits where other characters mistake her for a man. I don’t thing Ultimate went that far with her design. But I could see someone slipping up on that.

But the manga Integra looks a lot more feminine, maybe because Kouta Hirano was going in the opposite direction. She wears a suit and goes by “Sir”, so he wanted to make her look more babelicious for the sake of contrast. That’s a technical term, by the way. Also, this is literally chapter one, so making her look different from Seras isn’t necessarily an issue yet.

Anyway, Integra explains what most readers probably already knew from the back cover of the book: that there’s a vampire in Cheddar, and the cops have no idea how to deal with this. She has already found visual evidence of “ghouls” in the area, which are humans that have been turned into zombies by a vampire bite. If the human wasn’t a virgin when they were bitten. We’ll get into that later.

The cops think she’s talking crazy, because they think vampires and ghouls are fictional, but Integra explains that supernatural monsters are real, but highly classified. That’s how she got called in to this matter, because her Hellsing Organization, aka the “Royal Order of Protestant Knights”, is responsible for destroying these creatures.

What doesn’t make a lot of sense, though, is how Hellsing can properly respond to these kinds of incidents if no one knows to report them. The tragedy of this chapter is that a lot of innocent people got killed because the police tried to handle it themselves. What they should have done was to contact Hellsing immediately, except no one knew they were dealing with a vampire because no one thought vampires were real. And no one knew Hellsing was the agency to contact, because Hellsing’s mission is a secret.

For that matter, why should any of this be kept a secret at all? If vampires are a real thing, why not tell the public about it? That may sound like a stupid question, but tigers are real, and everyone knows it, no matter how big and dangerous tigers can be. I suppose there’s a fear that if people knew it was possible to become a vampire then they’d try to do it for the immortality, but keeping it a secret didn’t stop the Cheddar Priest. If anything, all this secrecy gave him a three-week head start.

While explaining the plot to the police, Integra also explains how vampires work. By drinking the blood of a virgin of the opposite sex, they can turn that virgin into a new vampire. Any other victims just turn into mindless ghouls, which are “nothing more than the vampire’s servants”. So sending cops into Cheddar only makes the problem worse, because the Priest will just eat them and generate more henchmen. Her solution is to send in a single “special anti-vampire expert” to take care of the whole thing. His name is Alucard, and one of his first lines in this story is about how he wants to suck some blood. So he just sort of strolls into Cheddar while...

Of all the police they sent into Cheddar, only one remains, and the Cheddar Priest and his ghouls chase her into the woods. This is Seras Victoria, as we later find out, and she’s in deep shit right here. All her comrades are ghouls now, and her gun doesn’t work on vampires. I’m guessing the only reason she survived this long was because the priest had to take the time to kill and feed on the others.

Here, we see the Priest is also aware of the vampire rules Integra laid out. He seems to want a devoted army of ghouls, so maybe this was his plan all along. If he just wanted to feed, he probably should have moved on to the next town before everyone got suspicious, but instead he’s making a stand in Cheddar, steadily building his army while the police are powerless to stop him. And maybe this is why Hellsing is a secret. He thinks he’s unstoppable because he doesn’t know what measures are in place to stop him.

With Seras, ol’ C.P. decides that he should rape her before drinking her blood, because he figures there’s a nonzero chance that she might be a virgin, and he specifically doesn’t want to turn her into a vampire like himself. I’m not sure why, but I always figured he was concerned that a vampire Seras would turn against him or at least make things difficult for him.

But then Alucard shows up and introduces himself. The priest orders his ghouls to gun him down, but it turns out that Alucard is a vampire himself (gasp!), and the guns don’t work on him, just like they don’t work on the priest. Then Al whips out his gun, which does work, because it fires bullets laced with silver from a cross that was in a cathedral. Wait, I just got a clue. I always thought it was weird that silver bullets kill vampires in this story, since that’s more of a werewolf thing, but that’s why the silver was from a melted down cross. That way it’s good for vampires and werewolves. There might also be some Blue Kryptonite in there for possible Bizarro infestations, but it’s never outright stated.

So then the Priest gets nervous and takes a hostage. He never dreamed that there was another vampire running around, let alone one working as a vampire hunter, in the service of humans. He assumes that Al will let him go in order to save the girl, but instead he asks her if she’s a virgin, and the priest realizes there’s only one reason he’d even bring that up: Alucard isn’t here to save anyone, he’s just here to kill the Cheddar Priest.

For some reason, despite saying the bullets would kill vampires, Alucard runs his arm through the Priest after he makes the shot. Maybe that was just for flourish. The real reason he used the gun, of course, was that he knew Seras would die in any event, but at least this way he stopped the Priest before he could decapitate her or something. Seras’ wound is fatal, but at least there’s time for him to offer an apology and give her a chance to consider his (implied) offer.

When Alucard returns from the village, he’s got Seras wrapped up in a blanket, and it turns out she’s a vampire now too. And this is kind of the most important moment in this whole story, because Seras is the best character, there are no elections, and this her origin story.

I think a lot about Seras’ fateful decision here. It’s often framed as a choice. Whenever she gets frustrated with her situation, Alucard reminds her that she could have just refused him, but what kind of choice is that? She could either “live” as a vampire or bleed out in the middle of nowhere. Seras is a survivor. She kept fighting the priest until the bitter end, and when there were no other moves to make, she accepted the one path that would allow her to continue.

Also, I think a lot of their relationship is based on Seras seeing what Alucard is and wanting that for herself. He marched right into Cheddar like a badass, ready to beat all the bad guys, but that’s the same thing she did earlier. The only difference is that his gun actually worked and he had the power to use it. I don’t think Seras wanted to become a vampire, but becoming a vampire hunter? One as strong as Alucard? Yeah, she would want that. Especially after the utter despair and humiliation she just experienced. But we’ll have plenty more to say about Seras, don’t you worry.

I was planning to cover three chapters in one post, but this one is pretty important, and I kind of went overboard, so I’ll save Chapters 2 and 3 for later. Doncha dare miss it!

#2021 hellsingliveblog #hellsing #alucard #integra hellsing #seras victoria #cheddar priest #i wish they had given him a name #'cheddar priest' makes me think of cheese #like you go to communion and instead of wafers they hand out cheezits

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sunsetinmyvein · 5 years ago

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I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter Three - I Tell You Lies, But It’s Only Sometimes

It was 1am when she heard her phone buzzing relentlessly against the wood of her bedside table. She grabbed it, recognising the number that she really had to save as an actual contact. Eventually. One day. Maybe. But why was Matty calling at 1am? He was meant to be on a plane.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.” She mumbled as she answered the call, still half asleep.

“My flight got cancelled.” He replied instantly; opting to ignore her fantastic joke.

“That’s shitty.” She said with a yawn. “When’s your next one?”

“They just asked me to come back tomorrow to find out if there’s another.” He explained. She hummed thoughtfully in response, only really sort of processing what he was saying. There was a pause on the line for a moment as Matty waited for her to put two and two together. “So… I don’t have a hotel to stay in.” He added.

“Better go book another one then.” She replied.

“But it’s midnight.” He whined. “And so last minute.” He continued.

Her brain was starting to catch up to what he was getting at now, and she sensed he would continue listing reasons it would be better for him to stay at her house rather than at a hotel all night if she let him. “No, Matty.” She said, properly awake now.

“Please?” She could practically see the pout on his face through the phone.

“Why can’t you just book another hotel?” She questioned, rubbing her eyes to get the uncomfortable feeling of being awake far too early out of them.

“You’re the one who said your place is close to the airport.” He reminded her. She had said that. Why did she tell him that? That was a bad decision.

She groaned loudly and he could already tell that she had given in. “Fine. FINE.” She caved. His quiet ‘yessss’ echoed down the line. “You’re sleeping on the couch.” She added, just in case he was getting the wrong idea.

“Aw.” He laughed.

“I’ll text you the address and let you in when you get here.” She said, throwing the covers off and shoving some slippers on her feet.

“Wait, what? No, no, you can go back to bed. Just leave the door unlocked and I’ll let myself in.” He said, figuring it made no sense for the both of them to be losing sleep. Not over something like this, anyway.

“Firstly, no. That’s super unsafe. Secondly, no. I will wait for you to get here.” She was already out of bed at this point and starting to get a few blankets together to throw over the couch for him.

“You do a lot of waiting for me.” He quipped, the background noise of the airport filling the few seconds of silence as he let his comment hang there for a moment. She could just picture the smug look on his face as he said that.

“Shut up or I’ll take back my generous offer.” She shot back.

“Thanks! See you soon!” He said quickly, and with a click, the line was dead.

She draped the blankets and a pillow over the couch before taking a seat and waiting for him to get here. At this hour, the airport would only be ten minutes away, so she just kept herself busy on her phone until she heard the knock at the door. When she answered it, he looked all too happy about the news that his flight had been cancelled. Almost as soon as the door was halfway open, a massive grin was plastered on his face and he instantly dropped his suitcase to wrap her up in a hug. She let him in, leading him through to the lounge room where he was going to be sleeping.

“Couch.” She said, gesturing to the three-seater sofa in the middle of the living room with bedding spread out over it. “Kitchen. Has water and glasses to hold said water.” She waved in the general direction of the kitchen in the next room. “Bathroom is that way.” She pointed down the hall. “Do you need anything else?” She asked, turning to face him.

“I just really wanna look at all your stuff. Your house has such a different vibe to mine.” He said as he found himself drawn to all of the things around her living areas. His style of living was fairly… minimalist. He enjoyed things but didn’t own that many himself. Half of his life was spent on the road, if he had too much, he’d never be able to keep it all. So, most of his belongings were spread between a few different locations and his suitcase. This, in contrast, was extremely cluttered. Neat and organised, confined to only certain corners of the room, but cluttered nonetheless. He could tell with how things had been displayed that a great deal of care had gone into setting it all up and these items were clearly well loved. She sat down with a huff in the arm chair next to the couch he was meant to be asleep in by now, watching as he gently examined things around the room. He asked a few questions every now and again: where had she gotten this, why did she have such and such, what was the story behind that. At one point he had asked her a question and he had thought that she was trying to work out an answer, but when he had turned around, he realised that the reason for her silence was because she had fallen asleep while he was too busy fawning over inanimate objects.

“Bollocks…” He muttered, trying to work out what to do. He already felt bad for having woken her up and making her wait out here for him to arrive, he didn’t want to wake her up again just to send her to bed. But letting her sleep on the recliner was hardly reasonable either, especially if he was supposed to be sleeping on the couch right next to it. That was just going to be awkward for whoever woke up first. He took a quick glance around the small home, eventually spotting a doorway with a bed on the other side that he suspected to be hers. Deliberating his options for a quick moment, eventually he decided that she’d probably appreciate getting a decent night’s sleep after having to get up and let his sorry ass inside. He opted not to overthink the situation and made an effort to try and switch his brain off for five seconds as he picked her up and carried her back to bed. After he had put her back safely in her bed and pulled the covers over her, he stopped for a moment.

He had dragged someone else into his mess of a life to help him cope with shit that he should be able to deal with by now. Whenever he left the slightly darker part of his life behind, he was under the impression that he was capable of keeping himself in check. That was certainly what everyone seemed to congratulate him for; that he finally sorted it out, he got a hold of his addiction, he got himself through it. It had turned out that without company, his self-control was pretty limited. He hated how dependent that made him feel. When he was on tour and away from his friends and family, he could at least rely on the band. But, with the band already gone he wasn’t as much of himself as he usually was. However, her company felt comforting in a different way. Yesterday had gone exceedingly better than he would’ve expected it to, and he was sure that it was due to that. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, something wasn’t the same as if he would have been at those interviews with the band. But he thought that maybe he could work it out if he had enough time to. Hell, he fucking skipped out on his own flight just to hang around for one more day and see if he could do exactly that. She mumbled something as she rolled over, and he finally snapped out of it and realised he had been standing in this room for far too long now. “Creepy, Matty. Creepy. Leave.” He muttered under his breath to himself as he trudged back out into the lounge room to try and get some sleep.

* * *

“Sleep well?” He asked as she wandered into the lounge room the next morning. He was sat comfortably in the recliner, the blankets that had been tossed across the couch were now folded up neatly on top of it. The TV was playing some random morning news program, and he was mostly paying attention to that, other than the brief glance he threw her way as she entered. Did that man ever sleep? He looked almost exactly the same as he had when he rocked up last night.

“Not bad.” She answered, eyeing him curiously. Everything in the lounge room still seemed to be in place. Neater, even. “I fell asleep in here last night, didn’t I?” She asked eventually.

“Mmhm.” He nodded, not looking away from the TV.

“How did I end up back in bed?” She continued.

“I put you there.” He answered casually.

“I had a feeling that’s what you were gonna say.” She said, making her way into the kitchen to start finding some form of breakfast. “And I was kind of surprised to see that you hadn’t tried to worm your way in next to me. So, I wasn’t sure if that would be the correct answer.” She said with a dry laugh as she put the kettle on the stove top to boil.

“Geez. I’m hurt that you think I’d do that.” He gasped; a hand clutched to his chest. His tone of voice sounded serious but the look on his face was still joking. “You told me to sleep on the couch. I might be a bit of an arse but I’m not a complete psychopath.” He added with a shrug as he came over to lean against the counter top.

She hummed thoughtfully at his answer, “How you act sometimes would have me convinced you don’t know where to draw the line.” That one felt like it cut him a bit deeper than he would’ve liked, but he shrugged it off.

“You have never once told me to stop acting how I do.” He pointed out. She thought about this for a moment and quickly realised that he was right. Maybe she should start doing that… Maybe. “If you did, I would. But I know there’s a line.” The silence hung between them for a moment as she thought about how to respond. She felt like she should potentially apologise for accusing him of something like that after his answer, but he continued speaking before she got the chance. He seemed to be pretty good at that. “Tea?” She gratefully took the way out of the conversation that he was offering her before it got awkward, nodding as she grabbed two mugs.

They both prepared a quick breakfast, eating quietly in front of the background noise of the TV. She only had fairly limited supplies considering that she hadn’t expected to have to cater to a second person this morning. Which meant that they ended up stuck with buttered toast and tea, the breakfast of budget conscious champions. A decent amount of time had passed since she had woken up, and it was starting to move into mid-morning territory. So far, Matty had mentioned nothing about having to get on a plane and go home. “So, what are you going to do about your flight?” She asked him around a mouthful of toast.

“They wanted me to go back to the airport today to speak to the people and get a new one, but I think someone is just going to call me with the new details instead.” He answered, flipping channels to find something more interesting

“You just have to wait and see?” She asked with a frown.

“Yep.” He sighed, popping the ‘p’ as he said it.

“Which, in light of that, what is there to do around here?” He glanced around the room, trying to spot something that could be used to kill the time.

“You’re intending on hanging out here?” She questioned in surprise.

“Well, I might be leaving in half an hour, I might be leaving in eight. I can’t just wander around outside like some lost puppy until they call me and tell me when.” He pointed out as he stood up and made his way over to a bookshelf.

“Why not?” She huffed.

He gasped loudly as he turned to face her, but his shocked expression gradually turned into a smile. “You wound me. You don’t want my company?” The look in his eyes and the smirk on his face suggested that he was already giving her shit for admitting that she enjoyed having him around. She shouldn’t have said anything yesterday in the bar. He was already well aware of her answer by the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“Okay, fine. You can stay until your flight. But I have actual things that I need to be getting done.” She finally agreed.

“But who will entertain me?” He asked with an exaggerated groan.

“Well, you can’t just expect me to drop everything I had planned for today.” She argued as she grabbed her laptop and set herself up on the couch.

“You should’ve been expecting me and freed up your schedule!” He said with a laugh.

“How could I anticipate that your flight would get cancelled and you’d rock up on my doorstep?” She asked without looking up from her screen. He quickly realised his mistake. Him intentionally ditching his flight to spend more time with her was a thought that only occurred in his mind, not hers as well.

He let out a nervous laugh, “True.” He mumbled as he quickly changed topics. “What you doin’?” He asked as he plopped himself down on the couch next to her.

“Answering emails.” She replied.

“About?” He continued, glancing over her shoulder and trying to read what was on her screen.

“Upcoming shows and sending spreadsheets off for yours.” She answered as she dragged and dropped a few excel sheets into an empty email.

“Any bands I’d know?” He glanced at the contact names on the email sidebar. None seemed familiar except the ones that he recognised as being Dirty Hit addresses.

“Doubt it.” She shrugged, “They’re all smaller, local shows.”

He watched her typing away at the keyboard, his interest eventually waning as his eyes wandered around the room. “Got any weed?” He blurted out.

She rolled her eyes at his question, then supposed it was probably only a matter of time before he asked it. “I do.” His face lit up at her words. “But I’m not sharing it.” And out went that light as quickly as it had come into his eyes. He opened his mouth to begin arguing as to why she should indeed split some with him, but she continued. “You need to catch a plane, anyway! You can’t rock up at the airport stoned.”

“Why not? I’ve done worse.” He laughed loudly, thinking on all of the stories he could tell her that would definitely top arriving at a flight stoned.

“I am not letting you rock up to the airport stoned.” She rephrased.

“Just tell me when I’m getting warmer.” He said as he stood up and started moving around the living room, holding his hands out like he was stumbling through the dark about to run into furniture.

“We are not playing hotter and colder for drugs, Matty.” She tried to sound at least sort of chastising, but the laugh that fell from her lips betrayed her amusement at how silly he looked walking around blindly.

“I’ll pay you back for it.” He added.

“That’s not…” She let out a deep sigh as she ran her hands down her face. “That’s not the point.”

“If you’re hiding it on your person, don’t think that’ll stop me.” He turned to face her with a suggestive grin. As she went to discount that theory, his phone started ringing. Thank god for that.

He held the device up to his ear, listening intently and making approving noises as he continued to pretend that he was a drug sniffer dog. While he was distracted, she got up and walked into another room. The random representative from the airline spent a good ten minutes apologising for the inconvenience of having to rebook his flight due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’ before actually getting to the point. He decided it was probably best not to press that matter any further given it would come out sooner or later that the circumstances that caused him to miss his flight were pretty easily foreseen. She walked back into the lounge, seeing that he was still on the phone. “Sweet. Flight number BA637 at midnight? That’ll do.” He nodded to himself. After a few more apologies and pleasantries were exchanged, he finally managed to get off the phone and get back to the important matter at hand. “So… My flight is at midnight. That’s plenty of time to get stoned.” He said as he spun around to face her, only to find that she was already right in front of him, holding something out for him to take. He flashed her a confused expression before holding his hand out. She placed a snuff box and papers into it before taking her seat back on the couch. “Oh, you actually…” He seemed genuinely surprised to be presented with the drug. “Uh, thanks.”

He hadn’t anticipated that she would actually go get it for him. For the most part, he had been joking. Not that it was an unwelcome offer. His stash had run out after the show on Friday, and it was incredibly good for calming his brain down. He took a seat back in the recliner, quickly rolling a joint. Before lighting it up for himself, he supposed he should probably share with the gracious host. He held the joint he had rolled out to her and she shook her head in response without even looking up from her emails. He frowned as he looked down at it, then back up at her. “You’re not gonna have any?” He asked.

“No way.” She said with a short laugh. “I’ve got shit to get done, I can’t be stoned.”

“What! Why didn’t you tell me that before?” He asked loudly.

“You seemed pretty hell bent on getting high.” She shrugged as she looked up on him. He looked like a child who’d just been told that they weren’t actually going to Disney World and were, in fact, going to the dentist instead.

“Not by myself.” He mumbled in disappointment.

“Tough shit.” She chuckled.

He let out a reluctant groan, pausing for a moment before speaking again, “You sure you don’t want any?” He offered one last time.

“Another time, Matty.” She sighed with a small smile.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He nodded as he tucked the joint behind his ear.

He sat and waited patiently, half paying attention to the TV as she finished up the emails that she had to get done. Eventually, once she had finished the tasks that she was meant to get done with her day, she was considerably more willing to entertain the messy haired boy on her couch. They killed the time eating snacks and getting to know each other a bit better. She felt that she had a pretty decent grasp on the conundrum that was Matthew Healy after a few hours of chatting with him. They were both blunt and honest people, so it was easy to cut to the chase and skip around the idle chit chat that filled the majority of their day to day conversations. And he was finding that the more he spoke with her, the further the connection between them went. What had initially been him enjoying having someone around purely because of how well they reacted to him was fast becoming quite a well-rounded friendship. She was also quickly finding that whenever she got him onto a topic that he truly enjoyed discussing, he was an unstoppable force of enthusiasm and ridiculous vocabulary. A conversation with Matty mostly involved just listening to the torrential waves of thought that were Matty.

Eventually during their chat, he discovered a few retro video game consoles that she had hidden under her TV. He was all too keen to prove that he’d have more skill than her at any game she could throw at him, and being the competitive person that she was, she wasn’t about to let him think that he was right. As soon as they got engrossed in the games, the time flew by. It wasn’t long before his phone was buzzing to remind him that he had a plane to catch. Whoever was organising his flights had also organised a taxi for him that was currently waiting outside. He flashed her an apologetic look as he paused the game and started grabbing his things.

“Sorry, I’ll have to kick your arse another time.” He said as he quickly scanned the room to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind. Would leaving his wallet behind be a decent excuse to miss another flight..? Probably not. He shoved it into his pocket.

“You have lost more games than you’ve won, y’know.” She pointed out with an eyebrow raised as she stood up.

“So far.” He shot back as he pointed at her seriously, before cracking a huge grin. His smile was ridiculously infectious.

He started heading towards the door, pausing for a moment before grabbing the handle. “Thank you for letting me hang out here all day. Sorry if I was a bit of a burden.” He said with a sheepish smile, scratching at the curls sitting at the back of his neck.

“You’re not a burden.” She replied with a roll of her eyes. “But it’s no problem. Let me know the next time you’re back in this part of the globe.”

“Can do.” He said with a bright grin. “Bye, Y/N/N.”

“Bye, Matty.” She said, going in for a goodbye hug. He leaned forward in a different way than if he was reciprocating the hug, and for a brief moment the thought passed her mind that he might be about to try and kiss her. But he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling to himself as he did so. The blush that was rapidly spreading across her face gave her away before she could even try to cover it up.

“I’ll see you soon.” He said with a wink as he opened the door and walked down to the waiting taxi, throwing a brief wave over his shoulder in her direction. She realised as she stepped back into her house that the joint that she had given him was now sitting above her ear. She laughed to herself, expecting that she probably would be seeing that boy sooner than she thought knowing his antics.

* * *

When her phone buzzed loudly on her bedside table, pulling her out of her half-asleep state, she supposed that she shouldn’t have been surprised. Would it really have been a night of knowing Matty Healy without him trying to contact her at some ridiculous hour? She rolled over, grabbed her phone and held it to her face, trying to adjust her eyes to read the bright screen in the darkness.

11:36pm My flight got cancelled again :/

No way. Again? That didn’t seem very likely... The airports here were fairly reliable most of the time, the odd cancellation wasn’t unheard of but two in a row seemed pretty ridiculous. What had he said his flight number was? Maybe it said online what was happening with the plane. She quickly googled the flights heading to London that night, finding his flight number straight away. It was still scheduled on time. Why the hell was he trying to get out of his flight home?

11:39pm No, it didn’t

11:40pm It did. They said the engines are broken

She sent through the screenshot of the page that she had just looked up.

11:40pm It says here that your flight is still scheduled for midnight

11:40pm Your website must be outdated

She didn’t have the energy at this hour to work out if he was joking or not. But she was pretty damn sure that the website would’ve been correct.

11:41pm Catch your damn plane, Matty

He smiled to himself as he read the message before tucking his phone into his pocket and handing over his boarding pass. The flight attendant gave him a warm smile as they scanned it and handed it back to him. He hadn’t really expected to be able to get away with it two nights in a row, but he felt it was still worth the shot.

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#matty healy x reader #Matthew Healy x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein

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whumpernickel · 5 years ago

Text

witcher fic number two! also on ao3

still not super confident in my writing, but im a lot happier with this one than with the first.

so here, have some jaskier with the flu and geralt trying not to confront his own emotions.

It had been four hours since Jaskier had last spoken - or at least since he’d said anything more than “shit” for tripping over his own feet - and Geralt was beginning to worry.

Not worry. Geralt didn’t worry, and especially not about Jaskier who was a grown man and whose prolonged, uninterrupted silences were no one’s business but his own. But this was the first nice day after a miserable stretch of cold, dreary, drizzly ones, and Jaskier, hopeless romantic though he was, hadn’t said or sung a word about the frolicking birds or the dancing sunlight or whatever his personification of the hour was.

And Geralt was on edge – that's what he was. Anything out of the ordinary had him like this, because, more often than not, out-of-the-ordinary meant imminent peril. Silence was horribly out of the ordinary for his usually animated, usually singing, usually noisy shadow. The last full sentence he’d heard Jaskier say was, “She’s still mad at you for making us travel in the rain all day yesterday, and, frankly, I don’t blame her,” which Geralt had all but guffawed at him for, for presuming he knew Geralt’s mare better than he did.

So, when Roach headbutted Geralt once again, catching him off-guard and nearly tumbling him headlong into the rain-sodden road, Geralt eyed Jaskier expectantly, bracing for insufferable levels of I-told-you-so smugness and deepening his frown when none was forthcoming. He was surprised to find the tiniest itch of disappointment at this lack of banter, but more prevalent than that was his mounting concern. Something was obviously wrong, and there was a reason that Jaskier wasn’t telling him.

Jaskier flinched as if startled when he caught the sour look directed at him. He scowled to match it, clearly clueless as to why they were scowling at each other, but lending admirable commitment to the act, nonetheless.

"What?" he croaked.

"...You're quiet."

Somehow worse than a smug Jaskier was this halfheartedly-smug one that emerged as he responded:

"You sound disappointed-"

"I'm not."

Geralt cringed inwardly at how quickly the denial came out, but Jaskier barely glanced up at his response. He seemed more than content to take Geralt at his word, for once.

"Wonderful," he said, too cheerful, "then neither of us will mind if it remains that way."

It was an enthusiastic invitation to leave it the fuck alone, but Geralt was nothing if not contrary. He found his attention drawn to Jaskier and his unsettling Jaskier-less-ness even more, now that he knew Jaskier was avoiding it. Every little thing stole his focus: a stumble, there, when Jaskier normally would have been sure-footed on even ground; a shiver, here, when the midday sun ought to have been enough to banish any lingering morning chill.

For the thirtieth time in half-as-many minutes, Geralt's eyes darted back to his quiet travel-companion, and apparently this was just one glance too many.

Jaskier heaved a dramatic sigh and stopped in his tracks. He didn't say anything, but there was a clear and demanding What? in the hands-on-hips posture and dead-eyed annoyance he aimed at Geralt.

Geralt stopped, too. He frowned at Jaskier critically – appraisingly – and watched as Jaskier's attitude from moments before shrunk back within him, the bard’s arms folding over his chest in an attempt to maintain his image of stubborn petulance while also making himself a lesser target. It wasn't working.

Geralt hadn't been entirely oblivious to Jaskier's condition - he could never completely drown out his constant presence, however hard he tried - and so he'd been noticing (and disregarding) little things all throughout the day: the tired bowing of Jaskier's back and shoulders when he thought Geralt wasn’t looking, the uncharacteristic irritability in his normally-playful jabs, the purposeful shallow breathing in an attempt to avoid coughs that occasionally slipped past anyway, the way the pallor to his skin had worsened whenever the trail steepened or whenever their unusually-minimalist conversation had shifted to food, the stagnant scent of cold-sweat and stress underlying Jaskier's usual familiar one whenever he stepped into Geralt's personal space and the slightly elevated heat radiating off of him along with it, the shudders intermittently jolting his shoulders in spite of the warmth of the day, the bruised-looking shadows under his eyes that Geralt was sure hadn’t been so stark just a day ago.

He'd dismissed all of this in favor of basking in rare, blissful silence. But the details had continued compiling in some recess of his mind, building up into a great, nagging, restless-leg kind of feeling that he could no longer ignore.

"Are you ill?" Geralt finally asked.

"Pardon?"

Geralt waited sternly for his answer.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, then hiked his lute higher onto his shoulder and resumed their trek.

"I'm not ill," he said, the harsh crack in his voice on the word "ill" belying his stalwart conviction. "And since when would it matter?"

"It matters when we run into the beast, and I have to waste precious time and concentration saving your useless arse because you're delirious from fever."

It came out a little harsher than Geralt intended – well, no, it came out exactly as harsh as Geralt had intended, but much harsher than he wanted, and he found himself frustrated not for the first time at how often his intentions and desires so poorly aligned. Jaskier kept his attention forward, but Geralt still saw a strange look overtake his companion’s face for a brief moment, equal parts stung and calculating, before falling comfortably back on annoyance.

"Good thing I'm not feverish, then.”

"You're warm," Geralt prodded.

"It's a warm day."

"You're shivering."

"You're scary."

"You're not afraid of me."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

And he did. From the moment the bard’s eyes had lit up with a giddy, “Oh, fun,” after first realizing Geralt was the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, it had been clear that Geralt didn’t scare him in the slightest. It was one of the many things about Jaskier that frustrated and confused him.

Also among these things were his seemingly boundless social energy, his unflappable confidence (no matter what gaudy outfit he wore or what godsawful thing he said), and his insistence on denying that he was sick when he very clearly wasn't well.

"Jaskier."

"Geralt," Jaskier grunted in a mockery of the witcher’s tone – a surprisingly decent one, to be true, but that was mostly owing to his illness-roughened throat.

"We're stopping here."

"Hm, then I guess we're not saving and-or slaying our beast tonight, yeah? You said we couldn't make any extra stops if we wanted to make it there before nightfall."

Geralt stifled a huff of frustration.

It was true. This particular curse reversal required that they find the animal at dusk, so they were pressed for time. Geralt had said so, earlier, when Jaskier was complaining he wanted to rest because he was tired. Geralt hadn't realized, however, that "tired" was apparently the new slang for "ill and grievously stupid,” and he'd been actively trying to ignore Jaskier for... well, for as long as he'd known the bard, really, so it had taken him longer than it should have to start taking the warning signs seriously.

He felt guilty for that, now.

"We can spare ten minutes," Geralt grumbled, leaving little room for objection as he followed Roach to a decent patch of shade off the path.

Jaskier shrugged and trailed behind them. "Well, I usually require a full eight hours’ beauty sleep, but... okay."

He sat himself and his lute down gingerly against a tree, while Geralt browsed Roach's packs for whatever he could scavenge in the way of a human-grade fever-reducer and similar herbs, and Roach snuffled at the ground and ignored the both of them. When Geralt turned back around, Jaskier had shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the tree trunk, brow furrowed and lips pressed together in a taut line. It was a worrisome thing to see the usually-so-expressive human with such an actively restrained look on his face.

Geralt considered this and added another small phial to his handful before walking over. He knelt in front of Jaskier.

"Jask."

Jaskier cracked an eye open. "Yesk?" he responded, then snorted tiredly at his own half-assed attempt at humor.

Geralt didn't laugh. He reached out and pressed the back of his hand to Jaskier's forehead, briefly noting the way Jaskier recoiled, first with surprise and then with a shiver, before becoming wholly preoccupied by the intense heat beneath Jaskier’s skin.

"Your hands are freezing, Geralt!” Jaskier complained. He shuddered and hugged himself, looking three shades more miserable than before. “Gods, I’m starting to wonder if that sylvan had a damned point about your dad being a snowman..."

"You have a fever."

"Hm," was all Jaskier had to say to that. The irony of this was not lost on either of them, nor was the annoyance it elicited from one witcher, who maybe understood a little bit, now, why others found his noncommittal grunts so damned frustrating.

"And a cough."

Jaskier at least had the decency to look guilty for hiding it. The slight edge of accusation to Geralt's voice may have helped, too.

"Pain?" Geralt continued his verbal checklist of Jaskier's symptoms.

"Just a bit of a headache," he half-admitted.

Geralt hummed. He placed a waterskin and a small pouch into Jaskier’s hands.

Jaskier wrinkled his nose when he uncinched the pouch and realized it was food: dried berries and a little leftover bread from their last inn-stay. He started to push it away.

“I’m good, thanks-”

“Eat,” Geralt commanded, “You haven’t eaten. You need to eat something.”

Nausea colored Jaskier’s face a papery grey just at the idea, and the silent plea in his eyes was just pathetic enough that Geralt almost caved and took the bag away from him. But thirst and hunger were an added stress that the bard’s body didn’t need right now.

"Try," Geralt urged more gently.

Jaskier grimaced, but he tore off a piece of bread and placed it in his mouth, chewing slowly and reluctantly.

“Happy?” he spoke around the meager bite.

Geralt smiled encouragingly. This must have been the right response, as Jaskier seemed to yield to the approval, and his next bite was much less hesitant. Geralt made sure he’d drunk some water, as well, before standing to set about gathering what usable wood he could find in the immediate vicinity – not much, but he only needed enough to boil a cup of water.

It was quiet once again as Geralt worked, heating water and steeping herbs, but it was a little more comfortable and a little less foreboding this time around. Perhaps because Jaskier’s silence had a clear explanation, now, no longer the faceless monster lurking in the shadows that it had been before. He didn’t speak up again until Geralt walked back over, cup in hand.

“Oh, did you make me tea?” he quipped. “How domestic.”

“It’s an infusion.”

Jaskier traded Geralt the pouch and waterskin for the cup and stared into its steaming contents. “It looks like tea.”

Geralt gave a snort of impatience to put Roach to shame. “Drink it,” he said, before turning back around to clean up.

Behind him, Jaskier made an exaggerated gagging noise at the bitter herbs. "That is just... vile– Geralt what the devil have you given me? Are you trying to put me out of my misery? I mean, I appreciate the gesture..."

Geralt huffed out a sound that may have been amusement or may have been exasperation – even he wasn't sure.

"It's mostly catnip. Some ribleaf and melissa and a small amount of beggartick,” he answered truthfully, though he knew the plant names meant fuckall to the man.

"It's disgusting, is what it is..."

"Just drink it."

Jaskier all but pouted as he did what he was told, pulling an inordinate look of disgust for just how small of a sip he took.

Geralt sighed and mentally cursed himself for having become so soft as he went rummaging through his bags once again.

“You owe Roach,” he said, dropping a small cube of sugar into Jaskier’s cup.

Jaskier stared dumbly at the ripples in his cup while the words caught up to him. He blinked.

“Hey, I gifted those to her so she’d stop trying to chew my sleeves- I owe nothing,” he argued, but there was a warmth that had crept into his expression at the gesture, and it softened any bite his words might (but most likely wouldn’t) have had. Geralt had to pretend like he didn’t notice it for both of their sakes. Or so he told himself.

There really couldn’t have been much the small amount of sugar did for the bitter drink, but Jaskier seemed to have decided it fixed the problem just fine, and he drank the rest quickly without further complaint. By the time he was finished, Geralt had everything stowed away in Roach's saddlebags. Ten minutes had already turned into twenty, and Geralt was itching to get back on schedule.

He looked between his mare and his bard. Both seemed to have sensed Geralt’s antsiness, Roach scuffing at the dirt impatiently and Jaskier already halfway to his feet.

Part of Geralt told himself that he was only about to let Jaskier ride Roach so the ill man wouldn’t have the chance to slow them down any more than he already had, but another part of him was panicked when he saw Jaskier’s eyes widen and lose focus, and he rushed forward to grab the man as he tilted dangerously forward.

“Jaskier.”

“‘M alright,” Jaskier said, though he was clinging to Geralt’s forearms like he wasn’t so sure. “Jus’… Just stood up too fast. Just need a second...”

It was a strange contrast, the harsh heat that poured off of Jaskier and overwhelmed the space between them compared to the weak, clammy chill of his fingers on Geralt’s arms. Geralt silently willed the herbs to take effect and watched Jaskier’s eyes shift as they began registering his surroundings once again. He waited until his companion was able to support his own weight before moving, but he continued to hold onto Jaskier, anyway, as he steered him over to Roach’s flank.

“Up.”

Jaskier frowned at him, and Geralt sighed.

“Do you doubt my horse, bard?”

“Never! Not Roach. I doubt you, no offense.”

The witcher huffed.

...Maybe just a little taken.

“Get on the horse, Jaskier.”

“Look, you were already wrong about her once today, need I remind,” Jaskier protested, even as he complied and climbed up into the saddle with Geralt’s help. “I just don’t want her mad at me next because of you.”

There it finally was, the I-told-you-so Geralt had expected from earlier. As much of a relief that it was to have that little bit of normalcy back, he still felt no small amount of irritation at being reminded that he’d managed to piss off his mare and also be wrong about it. He opened his mouth, a retort stinging at the tip of his tongue, but then he caught the softly murmured, “Thanks, old gal,” as Jaskier patted Roach’s neck, and Geralt wasn’t quite sure where that irritation fucked off to all of the sudden.

The remainder of their journey was a quiet affair. Neither of them spoke much, and Jaskier was still stifling his coughs, not for Geralt’s sake but for Roach’s, this time, as he spent most of the ride resting against her neck, drifting in and out of sleep.

It gave Geralt little room to ignore the question that had begun to itch at his temples. They were finally nearing civilization again, muddy-ash buildings cropping up gradually over the hill, and Jaskier was stirring awake from another fitful few minutes of rest, so Geralt decided to ask it.

"Why did you deny it?"

Jaskier turned his head to blink at Geralt, hair plastered against one side of his face.

"What?"

"You knew you were sick – Why lie?"

Jaskier sighed. He sat up in a wilted imitation of alertness.

"I dunno Geralt," he deadpanned, clearly knowing. "Supposing I had told you that I might be sick – Would you have let me come along, or would I still be in Dregsdon right now, while you get to have all the fun breaking curses and saving the fine folk of the kingdom and disappearing for weeks-stroke-months-stroke-years at a time?"

Jaskier’s voice sounded worse, now, despite the medicines, and there was a trembling weakness to his posture at the effort of just keeping himself upright. No, Geralt most definitely would not have let him come along.

"Hm."

“Right, that's what I thought."

The bard faced forward with an air of self-satisfaction. Under any other circumstances, it was an expression that would have grated on Geralt’s nerves like metal on stone, but the present context made it one of the most effective guilt-trips he’d ever been dragged along, and Geralt found himself floundering for something - an excuse, an explanation, a deflection.

What he came up with was:

"I would have come back.”

There was about a collective half-ounce of confidence behind these words, and they both knew it.

Jaskier rolled his eyes mightily.

“Oh, would you have?”

Geralt glanced at Jaskier, glanced away, shifted stiffly in his armor, readjusted his grip on Roach’s reins.

"...Most likely," he appended.

Jaskier’s laugh was a short and less-than-amused thing, and it caught on a coughing fit halfway out that made him see spots. He waved Geralt’s hand away when Geralt reached out to steady him, and continued to talk through the tail-end of the fit.

"Look,” he rasped, “not to go and play long-suffering wife to your sea-beguiled sailor, but there really is never knowing when you're going to leave or come back. It’s aggravating."

Geralt could read enough subtext to guess that “aggravating” really meant “disappointing and lonely,” and he couldn’t help but agree. He must have been looking as guilty as he felt, because Jaskier seemed to take pity on him, his expression lightening to something a little more reminiscent of his usual playfulness. Geralt found himself scowling preemptively at the bard’s smirk.

"The children are beginning to ask questions, Geralt."

Geralt glared.

"Think of the childr-"

"Shut up, Jaskier."

Jaskier did, but not without a snicker.

They were lucky enough that there was a hamlet not far from where the possessed waterfowl was alleged to be stalking. Daylight was near-gone by the time they made it there; Geralt would have to move fast, but he reckoned he should be able to get everything settled here and still make it in time to apprehend the beast. The inn he’d found was hardly an inn - really just some person’s home with a sign tacked onto the door declaring it to be one, but Jaskier’s eyes brightened with a glimmer of hope, anyway, when Geralt woke him outside of a building instead of halfway back into the wilderness as he’d been expecting.

“So, do we get Roach put up and head out now, or are we waiting ‘til tomorrow evening?” he asked as he climbed down from the mare in question. His body-language screamed, Dear gods, please say ‘tomorrow.’

Geralt shook his head.

“You’re not coming with me. You’re staying behind to sleep this off.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, but Geralt cut him off before he could get started.

“Keep an eye on Roach while I’m gone.”

It was as close as Geralt was about to get to saying, “I promise I won’t disappear this time,” and it was by no means a guarantee that the same could be said for any future excursions, but Jaskier seemed to get the message.

“Okay,” he agreed, “but she and I are gonna talk about you while you’re gone.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll have lost your voice by the time I get back.”

#the witcher #the witcher fic #jaskier #geralt #whump #hurt/comfort #flu #or something; i mean hellifino i just needed a sick bard #fever #wrudy writes #im committing to the tag ok

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1034

survey by tater-tots What is a fruit that you might eat in the morning? Hahahaha. That’s a pass for me; I can’t imagine regularly eating fruit at any set time of the day.

Do you enjoy any food combinations that others might consider to be weird? I like to eat fish with mayonnaise, which was always normal in our household but I realized was weird when I first saw the horrified expressions on my friends’ faces when they saw me use the combination. I like mayonnaise with a lot of other foods as well, which a lot of people generally find weird.

What is a green vegetable that you enjoy eating? Broccoli and asparagus.

Name something you might find in a salad. In my salad, you’ll always find tuna sashimi in it heh.

What is your favorite type of sandwich? Anything that’s like an Eggs Benedict or Monte Cristo.

Which condiment do you use the most often? Mayo, for sure. Banana ketchup too. I also like sriracha sauce but my dad hasn’t been buying a new bottle of it for a while.

Name a chocolate bar that you enjoy eating. It’s called Whittaker’s - just not sure what country it hails from; maybe Australia? - and I like their peanut butter variant. Google also told me it’s a New Zealander brand.

What is a meat that you do not eat - ever. Dog or cat.

Are you lactose intolerant, or have any other sort of food allergies? I’m mildly lactose intolerant but I ignore it because a lot of my favorite foods use dairy. Other than that, no food allergies.

What was the last food that you burnt your mouth on? Just plain rice, haha. I had been extremely hungry and I just wanted to dig in; but I ended up spitting it back out.

Which brand of soup do you eat? I don’t regularly have soup, much less buy canned brands of it.

What are some flavors of ice cream that your enjoy? Cookies and cream, mint chocolate, coffee, chocolate chip cookie dough, queso real.

What is the best type of cookie, in your opinion? I like keeping things classic when it comes to cookies, and I’ve always been perfectly happy with chocolate chip cookies :)

Would you rather have popcorn, pretzels, or chips as your salty snack? Chips. I dislike the other two as I only like the softer, doughy version of pretzels.

Have you thought about going on a diet & actually went through with it? No.

survey by pinkchocolate

When you woke up today, was there anything on your mind? Kinda. I felt sad and I was aware of it instantly, compared to most days where the sadness will take a while to build.

Who was the last person you interacted with for the first time? Literally speaking, maybe the barista at Starbucks who took my temperature at the entrance before I was let in the store. I interacted with her yesterday.

What colour was the wrapper of the last snack you ate? White. It’s more of a tiny bag than a wrapper, though.

Do you have a favourite mug to drink from? What does it look like? Yeah, I’ve since claimed my mom’s mug for myself. It’s a copper mug with the Starbucks label on it. It looks super minimalist which I appreciate.

What was the last thing you used, that came in a spray can? It was a Lysol spray.

What colour is your favourite bra? Don’t really have one.

Who was the last person you went to for advice about something? I think it was Andi. I’ve been going to them a lot for help, advice, extra sanity, etc. lately. If it hasn’t been for them I probably would’ve left a few months back.

Have you had a deep conversation with anyone lately? Yes. I finally met up with Gab yesterday to discuss a lot things, iron some stuff out, figure out where to go from here.

What was the last compliment you recall receiving from someone? I’m not sure, I haven��t been receiving any.

And the last compliment you gave to someone else? It was most likely a compliment for Andi on how helpful they’ve been to me.

What kind of bread did you eat most recently? Flatbread.

What was the last sound you heard, that you found pleasant? We were watching a mass livestream earlier and I was delighted when they played the closing song.

How many books do you think there are in your house? Take a rough guess. I would guess around 60, the overwhelming bulk of them mine.

Of all the books you own, which do you think has the most pages in it? It would definitely either be Gone with the Wind or Les Miserables, but I’m not sure which one is thicker.

^ And how many pages is that? I checked both of my copies and they’re soooo close – GWTW has 1,440 pages while Les Mis has 1,463.

What was the last film you saw at the cinema? What did you think of it? Knives Out. I went to the mall yesterday and the cinemas were still closed, so it’s not like I’d be able to watch new movies at theatres anyway. Anyway, I’ve been vocal about the movie enough times on my surveys but I didn’t enjoy it. Whodunnits were never my cup of tea, but Gab had wanted to see it and I didn’t want to make her watch the film alone.

In the last book you read, what was the main character's name? Haven’t been reading.

What was the last song you heard, that meant something to you? Lose by Niki.

How many people do you know whose name begins with Z? I can only recall one such person at the moment; it’s one of my mom’s aunts who also doubled as a principal sponsor for my mom and dad’s wedding.

What do you expect to be doing at this time tomorrow? Maybe doing my embroidery (my package finally arrived!!) or surveys or watching Start-Up, because tomorrow will be a holiday :)

survey by luckforlemmy

Did you start listening to more Michael Jackson after his death? I can remember that there was definitely a brief period after his death that I caught up with his discography and listened to MJ nearly everyday; I read up on him and his life as well. 11 year old me figured he must’ve been an interesting figure because of the big reception around his death, so I wanted to know the reasons behind it.

When was the last time that you played hide and seek? I can vividly remember the day when Nina and I played hide and seek when the house was newly-built and still devoid of furniture, back in maybe ‘07 or ‘08. I’m fairly certain that was the last time I played hide and seek.

Who was your first celebrity crush, if you can remember? It was a tie between Ashley Tisdale and Zac Efron, though the older I get the more I’ve been convinced that I ‘crushed’ on Zac only because I was surrounded by girls who went crazy over him in school. I’m pretty sure my first real celebrity crush was Ashley, hahaha.

Do you worry about money? Yeah, especially now. I can’t even enjoy my first paycheck because most of it’s gonna go to Christmas presents, but oh well; at least I can finally buy gifts for my loved ones who’ve always gotten me presents.

Have you ever had to beg for a second chance? Kind of, when I was trying to convince Gab to let our relationship have another shot four years ago. Beg is a strong word for what I actually did, though. It was more of me pitching the idea, not begging.

When was the last time that you sent an actual letter through the mail? I don’t think I even ever did that, not even when I was younger and snail mail was still kind of a thing.

Are you excited to return to school? There’s nothing to return to anymore. Unless I decided to take up a post-grad course in the future, I’m done with school.

Do you hate Internet abbreviations? It can just feel a bit jarring when they’re used excessively in a single sentence, but I honestly don’t mind it for the most part. It’s understandable especially now that most, if not all, of my interactions whether personal or for work happen online.

What was the last insult you gave out? I was never really the roasting type of person, not even towards my friends.

What'd you last look up on YouTube? Hahaha I looked up ‘skynwallz.’ I was looking for the episode of Rhett and Link’s vlogs where they painted the rooms of their offices in the color of their entire person – hair, eyes, and skin. They were joking about starting a new business for it called Skynwallz, so that’s what I looked up.

Are you texting someone really awesome right now? No, I prefer to be alone today.

Do you know when to be serious and when you shouldn't be? Er sure, it’s not that hard.

Do you think that you're funny? I like my sense of humor, yeah, but I know it’s not always going to translate to everybody’s tastes. For example, I’m still figuring out the dynamic in the team I was put in at work, so I can’t make the same jokes that I would normally say with my co-interns with whom I have a more comfortable relationship.

Have you ever sent a secret to Post Secret? I don’t know what this is, so no.

What movie do you really want to see in theatres right now? They aren’t showing anything at the moment. A movie I want to see badly, though, is Ammonite.

Have either of your parents shown affection for you today? My mom made breakfast for us, if it counts. She also gives each of her kids a kiss during the peace-giving portion at mass, so there’s that as well.

What's the last thing that you sang out loud? I watched Start Up before this survey and was humming to the song that was being played at the end of the episode. I couldn’t sing along to it because it was in Korean, but I knew the melody so I hummed.

Is there a word that you always misspell? Rhythm is one of my worst enemies for sure. I also have a love-hate relationship with accommodate.

What was the last thing that you bought that someone else benefited from? I met up with Gabie yesterday and bought her her favorite meal from Yabu to break the ice – menchi katsu with brown rice. I originally got mozzarella sticks for myself but when we got to talking, she mentioned her sisters at one point; I remembered how much I miss them, so I gave up my food and told her to just give my food to her sisters since I hadn’t touched it yet anyway.

Has someone ever made you a really great mix CD? Andi gave me one before she made the flight to New Zealand 10 years ago to permanently live there. I believe I still have it, but I’m just not sure where it currently is.

Have you ever been on Omegle.com? Yes, when I was a teenager and it was new.

Did you talk to someone cool there? Not really; most seem to exit our chat after we did the whole asl thing. I also avoided the webcam option because my anxiety for video calls has always been present.

What song reminds you of your best friend? Any song by The Maine.

Who was the last person to hit on you? Some creep on Facebook.

What's on the paper nearest you? It’s the guide for my embroidery kit. It tells me what stitches to do and the colors of thread to use for the different parts of the template I was provided with.

Do you have a set of lyrics that you really love? From Paramore’s Pool: “As if the first cut wasn’t deep enough, I dove in again ‘cause I’m not into giving up Could’ve gotten the same rush from any lover’s touch, But why get used to something new When no one breaks my heart like you” I scream those lyrics every time they come on. I know I often showed the good, shiny side of my relationship on these surveys; but it was very much toxic at a lot of points and those lyrics - and that song - served as a nest for me, something that told me someone understands how I sometimes felt about my own relationship.

Did you get an A in your last English class? I got a 1.25 instead of a perfect 1.00, but I think that’s still equivalent to an A so yes.

What did you last use scissors for? Cutting thread.

Did you ever secretly hate a friend of yours that thought you liked them? That makes me sound shitty lol, but yeah I’ve acted nicely to people I don’t particularly like.

What do you think of when I say "boat"? That episode of Friends where Joey bought himself a boat at an auction; and Canadian accents.

Would you ever get a tattoo sleeve? Nope. I planned on getting one as a teenager, but I grew out of that phase.

Do you know any really fake people? Yep. I think everyone’s got to be at some point.

What does the last blanket you used look like? It’s pink and has multi-colored polka dots on it.

Do you have appreciation for graffiti? Sure, especially if it’s for political purposes (that I agree with).

Why don't you drive? I do. I just have done it a lot less because I have had little need for driving and traveling to places throughout the pandemic.

Does it annoy you when your printer runs out of ink? I think we have the kind of printer that never runs out of ink, but I’m not exactly sure about the terminologies or how the technology works. I let my sister do the printing hahaha.

Have you ever drank anything from a thermos? Yes, mostly water and coffee.

When was the last time you played in the snow? Never.

Do you know any ignorant people? Sure, mostly Gen X-ers and Boomers.

What is the coolest name you've ever heard? Thylane.

What did you last argue with someone about? Relationship stuff. It wasn’t a full-blown argument, but when Gab and I talked yesterday it was natural for us to disagree on a few points.

Is there anyone that you dislike for no real reason? Hmm, I don’t think so. If I feel that strongly about someone, I usually have a reason otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to them.

Have you had a good day? It was okay; it was nice. I got to do my embroidery hoop art thing, got to watch a couple episodes of Start Up, played with Cooper, and now I’m doing these surveys and am planning to continue my embroidery later. It’s nice to feel productive about non-work things :)

Are you going to have a good night? I hope.

#survey #surveys #multiple surveys – chop em up if you wish

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skyler-bane · 4 years ago

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I. Leaving

Up went the sun. All the trees, sidewalks, and cars’ roofs seemed even brighter, still glistening with yesterday’s rain. Another warm morning in New York has just welcomed the residents. But would it be absolutely normal for everyone? Would an undisturbed daily routine be meant for everyone today?

The walls turned painfully white as the first sunrays peered through the window – now one could also notice how empty they looked; no pictures or photographs, but minimalistic interiors had been pretty common for such a long time it wouldn’t make anyone question the owner’s taste. A large sofa had been waiting for so long to welcome any guests if they ever visited this place, there was a desk, along with some blue rug that looked exceptionally soft. A few shelves with books and CDs on them. Nothing more. No item found on the desk looked strange either and yet, it still didn’t seem to belong to a regular citizen, somehow. If one wanted to know why this room looked rather out of ordinary, the answer could be a couple of weird devices nobody but their owner knew what they were for.

And there he was; having fallen asleep so gracefully, with his cheek pressed against the keyboard, Skyler Bane had proudly managed to get his 4-or-so hours of sleep. Feeling how bad his back hurt, he let out a sigh and tried to make his position a bit more comfortable, slowly getting used to the brightness too. “Well, haven’t you mastered this trick…”, he muttered, blinking fast – still too much sun. But coffee wasn’t going to make itself and magically appear on the desk with a lovely “Drink Me” label… At least Skyler’s last commission wasn’t going to bother him anymore and could be classified as finished, a few days before the deadline. This should bring that… low quality sleep to an end, and hopefully the whites of Skyler’s eyes, along with his transparent and disturbingly grayish tone of skin would stop screaming ‘workaholic’. He finally managed to raise himself from the chair and head straight to the kitchen, where he looked outside the window. New York, how could these all people be so awake, smiling, and full of energy?

Skyler had moved to New York so many years ago, he couldn’t even imagine living in any other city now and every single time he actually tried to envision this move, that imaginary city looked… just like NYC. And 'moved'…? No, not really. He’d been brought to this city by his parents, straight from London where he’d spent his first 6 years of life. Not long enough for any strong bonds or friendships to be missed once they crossed the Manhattan Bridge, yet long enough to say his situation was rather difficult and… unappealing. No child would like to find themselves so far from their parents after all, not even with the loveliest grandparents as their new companions and guardians. New York was where Skyler had come to terms with what his parents had done to him, where his grandparents had managed to show him that the world wasn’t as rotten as it seemed to the little boy. But the reason he’d decided to stay in the city wasn’t as romantic as one would think. He’d simply gotten used to NYC, not bothered by his hopeless attempts at looking for some other place to live in. The message about his parents’ fatal accident and how he could move to their newly bought apartment in London - it all sounded like a joke, but sure Skyler could find some finesse in it. And he was going to move there without batting an eye as if they’d owed him much more than that. Which they certainly had. This one thought kept him going, this one thought reassured him that London was a good idea.

A loud beep coming from his coffee machine announced that his drink was ready. It should wake him up, along with a hot shower, breakfast, and...- Another loud noise came from his front door this time. Someone was at the door and Skyler already hated them for coming this early, even though he was the one who had turned his phone off and made it impossible for others to contact him. He opened the door energetically as if he wanted to convince himself that he didn't need coffee to function properly. All his hatred was gone when he saw who his unexpected guest was.

"Hey, I brought your games! Sorry I didn't come yesterday, they called my mom and told her I failed that stupid test, so she got mad. I told her it wasn't because of the games or anything like that, but she never listens..."

Ah, this boy. The list of people Skyler would miss wasn't long, his number one was Max, his neighbor. He was sixteen and lived with his mother and grandmother. Both of them weren't sure if Skyler could be considered a good company for Max, but his grandmother remembered Christine, Skyler's grandmother, and how wonderful a person she was, so eventually, they decided that as long as Max didn't start skipping school or using swear words, the two could hang out together.

"It's okay, come in. D'you want somethin' to drink?"

"Yeah, some juice maybe? Thanks!"

Max came in and put the games on the table. A little bit too late for Bane to hide his bags and a few large boxes? Definitely. The man mouthed 'fuck' and hid his face behind the palms of his hands, so he could add a soundless, yet angry 'you stupid fuck' too. There was no way he could just disappear without saying a word now and he knew that well, he just had no clue how he was going to do that. Hey, I’m leaving and won’t be coming back. How was your day?

Skyler handed the boy a glass of orange juice and grabbed his coffee too, leaning against the window sill in the kitchen. He took a sip of coffee and furrowed his brows.

"Why did you use 'fail' and 'test' in one sentence, though?"

"The questions were dumb! I couldn't understand them, nobody could," replied Max, sounding very disappointed. "I wasn't even the only one who didn't pass! The whole class, except for Josh of course, but it didn't convince my mom. She always says: 'if Josh gets good grades, then so could you'."

Bane chuckled, ignoring Max's little protest that there was nothing funny about that. "Fuck Josh, he won't get any smarter if he's the only kid who understands dumb questions, yeah?" Max liked this part much more. He grinned at the man, as he drank his orange juice, and promised himself that he would use it next time his mom gets mad at his grades. "Don't worry about it, your grades aren't some kind of a mirror where you can see how smart you are. They're nothin' more than some simplified system and once you've finished school..." Skyler shrugged his shoulders and added; "At a job interview they never ask if you were an A student."

"Exactly! That’s what I tell myself but-"

"But you have to study, comprenez vous? Or your mom's gonna kill me, not you," he said, raising a brow even though he wasn't expecting an answer. And now the hardest part... Skyler inhaled deeply, told himself that he had to tell Max about his decision, then looked at the boy. "I’m leavin’. I'm goin' to London soon, I have to be sure you'll be ok, y'know?", then pointed at the boxes and the bags. “I know you’re probably disappointed and that’s not what you expected from me, but I just have to go. Start anew.”

Max opened his eyes wider, desperately looking for any signs that would let him believe his friend was joking. No, there weren't any, even the tone of his voice sounded completely different, unlike Skyler. He was going to leave him here. No more games, no more movies... No more silly adventures to keep secret from mom and grandma. Max hadn't felt that lonely in a long time; how else could one feel if their best friend told them something like this? "You're not coming back," he said flatly, avoiding Skyler's gaze for a moment.

"Not really. I’ve got my stupid reasons... But I will visit you from time to time."

"Is Aria one of the reasons?"

Some of the coffee he drank went down the wrong way and Skyler started coughing, which probably was the worst possible way of saying 'no'. "I know I said 'stupid reasons' but that's not what I meant," he said in a hoarse voice and cleared his throat once again.

"Ok, ok...- Is she going too, then?"

"I don't care 'bout her and you shouldn't tell her anything in case she comes here. She stays in New York and I'm more than ok with that. Don't-"

"-talk to her, I know..." Max paused, giving himself a moment to ponder on his friend's words. He couldn’t just turn on his heel and leave, forget about their friendship. Skyler had helped him so many times and the last thing Max wanted was sound ungrateful. "If you have to... Come on, I'd be a shitty friend if I stopped talking to you or left without saying goodbye, right?"

"All I can say is that it'd be my style," he replied with a light chuckle. "Actually, that was my plan until you came here."

Max knew he wasn't joking but still managed to laugh at his confession. The fact that he eventually told him mattered most.

"And now I better take a shower and get ready to... take care of... this and that." Max didn't have to know all the details about his terribly badly chosen role model - 'computer programmer'. Yeah, sure.

"Sure," he replied with a small smile. Now he was sure that Skyler wasn't going to leave unexpectedly.

"Max? Y'know what, I think you should take the games. I'll be far too busy to play them," he said, raising a brow. Skyler watched as the boy quickly went back to the table where he'd left the games and smiled to himself. He knew that it was probably the best apology he could come up with.

"Too bad I'll only get better at them." Max placed one hand on the doorknob and turned to Skyler, adding half-jokingly, "And you said you didn't like losing, Bane?", before he closed the door behind him.

Skyler finished his coffee in silence and headed to the bathroom. He really needed some time to think and as the kind of person whose brain worked much better in the shower, he really needed one right now. There were some things he needed to get done before he left New York, things that didn't necessarily sound pleasant, and he didn't have much time either.

#sp:skyler #leaving:part I

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ygboysygbby · 7 years ago

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Married Again

Seungyoon/YOON Scenario

Request: 18 with seungyoon <3

Prompt: The two of you were newly wedded for just 6 months, but then your car crashed and both of you lost your memories

You woke up in an unknown room and you didn’t even remember getting here in the first place. Am I drunk? You thought, but then again, you never really drink. You looked around and shocked to see that you were infused and your right hand were bandaged. Seeing all the things, you realized you were in a hospital room, but you didn’t recall being in an accident, or having some kind of illness. Looking to your side, you saw another bed with another patient. It was a guy and you could see how his left cheek had some scars, although it didn’t look that awful. The guy looked somehow familiar, but you couldn’t bring yourself to recollect on who he was or at least who reminded you of him. You flinched as you felt a sudden pain in your head. You pressed the button to call the nurse. The nurse came in with a doctor and a lady, who you also could not recognize. The lady seemed very thrilled to see you, but her expression fell down as soon as she saw the other patient, who had not got his conscious yet. The doctor asked you a few questions, your name, and your parents’ name, which you replied correctly. You didn’t see as to why would they even ask that, unless you really went through a big accident, but you tried not to think that much as your head was still in pain. As they were checking on you, the other patient suddenly moaned in pain.

“Seungyoon! Oh, thank God!” You heard the lady cried. Oh, so maybe she’s his mother or something... And his name is Seungyoon? You thought, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think more of it because of the pain you felt. They asked him the same questions as you and he also answered them all correctly. You started to wonder that maybe both of you got involved in an accident together, somehow, but you just couldn’t remember it at the moment. “Darling, aren’t you glad that your husband is awake now?” The lady said to you, with tears on her face. I get it lady, you’re happy— Wait... What did she say? “HUSBAND?!” Both you and the guy shouted in unison. ** It turned out that you had actually been married for six months, to this Seungyoon guy, and both of you seemed to lose some of your memories because of the car accident you both went through two weeks prior. Apparently, a huge billboard fell on top of your car, explaining both of your brain injuries. You remembered being close to a guy, and went to a few dates, but it was definitely not this guy. Heck, you didn’t even know who this guy was. Seungyoon actually recognized you, but failed to remember that he was married to you, saying that he simply knew you as a friend of his, while you on the other hand, could not remember him at all because your head trauma was a bit worse than him. You actually suffered more injuries than him, he only got a scar on his cheek and some cuts on his hands, no broken bones, judging by the look. The doctor recommended the two of you to try and live your lives as how it supposed to be. By living together, you would increase the chance of recalling your memories together. As much as you wanted to refuse the idea, you had to accept the fact that you had lost your memories, and that you were married to a man you could not even remember. Your parents were crazy worried, they didn’t want to put you in any uncomfortable condition, but they also wanted you and Seungyoon to gain your memories as soon as possible. After all, Seungyoon recognized you, even though just as a friend, maybe he could tell you how you met and stuff like that. The day of releasing from the hospital finally came, but that also meant starting your life together with your husband. You got a surgical cast for your right hand, because the bone was fractured, but other than that, and your lost memories, of course, you were healthy enough to go home and so was your husband. The word husband still felt weird on your mind, it kind of made you cringe. The ride to your house was a bit awkward at first because you really didn’t talk that much with him back at the hospital. Both of you had to go through many medical tests that you didn’t have time to discuss your situation. But a few minutes later, he started a conversation, telling how you and him met the first time in university, but you didn’t really became friends until you met at a concert, which when both of you already graduated. He said you and him exchanged a view texts, but nothing blossomed out of that. “No offense, but I really didn’t think about hitting on you. I really just wanted to be friends!” He chuckled. “None taken.” You laughed. “I remember liking Panic at the Disco a lot, but apparently I made it to the concert, so that’s a good news, right?” “If you put it that way, I guess it is.” He chuckled again. “But what I said is bullshit anyway because look at me now!” “I wanna laugh, but I’m in the same situation.” You laughed anyway. “Hey, this isn’t so bad, right?” “I hope so.” He sighed, smiling as he pulled up the car in front of your house. “Welcome home, my wife.” He said sarcastically. The house was everything you had always wanted and hoped when you get married one day. It was nothing too fancy, it was simple and minimalistic, but just right for you. “I need to know whose idea was it to build the house like this, because if it was yours, then now I know why I married you.” You said without looking at Seungyoon, as you were still in awe. “So dramatic...” He shook his head but then stopped his traits and shouted. “OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!!!” You went to Seungyoon and saw a huge frame of your pre wedding photo hanged near the living room. The photo showed you and Seungyoon in a garden, looking at each other’s eyes, while smiling. Seungyoon had his hands on your waist, and yours on his neck. You felt weird seeing yourself and a guy you didn’t really know, being all romantic, but at the same time, you could see how happy and in love you were in the picture that it felt surreal. “That’s... actually beautiful.” Seungyoon commented. “Yeah...” You were still speechless. “Well, this is weird...” He said awkwardly. “So, what do you wanna do today?” “I don’t know... What do you wanna do? What’s your job anyway?” “I manage my father’s music company, I’m one of the composers and song writers for the artists... How about you?” “As far as I remember, I work part time and I never really have one consistent job, but my mom told me yesterday that I don’t work anymore because I’m a housewife now apparently...” You shrugged. “Uh, so you wanna eat?” “You cook?” You giggled. “Maybe.” He shrugged then laughed. “Mom said she bought the groceries yesterday so might as well.” “Alright then. I’ll help out!” You both then decided to cook one simple dish and watch the TV. Seungyoon was being quite the gentleman the entire time, helping you out, since you couldn’t really use your right hand. Even offered to feed you, but you refused because you didn’t know if you could handle the embarrassment. The day went on pretty normal, surprisingly, but just until it was time for bed. You noticed how the guest room’s bed was still in its wrapping. Am I that lazy? Come on past me, six months? You sighed. It would feel weird to immediately sleep together right away and you didn’t know if you could ever sleep with him beside you, at least for the time being. You unwrap the plastic cover of the bed and cleaned the dust. When you went to the main bedroom, looking for some bedsheets, Seungyoon got out from the bathroom.

“What’s that for? Mom said she already changed the bedsheets before we got here.” He said, pointing at the bedsheets in your hands. “It’s for the guest room...” “Ah... I completely forgot that...” The guy awkwardly spoke. He couldn’t even finished his sentence. “I mean, I can sleep on the sofa tonight, your hand still hurts so I don’t think you should be doing that...” “I can manage!” You said, half-lying. “No, as your husband I forbid you to do that. You should sleep here tonight.” He widened his eyes when he realized how serious he sounded. “What was that?” He laughed. “Uh, I don’t know?” You giggled. “You’re still sleeping here tonight though, okay?” He eyed you playfully. “I’ll get the guest room ready tomorrow but I think we both need some rest now. I’ll go sleep in the living room...” “But...” “No buts lady.” “I’m not the only one injured here, you have some stitches on your back, remember? You shouldn’t sleep on the sofa, it’d hurt your back.” “Then I’ll go make the bed in the guest room?” “But...” “What now?” He smiled. “I just, I kinda feel like I’m the one who should be doing that, you know? I’m the wife after all...” You bit you lips. He grinned, patting your shoulder. He then took the bedsheets from your hand. “Go to bed, don’t stay up late thinking about me, alright?” He laughed. You rolled your eyes as he laughed before waving you goodbye. ** You woke up early, as you wanted to at least try and cook something decent. Struggling with only one hand, you managed to cook the fried rice anyway. You poured out the milk carefully to the glass and wiped your sweat. You smiled proudly at the sight of your work and went to the guest room. After a few knocks, the guy who still looked sleepy, greeted you. “Whoa! What’s that smell?” His eyes widened. “You cooked something didn’t you...” “What’s wrong with that?” You said half laughing. “You should’ve woke me up! I mean...” You smiled. “Nah, it’s a pretty simple dish! Let’s just eat, okay?” After finishing the food, Seungyoon gave you a full speech of how you shouldn’t do that much of the housework, until it was time for you to move your hand like normal. Then in the afternoon, the guy went to his studio as his work called him. ** Days passed and you didn’t realized you had spent a week with your so-called husband. To be quite frank, you didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad about the experience so far. You thought Seungyoon was a very nice and sweet guy, which was a good thing, but at the same time, it had been a week and none of your memories of him had come back even the slightest bit. The doctor did tell you that you could be getting back your memories as soon as days, but there was also a possibility of not getting it back at all, which just sounded horrible. You went to the hospital for some checkups. You went to the hospital with Seungyoon, as he needed to do some checkups as well. After your checkups and physiotherapy session, they said you were healthy, but still no sign of getting your memories back. Seungyoon encouraged you to stay positive, saying how you would eventually get better and he would always support you, but it was a bit hard for you to believe it. Seeing how gloomy and sad you became after the medical checkups, Seungyoon tried to cheer you up. He tried to say some jokes and played some songs on the way back home, but it didn’t seem to be working. When you were home, you immediately excused yourself, saying you needed some rest. You were actually lying. As soon as you closed the bedroom door behind you, tears fell down from your eyes. You were scared. Sure if worse things came to happen, you could maybe divorce or something, but what about both of your parents? You couldn’t even imagine how disappointed both you and Seungyoon’s parents gonna be. Not to mention how you felt like a burden. You would not be able to move your hand for around five months, meaning you would bother Seungyoon with your disability for the same amount of time, if things didn’t get better. Suddenly, you heard a knocking sound. You got up and wiped your tears quickly, not realizing it was a bit too late to do that. “Can I come in?” “Y-Yeah!” You were horrified when you saw your reflection in the mirror, as your eyes were looking so swollen, but it was already too late. “Hey...” The guy went to sit next to you on the bed. “Hey.” You manage to say through your cracked voice. He looked at you, his face looked sad as well, but he managed to smile. “I think I should tell you...” “About what?” He took a deep breath. “I like you.” You widened your eyes in shock. “You remembered? You got your memories back??? Hold on I gotta call your mom, no— wait, you should call your parents! I—“ “Listen,” He grabbed your shoulders, making you stop. “I still don’t have my memories yet. The past week with you made me see why I married you in the first place.” “Seungyoon...” You were speechless as tears started to flow from your eyes again. “But... what if I never got my memories back? What if I never learn to return your feelings?” “Then I would still support you no matter what. Besides, it’s only been a week, unless you hated my company then...” “No! Why would I...” You sniffed. He smiled and wiped your tears, which startled you. Seeing his smile, you began to smile as well. You suddenly got a warm and fuzzy feeling that made the room feel a little bit hot to you. “How about I make you some tea to calm you down? I’ll be back in a minute.” “S-Seungyoon!” “Hmm?” “Can we... Uh, can you... D-Do you want to sleep here tonight?” Seungyoon widened his eyes for a second before his lips form a huge smile. “If you want to.” “Don’t get any weird ideas, okay? I just need a company...” You looked away, hiding your even redder face. He chuckled. “I’ll go make you some tea first then we’ll decide about that later...” “W-WHAT?” He yelled “Just kidding!” as he laughed and closed the door behind him. You sighed and threw yourself on the bed, burying your face on a pillow. Both of your future and memories were still in such a blur, but something definitely just got cleared. Something.

guys, I’ll still do some editing on this for some grammar errors and stuff, but I’m posting it just so you know I’m not dead yet 😭

i have so much work to do but i couldn’t sleep last night so i finished this :/ i hope it’s not too bland and good enough 😣

#seungyoon #winner #seungyoon scenarios #winner scenarios #mino scenarios #seunghoon scenarios #jinwoo scenarios #taehyun scenarios #seungyoon imagine #winner imagine

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mwcowan · 6 years ago

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Mark & Georgia’s 2018 Road Trip

Day 1: Graeagle to Big Bar, CA, 242 miles

Ready to roll. We packed our camper and truck very well. Minimalist as Mark is and as a minimalist wannabe I am, we did very well. For clothes and shoes, I, Georgia, continue to fail on my minimalist efforts – I just have to have 7 extra shirts, 3 extra shorts, and pants, and undies, and socks, etc,. Our packed supplies will keep us clean, warm, healthily nourished and hydrated (on both sides of the spectrum of health?) for at least 2 weeks. Packed all organized by activity, coffee and breakfast, anytime cooking, anytime dining, anytime bath, anytime grilling.

On the road! Big Bar wasn’t a real destination but a layover between home and the coastal redwoods parks – that’ll be tomorrow’s update. When we reserved the site at the Del Loma RV Park the gentleman on the phone warned us that if we needed gas or groceries get should them in Weaverville as there’s nothing in Big Bar. Good advice, he was absolutely correct. The drive here was uneventful, Mark kind of likes going slow (max speed with a trailer is 55 MPH but the roads we traveled were generally slower). Road construction slowed us down some, seems like everyone wants to finish their road project before winter sets in. Just west of Redding we entered the Carr fire area. Unbelievable devastation, you could see what used to be homes, what used to be autos, the town of Shasta was pretty much gone. To give you an idea of the size of the fire we drove through over 20 miles of burned forest before we reached the other side of the fire area. Very sad. Reached our RV park about 4 pm, not a bad place but kinda creepy (think Deliverance, banjo music, and all that…). Lots of people seem to live here at least semi-permanently, sort of a community with neighbors visiting each other and such. Funny thing is that everyone seems to retreat into their big RV’s around dinner time, to cook, eat, and watch TV (they all have satellite dishes). We’re trying to maintain some pretense of camping so we’re eating outdoors and enjoying our campfire and a glass of wine or two. Looking forward to day 2!

Day 2: Big Bar to Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park, 146 miles

On the road promptly by 10:00 a.m., as planned. Today was an example of how you can drive 146 miles in over 6 hours, an average of about 24 MPH. We��d gone less than a mile from last night’s camp when we pulled over to soak in the view of the Trinity river canyon. We wound around with the river for about 60 miles, stopping frequently to take in the vistas, walk to the edge and peer over into the steep canyon, feeling vertigo. Thinking that there’d be many places we’d like to come back and fish. At the RV park this morning we saw (and followed, and asked questions of) a number of men coming back from the river with salmon. They were all complaining of the lack of fish and the small size, but the fish were all much bigger than the trout we catch, bigger than our biggest trout!

After arriving at the coast we drove north through Redwood National Park, Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park, Del Norte Coast Redwoods State Park, and finally to our campsite in Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park. What magnificent trees! You can hardly appreciate their size, definitely too big to take a picture of them. Our campsite in Jedediah Smith CG is on the Smith River, among old-growth redwoods.

We tried fishing on the river, and saw fish – salmon? – jumping but we just aren’t equipped with the waders and other gear you’d need to go after them.

Anyway and back to the trees, to give you an idea of their size one in our campsite took me 23 paces to walk around. At around 2 ½ feet/pace, that’s over 55 feet in circumference! How old is that tree, how much history has it lived through? We, and the span of our lives are so tiny…

Driving through miles and miles of a forest of California redwoods is awesome and unique, knowing you will not see this anywhere else in the world. Ending the day at Jedediah Smith CG, to be camping and sleeping inside this canopy of majestic and towering redwoods, alongside a breathtaking river that “runs through it” is as amazing as it can be. All this, with the clean toilets and coin showers of JSCG, very nice, a “must see”!

Coming into Crescent city in the afternoon we wanted to find some fresh salmon and asked some locals in a gas station if they knew a good fish market – they “didn’t think there was anything like that around here….”, with the wharf right across the street from them. Georgia used Yelp to find a market out on the wharf, and we bought a nice piece of fresh King salmon for dinner. Yummy!

Day 3: Redwoods to Prospect, Oregon, 135 miles

Today’s drive was an easy “positioning” run to get us outside the south end of Crater Lake National Park, which we’ll visit tomorrow, ending the day in another camp just on the north side of the park. Leaving our campground we said goodbye to the California coastal area, and now followed the Smith River upstream in a northeasterly direction. We had fewer miles today and didn’t set another slowness record, but pretty close – we barely got out of our campground when we pulled over for a great view of the Smith River.

Into Oregon pretty quickly after that, still following the river for the next 50-60 miles. Once we turned onto Hwy 62 towards Crater Lake, we picked up the Rogue River which we’re still following and will continue to do so until we make the final turnoff into the park. After crossing one of the many bridges with a pretty view we pulled over and walked back to a nice park where people were fishing for steelhead – and quickly found wild blackberries which we snacked on until we couldn’t eat any more!

Late update: we’d heard a woman in a campsite across from us saying that it was going to rain tonight, didn’t pay much attention as the skies were blue and calm. While we were cooking dinner a ferocious wind came up and the skies were suddenly gray. I looked at the internet forecast and it said 30% chance of rain – shouldn’t be a problem. Well, we should go to Vegas because the 30% odds hit with a violent thunderstorm and strong rain, had us scrambling to get all the things we didn’t want to get wet back into the truck. Nice and dry, we had our first dinner inside our cozy camper!

Day 4: Prospect, OR to Diamond Lake, OR, 60 miles (+Crater Lake NP, about 35 more miles)

On the road by 9:30 am with most of the packing done and forced the night before by the onslaught of rain. Cozy and warm through the night, we thought in the morning that this little camper beats the h**l out of tent camping! We agreed that a simple breakfast of coffee, a piece of toast and a shared fruit would tide us over for a heavier lunch of a “sandwich”, very non-Asian for Georgia but fitting (or not so tight in the waist) for a day of driving and sitting ahead of us.

Our first stop was to fuel up at a station in Prospect which, not surprisingly, was the only one in town and only had one pump; at least they had diesel. We were told that “self-service” was not allowed in the state and so received personal fill-up service.

We arrived at Crater Lake National Park at about 11:00 a.m., and the entrance to the park was free courtesy of Mark’s senior card (definitely benefitting from this park friendly card as most of our entrance fees were either half off or FREE!). Crater Lake boasts of the bluest, the clearest and the deepest lake in the U.S. Although it was mostly a cloudy day, giving it a somewhat mystical feeling, it did not disappoint with being the bluest and the clearest.

We didn’t test its depth claim as it is, at its peak of 8700’ elevation, also very supposed to be very cold!! We entered the lake from the south end, circled it 360 degrees via its rim, stopping at most of the vista points, then exited the park to the north. This took us over 3 hours to go about 30 miles, a new slowness record for this trip.

We proceeded to our next RV campground stop which is Diamond Lake, just a few miles north of Crater Lake. It’s interesting that RV camping at this time of the year leaves you camping with seniors that have all the time for RV’ing, and camping in these ‘rigs’ that dwarf our little T@B, much like a Bichon amongst an army of St. Bernards, but we are happy with our Bichon. The more St. Bernards, the less traffic in the restrooms and showers. These campgrounds also tend to have grandma and grandpa types running it so the toilets and showers tend to be very clean, some almost sterile, and cozy (a bench, a heater, lots of wall hooks, bright light and a private changing room).

Our campground is very close to a pizza house and we decided to go there for our Day 4 dinner of pizza and hot chicken wings with celery sticks, with our choice of a side dip of blue cheese. When the order arrived, the celery sticks were missing so after Georgia asked about it—they got handed over a minute later with apologies…. two 2-inch sticks delivered by hand… definitely one of the highlights of the day!! Enjoyed all of 2 short pieces of the celery sticks, the double pepperoni pizza was one of the best we’ve had plus the Buoy IPA on tap wasn’t bad!

Day 5: Diamond Lake to Goldendale, WA, 235 miles

A real cruisin’ day, I think I’m (Mark) getting used to this. The first day I was a little nervous driving with the trailer (remember, all of our camping trips before this were within 20 miles of our house), trying to keep it centered between the lines, watching my speed on the curves. Now I’ve realized that the little trailer just happily follows the truck along, just have to drive pretty normally, look back now and then to confirm it’s still there. It, and the truck are starting to look like real road warriors (dirty!) especially after the rains and wet/dirty roads that resulted yesterday morning. Bought some 409 today and will try to shine it up a bit.

Today we drove mostly north, from Crater Lake through the Umpqua National Forest. 60+ miles of pine trees, but unlike Graeagle they’re pretty short and scruffy – to Bend, where we stopped for a sandwich, fuel, and potty break. After Bend, the landscape changes dramatically into rolling hills of ranches and wheat fields, amber waves of grain. Ok, the grain had all been recently harvested, but the stubble was at least amber. And how’d that picture below get into this blog?

Georgia’s family’s viber hotline was busy early morning amidst the sad passing of the youngest boy of close family friends, the Conejeros. We are saddened by this news and reminded how life can be fleetingly short, that family and friends do remember your happy moments, that there is an end and that we should really make the most of each day.

As Georgia reflected and said her prayers today, grateful for this trip and the gift of life, the “Lord’s Prayer” hit home a little differently….”Give us this day our daily bread..” Wait, why “bread” specifically and why not; “Give us this day our daily rice..” Yes, Georgia is beginning to crave rice at Day 5 after daily doses of bread... (Georgia, remember the amber waves of grain thing? – MC)

Camping tonight just across the border in Washington, with the Columbia River as our backyard. That’s one wide river! Must have some huge fish in it…once again our Bichon looks happy at Day 5 flanked by St. Bernards.

Day 6: Goldendale, WA to Coeur d’Alene, ID, 271 miles

Just as we left our camp on the Columbia River we noticed a round stone fortress looking thing up on the top of a hill. I thought it looked like Stonehenge and we definitely needed to go up and take a look. It turned out to be Stonehenge, or at least what the original non-ruin Stonehenge probably looked like. Correct in all the details, even with a chart of the sun and moon risings occurred during significant annual events. A plaque inside explained its existence, it was built from 1918-1929 by one of the town’s founders to honor local men who gave their lives in WWI. The things you find on the road.

We made it to Idaho! Our longest driving day so far, driving through WA in a day, and I think this will be so until one of our last days when we blast across Nevada in one day. After Stonehenge we drove upstream (east) along the river, following the trail of Lewis and Clark for some 60 miles. What a sight this broad river must have been to them!

Our riverside highway dead-ended at US 395, and for the first time on this journey we joined an interstate which was to take us to Coeur d’Alene (we’re trying to stay on state and local highways, except where it’s not really practical). Getting out of the truck for a fuel and lunch break at Kinnewick, the wind almost ripped the door off the truck when I opened it – it was howling! Luckily the heavy truck and the light trailer are very stable, I hadn’t noticed the wind while driving. Re lunch, Perry’s comments about fried chicken stoked another craving in Georgia and we ended up at KFC…

After Kennewick we found that the combination of high winds and freshly worked field results in dust storms. We drove for the next 170 miles, through Spokane and all the way to Coeur d’Alene, in limited visibility from dust, sometimes a bad as a thick fog. About half way I had this flash that the front window in the trailer was cracked open (we do that so damp towels etc. will dry out while we’re driving). I pulled over at a rest stop, and sure enough everything inside was coated with dust. A good shake-out and wipe-down was required once we pulled in to camp. We’re in a great camp at the east end of beautiful Lake Coeur d’Alene, and the forecast was for the wind to abate by 9:00. It’s 9:02 at the moment so the forecasters are wrong as usual. We’ll give them until he morning. Camp Coeur d’Alene (Camp CDA) looks like another “must experience.” If we owned and ran a campground, Camp CDA will be a basis for its design (fishing, playground, kayaking (they provide kayaks and canoes for anytime use - free for all guests, not just for seniors!), choice of tents, cabins and glamping all in one big campground). Each site is designed to have a unique natural view, with community/group cooking and dining areas with big outdoor kitchens, multiple sinks and tables if you choose to use. One nice park perk---free firewood!

Day 7: Coeur d’Alene, ID

Happy to report that the wind and the dust were gone and we woke to a beautiful sunny day. Today was our first off day, to take a break from driving and enjoy the lovely town of Coeur d’Alene. We needed to go to the market to replenish our supplies; I was also planning to look into Tumblr to make this a real blog. We decided to go fishing instead. After breakfast we headed to a local fishing/hunting shop, bought Idaho 1-day licenses, and got filled with advice about where to go. Lake Coeur d’Alene is a noted fishing spot for trout, chinook and mackinaw salmon, pike, and smallmouth bass. But, it’s a large lake and to go after the big fish you pretty much need a boat. Another option was to try a smaller lake, Fernan Lake, which is located just on the edge of town, with public fishing piers.

Pretty good trout fishing we were told. So we packed lunch and spent a pleasant afternoon on the dock, and yes we’re having Idaho trout for dinner. Not a ton of action but enough, 2 nice fat trout (the smaller one will be plenty for our dinner tonight), many nibbles, and a few that got away. Fishing appears to be a very popular sport here. In the 3 hours we were at the dock fishing, we saw a couple of local young folks with their fishing poles and bagged lunch and dressed in office clothes – long sleeved dress shirts, black slacks and black shoes… Made it to the store on the way home, of course we had to get a big Idaho potato to accompany the trout (we did miss the Walla Walla onions in WA!). And some rice. Good eats on the road!

Day 8: Coeur d’Alene, ID, to Garrison, MT, 227 miles

Being that our next stop is “Bernie and Sharon’s Riverfront RV Park”, unusual for an RV park name, we were a little apprehensive. Leaving Lake Coeur d’Alene, we followed the river climbing the Rockies to the Continental Divide and into Montana. Beautiful forest, mostly pine, fir, and spruce, with now-golden aspen and poplars providing a striking highlight against the multiple shades of green. A pleasant drive through Montana, eventually linking up with the Little Blackfoot river and arriving in Garrison, about 20 miles west of Butte, and the home of Bernie and Sharon’s RV Park.

We met a most friendly Sharon, learned that Bernie had passed about 3 years ago, and learned a bit more about the campground’s history and the plan for its future. Also learned that there was some great fishing in the Little Blackfoot river that ran just behind the park. After settling in, we grabbed our poles and walked to the river, which I’d really call a creek rather than a river. Georgia started fishing while I was walking to another spot; I heard a whoop and saw Georgia with her pole bent over… she soon landed a nice 15” brown trout!

I fished for another ½ hour with no luck, and getting cold I was just about to call it a day when I got a bite and hauled in an even fatter 16” brown! Amazing that this little ‘river’ had some big fish in it!

This was our first very cold outdoor experience of this trip. The trout would have partied with Georgia’s crisp frozen fingers if they found these more delectable than worms or Powerbait! For this evening we used our camper heater for the first time to keep warm.

Day 9: Garrison to Columbus, MT, 246 miles

We had gotten some snow overnight, and the higher peaks around us had a dusting of white. The terrain stayed about the same, mountainous, forested, and with the accents of fall color from the aspens, poplars, and the occasional maple. Driving through Butte and then Bozeman we climbed up the snow-covered mountains; luckily the road was clear and dry. Finally descending we drove into central Montana, where the land became rolling hills, with a mix of cattle ranches and farms growing mostly wheat. It stayed much like this all the way to Columbus, where Mark’s nephew Chris has become a land baron, with over 60 acres where he has plans to build a house in the next year or so. Columbus is a small town in Stillwater County, MT, with about 2000 inhabitants. Chris’ property is not exactly in Columbus though, it was another 8 or so miles up gravel, dirt, and sometimes mud roads to his place. Chris had flown up to meet us there – he’s a captain with United Airlines so gets to fly anywhere, anytime – and welcomed us to his beautiful ranch.

Definitely off the grid up here, no electricity other than the solar panels we have for our trailers, no water other than what we bring, but at least there’s a cellular signal so you’re not totally cut off from the world. Lots of stars in the big sky, and no restrictions on the size of the campfire you build!

Dinner under the stars of chicken adobo, grilled chicken, and both Idaho and Montana trout were delicious. We agreed that the Idaho trout were a bit tastier.

Day 10: Columbus, MT

After a hearty breakfast of thick-cut bacon and one of Georgia’s excellent camp omelets with sausage and veggies (yes, we’re eating too much, too well), we headed out for the day. First a tour of Chris’ estate, and then the 30-acre frontage on the Yellowstone river owned by his homeowner’s association, then into Columbus for lunch. Didn’t we just finish breakfast? Never mind, at the 307 Bar and Grill and Casino (Columbus has about 2000 residents but at least 4 casinos…) we split a delicious French dip sandwich that could easily have fed 4 people. Georgia noticed that casinos are everywhere in the state of MT….

After a few errands we headed to the Stillwater river for some fishing. Neither Chris nor Mark had any luck but Georgia caught 1 ⅛ fish. You just can’t give her full credit for the first one, but the second was a decent-sized rainbow.

Back to the ranch for campfire and dinner we were all too full for a real dinner but managed to share a locally-raised steak (simply seasoned and perfectly cooked medium rare by Chris!) and some veggies. Tough life on the road…

Day 11: Columbus, MT, to Island Park, ID, 225 miles

Saying goodbye to Chris and setting off from the wilderness of Montana, we head towards out next destination, Yellowstone National Park. Since Columbus was the easternmost point on our route, we first backtrack about 60 miles to Livingston, MT where we pick up US Hwy 89 and head south, following the Yellowstone River all the way into the park. This is a great drive up through a picturesque river valley, with the fall colors vibrant all along the broad river.

We entered Yellowstone at the north gate and quickly arrived at the Mammoth Hot Springs area. Georgia saw her first elk, as a herd of 25 or so cows and one lucky bull were grazing on the grass in front of the visitor center. Just like the deer at home who are surrounded by abundant food but prefer the green grass on the golf courses (and the shrubs in our yard…). We took a walk around the hot springs area, seeing the huge terraces built by the minerals in the hot water. At places, various bacteria that can thrive in the hot water turn the pools many different colors. One of the largest terraces, Jupiter Spring is no longer active – a sign explains that the thermal features in the park are constantly changing, and this particular spring stopped flowing in 1998. Mark remembers that in his first visits to Yellowstone, around 1970 and ’78, the spring being very impressive. I have to see if I can dig up some old pictures.

We drove slowly through the northwest corner of the park, not too far before we saw buffalo, another first for awestruck Georgia (Georgia has only seen these animals in movies or on slot machines – BUFFALOOOOO!, what a sight to see these awesome creatures up close!). We snuck around, feeling safe in a dense thicket of trees, avoiding stepping on their scattered mudpie shaped poops, to get some up-close pictures of the grazing animals. Driving on, we encountered our first “buffalo jam”, with three buffalo ambling slowly down the middle of the road, backing up traffic in both directions.

They seem to know that they have the right of way, and besides they’re way bigger than you are! Each time they veered from one side to another one or two cars could get by. When we got our chance to pass, a buffalo on Georgia’s side was close enough to the truck that she could have scratched it between the ears, but she declined to do so and just got some close-up photos (and a video to be shared soon). Georgia did personally invite these “bufffaaalloows!” to Las Vegas and to Reno for the “Buffalo Gold” rallies.

As it was getting late in the day we exited Yellowstone to the west, into the tourist-town of West Yellowstone and its overabundance of motels and souvenir shops. We kept going a short way to Island Park, Idaho, the location of our little cabin. Yes, we’re abandoning the trailer for a mid-trip break in a VRBO rental house. Real beds, showers, kitchen, and most important a washer and dryer! Nice cozy place, with a view of Henry’s Lake out the front. A perfect base for exploring Yellowstone.

The cabin provided an extremely comfy bed, clean linen, an immaculately clean toilet and shower, fresh towels, and the ability to wash, dry and fold all our dirty laundry. The smell of freshly dried clothes, the bathroom mirror and the after-shower mist made us realize that we not only smelled smokey and dirty—we also looked it.

In the next 2 days we will be visiting the Yellowstone National Park daily, entering it from its west entrance and then coming home to our cabin. Each time we enter and exit to come home, we transverse through 3 states, Idaho, Montana and Wyoming, all within 10 miles of driving—how is this possible in the US with all this land?

Day 12: Yellowstone NP

A beautiful day with blue skies and puffy white clouds… but a little chilly, it had warmed up to 33° by the time we left the cabin at 10:00. Back into the west entrance to the Madison junction where we turned south towards the Old Faithful area. Our first stop was along the Madison river to take in its beauty.

Moving on we quickly got into another buffalo jam. They do seem to like to use the roads to move around, they must think it’s the express lane compared to the fields.

Just before we got to the first thermal area we encountered a herd of elk in a meadow. The herd, comprised of around 25 of these huge animals was moving slowly along, seemingly led by the largest female. A single bull with an impressive set of antlers brought up the rear, probably making sure nobody else messed with his harem.

We parked and walked into the Upper Geyser Basin, where we viewed a number of colorful hot springs, and were treated to the eruption of nice little Clepsydra geyser.

As compared to the summer when it’s absolutely packed and crazy, it seemed that there were few people in the park, but at our next stop to see the Grand Prismatic Pool (a big, colorful boiling hot tub) the small parking lot was full and 10-12 cars were waiting for a spot. We drove on to Old Faithful instead.

The Old Faithful area is a big complex with a visitor’s center, restaurants, shops, and of course the elegant Old Faithful Lodge, the grand hotel of the park. Everything is centered around the geyser of course, and walking into the visitor’s center there’s a big digital sign telling everyone the only thing they want to know – when the next eruption is expected. We had about an hour to wait so we got a front-row seat and ate the lunch Georgia had packed for us. About 10 minutes before the expected time the geyser started teasing us with little burps of steam and water. The crowd was getting restless; one little boy near us must have asked his dad a hundred times “when’s it going to erupt?” Finally, right at the appointed time the geyser sprang into action and sent a column of water some 100’ high into the sky. Unfortunately, right at that time the breeze shifted and blew all the steam directly at us, so we saw mostly steam and not much geyser. Oh well, that’s Mother Nature for you. At least Georgia got to see Old Faithful, a must for every visitor to Yellowstone.

Day 13: Yellowstone NP

We awoke to a dusting of snow on the ground (snow was expected on and off all day), and drove back into the park. The snow, and the accompanying low temps, gave the park a new, wintry look and feel. Our first stop was to see the Grand Prismatic Pool which we had missed yesterday. Very few cars in the parking lot this time, and after a short hike we saw… mostly steam. Makes sense that the colder the air gets the more steam the hot water (up to 190°F!) generates. When the steam shifted you could get a glimpse of the turquoise water, surrounded by vibrant orange, yellow and brown deposits. The deposits, and even the blue tint of the pool, turn out to be due to different types of bacteria that thrive in the extreme conditions.

We pressed on past Old Faithful and up towards Grant Village. This took us along the shores of Yellowstone Lake, the largest high-altitude lake in the U.S. We had planned to stop at the village and have lunch in one of the restaurants but found it closed for the season, including all the restrooms! Never unprepared (food-wise) Georgia produced some hard-boiled eggs to tide us over until we could find a place for lunch. That turned out to be in Canyon Village, another 20 or so miles up the road. That trip was interrupted by what was to be a short stop to see a bubbling mud pot along the roadway. There was also a longer, steep trail going to a few more mud pots which we weren’t going to do, but then a young woman coming down the trail told us we really should go up as a herd of buffalo was warming up at one of the hot springs. So up we went and sure enough there was a very contented and apparently warm herd.

The trail was a loop, and as we rounded the pool where the buffalo were, there was one eating right next to the boardwalk. Not enough room to safely walk by, we waited and waited for him to move but he seemed quite content to graze just where he was. Finally getting cold we retreated the way we’d come.

Reaching Canyon Village, one of 3 eateries was open, and we found some pretty good chili and a chicken/broccoli/garlic noodle bowl. Nice to have some hot food on a chilly snowy day!

At Canyon Village we’d just passed the drive along the rim of the “Grand Canyon of Yellowstone” so we backtracked a few miles and took the drive, stopping at every overlook and walking every trail. It may seem a stretch to call it the “Grand Canyon” when you consider the real thing in Arizona, but even on this cloudy day the beauty we saw, in the colors, the dramatic geology, and the river below, it truly earned the name, and seeing it was a fitting end to our adventures in Yellowstone.

Day 14: Island Park, ID, to Jackson, WY, 85 miles

A tad sad to be leaving the homey comforts of our beautiful Idaho cabin by the lake, we packed up the trailer to get on the road again after our 3-day layover. Nice and brisk this morning, an inch or so of snow on the trailer and 27 degrees when we pulled out shortly before 10:00. A short cruise today over to Jackson, through the Targhee National Forest, lush green punctuated by stands of golden aspen. We made a rapid descent into Ashton, ID and were immediately into rolling farmlands of wheat, and of course, potatoes (saw several seed potato silos and some vodka distilleries along the way). Following small state highways, we passed through many nice towns, seemingly prosperous as judged by the modern amenities available in these towns of less than 2000 residents. Passing into Wyoming, we joined Hwy 22 over the Teton Pass. One of the scariest mountain drives ever (well, maybe not counting most anything in the Philippines…), a very curvy road with 10% grades both up and down. Very happy to have the power and control of the big truck pulling the little trailer!

The plan was to check into our RV park around noon, then head towards Grand Tetons National Park, which you enter only 4 miles north of Jackson. We took a quick stop at the town square in Jackson, with its famous elk antler arches (there are 4 of these, on each corner of the town square). They are something to see and to be photographed with. Plaques explain that all the antlers were collected in the late 1950’s by slave labor (Boy Scouts).

On to the Tetons. We’ve had this weather system the last couple days, with snow flurries and low clouds. The Tetons are very high mountains. Low clouds + high mountains = low clouds. So unfortunately we didn’t have a view of these impressive peaks, but the mists gave what we saw a mystical appearance. Amidst the sun peeking through the flurries of snow and the clouds, you see glimpses of all of Teton’s grandness and its steep canyons separating the peaks’ ridges. A few times, Mark said: “Trust me, the grandeur of those mountains are really there…just covered today.” A good animal day though, we saw deer and antelope (no, they weren’t playing together), elk, and the big catch – a momma moose with her baby (baboose?).

On the way out of the park we took a drive to a Mormon settlement from the 1890’s, that still has a number of original log homes and barns standing. The cold wind with nothing to block it made you think of the difficult life these pioneers had (notice Georgia’s winter wraps? There are 3 more layers underneath!).

Heading back into town we had to stop at the “Million Dollar Cowboy Bar” where Georgia saddled up for a round! Glad we have a not-so-difficult life!

Day 15: Jackson, WY to Park City, UT, 250 miles

We started off with a nice drive down the gorgeous Snake River canyon, running through the Targhee National Forest, for about 60 miles. Beautiful country, especially this time of year with the fall colors against the evergreen forests, the river below, and the white peaks above. We travelled generally south, going through six states in one day! Wyoming, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, Wyoming, and Utah. Does that count as six? Anyway it was hard to keep track of which state we were in.

Coming out of the forest around Afton, WY (home of the world’s largest elk antler arch!) the terrain transformed into the ‘high plains’ of mostly ranch land, bordered by high, recently snow-covered mountains. There are a lot of cows here, must be a cow for every person in the U.S.

We ended our travels for the day pulling into an RV park just a few miles away from Park City, UT. Taking little time to unhitch and set up the trailer, we drove back to Park City. How it’s changed! Mark was last here in 2006, and it was pretty much Main Street and a few adjacent streets.

Now the malls and condos start miles away, we had to pull over and use Google Maps to find the old Main Street. Thankfully that colorful area hasn’t changed a whole lot, maybe gone a little more high-end, but it’s still a nice walk along many shops, pubs, and restaurants. We took some time over a local brew to research the best place to have buffalo for dinner, that’s on the list for tomorrow, after a visit to Salt Lake City.

Day 16: Local Visits – Salt Lake City and the Great Salt Lake, 167 miles

On a quest to try bison…

Beyond bison, our plans for today were simple; to learn how Salt Lake City came to be (knew we had to have an understanding of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints or the Mormon religion for this), to go to Salt Lake and either float on it and/or taste it’s brininess, and finally, to have a nice dinner in Park City and satisfy our curiosity about the taste of buffalo meat.

Our morning was unhurried (at least Georgia’s was…) and slept in a bit. Although we did use the furnace to keep the trailer cozy during the night, sunshine and blue skies greeted us by 7:30 am for a change. We left our camper at the CG and drove to Salt Lake City’s Temple Square which took us about ½ hour. Not having a detailed plan on how to tackle the Mormon immersion part of the day’s mission, we went into the first open entrance which was along North Street (next to the West St., of course) and went inside the North Entrance Visitor Center. Inside this was at least 3 floors of what we can only describe as America’s Vatican, with a modern twist. The different types of media they made available for the visitors were remarkably well thought out—paintings, sculptures, videos, narrations, private reflection areas, exploration of the Book of Mormon could be availed through areas with headsets, videos of their history, presentation of its founder Joseph Smith, testaments of missionary work, etc. We took 1 ½ hours reading, watching and listening.

We got hungry and ended up at Blue Lemon across the street from the Temple Square’s South Gate. We enjoyed our freshly prepared and well-seasoned veggie wraps and tacos. After lunch we went back into the Temple Square through, and admiring, the square’s middle manicured gardens and had a chance to compliment the 2 young ladies who were on active duty. We then proceeded to their tabernacle which was open, sat down and listened to the colossal pipe organ being played by this young man, the crescendos meant to vibrate the floor, your seat and your coronaries.

We then made our way to the South Entrance visitor center thinking this would be a smaller version of the North’s visitor Center. Naaah—this building showcased how Brigham Young led the “flock” to Salt Lake City and how the site for the Temple of our God came to be, how the temple was erected, the tools, the wagons, etc. Mark noted that one cannot enter the Temple unless you are a Mormon. Well, this building had a 10 foot replica of the outside structure as well as the inside structure, its rooms and furnishings. Next to it you get to see videos of the actual rooms—WOW! The furniture and design of the inside is meant to have the purest (think clean, white, gold), most beautiful adornments, best materials, best workmanship, it is after all built for “our God.”

Mark and I agreed that taking the time to understand the Mormon religion a little, the foundation of their beliefs and their history were worth the time. A must do if in Salt Lake City!

Next was a drive to the Great Salt Lake at Utah’s Antelope Island State Park. The feel of the water – nothing different, the taste of the water – very salty after licking the dried salt crystals on your skin (note from Mark: been there, done that, didn’t feel the need to get crusty – only Georgia’s skin touched the water this time!), the smell in the air – a lot like a lot of dried shrimp, the walk to reach the water - looong! But still a must do if you have the time.

Buffalloooooo! We proceeded back to Park City for our dinner of buffalo, and since they didn’t have buffalo steak, Georgia opted for the only steak option in the menu, sirloin steak, while Mark went for the buffalo burger. The burger didn’t disappoint, had the tenderness of wagyu beef with less fat and the sirloin steak was as tender and flavorful as any steak we’ve ever had. We have to say the beef in Montana, Wyoming and Utah are certainly the best and that buffalo burger meat is indeed better than beef burger meat. After researching on beef quality and flavor, we are convinced that the secret to finding good flavorful beef anywhere in the US is finding the right store, one that specializes and takes pride in the fresh meat they sell.

Day 17: Park City, UT to Baker, NV, 221 miles

This was a Blue Bird morning in the language of skiers, even though the ski season has yet to start. White peaks against that cloudless bluer-than-blue sky. We followed US 189 down through the Heber Valley, then through Utah’s Deer Creek State Park. We’ve seen this throughout this trip: snow-capped peaks with green flanks, orange and golden aspens, rivers and lakes. We’re fortunate to live in a place with similar beauty, but to see it over and over with different mountains and rivers and lakes is something we never tire of.

We descended a long grade into Provo, UT, a modern and clean looking place with that college-town look, being the home of Brigham Young University – lots of trendy places to eat, lots of outdoor recreation, flanked by the impressive Wasatch mountains. After Provo the country changed into rolling farm and ranch lands (more cattle) for some time – thinking of all that fresh beef we started looking for a local butcher, drove past the Ashton Farms Burger Barn and Meat Market in Delta, UT (burger of the month: double cheese burger with a crispy chicken breast!) – a quick U-turn and we bought a great looking rib-eye and some elk andouille brats that may make it home or may not…

Soon after Delta, we began our drive through the Great Basin. We already mentioned that the Great Salt Lake was a remnant of Lake Bonneville, a huge ‘ocean’ that covered much of western America. The Great Basin is the bed of this massive lake which is now mostly flat, arid country

We followed US 6 westward for some 60 miles, the road so straight it went on forever; when you reached forever it kept going straight as far as you could see.

We crossed this first part in 60 minutes before we came to a range of interesting mountains – I had the thought that while interesting to me, what did the immigrants think, after days trudging thought this dry land, about these menacing hills? “Interesting” was probably not in their vocabulary. And then, after a steep climb and descent (with the road we traveled blasted through the rock to make it less steep and curvy) what did they see? Another 60 or so miles of the same flat, dry country ending in an even more imposing mountain range. Wow, the immigrants had hope, faith, and perseverance that we’ll never know. This country has a strange, arresting beauty. In some ways the straight flat road tells you to speed up and get across this as fast as you can; the beauty begs you to slow down and take it all in.

After a short prospecting stop – Georgia read about ‘rockhounds’ and wanted to see what it was all about, although neither of us would recognize a precious stone if it hit us in the head – we arrived in Baker, NV, population 68 (people, many more cows). The owner and hostess of the Whispering Elms Motel and RV Park is also the bartender in the saloon, apparently the hopping place in town. Why are we here? Baker was about a 4-hour drive (our standard day) from Park City and is the nearest town to the Great Basin National Park, on the schedule for tomorrow.

After about 10 days in very cold weather we appreciated the warm temps in Baker, put on our flip-flops and set up an outdoor table and chairs as we prefer to do. Poured a glass of wine, got dinner ready, started a fire, had some music going, all the stuff of a nice evening. After dinner as we were cleaning up, a strong, cold wind came up suddenly. Not strong, but STRONG! Got us hurrying to put everything away and get back into the cozy little trailer. Score one more point for trailer vs. tent (which would have been blown into the next county). For the first time Georgia thought our bichon could be flattened easily by that small tree if it fell on us.

Day 18: Baker NV, Great Basin National Park

Winter followed us from Park City to Baker, after last night’s warm start we woke to 20-degree temps and a strong wind that cut right through whatever you could wear. Our 2-gallon water jug was frozen solid!

Great Basin NP wouldn’t ever have been on my bucket list for National Parks to visit, but as it was about half way between Park City and Reno, it was a natural stop and one more NP to check off my list. Very undeveloped, only one paved road into the park, from Baker to Lehman cave. We took a 1-hour ranger-led tour into the caves, which were spectacular, even after many cave visits to more well-known caves such as Carlsbad and Mammoth, these were among the best and most well-preserved cave formations I’ve seen. And that’s after the early years of private exploitation, where the going rule was “if you can break it, you can take it”. Thankfully the formations must be pretty tough and there are a lot left for us to enjoy today, and more that are still forming for future generations.

Great Basin NP is also about the Great Basin. Geologically, it’s recently the leftover lakebed from Lake Bonneville, which covered most of Nevada and much of Utah, Idaho, and Wyoming, as recently as 12,000 years ago. The Great Salt Lake is the last remnant of this drying lake, but we can see the tale of the ancient lake in its lakebed (now flat and arid valleys) and in the foothills and mountains, once islands in the lake. This has left us with great vistas, wide-open spaces.

We’re most thankful for our leaders who have made efforts to preserve these natural treasures we have, for us to enjoy and for all the generations to come. I’ll probably never make it to every National Park, but I know I’ll enjoy each one that I do see. More to come on the next road trip!

Day 19: Baker NV, to Reno, NV, 383 miles

This was our ‘blast across Nevada’ day, the longest day of driving in this trip. I’d really expected one long, mind-numbing drive across featureless desert. I guess my Nevada geography was off a bit. We started by rounding the northern edge of Great Basin NP, with a great view of 13,065’ Wheeler Peak and the other dramatic peaks in the park.

Up and over the Sacramento Pass and down into the valley below. Across the flat valley and up and over another range, down into another valley, and rinse and repeat... I finally remembered a lesson from a book I read last summer (Hard Road West by Keith Meldahl) which is a history book written by a geologist. It follows the trail of the immigrants to the California gold fields in the 1850’s and ties in how the geology of the land they were traveling over affected their journey, and how the land came to be the way it is. The part that came back to me today was about travel westward through the Great Basin. “Basin” is a hydrogeological term describing how water entering the area doesn’t get out (doesn’t flow to the sea) rather than describing a flat area like the bottom of a wash basin. Anyway, the part that affected the immigrants is that many millions of years ago the basin was indeed flat, and also the west coast was much further west than it is now. The Pacific plate of the earth’s crust moves eastward, sliding underneath the western US plate, pushing California eastward. This compressed the Great Basin causing it to “wrinkle”, forming north-south running ridges – the photo here is looking north into a flat valley between two parallel ranges to the east and west.

The significance of this lesson was lost until today as we repeatedly crossed a 10 or 20 or 40 mile-wide flat valley floor, then an imposing mountain range with a 7500+ foot high pass. Then another, then another, 8 or 9 in all, I lost count, all the way across Nevada, until you come to the baddest wrinkle of all, the Sierra Nevada.

Can you imagine what the immigrants felt when they finally fought their way over a pass, only to look west and see yet another valley and mountain range?

Much of the drive through the Nevada Great Basin was on US 50 – signs appropriately called it “the loneliest road in America”; miles and miles of long stretches of straight one lane roads, repeated after crossing another mountain range. Georgia theorizes that Reno grew to the big city that it is (in comparison to the much smaller and less developed towns we saw along the way) because some immigrants just couldn’t go through another mountain range crossing nor another big lonely valley to trudge through to reach California. It had a little something to do with silver mining noted MC. But, Georgia could not imagine women immigrants traveling this trail… 6 months of wagon camping from the Midwest seems unhealthy with so many environmental challenges to contend with—Reno perhaps was a compromise, as all good relationships require?

Bottom line is that crossing the middle of Nevada was much more interesting than we thought it would be. We’re very thankful we weren’t among those immigrants!

Arrived in Reno a little after 4pm (after 9am start), selling out to the comforts of a shower, clean bed, and a celebratory dinner at the Silver Legacy. That shower felt great (nice when you don’t have to worry about touching the walls or having to balance so your feet don’t touch the floor), and our Sushi dinner was a treat, not just because we haven’t eaten well on the road but it’s something we don’t have at home.

Day 20: Reno, NV to Graeagle, 61 miles

After sleeping in, another shower, and a big breakfast we hitched up the little trailer for the last time on this trip, and made the uneventful 1-hour drive home. The last time we drove home from Reno with the trailer was the day we bought it; I was nervous and checking my rear-view mirror every 2 seconds to make sure it was still there. I feel like a pro now!

A little sad to be ending our adventure, but it’s softened by coming home to beautiful Graeagle. A perfectly blue and warm October day, with the aspens in the front yard a brilliant yellow. Maybe the best way to get over the sadness will be to start planning our next road trip…

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dulma · 6 years ago

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On the circle jerk of the art world

Tom Wolfe, author & journalist, is good at being scathing. Case in point: The Painted Word a brief diatribe against what he perceives to be the falseness and pretension of an elitist art world in a capitalist society.

I don’t know enough about art or the art world to agree or disagree with what Mr. Wolfe claims, but I do care deeply about art and its role in civilization. How it can help us, fix us, express us, or how it can’t.

His ideas, though, strike me as useful departures for my own future research, especially w/r/t Abstract Expressionism, my new obsession. Also—God knows I love a good contrarian, so here are some key points I’ve synthesized from his spirited lambast. For my own reference, mostly. Thanks, Tom.

Art must have its theory, i.e. the dictum du jour. “modern art has become completely literary”

Realistic 19th century painting dubbed “literary” thereby spawning its rebellious successor movements, i.e. l’art pour l’art

Braque: aim of art is not to reconstitute but constitute “a pictorial fact”

Artists left the royal courts & salons and by 1900 aimed to shock and subvert the bourgeois

Now the artists had to be boho & avant garde (sincerely) but also in le monde

“Public? The public plays no part in the process whatsoever. The public is not invited”

(This question is of importance to me. Art as public artifact vs. art as private commodity/investment—note to self: explore the ethics and utility of these roles, and whether they are conflicting or mutually generative)

The art world is a mere 10,000 souls

“a mere hamlet!” restricted to les beaux mondes of eight cities

Modern art enjoyed a huge boom in the States in the 1920s because that’s when the cultured bourgeoisie began to love it

Imported from Europe to the US not in a bohemian rebellious spirit but institutionalized by the Rockefellers via the establishment of the MoMA in late 1920s

Art theory used to be something that enriched conversation 100 years prior but now it was “ an essential hormone in the mating ritual”

(Touché, Tom Wolfe.)

The bourgeois art world needed theory to understand the direction of modern art

Why did theory blow up?

1. the art world is tiny

2. le monde always looks to the bohemian artists for the next thing

3. the artists are made up of “cénacles” where if one dominates art and has one core theory, that theory comes to dominate all of the art world during that period

This is what happened post WWII during Abstract Expressionism & when NY replaced Paris as center of the art world

Greenberg’s theory of flatness and Rosenberg’s Action Painting became big theories picked up by le monde. Peggy Guggenheim then discovered Pollock, beloved of Greenberg, and gave him a place and money and set him off

“First you do everything possible to make sure your world is antibourgeois, that it defies bourgeois tastes, that it mystifies the mob, the public, that it outdistances the insensible middle-class multitudes by light-years of subtlety and intellect — and then, having succeeded admirably, you ask with a sense of see-what-I-mean outrage: “Look, they don’t even buy our products!””

Pop Art was then a reaction against Abstract Exp.

It was even flatter. Jasper Johns chose flat real life objects and made them look super flat. Like the flag.

“Wasn’t there something just the least bit incestuous about this tendency of contemporary art to use previous styles of art as its points of reference?”

(What else would you use? All major art forms are institutionalized in some way—literature, film, etc.—and draw upon its predecessors, are in conversation with lineage and history. I don’t see this as inherently “incestuous” but in practice in the art world perhaps it’s extreme or problematic... explore further)

Pop Art succeeded not because it rejected Abst. Exp’s premises of moving away from realism, but because it did AE one better: even higher level of not realism. Somewhere that was not abstract nor realistic but based on signs

Abstract Expressionists were too grim and antibourgeois, too bohemian. The Pop artists were right at home in the cultured world of the bourgeois

Steinberg: Modern art always “'projects itself into a twilight zone where no values are fixed'” and “'it is always born in anxiety'” and its function is to “'transmit this anxiety to the spectator'” to provoke “'genuine existential predicament'”

“If you hated it — it was probably great."

Pop Art was full of cultural and literary ironic commentary and allusions. Op Art, which came after, was also very literary in that it was heavily grounded in theory. Theory was taking idea of painting as real object and turning it into object of pure perception

Greenberg made a comeback with a new theory/style: against the brushstroke.

All of these movements were a movement towards reduction, stripping away - first of 19th century realism, then representational objects, then the third dimension towards flatness, then brushstrokes.

Is that enough? Hardly.

Minimalists came and stripped away the “sentimental” colors and used gritty or ugly ones

Got rid of the frame, the hanging up of pictures, the square canvas

Rosenberg & Greenberg (though sort of rivals) and others were against this - new style was “‘too much a feat of ideation.. something deduced instead of felt and discovered.’”

Then we got rid of the very idea of wall.

Moved into installations. Then museums (Earth Art).

What about idea of a permanent or even visible work of art? so next came Conceptual Art where they said it wasn’t about permanence and materials but the process

And then they took away idea of visual imagination altogether - piece called Vacant by David R Smith

My thoughts on this (provisional):

Art movements destroy to create. This is also true in literature, in everything. I find this a natural human impulse. We are meaning-making animals, and art is our way of exploring/expressing this process, and meaning is made inevitably by a destructive-creative process. Learning—and thus growth—is by necessity an act that displaces the dictums of yesterday to make room for the new. So I question Wolfe’s implicit resistance to the deconstruction of every assumption inherent to “art,” but I’m willing to challenge the “destroy for destruction’s sake” imperative, insofar as it is what drives the movements of art today. It sure seems that way, but I assume there’s more there, and the “more” is perhaps as varied as the people who further it.

To ask a naive question that probably Real Art has long since abandoned or mocked until it breathed its last, what about beauty???? As a layperson who wants to believe that art has a public role and some inherent value where beholding it can do something good, even by disturbing us, I often find myself lamenting the un-beauty of contemporary art. That this is probably because I don’t “get it” only further entrenches my sense of alienation from this world of art. Is there respite to be sought in, for example, outsider art?

Perhaps the answer is as simple as a simple comparison: take music. There is no possibility of defining “beautiful” music; we like what we like, and different people like different things. There are ways to get into a piece and understand what it’s trying to be and to judge it on that basis (also like a book) but no absolute criteria are possible because of the infinite variety of creative possibility. But even so, music and literature seem to me more accessible, somehow, than art. Less conceptual in the way art can be, more inclusive in terms of the gap between what the gatekeepers would deem worth canonizing and what we would claim to enjoy as outsiders.

To what extent do artists themselves (as if it’s a homogeny) want the “public” to “get” or “like” their art? A lot rides on this question I guess.

The beauty of the disturbing and the disturbing of beauty. Would this summarize where we find ourselves today?

(I suppose you could say beauty is taken out of the equation, but you could also reframe that as the expansion of the territory of the beautiful to encompass all, exclude nothing. Ironically. The murder of beauty and the expansion of it to include everything is the same thing, conceptually speaking.)

What I wish existed and whose absence consumes me to no end every time I enter a museum: a summary (impossible) of the timeline of the canon and what/who gets included and what/who gets excluded and why. Note that I’m not issuing the ignorant layperson’s tired old challenge of “My 5-year-old could do that.” I don’t mistake technical skill involved or duration of labor for the Good, but I do want the implicit curatorial values to be made legible, because I’m in a capitalist system that more often than not exacts a price from us to view or own art but I am then paying to engage with something whose value I don’t understand and am expected to receive fully by merely looking at something without the language or conceptual framework to understand its value, all while contributing to that value, reinforcing it. That seems like a scam to me (forgivable) but also like intellectual hypocrisy (unforgivable).

All of this is a rambling record of first impressions re: the art world and my access to an understanding of its values & criteria. Obviously a way to answer my own questions is to examine the world itself, anthropologically, and dissect its political/cultural/social/financial underpinnings. To learn the common answers, debates addressing these small questions of mine. Which I intend to.

But that these are the questions begged when one confronts the whole system as an ignorant layperson is worth noting in itself, I think, because it draws out some assumptions that are contradictory. Assumptions that imply that art is good and we should look at it and pay to look at it. Assumptions that also imply that beauty is not art and skill is not art and accessibility is not art.

So then what is art? And who gets to decide? We spend our lives taking for granted the fact of a museum, of an art history curriculum, of a canon of famous men and (sometimes) women who have made what we consider “Great Art” without ever being satisfied with a good explanation of why, how come, who says? Especially today?

#art #art history #art theory #tom wolfe

2 notes · View notes

dreamscript · 8 years ago

Text

File #666

“So let me get this straight, Yoongi: you’re saying that this thing is the reason why your friends were found hanging from the ceiling fan? That this was the thing that nearly killed them?”

Yoongi’s convinced a double suicide attempt is actually a murder, and you’re busy stalking a comatose student’s blog.

request - 666: for continue file #666 from welcome to ff.net ; badpasta gone cereal.

horror triggers apply.

5.5k words, horror/thriller, yoongi + reader, college/cop au.

You tug the thick manila folder from the stack of files. File #666, marked as “resolved.” You take it from the storage and back to your cubicle. Ruminate over the case a bit. In a strange, twisted way, it’s funny: for months, members of the department had been making bets and dark-humored jokes about what the six hundredth and sixth case would be. Would it be bizarre? Or something more commonplace?

When case #665 turned out to be the kidnapping of twenty-six schoolchildren and gained international attention, speculations for case #666 grew exponentially. A mass murder. A mysterious outbreak. Or maybe someone would actually manage to summon Satan.

And yet, after all the debates and guesses, case #666 turned out to be a double suicide attempt. It’s uncommon—of course, but it was underwhelming compared to all the expectations it had garnered. You lay the folder on your desk before taking a seat. Two college students. Roommates. Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. You review their profiles, just to make sure that nothing’s been changed.

Nothing has, as expected.

According to the case file, one of them was a blogger—Jimin, you think—and a link to the blog is hastily scribbled on the bottom corner of the folder:

mochi-min. university . blog . com

Dutifully, you type the URL into your browser.

The notes in the folder say that nothing of importance was found on the website; it was simply a loose, carefree, lifestyle blog. The last few entries talked about gaming—but the psychologist’s notes say that the “sudden recession” into “nostalgic times” and the “gaming world” suggest the two stressed students were simply “trying to find an escape from reality.”

And eventually, the two boys realized that the ultimate escape was Death itself, not a digital world of fantasy. So, together, they tied each other’s nooses and hung themselves from their ceiling fan.

Or so the story goes.

You think back to your talk with Yoongi earlier, the way his voice was cracked with desperation, determined to prove the facts wrong. The webpage finally loads.

The minimalistic layout is aesthetic, functional, and the sidebar contains a sunny biography of the blogger:

Jimin. University, ‘19. I love giving advice and writing about my day!!! Dance is my passion and graphic design is my major. Hmu ! ig: @mochi-minz15 sc: @pjm995

Underneath the block of text is a small photo of Jimin. You study his face, compare it to the shots in his file. Yeah—that’s him.

You quickly skim over a few posts, not exactly lingering on a particular one, before sorting them based on chronological order, oldest to newest. Twenty-four entries total. Not bad. You’d been expecting more.

First post!!

“

Hey! I’m Jimin. As an up-and-coming college sophomore, I thought I’d start up this lifestyle blog to provide advice and other college-y things for my younger followers (or at least those who were as anxious and curious about the whole college thing as I was).

School doesn’t begin until next week, but um, here’s this post anyways. I guess I’ll see y’all laters!

”

0 comments

“You’re still on that case?”

Heejun’s voice startles you. Talk about meddling co-workers—seriously. You swear that he and Sehun are the nosiest and biggest gossipers you’ll ever meet.

“Huh–wha–yeah, duh,” you say, turning around to face him. He’s got a mildly amused look on his face, one arm resting casually on your cubicle.

“Didn’t we all conclude it was just a double suicide attempt by two stressed college students?”

“No, you guys did,” you say, turning back to the blog. You’ve still got twenty-three more entries to read. “I wasn’t even assigned to the case, so I never got a say in the manner.”

“So why now?” Heejun shifts his posture. “Why all this sudden interest? And why don’t you think it’s a suicide attempt?”

You turn back to him; it feels a bit awkward talking at a computer. “I was contacted by their best friend, you see. And, funny thing is, their best friend is actually my–oh, what is it? My sister’s cousin-in-law?” Heejun raises his brows skeptically. “Well anyways, we knew each other - kind of - and he insisted that Jimin and Taehyung’s case wasn’t just a suicide.’”

“Then what is it? An almost-successful double murder attempt?” He shoots you a look and you shrug, knowing that a double murder attempt on a college campus is significantly less likely—and plausible—than a double suicide attempt. Heejun crosses his arms.

“I mean, I guess, since besides suicide, there’s no other plausible reason as to why they were both found hanging from the ceiling fan… Thank god Yoongi–that’s their best friend’s name by the way–found them when he did, and the paramedics came when they did, because otherwise those boys would’ve been goners.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be too sure about that. They’re both unresponsive and in critical care. They might be still be goners after all.”

“Have some sensitivity,” you say, and chuck a book at him. He smirks as he straightens up, carefully running a hand through his perfect hair. Prick.

“But seriously, why is that Yoon–Yoonji, was it?–guy so adamant about it being a sort of murder attempt? I can see why the murderer would try to hang them, you know, as a way to fool others into thinking it was a suicide, but what’s the motive? And this was done in a college dorm. Did no one hear any shouting? The walls are pretty thin. The room didn’t seem to show any signs of a struggle, which is weird because this is two full grown men we’re talking about. Not little grade schoolers who will follow you around anywhere ‘long as you got KitKats.”

“KitKats are good,” you say defensively. “But yeah no—that’s what I don’t get either. Who’d want to kill two average, not-rich-but-not-poor college students? What’s there to gain? A higher ranking? A slightly quieter dorm? Was someone jealous that the two of them managed to score a suite? I don’t get it, and Yoongi didn’t have many ideas either, but he vehemently insisted that Jimin and Taehyung would never do that, and that they did not seem to exhibit any signs of depression.”

“And, despite the lack of evidence to back up the claims other than pure intuition, you believed him and are currently studying the case right now.”

“…Yes.”

“On your own free time.”

“…Yes.”

“Please tell me that at least that Yonghi guy or whatever is helping you.”

“Yoongi was actually planning on starting his own investigation, if I hadn’t agreed. So, yes.”

Heejun still continues to look at you judgmentally, so you turn away.

“Well,” he says. “Suit yourself. Don’t forget: we got another briefing at 1.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Friend opened a new shop !

“

So have any of you guys heard of Etsy? I actually didn’t know what it was until one of my friends opened up this like… shop on it. Or at least that’s how he describes it.

Anyways, I went on the website and it looks pretty cool. Kinda like a hipster E-bay and super (SUPER) artsy. My friend asked me to do a promo for him on here, so here it is:

https:/ /www .etsy .com/shop/JoonDaily

He likes to design his clothes and is practically a fashion snob in that respect, but his stuff (I hate to admit it) actually looks really nice… So y’all should go check it out!

”

3 comments

NamsgotJamz commented: Thanks for the shout-out, man. You’re a real homie.

Guest commented: hey guys this rly worx i just made $89./hr part time thanks to this check it out —> bit.ly/work@homescam

Pink_mario commented: what the fuck you never told me you were doing promos, hit me up too. I’ll give you cookies.

The web page buffers for a while before the “no connection” sign comes up. You sigh, tuck your phone back into your pocket. The speeding subway car careens through the tunnel, heading towards Yoongi’s dorm. You check the time—5:06. You’re running a bit late, no thanks to Heejun.

“...the next stop is…”

You get up.

“So?” you say. “Come up with any new ideas?”

Yoongi shrugs. He’s still moody as ever—but now there’s this unsettling darkness about him. Determination. Vengeance. Everything brewing just beneath the surface of his pale skin, his lips thinned into a harsh line.

“I visited their dorm yesterday,” he says.

“Oh? How?”

“Got a key.” He flashes it at you before pocketing it. “Tae used to forget his all the time, so I ended up with a copy. Got it illegally replicated, but that’s beside the point.”

“Not sure if you were supposed to tell that to a cop, but okay.”

He gives you a wry smile. “But right now I consider you my partner in crime.”

You shrug. “Sure.”

“Anyways,” he says, brushing past you and towards the door. “I think that, before I say anything, you should go take a look, too. I saw some pretty… interesting things in there.”

Your chest constricts.

What I do in my Downtime

“

A few of you guys have been asking about what I do in my freetime/downtime—especially since I keep on telling you all that I have so much more of it now that I’m in college.

Well, most of the time I just sit in my dorm and blog, or I’ll go and hang out with my friends. Or I’ll hit the gym.

Recently, though, I’ve been getting kinda nostalgic for the old days—like, the way old days—so I’ve been kinda playing a few childhood games like Smash and Mario Kart. I actually just downloaded this PC version of Pokemon Emerald from, quite frankly, a sketchy website. I don’t think I got any viruses or anything, though. Hopefully.

So. Anyways. I really encourage people to join clubs—I’m part of a few myself—because they give you a community, and they’re always doing fun stuff so you’re never bored. Don’t be like me, though. Actually attend the meetings and get involved. I mean, I do attend some and such, but like… it’s a lot better to be really involved in one club. That’s when things get super fun, because then you really connect with everyone over that one interest….

In the meantime, you can catch me catching ‘em all…. In Pokemon Emerald (I haven’t started it yet, been kinda busy. But I’ll begin it next week and maybe post about my progress on here?)!

”

2 comments

Guest commented: COME TO THE NEXT MODEL UN MEETING, SLACKER!!! We’ll kick you from the next conference otherwise >:(

jungl3-c00kie5 commented: wow college sounds lik so much fun. lmao nxt yr vs me in smash ill shcool u also how much can you benchpress jw

“Just before we go in,” you say, “I just wanted to let you know that I brought their file with me.”

Yoongi nods wordlessly and pushes the door open. “Okay.”

“And according to the file, Taehyung was genderfluid.”

“And?” The door squeaks open. Just as the files say, there appear to be no signs of a struggle; it’s disorderly, yes, but nothing seems to be… violently tossed about. No blood on the walls, or scuffs in the paint.

“He was struggling with his sexual identity and appeared to be having trouble coming to terms both with himself and his parents.”

Yoongi looks annoyed. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but he—he was making it, okay? He was doing well, and we were working on it, and he was slowly just getting his parents to understand.”

“And do you know if he ran into any...problems shortly before his suicide? His parents didn’t tell the cops anything of the sort—but maybe you know?”

“No,” he says bluntly. “I don’t know, but I doubt there wasn’t much of anything. Not when he had so much to live for.”

He leads you into their living room. There are no bodies, but the sense of horror is still in the room, lingering by the ceiling fan. Silently. You and Yoongi both know it and wordlessly move onto their shared bedroom.

“Yoongi,” you say, softly. His back faces you. “I know this might sound a bit… rude but… are you sure you aren’t in… denial?”

He flinches. His fists clench. You steel yourself. And then his fists unclench, and he takes a deep breath.

“Think what you want.”

You chew your bottom lip.

“Come on,” he says, jerking his chin over towards a desk. “I need to show you something.”

He heads over to a laptop, which sits open and blank. It’s been turned off. Yoongi slowly, deliberately pushes it aside, revealing a gray-black skid mark along the cream-colored wall.

“Here,” he says, pointing at the mark. “I was sent over here to help collect the valuables and have them shipped back to their families.”

You nod. “And so what’s so special about this mark?”

“It’s a long story, but in short, I’m 90% sure it’s from the laptop, which means that Jimin—that’s whose desk this is—must’ve like, pushed or thrown this thing against this wall to create such a mark. And like, he’s Jimin. He treasures his computer a lot. Hardly lets anyone touch it and is such a neat freak—like, look. He wipes his keyboard and screen daily. Not a speck of dust. Well, now there is, but before there wouldn’t be.”

Yoongi takes in a deep breath and you urge him to continue. “So he must’ve like, saw something or heard something frightening while on his computer… But I don’t know what. It must’ve been really scary, though.”

“Maybe he was watching horror movies? And this mark could’ve been there before either of them even moved into the apartment. Or it may have appeared during moving. How are you so sure?”

Yoongi shakes his head, slightly frustrated. “Jimin’s a wuss. He wouldn’t do that. And even if he did, he wouldn’t like, throw his computer. One time Jungkook pulled a scare prank on him, and all he did was scream at the screen and back away. This—it’s almost like….” Yoongi shakes his head. “It’s almost like he sensed danger from the computer itself.”

He pauses and meets your skeptical gaze. “Oookay. But that still doesn’t explain how you know that it came from the laptop, and was pretty recent.”

He shrugs. “I’ve done tests. I’ll submit them to you later.”

You narrow your eyes. “Sure, I’ll take a look at them.” You lean in, study the skid mark. Straighten up. “Okay,” you say. “So let’s just go along with this theory you’ve got here. Jimin sees something on his screen, sense his computer is a dangerous object, gets scared, throws and-or pushes it against the wall out of fright. What did he see? And what happens after that? Something crawls from the screen and hangs both him and his roommate?”

Yoongi sighs and deflates slightly. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

You say nothing.

“Hey, you know,” he says. “You said you brought the files, right? Mind if I take a look at them?”

“You’re technically not allowed to,” you reply. “But if it helps us both, then I don’t mind sharing information. You just need to ask for it specifically.”

“Fair enough.”

“He had a blog?”

“You know, for someone who claims to be his best friend, I’m very surprised to know that you didn’t know he had one,” you say. “I mean, so many of his other friends did.”

“I mean like, I did, but I thought it was just some kind of hipster-fluffy-animals Tumblr kind of blog, not like, a legit blog!” Yoongi sounds astounded. “Damn.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Hold up,” he says. “Let me—lemme check this out. How many entries have you read up to?”

“There’s only twenty-four. I’ve read through most of them. Want to look at the rest together? The ones at the beginning didn’t really say much at all.’

“Okay.”

He chuckles at the screen as it loads, comments how the layout is “so Jimin.” He visits the Etsy link, blanches, exits. Most of posts are, just as the file says, carefree and loose.

My new Addiction

“

Oh god, I think I’m addicted to Pokemon now. I’ve only just started Emerald and already I’ve got like, 10 hours on the game. Fuck. Thankfully midterms are over but still…

(I even got my roommate hooked LOL)

Anyways, since we’ve already played this game before, my roomie and I are having a race to see who can beat it the fastest. Loser has to do chores for a week and make food. I’ve invested so much money in repellant it’s ridiculous… but hopefully I’ll be able to make it to the Elite Four like, tomorrow. Maybe.

Oh—almost forgot. I don’t know, maybe it’s because it’s a PC version and such, but this copy of the game has got some really cool (and slightly creepy) mods. And glitches. Like some of the music gets played backwards—especially Lavender Town’s. Man, that is creepy as fuck, lol. And what’s really cool, though, is that some of the people you fight against will have more than 6 pokemon. Like, there was this dude who had 10 magikarps LMFAO.

For any of you guys wanting to play this version (some of you have asked me for the download link and I’ll post that later) just know that sometimes Pokemon in your party will get swapped out/go missing… so always make sure to save!

”

2 comments

tea-HYUNG commented: wtf investing in repellant is such a good idea THANKS FOR THE IDEA MAN NOW GET READY FOR AN ASS WHOOPING TOMORROW BC GUESS WHOSE GOING TO BEAT HTE ELITE 4 B4 YOU?!!! Thaats rite me ho

jungl3-c00kie5 commented: lul kek

After that, the entries stop. There are no other updates after that date… And, with a twisting feeling in your gut, you note the post was made the day right before his death.

Yoongi knows it too, as his breathing stills for a second and he backs away slightly. “This—this is going to sound kind of crazy,” he says. “But do you think… the game… had anything to do with their deaths?”

“You think this is the thing that Jimin saw?”

“I—I don’t know!”

“It’s literally a rip-off Pokemon game. How… Would this kill them? In any way? And it’s two of them, mind you. Plus, to hang them…” You shake your head. “None of this is making sense. I’m sorry.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at the ground.

“That brings me to another point, Yoongi.” He doesn’t respond, still lost in thought. You gently prod him on the shoulder.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” He looks away but this time you know he’s listening.

You take in a breath. “How did you know to go to their place at half-past midnight?”

Jimin groans and cracks his neck, flexes his fingers, knocks back a Coke. The taste is getting a bit overly sweet and the fizz is practically gone from sitting out so long, but he drinks it anyway. Outside, the insistent pitter-patter of rainfall threatens to lull him to sleep but he resists, shifting his position. He’s finally made it to the Elite Four, and there’s no way he’s calling it quits now. Not when he’s so close, and when he knows that Taehyung’s also hard at work playing in the living room.

Ah, rivalry. Jimin tips back his near-empty Coke can, tosses it towards the trash can. He misses. Shrugs. He’ll clean that up later—right now, he’s got to focus on beating the game. His PC finally manages to load up the scene, and, unsurprisingly the music is backwards. He rolls his eyes and turns his volume way down; it’s past midnight and he’s really not in the mood for creepy glitches right now.

The battle begins. The first of the Elite Four sends out her Pokemon and the sound it makes is uncharacteristically loud—especially with his volume turned down so low—and strangely, vaguely reminds him of a twisted cry.

It’s hard, no doubt. His Pokemon are pitifully underleveled—a downside to avoiding all possible confrontation and rushing through the game—and he’s only got a few potions and full revives on hand.

“Come on,” Jimin says under his breath. “I need that critical hit—gimme that critical hit, you can do it, I believ—YES!” He jumps up in his seat, ecstatic.

When he gets to Lance, however, Jimin is more than irked. First of all, Lance isn’t supposed to be in this game; the Dragon-type specialist is supposed to be Drake. However, that’s not what’s bothering him—what’s really pissing him off is the fact that all six of the Pokemon in his party have been replaced with unknowns. His annoyance increases when he realizes the unknowns spell out “UR DEAD.”

Seriously? What kind of sick joke was this? This was probably one of those dumb glitches or mods—only this time it came at one of the worst times. He’s practically blanching at the thought of having to restart and fight the other Elites all over again—especially since the main reason why he’s made it so far is purely by chance. And an immense amount of luck.

“Of course I’m dead now,” Jimin hisses at the screen. “All I’ve got are unknowns! You can’t expect me to go into this fight and win, especially since I don’t have Rayquaza with me now…” He glowers angrily at the Pokemon.

Internally, Jimin fights a raging battle. To restart or not to restart? He chews the inside of his cheek.

“Fuck it, ‘m goin’ in.”

He’s probably going to have to restart the game anyway, so he may as well give it a go. Maybe he’ll luck out.

The battle begins, and the music changes.

Lance sends out his first Pokemon—except, to his pure, unadulterated horror, Jimin sees himself and Taehyung. Bloodied and lifeless. The sound the thing unleashes is eerily akin to screams of terror, shrieks of pain. A violent shudder runs down his spine and, throat dry and heart pounding, he shoves his laptop away from himself.

It makes a loud thump against the wall; the screen flickers. Jimin stands up, staring wide-eyed at the screen. When it flickers back again, the image of him and Taehyung is no longer there. In its place is Lance’s signature Dragonite. No blood, no shrieking noises. Just an orange, big-eyed dragon. Jimin blinks, slowly. Was he—was he imagining things?

In the next room he can hear Taehyung curse out loud. He’s fine. It’s okay. He was just seeing things; sleep deprivation does that to you. He knows—he read it in a psych textbook once. Shakily, Jimin sits back down in his chair, carefully drags his laptop towards him.

It’s just a game, he tells himself. And it’s in his computer. Like, what’s it going to do to him? Flash the Blue Screen of Death? He laughs nervously. It’s fine, he’ll be fine, he just needs to finish the game… And then he can go over and gloat to Taehyung and they can laugh about all the dumb glitches. Yeah—that’s right. That’s what’s going to happen.

Thirty minutes later, Jimin stretches back in his seat, a happy—albeit tired—grin on his face. The final Pokemon screeches in defeat before disappearing into the ground. He’s finally beaten the Elite Four—somehow.

With a jump in his step, he triumphantly skips—and almost trips over various objects—to the living room, where he knows Taehyung will be sitting on the couch, PC in his lap, still furiously battling the Elite Four. He’s practically giddy with the thought of getting to see the defeated, disbelieving look on his roommate’s face.

Jimin sucks in a deep breath, grasps the handle, and throws the door open.

“Hey Tae? Guess wha—oh...fuck.”

He stares, horrified, at the shadowy, limp, very Taehyung-shaped body that swings ominously from the ceiling fan.

And then when he feels the foreign touch of fingers—no, those are bones, he realizes—on his shoulder and the brush of a skull against his cheek, he knows that he’s next.

The rough squeeze of the noose and the sudden up-and-down drop from the ceiling fan cut off his screams before they can begin.

Darkness is all that’s left.

Yoongi’s silent for a moment. And then, quietly, without moving to catch your eye, “What does the file say?”

You flip it open. “It says that you were going to sleep at their place after coming back from a party. Both because of the proximity and to allow your own roommate some… privacy.”

You look up at him, raise a brow. “But was that all it? The timing is almost impeccable. The coroner said they’d only been strangled for a minute or two before you’d found them. Granted, the nooses weren’t the best, but still.”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I mean, yeah, I was planning to crash at theirs after my roomie told me he was going to take some girl home, but I also felt this thing deep down telling me that something was really, really wrong. Call it a sixth sense or intuition or what—I just really felt a need to check on them.” He pauses, takes in a deep breath. “It sounds suspicious, I know. But just to be clear, I have an alibi.”

You nod. “I know. Otherwise I wouldn’t be so willing to help you.”

He swallows, then gestures at Jimin’s computer. “Um, so, about that game he was playing… He never got around to posting the download link, but I happen to know the password to his computer…”

“You’re planning to play that game?” You put a hand on your hip. “How do you know it’s still on there?”

“I don’t, but it won’t hurt to check.”

“So let me get this straight, Yoongi: you’re saying that this thing is the reason why your friends were found hanging from the ceiling fan? That this was the thing that nearly killed them?” You gesture at the computer.

He shrugs. “I mean, what else do we have?”

“That’s true, but…”

“All that’s left is to play and see. What’s there to lose?” Yoongi shakes the mouse and boots up the PC.

You roll your eyes. Whatever. “Who knows?”

Three hours later, and the two of you have yet to encounter any of the glitches that Jimin reported.

“That’s weird,” you say. “Could it be possible he may have been exaggerating them a bit…?”

Yoongi reaches back and scratches his head. “I don’t think so… But at the same time I can’t come up with any other reasonable explanation as to how this is so different…”

You shrug. “I don’t know—maybe giving all that suspense attracted more blog viewers. People do strange things to attract more views, you know. Just saying.”

Yoongi seems reluctant and lost. “Maybe there was something wrong with the wiring that would explain some of the sounds…” He continues to mutter to himself, checking the sides of the PC before picking it up entirely. “But how does the ethernet wire affect the speakers? Maybe I can take it over to the Geek Squad at Best Buy or something…”

You sigh, check the time. “It’s getting late, Yoongi. I’m sorry, but I think I need to go. If you want, we could schedule another meeting next week? I’ll see if I can pull any more information from the servers.”

He nods absentmindedly. “Same place, same time? Wait, no actually, can we do it a bit later? Like, is 7 okay? I know it’s going to be dark and all but…”

“Sure.”

The final Pokémon faints, fades away, before the triumphant, happy music comes in. You yawn, stretch back in the chair. Behind you, with his legs crossed and elbows propped on the armrests, Yoongi lounges in his seat, thinking.

“So I guess that confirms it.”

You blink at him. “Confirms what? That I suck at Pokemon? It’s not my fault that you’re so crap at levelling them up—the only one above level 20 is your starter! How the hell am I supposed to fight a team of level 25 Pokemon with this mess?”

“No, not that,” Yoongi says. “And by the way, I don’t normally do that. It’s only that way since I was just messing around—wasn’t taking the game all that seriously.”

“Oh.”

“But anyways, back to the point. I was playing this game on and off through the week, sometimes alone, other times with friends and… I noticed that… the glitches only happened when I was alone…” He looks down. “And…”

“And?”

“And at one point… when one of the guys sent out a Pokemon… I could’ve sworn for a second there that... Instead of a Pokemon, it was a picture of me… except, well, bloodied. Brutally.” Yoongi swallows. “But it quickly disappeared right after a friend of mine walked into the room… Everything went normally after that. But um, I’m really really sure I wasn’t imagining it. I think I’m probably going to post on the forums and see if anyone else experiences something similar… I tried searching for stuff and the original file of this game but not only was I unable to find it, but for some reason the file is locked. Encrypted. I can’t get to it without a password, and I have no idea what it could be. Fortunately, I have a few friends who are heavily involved in cyber, so after we finish examining this game, I was planning to call them and have them help me somehow upload the game onto an online download link so we as a community can post about our experiences and stuff. Y’know?”

He fiddles with his fingers. Your eyes narrow.

“Anyways,” he says, “We should probably finish up with this game anyways. You wanna continue playing or...”

When you don’t answer, he prods you on the shoulder. “Hello?”

“As I thought,” you say, “You’re too dangerous.”

He gives you a confused, slightly suspicious look. “What?” You whip your head around, get out of your seat.

“Nevermind that,” you say, and, quickly, before he can attempt anything, shove a cupcake-shaped stress reliever—it had been sitting on the desk—into his mouth and quickly straddle him, holding his wrists together in one hand with a vice-like grip. He makes incoherent noises as he attempts to fight you off.

“It’s too bad, Yoongi,” you say, as you fumble out the length of rope with your free hand. “If you hadn’t been so adamant about it all, we could’ve avoided this fate. But the thing is you didn’t—you continued to meddle and stick your nose into something that you shouldn’t have. And now, unfortunately, you are going to have to be—well, silenced.” His movements are getting more frantic now.

“Min Yoongi,” you continue, as you swiftly—or as quickly as you can manage with one hand—loop together a noose, “a college student overcome with grief upon losing his two closest friends. After countless hours of research that ultimately led to nothing, he succumbed and hung himself in the very room his late friends took their lives in. How unfortunate.”

You gently place the noose around his neck. He fights hard against you, hands desperately trying to pry themselves from your grip. You giggle.

“That’s not going to work, you see. The undead have much greater strength with the benefit of having no muscle to tire out.” As you speak, a beam of moonlight filters in through the window and reveals you for what you really are: the human skin and flesh disappears under the silvery rays, leaving nothing behind but knotted and rotting bones. A skeleton, with no fingerprints to leave behind or heart to feel emotions.

His struggles stop abruptly as fear overtakes his body. You give him a lopsided grin. “Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

Inside the University Hospital, on the fourth floor, two heart monitors beep. Their slow, mechanical sounds echo off of the walls, seeping through the cracks and diffusing in the stale air. The place smells of antiseptic.

The monitors continue to beep. In unison, the spacing between each sound growing longer and longer until finally, there’s one long, unfaltering beep that continues for nearly a minute.

And then there is nothing at all.

a/n: @goldfishh , after reading this: What The Fuck

helloooo i have a chem test in two days that i know nothing about it’s chill. so. many. projects. holy shit. and then exams starting next week fuuuun

anyways if you watched the video this was based off (it’s hilarious--it’s supposed to be a parody of bad creepypastas) then like. maybe the ending was kinda obvious lol

tbh if it was up to me (like if i weren’t trying to base it off the video) then the ending would have been much different. you, for one, would not have turned into a skeleton lmFAO

#btswriters #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #bts fanfiction #yoongi #bts #bts scenario #yoongi scenario #writing #drabble game 4 #not rly a drabble tho LOL #horror #college au #detective au

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whatdimissmotherfuckers · 8 years ago

Text

Maybe that’s the problem

THIS IS A SERIES. PART 2 Part 3

Word count: 2939

Summary: You go to one of philip hamiltons famous parties, and next thing you know, you wake up in his house. shit happens.

Au: Highschool Au

Pairing: Philip x Reader

Warning: Uh. French, mentions of sex??? but really just. the word, underage drinking/smoking (dont do drugs kids) i think thats it. Note:good god guys, I really loved writing this. Also, I always think of so much to say in the notes when i’m actually writing, but now i forgot all of it. No proofreading, we die like men. I love Georges, anyone wanna see a georges fic? AND Want this to be a multipart fic???? And yeah. I listened to Initiation from The Weeknd, so i recommend you do to. Even if it doesn’t have much to do with the story YET. And georges is sleeping with philip, im sure. (you will understand later) Enjoy. Thats it. Also thanks to @fanfrickinhamiltasticimagines for helping me with the name so philips generation. Check her out guys. She hella cool. Done. Oh. @lookaroundlookaroundhowlucky wanted to be tagged. okay im out.

"You've never been to a Hamilton-Party?!"

You couldn't help but giggle at your friend Abigail, her eyes were widened in shock. "I've already told you a thousand times I've never been to any parties, Nabby", you reminded her, before taking a seat next to the girl. Abigail lifted her shoulders, giving you a shrug. "Yeah, but the ones at Hamiltons’ are different. I didn't know you meant those too", she alleged, plunking down into the chair. Raising an eyebrow in amusement, you explained yourself. "I told you my parents are trying to prevent me from underage drinking at all costs. How was I supposed to find a way to go there anyways?" Your words made your friend twist her mouth. "Hmm", she hummed, hesitating. She seemed to be contemplating something, which made you curious in an instant. "What are you thinking about?", you asked her, shifting around in your seat. "Oh nothing", Abigail informed you, as a wide smile began spreading across her face, "I was just wondering what I should borrow you for tonight! We're gonna pay the Hamilton Estate a visit!" Reluctant, you crossed your arms. "I don't know. I mean, I'm not even invited. And if my parents would find out...", you didn't even bother to finish your sentence. Your parents were horribly strict and it already took you almost a week to persuade them to let you stay overnight at Abigail's home. "Come on, don't be such a party pooper! I'll be with you, and it'll be fun. Trust me!", she reassured you, grabbing your shoulder. "Nobody will find out! And you don't need an invitation! Everybody can go. Okay? Are you with me?" A deep sigh escaped your throat, before you slowly nodded. "I'm not gonna regret this, am I?", you joked, but all you received was a shrug, before Abigail left the room.

"I'm really, really sure, this is a bad idea", you decided, as you stood in the basement of the Hamilton Estate, which was designated as a party room. It was already packed with people, and you could barely see anything, because it was dark for the most parts. Diffused blue lights were place here and there, making you instantly uncomfortable with the shady surroundings. You could hear the distant voice of The Weeknd singing "Initiation", but you were pretty sure the music was supposed to be more loud and cheerful during normal parties. Abigail nudged you with her elbow, giggling in amusement. "Ohhh, are you scared?", she mocked teasingly, grabbing your arm. "Don't be, let's go over to Theo." Before you could complain, she was already dragging you across the room, making you almost trip. This was one of the rare moments of you wearing high heels, but Abigail insisted that they would fit perfectly into the occasion. Now that you could be the judge of that, you completely disagreed. Nobody would noticed them, it was far too dark to see anything. But at least they matched your purse, right? Beauty knows no pain. As you came nearer towards Theodosia, she was already waving you, a warm smile on her lips. She was one of your closer friends, which you were very thankful for, because she was an absolute cinnamon-roll and always cared for you. But seeing her here made you begin to wonder. You never deemed her for being someone who goes to parties. "Good to see you girls", she greeted the two of you, drawing you into a tight embrace, making you inhale the scent of her cologne mixed with the unpleasant smell of cigarettes. "Why are you here?", you inquired shamelessly, after she had let go of you. "Joseph dragged me here", Theo avowed, and made a gesture with her hand, pointing to a boy who was currently pouring a drink. Joseph was her boyfriend, and they were in a happy relationship for almost three years now. You gave a small nod, before you turned to the boy next to her, who wasn't engaging into the conversation at all.

He was taller than all of the girls, and as far as you could judge, he had a dark skin-colour, and short,dark locks, fitting his handsome face nicely. Constantly biting his lips, he didn't even seem to notice that you were staring at him, till you cleared your throat, which resulted in instantly having his darting eyes on him. "I haven't seen you around the school, who are you?", you asked him, trying not to drown out Abigails voice, because you didn't want to interrupt her dialogue with Theo. Giving you sheepish look, he put forth some words in a foreign language you couldn't understand. "Sorry, I couldn't understand you. Could you repeat yourself?” He nodded, carefully repeating what he said. It turned out he was only introducing himself and had a french accent. "Mon name is Georges Washington Louis Gilbert de La Fayette, nice to meet you." Your face was flushed with shame as you realized the foreign language was his name, and hastily gave him your name. "Yeah, I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N), nice to meet you too", you stammered, wanting to shake his hand, as he slowly lowered himself to your height to kiss your cheeks. Struggling to speak, you just fidgeted with your hands, making him understand that you weren't used to the french etiquette. "Oh, je suis désolé! I forgot that you Americans don't greet", he said, scratching the back of his head. "It's okay", you assured him, after your cheeks had taken on a normal colour again. "You're french?" His eyes sparkled at your words, making both him and you smile. "Yes! I'm an exchanged student and I sleep with him!" Georges pointed at a boy on the other side of the room, who immediately caught your eyes. You wanted to correct Georges funny English, but instead your gaze was fixed on the person he had pointed to. You were amazed by his handsome freckled face, and the wild, long curls, framing his face in a perfect way. Sitting relaxed on of the couches, he was surrounded by a group of people, mostly consisting of girls,and held some sort of glass in his hand. For a moment, his sharp eyes met yours and you felt your heart racing almost immediately.

Feeling someone tapping your shoulder, you swiftly shook your head, before turning towards the person interrupting you in your thoughts. "Hey. Are you eyeing the Hamilton-boy?", Theo queried, narrowing her eyes. You took another look at the boy, who seemed to be Philip, the host of the party and nodded eagerly. Theodosia seemed to be unamused by your interest and raised her eyebrows, warning you with a wagging finger. "If I were you, I would stay away from him. He's a total player and will steal your virginity, independence and dignity in one night", she cautioned, and Abigail shoved a red cup into your hand, encouraging you to drink from it. "Come on, forget about Philip,let's get drunk (Y/N)!" Without hesitation, you downed the drink. As you felt the bitter liquid running down your throat, you had to resist the urge to throw up on the spot. "Damn. I can't imagine why anyone would want to do this by their own choice", you remarked, making your friends laugh.

You were waken up by the pulsing pain in your head, and groaned quietly, rolling around in the large bed. Blinking confusedly, you tried to open your eyes, but regretted it immediately,since the brightness of the day only hurt you. You had no idea of what happened yesterday, but your heavy head clearly spoke volumes for that. Hoping that nobody took pictures of that night, you stretched yourself a bit, yawning. At least you woke up in your own bed. How you got home was a miracle though. Probably Abigail carried you home. You smirked at the imagination and buried your face further into your pillow, inhaling the pleasant smell of fabric softener. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks. This didn't smell like your bed sheets, it had a distant smell of men's cologne. And since when was your bed so huge that you could roll around in it?

Realizing this could not be your bed, you jolted up, widening your eyes in shock. Dizziness added to the pain in your head from the sudden action, but you didn't care. And as you noticed, who was laying next to you, in nothing more than boxershorts, you swallowed. Dark, curly hair. A lot of it. Hidden under it was a peaceful, freckled face, sleeping soundly. Looking down, you saw yourself in nothing more than your black underwear. "Fuck", you breathed, rubbing your forehead. Did you really have sex with the only person you were warned of? More importantly, did you have your first time with someone and forgot all about it? Before you could think of more embarrassments, you hastily got out of bed, searching for your clothes.

You took a closer look around the room. Mostly consisting of very light colors and minimalistic furniture, you thought that it looked very luxurious. But than again, should you expect less from the son of a politician? Not that you knew much about Philip, this was the only piece of information you had. Despite pacing around a few times, you couldn't spot your black dress in the room. Another groan of frustration escaped your mouth. How were you supposed to go home in this attire? But, as you glimpsed at the bed, you decided waking Philip up seemed like a bad idea too. Shouldn't one-night-stands be gone in the morning? Did he offer you to stay? You wished you knew, but no. Your hungover brain had to forget the most essential things about last night. The only thing you could remember was talking to Abigail, Theodosia and Georges...Georges! The french boy mentioned, that he was staying at Philips home. Maybe you could ask him for some clothes. He would surely understand the situation you were in.

You hastily made your way to the door, trying to open it as quietly as you could, but instead it squeaked like an old garden gate, making you cringe.

"Where are you planning on going?" Philips voice was half husky, half sleepy and let a shiver run down your spine as you heard him. Feeling caught, you slowly turned around on the spot. Trying to play cool, you leaned against the doorframe. What would a one-night-stand say right now? Did you enjoy yourself last night? Hastily, you ran your thoughts through all the scenarios you knew from any movies you had watched, but as soon as you saw his face grinning smugly, you lost your composure. Instantly, you felt your cheeks redden and your heart pounding in your chest. "H-Hi. I'm se-searching m-my clothes", you stuttered, facepalming yourself internally. Philip started laughing at you, slowly raising himself from the bed. You couldn't resist the chance and gave him a once-over, as he slowly walked towards you.

"You don't know a thing about yesterday, do you?", he asked in an amused tone. Relaxed, he took a strand of your hair into his hand, toying with it. You admitted he was right, and with a deep chuckle, he desisted from making you more nervous. As he put some clothes on, you were reluctant, but asked anyways. "Do... you know more than I do?" Confident in his position, Philip lifted his head. "Of course I do. Girl, do you really think we had sex? Because if we did, you would've remembered it." He winked at you, which made you raise your eyebrows. "Care to enlighten me? Can you tell me why I am here, almost naked?", you queried. A grin spread across his face. "I can, but I'm not sure if you really want to hear it", he warned you, buttoning up his shirt. With a gesture of your hand, you demanded him to continue. Philip exhaled deeply, before he spoke, as if he had to recall what exactly happened. "So, after a while, we were running low on alcohol and I wanted to get some more in my house. You followed my, pressed me, and tried to undress me multiple times. Despite the fact that I declined, you would stop bothering me. So, suddenly, you ripped your dress off, throwing yourself on me. I couldn't let you into the crowd half naked, so I decided to make you sleep here", he explained bluntly. Feeling the blood pumping into your head, you quickly covered your face with your shaking hands. This was a lot more embarrassing than what you thought happened. But at least, this also meant that you still had your virginity. What did Abigail say again? He'll steal your virginity, independence and dignity in one night. Well, at least you still had two out of three things. "Sorry for forcing myself on you..and stuff. And thanks, for not taking advantage, I guess", you said, deeply ashamed. Philip gave a little shrug and handed you some clothing. "Here. I threw your dress away, to be honest, but you can keep this." Philip opened the door, but before he left, he turned to you again, adding:" Do you want to eat something or leave right away? Maybe get some painkillers for the headache?" After you were fully clothed, you decided, to eat together with him, eager to find out more about Philip. It couldn't get any worse, you thought.

After a few minutes, both of you were sitting on a large table in the living room, which was fully packed with all sorts of food. Widening your eyes, you got way too excited at the sight and didn't listen to what Philip said, as something brushed slightly against your shoulder. You turned your head to see Georges exiting the room, waving you goodbye. He said something, but you couldn't understand him, because his mouth was occupied with a croissant.

"He's late for church", Philip explained, taking a sip out of his glass. You nodded slowly, not knowing what to say, and silently, both of you began to eat. There were no sounds, except for the maid humming in the kitchen and the clattering of silverware. You glimpsed over to him, to see if he had any interest in a conversation, but he was busy with typing something into his phone, so you decided to shut your mouth. The occasional glances were getting longer and longer, till you didn't even bother to look away anymore. "So, I heard you were a player. Why did you decline my...offer yesterday?", you finally broke the silence, and regretting it in an instant, as you saw the amused expression on his face. "Well", he drawled,"Maybe it was the fact that you kept saying you wanted to have your first time with me. And I don't do completely wasted virgins." Once again, you could feel your cheeks burning, and you lowered your head. "God.. do you think it's possible to block out memories...entirely?", you asked him, half joking, half serious. "First of all, you can just call me Philip", he replied, making you sigh in annoyance. "Second... If you drink hard enough. Why do you think I host all these parties?" With a deep chuckle, he put away his phone and took a closer look at you. What he said, made you contemplate.

"Why do you, actually?", you inquired, leaning a bit forward. Philip sighed, rolling his shoulders. "I mean, I'm not a expert.. But it just seems wasting your time. You can do so much better", you asserted, tapping your fingers against the table. Philip let out an exasperated sigh and crossed his arms. "It's fun", he insisted offhanded, and you decided not to dig into it further, which led to another moment of awkward silence. His focused eyes were laying on you and he seemed to watch every move of you, making it impossible for you to eat anything. "The Adams-girl has your purse", the freckled boy informed you without any context and made you even more uncomfortable. Fidgeting around in your seat, you decided it was time to go home. "I'll bring you to the door. Do you need money?", he asked, surprisingly polite and you declined. "Nabby only lives a few streets away." "That's her name.. Yes, I visited her house a few times because of my dad", he remembered, tipping slightly against his temple, as the two of you made your way through his home. As you were finally standing in front of the door, you thanked him again, and managed to conjure a faint smile on his face. Leaning against a wall, Philip nodded slowly. "I hope you come crash my party next weekend again",he suggested, making you laugh. "And maybe cut back on the alcohol", he added and opened the door in a swift manner.

As you headed out, you couldn't help but face him again, trying to memorize every part of his face, before you left. Despite his invitation, you didn’t want to come back so soon. "I hope you find what you're looking for", you said in a seemingly insignificant way, before turning away.

"But I'm not looking for anything", Philip replied with a questioning tone and scratched his neck.

"Maybe that's the problem", you muttered quietly, but loud enough so he could hear it, walking away at a steady pace. "Wait!", he suddenly hollered, but you didn't slow down. " I don't even know your name!"

A smile spread across your face. He didn't even know your name.

#hamilton #philip x reader #why do i write like i'm running out of time #philip hamilton #georges washington de lafayette #hamilton imagine #hamilton x reader

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