#haunted places in australia

[queenofallwitches]

REBELLION RISING ON THE RISE: 2009-2018

THE FRANCE AND IRISH LINK TO THE REBELLION:

THE PARANORMAL HOTSPOT IN ROUSE HILL REGIONAL PARK

THE REAL CENTER OF THE CIVIL WAR OF THE REBELLION OF VINEGAR HILL PART 1:

My hypothesis is there is a link to the slave revolts in Haiti and the Battle of Vinegar ill where the Irish slaves attempted to overthrow their English captors.

This is founded by my initiation into haitian voodoo, 21 divisions creole spiritism which combines with my cereominal magician tradition starting HARDCORE at the same site (the battle site of vinegar hill) back in 2009.

All events were extreme paranormal and unexplained anomalous events, experienced by a friend and I who were yet to be formally initiated into ceremonial magick or vodou.

A magical portal was opened which took me until 2018 to close

many ufo and other supernatural events took place at this site

which can be ascribed to the closest site to the only civil war in Australia has ever witnessed.

My notes on the historical context from 2022

1789

After 1789, some Volunteer units showed their sympathy with the French Revolution by holding parades on 14 July to commemorate the fall of the Bastille. In 1792, Grattan succeeded in carrying an Act conferring the franchise on the Roman Catholics; in 1794, he introduced a reform bill that was even less democratic than Flood’s bill of 1783.

He was as anxious as Flood had been to retain the legislative power in the hands of men of property, for he had a strong conviction that while Ireland could best be governed by Irish hands, democracy in Ireland would inevitably turn to plunder and anarchy. The defeat of Grattan’s mild proposals helped to promote more extreme opinions. However, as soon as the Jacobin regime assumed power in France, radical Patriots became more reluctant to refer to France as a prime example of Catholic political action for the causes of liberty and justice. Nevertheless, one of the main inconsistencies on the Patriot political agenda by calling for increasing powers of the Irish parliament while maintaining the selective as opposed to universal suffrage seemed to have been dissolved.

However, the French Revolution also had a second, contrasting, effect. Conservative loyalists such as John Foster, John Fitzgibbon and John Beresford, however, remained opposed to further concessions to Catholics and, led by the ‘Junta’, argued that the ‘Protestant Interest’ could only be secured by maintaining the connection with Britain. In reactionary circles, it was used to emphasise the point that an open political debate without censorship as well as parliamentary reform could entail a severe blow to their special interests, and could be tantamount to inviting Radicals to overturn the political structure of the country, rather than just appeasing them. In particular, the French Revolution prompted relentless action against the radical wing of the Patriot movement, the United Irishmen that included many former Whigs. It also prevented more moderate Patriots from supporting some radical Patriot activities without reservation, depriving the Patriot movement of solidarity and unity.

1688-91

WILLIAMITE WAR

 

William of Orange - dutch born

William of Orange, the Dutch prince who became King of England, Scotland, and Ireland in the Glorious Revolution of 1688

Defeated catholic "james 2nd" in wiliamite-jacobite war.

Protestant ascendancy

THE DECLATORY ACT OF 1719

Loss of Independence due to the House of British Lords being able to pass laws in Ireland

Restrictions of commerce at the expense of ireland that favoured Britain were tipping this rise to the protestant ascendancy for GREATER freedoms from great britain.

ORANGE ORDER:

The basis of the modern Orange Order is the promotion and propagation of "biblical Protestantism" and the principles of the Reformation. As such the Order only accepts those who confess a belief in a Protestant religion.

As well as Catholics, non-creedal and non-Trinitarian Christians are also banned.

This includes members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints(Mormons), Jehovah's Witnesses, Unitarians, and some branches of Quakers.

Previous rules specifically forbade Roman Catholics and their close relatives from joining

but the current rules use the wording "non-reformed faith" instead. Converts to Protestantism can join by appealing to Grand Lodge.

James Wilson and James Sloan, who issued the warrants for the first Lodges of the Orange Order along with 'Diamond' Dan Winter, were Freemasons,[26] and in the 19th century many Irish Republicans regarded the Orange Order as a front groupestablished by Unionist Masons as a more violent and jingoist vehicle for the promotion of Unionism.[71] Some anti-Masonic evangelical Christian groups have claimed that the Orange Order is still influenced by freemasonry.[72] Many Masonic traditions survive, such as the organisation of the Order into lodges. The Order has a similar system of degrees through which new members advance. These degrees are interactive plays with references to the Bible. There is particular concern over the ritualism of higher degrees such as the Royal Arch Purple and the Royal Black Institutions

1795: the battle of richmond hill

Darug natives defend the land from british invaders

North richmond - pitt town wetlands.

1798

The first battle of vinegar hill

County wicklow

The catholics invasion and claim to the irish land and protestant ascendancy

Act of union 1800- rise to catholic invasion that allowed the mobilisation of the catholic poplation

Uniteed the british parliament and irish parliement in unity, to form a united front

Catholic resentment in leinster

1789

THE AFRO-CARIBBEAN LINK

UNITED IRISH PRISONER

JAMAICA

WEST INDIES

NEW FOUNDLAND

NEW SOUTH WALES

"United Irish" mutinies in Jamaica, Newfoundland and New South Wales

In October 1799 Castlereagh received reports from Jamaica that many (of the 3,200)

United Irish prisoners, "incautiously drafted" into regiments for service in the West Indies, had taken to the hills to fight alongside the Maroons and with the French: "as soon as they got arms into their hands they deserted".

There is no suggestion that this was part of any trans-Atlantic design of the United directory in Dublin or Paris.

The same is true of the "United Irish Uprising in Newfoundland" in April 1800. Two-thirds of the colony's main settlement, St. John's, were Irish, as were most of the island's locally-recruited British garrison. There were reports that upwards of 400 men had taken a United Irish oath, and that eighty were resolved to kill their officers and seize their Protestant governors at Sunday service. As in Jamaica, the mutiny (for which 8 were hanged) may have been less a United Irish plot, than an act of desperation in the face of brutal living conditions and officer tyranny.

Yet the Newfoundland Irish would have been aware of the agitation in the homeland for civil equality and political rights.

There were reports of communication with United men in Ireland from before '98 rebellion;of Thomas Paine's pamphlets circulating in St John's;and, despite the war with France, of hundreds of young Waterford men still making a seasonal migration to the island fisheries, among them defeated rebels who are said to have "added fuel to the fire" of local grievance.

In March 1804, stirred by news of Emmet's rising, several hundred United Irish convicts in New South Wales tried to seize control of the penal colony and to capture ships for a return to Ireland.[204] Poorly armed, and with their leader Philip Cunningham seized under a flag of truce,the main body of insurgents were routed in an encounter loyalists celebrated as the Second Battle of Vinegar Hill.

The 1803 Michael Dwyer, who was a captain of the irish rebellion of 1798, transported to NEW SOUTH WALES 

-1807 x 2 imprisoned and x2 trials for plotting against the british penal rule in NSW

1804

The second battle of vinegar hill

LIBERTY OR DEATH!

‘Death or Liberty’

The 1804 Castle Hill convict rebellion was led by Philip Cunningham of Moyvane, north County Kerry, a government stonemason who was convicted for his involvement in the 1798 Irish rebellion; he was also involved in a mutiny on board the convict transport ship, the Anne. 

He was key figure in the planning of the rebellion, along with his rebel assistants William Johnston and Samuel Humes.[

 Accompanied by over 200 frustrated armed Irish convicts, their aim was to capture ships and sail to Ireland. The rebels gathered at Castle Hill, calling on other convicts to join them.

Their intention was to march from Windsor to Parramatta, and then onto Sydney, gathering recruits along the way to attain a ship to bring them back to Ireland.

The Irish rebels were betrayed by an informer Keogh, who told the authorities of the Irish convicts’ plans.

By 1804, most of the Irish leaders of the previous attempts at rebellion had been imprisoned and moved to outlying areas of the colony such as Norfolk Island. Dispersal had worked well for the authorities but with each new rebellion plan, new Irish leaders rose among the convicts more aware of what not to do next time. The leaders of rebellion on 4 March 1804 were Phillip Cunningham and William Johnston.

Cunningham was a veteran of the 1798 conflict in Ireland and the mutiny of the convict transport ship Anne. From his experiences in Ireland and NSW he understood that secrecy and a non-traceable but effective communication were essential to a successful rebellion.

Cunningham’s emphasis on secrecy was so successful that it was not until the day before the rebellion that the authorities knew of its existence.

On the evening of 3 March, one of the Irish convict overseers turned informant. On Sunday 4 March, the day of the rebellion, two more informants came forward and provided names.

John Griffen was one of the informants and had been relaying a message to the pike-maker Bryan Furey that the rebellion was on for Sunday night.

Since Furey did not get the message the areas of Sydney, Parramatta and Windsor did not rebel.

Castle Hill was the only district that rose in rebellion.

Despite this intelligence, the authorities in Parramatta and Sydney did not act immediately and on 4 March 1804, John Cavenah set fire to his hut in Castle Hill at 8.00 pm. This was the signal for the rebellion to begin.

With Cunningham leading, 200 rebels broke into the Government Farm’s buildings, taking firearms, ammunition and other weapons. Initially, there was mayhem as buildings were ransacked to cries of ‘Death or Liberty’. Two English convicts dragged the Hills District flogger, Robert Duggan from under his bed and George Harrington an English convict beat him unconscious. A constable was saved from a musket ball in the face when the musket of John Brannon misfired.

Another constable was saved in similar circumstances when Jonathon Place’s musket also misfired. Cunningham gathered the rebels and reprimanded them for their lack of disciplined behaviour.

The rebels then went from farm to farm on their way to Constitution Hill at Parramatta gathering firearms, supplies and drinking any liquor they found. The looting of farms gave the rebels over 180 swords, muskets and pistols. In 1804, this was close to one third of the colony’s entire armoury

I do therefore proclaim the Districts of Parramatta, Castle Hill, Toongabbie, Prospect, Seven and Baulkham Hills, Hawkesbury and Nepean to be in a STATE of REBELLION; and to establish Martial Law throughout those Districts…

Cunningham’s plan involved burning the MacArthur property of ‘Elizabeth Farm’ in order to draw the Parramatta garrison out of the town.

Once this was done the rebels in Parramatta would rise up and set fire to the town as a signal. The Castle Hill rebels would gather at Constitution Hill and then raid the barracks for more arms and ammunition.

From there the rebels would march to Windsor and join up with the rebels in the Hawkesbury before marching on Sydney. At dawn on 5 March, rebels were still straggling in to Constitution Hill. Phillip Cunningham and William Johnston were busy drilling the rebels on the hill while they were waiting for the signal from the uprising rebels in Parramatta. The signal never came. Cunningham’s messages to the Parramatta and Windsor rebels had not got through. Cunningham decided that the rebels would head down the Hawkesbury Road to Windsor to meet up with the rebels from the Hawkesbury. Had Cunningham effected this, King maintained it would have increased his force by a further hundred rebels.[10]

Colonial paranoia increased once evidence of planned rebellion became evident after 1800 but how real was the threat from Irish convicts?

The Defenders and United Irishmen transported between 1795 and 1806 provided leadership to those convicts, many Irish but including English transportees, who were prepared to take direct action to overthrow the colonial authorities.

Although it was the Irish convicts who were a particular concern to Hunter, King and Bligh, it is important not to over-exaggerate their significance while under-estimating the involvement of convicts of other nationalities. In addition, the Irish convict leadership had considerable experience in planning and implementing rebellious activities.

This explains why successive governors sent leaders or presumed leaders, whether there was concrete evidence of sedition or not, to the more isolated penal settlements on Norfolk Island and VDL. This had the effect of disrupting any planning for insurrection.

Finally, hatred of the British in Ireland was transposed to NSW and this meant that Irish leaders had a willing supply of convicts who were prepared to support their actions.

That support came from non-Irish convicts is a reflection of the punitive and arbitrary nature of convict life. Where they were concentrated in one area, as on the Castle Hill farm, Ireland’s cause helped bind these men together. 

However, there were major problems for those seeking rebellion. First, keeping planning secret was a major difficulty and only the Castle Hill revolt in 1804 saw planning converted into action.

Convicts were always willing to ‘split upon each other’ and this allowed the authorities to intervene before matters spiralled out of control.

Secondly, the objectives of rebellion such as the rallying cry of ‘Death or Liberty’ or demands for a ship to go home were idealistic and unrealistic. Although these may have been the aims of rebel leaders, there is little evidence that they were widely held by the rank-and-file, many of whom claimed that they had been forced into rebellion

Thirdly, as in Ireland during the 1798 rebellion, when faced with even inferior military force, the rebels could not translate numerical strength into military victory.

Finally, the hoped for French aid was illusory as it was never part of French strategy and, during the critical period from 1801 to 1804 war in Europe had been suspended. 

It was the British government that was constantly afraid of convict rebellion and disorder though this did not stop it from sending political prisoners to NSW despite the concerns of successive governors. For the authorities, a colony composed largely of convicts was inevitably turbulent and rebellious, something reflected in Hunter’s and King’s despatches. In his reports on NSW and VDL, Bigge considered that the best security against rebellion was the higher standard of living that convicts generally enjoyed in NSW than in Britain and the opportunities and rewards open to those with industry and skill. Some convicts ‘bolted’ but only a few rebelled.

Rouse Hill Estate

Vinegar Hill was not a formal location in 1804.

The battle between the rebels and the soldiers became commonly known as the ‘Battle of Vinegar Hill’ after the Irish battle in 1798. Common usage of the name Vinegar Hill began to appear in the 1810s and 1830s in the Rouse Hill area.

But there is no formal Vinegar Hill on a map. There have been competing thoughts for the location of Vinegar Hill.

Originally it was thought to be Rouse Hill, George Mackanass challenged this in the 1950s marking the location of Vinegar Hill as the crossroads between Windsor Road and Schofields Road.

THIS WAS THE LOCATION OF ROUSE HILL REGIONAL PARK, in which my friend and I partook in rituals with an optical crystal ball resulting in FULL BLOWN MANIFESTATIONS.

-1816

Richard rouse

Built tollhouses, turnpikes, estates from Parramatta to Liverpool

On 8 October 1816 Rouse was granted 180 hectares (450 acres) near the site of the Castle Hill convict rebellion; at the suggestion of Macquarie the grant was named Rouse Hill. The actual possession of the land had taken place a few years previously, as the Sydney Gazette had first mentioned Rouse Hill on 27 November 1813, and the homestead was begun soon afterwards. It took a few years to build and was a two-storey, twenty-two room house, which has been occupied by members of the Rouse family ever since.

Old government house & THOMAS MITCHELL ROYAL PEDIGREE ANCESTRAL ASSET

& THE HIDDEN HAND OF PARRAMATTA GOVERNMENT HOUSE AND THE TIMEKEEPERS SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE

this is an actual freemasonic ancestral connection of mine... this links to the rebellion and the colonisation of the country.

The Observatory, erected in 1822 was part of Brisbane's intention to make Parramatta "the Greenwich of the Southern Hemisphere" (DPWS 1997: p. 39).

1828, when Thomas Mitchell began the first trigonometrical survey of New South Wales, his initial meridian was taken from the Parramatta transit instrument in consultation with Dunlop. That survey underpinned mapping in New South Wales until recent times (Rosen 2003: p. 80).

Surveyor Edward Ebbsworth, when conducting his 1887 survey of Parramatta Park, ensured that the exact location of the piers would be preserved by fixing a copper plug in the basal stone of the piers. 

Brisbane was accompanied to Australia by two astronomers: Charles Rumker, who had already attained a good reputation as an astronomer and mathematician; and James Dunlop, whose great natural ability in mechanical appliances and instruments saw him identified as a suitable man for second assistant in the Observatory in an out of the way place like Parramatta. On arrival in New South Wales, Brisbane's instruments were immediately set up on piers in the Domain to allow the observation of the solstice on 21 December 1821. B

April 1822, the construction of the observatory had been completed in anticipation of the appearance of Encke's Comet, an event not observable in Europe or at the Cape of Good Hope (Rosen 2003: p. 80).

The observatory was privately funded by Brisbane and consisted of two buildings: an observatory equipped at Brisbane's personal expense; and a residence attached to it. Located about 91 m (100 yards) behind Government House, the observatory was a plain building, 8.5 m (28 feet) square by 3.4 m (11 feet) high, with a flat roof with two domes 3.51 m (11 feet 6 inches) in diameter projecting from it, one at the north and the other at the south.

On the north and south sides were five windows, three of which were in a semi-circular projection from the wall at the base of the domes.

Transit openings in the domes extended to one of the windows to allow observations of the horizon. A 0.41-metre (16 in) Reichenbach repeating circle was located under the north dome and a 1.2-metre (46 in) equatorial Banks telescope was under the south dome.

There was also a Troughton mural circle and a 1.7-metre (5+1⁄2 ft) Troughton transit instrument. A Hardy clock showed sidereal time and a Brequet clock showed mean time.

All instruments were mounted on solid masonry piers.

There was also a Fortin pendulum and two instruments for observing the dip and variation of the magnetic needle.

CONVICT LIES

O’Farrell estimates about 1.5% of these were unambiguously sent out as political offenders or participants in rebellion or conspiracy, with the great bulk of these coming in the aftermath of the 1798 Rebellion. 

If crimes of agrarian discontent and social disaffection are included under the heading of ‘political crimes’, then the proportion of Irish political transportees rises to about 20%. The great majority of Irish convicts were, therefore, sent to Australia largely for petty crimes.

Theory to link back to

JOHN DEE AND THE OPTICS OF THE CRYSTAL BALL USED BY THE MONARCHY OF BRITISH CROWN

BASED ON THE PROJECTION INTO THE ASTROLOGICAL, ASTRONOMICAL TRANSITS TO CONQUER VIA USING EDWARD KELLY AS "COURT MAGE" AND THE ENOCHIAN CHESS IN THE GLOBAL CONQUEST

real scrying methods take two or more people in the spiritual court for impact, as per 2009 - 2014 when K and I had adopted the original crystal ball between us resulting in full-blown manifestations, later confirmed by Kardec spiritism sources

my spirits advise me Australia is the prime spot for HAITI 2.0 FOR THE SECOND COMING OF THE SLAVE REVOLT IF THINGS CONTINUE THIS WAY ....

note the date and time and motions of movement

note the present economic, social and political happenstance

note the pestilence that has persistence against the masses who only want freedom and peace

note the objections from the overlords through clauses like agenda 2030, and sustainable development, which are just fancy names for the "new world order". which is just a modern 'human slave agenda" decked out in bureaucratic red tape.

freedom of choice, or be denied all liberty?

look at the manipulation that occurred as a result of COVID-19 and the forced COVID-19 vaccine agenda

when will the next thing that replicates occur, and when will humanity rise against the overlords to object in the most amicable and peaceful or diplomatic way, as clearly, the violence and bloodshed aren't going to work here.

PEACEFUL REBELLION.

[mousegirlheart]

16oz. Brick of Mild Cheddar my beloved

that big old homf from the corner... truly how cheese is meant to be consumed

[booksandwords]

100 Tales from Australia’s Most Haunted Places by Ben Pobjie

Read time: 4 Days Rating: 5/5 Stars

The quote: For as long as human beings have been dying, they have been turning into ghosts. Or maybe they haven't. That's the great thing about ghosts: nobody knows if they're real, so they are endlessly entertaining, like Bigfoot or Elon Musk. — Introduction

Warnings: We are talking ghosts here and it often takes bad stuff to create a ghost. So some warnings: death, murder, suicide, torture, racism, classism and ableism. Among possibly other things.

Okay, I should probably start with where I stand on ghosts real or not. My stance on ghosts basically comes down to a quote from a book "I'm not sure whether I believe in ghosts, but two centuries worth of suffering has to leave a mark." (Billy, The Little Wartime Library). In Australia's case, it's not two centuries our Anglo-Saxon history doesn't go back that far but the point stands. Essentially I'm not above believing in ghosts because of human suffering.

I'm very glad I read this. Ben Pobjie has a fantastic sense of humour (he is a comedian, so massive shock that), and that sense of humour lands in all the right places to keep the mood where it should be. Some of these tales are truly dark, the humour is necessary to lighten to mood. Though I did find myself wondering what was with the (joking) hate on Tassie, and to a lesser degree South Australia. Don't get me wrong I laughed but I found myself curious. I found this to be quite informative in its own way. I have an interest in anthropology and this scratches that itch. It tells stories of everyday people and even ghosts are a part of that field. Some warnings for content death and murder are possibly to be expected in a book about ghosts, it takes death to create a ghost and suicide and torture are others that may be unsurprising. Other warnings that might be less obvious include racism (because you know Australia), classism (because British Empire) and ableism (because 19th century everything). Ben Pobjie is not an author I'd read before, though I do want to read more.

I appreciate the introduction it sets the tone and engages the reader. Pobjie gives his potential reasons for the belief in ghosts. They're pretty on point. The first entry is important, it is the one that grabs the reader and sets the tone. Nurse Kerry, about Aradale Lunatic Asylum, is the right choice. She is perfectly distressing. Not that her patients are sunshine and rainbows. The Bushranger Hotel feels like an odd choice to end on. But it does reference something Australia is known for, Bushrangers (in specific Ben Hall and Jack Dunn) and leaves the reader with a friendly and helpful ghost in the Quirks. The two of them are the right kind of entries to bookend the book. They balance well asylums and pubs are both common in the book, even more so when you look at them as a place of incarceration vs a place of rest and relaxation. I did find it to be quite well organised. The places that had multiple entries were spread out, the types of ghosts are varied and not repetitive in their order. Each chapter is two or three pages long with a relevant title, either the ghosts name, the location or a joke, under that is the geographic location by town and state. If the location isn't in the title it is usually in one of the first two paragraphs. It all just works so well.

Some quotes and comments. It's not for all of them but there are quite a few.

• Frederick Carr was hanged in 1929 at Adelaide Gaol. He's an oddly jovial ghost despite the injustices against him. He was hanged for the murder of his wife Maud. He's presentation has changed over time. Going from faceless to having a face and no one knows why. I just like that he's not angry.

• There is an intriguing dichotomy to the young ladies of Young & Jackson's the nameless ghost and Chloé. One is highly celebrated and prized while the other is nameless, lost and alone.

• The former denizens of the old convict settlement close in around you, insistent and suffocating, as soon as you arrive. If you can't hear them, you can feel them: the souls of thousands of the tortured, the abused and the murdered. The very air is weighted and perfumed with the pain and anger and sadness of a place built specifically to inflict those things. — I love this quote okay it's just so visceral. I like the way Port Arthur is managed. There are only a couple of brief examples. It feels like a yeah of course there are bloody ghosts here. It was a place of death and misery. (p.11, Ghosts of Port Arthur). Much the same thing is done with The North Head Quarantine Station, though there the story of the Gravedigger's cottage.

• There is something highly amusing about Pobjie not rant exactly but a paragraph that could have gone there about darkrooms being extremely spooky. I had never thought of it.

• Late one night, early in his residence, Bishop Trower awoke to find his bedroom awash with an unearthly light. The illumination emanated from a man who had, rather impolitely, entered his bedchamber without so much as a by-your-leave. — In the same chapter but a different point. There is something highly amusing about a pearl, The Rosinate Pearl, having vaguely homicidal tendencies. That (perhaps fictional) pearl has quite a high body count. (p.17, The Pearl Buyer of Broome)

• The Liftman is written in an interesting way. It's the only one written from a dual perspective and I like it.

• Under the laws of the time, suicide, or felo-de-se ('felon of himself' in Latin) was a crime equivalent to murder, — I knew this law existed but I never knew the Latin for it. What I found more interesting was that being found guilty of felo-de-se allowed the state to seize your assets. Francis Grote also has a pretty good ghost. (p.26, The Huntsman of Rostrevor)

• Catherine Spense broke my heart but she is exactly the kind of woman you aspire for your daughters to be.

• And to this day, every November, Campbelltown celebrates the Fisher's Ghost Festival, an event which brings together the whole town to celebrate community and ghosts. — This celebration is kinda weird to me, and I'm guessing a lot of others. Fisher has only had one appearance, unfinished business and all that. He's a bit different among this collection. (p.35, Fisher's Ghost)

• It could be that the sandhills themselves are simply replaying their own memory of the nightmare that descended upon them that chilly autumn night. — The feel of the unknown in the sandhills. It's different, and I like the imagery. (p.38, The Murdering Sandhills)

• I adore Albert Ogilvie so much as a ghost. He was a legend as a man too.

• Even in the olden days, when hanging people was more a fun family day out than a law-enforcement technique, slipping the noose around a female neck was something not done lightly. — This is about Martha Rendell and my response was essentially Jesus Christ you what? (p.43, The Stepmother from Hell)

• Marybank's protective ghosts are great. Allowing themselves to be heard but not seen by the occupants of the house, the descendants of the first family, the Fox's. But more than willing to reveal themselves to guests. It's a bit of a quirk among the entries.

• the Miracle House of Guildford in Western Sydney is fascinating. If you believe the story (and this one I am sceptical of) Mike Tannerous fulfilled his life goal to help people. I had to laugh when I read this entry though. Just days ago my mother and I were talking about canonisation in the Catholic church.

• The fact that Old Tailem Town was constructed Frankenstein-style, from historic buildings from elsewhere, means that it occupies a unique place among ghostly locations. Rather than being haunted by those who died on the spot, spirits have been trucked in from myriad other spots to rub shoulders on the pioneer village. — They are some pretty unique ghosts though. I do like the idea of a Frankenstein-style construction of a town. (p.75-6, Terror of Tailem Town)

• I am absolutely unsurprised that the Old Melbourne Goal is in here. The ghost of choice is Cell 17, a notorious and extremely physical ghost. I do quite appreciate Ned Kelly's silence on spectral matters.

• Quinn's Light is fascinating. But questions... I have questions.

• Indeed, as there are plenty of other spirits haunting the North Kapunda Hotel — hence its 'most haunted' appellation — the Man in Black likes to keep busy menacing them as well. It's a rare and particularly obnoxious ghost who devotes his time to spooking other spooks, but that's the Man in Black all over: a total jerk. — The North Kapunda Hotel is the place with the most entries. Dr Blood (no seriously his real name), The Man in Black, Sarah and Emily and her sister. They are all different and I like that are all here. The Man in Black is a total jerk and I kinda like it. (p.102, The Man in Black)

• But seriously: if you want to know how terrifying an old maternity hospital can be, just think about babies. Lots of babies. Crying. Screaming, sobbing, wailing. In the night. — Nope, nope, nope. How about nope. (p.104, The Evil Matron)

• I'd heard of George Grover, convict and all-round toss pot. But I didn't know he went ghost.

• Adelaide Arcade has more than a few ghosts, but us was the family case that got me.

• I'm honestly not surprised Mad Dan Morgan has a ghost and a nasty one at that. And that is two headless horsemen in Australia. What does surprise me is the lack of bushrangers with ghosts in general. It kinda gives a beaten by the better men or death wish to their life choices/ actions.

• George Ferguson Bowen had a well travelled and illustrious career. That his ghost settled in Brisbane makes me wonder... why?

• I appreciate the inclusion of the modern ghosts in The Road to Capalaba. I wish we knew their story. But in a way not having it is even better. Because they could be everyone.

• There are three chapters on The spooks of Monte Christo, with Monte Christo being a Homestead in Junee, New South Wales. They are all very different ghosts. The maid that found herself in a delicate condition was completely unsurprising fukn men in power. But it is Harold, Harold that broke me. Instead, going by the most cutting-edge medical and psychological advice available at the time, they decided to help Harold to live a rich and fulfilling life by chaining him to a wall. (p.140, ) Hahaha... NO. He was chained to a wall for 40 years. 🤬 No wonder he became a ghost. It was horrifying. The only shock is that he's a friendly ghost. As in he just was to make friends 😢.

• Melbourne's Princess Theatre opened in December 1886 and has been haunted since March 1888. That's impressive. I didn't know about the vacant seat tradition. Though it is hardly the only theatre with that kind of tradition.

• How have I never heard Elizabeth Scott's story before now (Poor Elizabeth Scott)? Hanged at the Old Melbourne Goal in 1863 for conspiring to kill her husband. She was married off to her husband at 13 (a little young even for the time) and of course, he was an abusive pos. The shotgun blast to his head fixed that malady (good). And because I can't resist.

• But there's something sweet and hopeful about the sight of Blanche and Dave wandering St Mark's together, because that's exactly what they are: together. Being a ghost seems like a lonely lifestyle, and all the moreso for a child. If these two youngsters, talked by tragedy and separated by six decades, have in afterlife found each other, their friendship might b cause for uplift in that grim and sombre place. —(p.178, The Cemetery Children)

• Sometimes the presentation of the ghost feels like true indication of the rest of their story. Like the milliner mourning her own death in the fashions of the day and in the art (trade if you must) that was her life.

• All countries have ghost stories, but only one turned a ghost story into its most popular patriotic song. Of course, 'Waltzing Matilda' isn't just a ghost story: it's also a cheerful tale of suicide and depending on your point of view an account of either justice or injustice done. —I really like all the falsehoods in the song but that original story should not be forgotten. (p188, And His Ghost My Be Heard...)

• I'm pleased there are ghost animals in here. Animals may be more disconcerting than humans.

• The hangings at the Old Windmill (Brisbane) in July 1841 were horrifying. If you want to hang someone hang them, not whatever that was.

• The current proprietors of the Albany Convict Gaol have, in the interests of giving their customers value for money in the frights department, adorned the rooms of the old building with a variety of dummies of frankly nightmarish aspect. They set them in chairs to stare at you so that when you turn to go into a room, you jump out of your skin and let out an embarrassingly high-pitched nose because there's some kind of deformed evil gypsy watching you with one bulging eye. —The book actually contains an image of one of the mannequins and they scare me more than any ghost in that place could I think. (p.242, The Black Hole) There are baby cries... baby cries in a convict gaol? I think not thank you. It's just so very wrong. The title The Black Hole is a sensory deprivation cell. Again no thank you. And I'm pretty sure they are still used.

• Oh man, the ghosts in Steiglitz outnumber the people... by quite a way.

• I did not know that Australia even had a monastic town, let alone that it had its own guardian ghost. New Norcia in W.A. was settled by Spanish Benedictine Monks in 1847. The ghost, known as The Blue Nun, is that of Sister Maria Harispe.

• The best known and most seen of Gaiety's cast of spirits is Ava, the theatre's proud addition to the pantheon of little-girl ghosts. — Honestly Ava sounds kinda adorable. She just kinda ignores people and goes about her business. (p.261, Ghosts of the Gaiety) There really in a pantheon little-girl ghosts. I'm just going to put a couple of them here. The little girl at Larundel Asylum is so heartbreaking, her music box would be disturbing though. The young girls at Spook Cemetery are horrifying. As much as more of these places would be great to visit not his one. You need nice hands. The last little-girl ghost we meet is at the Coach & Horses, she just wants friends, appearing mostly to children.

• Determinig whether the Royal Derwent Hospital, popularly known as Willow Court is haunted is a relatively simple process. Just ask the question, 'Is Willow Court Australia's oldest mental health facility?' If the answer is 'yes,' then OF COURSE, IT'S HAUNTED, YOU IDIOT. I mean, surely we know by know: if it's old and it once housed the mentally ill, there will be ghosts fizzing about inside it. — There is so much going on at this place nearly all of it bad. 'Asylum's abortion chair' is just three words that do not belong together here, unsurprisingly that chair has its own ghost. (p.263, Winston of Ward 5)

• It's interesting The Poinciana Woman echoes a few female folk tales globally. A huge injustice was committed against her I'm glad that the tale exists. Like so many of her sister tales she has become both a caregiver and an angel of vengeance.

• And they stare at you with their lifeless eyes, as if you say, 'As soon as you turn your back is turned, we are going to jump you and sink our mannequin fangs into your tender flesh like those statues from Doctor Who.' — I really did not expect a Faraway Tree. Yeah, they are pretty damn odd. Oh and we get this Doctor Who reference in the same entry as a treat. What other Doctor Who monster are we going to reference other than Weeping Angels. (p. 93, The Grouch Major)

[takenbybean]

Cape Leeuwin, Augusta, July 21 2021

[alittlelesslove]

[jasperathrifteddoll]

Last week i completed a Summit To Sea trip from Mount Kosciouszko to Marlo beach in Australia. It was the big final trip for my Cert IV course in Outdoor Leadership

It was 18 days away from home. With 3 and a bit days of hiking from Kosciouszko national park (due to dangerous weather we couldn't *actually* start from the summit) and roughly 10 days of rafting down the Snowy River

I just found this artwork/poem today - and it hits So Very Well

Me and the other 40 or so people who were with me are the only ones who can truly understand. We became a family for over two weeks (not even considering the year i've spent with them already). A family that loved each other, cooked together, slept next to each other, and got fucking pissed at each other.

The outdoors change you, that trip changed me, and I wouldn't take that back for anything.

A short comic I made about my experiences as a seasonal worker, and the way places change you.

Prints & PDF

[nbm-live]

Ghosts of Adelaide Arcade: Unearthing the Haunting Mysteries of South Australia’s Historic Mall

Nestled in the heart of Adelaide’s bustling Rundle Mall, the Adelaide Arcade stands as one of South Australia’s oldest and most architecturally charming shopping precincts. Built in 1885, it’s renowned for its Victorian elegance, iconic heritage, and high-end retail offerings. Yet, behind the ornate facades and elegant interiors lies a darker, ghostly tale that has captured the imagination of locals and paranormal enthusiasts alike. Rumored to be one of the most haunted places in South Australia, the Adelaide Arcade is said to harbor the restless spirits of tragic souls, with eerie occurrences continuing to baffle visitors to this day.

Read more...

[blogparanormalexpresso2stuff]

https://www.llifs.com.au/blog/ghosts-of-the-past-haunted-house-near-melbourne/

Ghosts of the Past: Haunted house near Melbourne

In this series, I take a look at some historical accounts of ghostly encounters published in newspapers. In this edition, a writer recounts a holiday spoiled by a noisy poltergeist and the ridicule received by sceptical friends when he told others of what they experienced.

[plaguedocboi]

We all love the beach, right? I sure do. Where the sea meets the land is a magical place. It is the overlap of two very different worlds; our sunny, sandy, beautiful home and the alien waves that beckon you into the inhospitable wilderness of the ocean. When crossing that foam-fringed boundary, one must remember that you are no longer in your world. You are entering the sea, and the sea is vast and dark and dangerous. It is more untamed than the wildest jungle and full of creatures that can kill you in a hundred different gruesome ways. Every wave whispers to you that you do not belong here, you may only visit for a brief time if you want to leave with your life. Hold tight to the warm sunlit sand that fringes the barrier of this place, or you may never see it again. Welcome to the beach. Enter at your own risk.

1. Tamarama beach, Australia

This is know as both the smallest and the most dangerous beach in NSW. There is a permanent rip current that runs along the rocky northern shore, but at any given time there could be more hidden in the surf. Large waves break just a little ways offshore, posing a hazard to swimmers but an attraction for surfers. Although there are rarely deaths here, lifeguards have to rescue multiple people a day. Interestingly, this beach is only around sometimes! Occasionally all the sand will wash away and all that’s left is a rocky outcrop. There’s no way to be certain when the beach will come back or how big it will be or what it might look like. I guess it never gets boring to visit.

2. Isle of Ré, France

This island is not the only place you can go to see square waves, but it is one of the places most famous for this strange phenomenon. This is called a cross sea, and occurs when two opposing wave patterns intersect. Although this is certainly a tourist attraction, it is best to observe from a distance, as cross seas can be very dangerous to both ships and swimmers. Cross seas can cause powerful rip currents and walls of water up to 10 feet high, rolling ships and dragging people underwater. (As a side note, my mother thought I had made up cross seas as a freaky supernatural event in my book. Unfortunately, I did not.)

3. Dumas Beach, India

This is supposedly one of the most haunted places in India. Although this beach is full of tourists during the daytime, no one remains after dark, for fear that they will become the next ghost to wander the sand. Apparently, this beach was once used as a burial ground, and said to be black due to the human ashes mixed in. At night, people report hearing voices and seeing apparitions, and even dogs behave strangely once the sun goes down. There have also been multiple unexplained disappearances and at least one recorded death. Whether you believe in ghosts or not, there definitely seems to be something eerie happening on this beach.

4. Morecambe Bay, UK

This is an interesting one, as it’s not technically the water that’s dangerous. The ground is. This estuary features extreme tides, with the water level dropping and rising up to 32 feet twice a day. This exposes an expanse of mud flats and channels which are composed of loose, wet material that can absolutely suck you in and trap you. If this happens when the tide is coming in, it can quickly turn deadly. This has happened many times going back through history, including one incident in 2004 where 23 people died. Yes, all at the same time. No, I don’t want to delve into that incident too deeply in this list as it’s extremely horrifying and tragic. Feel free to research it yourself.

5. Monastery Beach, Oregon

This has earned its nickname “mortuary beach” by being extremely dangerous. Over 30 people have died here, including people who weren’t even in the water. In 2015, a woman walking along the beach was dragged in by a wave and drowned. The beach has multiple factors that make it so deadly, including a steep drop off, unpredictable waves, and strong undertows. This beach isn’t even safe to walk on. I um. Don’t like that.

6. Hanakapiai Beach, Hawaii

Despite its beauty, this Hawaiian beach is not recommended for swimming except for expert surfers. During the summer, this beach is a popular place for hiking, sunbathing and sightseeing, but during the winter the sand is washed away and the waves crash against the cliffs directly. Even in the relatively safe summer months, this beach has no barrier reef to break up the strong waves and powerful currents, which leads to a dangerous situation where swimmers can quickly be swept out into the open ocean and drown. At least 30 people have died here, and 15 of the bodies have never been recovered.

7. Lake Michigan. Just, all of it.

Despite all the Great Lakes being somewhat terrifying, Michigan takes the title of the most dangerous lake in the country. Yearly, Lake Michigan has more drownings than all four other Great Lakes combined. The reason that Michigan is especially hazardous is that, well, it’s kind of weirdly shaped. Thanks to its 300+ miles of uninterrupted parallel shorelines running north-south, it forms huge waves and strong riptides and long shore currents. It is also a question of numbers; Lake Michigan has more public beaches and large population centers than the other Great Lakes. All in all, a recipe for disaster.

8. Playa Zipolite, Mexico

This is also called the “beach of the dead”, so it’s inclusion on this list seems pretty self-explanatory. These waters have strong undercurrents that rotate in a circular pattern, either pushing you into shore or pulling you out to sea. There is a pervasive rumor that 50 people drown at this beach a year, although this is… somewhat exaggerated. In fact, very few people drown at this beach these days, as it has actually gotten less dangerous over the years. There used to be a steep drop-off that would catch people by surprise, but due to several severe storms in the early 2000s, the beach has eroded back and now gently slopes down instead. Although very few people die at this beach nowadays, multiple rescues are performed every day due to the dangerous currents.

9. Cyclops, Australia

This is a particular type of wave that forms off the coast of Esperance, Australia, as the sea floor rapidly goes from deep, open water to a very very shallow reef. It is… unsettling. The longer I look at it, the weirder it gets. It’s like an ai generated image. I couldn’t even pick one picture of it so I made you a collage.

It is considered one of the most dangerous surf spots in the world, and can only be accessed by boat. To quote pacific surf dot com, “the reason the wave is dangerous is because it does not act like any other wave in the world. It engulfs itself due to the massive change in the ocean floor when the wave rolls up.”

10. Nazare, Portugal

This area of Portugal is home to some of the biggest waves in the world. Just offshore is an underwater canyon, plunging down to 16,000 ft deep. This allows large, fast deep-water waves to move into shore unimpeded, and when they hit the shallows close to shore all the water gets suddenly pushed up, resulting in waves up to 80 ft tall. I think the picture speaks for itself in this case. Probably best to not get in the water if you see that shit.

That was fun, wasn’t it? Before I go, let me end this on a different note than the rest of my lists; some actual advice for if you should you ever decide to visit these beaches (or any beach, really). Rip currents are incredibly strong (believe me, I know) but very narrow currents that run perpendicular to shore. To get out of a rip current, swim parallel to shore. Trying to fight the current will just tire you out and eventually leave you exhausted and way the fuck out in the ocean, which is typically when you die. Swimming parallel to shore will get you out of the current, and once you’re free you can swim back in at your leisure. And, just in general, never fight the sea. The sea will win.

[alcqraz]

★ summary — after yet another tough loss in the australian open, y/n finds solace within her boyfriend. ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★★ pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader ˖˙ ꔫ —★★★ content warnings. n/a. carlos being a cutie patootie? ˖˙ ꔫ —★★ word count. 3.2k ˖˙ ꔫ —★ genre. fluff. it's carlos. what do you expect? ★ authors note: for the girls! i really need to write some x male!reader for myself... ben drabble coming next and then we go from there. also ugh, he's so cute i love him so much. after 6 decades, 4 redbulls and 25 million complaints, you shalt recieve whatever the hell this monstrosity is... i apologize, this is terrible. ⠀⠀⠀❛⠀⠀ @yungbludz ; @csainzcalcaraz ; idk who else to tag.

Bitterness was an odd sort of sensation. It wrapped around the heart within a warp of seamless, thick fog- the cold tendrils seeping into the crevices of positivity that she deemed to find after such a loss. It whispered to Y/N in moments where she stood in front of the media, rumbling off a number of responses given by her public relations manager. One for which she believed to have almost no effect upon her relationship with the public. It lingered, like some sort of lurking shadow amongst the thoughts that crowded her back of mind as the reality delved deep into her bones. As the media had swooped down as vultures and ripped her performance apart with each piece of mindless critique that, most of the time, could be said to have been terribly wrong.

She’d known the drill. Exchanging hands with the devil within every turn that crossed her path, with every early round exit that haunted her presence as she packed up to head towards the next tournament. One which would lead to the abiding taste of victory or once again; bitterness. It followed her every step, with every ground stroke, with every serve missed. It was only when the umpire would shout out the words- game, set match; followed by a name that was not hers, would she realize. It settled in slowly; similar to the dust that set on the shelves after being unused for far too long, and eventually did she finally feel the truth of it all. 

Australia seemed to disdain her existence as a whole. Y/N had decidedly chosen to believe so after a handful of upsets. Within the premises of a place far too beautiful to be spiteful, does she drown within her sorrows of the match. The Australian Open always rubbed like salt within her wounds, lost matches after lost matches, and she wondered to herself what she could possibly be doing wrong with her career. It was not as if it were common. Undoubtedly, Y/N would lose; just as the greatest to ever have played the game had done so before, but within the years that passed by, it only tended to happen with a good run. Perhaps losing upon the semi-finals or the finals could be regarded as a wider received upset, however the expectation that crawled upon her skin with every waking moment only pressured her further to go for a deeper run.

And yet, as the sun dipped lower upon the evening-lit sky, it sank deep within the horizon as such a carefully crafted and cared for gold coin slipping into the darkened waves of the ocean. Casting hues of colors that in any other situation, Y/N would find extraordinary. What was not to appreciate a good sunset for? But it was not the stunning beauty of the sunset that plastered her thoughts, and to her utter surprise and relief, was also not the stalling weight of the loss. Instead, her mind subconsciously drifted to the Spaniard that she knew would be waiting upon her arrival. 

Carlos was never one short of a support system for Y/N. In a sort of way, she wonders faintly what she would do without his constant encouragement and advocacy. Who would be there for her after such a loss? Who would be the one to woefully wrap their arms around her as she doubted her ability, the one who would whisper sweet nothings into her ears until she truly believed it? Y/N knew that she couldn’t escape it again this time, despite the need to potentially be alone for multiple hours before truly being in a mindset to talk to others without resulting in a bout of tension due to snappy answers. 

She knew that he would’ve watched the match. Sitting atop his hotel room bed in which she had fallen asleep in for many days beforehand, never daring to book a shared room due to the fear of being caught by, not his team, but others. News outlets, reporters- those who would do nothing less than to dwell low for an eye-catching title. Sprawled across the sheets, she could imagine him, his mouth pursed into a tight line; not at the loss, but at the disappointed glances the camera would’ve caught with ease. He never cared for her results, not in that sense, but in the sense of that he would not judge her for an early round exit such as today. The only thing that mattered to him would’ve been what she had felt- frustration, agitated, disappointed, seemed to all be on the table on this fateful night.

And in a certain light, she looked forward to those tender moments. The feeling of a ripple of being loved and appreciated within an ocean of critical and in times, cruel comments that had been made of her. For her tennis, her looks, her image; there always appeared to be something to grumble about albeit it be for the tiniest, most inconspicuous things. Carlos always shook his head, his head of grown hair shaking in such a way that was endearing to Y/N. He’d reach over, gently plucking the phone from his hands although unable to hide his pique of interest in what his girlfriend so… encapsulated. He’d learnt quickly that it was never good in instances as such. 

There would be some form of tension as the Spaniard would look up, an odd frown stretching across his face. It never fit him right- frowning, it just didn’t feel right, like a human in an animal enclosure. Unbelonging. Conceivably, it was because she was used to his bright, joyous and up-lifting grin, that goofy smile that could assault a ray of light upon the darkest of days. Seeing the opposite of it was unfathomable. There would be a mumble of words, half mixed with Spanish as he would set the phone down, an arm slowly easing up to provide a source of comfort. 

Arguably, the drive back to the exquisite hotel in which she had been assigned could be determined to be the longest and shortest drive she’d ever experienced. The driver made no attempt to start a conversation in any variation, instead decidedly for the better, kept his mouth tightly shut. Y/N had assumed that one not so nice glance, which- for the record, she did not mean to give, shut him up real quick as from a viewpoint, he looked fairly friendly. Like the sort of person to make small talk with strangers without making either party feel vastly uncomfortable. She’d never gotten out of a place faster in her life. Mumbling out a soft thank you, because if honesty was policy, it was the least she could do after such a drive.

She was thankful that at least the hotel had a welcoming atmosphere, the constant chatter of guests that could care less of her arrival. Or even better, did not recognize her for who she was. Her team had followed back within another car, not that Y/N had requested so, but it felt more of a moral perception. They knew what to leave things at, and she could come to appreciate having a group of people that understood. Within the dynamic lighting in the building, she could vaguely make out one of the tournament cars pulling into the entrance. 

Hauling the bag that slung across a singular shoulder, and quietly adjusting the hanging strap, Y/N stumbles her way back towards her room. The hallway stood eerily silent, the usual foreigner- or group of foreigners had either disappeared into the night, taken an early exit, or drunk on a dance floor. The latter, she had assumed. Notionally, it would’ve been far better than having to be questioned by the eyes of another guest, making polite small-talk as the elevator shuddered and picked up its pace. They’d wish her luck, not knowing the slaughter that had happened on court not even hours before. 

A part of Y/N wants to immediately head over to Carlos’s room. To drop everything and melt within his strong arms, to go home. But she knew better than to show up at his front door, sweaty, pissed off and with an arm load of bags. And so she resisted, grumbling a number of curses as she punched in the floor that her suite had been on, waiting as the elevator whirred to its heart's content. It feels far too long, the walk back grudging and slow, with every drag of her foot feeling as she were walking through puddles of wet concrete. Perhaps it was the exhaustion after a match dwelling down, or perhaps it’s the mental aspect of everything- Y/N never could truly pinpoint this feeling, despite the half-hearted attempts at understanding.

Her bags are carelessly strewn across the floor, allowing her jacket to fall upon one of the unused chairs of her suite. The room is big; far too big for a single person living in it, and whilst Y/N had admired the spaciousness of the area when she had first arrived, now it had felt more despondent than ever. Even showering felt enervating, too hot for a minute, then too cold for another, and she wonders how such an expansive hotel could reserve for a lavish waterfall in its lobby, yet not have enough for a capable showerhead. She had to admit though, she’d felt better after such a shower, muscles relaxing and the stench being wafted away within a moment's notice. It feels as if she’d done it a million times, coming back after a match, trying to take a relaxing shower before she was to be grilled by her coach for the next. It felt more of a simulation, as if things were repeating itself over and over again, like a clock resetting after every twelve hours. The only time that would differ would be around Carlos, the Spaniard making time feel irrelevant to the universe, until it was only them that mattered. Nothing else, nothing more.

It’s always for that reason she found herself back in this position, new comfortable clothing that hung loosely around her shoulders, hair up for it to dry faster. There would be no makeup involved, she’d known Carlos for long enough that she knew he could not care for what she looked like in these moments. Instead, worrying about further issues. It’s almost embarrassing how many times she found solace within him, as he would finally open that god damn door to his hotel room, that stupid smile that could light up the entire town, the way he never seemed less excited to see Y/N no matter how many times he’d actually seen her. He was so… how could he be so… she never grasped at how or why, never could comprehend. It never changed. 

“Y/N?”

Carlos peers curiously, eyes glinting with a sort of inquisitiveness no one else could replicate. That look, the one that Y/N could never get used to, one that shone like the moon upon a dim evening sky. “Estas bien?”His words cut through the uttered silence, his head cocking to the side like a mackerel. For a moment, she profoundly forgot where she was, taking more than just a second to process the Spaniard’s words.

Her eyelids flutter, open and shut, shut then open, as if trying to clear a haze that had clouded her vision. Deliberately, she let her head sway from one side to another, strands of hair falling from the elastic that held her hair together. “Oh, uh-” She stumbles over her words, as if she were suddenly at a loss, a lump forming cautiously within the midsts of her throat. “Yes, yeah- I’m fine, estoy bien.” The words feel jumbled as it comes out of her mouth, as if she hadn’t spoken in many years before advancing her way towards Carlos.

He looks around, protruding his head from the frame of the wooden door, as if he were searching for something, or perchance, it was looking out for her. When he had decidedly chosen that the coast could be deemed as clear, Carlos gently ushers Y/N in, a hand swiping behind her back and brushing her into the room. It’s far messier than her room, as well, Carlos was Carlos and old habits die hard, but it feels much more of a humble abode. The smell of Carlos wafts airly within the room, like a warm, familiar embrace, dancing lightly throughout the suite. It wraps around like a fuzzy blanket, easing the tension that spooked through her veins, allowing her to sink into a contraption of intimacy. 

Carlos’s mouth opens, as if he were to say something, but he hesitates wearily. Y/N is sure that it’s because he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing, that would rub her in the wrong way. The thought stings a little, knowing that Carlos felt as if he couldn’t say what he truly thought to her without the fear of retaliation. “No estuvo mal.” He says the words slowly, dragging across his tongue, syllable by syllable. “Te veías bien.”

There’s a hint of truth that comes with his words, Carlos didn’t enjoy lying, especially to her, Y/N quickly realized soon into their relationship. He knew of the pain of hearing those around him lying of how he played- good or bad. He discerned, to only speak of the truth. Yet he also, deep down, fathomed that she would not believe what he said despite the sincerity. Knew that it was a battle already lost, and there was not much he could do about it other than whisper caring endearments until the discomfort of the loss passed. 

“It didn’t feel good.” She responds, not quite a snap back to Carlos, but more of a defense mechanism to protect herself. 

“Losing does not feel good ever, yes?” His words are coated with an accent, one that she found more endearing than anything else. The attempt was enough to fill a crack of her heart with warmth, and it only grows further as Carlos takes a couple steps in to enfold his arms around Y/N, in a well meant attempt to shield her from any negative critiques or thoughts. “Pero eso no significa que no fuera bueno, ¿verdad?”

She knew what was to come. Knew the little spiel of words he had crafted carefully within his mind. He would remind her of the positives. Of how it could do more good than bad, and that it was just a single tournament in an ocean of others. She would come back, win the next title, and all would be forgotten as the media turned back to the bouts of adoration for her antics and play style. 

Carlos sighs, shaking his head in such a manner of disappointment. “Ven aqui.” He mumbles softly, his words barely breaking the silence that touched the room. He takes a few purposeful steps toward the bed, tugging her alongside him. His touch lingers, a gentle pressure that presses Y/N against the comfortable mattress in a way that feels tender and intimate, exuding a warmth and familiarity that only Carlos could convey to her. It’s a moment cuddled with unspoken connection, where every brush of his hand spoke volumes of the devotion he felt.

There was nothing she would want more, nothing that could comfort her in such a way that it made the whole world feel at peace. He could make her forget in a number of ways, but this- his body pressed up against hers, breath hot against her skin as he tangled them into a spooning position. It feels as if heaven were on Earth, the sensations greater than whatever pleasure tennis could bring to her. “Todo va a estar bien, si?” Carlos whispers, carrying not only a sense of warmth but tinged with secrecy as well. A sacred space that only withled the two of them, with no allowed space for others. A fleeting moment, that has Y/N’s heart thumping within her body.

“Maybe if you’re always here after I lose in straight sets.” 

Her response isn’t biting, it’s not bitter as she would’ve expected it to be. Perhaps it was because he found it nearly impossible to act so rudely towards Carlos. He smiles though, in an answer, his lips stretching lazily into that stupid, stupid grin. “Siempre estaré aquí para ti, amor.” Carlos says, lips just tracing over the lobes of her ears, and for a moment, Y/N shuddered at the touch- so intimate and close, so indescribable. His fingers lay on her delicate skin, one that had been soaked upon sweat just hours ago, and it feels as if the area had been set on fire. His touch warm and fascinating, his lips soft and ginger as he slowly bestows a kiss on her own. 

It’s a feeling Y/N would never be able to shake off no matter how many times it happened. The elusive tingle that tinged up her spine, then throughout her bones, every nerve as if it had been lit on fire. The way his hands slowly caresses her face, not intruding and not pushing for anything further, just to have her in such a way that only the luckiest woman in the world could imagine to have. And when he pulls away, it leaves Y/N yearning for more, eyes trying to convey a message of need and desire. But Carlos is quick to shake his head, and although dismay aligns across his features, he’s firm about it. 

“Descansa un poco” He murmurs, turning so that Y/N would lay on the mattress in a manner that he knew she’d prefer to anything else. Likewise, she was tired. In spite of everything- the match, the weight of the loss, the media that gawked, their smirks playing along their faces as she spoke, every word a better headline for them, in a fashion of twisting her own words and using them to stab her against the back. It was, perhaps, the worst part of tennis, one that Y/N wished she could evaporate with a snap of her fingers. But she could not, she did not have the power to do so, and it was not as if it would be of any use if she had tried. 

With a defiant huff of a breath, she tried to ease the restlessness that lodged between her bones, letting her eyes fall shut, easing into an acquainted darkness. With the pressure of Carlos around her, the soft breathing that snuck in and out, sweeping across her right ear, Y/N mitigates into a calming state of bliss. One in which she only found moments like these, where she did not have to shine as a radiant poster boy, where she could finally just let herself be. And during that interval where she felt not quite asleep, yet not awake either, she smiles to herself, knowing that for one, she could rest easy for the time being. That she was safe, within the consolation of home. 

[poly-alt-partner]

Hide and Seek - Colby Brock X Fem!Reader - Part 1

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You join Sam, Colby, and The Boys on an investigation of Geelong Gaol in Australia. After the intro of the video, Sam and Colby set up their first 'challenge' of the night - Hide and Seek! What happens when Colby finds you first?

Info: I did write a few parts that happened in the video (especially the beginning). Hopefully it's not a spoiler to anyone who hasn't watched the latest upload!

Warnings: Dark rooms, cussing, some spicy interactions with Colby😉(will be in part 2)

____________________________________________________________

While you weren't new to ghost hunting and investigating haunted locations, you had never been to a haunted prison like Geelong Gaol. With an estimated 500+ deaths on the grounds, it was no wonder that there would be activity in the once active cells and hallways. Although you were joined by more people than usual there was still an uneasy feeling in your gut.

Before going on tour with the guides and learning more about the history everyone met in the main hallway. For the introduction you and Colby followed Sam around the corner while Juicy, Narrator, Mully, Eddie, and Josh stayed by the stairs.

"Not only did we bring (y/n) to Australia with us..." Sam pointed the camera towards you as the three of you walked back down the hall. You smiled and waved quickly before Sam turned back towards the corridor.

"We are also here with The Boys!" You watched as the group leaned in close to one another and shouted in excitement. Despite being in such a creepy location everyone was hyped up and happy to be together. Seeing how everyone interacted and got along was comforting at least.

Sam pointed out that everyone (including you) were wearing black while he was in a bright orange jumper. After a few more minutes of talking and plugging the merch, Colby took the camera from Sam. Sam got a little more serious and turned towards the bigger group.

"Alright, who's the believer of the group?" Sam inquired towards the five men.

Eddie chimed in first. "I started off as a nonbeliever and I'm the biggest bitch in the whole group."

You couldn't help but laugh and nod to yourself. There were definitely times that you would have preferred to bounce from a location when things got serious. But in all honesty, who didn't have moments like that?

"I am very skeptical," Mully started. "But I also leave places being like 'How do we explain this?'"

So far Mully has definitely been the type to be spooked by any clear evidence. He also has a habit of telling things to 'f*ck off' when it's getting too real. You can't really blame him, though. It's still hard to believe some of the things you've experienced through the years.

"Before we get into any of the history, we do have a little challenge for you guys." Upon hearing this you glance over at Colby curiously, having not heard of this prior.

"So we're all gonna split up."

"Already?" Mully's voice pitches a little higher than normal.

"Before we know anything, everyone needs to isolate themselves and we are gonna play hide and seek."

Excuse me? I did not sign up for this. You exchange glances with Juicy and Narrator. They can also tell you didn't know about this. In spite of the new information Mully and Eddie started cracking jokes. However you weren't entirely confident with running around in such an unfamiliar place.

Sam continues to explain the challenge. "Winner of hide and seek gets to choose one person to do the first investigation in solitary confinement." The Boys groan and you can't help but agree with them. If I can't win, I hope the winner doesn't choose me to investigate alone.

"(Y/n) you can either do rock, paper, scissors to be a seeker or you can opt out to be someone that hides," Colby says, noticing how tense you seemed. You should honestly be used to challenges like these by now.

"I'll just hide so one of you two have to find me."

You see Colby smirk a little before turning back to Sam to see who would be seeking. As far as you knew, Colby always lost when they did rock, paper, scissors. But you noticed the glint in his eye and wondered if his losing streak would continue.

Initially Colby had won, meaning Sam would be seeker. However, he decided he wanted to try again to see if Colby would lose. Lo and behold, Colby lost again and was now designated seeker. Your heart raced a little at the thought of hiding alone in the dark and you kind of hoped to lose quickly. Losing the game was better than being alone for more than a few minutes.

As soon as everyone had their own cameras it was time to split up. Everyone started running to find the best hiding spot, including you. Eddie and Juicy seem to be shaking hands as you run past them and some of the display cases. You duck into a small room not far from them and crouch behind the door.

"Everyone ran ahead of me," You whisper to the camera. "If I'm lucky, Colby will just run past to investigate the cells." You glance around the small room at some text but decide that reading isn't a good idea right now. You decide to zoom in with the camera in case it's needed for the footage.

"Who's gonna be fucking found first?!" Colby's voice echoes around the building, causing you to cover your mouth and turn the camera back to you. You stifle a laugh as you hear Colby walking around, being a goofball. Honestly you wouldn't mind being found first but obviously you weren't going to give up that easily.

Listening intently you hear Colby getting closer, saying he heard laughter. You realize that he must have heard you laughing. You look into the camera with wide eyes and think about holding your breath. Somehow you just feel giddy and excited about playing this game, almost forgetting that you're in Geelong Gaol.

Too scared to talk and expose your hiding spot you put a finger to your lips and shake your head. There's no way I'm going to make it that easy on him.

It's almost impossible to not laugh as you hear Colby begin sniffing around audibly like a dog sniffing a trail. Luckily you hardly ever wear perfume so he wouldn't be able to actually 'sniff you out.'

The camera in your hand is still focused on you. You hold your breath as you hear his footsteps inching closer and closer.

______________________________________________________________

Aaaaand, that's part 1! I wanted to break it up because it was getting a little long. Let me know how it is so far!

[iateyourparents]

hide and seek | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x fem!reader

summary: you’re scared and colby doesn’t want to loose a game of hide and seek.

warnings: haunted place, use of y/n, bad writing and grammar (sorry, english isn’t my first language)

an: the new video inspired me so ta da!! i changed few things so dw if something isn’t like in the video.

You could feel excitement raising in your chest while exiting Colby’s car in front of a gate of Geelong Goal Museum.

You read few articles about this place and you couldn’t wait to start investigating it.

You knew you would probably change your mind about being excited quickly when first interaction with something will happen but that’s something to worry about for later.

You, Colby and Sam made your way towards five boys already waiting for you next to gate with tour guide.

You all said your hello’s and tour guide guided you to place where Sam and Colby had first surprise for their guests. You already knew their plan and couldn’t wait for the boys’ reaction.

“Okay, so before we start investigating we have a surprise for you.” Sam stated looking at the boys.

“Already?” sighed Josh with fake annoyance.

“Yeah, we’re gonna play hide and seek in the Australia’s most haunted prison!” Colby said with excitement which made you giggle. Colby looked at you from behind a camera and send you a big smile before addressing boys and viewers.

“So Sam and I gonna rock paper scissors for who’s a seeker.” they did few tries before Colby won and decided that Sam will be a seeker.

You were glad because you already knew you wouldn’t be able to hide on your own here, you would be too scared.

“Alright, I’m gonna wait here and you have two minutes to hide.” Sam explained and you all nodded.

Colby caught your hand in his and started running which forced you to follow him. You gladly did that.

„Neither me or Y/n are loosing today guys.” Colby whispered to the camera while you two passed Narrator.

Unfortunately, Colby’s hiding place was already taken.

“Let’s go upstairs, to the gymnasium like room. It’s shouldn’t be obvious.” you offered and you could see smile on Colby’s face.

“Yeah, that’s good idea!” he kissed your head “My smart girl.”

You were sure you flushed at his compliment but you decided not to comment and just climbed upstairs.

Few seconds later you found perfect space to hide and you two settled in.

“Okay guys, we’re winning this.” you smiled at the camera “There’s literally no chance anyone could see us here.”

“Yeah, the only thing that could actually give us away is echo so we have to be really careful to not make any louder noises.” Colby added and you nodded.

Soon you could hear Sam talking to viewers while looking for everyone.

But that wasn’t the only thing you could hear.

There was footsteps like sound. And it wouldn’t be anything special if it wasn’t literally next where you two were seated, and where no one was standing.

Your eyes widened while looking at Colby, who also hearing the noise looked at you. You could feel the squeal wanting to get out of your throat in panic but you tried to fight it off. Colby definitely noticed your struggle and side hugged you while making quiet shh sounds into your ear and explaining situations to the camera.

“Don’t panic, I’m with you.” he said after he placed still working camera next to him. Colby started drawing circles on your back with his hand “It’s nothing. Probably something friendly.”

You were nodding into his chest while holding your hand to your mouth to make sure nothing comes out.

That was before next sound.

You could hear quite loud giggle in the same room and your mouth already opened as if to scream but Colby’s lips quickly found yours just before anything could come out, successfully silencing you.

“Sorry, baby, but I’m not loosing today. And I totally love shushing you this way.” Colby whispered into your lips after a kiss with a smirk. You giggled quietly almost forgetting all about the girl’s giggle.

“I don’t mind it either.” you confessed and took the camera from where it laid next to Colby’s legs “So I think camera caught the laugh.” you whispered “It was so creepy. Pray for us, or rather me, to come out of here alive and without a heart attack.” you smiled at Colby’s quiet laugh.

Apparently, kissing was excellent method of silencing you so Colby used next few weird sounds as a excuse to kiss you in case you were about to scream. You were sure that at least two of the sounds he ‘heard’ weren’t real and he just wanted to kiss you but you didn’t complained.

“And what was that for?” you asked after he randomly placed few pecks on your face “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Me neither.” he shrugged “Just wanted to kiss you.” he smirked placing another kiss on your nose.

You opened your mouth to respond but a voice interrupted you.

“Alright, Colby, Y/n! You won!” you heard Sam shouting and you stood up with big smiles on your faces. You quickly placed a kiss on Colby’s lips and you two went downstairs.

[booksandwords]

For as long as human beings have been dying, they have been turning into ghosts. Or maybe they haven't. That's the great thing about ghosts: nobody knows if they're real, so they are endlessly entertaining, like Bigfoot or Elon Musk.

Ben Pobije, 100 Tales from Australia’s Most Haunted Places

[trenchcrows]

??? like what? you're arresting 3yo's around here???? that's crazy man, why don't you try touching grass

how are people supposed to take australian history seriously sometimes

[lieslab]

A flicker of hope

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Summary: Skz comforts you after an unfortunate incident with your older sibling.

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort

Word count: 8.6K

A/N: To whoever requested this, I hope you can find some comfort in this. I might have gone a little overboard here and there, but in some of them, it felt necessary. Please take care of yourself <3

TW: Mentions of verbal and physical abuse.

_ _ _

Bang Chan:

You knew things weren’t going to work out in your favor when you revisited your family’s house for the holidays. It was supposed to be a time of joy and a time filled with laughter and cheer. However, when you continued the trek back to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, you were blinking back tears. 

You tried your best, really you did. You ignored your older brother’s insults throughout dinner. You tried not to let him dampen the light-hearted mood, but as the insults grew worse overnight, it became more and more difficult to ignore them. 

His teeth gnashed and he spat venom your way. You shouldn’t have been surprised because this wasn’t the first time it happened. Whenever you headed back home to celebrate the holidays, you silently pleaded for it to be different, but it never was. 

This year was different because you had a boyfriend. When Chan invited you to celebrate the holidays back in Australia with his family, you accepted the invitation; but when it came to your family, you didn’t bother asking him. Chan was protective and you knew any insult your older brother would throw your way would backfire. You weren’t great at confrontation and the last thing you wanted was for the holidays to escalate into a full blown fight. 

So you didn’t bother asking Chan and you knew it bothered him slightly. When you put on nice clothes to head home, you told Chan your family could be a little much. He laughed at your words and you forced yourself to smile in response, but that smile never reached your eyes. 

Everything had been going great until the end of dinner. You began helping your mother put away leftovers and she left to go to the bathroom. Your brother waltzed in after she left and began asking you about your boyfriend. There was no way you were going to tell him who you were dating. 

It began to escalate and when you tried to ignore him, he reached out and gripped your wrist. Sharp nails dug into your delicate skin. His teeth gritted and his dark eyes narrowed. 

“I bet you’re making that boyfriend of yours up. Have you seen yourself? Who could ever love you?” 

You tried to pull away, but his nails dug in tighter. He continued to spew quiet insults while your father watched a football game in the living room. He only stopped when your mother reappeared out of the bathroom. Annoyed that he was interrupted, he rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the living room. 

Your mother paid no mind to your brother’s antics and you went back to helping her put leftovers away. It didn’t take you long for you to bid a farewell to your mother and your father before you hurried back home. 

The chilly air nipped at your skin along the way. The spot where your brother grabbed you began to pulse as a bruise formed. You gently massaged your wrist trying to ignore your brother’s words, but they haunted you. Self doubt began to seep into your soul. 

Hastily, you fumbled to place the key into the door lock. Your hands shook as you gripped the knob after unlocking the door and turning it. With a loud creak, the squeaky hinges squealed, sounding off your presence to your boyfriend. 

You shut the door behind you and relocked it. Your eyes darted around the area, but Chan was nowhere in sight. You kept your guard up not wanting to speak to him right now. You wanted to go to the bathroom and attempt to pull yourself together before greeting him. 

You were half-way there before Chan found you. His sparkling eyes met yours. A dimpled smile stretched across his face. “Hi, baby! How was your family dinner?” 

You pulled your eyes away from him and walked around him as you muttered a response about it being fine. Chan frowned at your behavior. Usually, you were happy to see him, but today you were different. Something seemed to be off. 

He reached out and gently grabbed your wrist to stop you. You instantly yelped and jerked your wrist away. Chan’s eyes widened in shock at your response. You tugged your wrist back towards your chest protectively. 

The long sleeve black shirt you were wearing covered your wrist. At least, it did until you pulled your arm up against you. Your brother’s grip caused capillaries to burst. Your wrist was dusted with darkened purple fingerprints and red crescents from where your brother dug his nails. 

Chan gently pulled your hand back towards him. He moved your wrist around carefully while observing the injuries. His delicacy was enough to make tears appear in your eyes. You tried to blink them away, but he already saw them. 

“What happened?” He asked. His eyes found yours with a face full of concern. “Did someone grab you?” 

“It’s okay. My brother got mad and grabbed me. I’m fine, I promise.” 

His face fell. “He grabbed you hard enough to leave bruises and scratches? Baby, nobody should be grabbing you, let alone grabbing you enough to cause this.” He went back to examining your wrist. 

“He just gets angry sometimes.” 

“Does he always do this?” 

“Not always, just when he’s mad.” 

Chan pulled you into his arms and you melted at his comforting presence. “Next time you have a family dinner, I’m coming with you if your brother is there.” 

“But Chan I-” 

“No buts. Nobody is allowed to put hands on my significant other. Got it?” 

When you nodded, he let out a sigh of relief. He planted a kiss on the top of your head. His arms squeezed around you tighter. “Nobody touches the love of my life unless it’s to smother them with affection.”  

_ _ _

Lee Know:

When Lee Know unlocked the door to your shared apartment and opened the door, he froze at the sound of arguing. Somewhere in the distance, your voice sounded. He shut the door quietly and paused to listen. 

“All you do is nag! This isn’t your life! Stop telling me what to do! Oh, really? Real mature. Fuck you too!” 

He just came home from dance practice and was soaked with sweat. Before he did anything, he was planning to shower, but the plans changed when he heard your voice. Like a cat, he silently stuck to the shadows and crept closer to your shared bedroom. The door wasn’t fully open, but there you were perched on the edge of the bed. 

Your eyebrows were furrowed in anger. An arm was crossed over your chest while the other held the phone up against your ear. Your jaw clenched as you listened to the person on the other end. He stifled a small chuckle as you rolled your eyes. 

He didn’t want to bother you, but he wanted to catch your attention to let him know he was there. Using a few fingers, he pushed on the door and opened it a few inches. The sudden soft squeak caused you to glance over. 

When your eyes met his, he stared at you curiously. He curled three fingers around his palm and pretended to hold a phone to his ear. Along with it, he raised an eyebrow to ponder the question of who you were talking to. You responded by holding up a finger to let him know you needed a moment. 

On the other end of the phone, your older sister was bickering non-stop. Everything in your life seemed to be wrong. No matter what you did, you could never seem to please her. You should have known when you answered the phone, this time wouldn’t be any different. 

“I’m hanging up the phone now. No, I’m not going to continue talking to you. You know what? I really don’t care.” Without another word, you hung up the phone and threw the device behind you onto the bed. 

“Who was that?” Lee Know asked. 

“My older annoying sister. You know when you have siblings, you expect them to be annoying, but it’s completely different when they just keep verbally attacking you. I can’t do this right, I can’t do that right, blah, blah, blah.” You let out a sigh. “It’s just never-ending.” 

Lee Know paused and blinked a few times. Being an only child, he never grew up with siblings. With his band, it felt like he only had a singular older brother. Sure he joked with Chan and the two of them bickered and screwed around, but he could never recall a time when he purposely tried to bring Chan’s mood down in order to hurt his feelings. 

Even with the younger guys, sure he picked on them and teased them, but he loved them too. He bought them gifts and spent time with them. He cooked them meals on bad days and sure he got on their nerves at times, but none of them had ever bad-mouthed him out of anger or spite. 

“Is your older sister always like this?” He walked closer to you and sat down at the edge of the bed. He made sure to leave a few feet between the two of you. 

“Yeah. Even when I succeed at something, I’m not praised. It’s just nothing, but verbal disappointment or her going ‘well when I was your age.’ We keep fighting and it’s getting really annoying. I try to get along with her, but it seems to be impossible these days.” 

“I know you’re family, but you don’t have to talk to her if it hurts your feelings. You shouldn’t be getting your feelings hurt all the time if you’re family.” 

You let out a sigh, “I know I should stop answering her phone calls, but I feel bad.” 

“It doesn’t make you an awful person to have boundaries.”  He reached out and placed a hand on your thigh. “You won’t get along with every family member sometimes. Sure, you might be born into a family, but that doesn’t mean you have to continue talking to them if they hurt you.” 

“I know,” you responded. A frown filled your face as your eyes hit the floor. “I just don’t want to be considered an asshole.” 

“You don’t wanna join the asshole club? Why not? I’m in it.” 

“Minho!” You playfully slapped his shoulder. 

His eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned over towards you. You moved away from him already aware he was planning something. Before you could get off the bed, he pulled you towards him and began to tickle you. 

You squirmed and wiggled as his fingertips brushed up against your torso. Laughter fell from your lips. A grin appeared on his face before he moved his arms up to your armpits. Desperate to get away, you jerked to the side, but to no avail. 

His fingers continued to terrorize you. You squirmed, but a forearm wrapped around you and pinned you to his lap. His fingers dug further into your side which only caused you to laugh harder. 

“O-okay!” You sucked in a sharp breath. “Stop tickling me before I piss myself!” 

He pulled away instantly. “See? That’s called creating boundaries. Not too difficult, now is it?” 

You shook your head and let out a sigh. Your body was warm from squirming around so much. Your shoulders slumped as you let your head rest along his shoulder. “Way to go, now I need to shower.” 

“That was my plan all along. Now you’re sweaty and you’re morally obligated to join me in the shower.” 

You groaned and rolled your eyes. 

He grinned again. “Welcome to the assholes’ club. We’re really glad to have you join us.”

_ _ _

Changbin:

After dating for months, Changbin was pretty good at understanding the in’s and out’s of dating you. He knew what made you laugh and what made you cry. He knew your favorite things and your dislikes. Best of all, he knew when you were lying to him. Unfortunately, you didn’t know this. 

As your eyebags grew and you began to push away the snacks Changbin offered you, he knew something was wrong. He even asked what had you so down, but you brushed him off with a soft smile. You reassured him that everything was okay, you were just in a brief funk. Not wanting to upset you, he took you at your word, but he never stopped keeping an eye on you. 

That was last week and at the beginning of this week, you looked drained. Once again, Changbin made sure you were okay, but you brushed his worries aside. “It’s just the cold weather,” you smiled as you said. “I’m always like this around this time of year.” You struggled with seasonal depression, but never to this extent. 

His worry for you only grew. Sitting on the edge of your bed, he waited for you with his hands clenched together. His knee bounced up and down while he waited for the shower to turn off. You disappeared into the bathroom and left your phone on vibrate in the middle of the bed. 

Changbin had been ignoring it, but over the past few minutes, it vibrated numerous times. He began wondering if the scenario was an emergency. The two of you had each other’s phone passcodes, but you rarely went on each other’s phones. You only used Changbin’s phone to play games occasionally. 

Sometimes he’d think he’d be nearly finished up at the studio and ask you to come over. You’d show up and usually find him focused and working on a completely different task after getting distracted. He’d give you his phone and let you play a few games he downloaded specifically for you. 

On the other hand, you’d sometimes steal his phone while he was sleeping and take selfies of yourself. Other times, you’d angle the phone in unflattering positions and take photos of him that he’d find later. The two of you found it amusing and it never hurt anyone. He deleted the photos of himself and kept the photos you took of yourself. 

When your phone vibrated again, he couldn’t help it anymore. Curiosity mixed with anxiety and the grueling combination led him to typing in your passcode. He scrolled down your notifications and paused when he saw there were multiple unread text messages from your older brother. 

Alarmed that there was a family emergency happening, he clicked on the notifications. He expected panic from your older brother, but he didn’t expect text after text filled with insult after insult. He scrolled up on the messages and his eyes widened in shock. 

Vile insults and death threats filled the screen. He continued scrolling up, up, up. You never responded to the insults, but you must have been reading them because your brother mentioned you were leaving him on read. Changbin kept scrolling trying to figure out when these text messages first started, but they were endless. 

The shock was replaced by an instant anger. He scrolled back down and let his thumbs fly across the screen frantically. They were supposed to be your older sibling. How dare they turn around and treat you like this? What happened to the older sibling being a role model? It didn’t take long before a text message came back. 

‘I can’t believe my younger sibling is so weak, they can’t fight their own battles. How pathetic. How does it feel to be dating a loser?’

The response nearly sent Changbin over the edge. The only thing that brought him back to reality was the sound of your voice. He glanced up to find you wrapped in a towel. 

“What are you doing?” You asked. 

Changbin suddenly turned the phone towards you. “How long has this been going on?” 

Your heart sank as you recognized the thread of messages your older brother sent you. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “A while,” you managed to respond. 

“Have you been reading these?” 

Your head lowered in shame as you weakly nodded. 

“Why are you putting yourself through this mental torment? You’re beautiful and this,” he held up the phone. “This is pathetic on your brother’s end. Is he really so miserable that he attacks you every single day?” 

You shrugged in response. Changbin glanced down at your phone and navigated his way through the phone until he found the block button next to your brother’s contact. After blocking him, he deleted the string of text messages. 

“Come here,” he held his arms out towards you. 

You padded towards him silently. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. “How dare they insult the love of my life. I can’t believe he’d do something like this.” Changbin scoffed, “this is why you’re the better sibling.” 

A faint smile tugged on your lips. 

“And for your punishment,” Changbin announced. “You get to let me cuddle you for the next hour and I get to tell you all the things I love about you.” 

“But I need to get dressed,” you pointed out. 

“I don’t care, it can wait. Now where do I begin? Your beautiful smile? Your infectious laugh? Oh, I love your laugh!” He giggled and leaned back which caused you to fall on top of him. “Get comfortable baby, you’re gonna have a long night.” 

_ _ _

Hyunjin:

“Hyunjin, no!” 

“But I need it!” 

“That’s the fourth thing you’ve picked up in the past two minutes. Put it down!” You glanced back down at the list in your hand. 

Hyunjin placed the object down, but instantly picked another one up. “Oh, what about this?” 

“No.” 

“You’re not even looking!” He whined. 

A small smile appeared on your face at your boyfriend’s antics. The two of you were grocery shopping like you did every week. For whatever reason, Hyunjin was antsy today. Like a toddler, he kept touching everything on the shelves and then debating if he wanted to buy the item or not. 

You glanced down at the list with furrowed eyebrows before putting your attention back on the grocery cart. You looked back to the list and back to the cart. “Since when are silly straws on the list?” 

“Since I saw them in the last aisle. Look! That one is in the shape of glasses and it’s red! Do you have a problem with having fun?” 

“They always have a problem with having fun. They’re absolutely no fun. Try growing up with them,” a voice suddenly cut into the conversation. 

Your heart dropped as you spun around and came face to face with your older sister. Hyunjin glanced between the two of you confused before he spoke up. “You never told me you had a sister.” 

“They’re probably embarrassed because I’m the better sibling. Once you learn about me, being friends with them seems pointless. You’re really attractive. Who are you anyway?” 

“Their boyfriend,” Hyunjin suddenly frowned. 

You seemed to unconsciously curl up into yourself while your sister talked. 

Your sister instantly laughed at Hyunjin’s comment and shook her head. “That’s a good one, but they could never pull someone as good looking as you, so who are you really? A friend? You could do so much better. I mean, are you kidding? They’re practically a pig.” 

You dug your nails into the list you were holding. Your fingers turned pale as you clenched the pen. Your sister stared down at you with amusement. “You should entertain us. Go ahead and give us a good oink.” 

Hyunjin’s mind blanked. He couldn’t comprehend that anyone, let alone your older sister, was treating you like this. When you didn’t respond, your sister stuck a finger out and poked your stomach. “Have you been gaining weight recently?” She frowned. “It does kinda look like it.” 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Hyunjin suddenly snapped. His face was plastered with an obvious disgust as he stared at your sister. “Are you always like this?” He wrapped his hand around yours. “Just go away and leave us alone.” 

Before your sister responded, Hyunjin gently grabbed your wrist with one hand and pushed the cart away with another. He shook his head and began mumbling beneath his breath. “Who the fuck says things like that about someone? What a bitch.” 

He glanced over when he realized you weren’t speaking. Humiliation coursed through your body. There was a reason why you never mentioned your older sister. Your eyes hit the floor while you let Hyunjin lead you. 

He made sure your sister wasn’t in sight before he stopped the cart and used two fingers to lift your chin up towards him. “Hey, are you alright?” 

You blinked trying to get rid of the tears. You pulled your head away from him. Insecurity bit into you as you stepped away. “I’m okay. I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

“Look at me.” 

You paused and slowly glanced up at him. He pushed a piece of stray hair out of your face. “I hope you know none of what she said is true. It sounds like she’s pushing her own insecurities onto you. You’re very beautiful, you know?” 

You shook your head and lowered your gaze again, “but she’s right.” 

“I drew you,” Hyunjin suddenly blurted out. 

You glanced up confused and he paused. A hand went to the back of his neck. “It was going to be a surprise for your birthday next month, but I have a sketchbook filled with drawings of you and your favorite things. I’ve spent countless hours on it trying to get every detail right. I can show you it when we get home.” 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” He shrugged as he smiled. “I love you. Seungmin calls it an obsession, but I prefer the term admiration.” 

Your heart warmed as you stared at him. Butterflies began swarming your stomach. The cold frost your sister’s words caused began to melt away. Without a word, Hyunjin pulled the list from your hand. 

“Oh, looks like we have to get cinnamon and then we’re finished.” He pulled the list away, glanced around, and reached up to place a container of cinnamon in the cart. He looked back at you and tried to hide a grin. “Whoever makes it to the cash register last buys the silly straws?” 

“You’re on.” 

“Okay, I’ll take the cart. On the count of three?” He clamped onto the cart and faced down the end of the aisle. 

Thankfully, it was void of people. 

“You’re on.” 

“Okay, one.” 

“Tw-” Before you could finish, Hyunjin took off with the cart. 

Your jaw dropped in shock and the last thing you saw was a dramatic turn of the cart around the corner with Hyunjin’s hair flapping in the breeze; his high-pitched gleeful giggle echoing in your ears. 

_ _ _

Han:

Han hummed the new song lyrics he came up with over and over again. He already had an idea for the beat and he had been texting Chan about it until he stepped inside your shared apartment. The unfamiliar car in the driveway made him a little anxious. 

You hadn’t mentioned having any friends over, so perhaps it was a last minute thing. Before grabbing his keys, he tried the door and to his surprise, it swung open with ease. Usually, you lock the door after someone comes in due to safety reasons. You must have forgotten to do it today. 

Han pushed the door shut, turned the lock behind him, and placed the tip of one sneaker along the back heel of the other. He was about to slip out of the shoe when the loud sound of skin hitting skin caused his head to jerk up. His eyes darted around the area searching for you, but you weren’t around. 

Heart heavy with worry, he left his shoes on and headed towards the sound. There was a grunt and another sound of skin hitting skin. Han rushed towards the kitchen to figure out the cause faster. He called out your name on the way, but there wasn’t a response. 

Walking into the entryway, he paused as he saw your older brother towering over you. You were on the floor with a hand pressed up against your cheek. Your brother’s lips moved, but Han didn’t know what he was saying to you. He couldn’t hear it over the sound of his ears ringing. 

“What the fuck do you think your doing?” He growled. His eyes narrowed into deadly slits when his eyes landed upon your brother’s. 

“Teaching them a goddamn lesson!” Your brother snapped back. 

“Get out of our fucking apartment before I call the cops for assault!” 

He rolled his eyes and began to walk away from you, but not before he blew a mouthful of spit down at you. On the ground, you flinched as warm saliva landed on the side of your cheek. You used your sleeve to wipe it away. 

Seeing red, Han lunged towards your brother. He grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked him towards the living room. Your brother stumbled along as Han dragged him. Without a word, Han jerked the front door open, popped the screen door, and shoved your brother outside. 

“And don’t come back or else!” He yelled before slamming the front door shut and locking it. 

In the kitchen, you were trying to recover from the beating your older brother gave you. When you heard a knock at the door, you thought it might have been Han home early. Sometimes he forgot his house keys. When you opened up the door, you tried to shut it, but it was too late as your brother forced himself inside the house. 

Once Han came back to the kitchen, he wasted no time grabbing the ice pack from the freezer. He fell to his knees beside you and gently pressed the soothing ice against your throbbing cheek. “Do I even want to know why your brother was in our apartment and beating you up?” 

“Because he’s a dick,” you mumbled in response. “He thinks I’m the reason his girlfriend broke up with him even though I’ve never talked to her before. He’s a piece of shit.” 

“You can say that again. Are you okay?” Concern flooded Han’s face. “Do we need to take you to urgent care or something?” His hand came up to cup the side of your face. His thumb gently brushed across your cheek. 

“I’ll be okay, it’s just a few bruises.” 

Han nodded, stood up, and carefully helped you to your feet. His arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Come on, my treat. We can eat in tonight and watch that new anime you were telling me about yesterday.” 

“Really?” 

“I think it’s the least I can do for you right now.” He led you over to the couch. “If anything starts hurting more, let me know. I’ll get you to urgent care or a clinic or something.” He plopped down on the couch and pulled you into his arms. 

“Thank you.” 

“I’ll do anything for you, baby.” 

_ _ _

Felix:

Felix knew your older sister could be a pain in the ass. You warned him beforehand, but he took your words with a grain of salt because surely she couldn’t be that bad, right? When he walked into your family’s house and you introduced her, he thought you might have been pulling his leg. 

Your older sister was kind and soft-spoken. Her eyes sparkled beneath the warm light in the dining room. She helped serve dinner and struck up a conversation with Felix. You watched the two of them interact out of the corner of your eye. Your stomach churned with jealousy as your sister laughed and stuck out her hand and placed it on Felix’s shoulder. 

Felix could be a little naive at times and usually it didn’t bother you, but today you weren’t sure how you could get through family dinner without beheading your sister. You tried to ignore it, but as the evening went on, your sister continued hanging around your boyfriend. She’d tell jokes and get him to laugh. Her wandering hands would find a way to touch his body. 

Felix didn’t mind her touch. After all, he liked touching people too and she was your sister. You admitted you liked physical touch, so maybe your sister did too. When it felt like her touch lingered for too long, Felix would pull away. He’d adjust his position and slip away from her. 

When your sister sat on the other side of Felix at the dinner table, you tried not to let it bother you. You forced yourself to cut the steak in front of you and swallow the overcooked meat your mother made. However, when you saw your sister’s hand touch Felix’s thigh from the corner of your eye, you dropped your knife. 

The loud clatter caused your family members to look up. Felix glanced over at you concerned. You mumbled an apology and began cutting back into the steak. Beside you, Felix shifted and scooted away from your sister to look over at you. It didn’t take him long to realize you were upset. 

“Not a surprise they dropped their knife, they’ve always been a klutz. Like that time they fell at their 13th birthday party or the time they tripped over their own feet and broke their elbow. Speaking of birthdays,” your sister perked up, “remember that time when you turned sixteen and nobody showed up?” She let out a laugh. 

You gritted your teeth and cut back into your steak trying to ignore her. Your mother chuckled at the memory. “I remember that year, you went all out and planned everything and nobody showed up. You poor thing,” she shook her head. “You never planned another birthday party after that.” 

“Nobody showed up to your birthday party?” Felix frowned. “Why not?” 

“Because they’re an obvious loser,” your sister commented. “Such a loser that they don’t even celebrate their birthday anymore, right?” Your sister glanced over at you. Amusement sat on her face. 

You weakly nodded your head. 

Felix’s face fell, “is that why you’ve always refused to tell me your birthday?” 

Your sister snorted. Felix raised an eyebrow and looked over at her. “What? Why is that so funny?” 

“They were a mistake anyway. Our mom even says so, right Mom?” 

Your mother’s cheeks turned a darkened red across the table. She meekly nodded her head. “I wouldn’t say it was a mistake, but it was an unplanned pregnancy.” 

“A one night stand gone wrong. Nobody even knows who their real father is. What a shame,” your sister’s voice was filled with sarcasm. 

Felix sat taking the conversation in without a word. Your eyes were burning holes into the white table cloth. You suddenly pushed yourself away from the table. “I’ll be right back, I’ve gotta use the restroom.” 

As you left, you caught a glimpse of your sister slinging her arm around Felix’s neck and shoving herself closer to him. You disappeared inside the bathroom and locked the door behind you. You stared at your reflection in the mirror with glassy eyes. You blinked rapidly and fanned your face trying to keep the tears away. 

When you opened the bathroom door a few moments later, Felix was right there staring at you. You raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t respond. He just held an empty hand out to you. You hesitated before taking it and let him lead you back towards the kitchen. 

You were barely listening as Felix explained he wasn’t feeling well and needed to head home because he didn’t feel great. Your sister seemed disappointed, but your mother understood. The two of you left your half-eaten food behind as Felix led you out of the house. 

Once you were outside, he pulled you away from it. “I’m sorry,” the words flew out of his mouth. “I’m sorry you saw your sister do those things to me and I didn’t stop it. I didn’t want to cause a huge scene.” 

“It’s okay,” you responded. 

He shook his head, “no it’s not. It’s not okay and it shouldn’t have happened. I didn’t want to cause issues, but now I see that I should have. Are you really okay?” He pulled you closer by your waist and looked at you with concern. 

“I’m fine,” you reiterated. 

“Can I know when your real birthday is?” He asked curiously. 

You hesitated, but Felix waited for your response patiently. He looked at you like a lost puppy dog. It’s not like you could keep it hidden anymore anyway. He could always easily ask one of your family members. 

“It’s tomorrow actually.” 

“Tomorrow?” His eyes widened. “Oh my god, it’s nearly seven in the evening. That’s not enough time to plan!” 

“I don’t plan on celebrating it.” 

“But I want to! It’ll be fun! We can make a cake and invite some of our friends and we can ha-” 

You shook your head, “it’s just another year older, Felix. There’s not really anything to celebrate. So I survived another year, big whoop.” 

“Please,” he pushed his lips into a pout. “Please let me celebrate your birthday and create a party you’ve never had before. I’ll make it really fun for you, I promise.” 

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “There’s not really a point to cel-” 

“You lived a full three-hundred and sixty-five days. You survived fifty-two weeks and I think that’s pretty amazing. You made it to this point, so please.” He pushed his face closer to yours. “Please let me celebrate it with you.” 

“You’re not going to invite my mom and sister, are you?” 

“No fucking way!” Felix’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Not after the way they treated you tonight! They can kiss their hypothetical pieces of chocolate cake good-bye.” 

You snorted at his words. 

“Please?” He tried again. “If you hate it, you never have to do it again, I promise. I just want to throw a celebration as a thank you for getting this far. I think your sixteen year old self deserves the birthday party you never got.”

“Fine,” you reluctantly agreed. 

Before you knew what was happening, Felix grabbed your hand and began tugging you away from the house. “Come on! Come on! The store closes soon and I still have so many things to get! I think I might have to call for backup.” 

_ _ _

Seungmin:

“Do we ever get anything in the mail besides junk?” Seungmin grumbled as he flipped through the mail. 

He kept flipping until he found a letter addressed to you. Looking at the return address, he called your name. It didn’t take you long to appear from the kitchen with an apron tied around your waist. Seungmin handed the letter out to you. “Here, this came from your brother.” 

“Really?” 

“I thought you didn’t talk to your brother.” 

“I haven’t for a while.” 

“Maybe it’s important,” Seungmin shrugged before leaving you alone with the letter. 

With growing curiosity, you ripped the envelope open and pulled out the handwritten letter. Your eyes scanned the messy handwriting. Words were scribbled and letters were hastily completed. The further you read, the more you began to frown. 

You and your older brother used to be close until your parents divorced. The separation between them caused hell between every family member. Bitter resentment and betrayal swept through your house. You and your brother liked a different parent more than the other. It often led to fights and the two of you blaming the other parent and sometimes each other for the messy divorce. 

When you left home, you cut contact completely with your older brother, so you weren’t sure how he managed to find your address. As you scanned the letter, annoyance began to wash over you. You were hoping for an apology. Deep down, you missed the relationship the two of you once shared, but now you could see that it was pointless. 

The letter continued to blame you for your parents' divorce and it was riddled with insults. In it, your brother mentioned he fell on hard times and he was blaming you. The divorce was years ago, so you weren’t sure how that led to your brother’s downfall weighing on your shoulders, but apparently it was. 

“Wherever you are, I hope you’re struggling too. I hope you realize how much of an asshole you are. Honestly, the world would be better if you weren’t in it.” 

With gritted teeth, you crumpled up the paper into a ball. You marched out to the kitchen and tossed the ball of hatred into the trash can. Seungmin glanced over at you from the open refrigerator. He raised an eyebrow as he looked you up and down. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

“Just peachy,” sarcasm laced your voice. You turned on your heel, ripped off your apron, threw it on the counter, and headed out of the kitchen. “I’m going to take a walk to clear my head, I’ll be back later.” You left the house without another word. 

Seungmin stayed quiet and wondered what you were so upset about. He didn’t know exactly what happened between you and your older brother that caused you to avoid him, but could it really be that bad? He stuck around the kitchen for a few extra minutes making sure the coast was clear before he retrieved the letter from the trash. 

Pulling the wrinkled words back open, his eyes began to read. The further he read, the more his heart ached. No wonder you left upset. When he was finished, he crinkled the letter back up and threw it in the trash again. He bit down on his lip debating on how to make you feel better. 

If he consoled you, then you’d know he read the letter. The last thing he wanted to do was further upset you. He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. You were awkward when it came to verbal affection. You told Seungmin receiving compliments made you feel awkward. You never knew what the proper response to a compliment was and it made you feel embarrassed. 

After pacing around the kitchen, an idea finally came to Seungmin. He rushed off to the bedroom to get started on it. In the process, he shot you a text that he was heading to the grocery store and he’d be home later. 

In your annoyance and frustration, you ran through the letter multiple times in your head as you rethought about it. There was no need for your brother to go out of his way to make you miserable. Just because he was in a shitty mood, it didn’t mean you wanted to be in one too. 

You never looked at your cell phone. By the time you got back home, you had been on a walk for nearly two hours. You circled town multiple times trying to blow off steam. You didn’t even realize the sun was nearly down until you walked by someone who complimented the sunset to her friend. 

A sigh escaped you as you headed back inside. You began searching for Seungmin and paused when you found him holding a bouquet of flowers and a letter in one hand. Your name was written in fancy font across the front in your favorite color. Your eyes were pulled back over to the flowers. You realized they were your favorite kind. 

“What are you doing?” 

“That letter seemed to upset you, so I made you your very own letter that you can read in your own time. Plus, I got you these flowers. They’re your favorite, right?” 

You nodded and stepped towards him. He handed you the flowers and you took them with a smile on your face. You grabbed the letter from him and glanced at it. “Can I read this now?” 

“Only if you want to.” 

You wasted no time unraveling the envelope and pulling out the inside. A letter sat in Seungmin’s handwriting. In fancy font at the top, he titled the letter:

All the things I love about you. 

“You didn’t have to do this.” Your smile grew wider across your face. “This is really cute.” 

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. You were hurt and I wanted to make you happy. I love you, you know?” 

“I know.” 

“Wow, not even an ‘I love you too?’” Seungmin playfully scoffed. 

“I’m getting there!” 

“Speed it up! Is my love disposable to you? In this case, I’ll take the flowers back and I’ll take back the letter. I’ll even take back the pizza I ordered five minutes ago. I’ll tell the delivery driver to keep it.” 

“No, no, no! I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized. “I love the flowers and the letter and the pizza and I-” 

“You love pizza more than me, don’t you?” 

“Hey, I never said that!” 

“You’re putting me at the last of the list.” 

“I love you!” You blurted out. “I love you so much! I’d die without you.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

As you scowled, he let out a laugh. 

_ _ _

I.N:

“I’ll be right here waiting for you to come back,” I.N promised you. 

“I’ll be really quick, I swear. I’ll go so fast, you’ll barely know I was gone!” 

I.N let out a laugh as he watched you disappear into the maze of bookshelves at your local bookstore. It was Saturday and the two of you were out on a walk. When you realized you were near the local bookstore, you asked if you could stop by just to browse. However, your browsing had turned into book buying. 

You ended up with three books in your hands and I.N offered to carry them while you were on the way to find a fourth. You loved books dearly. Back at your apartment, you had a few bookshelves full of books. You loved the adventure and escapism that words provided you. 

I.N stopped to browse a section of books, but you were itching to go look at your favorite genre. You were bouncing on the balls of your feet so much that I.N let you go on ahead. You apologized, but he insisted. This was your element and you deserved to enjoy it. 

So when you went darting in the other direction, I.N tucked your books beneath his arm. With his empty hand, he pulled out a book on the shelf and flipped it around to read the summary. Hearing a throat clear behind him, he spun around to come face to face with your older sister. 

“Hi,” he politely smiled at her. 

“Hi. What are you doing here? I didn’t think you were the book type?” 

“I’m here with your sibling actually. They ran off to go find another book,” he chuckled remembering how excited you were when you ran off. 

Your sister rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe the two of you are still dating. Don’t you want to find someone better? They’re such a huge dork and live with their head in the clouds. Wouldn’t you want to be with someone more logical?”

“Not really,” I.N shifted the weight of your books suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “I don’t mind it at all. It makes them really happy.” 

Without warning, your sister began to complain about you. I.N watched her with a blank look on his face. He couldn’t believe she was talking about you this way. You hadn’t done anything to deserve to be talked about like this. What was wrong with enjoying escapism? He did the exact same thing with music. 

As your sister continued, I.N’s eyes darted around the nearby shelves. He didn’t want to be rude, but he wanted to leave this conversation as quickly as possible. He couldn’t imagine talking to his younger brother’s significant other in this manner. 

“And if you want me to talk to them for you, I can,” your sister announced. “If you’re looking for a reason to break up with them, I can provide you with multiple reasons. Aren’t you famous? There’s plenty of fish in the sea. You should be finding someone that matches your vibe, not someone who spends their time falling in love with fictional characters.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I.N mumbled. He didn’t plan on it, but he wanted a way to leave the conversation. “I should go find them and get going.” 

“I’m sure you should,” your sister’s sarcasm dripped out like venom. “If you need something, go ahead and call me. Do you need my number? I can gi-” 

“If I need it, I’ll get it from your sibling,” I.N suddenly snapped, annoyed by her arrogance. 

Your sister nodded and disappeared around the corner. I.N let out a sigh of relief. He was happy that she was finally gone. He mumbled something beneath his breath and slid the book he had back on the shelf. He kept hold of the books you were planning on getting. 

On the other side of the shelf, you bit down on your lip trying not to cry. You were coming back with your book and when you spotted your sister with I.N, you ducked behind the next shelf over. You heard the full conversation and it suddenly felt like someone squeezed your heart until it burst. 

You glanced down at the book in your hand. All the excitement bubbling up inside of you had fizzled away. With your head down, you disappeared back to the other side of the store and placed the book back on the shelf. 

It took you a few extra minutes before you gathered the courage to reapproach I.N. 

When he saw you, he smiled. “Hey, there you are! I was just about to come find you.” He glanced down at your hands expecting a book, but he frowned not seeing one. “Where’s the book you were talking about?” 

“They didn’t have it,” your voice came out flat. You reached over and took your books from his hands. 

“Oh. Well, we can talk to an employee. I’m sure someone could order it for you and then we can pick it up when it comes in.” 

You shook your head, “that’s okay. I’m sure I’ll come across it eventually.” 

You walked away from the shelf and I.N followed you. When you reached up with one of your books and began putting it back on the shelf, I.N’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?” 

“I shouldn’t be spending so much money on books.” 

“But you love them,” his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You love buying new books. Plus, you just recently got a pay raise at work, remember?” 

“I should be saving money for a rainy day.” You walked further down the shelves and placed the remaining two books back in their slots. 

I.N studied you confused at your sudden change of mood. You were so happy to come to the bookstore, you nearly dragged him inside grinning and now you looked disappointed and almost sad. He tried not to let your sudden mood change bother him too much. 

“What about the cafe? You always visit the cafe when you come here. I’ll pay for your coff-” 

“I’m not feeling it anymore,” you commented. 

“Oh. Do you want to go then?” 

You nodded your head and I.N slipped his hand through yours. He gripped it tight trying to figure out what the reason was for your sudden change. He let you lead them out of the bookstore and down the sidewalk. A few storefronts away, it finally hit him. 

There was only one reason why your mood must have completely taken a one-eighty change. Of course, you must have heard the conversation he had with your sister. Why didn’t he realize that sooner? He mentally slapped himself still clutching your hand. 

You turned around when you realized he wasn’t moving from his spot. “Are you okay?” You asked, suddenly concerned. 

“Huh? Oh um yeah. Can you stay right here for a moment?” He glanced down at you nervously. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom, so I’ll be right back.” 

You nodded and I.N took back off towards the bookstore. He cursed himself the whole way there. Once he entered, he went back to the shelves the two of you visited and grabbed the books you once had. When he was finished, he headed over to your favorite section to find the book you were rambling about when you walked inside. 

His heart dropped when he realized the bookstore wasn’t missing it like you said. They didn’t have a handful of copies on display, they had nearly half a shelf. He let out a sigh and grabbed one. 

Heading to the register, he paid for the books, still upset with himself. You probably heard him mention he’d keep in mind there might be someone better than you. He suddenly felt sick with himself. No wonder you were so quiet, you probably thought he was going to break up with you. 

When he finished at the counter, he headed over to the attached cafe. He bought your favorite drink and a cookie to make up for it along with a drink and cookie for himself. By the time he walked back outside, you were nervously fiddling with your hands up against the outside of the bookstore. 

When you heard him call your name, you looked up and froze. He hurried towards you out of breath with a plastic bag on one arm, a drink in each hand, and a small bag pinched between his thumb and a cup.

“What are you doing?” You asked confused. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, “I figured out you heard the conversation between your sister and me. I hope you know,” he took in another breath, “I wasn’t agreeing with what she was saying. I don’t want anyone besides you, but I didn’t want to be rude.” 

He handed the cup towards you. You took it with a small smile. You quietly thanked him as you took a sip of the drink. 

“And I got you your books.” 

“What?” Your eyes widened. “Why would you do that? They’re brand new! Do you know how much books cost? Two of those were hardcovers!” 

“I don’t care. You wanted them, so I got them for you. We can go home and put them directly on your bookshelf. I know they’ll fit on the top open shelf perfectly.” 

“You really didn’t have to do this,” you mumbled. 

“I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I like seeing your face light up and when you're happy, it makes me happy too. I love you a lot and I’ll always love you.” 

You thought your heart was going to burst. His smile widened and revealed his dimples. You couldn’t help, but smile back. 

“And when we get home, can I read the one book you got? I glanced at the summary and it looks really good. We can cuddle up in bed and read if you want to.” 

“I’d love to do that with you.” 

“Oh! And I got you a cookie!” He scrambled to open the bag. “You mentioned cookies can cure even the worst kinds of sadness a few weeks ago.” 

“You remembered that?” A fond look grew across your face. 

“Of course. I’ll always remember the smallest things when it comes to you.” 

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Taglist: @fairytaleskiess

Masterlist

[talenlee]

Game Pile: Kentucky Route 0, One of Three Games About America

Script and Thumbnail below the fold!

Kentucky Route Zero is a magical realist point and click game of what I’d normally call Narrative Adventure, which came to kickstarter in 2011, then came out in 2013, 2014, 2016, and 2020, because you can’t have nothing for free, even things you pay for. The game is a text-driven game without any of the trappings of your typical point-and-clicker where you jam a ladder in your pants and try to work out why you want to put green dye in the water fountain. Instead it follows the haunted mind of Conway, a trucky driver and his interactions with small handful of people on a part of the Kentucky Interstate, while he to find the place he needs to do his delivery, despite being utterly lost.

I enjoyed what of Kentucky Route Zero I played, but the thing that stands out to me in hindsight is its sound design. It’s a beautifully defined game, audio-wise, with all sorts of thoughtful foley for its environments, and the way that even the pieces of the interface that Conway interacts with have their own sort of specific authentic sounds, chonks and thunks and ch-zzzzses.

It’s also visually splendid, beautiful in what it tries to represent in the heightened reality of its setting but also the format of a videogame. These places look good from the angle that’s chosen, creating lines of artwork and bars of cages, depending on what you’re focusing on, and by being a fixed-camera story of its type, Kentucky Route Zero takes on traits of theatre, with blocking and careful positioning and timing all making up part of how the story unfolds.

A story I haven’t finished.

See, I don’t feel like playing Kentucky Route Zero Act V.

Sit down, traveller. Let me tell you a story.

There’s a chance you’ve heard this story before. I’ve anonymised it here, not because I think you shouldn’t be able to work out who it is, but because the idea of focusing on the who runs the risk of ignoring the what. Plus, I don’t want to direct anyone to a person who said something stupid and encourage fights. That’s not the important issue.

This is the story of when someone perfectly represented something, and probably never realised it.

You will sometimes hear me talk about the take that ‘there are three games about America,’ with a tone of utter revulsion and derision. This is from an incident back in 2020, when a game developer and advocate for inclusive games, had an opinion, on the internet. This advocate is well-established and has a big audience, but also, he’s crucially, not a white guy, not a Christian guy, and not an American guy. These are factors that play into what he said, which was, in summary, that while Kentucky Route 0 was no doubt phenomenal, he wasn’t interested in playing it right now.

To this, an actual adult responded with:

This is legitimately the worst take you’ve ever had. There are only about three games that are actually American, and this is one of them. Everything else is designed for export. Kr0 is a precious and valuable thing. It is of immense and intense personal importance.

Now, resisting the urge to argue with a tweet, which is just generally a bad practice that leads to doing things like wanting to be on twitter, and setting aside this tweet conflating ‘this is of personal importance to me’ and ‘this should be of importance to you,’ this position describes the idea that there are only three games that are ‘actually American.’

What does it mean to be ‘actually American?’

America is a pretty pervasive presence, if you’re not aware of it. Most people in the world have to know about what’s going on in America. We know about your Presidents and your Senators and your Constitution, to the point where people can be more aware of how your country’s laws work than their own country’s laws. I’ve often seen it held up as an example of how poorly educated people in say, Canada and Australia are that we believe we have, say, a ‘first amendment right,’ but the thing is you have to ask why there is that.

We watch so much American TV.

We listen to American music.

We try to make our news broadcasts look like yours, because that’s what real and legitimate news looks like. We try to retell your stories in our local languages because that’s what real media looks like. Our children sing songs in your accents because that’s the culture that a multi-trillion dollar economy has pumped into the whole world.

America demands we attend their wars and surrender our living to become their dead and when we are done America sells the survivors a cheeseburger.

This is not a remarkable or controversial statement. You must know, this is not even vaguely challenging to know about. Everywhere in the world is replicating parts of the American empire, because America exports and enforces the vision of the American empire. McDonalds may sell curry in India, but it’s very important that the curry being sold is McDonalds curry because that is how you know it’s an American style curry.

What this means is when someone tries to assert there are only really three games about America, that’s a kind of specialised brain rot that requires you to consider games that are very much about America as not being really about America. And thus we see the other thing about America, which is it’s not enough for America to be the most important place in the world that everyone else in the world needs to recognise, but also, most of America is inadequately America for this vision of America. You saw this in the wake of 9/11, and the election of Barack Obama: huge amounts of American media resurged in extolling the values of ‘real’ America, as opposed to the parts of America where the vast majority of Americans lived, which just so happened to paint a lot of marginalised people living in the cities as ‘fake Americans.’

I am not bringing you unique information. This is just obviously true things if you don’t live within the boundaries of an environment that flatters you as the most normal thing in the world. The vast majority of the world is not America. There are eight billion people in the world, more or less, meaning that America is about 4% of the world, and yet, it is catastrophically, overwhelmingly, deleritously the common touchstone for how things are ‘supposed’ to work. This is through media imperialism, which is mostly supported by American companies exporting all their media to foreign markets extremely cheaply.

‘about three games that are actually American.’

This fascinating piece of doofusry still, even now leaves me agog. ‘Actually American.’ Kentucky Route 0 is actually American, you see, as opposed to… what? Is America’s Army one of them? You know, the game financed by the American Army? What about Call of Duty, a franchise that is in part subsidised by American military complex manufacturers? What about Grand Theft Auto, a videogame that tells the rags-to-riches story of American excess in criminality, setting aside the way it’s made by a Scottish company. Actually American, because American doesn’t mean America, it means one tiny little pool of ‘America’ where the speaker can imagine there’s a realness and an authenticity to the America-ness that doesn’t involve all the messy realities of what it is to be America. It’s the towns of hard-working people, that suffer under your particular description of oppression, whether that’s cities full of nonwhite people or corporations bleeding the country dry, always eliding the social cruelties and terribleness of these places, as if giving people money stops them from being bigoted (for example).

This is then used to recruit these poor, superior Americans, the you know, America Americans, whose sufferings are noble and whose authenticity cannot be impeached and they are then used as a defense against criticism of, you know, America. It’s the same speech Charlie Daniels gave about how foreigners may think they could push around Barack Obama (a dude who bombed a lot of shepherds with the most elaborate and brutal military ordinance in the world) but they were going to have a harder time taking on Americans who wrestled alligators, who at this point have exactly zero recorded drone strike kills.

This is because America America isn’t real.

‘Real’ America is a nebulous nothing that you can project whatever you want onto, and which is also not responsible for anything terrible that America does. It’s not the American Empire, it’s not the exporter of culture, it’s somehow purer, better, a sort of individualised folk who are to be protected and extolled, shriven of all the things about America that make it anything but its perfect idealised form of America.

I could go on.

I really could.

This is something that defines the world I have to live in. I speak English. I’m white. I’m from a coloniser state. I should be able to integrate easily and smoothly into the white supremacist capitalist hierarchy of American culture, but we are told, that no, we are not acceptable. We are only valid as long as our differences are invisible. We, a real people, do not get to have opinions on America, because we do not know True America. When you spell colour wrong in a chat message, when your accent isn’t quite right, when you don’t know the difference between junior and sophomore year of high school, then you are shown, you are evinced, and you are made very aware that you are other, you are outside, you are wrong.

And really, there’s no good reason for it. We send our soldiers to America’s wars, we buy America’s submarines, and we sing your songs. Our currency mimics America’s, our culture permeats with America’s, we even have such a crushing inferiority complex about the empire that there’s an academic term for what we feel about our own media compared to the media of the truer, proper empire to which we are vassal.

The term is ‘cultural cringe,’ and it was coined by Henry Lawson, who you, odds on, have never heard of. In 1894, he wrote:

The Australian writer, until he gets a “London hearing,” is only accepted as an imitator of some recognized English or American author; and, as soon as he shows signs of coming to the front, he is labelled “The Australian Southey,” “The Australian Burns,” or “The Australian Bret Harte,” and lately, “The Australian Kipling.” Thus no matter how original he may be, he is branded, at the very start, as a plagiarist, and by his own country, which thinks, no doubt, that it is paying him a compliment and encouraging him, while it is really doing him a cruel and an almost irreparable injury. But mark! As soon as the Southern writer goes “home” and gets some recognition in England, he is “So-and-So, the well-known Australian author whose work has attracted so much attention in London lately”; and we first hear of him by cable, even though he might have been writing at his best for ten years in Australia.

This is imperialism. This is a way in which we have been induced and brought by the empires around us to accept their ways as correct, as the normal, as default. And that is the mindset you must have if you want to look at the breadth of videogames, with their American ideas like health insurance, readily available guns, the importance of freedom, the ubiquity of air travel, the branding and iconography of types of food and the sports metaphors and then say ‘yeah, this doesn’t have anything to do with America, not really.’

Anyway, this thread, this incident, was a big deal at the time, in that there were a lot of people from within the community of game developers and journalists who seemed very happy to line up and get mad at a brown foreigner for being inadequately enthusiastic about the possibility of playing a videogame. But don’t worry, after a day or two, an apology was forthcoming for all of this fracas, by which I mean, the original developer apologised for being so thoughtless as to, again, express honest lack of enthusiasm in a videogame.

For me, this was a kind of break point, where I started just blocking indie devs on sight. I don’t want to know what they’re involved in, I don’t want to promote their work, and I will hold tiny grudges against them that I do not seek to transfer or encourage in others. This was one silly incident in which a lot of people said something silly because they don’t know better, or they’re arseholes.

None of this is fair to Kentucky Route 0. It’s a game with its own intentions and its own perspective. It’s not trying to make this conversation happen. Kentucky Route 0 has been choked and gripped by this position around it, where to talk about an American game, someone put a cross on it that made it the avatar for All Things America. The wild thing to me is that I had, prior to this point, played two episodes of Kentucky Route 0. I thought it was pretty good, and I liked what it did with the negative space of dialogue options – when a character you’re controlling makes excuses, the excuses you choose show you other things you could be making excuses about that you, the player, didn’t know beforehand. That’s some good Narrative Storytelling Design, I like that a lot. But now I can’t really engage with Kentucky Route Zero because the main thing it makes me think about is how this final chapter, meant to round out the game’s story and present a conclusion and a point, became this flashpoint for a lot of people to be very casually racist.

Which kinda poisons the whole thing for me. It’s an authentic thing, I’m sure, it’s a thoughtful thing, too, but the people stepping up to say I should care about it did so in a way that made me hate them.

Any time you see me say ‘three games about America’ I’m talking about this, and the attitude of a particular kind of American that America is, as always, exceptional. It’s real easy to not realise when you’re just voicing your self-centeredness and how easy that is to ignore the opinions of people around you and what they’re saying. This is what I’m talking about when I mention ‘the three games about America.’

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By the way, the three games about America are Crash Bandicoot, Sam & Max Hit The Road, and Bust A Move.