#but they manage to IMMEDIATELY hit me with new shit that adds another little sprinkle of mental illness onto my brain

[runesfactory]

run cried the crawling | 03

summary: Tasokare Hotel is a place that exists between the real world and the afterlife. A residing place for spirits whose fate has yet been decided. To die or to live on. Aesop has yet to discover the truth behind his own near demise. It was until a stranger walked through the doors of the hotel with an owl head that the horrific truth began to unravel.

pairing: aesop carl x eli clark

genre: mystery, supernatural & gothic romance

word count: 5399

warnings:  mature themes. descriptive writing of violence and blood. body horror. strong angst. equally strong romance. heavy pining. mild profanity. death. tasokare hotel spoilers.

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | ...

The more time Eli spends at the hotel, he discovers new things every day just by observing his surroundings. He meets odd guests and peculiar staff that he hasn’t met before. Not to mention, he’d get lost through some of the halls that seem to elongate themselves and each curve of every corner lead him to many different places, he wasn’t aware of before. Surely, all with the guidance of Emma herself. He finds her never-ending enthusiasm over the smallest of things to be refreshing.

That’s not to say he’s gotten used to being there. Certainly not. He counts time passing by days by striking a line written on paper each time he wakes up from sleep. Even with seeing the same thing, nothing about the place feels like home. It brings you comfort. It doesn’t help too that the windows of his room show the night sky. It’s quite the sight, but nothing like the barren world he entered when he first arrived.

There’s the faint sound of the train tracks vibrating against the ground. The smell of grass after a day full of rain along with the breezy wind. Not to mention the small freckles of stars decorating the night sky. Looking out his window feels like he’s in a whole different world: reality. It’s nothing like the hotel because it feels real. It’s all real, aside from the fixed night sky. That aspect is very much unreal, though as a night person himself, he doesn’t mind. He takes in the cold breeze with ease in his heart.

Eli looks up at the stars and unconsciously begin to connect lines between each spec.

Like they’re meant to be connected to create a whole picture.

Constellations are fascinating. It may seem like widespread random bits of stars interconnected as a whole, but it’s far from that. There’s meaning to them, even as random or sporadic it may seem pattern-wise. Perhaps it’s the same for our memories. Plenty of it scattered all over our tiny heads like sprinkles on top of ice cream, and each of them holds meaning.

So, when one piece is lost, then it’s impossible to create something whole again.

Eli believes that, at least. But perhaps, it’s all too hopeful since memories can be so fragile. Recollecting certain memories can have so much effect on you and it is so painful that it leads us to our worst points. Having to regain his memories back feels like he’s being tasked to gather the stars, rebuild the constellation again. But without knowing how it looked like, to begin with. An impossible task.

He’s written down things that he remembers, but couldn’t come up with anything significant. It brought everything to a halt. Although Eli maintains a calm demeanor most of the time. However, the moment the door of his bedroom closes, he’s devastated. What happens then if he doesn’t remember? He can’t imagine living the rest of his not-so-alive life in this state of limbo. Not for him, at least.

From the amount of thinking he’s done, he feels he’d be bound for yet a sleep-deprived week. So he’s come up with an idea. An idea that, well, to keep him occupied while doing his own investigation and that idea would be—

“You want to help around at the hotel?” Emma tilts her head to the side, albeit her smile still displayed across her face as friendly as ever. It’s a new day at the hotel and Eli finds himself assisting in Emma’s room with her surprisingly large indoor garden. She’s been staying up all morning making sure every single plant is well-taken care of. It’s quite surprising to see how vastly different other people’s rooms are compared to his, convinced that each of those rooms does reflect the individual. A room is like a heart after all.

“Sure! I don’t see why not! I mean, the manager’s probably not opposed to the idea of having extra hands on board. But can’t say the same for Ms. Nair.”

“Ms. Nair? The bartender?”

Emma nods. “She’s mostly responsible for, well, everything. Ms. Nair is a little bit strict on choosing who gets to help around here. So, it might be harder to convince her.”

Vera Nair. Eli’s only seen her once before while he’s exploring around the hotel. She was quite the busy woman, always rushing from one end of the hotel to the other when there are a handful of guests around. Her appearance is quite distinct. Always wearing a campy outfit dripped in the colour purple, with her sharp heels clicking against the floors being one of the things that will make anyone aware of her presence.

“Then I would need to speak to her to help around here, right?” Eli questions putting one hand under his chin in a fist.

“Yep, but I’d say it’s best to talk to Norton first before approaching her! She trusts Norton a whole lot so who knows he can put a good word to ‘ya!” Emma nudges the side of his arm.

Norton Campbell. He remembers the man from the other day. He’s quiet, almost unhinged by Eli’s presence though Eli can’t quite point out exactly the atmosphere the man exudes. He has a peculiar getup himself. A mask that hides a portion of his face with such refined details accompanied by a dark maroon blazer, accentuated by gold threads sewn in patterns. The red scar over his left eye, the metal piercings over the bridge of his nose, and well, his glare. Uneasy to him, but maybe it’s just him.

“Good luck on finding Norton though. He’s a bit of a fickle to find.” She adds.

“How so?”

“Hmm,” Emma pauses, “It’s like… he’s everywhere, but nowhere all at the same time? I mean, one time I would see him with Naib then the next, poof! Gone! Nowhere to be found!”

Everywhere, but nowhere. He’d agree more on the latter.

He continues to find the figure from every corner of the hotel, but luck doesn’t seem to side with him. Eli finds himself on the unexpected side of the hotel. The indoor gardens, a much bigger one than the one in Emma’s room. Now that he thinks about it, just how big her room is? Oh well, it doesn’t matter really.

The greenhouse has a tall ceiling watching over him and quite the jungle in there. He could only hear the water hitting the surface of a fountain placed at the center of the glasshouse. His steps echo through the empty room as he fondly gazes over the plants around him. An excitement bubbles within him when his eyes land on small critters wandering around certain plants, recognizing them by heart. Unfortunately, he doesn’t bring along his journal.

“Aren’t you a lovely one?” He gleefully says to the squirrel that’s giving him a puzzled look with those large, glimmering eyes. The place makes him feel at ease. Animals do at least. His fingers gently graze over the soft fur, causing the little animal to lean closer to his hand. He remembers about his own lovely bird, Brooke. He misses her. Seeing the empty birdcage in his room becomes a reminder of the empty confinement in his heart. At least he knows being in nature brings him comfort, another thing for him to hold onto in a world full of unfamiliarity.

It doesn’t seem searching through the place bears any fruit after all. He takes the last few glances around as a way to make sure. Then, his eyes catch the presence of a certain silver-haired man. Eli carefully watches him from a safe distance before approaching. Aesop looks down at the golden flowers. Yellow roses. His covered hands touch them gently as if a mere touch would break them. There’s a soft look in Aesop’s eyes that Eli couldn’t describe. Fondness, perhaps. That’s the word he’s looking for.

But while he’s preoccupied feeling mesmerized at the individual, he fails to notice his shifting body. Bump! He trips falls face-first onto the ground. Causing a ruckus, unsurprisingly. “Shit,” He curses to himself. Quite the elegant fall, he hisses at himself internally. A hand appears before him, his face shifts from a painful wince to a surprised one. When he looks up, he sees the same gentle eyes he was admiring just a few seconds ago.

Eli takes the hand, heart beating fast now before standing up. Patting off the leaves clinging onto his pants while chuckling to himself. “My! That was, uh, very clumsy of me! Not surprised. My sense of balance is shaky at best.” He jokes. As if it would lighten up any awkwardness that could come up from him being a creep by watching from a distance.

Aesop’s eyes flutter away, pulling his hand away slowly. He stares at the scratch that appears on Eli’s hand. Probably from brushing itself against the harsh branch. He did fall with quite the impact through the bushes. Not to mention the thorns. Why did he think hiding behind a bush full of roses was ever a good idea? But then, good ideas are not exactly Eli’s strongest suit.

“You’re hurt.” A simple fact stated by Aesop himself, but coming from him, it’s laced with worry. He says it quietly, but it doesn’t hide away the exasperation.

“Oh, it’s fine. This is nothing, really. You don’t have to worry about it. It was my clumsy mistake.” Eli brushes it off with a fling of his hand and a soft chuckle. But it doesn’t wash away the concern now forming on Aesop’s face. Like clockwork, Aesop pulls out a handkerchief and a tiny bottle from his inner pocket. He gently dabs the content of the bottle onto the cloth, letting some sip through before pressing it gently on the wound.

“Antiseptic. So, it doesn’t get worst.” He continues to carefully brush over the wound with the cloth. He does it all with so much care and attentiveness. Eli notices that almost immediately. From their first encounter when he first arrived. Aesop’s mannerism, way of speaking captivated Eli. Some might find it standoffish, but he just finds it riveting. It’s probably because he’s pretty. He thought of that once.

Although to be fair, Aesop is very attractive. He’d be lying to himself if he ever says otherwise. The first encounter they had when he first arrives, he tried his best to not show his nerve-wracking self.

All that aside, Aesop cares about his craft. He’s very meticulous with his tasks. He seems unwavering especially in front of others. “You’re very prepared, Mr. Carl.” He compliments him instead, trying to brush off the very fact that this very attractive man is tending to his wounds. By the gay gods, what will he do? If he says something stupid and makes a fool out of himself, he’s going to—

“It’s simply part of the job,” Aesop replies shortly. Giving the wound a final rub before covering it with a bandage that Eli doesn’t see him pulling out. It’s no ordinary bandage though. It’s a blue bandage covered in some patterns he couldn’t describe. It’s cute. So very cute.

He continues to ask Eli, “What are you doing here, if I may ask?”

“Oh,” Eli stammers, “Oh, uh, I was looking for Mr. Campbell! I’ve been looking everywhere, but it seems that he’s nowhere to be seen.”

Aesop tilts his head to the side slightly. “Norton?"

He nods, a tad bit too enthusiastically maybe. “I want to ask for him to put in a word for me to Ms. Nair. I’m looking to help around the hotel, as I’ve told already to Emma.”

Aesop’s eyes widen slightly but don’t say much. Eli wonders if it had rubbed him in the wrong way from the way the slightly taller man’s expression switches almost in a blink of an eye. The silence coming from the man lasts longer than his own comfort, but he doesn’t say it.

“It’s just that,” He ponders over his words for a moment. “I’d hate to put the burden on you for helping me recover my memories. I thought about it after what had happened, and I completely understand you need some time away from it. Take as much time as you need.”

Eli just smiles at Aesop then continues. “I thought it’d be best to figure things out by mine how things work around here. I must be honest, I’m a little lost most of the time but think I’ll be less confused if I just get the hang of things.” He gestures a thumbs up playfully. Probably embarrassing himself slightly, but it’s the truth. “And again, I apologize for what happened. I don’t think any number of apologies could convey how sorry I am.”

“No, not at all. It’s okay.” Aesop responses come out like soft whisper almost.

Of course, the tension is a little awkward. Eli doesn’t want to scare away Aesop like last time, but he keeps in mind to make sure not to overwhelm him. His mind scatters what should he say then it comes out. “So, how are you feeling now?”

“Much better,” This time Aesop smiles a little. It sends warmth through Eli’s chest. “Thank you for asking, Mr. Clark.”

“Eli.”

“Hm?”

“Just Eli is fine. But feel free to call me anything you’d like, whatever fits your cup of tea. I just thought Mr. Clark would be much too formal unless you prefer Mr. Clark. Then that’s fine!” He stammers. Aesop nods at that.

“Thank you, Eli.” His name slips out of Aesop’s lips like a gentle whisper. It feels just right, Eli thinks. He just can’t figure out exactly why it feels that way, so he brushes it off. For now.

“Well,” Eli takes a deep breath. “I best be on my way to continue my search. Or I’ll just ask Ms. Nair right away, doesn’t seem like Mr. Campbell’s available anyway.” He takes a few steps back, bowing slightly at Aesop. “It was nice chatting with you, Mr. Carl.”

He turns around with his back facing Aesop. The sound of the water hitting the fountain’s surface echoes through the chamber along with his footsteps. All is quiet, until-

A little murmur.

“Hm?” Eli turns his head towards Aesop, who’s now looking down at his feet. Avoiding eye contact it seems. His fingers fidgeting, not knowing what to grasp nor do. “Did you say anything, Mr. Carl?”

“Aesop…” It’s very faint, but Eli catches it in his ear. “Call me Aesop.” Although Aesop is generally soft-spoken, there’s a certain lightness in his tone. A positive one. To that, Eli smiles widely at him.

“Okay, Aesop.” He speaks through his smile, unable to put it down it seems. “It’s nice talking to you.” It feels right and he can’t leave it be.

“Same to you,” Aesop pauses, forming a small smile on his face. “Eli.”

Just as Eli walks away, he finds it hard to control the explosive sparkles blasting within his chest and the churning tickles in his stomach. It feels right, he echoes in his mind. And he can’t let the feeling go.

After their meeting, Aesop feels oddly lighter though unsurprisingly, quite wary. A little less than before though. He feels he’s been walking on thin ice all this time ever since the last memory trigger. Unconsciously always, his hands would reach to the back of his head. His eyes fluttering, confused, and lost. But time passes, so he too must move forward somehow. He’s gotten a little better now, less tense and less frequent visits to the doctor’s office, but there’s always that dread that it’ll happen again. At some point, it will. It has to.

“Focus.” He tells himself through deep breaths.

In the middle of brewing some tea, he’s lost himself in his own thoughts it seems. Only brought back to the present from the ting of the spoon against the ceramic cup. The slight pinch he gives himself doesn’t help besides leaving a red spot. Maybe he needs some caffeine in his system to wake him up, but what good does that do to a barely living soul? He stares down at his hands. The way his slender finger curls up to his palm, but rather than his own skin it’s the white gloves that he’s been wearing.

He gets the sense that he’s always worn gloves. Part of his wardrobe as he worked his days at the morgue. By the looks of it, the habit comes along with him even now. He wonders if he’ll ever be out of there, rather if it’s worth the effort to fight for the life he once knew. There are too many questions, too many uncertainties. It makes him anxious, causing his heart to beat fast at the thought of the unknown. So, Aesop brushes it off. For now, at least. Let him live a moment of peace without dreading the unknown. If the afterlife can grant him that, he’ll live his way here to his end.

Aesop carries the tray full of snacks and tea down the hallway of the third floor. Emma was responsible to assist this guest, however, she has come to him for aid and he agrees. With him, he’s brought freshly baked cookies aside from the full course meal that Naib has prepared. Something about the guest barging into his kitchen unannounced, but mostly Norton is to blame. So here he is. With his feet stomping against the carpeted floor, balancing himself to avoid the tray from wavering even the slightest.

“If it’s not too much, please make sure there’s not another bottle of liquor in there! Ms. Nair has made sure it wouldn’t happen, but I’m just worried.” Emma’s note stuck in the back of his mind.

When approaching the door, Aesop prepares himself. He knocks on the door. And before he could say anything, it opens.

“Ms. Bourbon?” He calls out to her, greeted by the darkness of the room. Now both hands tightly grip on the food tray. He pushes the door further, now the light of the hall shines inside of the room, giving a glimpse of its state. Messy would be one. Plenty of items are scattered all over the wooden floor. Several bottles on the side of the bed, covering almost all its surface. There, on the bed, is a lump. It rises and down slowly and Aesop concludes where the guest is resting.

“Ms. Bourbon, I’ve come with your food and drinks,” Aesop speaks softly, placing the tray on the coffee table that’s placed not far from the bed. Half of its taken over by even more empty bottles and glasses. It’s a wonder that the room doesn’t smell like alcohol.

He takes one last look around the room, observing every corner. Perhaps, he could assist in cleaning it a little, but he wouldn’t want to disrupt her rest.

“Please make sure to eat, Ms. Bourbon.” He says to her one last time before heading towards the door. Just as he’s about to step out, he hears a loud thump. He turns his head towards the source of the sound, and he sees her slipped out of the sheets. The upper half of her body fallen over to the floor, with her legs hanging onto the bed with all their might. “Ow, ow,” she mutters under her breath. He quickly moves to her side, lifting her slightly by the waist with one of her arms over his shoulders.

“Slowly,” He mumbles under his breath. She rests herself back on the bed, now her eyes fluttering open. “Who-”

He takes a few steps back, “I’m Aesop Carl. Ms. Woods has asked me to deliver your food to your room, as you requested.”

“Give me,” Her hoarse voice speaks, sleepiness still lingers. He tilts his head to the side while she flimsily points at the tray. “Food.”

Quick on his toes, Aesop removes most of the bottles on the side of her table and replace them with the food tray. She swiftly grabs the bottle, chugging it down, but quickly frowned. “Water in an empty wine bottle? This Emma’s idea?” She never looks nor glances at him, assured of the answer. He stands there, still. “Well, I am hungry so don’t mind if I do.”

Demi munches down on the cookies first, all in big bites almost she is swallowing them whole. Between bites, she finally looks at Aesop. After swallowing them, “So, you here to help me, right?”

“Assisting you,” Aesop corrects her. “In recovering your memories, yes.”

She shifts her gaze slightly to behind him. “Emma’s not with you?”

“She’s asked me to be here in her stead. She’s told me all that I need.”

Demi snickers, “Oh, all that you need, hm?” She says mockingly, then continues to bite on the cookies. She takes another chug of the water.

“Then shall we begin-”

“I’m tired. Leave me be.”

Aesop simply stares at her, unable to form the right words at her nonchalant respond. But he persists still, as it is his duty there after all. “Ms. Bourbon, we need to recover your memories or else-“

“Or else what?” She cuts him off again. This time taking big bites of the food Naib’s prepared. “That I’ll be trapped here for the rest of my life? That I’ll die?”

He’s silent for a while, but still, maintain an unwavering posture and gaze on her. She slouches over the plate, taking less messy bites of the food. Looking down at it with fluttering eyes, her hair’s tangled up. When Demi looks at Aesop, there is a disdain in them. Full of distrust and frustration, something that he’s familiar with.

“Need to recover memories,” Demi repeats his words bitterly. “What if I don’t want to, hm? What are you gonna say to that?”

Nothing, he wanted to say. Nothing, if he's being honest.. Is there truly a need to recover them? What if you don’t want to remember things? Then what? But he couldn’t say it. Not to anyone, especially to guests who rely on them to move on. He wouldn’t do that.

So he doesn’t say anything.

“Leave me be.” Another pop of a bottle, “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

Demi dismisses him without looking.

It takes a while for him to finally make his move. He wants to say something, but the words never arrive in his mouth. There's no use to confront her in this state, he tells himself. So he leaves the room, leaving Demi alone in her disheveled state and a bottle in one hand.

“What is it with people and asking for jobs here? You’re not even getting paid!” Vera’s exclaims loudly, voice echoing through the bar causing a couple of eyes to turn towards them. “Enjoy your barely living state! Relax! You humans can’t avoid capitalism even in death, it’s tragic.”

The remark’s meant to be out of concern, but rather it’s laced with pity. Eli doesn’t blame her, really. The exchange didn’t go quite so well, as he expected, but now he doesn’t have much to do but dig through on his own. At the very least, now he can stop his attempt to find Norton. Oddly enough, still nowhere to be found. Just how big can this place hide a man. Wrong question to ask, really. Considering, he'd gotten lost several times his first day here. Relax, she says. Funny enough, that’s the last thing he’s able to do here. Such a grand place of this size intimidates him. The chandelier that towers over him, the empty rooms, and hallways. It’s even much more terrifying with this state.

He makes his way back to his room. Slow steps this time, fatigued after spending an entire day of searching up and down through the hotel. What a mystery. Eli hasn’t been successful in his search, not even once he’s able to find him. Not even a glimpse of Norton anywhere. How can someone just vanish like that? He’s quite certain he’d be somewhere in this house. Perhaps he should’ve asked Vera where Norton might be. However, all for naught.

The walk through the hallway is quite daunting. Sometimes, he feels as if the length of the halls had been stretched. Like a never-ending maze that he must overcome. The lengthy red-carpeted floor taunts at him, like a stretching bloody river. He walks and walks, faster with each step.

He can feel his own footsteps. The bottom of his shoe pressed against the carpeted floor. But he can’t shake the feeling of a presence. Someone else’s steps that are slightly offbeat from his. Is there someone following him? He quickens his pace a little. Now the sound is more audible. Footsteps following right behind him. Eli’s heart beats faster and faster. He turns around.

Nothing. Was it just in his head? He could’ve sworn someone, or something was following him. The feeling of someone staring at the back of your neck. Maybe he’s more tired than he thought.

“Should sleep,” He mumbles to himself approaching his door. At the swing of the door, a ring echoes through his room. A telephone rings. There was a telephone in his room? Since when? How come he never noticed it before?

Eli enters his room, closing his door shut, and follows where the sound comes from. And there it is. A telephone vibrating against the side table beside his own bed. There’s never been a phone there. Never. Now there is. He still can’t shake the feeling of another presence nearby. His nerves are scattered, but he tries to maintain a calm demeanor. The phone continues to ring and ring itself into his head.

He tightens his fist, easing the trembles before picking up the phone. It picks up with a click, then he says, “Hello? Who’s this?“

Heavy breathing greets his ear. ‘You,’ A hoarse voice speaks from the phone.

This voice. The air grows too thick for him to breathe, the rapid heartbeat in his chest pounds against his chest. Eli can feel himself starts to lose himself.

‘I’m sure you understand why I’m making this call,’ The person continues, ‘You should know better than to continue the route you’re going. He won’t be going with you. Do you think I haven’t noticed what the two of you have been up to? I know him more than anyone. I know what’s best for him, that is not you. Aesop will stay. Forget about him if you know what’s best for the two of you.’

What have we been up to? What’s best for him? He wants to ask, but no words come out of his mouth.

‘Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten about you, Eli Clark.’

A sudden pound strikes Eli’s head. He winces, one hand holding against his head while he falls onto his knees. A memory trigger. He crouches, curling his bed as if to protect himself from the pain he was feeling. His fingers tighten around his hair, clenching it as the voice continues to speak through the phone. It hurts, it really hurts, it--

--is soft. Both of Aesop’s hands take hold of his face, with his glimmering eyes sinking into his blue ones. They’re surrounded by glowing, yellow roses. Eli’s hands rest on top of Aesop’s and the man in front of him smiles. A smile so wide, so beautiful. Eli presses his lips against Aesop’s in a deep kiss. He presses further, deepens it while Aesop’s fingers tangle themselves in his hair. Pulling on it. Now, his own hands wander down Aesop’s back, gently caressing his exposed back while his lips travel down to his neck.

He hears a soft gasp. A sound that he yearns for more. So, he bites, earning another reaction from Aesop. He can feel his hot breath against Eli’s ear. He can feel the warmth. Aesop whispers, “I love you. I love you so much, Eli.”

“I’ll go with you,” Aesop tells him. Despite his shaking hands, there is a determination clearly written across his face.

“We’ll go as far as we can. You don’t have to be afraid.” Eli tells him. His mouth moving, speaking words as if it’s beyond his control. “He won’t get to us. We’re in this together, okay? If you’re in trouble, call me and I’ll be by your side in a heartbeat.”

Eli gasps, bringing his consciousness back out. The phone shuts. Click.

He needs to find Aesop.

Aesop makes his return to his room after he was at was the guest’s room. A little later than usual. The hotel’s quieter if it’s possible to get quieter than this. He shuts the door of his room, locking it with a click.

Just as he begins to undress, he felt something. In the inner pockets of his blazer. Aesop’s fingers pressed against the surface of his inner pocket, and he can hear a rustling. The sound of paper. Carefully, he reaches into the pocket and pulls out a… letter.

The letter’s blank. It leaves no trace of anything to identify the sender. Who could’ve possibly slipped this into his pocket without him noticing? All of a sudden, his shoulders become tense as his eyes wander around the room.

Has it always been there? Did someone slip a letter into his jacket?

Frantically, he tugs on the window’s lock. His doors. Opening closets, even drawers, rubbing his hands over shelves. Finding any possible entrance that would have led someone into his room without him noticing.

And, he finds nothing.

There’s a dreadful sense of curiosity rising within him. There’s no harm in reading a letter, right? His fingers trace over the opening cracks of the letter. He lets out a deep breath and rips it open.

He pulls out the piece of paper tucked inside the envelope. It reads…

My love,

His heart stops.

I’ll be there soon. I promise I’ll come for you. I’m sorry that I have to send letters like this. It seems that he’s caught onto us, but don’t worry, we’ll be out of here before he gets to us. I wish you could’ve stayed with me. I’m so afraid that one day I’ll never be able to see you again, especially knowing what he’s done to you. I know you hate it when I bring this up, I’m sorry for making you angry the other night.

Meet me where the yellow roses grow. Same time.

Please be careful.  

I love you.

E.C

My love. The same initials. He’s caught onto us. The very thing he tries very hard to avoid comes back to taunt at him. This letter unlocks new memories. Aesop remembers now that he was trying to run away, but from who? And why? Another pain strikes his head like a bang. As if a wooden bat struck on his head with a hard swing. He winces, groaning loudly before falling on his knees and--

--his heart’s beating fast seeing the words on the letter. He’s caught onto them, as it says on the paper. He’s been careful so far, how could he possibly figure it out? Aesop’s grip on the letter tightens, gripping hard causing it to crumble slightly. He pleads silently that nothing would come to harm his lover.

He reaches to his neck, looking down at the ring hanging on the chains. Their names carved onto the surface. AEC. They’d be together, no matter what.

He looks down at the lifeless body of a client before him. A pale body spread across the metal bed, covered in a thin white sheet. He fears for the worst, and he can’t brush it off of his mind.

The metal doors to his office swings open. A loud slam. A shadow of the figure appears on the ground, in the shape of a silhouette. His sense of fear begins to overwhelm his senses when the figure approaches. Each step echo through the room, like the sound of impending doom making itself known. And he knows. He’s more than aware.

Aesop wakes up coughing out the sudden tightness that has put him on hold. The split in his head is unbearable. A distinct feeling of his head being patched together as if things are beginning to make sense. In the most painful way possible. Another memory.

He needs to find Eli.

[one-piece-dumpster-fire]

Thank you for answer me so well and again for that drawing !! (ﾉ*0*)ﾉ So know I see, I wanna ask finally! NSFW headcanons of Drake, Apoo and Hawkins (do what you want👌) with a s/o male! Good luck too with all the work !! ❤️

FINALLY managed to finish this, I really hope this is what you wanted and that you like it 💜 💜 💜

And as always, warning for FILTH under the cut~

Dirty headcanon with a male!s/o

X Drake

it may not come as a suprise, but being with a male partner actually boosts his confidence level enormously. and he isn’t gonna pass out from seeing you naked either!

mainly because you and him are… pretty much the same, speaking from a physical aspect. So when his eyes roam over your body the blush on his cheek is actually symbolizing desire and admiration rather than embarrassment and shame

Drake likes to claim that he is ‘a power top’ who wouldn’t ever consider himself to be on the bottom. He is quite the dominant partner, and the idea of being submissive does not sit well with him (but that doesn’t mean that it’s impossible to convince him otherwise *wink wink)

while he is indeed a bit more careful with female partners during the whole foreplay aspect, he does not mind getting rough with you. After all, you’re more like him so you could probably take more teasing and action, right?

now, he is… not very good at sucking dick. At all. Drake has a rather easily triggered gag-reflex, so sexy times might easily turn into puky times if he takes you in a little… too deep

…but as far as getting sucked goes, he is ecstasic. Drake’s a man who loves to watch you get your knees dirty, and is not afraid of slipping you a teasing comment every now and then when you get up and he sees your now deeper colored shin. Beautiful.

but have I mentioned how vital it is to have a few bottles of lube ready for when he decides to 'go in’? Because when he reached that point of no return and no holding back then you better believe it’ll be just that- Dinoman is going to shove himself into you so quick you won’t even noticed. So unless you’re into pain, make sure you’re proper oiled!

from a viewer’s perspective, sex with Drake looks… a little weird. Because his large body is mostly covering yours, basically pressing you into the matress, while he keeps on pounding like there is no tomorrow. Sometimes it might even look like he is fucking a sex doll because you CAN’T REALLY MOVE UNDERNEATH HIM

his orgasms are always quite intense and, well, massive. Good if you like creampieng but if you don’t then I’d suggest you tell him to pull out a little bit earlier

on rare occasions he might even remain buried inside of you after sex and just… fall asleep like that. There is something about remaining one with you that gives him a feeling of serenity. If you’re okay with it, that is!

Apoo

regardless if you’re a man, a woman, or something else- Apoo is and will always be a little shit huge tease in bed and that never changes

preparations and foreplay are far more important to him than the real thing (aka going inside). In fact, he can very well enjoy a steamy session that doesn’t include any sort of direct ‘intercourse’!

a thing he likes quite much before any touching and making out begins though is a good ol’ stripshow put on by you. Make sure to be sultry and seductive! Get him going! ….he’ll play his body parts for you to add the right ‘mood music’ too!

and once naked, we move on to his next absolute favorite thing ever:  

who’s dick is bigger competitions. Every. Time. Does the size of your cock change? No. So does he need to check everytime? Also no. But is it fun? To Apoo, yes

and yes, occasionaly he also seems to be the kind of guy that loves to engage in some pre-intercourse 'swordfighting’ if you know what I mean (we’re talking the more silly, less sexual variant. Like literally hitting your dick with his. It makes funny sounds. APPRECIATE IT.)

he’s a real master when it comes to giving oral, but of course not without making a dumb comment: „I’ll play you like a flute, apapapa!“, „Time for me to blow your little blowpipe!“ (it’s quite embarrassing, really…)

and he uses his teeth too while going down, mostly because the sounds it makes when he touches your cock with his piano teeth are HILARIOUS, it’s like your own little song

on the other hand, when it comes to receiving oral- he’s a bit picky. And sometimes even a bit of a critic, since he does not appreciate the feeling of not being in control and you doing with his dick as you please

I hope you have some stamina in you because Apoo can and will go for multiple rounds. Sometimes this might even lead to you or him being overstimulated and growing extremely sensitive, but then again that is a new kind of excitement he also thoroughly enjoys

once everything is finished though Apoo will almost always cling to you afterwards, his arms entrapping you like a prison made out of…. well, very long and lanky arms

Hawkins

secretly(?) the kinkiest out of all three

…and an absolute master of the art of 'hidden’ teasing. He knows exactly what he’s doing to get you turned on, even if it may not seem so!

like his foot suddenly rubbing against your crotch? Uhm no he has no memory of that didn’t you see him read a book? That must have been an accident or maybe your mind is simply toying with you again…

it’s almost somewhat funny how Hawkins always claims that he never initiates sexy times and that you are the horny one, when it’s actually the other way around but never say that to him or he will give you the silent treatment for a few days as revenge

as far as foreplay goes, he tends to be rather lazy and often acts as if you’re asking the impossible of him. Hawkins sometimes pretends to be quite the diva, but the main reason for that is because he knows that it will get you going

also this man occasionally wears lingerie and loves to hint at it without immediately showing you, which serves as another way for him to tease you

one thing important to note is that Hawkins can be really into BDSM depending on his mood- in fact there are days where he’ll refuse to get it on unless you pull out the cuffs, and then there are some where he can easily do without it

however if there is ever one thing he is not willing to do, then it’s being degrading. He has no problem with playfully looking down on you that’s true, but taking it that far just makes you look absolutely pathetic and causes him to lose any sexual interest and excitement rather quickly. The same goes the other way as well, by the way!

Hawkins also tends to get bored rather easily with repeating the same thing over and over again… how about sprinkling in a little something to spice things up some more? He is definitely open for suggestions…

and although submissive most of the times, there are quite many occasions where Hawkins is not afraid of taking over the reigns and actually being a top. The magician considers himself a 'switch’ who will not do the same old thing two nights in a row, so versatility in the bedroom is a guarantee!

[nottragedies]

The sun sets, casting amber hues all around, reflecting off the water a few feet away. The sand is still warm as JT's toes press down. The almost end to another day.

It's something of a ritual, now, striding over to the water at the end of his shift. He drops his bag of belongings to the side with hardly any sound as it hits the soft sand. The sand between his toes goes from warm and dry to cool and wet, the contrast notable for only a moment before he’s pushing forward, water lapping at his ankles, and then his knees, his waist, until finally he lunges, letting himself be entirely submerged.

It's only a moment before he pops his head back to the surface, sucking in a breath, letting the refreshing feeling of the instant cool-off settle in, feeling almost as if it's reaching his bones. It's getting dark, fast, which he doesn't mind. He's got no aversion to the sun, doesn't mind basking in it all day, one of the reasons this temporary job works for him. But at the same time, there's something about the beach at night, as well. When it's quiet, nearly empty, and he's no longer got any responsibilities. This is his time.

Still, when he finally emerges, stepping back to shore, he takes his time, makes a show of the way he swoops his wet hair out of his face only for it fall back down over his eyes, because he knows damn well he's being watched.

He collects his things, pulling his loose tank back on as he steps over to the figure in question, laying out upon a towel atop the sand, still shamelessly gazing. “Beach's closed.” He announces. Not that that actually really stops anybody from enjoying the place after hours, it only really means he's no longer on any sort of duty.

The bait's taken, though, as Levy looks up at JT standing before him, humming coyly in response. “You gonna have to escort me out?”

~

The escort mission lands him in a single room in the middle of a motel that lately he's been becoming awfully familiar with. Even with most of the lights cut, the room still seems to radiate a dull, neon glow, allowing JT a decent view. Levy's under him again, though this time considerably more undressed, taking sharp whiny breaths while JT's got one hand wrapped around the others dick, the other hand digging around for a rubber.

Somewhere beside him JT barely hears the faint sound of a click over Levy's increasing (and admittedly, a bit of his own) breathing, followed by a sudden stream of light flowing into the room. “Someone's upset that you're not answering any messages.”

In JT's arousal clouded and semi dazed mind, considers the statement to be for him, and instead of piecing together the logic of how that would be, it takes the easy way to fill in gaps on his own. It's probably Jaeger. first, followed shortly after by If he's making a fuss it must be urgent. His mind has already moved onto trying to remember where his phone may have landed within the few seconds it takes for the body below to grunt. “Well, I'm a bit busy.”

Ah. JT realizes that that does make more sense. That pieces together almost as naturally as Levy naturally responds to his brother walking in with this proclamation in the middle of what they are doing.

“Ooooh~ Well, in that case.” Lambert sing-songs as he approaches, bed dipping a bit under the sudden added weight of Lambert appearing directly next to JT. “Hi there~”

“Hi.” JT greets, and that's all either of them have time for before their mouths are together. There's no pretense there, either, tongue and teeth all coming out to play nearly instantly. After some time that JT can't be bothered to calculate, fingers are digging into his side, and the whining from below him grows impatient, reminding.

It had seemed a little weird the first time, the two-brothers-at-once-thing, but the less mind said brothers paid to it (which was like, pretty much not at all.) the less JT felt like he needed to, either. Sometimes, the sprinkle of taboo even just gave it that little extra thrill.

He definitely didn't have room to ever bring up Jaeger's cousin fucking again, that was for sure.

~

He does manage to locate his phone, swiping it to life as he settles into the middle of the bed. He does have missed messages from Jaeger, but they're not particularly urgent, on par with the usual things JT receives when his new friend is busy with his girlfriend, or his other girlfriend, or either of his girlfriends and any of their sisters.

But JT likes hearing them. It's quickly become something of a habit, on the days like today where they're both off doing their own for thing, for him to make a point to do exactly what he's doing now, catching up on anything he may have missed, responding accordingly, and more often than not, he'll even find himself putting it out there when he's going to bed, or just catches himself dozing off. Essentially sending 'goodnight texts', he muses as he presses send on the one he's just finished typing.

~

The next morning he still finds himself between the two of them, even after they'd all left the room and JT had assumed they'd be parting ways at least for now, but well, he doesn't quite have it in him to turn down breakfast, right now.

Even if you strip away the entire layer of 'We're brother's who like to bring boys home to each other.' underneath it you'll still find layers of 'They're kind of weird.' that stand on their own. They shamelessly flirt, cooing and touching in a way that ought to seem overly intimate and uncomfortable while at the same time sometimes coming across blatantly disingenuous. Say things that sometimes seem so off the wall, or baffingly forward. He can't quite figure out what their deal is, not sure if anybody could. He can tell they are the kind of guys that would get under a lot of people's skin.

A part of JT gets kind of a kick out of it, though. He can see how it may quickly get old once the novelty wears off, sure, but for now, it's pretty fun to play along. Small doses are probably the key to that, though. So when Levy hand-feeds him the last bit of bacon, JT catches Levy's fingers in his teeth, nipping lightly enough to match the other's playfulness, then adds; “I gotta go.”

Both the brothers immediately emit a harmonized awwww, but JT's already up and moving. As he walks, he brings two fingers to his lips, kissing them with a flick, blowing a kiss and throwing up deuces simultaneously, and then he's out.

As he turns out of the restaurant, he catches sight of someone instantly familiar. As they pass each other, the skinny, pretty, blonde, chrome pastel princess casts a glance at him, her intensely dark eyebrows to match her equally intensely dark eyes (a stark contrast to every single other part of her aesthetic) narrow just slightly, clearly trying to figure out if she recognizes him, too.

No, you don't. JT continues walking past her, never breaking his stride and as if he never even saw her. I don't recognize you, so why would you recognize me? He keeps her in his peripheral, watches her hesitate for only a second before it seems to do the trick, and she continues on her own way, into the restaurant he just left.

With that a success, that ought to be it. Nothing more to it than to maybe text Jaeger and let him in on the close call, when he hears a Disney Princess like voice say 'Oh there you are.' Right before the door closes.

Curiosity gets him. It'd probably be smarter to let it go, but well. Instead, JT peaks back in through the door, just long enough to see Faberge seating herself at the table JT just left, across from the two boys he had just been in the middle of.

The GBFs, he pieces together. Oh, shit. Immediately he has his phone out, typing 'dude you won't believe' when he stops, thumbs hovering.

He's absolutely going to tell Jaeger. It wouldn't feel right to not, not with what it seems like Jaeger already goes through. But maybe he should do it in person. Tell the story, have that 'how wild, right?' moment, assure that JT's got this, because he does, and move on. He backspaces his text, typing out a new one. Faberge's already here with the boys, and it's still fairly early for a mid-summer day, so maybe Esmara hasn't gotten to him yet.

Maybe they'll get lucky, and JT can have him for the day.

[embrues]

*snoop dog vc* greetings loved ones let’s take another journey.. if you like insomniac boys with shitty pasts who don’t give a good goddamn who GOT that juicy redemption ark then do i have a deal for you ! for one easy payment of a fruit roll-up, you too could have this aforementioned fella !  ( there are absolutely no refunds bc i eat the payment immediately sorry )

☾*✧･ﾟ:*「 lee hoseok ( wonho ). transmale. he/him. 」did you know that there’s a human in seoul named hyun jitae? they have been here for their entire life and they are an officer. they are currently twenty-five and is not a part of the ju jak and does know about the magi. i heard that they are known to be pugnacious, but worry not ! i heard they are also very stalwart too. remember to stay out of trouble, the magi are lurking around every corner ! ( markus, nineteen, he/him, cst. )

tw for transphobia, abuse, in general just some awful parenting, violence and death.

so, let’s start from the beginning, where all full stories rightfully have to. born to a hunter and housewife, he was the third of three children and was the first girl of the family.  his innocence could only last so long with the corruption in his bloodlines, an ancestry of hunters stretching many years through the hyun family and long standing supporters of the ju jak cause. it was a poison that was passed down to each generation when they matured and he would be no different.

his parents had been fairly lax, bringing his twin brothers up, two years his senior, but they toughened up when he was born. jitae was expected to be their picture-perfect child, ideally one who would marry into another family of hunters to keep the lineage going, seek out magi and do as he was told. from a young age, a gender divide was very much enforced upon him ; he was told that pink was for girls, blue was for boys and all the other ridiculous stereotypes. he wasn’t allowed to play with his brothers’ toys, even though he clearly had a much higher interest in them. they insisted on having him wear skirts, even though all he really wanted to do was steal his brothers’ shirts.

his father was always far too busy to be emotionally involved with anything he was up to, his mother, though she held the same ideals as his father did, was much more encouraging – even when he seemed to only want to throw mud outside with his brothers or spend his time sat quietly maneuvering small bugs around his hands. life seemed easier then, and if you ever were to ask he’d like to come back to here, the fragile and comfortable age of five.

at nine, he officially ditches his full name and takes on the shorter, snappier shortening of it, blatantly ignoring anything else. he also ditches a lot that was forced onto him, and begins to slowly tarnish the image that has been built around him – the first step in that is cutting off long, brilliant locks with a pair of safety scissors. ( he’s grounded for a solid month for that particular endeavor after a rather long beating, but they at least take him to a barber to clean up the botched job. )

up until he was about thirteen, the veil over his eyes remained. he’d always been warned to not get to curious what his father got up to in the late hours of the night, or why his brothers always went with him. up until then – and then shit starts to hit the fan when he is thrown head first into long training sessions. he finds comfort in ripped jeans and stolen shirts, cardigans and hoodies have become his safety net. at least, he surmises, he has this one thing that he could have for his own. ( even that was something borrowed, snagged from his brothers’ closets. )  his mother seems to catch on, discreetly leaves recently bought t-shirts sprinkled within his wardrobe. he dyes his hair blonde for a few months, not without strong opposition, before returning to his natural black – he’s experimenting, more than anything else, wants to smash as many of the buttons set in front of him as possible and come into his own instead of the mold he was crammed into. teacher often being an older cousin, or his elder brothers the days his father will allow, endurance and agility training quickly become his daily after-school activity. knives and hand-to-hand combat were his favorite though, each unfortunate mistake earned him a new nick or a bloodied lip when he wasn’t quite fast enough. wasn’t quite good enough. ( even though he resented his father, he wanted him to be proud. )

at fifteen, he starts sneaking out with his elder brothers whenever they can manage. instead of paying attention to their father’s long lectures on preparation and being adaptable, the three sit outside and complain together. his brothers smoke cheap cigarettes that they buy with their minimum wage ; he steals a drag here and there, and makes his brothers swear not to tell. ( he doesn’t really care if they do, though. maybe hopes that they did. )  gets much too competitive during short spars and more than satisfied when he can manage to beat any of his older relatives.

seventeen brings a new form of rebellion, but most notably confusion about his identity. his brothers wholeheartedly accept his requests to refer to him by jitae but his father remained adamant and bigoted in his ways. outbursts aimed at him became frequent, to be dubbed unfit for the family had brought more than feelings of rage within jitae but snapped something he didn’t know he had. halfway through that seventeenth year, he’s arrested for defacing of property. ( he may or may not have painted profanity in bold red letters on some unsuspecting victim’s vehicle. ) in homage to his first arrest, many long summer days spent doing community service.

at eighteen, it seems as if all the world’s anger has seeped into his body. where mischief and joy once lingered, pure hatred for the situation around him blackens his entire being. he starts getting into fistfights, and comes home ( more often than not ) at three in the morning. if his parents wanted to disown him before, they’re on the verge of it now ; they can’t stand who he has become, and it all comes to a very ugly head when he brings a girl home and his parents find out.

everything seems to click into place, somehow working in his favor that makes even his nihilism fall silent. his father gives up the prospect of the short fuse having any use as a hunter, and that’s his chance and he takes it. flees their family home with well wishes from his older brothers who offer him a hand, an out. he politely declined, his pride always more prominent that the two combined. he lives in something like peace, it’s quiet and almost maddeningly so but he maybe can equate that to comfort. eventually manages to get access to hormone therapy, taking up a job as a cashier for some local understaffed business that was understaffed. he manages, daily phone calls to his concerned mother who’s always sure to tell him that his father still does love him. ( fat chance, he’d always butt in before she can finish the phrase. )  

easing into a monotonous pattern of life comes with great difficulty but he does manage, heads to the gym near religiously everyday to work away any stresses. learning to loosen when strangers smile at him, even smiles back some days. things were fine, a little rough but fine. he’s on the cusp of twenty-four when he gets the call from his hysteric mother, his father has been killed. things.. things change then. he heads back home because he cannot abandon his mother there and leave grief to eat away at her. ( like slipping on an old glove- it fits perfectly yet it was unfamiliar. he thinks maybe this is how life truly spits in his face. ) what comes next can only be described as a domino effect.

he takes up the torch, when he knows he shouldn’t and even with the reasoning voices of his brothers. he had fallen back into the cavern he worked so hard to crawl out of, a stout pillar of the ju jak standard all over again. he is certain he doesn’t have the strength to make the climb up a second time. he keeps a pistol holstered to his thigh, a trained eye on everyone around him. heavy circles are a stain under his eyes, the scars that litter the canvas of his body remind of a past almost escaped. ( something screams that this is what he was made for, BORN FOR. NOW HERE’S THE KICKER ; he knows that once he slips, he will not rise & will only greet depravity like an old friend. )

but he doesn’t. with the reappearance of a certain elder hyun, the decision to drop his role as a hunter, fall from the ju jak emerges and it doesn’t take much deliberation on his part. he leaves, abandons the cause and everything he once stood for. (  thought he stood for; CONVINCED himself he stood for. )  joins the police to stand alongside his older brother.

personality-wise ? he’s STILL an absolute shit most of the time, pretty abrasive. y’know, rubs just about everyone and their grandmother the wrong way. he’s aggressively opinionated and he’ll break your goddamn nose if you try to pull any shit on him or his loved ones.

curses like an absolute sailor.. every other word is likely a swear. 

feel free to slide on up into my ims or hit me up on discord for plots ( you might have to give me yours since i don’t think.. you cAN ADD MINE SINCE I DON’T ACTUALLY HAVE A NAME OK IT’S A WHOLE THING )

[uterusclub]

Party planning had been premeditated a few weeks prior which, per usual, escalated from one idea to a wonderful thread of several, awesome ones! This was going to be a hit out of the park! We initiated our weekend with a scheduled meeting at The Hyatt Regency at McCormick Center courtesy of a free night-stay voucher bestowed upon us by the always generous, Wika Shorty G. As I was already pre-committed to subbing at Cheetah gym beforehand, Sharon took her leisure getting ready at home whilst I donkey-trekked my overstuffed backpack to the likes of Andersonville for some cardio pre-party. Post class, I jumped aboard my Uber with a very friend Indian driver who immediately launched into his life story and offered me some Bollywood-esk tunes for my journey. Shit was good. Shazammed a bunch of it. But this ride was LONG. That’s what you get for rush-hour Fridays though, I suppose. In any case, either HE grew tired of the Bollywood or thought I had as he eventually changed the musical accompaniment to his favorite American tunes which involved some car-karaoked Backstreet Boys. My route concluded with Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On at which point, we neared the Hyatt Regency which was chaos-packed with vehicles as well as tuxedo’d gentlemen and fancy-dressed ladies. What in the fuck? I was well aware the Chicago Auto Show was happening (by no means of my own) but what did fanciness have to do with that? We came to later learn of the First Look for Charity which costs a whopping $300 per ticket. So basically, rich people is the answer. And we are not as such. In fact, I was, dare I say looking quite derelict post-workout class by the time I arrived at this very classy joint. Which, might I also add, is confusing as all living hell. I had to actually call Sharon and summon her to appear in order to figure out just where the hell to go. So she met me in some lobby portion looking equally derelict-y and we made our way back to our hotel room where we noshed on pre-ordered Indiana food while watching a re-run episode of Ghost Adventures.

Indian in belly, we did our utmost to glamor up before grabbing an Uber and making our way to the Museum of Science and Industry! Mission: Silent Disco! So I’d heard of this concept for quite some time and thought it very intriguing. Wasn’t exactly sure what to expect but I was NOT disappointed. Upon descending an accouplement of stairs, grabbing our drink tickets and dropping off our coats, we ascended to an exhibit hall lightly sprinkled with people. Handed our headphones, we observed three DJS set up in opposition and liquor tables arranged in the center. We took a few moments to scour the scene and get a little ‘groove’ on before turning in our ticket for some liquid courage. It was, of course, at this point, we realized we couldn’t leave the area with drink in hand so we chugged as quickly as we could to peruse the open exhibits around us. Exploring the museum was much more enjoyable jetting back and forth between house music and a bunch of random 70’s tunes. I could do this forever. I could live here under these ground rules. In any case, in hour into our endeavor, we were over it (as we are oft to do) and scheduled an Uber.

Back at the hotel, we de-make-up-ified (although my hair glitter refused to completely vacate the premises), changed into PJ’s and partook in the absolute splendor that is Forensic Files. It was not until the next morning that we came to realize the magnanimous-ness that is the Hyatt’s most wondrous beds! Holy awesome sleep! I’m fairly sure I didn’t move from my original sleeping position which is quite unheard of. Well rested, we woke up entirely too early (as per usual) and made some in-room coffee. Following that and upon packing up our gear, we headed out to catch Uber.

Congress Hotel, here we come! Upon arriving at the hotel, MAN, this place was GORGEOUS! Not to mention, TIMELY! The old school decor and feel brought me back to my last viewing of The Shining. Creep? Perhaps. But mostly gorgeous and almost homey (gotta be that ‘old soul’ thing). We stayed just long enough to meet the bell-hop to drop off our bags before heading out immediately to catch the 29 bus towards Navy Pier. Time for Cider Fest!! One uneventful bus ride later, we were at the very over-rated Navy Pier. As much as we despise this place, we always end up back here. Go figure. Per usual, their ‘events’ are always held at the exhibit halls at the farthest end of the strip. So basically, it’s a hike. Fortunately, the way there is ALWAYS much easier than the inebriated way back.

Once we reached the exhibit hall, we were at a stand-still for a short period of time. The line looked a lot longer than it was, in actuality. In fact, we ended up entering the exhibit much earlier than anticipated. After grabbing our sample ‘glasses’ and tickets, we met with some awesome friends of ours and made our way upstairs to the less congested area and began our ventures. Let me just say now, it is SO easy getting crunk here and it’s absolutely the best! I couldn’t love cider people more if you paid me. Okay, perhaps I could. But seriously, everyone was so delightful and polite. We had some absolutely OUTSTANDING ciders and of course, some that made you wanna die a little (I blame myself for my lure to the higher percentages). All in all though, no real complaints. An hour and a halfish later, Sharon and I were STARVING. We headed out, quite impressively now that I look back at it and actually WALKED all the way to our next scheduled stop-off, The Public House. Mission: Alcohol milkshake.

So back-story on this. This place concocts themed alcoholic milkshakes every month and they always look super adorable but generally taste like absolute garbage. I think we mostly go there for picture taking purposes. In any case, last time we came here the themed milkshake was ‘sold out’ and it completely broke out hearts. So like complete over-planning nerds, we made sure to call ahead and not waste our goddamn, drunken time. Fortunately, all was well and we got to dabble in their Valentine’s Day themed Rose milkshake which was actually pretty decent tasting (not so much the cake portion or the accompanying cookies but the actual shake was dece). Capping that off, we grabbed another Uber to bring us back to the Congress in order to change and get ready for the ‘evening’s’ fancy, birthday dinner. Side note: during the process of getting our bags from the bell-hop, Jose, we mentioned our ghost-hunting ambitions and after relaying we were staying in room 612, were advised that room 610 had had numerous complaints of arguing being heard in the room at night. I think we were both leery on believing this guy but we were still both hopeful. In fact, I theorized he might possibly be a ghost himself! Especially when we later came to discover there WAS no room 610! After later accusing Jose in the elevator about it, he very nonchalantly replied, ‘Oh, well, it could have been room 612.’ Hmmmmm . . . .

Putting on make-up for the 2nd day in a roll was rough for the both of us but somehow we managed. Heading out, we caught another Uber to take us to the Tortoise Supper Club which, ironically, happened to be literally across the street from The Public House (go figure). While waiting to be seated, we met with some friends and were seated immediately. Good conversation and food was had with of course, more booze. We ended up catching a ride back to our hotel and immediately stripped down and back into PJ’s for the remaining night’s activity: ghost hunting!

Keep in mind, we’re not new to this ghost investigating in our PJ’s thing. Been there, done that – we have no shame. In fact, we actually headed downstairs to the lobby to grab a drink to kick-start our adventure. There, we met bartender, Kevin, whom I immediately questioned, with drink in hand, about his experiences at the hotel. He explained how he’d observed a glass combust out of nowhere and referred us to a woman named, Michelle, who could take us around the hotel. Eventually, he disappeared for a bit and Michelle appeared to be our ‘tour guide.’ She was an absolute blast! Funny, no-holds-bar, type attitude. She ended up taking us to the Gold Room banquet hall where a Peg Leg man was theorized to appear. We mentioned wanting to hit the south tower as I had previously researched it was allegedly the most ‘active’ area to investigate. We headed up to the 12th floor at which time Michelle continue to give us back-story on some of the apparitions believed to be haunting the hotel. She even mentioned how someone had fallen over the stair railing back on NYE and had plummet to the 9th but still managed to survive (though all sorts of fucked up as a result, naturally). At one point, I brought up room 441 which, I had read, was supposedly the most haunted room with a female apparition that would kick the bed while people slept. Michelle was familiar with this story and admitted she hadn’t even been on that floor. She also advised that the entire south tower was technically ‘closed’ since business was slow. As such, we were roaming dark hallways in silence and it was absolutely GLORIOUS! After reaching room 441, we hung out for a bit. Sharon and I used our recording device to do a session. While asking questions and awaiting replies, Michelle would hilarious butt in with whispered responses and at one point, ‘boo’ed the crap out of us! She laughed, we laughed but we were also partially annoyed. It was at this point we realized, nothing was seriously going to get done with her. So we headed back downstairs to the bar and grabbed us a few Moscato’s which Michelle gave us on the house (I think she seriously felt bad about scaring us). Ironically, as we sat and drank, a plethora of people were abound now in the bar. A young man to our right sparked some conversation and we ended up finding out he was on a stop-off for a ghost-tour. Sweet! After speaking with him very briefly, I attempted to ‘overhear’ information from the tour guide but between the bar noise and my own inebriation, it was pretty pointless so I gave us pretty much immediately.

Upon the additional intoxication, we made our way back up to the south tower and the 12th floor and made our way down, ghost hunting gear in hand. We, of course, stopped off at room 441 once again and loitered for quite some time but to our grave disappointment, experienced no phenomenon. To much chagrin, we took our down-trodden selves back to our hotel room at which point, I looked over my photos from the night’s activities for potential orbs and Sharon played back our audio until we were basically fell asleep. We conked out fairly quickly that night with much discomfort (those beds are god awful) and again, headed out relatively early in the morning to trek to the blue line and to the much beloved and abhorred, monkey (Bear) at home.

Sunday was a mixed day of catching up on terribly awesome tv shows and Sharon ‘wasting’ (in my opinion) her birthday cooking short-ribs for dinner (seriously, who cooks on their own birthday?)! Presents were opened and much contentment to the joy of being back at home were indulged. The evening was concluded with the inevitable dread of the incoming Monday which we could only DREAM of ghosting.

Boo-gy and Boo-ze Birthday Party planning had been premeditated a few weeks prior which, per usual, escalated from one idea to a wonderful thread of several, awesome ones!