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pascalpanic · 3 years

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Alpha Beta Charlie- A Frankie Morales Story

Summary: Frankie is a lonely man with a big heart. His life changes when a new girl comes into his life.

W/C: 4.1k

Warnings: This one is a little heavy. Lots of language, talk of poor mental health (Frankie has depression and anxiety), Frankie’s recovering from a coke addiction, alcohol is prevalent here, harm to animals, lots of talk of blood and injuries.

A/N: This story is different than I normally write. There’s no reader in the story, this is just a story about Frankie Morales and a moment in his life. Please note that this is darker as it centers around an injured animal. Be warned of that. P.S. some of my friends might see ur names in here :) thank u to all of my friends who helped me pick Charlie’s name, and to @ilikechocolatemilkh who helped me create this whole story!

Frankie Morales is a kindhearted man. Anyone who meets him knows it instantly. He’s got a wonderful laugh that’s warm and inviting, and it’s often on display to anyone who chats with him for more than a few seconds. He’s caring, it’s clear, with big brown eyes that radiate compassion.

His friends would describe him more as an idiot. Frankie, who they call Catfish from their days in the military, insists that they’re the idiots. He’s the voice of reason in their group, making the rational decisions and de-escalating fights within their group.

That’s not to say Frankie is entirely sunshine and rainbows. He’s now several months sober from a long and grueling addiction to cocaine. It ruined him: it took away his pilot’s license, his everything in life. Flying helicopters was Frankie’s passion, but he’s recovering. He’s on the right track.

He had a girlfriend, who became his fiancée, and left him not long after he returned home from a dangerous mission in South America. It didn’t matter anyway; her child, who Frankie had dedicated all of his heart to before the birth, was revealed to be another man’s. As much as she resented him for taking the mission, he resented her for cheating and lying and holding the information back.

So now Frankie lives on his own. He resides out in a more rural town, not far from where Benny has his weekly fights and Will (also known as Ironhead) works with young military recruits. It’s been a couple of months, and it’s hard to be alone. Santiago pops into town once or twice a month, and it’s always the highlight of Frankie’s very being. His best friend brings light and laughter into his life. When he leaves again, Frankie’s small home feels massive and quiet.

He plays lots of CDs. He has bluetooth speakers all around the home and blasts his favorite songs. He’s learned how to cook and clean and has even learned how to bake a decent, basic version of a nice loaf of bread. He works as a mechanic at a shop in his small town’s center, working the odd hours that no one else wants, the hours where others want to be home with their families.

He’d considered different options to make the house more home-like, more welcoming. He tried his hand at gardening, only to find that he had the opposite of a green thumb. He painted the walls a warmer color, then painted them again. He was currently considering changing the colors for the third time. He’d burn candles that he thought smelled nice. He’d hung up a few photos of him and his friends, or his family. Nothing really worked.

A typical night for Frankie held one of two patterns:

-Night A: Frankie gets home from the shop at about 7:30, hands covered in grease and smelling of burnt motor oil. He gets in the shower and cleans up, then either ends up at Benny’s arena to cheer him on, or at the bar with both Miller brothers.

-Night B: Frankie gets home at the same time. He showers to clean himself, simply because he hates leaving smudges over his home. He cooks a nice dinner or orders takeout. He eats it on the couch and watches a new Netflix series. He gets sad and feels alone and drinks a beer, then a few more, to drown the sensation. He goes to bed early and calls into the shop to see if any of the morning shift workers want to go home early, because he can come in an hour or two before his shift. He claims it’s for the overtime pay. It’s really to avoid the loneliness.

Frankie likes patterns. He likes routine. It’s soothing. Maybe it’s a remnant of his military days, where not a second would pass without having a title affixed to the very second he was living in. Predictability made the hurt easier.

Tonight was an A Night. Frankie and the Miller brothers sat at the bar of McCreary’s and talked about everything and nothing at once. Will talked about the new girl he was seeing. Benny made lewd comments. Frankie smacked his arm and ordered another round for the other two, then nursed one beer for the entire night.

Winters were the worst for Catfish. He lived in the South, where snow was uncommon, but the dreary February weather stole whatever energy he could muster up and sent it up to join the gray masses that hung in the sky, yet never shed their raindrops. It gets dark early, another thing Frankie hates. It reminds him of the look on Tom’s face when he died. Of the way his bachelor home never made sounds unless he created them. Of the way the craving for one more hit of that devious white powder felt, the way it scrambled his brain until he thought it was the only thing that could take it away.

This A Night, which also happened to be an especially chilly Tuesday, Frankie drove home from the bar at 12:21. The backroads that lead from the suburbs out to the rolling hills are dark, with a rare streetlight or two illuminating a fork in the road that led to a house. The radio droned on, some old Waylon Jennings song that was threatening to send Frankie into a fit of rage and smash a fist into his dashboard. He turned off the radio instead.

Another car drove the opposite way, far in the distance. He could see the lights approaching, then dim slightly. Frankie turned off his brights, instead allowing the road to be illuminated just by his front headlights. He turns up the heat in his truck as a shiver runs down his spine.

Something is running across the road. Frankie can see it now. It’s far from him, but visible in the other car’s light. He slams on his brakes, his body jerking forward.

The other car doesn’t slow.

He slams his horn several times, for whatever is in the road and the other driver.

The thing doesn’t move.

The car doesn’t slow.

The car and the creature- oh fuck, it’s an animal- collide.

Everything that happens next is too quick. The car stops for a moment. Frankie whips the truck into park and turns on his hazards.

The other car stops for a moment. Frankie can just make out a silhouette inside. He gets out of his truck, eyes wide and frantic. He runs to the animal’s side.

The car drives off.

Dust swirls across the road as the car’s tail lights fade into the distance. Leaving just Frankie and his truck and the mangled mess of fur and blood.

“Fucker!” Frankie screams after the car. “You fuckin’ bastard! You didn’t even check, you motherfucker!”

He gets closer and realizes it’s a dog. Its fur is white and brown and so painstakingly red with its own blood, and it whimpers and cries and Frankie realizes the poor fucking thing is still alive. Whether it’s his caretaking or his military instincts that kick in, Frankie isn’t sure, but before he knows it he’s ripping off his jacket and picking up the poor poor baby, oh you little angel, he coos to it, wrapping it in the denim and setting it in his passenger seat.

It’s still whimpering and crying, and Frankie gets in the driver’s seat and grabs his phone. “Nearest 24-hour pet hospital,” he shouts into it, hands shaking. He doesn’t realize either reaction is happening. It gets the words wrong. “No, fuck,” he groans, shifting the truck into drive and whipping a U-turn. He types in the words as he starts to speed back in the direction of the town. He knows he shouldn’t text and drive and normally he doesn’t, but he’s a fucking former military helicopter pilot, he rationalizes with himself, he can handle this. He finds the directions and types them in and tears start dripping from his eyes.

“Hang in there, buddy, hey,” he says and rubs the poor dog’s big ears as they drive. “It’s gonna be 30 minutes. Think you can hang on for me?” he asks it, not expecting a response. He wants to check the dog’s sex but now is certainly not the time, not while he’s doing 85 in a 60 zone and the dog’s blood is seeping into his denim jacket and his passenger seat.

The tears are flowing freely from his eyes now, his heart breaking. He can feel the animal’s shallow breaths as he drives, and he sobs to himself. “Hang on, buddy. It’s gonna be okay, I gotcha. I’m Frankie,” he introduces himself to the dog, “and I’m gonna take real good care of you. You’re gonna be alright and we’re gonna get you fixed up and back to your owners.”

The drive takes 24 minutes when Frankie is flying down the backroads. Fuck if a cop sees him. Fuck blowing a tire. That can be cared for later, when there’s not a dying creature next to him. A steady murmur of ‘it’s okay’ spills from Frankie’s lips. He’s not sure if he’s saying it to the dog or himself. One hand firmly grips the steering wheel and the other never leaves the animal’s body. He comforts the poor creature, murmuring more reassurances the closer they get.

“Please hang in there for me, cariño,” Frankie whimpers, chewing his bleeding lip. “I gotcha. It’s all gonna be alright, bud.”

When he sees the hospital, he drives a little faster. He pulls into the emergency room area and parks in front of the door, turning on his hazards and running inside. There are a few veterinary nurses inside and they greet him, but their looks turn to fear when they see the denim-wrapped animal. “Please, please, Idon’tknowthisisn’tmydogitwasahitandrunandIpickeditup-”

“It’s alright, sir, come with us. Please breathe and tell us again,” a kind woman tells him with a hand on his arm, rushing him and the dog back. Frankie calms down after a moment and explains what happened. “It’s not my dog, I don’t know whose dog this is, you gotta check it for a chip-” he rambles.

“It’s alright, sir,” the nurse tells him kindly and takes the dog from his arms. Frankie clutches after it and a new woman pushes his arms down. “We’re going to take it back and operate on it. Would you please wait here for us? We’ll come give you updates as we get them,” she tells him, gesturing to the waiting room. He nods. “And is this your dog’s first time here?” She asks.

The tears come back, choking his throat as water falls steadily from his eyes. “It’s not even my fuckin’ dog, man,” he whimpers, worrying his lip between his teeth again.

The woman is still kind. “I see. Please, sit, Mr….”

“Morales,” he manages out.

She nods. “Mr. Morales. I understand you’re worried. Please just wait in here for us and we’ll bring you information when we have it.” He nods softly, grabbing a tissue from the front desk. He wipes his eyes and nose. “My truck is parked right outside, it’s in the way, I’ll go park it somewhere else,” he tells her.

“That’s perfectly fine, sir. You can even leave and come back if you’d like.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her and walk-jogs outside, getting in his car and bringing it around to park.

Frankie enters the emergency room again and sits in a chair. He worries and worries for hours, texting his group chat with the Millers and Santiago. He gives them a play-by-play, but only Santiago responds. He sits awake for another hour, nervously wringing his ball cap.

The dog must be alive, or at least be able to save, he rationalizes with himself. After a while, the worry fades and he falls asleep. Two hours later, no other patients around to disrupt him, he’s woken by the nurse who took the dog back. “Mr. Morales?” She calls out gently.

He jumps awake. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me.” He sits up from his slumped state, readjusting the cap from where it had been resting over his eyes.

The nurse smiles softly at him and sits in a chair across the waiting room from him. “The dog is safe now. We had to amputate her front left leg, and she had a lot of stitches, but she’s stable and looks like she’ll do well.” He lets out a sigh and her smile becomes more genuine. “You told us she isn’t yours?”

She. The dog is a girl. Of course she is, Frankie smiles a little. The smile falls as he remembers the fact again. “No, no. It was a hit and run. I saw it happen, the other guy took off, it wasn’t me who hit her, I’m-”

“Mr. Morales.”

“Right. No, she’s not mine.”

The nurse nods and writes that down. “Well, we scanned her several times. She has no chip, no identifiers at all. Our options now are to send her to some rescue or kennel of some sort, or you can take her home with you.”

His heart breaks at the image of the sweet dog in the front seat of his car going somewhere without daily love and affection. “She’ll come with me,” he answers before he can rationally think about it.

“Wonderful,” she nods, marking that down as well. “She’s looped up now on some drugs. We’ll let her sleep them off for a bit and then she’s all yours. We do have some procedures we’ll need you to follow, for caring for the wound and such. But after that, it should be all good. You’re free to head out now. We can call you when she wakes up.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.” He looks down at his watch and notices how early in the morning it is. “Thanks,” he tells her with a genuine smile, taking off his cap and running his hands through his hair before replacing it.

- From that moment on, Frankie was enamored with the dog. He called in from work when the shop opened bright and early at 6:00 A.M.

“Hey Carol. It’s Morales.”

“You can stop asking if you can come in early, Frank. Just do it,” the woman chuckles on the other line. A loud slurp is audible- it’s the coffee she’s always drinking, the dark sludgy shit that she brews in the break room that Frankie can’t stand but she absolutely adores.

“No, uh. Actually, I was calling in to see if someone else could cover for me today.” He explains the whole story to her, wringing his cap between his hands. “So. I was kind of hoping I could take the day to look for the dog’s owners and care for her.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. “Of course, Frankie,” the older woman says kindly. “You got a real big heart, kid. Real big. That’s awful kind.”

He smiles a little. “Just doing what I can. Thanks, Carol.”

“Keep me posted, Catfish.” The woman hangs up.

Frankie’s in more comfortable clothes now. He didn’t sleep at all once he got home, waiting for the hospital’s call. He distracts himself, cooking a breakfast he only picks at, watching his new series halfheartedly on the couch.

The animal hospital calls him again at 7:30. He gets off the couch immediately and into the truck. There’s a bit of blood on the passenger seat, from where the dog wasn’t immediately covered by his jacket. It’s not a worry, though, he thinks to himself. He’ll get some stain remover and maybe a new and nicer jacket.

When he arrives, they usher him back to a check-up room. The dog is lying down but she wags her tail at Frankie, looking up at him with big brown eyes that could rival his own. “Hey, sweet thing,” he calls softly, and the dog stands and walks over to him. It’s pained, that much is clear, but she’s already adjusting to walking with one less limb. She rests her head on Frankie’s lap and he scratches her ears gently.

Some paperwork is filled out and Frankie leads the dog out to his truck with the leash and collar the hospital provided. He lifts her into the passenger seat and she snuggles in. The scent is familiar to her.

Frankie drives her to a pet store nearby, smiling over at her. She looks at ease with him, relaxed and trusting. Of course she is. This is the man who saved her.

He helps her down once they arrive and leads her inside. Her walking is pained, he can tell. “Aw, honey,” he frowns. There are carts right inside; Frankie sees the immediate solution. He scoops her up and sets her in a cart. Her tongue hangs out happily as they go through the store. “We’re gonna get you all kinds of fun stuff, huh?” He asks, scratching her head.

Frankie spares no expense for the dog. As they cross through the store, the cart fills: bags of food and treats, a new leash, and a pink collar decorated with donuts “because you’re such a sweetie, right cutie?”, doggie bags, and food and water dishes. Finally they reach the toy aisle. “Do you wanna pick your own toy?”

He picks her up and sets her down on the ground, unclipping her leash to allow her to explore the toy aisle. She meanders, sniffing toys here and there, even considering one big bone. A few moments later, she comes tottering back to the cart with a toy in her mouth. It’s a big plush hedgehog. Frankie grins. “Aw, that’s a good one! Good choice, cutie.” He kisses her head as he puts her back in the cart.

They check out and drive home, and Frankie allows her to wander inside. “Welcome home. At least for now. I suppose I should put an ad out for you online.”

The dog doesn’t respond, just wanders around the house, sniffing the furniture warily and looking back at Frankie. Asking if he’s coming. He smiles and leads her to the couch, sitting down on it. “I know they say you shouldn’t let dogs on the furniture, but I think you and I can share.” She jumps up and Frankie praises her, giving her a smooch and earning a big lick in return. “Oh, pretty girl, I think you’ll like it here,” he coos to her. She snuggles into his side with a sigh and Frankie sighs too.

Over the next few days, he posts ads for her, but no one responds. He reaches out to people from the area he was driving in, but no one responds. After Day 4 of searching, there’s no response and he allows himself to sigh in relief. “You’re mine now, baby girl,” he coos to the dog, who’s happily panting and grinning.

During the first week, Frankie tries out different names for her. None of them seem to stick. He wonders if she ever even had a name before. Ada, Lucille, Thea, Sunny, Miki, Zulu, Fox, Pancake. None of them work right for her personality.

It’s not until late one night when Frankie’s coke cravings decide upon a name for her.

It’s 2:24 in the morning and Frankie is quaking like a leaf. The dog is cuddled up into his side on the bed. Wherever he goes around the house, she follows. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s drawing blood. Normally when he’s this anxious, when he yearns to call his dealer, he rides it out by balling his fists so tight his knuckles turn white. But his dog seems to notice.

She rests her chin on his hip, wagging her tail against the mattress with a steady thump. She whines quietly. She knows.

Frankie’s at least momentarily distracted. “Hey, beautiful, what’s wrong?” He asks her, scratching his head and rolling over to pet her. He’s still desperate but the focus shifts from the sensation of one last hit to the feeling of her soft fur beneath his fingers. She sighs happily and snuggles into Frankie’s side, and he starts to cry.

No one has ever needed him. Not his plants: they’re succulents. He deals with them once every other week. Not his former fiancée. She didn’t need him, just liked him for his money and his dick late at night. Not his friends. They had other friends to go to. No, this dog needs him, and it makes his heart feel like it’s going to burst.

Sitting up, Frankie turns on the television. He hits a random button to choose a channel, and Princess and the Frog comes on. He chuckles a little. “How about Tiana?” He asks his dog and scratches her ears. She doesn’t react.

It’s near the beginning of the movie. The relaxing music soothes him as the movie starts. The dog lies with her head on his thigh, happily receiving scratchies from her new father. Her head perks up when she hears a shrill noise from the television: Tiana’s best friend in her puffy pink dress.

“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. It’s just Charlotte.”

Charlotte. Her ears perk up and she looks at him. “Charlotte?” He asks again, and she looks at him in confusion. “Do you like that one? How about Lottie?” No response. “Or Charlie?”

The dog pounces on him with her one front paw and licks his face. Frankie laughs happily scratching her sides. “Is that your name, pretty girl? Is your name Charlie?”

The answer, it seems, is yes.

It’s funny, Frankie thinks. Charlie is the third letter of the military alphabet, after Alpha and Beta.

Before Delta.

She would be, he realizes. She’s more important to him than his Delta Squadron guys. More important to him than the terrible things he did in the military. She comes before Delta.

And that’s how Charlie got her name.

The guys finally came over to Frankie’s house on Night 9 of owning Charlie.

All of the men are dog lovers, and Charlie takes to Benny quickly. He gives her her favorite kind of scratches: one hand behind the ear, one hand on the tummy. “Yeah, that’s a good tripod,” he teases her as he snuggles her.

“Hey man, cut it out,” Frankie frowns and smacks his arm. “She’s insecure about it! Be nice.”

Santiago laughs. “Hey, you know what, Fish? This isn’t what I meant when I said that you should get a girl, but I’ll take it. Especially when she’s such a sweetie- oh hi, beautiful,” he coos as Charlie hops his way and licks his face.

Frankie shakes his head. “Isn’t she a cutie?” He laughs happily as he watches his dog. “I tried posting ads for her, but no one answered. She’s such a sweetheart, potty trained and everything. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Benny grins. “And all because we asked you to get a beer and you caved and said yes.”

“What the hell do you mean caved, Ben? I get beers with you two fuckers three times a week,” he laughs and shakes his head.

He’s been home alone with her all week, but he hasn’t felt as anxious as he normally does. Her companionship is all he needs, the way she snuggles up tight against him, the way her meal schedule motivates him to eat more. He has a purpose now.

After the initial excitement, Charlie finds her place sitting at her dad’s feet, panting happily and looking around the room. “She fits in well,” Will nods and leans over as he scratches her head. “She’s the newest member of our group, I suppose.”

“She’s much less work than Fish. Maybe we replace him with her,” Santiago teases and Frankie flips him off, chuckling softly.

This was a pattern that came to be known as the newly named C Night in Frankie’s head. These are the nights where they order a pizza or takeout and hang out in Frankie’s living room with Charlie. She’s the entertainer of the group, giving the men each some individual snuggles and wandering around the room. She’s funny, flopping onto her back at a human’s feet so that she can get tummy rubs, spending an absurd amount of time sniffing one specific spot on one man’s jeans. They all adore her.

Life improves for Frankie when he has Charlie. He works shorter hours, spends time brushing her fur. He sleeps at better hours and cares for himself better as a result of caring for her.

He takes her on a jog every morning. At first, he was nervous to do it. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to pass those Special Ops fitness tests. The thing that encourages him most is that Charlie is just the same speed as him. She runs along happily on three legs at the perfect pace for Frankie to match.

Frankie lovingly refers to her as his copilot. She loves riding in the passenger seat of his truck, letting the wind from the open windows run through her fur. She gets excited when she hears the word truck and demands that Frankie snuggle her when they’re on a long drive. She even fell asleep on his lap once, with her face resting in the curve of the steering wheel.

Charlie is Frankie’s baby, and Frankie is her favorite human. The two of them are each other’s soulmates, Frankie thinks. His baby girl, his fluffy baby, his cuddlebug. His girl. His one true love is his dog, his Charlie.

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@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pascalpanic

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dansnaturepictures · 4 years

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11/10/2020-Phalarope paradise at Pennington: The 10 pictures in this photoset different to those I tweeted just now

As you may have seen we went to Bushy Park yesterday on our big wildlife watching and photography trip which is a part of a day trip we do every year which I loved and was one of the best times of our year without a doubt. I always try to not do trips like that further afield with so many photos and sightings on a Sunday and have to go to work the next day (even when it’s working from home) it just makes me tired and hard to find motivation for the morning and fully cool down from the trip a bit so after the weather putting us off Bushy last Saturday Bushy was locked in for yesterday. On Friday we learned of the mega bird a Wilson’s Phalarope with Grey Phalaropes at Pennington in the Lymington-Keyhaven nature reserve at the foot of the New Forest. We instantly knew we’d go there today then we didn’t even have to decide. In hindsight I can say that phalaropes do stay around a few days it seems when they do turn up as they are always birds blown in by Atlantic storms on migration and that’s how they end up in Britain they stay a few days to feed up before flying off again. But I have got to say I did just have a little feeling of slight desperation last night as every tweet I clicked on seemed to be have a picture of the Wilson’s Phalarope! Which is remarkable in itself really.

People from Hampshire and far and wide (as we observed in person here today for the latter) were coming to my beloved local and one of my favourite nature reserves and getting criminally close views of this very rare and stunning bird and the Grey Phalaropes that I needed to see for my year list too. I just had in my head that I’d feel maybe a bit bad if I missed it being at one of my spots but I had one of my best times of the year at Bushy so I would never have regretted going there and I would not have swapped it for the world yesterday. And finishing the weekend off at Pennington worked it’s a trip much more suited to a Sunday being half an hour to forty five minutes away from us. And I have a feeling yesterday in terms of social distancing many people would be there. Today it’s a Sunday so perhaps some people do other things and there were not hoards here today and it was easy to socially distance when here today. The feelings of “I want to go and see this” gave me interesting twitcher’s vibes.

So with the strong memories of Bushy still engulfing me in amazement of the experience yesterday I was also so excited to get back to Pennington for the first time since last month on a very sunny afternoon today. I took the first three pictures in this photoset of nice views here today. As we walked down to fishtail lagoon the one that usually always hosts the rare birds interestingly here where the Wilson’s Phalarope had been seen we got binoculars views over the lagoon and noticed a phalarope fly and land by a bank. It was so tall compared the grey and red-necked we are familiar with which the Wilson’s is so we were sure this was the bird.

We then got down to the lagoon on the pathway and walked towards some people. To our delight right beside the path in the channel south of the lagoon was one of the two Grey Phalaropes around! Like we had seen of one further down here in 2017 we got stunning views of it. It really was so close, it did not seem bothered by people at all. It was simply amazing views and I loved watching it swim down the channel. My first of the year.

The Wilson’s Phalarope had flown out into the lagoon so we looked for it. Someone then spotted it by the fence of the lagoon coming into the channel further up. The channel is a flooded bit of ground outside of the fence really. We walked down and were astounded to see it right beside us in the water as it swam in and out of reeds. We got absolutely stunning and remarkable views of it. I took the fourth and fifth pictures in this photoset of this incredible bird. This one wasn’t bothered by people either and we just saw this smashing and beautiful bird so close. It was a dreamlike experience to see a bird like this so close. Special stuff. I was in my element watching it as phalaropes do swim up and back along the channel. It showed off its attractive yellow legs at certain points and got on with what it was doing without a care in the world. It even tried to get back through the fence onto the main lagoon at one point which was interesting to see.

So this is a new bird for me, my sixth this year now only one behind how many I saw last year and level with how many I saw in 2017. It’s my 272nd bird in my life and with the Grey Phalarope my first of the year today takes my bird year list to 186. So my year list is still solidly my third highest ever for amount seen on this date behind last year and 2018, I am only four behind my 2017 total now. But this for seeing a new bird this was something else. The last time I got views this good for a new species I think was my first Crested Tits at RSPB Loch Garten in the Cairngorms in January 2018 and the Barred Warbler at Titchfield Haven weeks before it at the end of 2017. It was telling it was a good view of a new bird as for the pictures I took of it I didn’t use my bridge camera so long distance specialist once but used my DSLR and big lens the whole time it was that close which this camera and lens is so good for usually to see something new now it’s gotta be rare like this was so it’d be a long way away but that’s not always how it works with phalaropes. They are known to be approachable because they can be a bird of the wilderness in their natural range so are less used to humans so seeing them come and behave like this here is quite something.

We walked on up to Keyhaven lagoon and back noting decent numbers of Wigeon and Shoveler which was really interesting to see some coming in for the winter now, we also got chatting to some lovely people as we did for the whole walk and twitch today who pointed out a Peregrine to us the first we had seen for a while. We also took in some great views as the sun came back after going in a bit including the sixth and seventh pictures in this photoset. When we walked back beside fishtail lagoon the Grey Phalarope was still parading up and down in the channel of water so close to us. We took in more stunning views of this beautiful bird that we missed seeing last year but was now my eighth occasion of seeing one, once in 2009 here, twice here in 2017 as well as at Blashford Lakes and Hayling Island oysterbeds that autumn, twice in 2018 on the River Itchen at Riverside Park and here the next day the same day we saw another new bird the Temminck’s Stint and now today. I took the eighth picture in this photoset of this lovely bird. It was so close I had the idea to take some phone videos of the bird.

We walked up to the proper channel of water east of fishtail lagoon where followed by observers the Wilson’s Phalarope had moved to. We got more sensational views of it here coming so close to many of us swimming along and I took phone videos of this too all of which I shared posts of from my Instagram earlier and tweeted whilst out today many people were doing the phone videos it was an interesting quirk of this twitch symbolic as another person remarked of how incredibly close the bird was to us. It was so delightful to watch the Wilson’s Phalarope as the bird swam about in the later afternoon sunlight. A real fantastic autumnal moment and stunning birdwatching one. I took the ninth and tenth pictures in this photoset of the Wilson’s Phalarope. A great vibe and atmosphere we were all so in aw of the bird.

Before we left we saw the Ruff with a white head that we saw here our first of the year in February with another of its kind which was nice I tweeted a picture of that. This ended one of my best and happiest times of the year this weekend and ever. I saw sensational wildlife and views and took so many pictures. The two trips further afield and local complimented each other so well I think. It was two perfect high standard days to follow each other in great weather. Such joyful times I shall never forget this weekend! Thanks so much for sharing it with me and all your appreciation shown. I hope you are all keeping safe and well. Have a nice week.

Wildlife Sightings Summary: My first ever Wilson’s Phalarope, my first Grey Phalarope of the year, two of my favourite birds the Peregrine Falcon and Little Egret, Cormorant, Black-headed Gull, great view of an Oystercatcher and many more, Lapwing, lots of Curlews which was nice, Ringled Plover, Turnstone, Redshank, Wigeon, Shoveler, Pintail, Mallard, Coot, Meadow Pipit, Carrion Crow, Woodpigeon, lots of late Swallows today which was nice to see flying around, Pied Wagtail and Large White butterfly.

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Text

A New Adventure - Pt. 4

Motion of Things to Come

Warnings: spoilers

Masterlist

Read on AO3

A week has passed since you found Arthur. He’s adjusted better than you thought to life inside your home. Over the weekend, you even took him to the grocery store for your weekly trip. You told him if it got to be too overwhelming to let you know and you’d leave and come back another day, but he took it very well. He asked a lot of questions that attracted funny glances from a few people, but he seemed fascinated by it.

He was even more fascinated when a guy on a motorcycle zoomed past you on the way home. Despite it being February and still the middle of winter, it was a warm day. Not unusual for Utah. People always take advantage of the warm weather when it comes around.

You can tell Arthur’s getting stir crazy in your home, being cooped up all the time, spending long hours alone while you’re at work. Sage, your dog, is his only company. You feel bad, but you just can’t risk him getting into trouble.

It’s Friday afternoon and you decide to take him for a walk in the park where you met him. Since it’s at the foot of a mountain, he’s welcome to explore it. It’s not pretty by any terms, mostly just dead grass and some dried up sage bushes, dormant in the winter, but it’s still outdoors.

Arthur’s mood picks up quite a lot more than you thought it would as you walk down the street towards the park. You let him hold Sage’s leash (you’ll let her off once you actually hit the park). Arthur doesn’t stare as much as he did when you first met him.

Despite his frustrations at being cooped up, he’s been sweet and kind to you. You know from playing the game he has a quick temper, but it hasn’t shown. Perhaps he’s trying to keep it down because he knows how much you’re helping him, how much you’ve already helped him. He’s responding extremely well to the antibiotics.

Once you reach the park, Sage goes running off, barking wildly purely for the fun of it. Arthur watches her with a fond smile.

You ask him what he watched on Netflix today while you were at work. He’s long since finished that history series you started him off with and has tentatively ventured into more adventurous shows. He recently stumbled into the Planet Earth series and has found it fascinating. You’ve come home the last few days to find him sitting on the couch with his journal in hand, his eyes staring amazed at the animals on the screen.

He talks about the most recent episode he saw, one documenting the migration patterns of wildebeest in Africa.

After a short period of comfortable silence, Arthur asks you about your job and if you like it.

“It’s alright,” you say. “I’m just a processor now.” You explain what that is. “But I only have three more months to go before they decide if they want me as an appraiser. I have to take some classes if they say yes and then I can start working from home.”

Arthur’s eyes brighten when you say that you can work remotely. He’s probably just happy to know he’ll have a companion that can actually talk back.

When you reach the cave where he came out of, with the funny drawing that ended up being the portal that brought him here, you both stop.

“You ever think of going back?” you ask, fearing the answer.

“Yes,” he says. “But I don’t know if I can. Not unless I wanna die.” When you ask what he’s talking about, he admits that a few days ago, he snuck out of the house and went back to West Elizabeth. Everything was exactly the way it was when he left. His horse was even nibbling on the same patch of grass. However, he said the full effects of his TB slammed into him. It was as though he’d never taken any of the medicine. When he returned here, he was back to healing and he did feel better.

“Guess that means that unless I wanna die, I’m stayin’ with you,” he finishes.

Your stomach does a backflip. Of course, you doubt anything will ever happen between the two of you. He probably finds you weird or is just uninterested in you in that way. Not that you blame him. It’s not like anyone’s ever found you attractive, desirable or even remotely interesting.

“So I guess when it comes to your world, it’s like a Narnia thing,” you say.

“A what?” he says brusquely.

“Nevermind,” you say quickly. You’ll show him those types of movies when he’s a bit more familiar with movies that have a lot of CG and thick plots in them.

You keep walking away from the cave, following the natural trails around the foot of the mountain. Sage looks back on the pair of you every few moments, wagging her tail furiously.

“Shit,” you say, looking ahead. Further up the trail, you see a pair of female deer grazing. Sage isn’t afraid of deer at all. Most dogs probably would be because of their size, but you’ve lived out here since before she was born and you got her as a puppy. She’s used to deer and she even likes to bark and chase them. One time though, a doe that probably had a fawn hidden close by got mean right back with her and nearly kicked her in the head. It took everything you had to get Sage’s attention and she ran back with a furious deer on her tail.

Arthur just chuckles. “Ah, I wouldn’t be too worried,” he says. “She’s a smart girl.”

“Yeah, but she has her stupid moments.”

As if to prove a point, Sage looks at the deer hard, sniffs and then looks back at you. She trots back to you and then stares hard at the deer again. Then she gives a loud “borf” and the deer look up. Upon spotting you, they leap away into the grass and disappear.

“See? Smarter than you think,” Arthur chuckles.

Suddenly your hands bump into each other as you walk. You both pass awkward apologies and “it was my fault, you’re fine”. However, you can’t help but feel like your hand’s burning where his touched yours.

The next morning, you take him to the Smith and Edwards Hardware store in the south end of the valley. You love coming here, it has all sorts of odds and ends for decent prices. It’s also definitely a store Arthur would like. There’s hunting gear, camping gear, things for owning and riding horses. And most importantly: clothes fit for a cowboy.

After first meeting him, you bought him a couple of cheap shirts and jeans, but they were generic and, as mentioned, cheap. You could tell he didn’t like them and was fine wearing his blue button up shirt.

When you get to the store and go to the shirt section, you spread your arms and say “Mr. Morgan, go find whatever clothes you like and pick to your heart’s desire!”

“Morgan?” you hear a voice say. Turning around, you find a boy in his early twenties maybe. He’s looking hard at Arthur. “Hey, you do look just like Arthur Morgan! Nice cosplay, man! You’re killing it!”

He asks Arthur to take a couple of pictures. Since you’ve introduced him to the widespread functions of phones already, he’s not shocked by the camera in the man’s hand. He is shocked that he recognized him, but he graciously takes photos with him with a flabbergasted smile.

When the man thanks him and walks off, Arthur turns to you. “A’right, spill,” he says.

“What?” you say, trying to sound dumb.

“How in the hell do so many people know me? You knew my name the second you set eyes on me and so did he. What, am I a historical figure or something?” He scoffs at this thought.

“Not exactly,” you say. You haven’t brushed up on the game or video games at all in fact.

“Listen, Arthur, I know it’s not ideal, but I will explain it all when it’s the right time. When you’ve gotten a little more used to… this world, I’ll show you. You might not like it though.”

He just huffs. “Fine. But at least tell me the general idea of it. I deserve to know that much at least.”

You really don’t want to do this in a store where other people can hear you, so you tell him you’ll explain it in the car.

Arthur just shrugs his shoulders and goes around picking out a few shirts and two pairs of jeans. You browse the isles of vintage candy for a moment, stalling to go check out. How in the hell are you going to explain this?

The inevitable comes and soon you’re in the car, driving home with Arthur. He brings the subject up again.

“Okay, Arthur. There’s something called a video game. Video games are a sort of… type of visual story telling but not like movies. You get to play the main character of the game and kind of experience it as if you were them. Well, a couple years back, a game came out that focused on you after things fell apart in Blackwater for the game. It follows you until…”

“Until what?” he says in a deep growl. This is clearly not what he was expecting.

“Well, until you end up… dying.”

He sighs heavily. “It’s the TB, ain’t it?”

You nod, deciding not to go into the complications of the four possible endings in the game. “Yeah. Then the game switches perspective to John Marston a few years after. It won a lot of awards and people raved that it changed the industry of video games. It made a lot of waves. Think about it, Arthur. You’re famous!”

He sighs again and looks out the window. “Famous for dyin’ or bein’ a damn fool, I guess. I think… Dutch has changed, Y/N. When we got back from Guarma, and when we were there too, he just… liked killin’ folk I think.”

You grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly before you can stop yourself. “I know, Arthur. I’ve played the game. A few times, actually. And I know what happens to Dutch. But you try. You try your hardest to help him see reason and when that doesn’t work to get John and his family out. You’re a good man, Arthur.”

“I’m not, Y/N. You don’t know the things I done.”

“But I do, Arthur. Obviously not everything, but I know a good chunk of it. I know a lot more than you think, in fact. Now I don’t have a lot of faith in people. Think everyone is out for themselves, more than happy to step on the little people. I’ve been one of them for longer than I care to admit. But trust me when I say I know you and you’re a good man. You may have made some poor decisions, but who hasn’t? We’ve all done things, said things, intentionally hurt people and later regretted it. But you try. You try to do better, to make up for them. Besides, no one’s inherently good or evil. We all have both inside us.”

He sighs again and looks at you as you stop at a light. His hand flips up to meet yours and you swear you feel him squeeze it. “Thank you, Y/N. I got real lucky when I stepped out of that cave and bumped into you.”

You’re glad the light turns green so you have an excuse to look away and hide your blush.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #a new adventure #i'm awkward

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burliforti · 5 years

Text

Rose of England

My entry for the Good Omens fanwork exchange arranged by @transarmageddon. I created this based off a prompt from @vecieminde. The prompt that I was most heavily inspired by was “Aziraphale and Crowley exploring an abandoned place which glory days they might have witnessed”. Full disclosure: I am a bit of a history nerd and so one abandoned place turned into many which turned into a road trip across rural England with a pit stop in Wales. At certain times I veered a bit further from the main prompt than I was hoping but I hope you still enjoy! (About 9.5K and no warnings apply. I’m having a beta review it and then I’ll probably post to AO3) Heavily inspired by the Vera Lynn album “Rose of England” (I am bad at titles and simply borrowed that.) Definitely recommend a listen, it’s a wonderful album. Fic under the cut.

Prologue: London

It had been three weeks since the very last day of the rest of their lives. Not surprisingly, in the aftermath of perhaps the most chaotic week in all of creation Aziraphale and Crowley had been having some difficulty slipping back into their old routines. The sudden lack of oversight was a relief but left them both with a degree of freedom that they weren’t quite sure what to do with. Crowley no longer had to plan elaborate schemes to generate widespread low-grade evil and Aziraphale found himself without his usual laundry list of miscellaneous miracles and holy interventions, leaving both with a sudden and dramatic increase of spare time. Heaven and Hell had, apparently, taken their warnings to heart and had left them alone.

They managed to slip into parts of their old routines. Aziraphale would go out to lunch in small french bistros and read Virginia Woolf in the plush reading chair in his study. Crowley had continued to scheme for a time out of habit but eventually tapered off to random pranks and messing with people who drive below the speed limit on highways and members of parliament. His house plant hobby had flourished into a full horticulture obsession. The apartment whose predominant palette had been black and grey for several decades now found itself green, green, and green. He wasn’t really one for flowers, preferring varieties such as ferns, ivy, and more recently, mosses. Crowley had acquired an impressive and wide array of mosses, spanning continents and centuries, quite literally finding himself with the only remaining iteration of certain ancient mosses (Crowley’s imagination did not know that these had gone extinct. He simply remembered soft, curling greenery on teak trees and there they had appeared).

Aziraphale had also picked up a few hobbies. He had a tendency to do so. Dancing, magic, prophecies. They weren’t exactly phases (for he did still truly enjoy all of these things), but Aziraphale had a meandering mind that was always eager for new knowledge. Recently, he had come across an antique store looking for any interesting books. Instead, he had left the premises with a vintage camera that stood on a wooden tripod, that by all accounts should not have been able to work anymore, but miraculously, did indeed take photos. This began a new collection of vintage cameras and various other photographic contraptions. He particularly enjoyed taking pictures of nature (trees were much better at sitting still than wily serpents who would fidget and blur the images). Eventually, Crowley bought him a polaroid camera. He was annoyed of being forced to sit still for the negatives and dealing with Aziraphale hauling his many apparatuses on their walks. The polaroid was a bit newfangled for Aziraphale’s taste, but he enjoyed not having to develop negatives and being able to immediately see the images. Crowley did not mind this hobby as much as he had others (nothing could be worse than the magic. As long as taking photos of birds and elms prevented Aziraphale getting into card tricks or whatever nonsense than he would limit his complaints.) Yet even as they settled into old routines and found new ones, both beings found themselves on edge despite the apparent resolution to most of their problems. You see, Aziraphale and Crowley were bored. And Aziraphale had just the idea.

“A vacation?” Crowley replied as they sat in St James Park, sitting on a bench watching the ducks bob in and out of the water.

“It’s been so long since we left the city. Not since all that nonsense, and even that was barely two hours outside London. Before you mostly got around for work, and since our, well, retirement, I don’t believe either of us has really traveled much. Thought it might be a nice change of pace.”

“And where exactly were you thinking?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular. Although there are a few sites that I’d like to revisit. It’s been so long since I properly traveled. Human beings have created some truly marvelous places.”

“Destroyed just as many too.”

“And then rebuilt. I’m sure even you have an old spot or two you wouldn’t mind revisiting.”

Crowley paused, considering this with a great amount of reluctance. “I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve been ‘round the countryside.” He replied, begrudgingly.

Aziraphale’s face lit up in a bright smile. “Splendid! I suppose there is no point in waiting around. I’m already packed, I will see you at the shop tomorrow, bright and early!”

Crowley looked at him in disbelief. “Tomorrow?!”

Rochester Castle

Crowley did arrive early, although it wasn’t a particularly bright October morning. He pulled up in his Bently and had hardly gotten out of the car when Aziraphale burst through the shop door, hauling a large two-piece antique luggage set and two vintage cameras.

Aziraphale flashed a brilliant smile “Good morning, dear boy!” Crowley walked over to Aziraphale and grabbed the luggage out of his hands. “Let me take that.” Aziraphale let him take the bags and took the cameras in both arms. “Why, thank you.” Crowley dragged the luggage toward the Bentley. “What on earth do you have in here? You’ve been wearing the same outfit for over a century.”

“Books, mostly. Some light reading I’ve been meaning to do.”

“Hardly light,” Crowley complained, lifting the luggage into the trunk with great difficulty. Aziraphale carefully laid out the camera equipment in the backseat, with the exception of the polaroid which he kept in a small camera bag over his shoulder. Crowley slammed the\trunk and sauntered over to the drivers side.

“So where are we off to, angel?”

“Well I didn’t want anything too adventurous, and I know you’re hard-pressed to leave your vehicle. Perhaps a week or two, just in the countryside. Breath of fresh air, maybe even revisit some old favorites?”

“Fine by me.”

“And I thought it best to start south and work our way up. What do you think?”

“Any destination in mind?”

“Oh, not really. It’s been so long since I’ve been that farther south than London.”

“Ever been to Rochester Castle? Less than half an hour from here.”

“Rochester? Off the Medway? Shouldn’t that be at least an hour– Crowley slow down!”

They arrived 40 minutes later. Aziraphale was not incorrect in that it should have taken an hour and Crowley had also not been mistaken in that it could have been merely half an hour, but at Aziraphale’s continued pleas of “Slow down Crowley!” they had met somewhat in the middle. Luckily tourist season tended to slow down this time of year. The employees of the estate had kindly left them to their own affairs. Aziraphale had picked up a brochure and was reading it as the two of them explored the keep.

“They say it had originally been given to Bishop Odo, probably by William the Conqueror.”

“Never met him.”

“Oh you weren’t missing much, I didn’t find him to be particularly charming. Although it is possible that I insulted him upon our first meeting. Never could wrap my mind around french. All that gender and tense. Feminine chairs and male houses, utter nonsense.”

“I believe houses are also feminine.”

“My point! Completely arbitrary. And the tenses, what language needs nine different types of past tense? They live such short lives I don’t see the point.”

Crowley let Aziraphale rant as they continued to stroll along corridors and in and out of almost accurate historical reimaginings of bedrooms and parlors. Crowley hadn’t been to Rochester Castle since the Peasants’ Revolt in 1381. He really had absolutely hated the 14th century. He had gotten so fed up, in fact, that he had whispered in a handful of ears of ‘injustice’ and ‘revolution’. He hadn’t had much of an end goal in mind, just anything to shake up that dreadful century. It hadn’t really gone anywhere, unfortunately. He didn’t see much of Aziraphale that century, not with the war and the plague. Such a bore and with awful fashion. It had been such a relief when the Renaissance properly took off.

“You’ve been awfully silent, Crowley.”

He quirked an eyebrow over his glasses. “Let’s go to the gardens.”

They made their way into the Castle’s exterior and into the gardens that encircled the estate. English roses, bright Dahlias, twisting ivys, and sweetly scented Begonias dominated the courtyard. Aziraphale was enjoying the vibrant colors and heavenly floral perfumes while Crowley glared critically at pests and withering leaves.

“I think this is going to be a marvelous holiday.”

Crowley wandered over to one of the bushes and picked one of halfway decent begonias, sauntering back over to Aziraphale. He walked directly in front of him and stopped just shy of the other man.

“If you say so.” He replied, pinning the flower to a blushing Aziraphale’s lapel.

“Oh, no need for all of that.” He said waving his hand toward the plucked stem. An even more vibrant flower bloomed in its place.

“So,” Crowley asked, returning to his place by Aziraphale’s side, “where to next?”

Bodiam Castle

Aziraphale had asked one of the local historical guides, who suggested Bodiam Castle, which was an hour south of Rochester Castle near Robertsbridge in East Sussex. She had also suggested a local family run pub for lunch. Aziraphale had given Crowley a wide-eyed look to which Crowley could only roll his eyes and say “Yes, yes alright. It’s your holiday, angel.” Aziraphale had taken note at some point of the increase of Crowley’s use of ‘angel’ to describe him. He had subsequently filed away the observation to ‘thoughts that need no further introspection or deliberation’. They ate (or Aziraphale ate) a slow and peaceful lunch. He seemed to enjoy his fish and chips and was particularly impressed by the tartar sauce (homemade apparently, an old family recipe). The batter was also very pleasant but he didn’t much care for the chips. Crowley picked a few off of his plate absentmindedly. They ate mostly in silence, Aziraphale enjoying the fish and Crowley enjoying Aziraphale.

They continued on their journey, arriving in Robertsbridge in significantly less than an hour (much to Aziraphale’s terror). Aziraphale had in fact once visited Bodiam Castle, many years ago during the war of the roses. It had been abandoned in picturesque ruins for decades but had been restored in the early 20th century. Crowley and Aziraphale explored the property. While the exterior had been well preserved, the interior was now in ruins.

“It had been quite nice when I had visited. I was presenting as a clergyman on the road back in those days, you know. Made seeking shelter much easier and people would listen to me, which was quite helpful on certain occasions.”

“I imagine it explained all those Bibles you carried with you.”

“Well yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“There is still a beauty to it now, albeit a different sort of beauty.”

“Seems like regular old ruins to me.”

“You don’t feel any sort of, oh I don’t know, whimsy or appreciation?”

“I don’t really go in for whimsy, angel.”

They continued to explore for quite some time, Aziraphale taking full advantage of their solitude and the picturesque ruins by taking many photographs, both with the antique camera on a tripod and the polaroid. Aziraphale had started off carrying the larger camera but Crowley had soon taken over after a passing mention of discomfort by Aziraphale. They made their way outside, strolling along the edge of the moat as the sunset.

“Oh, what a beautiful sky it is tonight. Crowley, do you mind putting down the camera? I’d like to get some photos, lighting is simply marvelous.”

“Not like we’ve seen the sunset a million times already. The same sky and the same sun for 6,000 years.”

Aziraphale ignored him, setting up the camera into the correct position. The tripod was close to the water's edge, overlooking the horizon. Aziraphale watched the sky change from red, orange, and yellow to deep purple and pitch black from behind a camera lens. Crowley watched Aziraphale burn brilliant in a fiery sky to softly glowing in the moonlit night.

Tintagel Castle

Crowley suggested the next location: Tintagel Castle. It was quite a ways away on the southwestern coast but he insisted that the view was worth it, and besides it had been ages since either of them had been to the Celtic sea. It was by far the longest drive they had undertaken so far. A direct route would have taken five hours (perhaps three with Crowley behind the wheel), but Aziraphale had asked if they could drive past the channel on the way there and Crowley wasn’t exactly in the habit of denying any request or desire the angel had. With the scenic detour, the drive should have been close to 7 hours but ended up closer to five anyways, accounting for a lunch break.

Aziraphale was able to manage (tolerate, more accurately) Crowley’s breakneck speeds on the lonely country roads. Rolling hills with the occasional grazing livestock and farmhouses turned into rocky cliffs and blue-grey waters. Aziraphale enjoyed the picturesque landscapes and lack of the usual urban chaos, while Crowley enjoyed the lack of other vehicles and an open road where the speed limit was hardly a thought. They hadn’t talked much, Aziraphale occasionally putting on a CD (he didn’t quite grasp the concept at first but he was getting the hang of it.) Most of the disks had been left in the car and forgotten for more than a fortnight, and Crowley could only tolerate ‘We Will Rock You’ by Benjamin Britten or ‘We Are The Champions’ by Handle so many times. Thankfully, he had remembered to bring in some CDs from the apartment that had yet to become a compilation of Queen’s Greatest Hits. Aziraphale preferred classical, so they listened to Bach, Vaughn Williams, Holst, and various other (although predominantly British) composers. They were listening to Simple Symphony (actually by Benjamin Britten) when Crowley finally slowed and pulled into a half-full parking lot. Luckily the castle and surrounding expanse were quite large and the two could easily keep away from any crowds.

They explored the ruins of a castle for a time, Crowley relaying stories of his time in Richard of Cornwall (both from his time in the castle and during the Barons’ Crusade. Aziraphale had been preoccupied at the time by some work further west in Southampton.) Eventually, the crowds started to bother both of them and they naturally wandered away from the ruins and over the large bridge.

“You know I rarely made it out to this part of the country, but it’s quite lovely. The view is spectacular.”

Crowley squinted and peered upwards towards the gathering clouds. “Looks like it might rain.”

“Oh, I’m sure it would only take a slight miracle to ensure clear skies until the end of our visit. I was thinking for after– oh!” Aziraphale’s eyes went wide as the unfortunate combination of a strong gust of wind off the sea and a damp patch on the footbridge made him stumble and lose his footing. Before he could find purchase on the guard rails he felt two hands reach out and grab his arms, helping him upright. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley who in turn looked down at him in concern.

“You alright?”

Aziraphale laughed nervously, brushing himself off. “Oh yes, I’m quite alright, just taken a little off guard I suppose…” He trailed off. There hadn’t been any danger really, the footbridge had quite a high railing and Aziraphale had wings for heaven’s sake but peering down at the cold water crashing up against the stony cliffs made his head spin for a moment. “Thank you.” He finally said.

Crowley made a noise of displeasure in return, “Can’t have you being discorporated middle of your vacation abandoning me in Cornwall of all places.”

“Our vacation. Besides, you suggested Tintagel.”

“Ngk.”

Neither of them made the first move, remaining stationary on the footbridge for another beat.

“You can let go of me now, Crowley.”

He looked down at his hands which were indeed still wrapped around the other's arms. His cheeks turned slightly pink as he let go, refusing to look at the other as they continued on.

Glastonbury Abbey

Aziraphale insisted they stop by Glastonbury Abbey the next day, tentatively starting northward.

“I’m shocked you never made it out there yourself back in the day, dear boy. Frightfully important, I can recall quite the drama and importance for quite a long stretch of time. Second only to Westminster.”

“I avoided abbeys as a general rule. Parishes, monasteries, cathedrals, whole lot of them. Not exactly my scene.”

“Shame really, some truly exquisite architecture. The food wasn’t exactly top-notch, but some of the better dining from that era at any rate. I’d imagine you’d be quite fine now, been in ruins for centuries.”

The sky was clear and blue, the grass a vibrant green. There were a few tourists who were wandering about the grounds but left the two beings be. They wandered through the decrepit cathedral, ceiling completely gone and missing good portions of the walls. While Aziraphale doubted that any previous blessings were still in place, Crowley was wary and remained outside of the ruined Holy buildings.

“It really was quite a marvel. I had the occasion to visit on a number of occasions throughout the centuries, sent here quite often for holy interventions, miracles, enlightenment, heavenly visions, the whole nine yards as they say. You’re sure you never made it over here during, well, the Arrangement?”

Aziraphale quieted at the last two words. He had always been much more prudish, more embarrassed regarding their previous understanding. Perhaps it was because Crowley had much more experience rebelling and bending rules, but if they were being honest with themselves (although they rarely were), Aziraphale also had a fair bit of experience bending rules, he was just more adept at making excuses for it and felt much more guilty about it afterward.

“Nope. Besides, I believe the heyday of the great Abbeys predated our agreement.”

“I suppose that’s true. Those old Catholics enjoyed their drama. I tried to stay out of it mostly, politics was never really my forte. I recall having to give a vision to one of the old Abbotts back in the 12th century. Something about inspiring a new sermon, I can’t quite recall.”

Crowley made some noise to indicate that he was still listening (which he was in fact doing. He liked to put up an air of indifference but he always listened, and Aziraphale knew this.)

“You know I was able to get a first edition of “On the Antiquity of the Glastonese Church”? Signed by William of Malmesbury. Wonderful historian, and splendid company. He had a terrific collection at the Malmesbury Abbey and was kind enough to give me a number of his books, all with signed inscriptions. Later in his life, he was kind enough to gift me some of the notable works in his personal collection. His second edition of Gesta Regum Anglorum is a classic.”

Aziraphale continued to ramble on as they explored the Abbey grounds. Crowley listened quietly but intently. Their conversations usually involved both of their active participation but Crowley had never minded whenever Aziraphale would stumble into his ramblings. They occasionally reminisced, exchanging amusing stories and recounting shared adventures, but on that rare but treasured occasions a topic would arise and Aziraphale could literally talk for days on end, one story spilling into the next. Crowley’s original thought to describe it had been cute, but that couldn’t possibly be it.

“It’s impressive how long these have stayed standing, even if they have fallen into a bit of disrepair.” Aziraphale finally quieted, inviting a response from Crowley.

“‘Spose. They always did like to show off. Always obsessed with posterity.”

“And these are hardly the oldest, even just in England. And we’ve been there for all of it.” Aziraphale spoke softly, his eyes unfocused as he gazed far beyond the old Abbey. Crowley glanced at him. He had a tendency to be sentimental after these long trips down memory lane. Crowley himself had never quite at the proclivity for the sentimental.

“And they’ll keep building places of worship and keep writing history books. Come on, I saw a sign for a nearby for an italian restaurant, we’ll grab you some lunch.”

Bath

After lunch, they drove a bit farther north to the city of Bath. This had been the largest city they had visited so far. They stopped by bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the town, preferring the larger space, quiet countryside, and easy parking it provided. They took the day to explore the city, visiting various historical sites. They walked by the Abbey (although they did not venture inside as a courtesy to Crowley), Pulteney Bridge, strolled down Royal Crescent, popped briefly into Holburne museum but quickly left when Aziraphale got fed up with the minor inconsistencies and incorrect speculation. They continued their walk and eventually came across a beautifully restored Georgian home with a bronze plaque that reads:

Here lived William Herschel

A.D. 1781

and a sign above that that read ‘Herschel Museum of Astronomy’. It looked to be mostly vacant, which made sense seeing as it was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday during the school year, with the peak of the tourist season being a few months behind them.

“Oh, I remember that fellow. Quite the eclectic man; astronomer, biologist, musician, and composer, though if memory serves his scientific career fared better than his artistic one. I saw the premiere of his eighth symphony and you know, I really did enjoy it. I’m not sure why he’s been relegated to the background of classical composers. I suppose now it’s so strongly dominated by Mozart, Haydn, Shubert, and a few other fellows that it didn’t leave much room for others. Truth be told I think Haydn might be slightly overrated. You write 107 symphonies but only a handful are noteworthy in any way. You knew him, didn’t you? I recall you hanging around with the Royal Astronomical Society for a time before sleeping through most of the next century.”

Crowley hummed in acknowledgment. “Yeah, hung around with that lot periodically end of the 18th century. He and his sister, Caroline, pushed the field miles forward. Shall we head inside?”

Crowley held open the door for Aziraphale and they headed inside the quiet Georgian household. They handed over a few pounds to the receptionist who put a little stamp of a planet with stars on each of their right hands. They quickly passed through exhibits pertaining to more recent events, preferring to linger in the sections that focused on Herschel and his discoveries.

“I liked him. Quite sharp. Corrected a few older discoveries, which I appreciated. It was annoying having to sit through some of those Royal Society lectures calling some of the star clusters nebulae. He and Caroline discovered and cataloged a boatload of nebulae, clusters, comets, the like. Nice to finally have your work properly appreciated after nearly 6000 years. We used to gossip about the bores over at the Royal Society and I helped get Caroline get a paid position at the government. I mean why would they be paying him but not her?”

“That was very kind of you, Crowley.”

He made a face of displeasure in return, “Hardly. If she hadn’t been employed who else would have discovered my comets and cataloged my nebulae? Quite proud of those, you know, and no one there to appreciate all my hard work. ‘Oh look at the beautiful waterfalls, the beautiful forests’, please. Hardly any craftsmanship in a waterfall. Some rocks and a river. But a planetary nebula? A red dwarf? Combustion, gravity, electromagnetism, a delicate balance of helium, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and however many other elements. When old Will finally got that telescope of his up and running, the look on his face when he saw them all, it was like finally, someone can appreciate some true artistry. I will say the nerve of those two constantly referring to it as ‘the heavens’. Heaven wished it looked like that.”

Aziraphale looked wistfully at a newer photo of the butterfly nebula. “You know, during all that time it took humans to properly observe the cosmos, I appreciated it. All the stars and nebulae, pulsars and supernovae. I wasn’t able to get out much personally, but I was lucky enough on a few occasions. It was breathtaking. And on earth, we can see much farther than they can, even with some of their telescopes. I’ll spare a glance here and there when I get the chance, and it really is unparalleled.” Aziraphale stopped, still looking firmly at the nebula in front of him. He spoke softer this time. “Dare I say it, maybe even more beautiful than anything here on earth.” A pause. His head turned slightly towards Crowley and met his eyes beneath the shades. “Or rather, almost anything.”

Crowley’s head snapped violently back towards the image, not daring to look back at Aziraphale. Earth had been almost entirely God’s pet project, the vast majority anyways. Some details had been relegated to other angels. But the earth had always truly been Hers. Aziraphale’s proclamation of the superior beauty of the cosmos was… a lot to process. Not to mention the meaning of the angel’s pointed glance at him. It was a bit too much for Crowley. He coughed, still not meeting the other’s eyes.

“Off to the Baths then?”

Kenilworth Castle

“Kenilworth, now this is a real castle,” Crowley said, picking away at the grapes on the fruit platter. They had driven north from Bath that morning, exiting the South West and entering into the West Midlands. Crowley accompanied Aziraphale to a hearty breakfast before their departure. They continued to avoid the main roads, Crowley speeding through old dirt roads in the countryside. Aziraphale would point out every herd of sheep, every single baby calf, every mangy looking old goat while a look of utter delight and whimsy. He had become completely enamored with the countryside and Crowley was beginning to worry about how he would ever get him back to the city.

“Oh look at those horses! There’s a small black foal, isn’t it just darling? Shall we stop by to say hello?”

Crowley glowered at the animals that were grazing the field they were driving past and pushed down even harder on the gas in response.

“You’re no fun, my dear.”

“Awful creatures. They smell, they buck, they attract flies, painful as all hell to ride, and generally terrible. Not even properly evil, just badly designed and poorly executed. The automobile is definitely among the greatest human inventions along with alcohol and sunglasses. Shame when they stopped making glue out of the bastards.”

Aziraphale smacked him (not so lightly) on his arm, “Crowley! What an awful thing to say!”

“What? They deserve it.”

“My goodness, what on earth did horses ever do to you.”

“What didn’t they do? Centuries of sore buttocks, horse flies, and manure. The smell, Aziraphale, do you remember it? The streets were absolutely disgusting, it’s no wonder I stayed inside for most of the 18th century.”

“I think you’re being too harsh on them. I find them quite majestic.”

“Nothing majestic about your teeth taking up more room in your skull than your brain.”

“Well, I quite like them.”

He rolled his eyes, “Suit yourself, angel.”

They continued north for another hour or so, eventually stopping in Stratford-Upon-Avon to pick up some food for a picnic (actually Crowley’s suggestion) and to pay respects to an old friend. They continued on, taking many detours, arriving at the castle just in time for lunch. Crowley pulled out a picnic blanket from the trunk (whether it had been there the whole time or if he had just miracled it then, Aziraphale didn’t know. Regardless, he was touched by the gesture.) He laid it out under the shade of a nearby Ash tree that grew just a bit outside the central keep.

“Yes, it had its fair share of excitement back in the day.” Aziraphale agreed.

“Came to see King John here once. What a prick. That whole family was a mess. Richard and Henry weren’t that awful in the grand scheme of British royalty, although that’s quite a low bar. Oh, but John, totally insufferable. I was supposed to tempt him into rebelling but the bastard was already scheming before I got there, and not very well mind you. Didn’t bother helping out when it failed, I didn’t really feel like getting involved.”

“I accompanied Elizabeth here a few times. Very intelligent woman, difficult life though. Popped in every-so-often to lend her a helping hand. I remember tutoring her briefly when she was a child. Incredibly bright and kind for a child of her age. The crown hardened her considerably, but who could blame her.”

“Oh yes, she was a feisty one. One of the few British royals I had any respect for at all, although she still had her fair share of flaws, but who am I to judge?”

They continued to eat, somehow always remaining in the shade despite the passing of hours. Aziraphale was usually quite silent when he ate, his mouth constantly full with the next delight Crowley had packed away into the wicker basket, so Crowley took it upon himself to fill the silence by recounting his many tales of Kenilworth and the events surrounding it, sprawled out on his side, one arm supporting his head.

“You know the tennis balls had been my idea. I had meant it as an insult but I think Henry overreacted a little bit.”

Aziraphale paused his enjoyment of some shortcake, “At least we got a good play out of it.”

“Fair enough. The old Bard never really bothered with historical accuracy but I didn’t mind with him. Made it better usually.”

“I’d be inclined to agree.”

Eventually Aziraphale had had his full and pulled out a book, leaning up against the Ash. Crowley moved closer, laying down beside him.

“What are you reading?”

“The Anabasis of Alexander.”

“He was a drama queen.”

“This is a classic.”

“I’m sure.”

Aziraphale ignored him and pulled out his reading glasses. Crowley had never said this out loud, but he loved Aziraphale’s reading glasses. The glasses were practically ancient, picked up sometime during Crowley’s respite in the 19th century. He didn’t need them, and Crowley didn’t know why he wore them. A fashion he had picked up? Perhaps he simply enjoyed the completion of his ‘old bookkeeper’ look? At any rate, Crowley never complained when Aziraphale opened a large tome and took out the spectacles. He looked up at Aziraphale; ‘Cute’ he thought. There that word was again. The glasses made Aziraphale look intelligent, sophisticated, extremely out of date, and certainly not cute. Or at least, that’s what Crowley thought (or did he?)

“Read a bit for me. I’m sure it’ll put me right to sleep.”

The angel huffed at the minor insult but settled in closer to Crowley anyways. The demons head was up against his thigh, arms at his side and legs bent upwards. There was a gentle warm breeze and songbirds that flew in and out of the ash. The sun was bright and hot but they were cool and comfortable in the shade, both subconsciously leaning into the warmth of the other.

“In Ecbatana, Alexander offered sacrifice according to his custom, for good fortune; and he celebrated a gymnastic and musical contest…”

Plas Newydd

They stayed the night in Kenilworth after allowing themselves the luxury of a lazy afternoon followed by a warm meal at a local pub (in this part of the country, most options for dining out were pubs). The next morning they took the Bentley further northwest, crossing the border into Wales. The signs changed into a jumble of consonants and seemingly misplaced vowels.

“I haven’t been to Wales in so long. I adore the people here, very charming folks. I do hope my Welsh hasn’t fallen out of shape, it has been quite a while.”

They drove down the old country roads, Crowley for once not doing nearly double the speed limit, perhaps as a courtesy to Aziraphale or maybe because even he couldn’t bring himself to disturb the sleepy atmosphere of the small villages they passed through (although the most likely cause was simply extending their time on the road. He enjoyed the peace and solitude he shared with Aziraphale while they rode in the Bentley.)

Aziraphale looked quizzically down at the map they had picked up in Shrewsbury. “I believe you take a right up here, dear boy.”

“Hope you aren’t getting us lost in the Welsh countryside, angel. All these villages look the same to me.”

He looked up from the map and up to the signs with arrows on the side of the road, “No, we’re still in the correct direction. My navigation skills were unparalleled back in the day, I’ll have you know. Served on a privateer ship for a number of months and guarded over an exhibition or two back in the age of explorers.”

Crowley looked up at the signs, recognizing one of the names, “Off to Llangollen then, are we?”

Aziraphale looked over to him surprised, “You’ve heard of it?”

“Visited it to, a couple of centuries ago.”

Aziraphale looked delighted, “So you must have met the ladies then! Can’t imagine what else would bring you to the north-eastern Welsh countryside. I never realized you made it out to see them.”

“Yeah, I visited them a handful of times while traveling between London and Dublin. Eleanor and Sarah. Haven’t thought about them in quite a while. Kept hearing about them and got curious.”

“They were a delightful pair, wonderful hosts too. Elenor and I would sit in the parlor and discuss the recent literature. Poets, in particular, seemed to be drawn to Plas Newydd and most had left behind a copy or two of their work. I recall walking around the estate with Sarah and exchanging thoughts on current events. They were both surprisingly insightful despite their isolation.”

“Bit too fond of horses for my taste, but I could respect how they rebelled against the system. Caused quite a stir for a while, and I enjoy good gossip. The scandal, the outrage, pretty funny if you ask me. Had a few interesting chats with them over tea.”

What Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t realize is that on multiple occasions, they had both shared details of each other to the ladies of Llangollen. Crowley and Aziraphale were both singular personalities in their own way and it had not taken much for the two ladies to connect the dots between both ‘men’ (or what both had assumed to be men) stories. Aziraphale had visited them first, introducing himself as a friend of William Wordsworth. He had indeed discussed literature and current events, but sometimes over dinner one evening he had begun disclosing certain details about a dark fellow (certainly not a friend) that Aziraphale was doing business with whom he had some conflicting emotions. Within a year, a dark fellow with bright red hair had strolled up to Plas Newydd and introduced himself as a friend of the Shelley's. They had welcomed him in, but he was much more reserved than some of their previous visitors. However, after a bottle of gin, the stranger was much more open and willing to share some strange stories of his travels. He was well journeyed and quite connected, having stories from famous scientists, authors, criminals, and even royals. After a bottle of brandy had been opened, he started talking about a friend of his, or perhaps more of a coworker. They had known each other for quite some time but in recent years it seemed as if their relationship had developed a few more layers. As he continued to describe the acquaintance, Eleanor and Sarah had both glanced sidelong at each other with the same realization.

As the two beings came and went, bringing new stories and sharing new details of their other half, the glances between the two women while the otherworldly being relayed their most recent thoughts on the other become more frustrated and knowing. It had been difficult not to intervene but they had both known it was for the best. One day, Aziraphale (or simply “Mr. Fell”) had come to visit. He discussed literature and current events like usual but never seemed to bring up his mysterious coworker. When they asked him about it, his face contorted like he had eaten something sour. They had had a falling out and were not talking to each other at the moment. The two women looked at each other in concern but didn’t attempt to press the issue.

They had never seen Crowley again.

Crowley and Aziraphale pulled up to Plas Newydd a short time later. Both Aziraphale’s navigation skills and Welsh had thankfully remained intact despite the disuse. The house had been well maintained throughout the centuries. Crowley purchased admission for them both. It had been turned into a museum a number of years ago, but both of them weren’t focused on the exhibits, sparing only a pacing glance at the displaces and descriptive plaques. Instead, they took in the house itself and the memories that returned to them with each room that they passed through. As they strolled within the many rooms: bedrooms, parlour, kitchen, library, and outside of the estate in the vast gardens and green rolling fields, the two cast sidelong glances at each other, not unlike two Irish ladies from centuries ago.

Hadrian’s Wall

They continued north on the same day, stopping for lunch in the village before they resumed their journey. After lunch, before they set off onto country roads, Crowley thought they should pick up some more CD’s. They had burned through most of the ones he had brought in from the apartment, and he was starting to get sick of not only “Killer Queen” but also “Fantasia on Greensleeves”. There was a little music shop in the quaint downtown that sold a handful of instruments, some sheet music, a bin of records, and yes, an assortment of CDs. It was a shame Aziraphale never slept since he had been mostly unable to listen to some of his personal favorites as the other being would be awake for the duration of their car rides. Aziraphale had fallen behind the times recently. Back before the advent of recorded audio, Aziraphale had needed to go out into the world to enjoy music, which kept him fairly up to date with the trends. However, after the advent of recording, Aziraphale had been able to enjoy the pleasures of the symphony from his own home, able to read or eat while he enjoyed the sweet melodies. And so he stopped attending the opera, symphony, or any sort of concert almost entirely. He still got out occasionally, when they were playing Beethoven series or one of his favorite Italian operas, but after the 19th century he was pleased to simply keep returning to old favorites (certain notable examples exist. Aziraphale was a fan of Kafka, Vaughn Williams, Rachmaninoff, Ravel, Bartók, and a handful of others.) He had listened to some ragtime and bebop, but he hadn’t been a fan and had simply abandoned all popular music afterward. Crowley drifted through the aisles but was mostly with content to let Aziraphale pick out the music. He was mostly hovering through the classical section, already with half a dozen new CDs. He wandered through a few other sections before walking back over to Crowley.

“Nothing for yourself?”

“You seem to have enough already.”

They walked over to the cashier, Aziraphale setting about all of the CDs and Crowley pulled out his wallet. The old woman behind the cash rung up their purchase and Crowley pulled out the exact change out of his wallet. She accepted it graciously.

“And where are you two from? Don’t get many visitors this time of year.” She spoke with a thick Welsh accent but must have overheard them speaking in english.

Aziraphale smiled warmly, “London. Just taking a bit of a holiday, driving around the countryside.”

“Oh that’s lovely. I prefer the weather this time of year anyway. I like the heat, but in the summer, a bit too hot in recent years. My husband and I drove up to Edinburgh back in July to visit our Lizzie for her wedding. We used to travel all over Europe in the summer months. A bit more difficult after the kids but we were able to bring them along when they were a bit older.”

“Oh yes, Edinburgh has become quite lovely in recent years. It’s been quite a while since I’ve visited myself.”

“Well if you and your husband are continuing north, I would definitely suggest you stop by.”

Aziraphale went red at her assumption. He sputtered in response. “Oh, um, well yes, thank you for the suggestion.”

She gave him a wide smile, “No need to be embarrassed, dear. Our Lizzie was marrying her girlfriend, Mackenzie, up in Edinburgh. Most people in these parts are quite accepting.”

Aziraphale could only redden and nod his head. She handed Crowley a receipt.

“Diolch.” He replied coolly, face unreadable behind the tinted glasses.

“Cael diwrnod braf!” She replied as they walked out of the shop.

They were finally back off onto the road. Aziraphale pulled out one of the new CDs.

“Look what I found, Crowley. I thought you might like it.”

It was a collection of William Herschel recorded by the London Mozart Players. Crowley returned with a neutral grunt of acknowledgment that didn’t convey any particularly positive or negative sentiments regarding the recording. Aziraphale ejected the previous CD and put in the new one.

“So where are we off to next, angel?”

“You know, I’m not quite sure. I thought we could just… drive for a bit, and see where we end up?”

Crowley grinned, “Not your usual style, ‘going with the flow’, ‘seeing where the road takes you.’”

He shrugged in response, “I’ve been trying many new things these last few months.”

And so North they went, out of Wales, up through the West Midlands and into the North West. They continued to bypass the highways in favor of country roads. They drove along the Irish sea, passing by Liverpool, Southport, and Blackpool. At Lancaster, they continued due North towards Kendal instead of continuing along the shoreline. Crowley made most navigational decisions, simply following his intuition. Every so often he would ask Aziraphale for input, but mostly they drove in silence. The angel mostly watched out the window, every so often cracking open the book he had with him.

After another hour or so, Aziraphale finally perked up.

“Ah.”

Crowley looked over to him, “What?”

He pointed to one of the signs. It read “Hadrian’s Wall” and had an arrow pointing right.

“We should go there.”

And so Crowley make a sharp turn to the right, and off they went.

After only another 10 minutes (Crowley’s maniacal driving had returned in full force), the two found themselves at the base of about a 5ft 2000-year-old wall.

“Sort of a dumb plan if you ask me.”

“Hm?”

“Not sure what Hadrian was thinking with this one. Bloody long wall on the fringe of the empire, middle of nowhere? Always seemed like nonsense to me.”

“Perhaps.”

“Next guy pretty much completely abandoned it. Did it ever serve any useful role at any point? Not like it was ever that high in the first place, not sure what he thought he could stop with it. Humanity has found its way across rivers, mountains, and deserts, but oho, not a five-foot wall, that’ll stop ‘em.”

Aziraphale was setting up his camera. The wall was surrounded by kilometers of green fields speckled with trees that were changing color in the autumn season. There was a small lake about a kilometer down from the stretch of the wall that the two had found themselves at.

“Sit still, won’t you? You’ll blur the image.”

Crowley pulled his crossed arms slightly closer in. “Don’t see why you wanted a picture in the first place. Can’t you just get a couple of snaps of the herons over there and be done with it?”

“I have so few photos of you, dear. I’d like a few from this vacation. I’ve had such a lovely time so far. Maybe I’ll make a scrapbook when we’re back in London. Have you heard of those? Came across the idea a few weeks ago and I’ve been meaning to try my hand at it.”

“Don’t see why I need to be in them. Why do you need a photo when I’ll be around anyway? I’ll just ruin your landscapes.”

Aziraphale looked up from the camera and directly at Crowley with a twinkle in his eyes. “You know I think you look positively lovely, dear boy. Now shut up, I want at least one good one.”

And shut up he did.

Tynemouth Priory and Castle (Edward II and Piers Gaveston + Duel?)

They found a little country inn in one of the nearby villages. Crowley slept soundly in his single bed while Aziraphale stayed up reading. They ate the continental breakfast that was provided, Aziraphale putting a fair portion of homemade strawberry jam that the owner’s son had apparently made onto his rolls while Crowley enjoyed his cup of Lady Grey.

“I feel like going to the coast today,” Aziraphale said in between mouthfuls of toast.

“Which one?” Crowley replied, leaning back in his chair on the outdoor patio.

“How about the North Sea? We did the Irish Sea, the Celtic Sea seems like the next logical step.”

“Anywhere in particular?”

“Have you ever been to Tynemouth? There’s an old Priory and Castle. I was there all the way back in the 7th century. Nice little spot on the coast.”

“Yeah, I’ve been, later though. Briefly in the 14th century, with Edward II.”

“Well?”

“Fine with me.”

They left a bit later that morning, going towards the morning sun due East. It was starting to get a bit chillier as they stretched further into autumn and the closer they got to the sea. It wasn’t a long drive by, even without Crowley behind the wheel. Soft piano music that Crowley didn't recognize was coming out of the stereo. It was pleasant, music that sounded like it came right out of a 19th-century parlor. Aziraphale was humming along while he read (a new book, yet again. He seemed to burn through a new one each day.)

They drove up a hill right beside the coast to the ruins. They were the only ones there when Crowley pulled the Bentley off to the side of the dirt road. They got out in tandem and walked toward the abandoned castle.

“Long time since I've been around here. I wouldn't mind making a habit of these little excursions.”

“I guess it's not half bad when you avoid tourist season.”

“You said you'd been here before?”

“Yup, I was briefly a part of Edward II entourage trying to rile up some tensions within the court. You ever meet him?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Eh, weren't missing much. He and Piers Gaveston had been inseparable. Bit annoying but mostly harmless. Tragic end, but that was pretty common for that lot back in the day.”

“Nobles?”

Crowley laughed, “Not quite, angel.”

They walked through the main archway. It had obviously changed significantly throughout the centuries, the brick and mortar now exposed to the elements, large chunks were missing and covered in moss, and yet in some ways, it hadn't changed at all. All of the roofs had crumbled away centuries ago, leaving the bright blue sky above them, with clouds blowing in from over the sea and the sun creeping higher into the sky. Birds nested throughout the ruins in little nooks and crannies, perched atop old towers and in between the remnants of windows.

“I had my fair share of adventures here as well,” Aziraphale remarked.

“Oh really?” Crowley said playfully, grin on his face. Aziraphale enjoyed the frequency with which Crowley had smiled during the trip.

“I did return once after the 7th century, mid 16ty century after it was taken over by Henry VIII. Got into a bit of a tiff with a few visiting Italians.”

“‘Bit of a tiff’? What'd you do, get into a heated argument about the marinara sauce?”

“Don't mock me, old boy. No, we handled the affair like men.” He replied primly.

Crowley turned to look at him, “You didn't duel them, did you?”

Aziraphale blushed a little, “It's not my usual style but the situation quickly escalated.”

Crowley laughed, and it echoed around them. “Did you win?”

Aziraphale looked insulted, “Of course I won! I wasn't given a flaming sword for no reason.”

“What was the argument?”

“I can't quite recall where it started but I believe it ended when he called me a son of a bitch and I replied with something along the lines of 'You dare refer to the Lord that way!?' and drew my sword.”

Crowley gave him a wicked grin, “Would have liked to see that.”

“We should spar sometime. I may be a bit out of shape but I'm sure I could show you a thing or two.”

“Definitely not. I was always rubbish with weaponry. Never really bothered with it. Prefer using my wits, and when a sword was necessary I just got someone else to do it.”

“Maybe I could teach you?”

The offer was left unanswered, the two naturally returning to a comfortable silence as they continued their exploration of the old castle and priory. It was an old place, humans had been occupying the land for 2000 years, and yet they were still much older. This castle had been in ruins for centuries, and they had been there before, during, and after. They did not feel old within the new metropolises that had popped up in the last century but in the ruins of the civilizations that they outlived by millennia. They were old, but they were old together, and now nothing was there to stop them from being so.

“Shall we go home?”

Home. Crowley liked the sound of that when Aziraphale said it.

“Yeah, let's go.”

Epilogue: Dover Castle

They drove south along the coast. Aziraphale had gone through nearly all of the CDs he had acquired in Wales, except one.

“Vera Lynn? Didn’t realize you were a fan.”

“She had such a lovely voice. They broadcast one her performances on BBC during the war and I bought a record the next day."

“How modern of you.”

“This one apparently came out this year. I like the cover art. Technology is unbelievable nowadays, over 30 tracks on a single side of this tiny disc.”

It was later in the afternoon now, Vera Lynn serenading the duo as rolling hills passed them on one side and choppy grey waves on the other. It had been a well-needed disruption in their daily routines, a literal and figurative breath of fresh air. If Crowley was being honest (which he rarely was with himself) he enjoyed spending all this time with Aziraphale. The angel had allowed himself to enjoy their vacation much more openly, but Crowley had enjoyed it too, in his own way. He was old, which he did not care to admit. Humanity had aged him. 6000 years in the pits of hell was nothing, but 6000 years amongst billions of the busiest and most diverse animals on the planet had a way of reminding your how ancient you truly are. Most humans believed that the earth was billions of years old, and that was a length of time that Crowley did not care to imagine. Revisiting all of these old castles and villages reminded him just how much he had experienced already, so much more than any person could imagine, longer than any given human civilization. Up until now, the future had been finite, but now, thinking about all that he could still experience here on earth with seemingly no expiration date was equal parts exciting and terrifying. He looked over at the angel. He kept doing that throughout the trip. Glancing over at Aziraphale in the passenger seat, either reading a book or looking out at the scenery and on one extremely treasured stretch of the drive when he closed his eyes and ‘slept’ (Crowley doubted he had been completely successful in his attempt but it was a marvel to behold regardless.) How many more vacations would they have? How far would they go? The anxiety that had hovered over their previous encounters still loomed slightly, but it was quickly fading with each passing month. Where would they be in a year? He was nervous, terrified even. But looking over at the angel, the knot in his stomach seemed to disentangle itself slowly but surely.

Aziraphale’s thoughts were significantly less deep. He was extremely happy with how the vacation had shaped up and was excited to plan out the next. He was still ready to be back home in his bookshop, he could only handle so much excitement and travel, but it had been energizing and thrilling in its own way. This trip had reminded him why he had settled in England. For all its flaws (notably the weather. Crowley would have also said the politics but Aziraphale didn’t make a habit of keeping up with current affairs), it was a beautiful country filled with kind and well-intentioned people. And had produced its fair share of good music. He had not listened to Vera Lynn in a while but somehow all those old tunes were still in his head as he hummed along watching the sun descend closer to the horizon. He saw a sign that said ‘London’ and when Crowley did not turn onto it, he looked over at the demon curiously.

“Thought we’d make one more stop before heading back home. Just a bit further south.”

Aziraphale was in no rush, so he made no objection. He slid back into his spot up against the window, head perched on his hand. They view slowly grew more and more populated, quaint villages into small towns and then again into cities. Aziraphale closed his eyes, just enjoying the music, enjoying the peace, enjoying Crowley. Even though he was not saying anything the demon's presence was so easily felt. He let himself soak up that feeling and they carried on. They crossed over the Thames and slowly returned to those quaint villages and green fields. The drive wasn’t very long (almost certainly to do with the incredibly dangerous speeds the Bentley had been driving at). They got out of the car and Aziraphale gazed upwards towards the imposing structure in front of them. It was well preserved, in a much better condition than the other castles they had visited. The main keep was surrounded by enormous walls on all sides. The castle itself stood upon a hill overlooking the English Channel. The sun was setting over the water far in the distance. Crowley hadn’t driven them up to the main castle, instead of off to the side closer to the rocky cliffs.

“Dover Castle, the Key of England.”

Crowley got out off the car without turning it off so the music continued to pour out of the Bentley. Aziraphale followed, meeting Crowley who had walked around the car to his side. “Red Sails in the Sunset” faded out and familiar flute and string orchestra began to play.

“They’ll be bluebirds over, the white cliffs of Dover.”

Aziraphale began to blush, “Oh my dear, you didn't.” Except, when Aziraphale said ‘my dear’ the accent was not on the my and full of disbelief or frustration, but on the dear, and was not so much of an exclamation than a term of endearment, gentle and full of care. Crowley would never say it aloud, but he adored the way it sounded out of Aziraphale’s mouth, and especially since it was directed at him. He didn’t respond, instead, leaning against the angel watching the sunset over the castle, which he hoped was in of itself enough of an answer.

Now it should be noted that ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ was that in fact included in the recording Aziraphale had purchased, but Crowley did not know that and imagined that it must be, and so there it was, just in time. The song (miraculously) matched up perfectly with the setting sun. Crowley (or maybe it had been Aziraphale. Both had slowly drifted into each other as night fell, hands brushing up against the others) slowly slipped his hand into that of his best friend. A quiet display of affection that meant so much as the stars began to emerge from the darkening the sky.

“Tomorrow, just you wait and see.”

#fanfiction #good omens #original work #gofanexchange #apologies for my tangents on classical music and historic queer people #and I am 100% sure I missed a few typos here and there #Hope you enjoy!

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cassiexbailey · 4 years

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HOLY SHIT IS THAT [ KAT MCNAMARA ]?! Oh, wait it’s just [ CASSIOPEIA “CASSIE” BAILEY ]. Damn, [ SHE/HER ] looks good for [ 22 ], good thing that they’re [ BISEXUAL ], I might have a chance. I hear that they call them the [ NANCY DREW ] of the [ NORTH SIDE ]. I guess that’s because they’re [ INDEPENDENT ] and [ RESOURCEFUL ]. But I don’t think a lot of people know that they’re also [ SECRETIVE ] and [ STUBBORN ].

01. BASICS

Full Name: Cassiopeia Sebine Bailey

Nickname: Cassie, Cas, Teeny

Sex/Gender: Female

Birthday: November 11, 1996

Age: 22

Astrological Sign: Scorpio

Occupation: Private Investigator

Spoken Languages: English, French, Italian

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual; Heteroromantic

Birthplace: Riverdale, MA

Hometown: Port Townsend, WA // Chicago, IL

Relationship status: Single but complicated

02. PHYSICAL TRAITS

Hair Color/Style: Red-orange or blonde, depending on her mood; she was born with bright red hair, but when she was younger she used to dye it dirty blonde so that she’d look more like her mother; since she found out both of her parents were lying to her about who she was, she let her hair go back to it’s natural color. As for style, she doesn’t really style it often, but it’s usually either down, in a ponytail, or put up in a messy clip

Eye Color: Green

Face Claim: Kat McNamara

Height: 5′3″

Weight: 120 pounds

Tattoos: a large phoenix covering part of her back and left hip symbolizing her love for Greek myth but also as a means for covering up an old stab wound; a small ring of laurel leaves with ‘03/19/1980′ on one side and ‘06/12/2019′ on the other on the inside of her right arm, representing her mother { photos coming soon }

Piercings: Both her ears are pierced twice

Unique Attributes: coming soon

Defining Gestures/Movements: running a hand through her hair; bouncing her leg/knee when she’s nervous; cracking her neck and knuckles; drumming her fingers on whatever surface she’s nearby

Posture: Decent posture, but slouches from time to time

03. PERSONALITY TRAITS

Pet Peeves: { she has a lot okay? this isn’t even all of them } ignorance, lairs, cheaters, being chronically late, people who talk loudly on their phones, people chewing loudly or with their mouths open, people who walk slowly in the middle of the sidewalk or stop suddenly, line cutters, people who don’t use their turn signals, bad grammar, passive aggressive behavior (even though she’s guilty of this herself), people who refer to themselves in the third person

Hobbies/Interests: dance, writing, photography, criminal justice, reading, cooking, hiking

Special Skills/Abilities: private investigation, adaptable, researching, staying calm under pressure

Likes: sex, coffee, tattoos, photography, hiking, swimming, astrology, astronomy, nature, traveling

Dislikes: rude people, ignorance, fake people, cigarettes/smoking in general

Insecurities: losing people she cares about, not being good enough for someone { i’ll probably add more later }

Quirks/Eccentricities: coming soon

Strengths: coming soon

Weaknesses: coming soon

Speaking Style: coming soon

Temperament: she can keep a calm head in most situations, but she does have a bad temper

04. FAMILY & HOME

Immediate Family: Edward Bailey (Anderson) { father }; Sebine Smythe { mother }; Athena Bailey { adopted mother, deceased }; Sebastian Smythe { half-brother }, Sebrina Smythe { half-sister, deceased }; Bruce Anderson { uncle }; Blaine Anderson { cousin }; Darius Anderson { cousin }

How do they feel about their family? coming soon

How does their family feel about them? coming soon

Pets: None yet

Where do they live? She lives in a small one bedroom house in the neutral zone

Description of their home: coming soon

Description of their bedroom: coming soon

05. THIS OR THAT

Introvert or Extrovert? A bit of both, depending on the situation and people

Optimist or Pessimist?

Leader or Follower?

Confident or Self-Conscious? A bit of both

Cautious or Careless?

Religious or Secular? Raised Catholic, but doesn’t practice anymore

Passionate or Apathetic?

Book Smarts or Street Smarts? Both

Compliments or Insults? Depends on the person

Pajamas or Lingerie? Neither; she sleeps in a loose-fitting tank top and short shorts

06. FAVORITES

Favorite Color: dark green

Favorite Clothing Style/Outfit: coming soon

Favorite Bands/Songs/Type of Music: coming soon

Favorite Movies: coming soon

Favorite Books: coming soon

Favorite Foods/Drinks: coffee

Favorite Sports/Sports Teams: She doesn’t necessarily have a favorite team, but she enjoys watching hockey and football

Favorite Time of Day: early evening

Favorite Weather/Season: tied between fall and winter; she loves the cold

Favorite Animal: wolf

07. MISCELLANEOUS

Fears/Superstitions: not being good enough; people finding out who she really is and blaming her for Sebrina’s death

Political Views: she doesn’t really care to be honest; she doesn’t have a party declared, she votes with who she thinks will be best at the time

Addictions: coffee, sex

Best School Subject: English, History

Worst School Subject: Math

School Clubs/Sports: dance team

How does she get money? she owns her own private investigation business

How is she with technology? very adept; not hacker-level, but she can get by

08. PAST & FUTURE

Fondest Memory: learning to cook with her mother

Deepest, Darkest Secret: coming soon

Dream Vacation: coming soon

Best thing that has ever happened to this character: coming soon

Worst thing that has ever happened to this character: Losing her mother and learning that both she and Edward had been lying to her for her entire life

What do they want to be when they grow up? she is grown up, and she’s doing what she wants to do; that being said, married to someone who loves her for who she is. maybe a few kids.

Perfect Date: she doesn’t really have anything in mind for a perfect date. good food, good company. that’s all she can ask for.

09. BRIEF BIOGRAPHY

triggers: mention of presumed KIA military status, drive-by gun violence, torture, murder, death

Growing up, life for Sebine Laurent had been anything but normal. Her parents had died at a young age, leaving her growing up as an orphan on the South Side. Early in her teen years, she fell in love with a young South Sider named Edward Anderson - the youngest son of the Serpents leader. The two were together for years, but despite this relationship when the Smythes came looking for a wife for their youngest son, Sebine ended things with Edward per her new in-laws demands; they shoved a hefty prenup in her direction demanding she not bring any scandal to the family name via her relationship with the South Side boy she had been involved with for so long, and she had begrudgingly accepted it in search of a better life.

Years passed without any contact between Edward and Sebine. She gave birth to two beautiful twins, Sebastian and Sebrina, and her life seemed perfect; her marriage was far from perfect, but she loved her family regardless. A chance encounter brought Edward and Sebine back into each other's lives, and the spark quickly reignited between the two of them. The Smythes knew what was going on between their daughter-in-law and her old flame, but they let it go. They had their picture-perfect family and their beautiful grandchildren. As far as everyone else was concerned, the Alexander and Sebine Smythe had the perfect family. Problems quickly arose, though, when Sebine fell pregnant, and it was clear that Alexander wasn't the father this time.

The family threatened to leave her completely desolate if she didn't end things with the Serpent once and for all, including giving the baby to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy once Sebine had given birth. They thought they had everything under control until Edward refused to be pushed out of Sebine's life for a second time. He had secret, grand plans to sweep Sebine away from her life in the North Side so they could run away to be together, but her in-laws intercepted. They gave Edward a counter-offer that was almost too hard to refuse. Sebine would never leave with him, but he could still have a piece of her; they offered to give him a substantial amount of money to get out of the gang-life that was expected of him in the South Side as well as to leave Riverdale with the baby and never return.

After trying and failing to convince Sebine to leave with him, Edward refused the Smythe’s offer at first, though instead of leaving town like they had asked, he simply took Cassie and left the North side. He returned to the familiarity of the South Side with his daughter, but instead of pledging his loyalty to the Serpents like he was expected to - like his older brother, Bruce, had done - he joined the Ghoulies alongside his best friend, Luca Gilbert. His brother was furious at this perceived betrayal, especially since Bruce had taken over the Serpents in the wake of their father’s passing in the years before. Knowing how angry Bruce was, Edward and Luca prepared for some sort of retaliation, but after weeks of quiet on the Serpents end it seemed as if it wasn’t going to come. In retrospect, Edward should have known better.

Time passed and a relative peace between the Serpents and the Ghoulies settled in. Weeks turned into months. Months into years. It was just long enough that Edward and Luca began to let their guard down, and that was all the chance that Bruce needed. He knew attacking Edward wouldn’t work - while Bruce was brutal and merciless, his brother was worse, and he knew Bruce’s few weaknesses. Hurting Edward himself wouldn’t work, and even he wouldn’t have touched his newborn niece, though he’d never admit that particular fact to anyone. Instead, Bruce turned his rage towards Luca and Derek Gilbert; Luca was Edward’s best friend, and he’d come to see Derek as a son himself. Hurting Edward by killing his family was the best kind of revenge Bruce could have come up with; he knew it would break his baby brother.

Two years of relative quiet between the gangs on the Southside passed, and then suddenly Luca and Derek went missing. Edward had searched for his family for a few days until he got the word from fellow Ghoulies that they’d found Luca’s body beside the river that runs through Fox Forest. He’d been beaten and clearly tortured to death, but they’d been unable to find Derek; from what they could tell, though, it seemed as if he had suffered the same fate as his father. From what he’d seen of the scene himself, Edward suspected that Bruce had dumped Derek’s body in the river as a means of torturing him even further. There would be no closure without the body, and Bruce knew Edward enough to know how much that would bother him.

Losing both Luca and Derek did exactly what Bruce thought it would have done: it broke Edward. When Bruce threatened to kill Cassie if Edward didn’t leave Riverdale behind him, Edward had no choice but to take his daughter and run. He didn’t stick around long enough to learn that police found Derek wandering through the woods alone days later. Instead, he went back to the Smythes. While they wouldn’t give him as much as they had initially offered, they still gave him a hefty amount of money when he threatened to make his affair with Sebine public knowledge. Taking the hush money that they gave him, Edward changed his last name and left the small town in his rear-view mirror with his daughter in tow. Moving them all the way across the country, Edward set out to put his past in the past and start over.

Cassie spent most of her early life in Port Townsend, Washington, a small maritime town located just north of Seattle, with absolutely no recollection of her early life in Riverdale. Edward wanted to get as far away from Riverdale as possible, and a small town located literally on the other side of the country seemed like the best option to him.

Six months after moving to Port Townsend, Edward met a woman named Athena working as an emergency room resident in the local hospital. He’d been working various protection details for important people around the city and had been stabbed while protecting someone. What started as innocent flirtation between Athena and Edward quickly blossomed into something more. She looked beyond the damaged and rough exterior to the broken man inside, and it was Athena who helped him begin to heal. She knew who he was and what kind of man he had been raised to be, and she loved him anyway. She treated and raised Cassie as her own, and she is the only mother that Cassie has ever known.

Shortly after Cassie’s ninth birthday, Athena took a job at a medical center in the South Side of Chicago, and before she knew it, Cassie’s life was being uprooted and moved back east. Edward took various jobs in an attempt to keep up the semi normal life he’d been living in Port Townsend, but eventually he fell back into the only life he’d ever known, working as an enforcer for a local mob group in the city. It was the only real talent he had, and while Athena didn’t necessarily approve of it she stood by the man’s side regardless as he fell back into the familiar role. As she grew older, Cassie began following in her father’s footsteps, though Edward’s way of life was the last thing either parent wanted for Cassie. With time, though, they came to realize that there was no stopping the young woman. Much like both of her parents, once she set her mind to something there was no way she was going to budge.

Shortly after graduating from high school, Cassie literally ran into the man of her dreams. Anthony had stopped by a local diner for lunch; the same diner that Cassie was working part-time in. She had been in a hurry and not fully paying attention and slammed right into the taller man as he went to take a seat at one of the booths; luckily, his reflexes were amazing, and strong arms caught her before she could stumble backwards. He was only home on leave for a few weeks, but it only took a few short weeks for Cassie to fall head over heels in love with the Marine. Their relationship took off faster than most, but even to those around them it was as if they’d been together for years.

Cassie and Anthony were together for six months before he asked her to marry him. Her parents weren’t exactly thrilled at just how quickly the two had gotten to that point - it was one thing to approve of it, quite another to be okay with your daughter getting engaged after such a short time - but they didn’t object to it. Both Edward and Athena agreed that Anthony and Cassie were good for each other; the fact that he was going to be serving an entire deployment before they actually got married also helped Edward accept their engagement a little easier.

Tragedy struck their small family, though, when a notification party showed up on Cassie’s doorstep one morning to inform her that Anthony had officially been declared as Missing in Action, and Cassie and her family were listed as his only next of kin. Given the fact that he was a member of a Delta Force team, there wasn’t a lot that they could tell her about his disappearance, but they were certain that he had been gone missing during one of their missions. He had been presumed dead, but they hadn’t found a body so they couldn’t officially declare him Killed in Action yet. Cassie was torn apart at this news, but Edward and Athena were there to help her pick up the pieces. Even still, she hasn’t dated anyone since; there’s a part of her that hopes Anthony will show up on her doorstep one day.

Despite helping her father whenever she could, Cassie still had her own life as well. She had her own passions and interests outside of following in her father’s footsteps. Cassie had always been a curious nature, and after spending years of helping people on the South Side (of Chicago) with their own problems she decided to make a career out of it. Cassie enrolled in a local college to study criminal justice, though she dropped out just a few credits shy of graduating when another tragedy struck her family once more.

Throughout his years as an enforcer, Edward had made more than a few enemies. He never worried about it until the day that one of those enemies came after his family. Athena had been waiting outside of a local, family-owned restaurant for Edward and Cassie to meet her there for a family night out - a tradition they had started when she began college - when she was shot multiple times in a drive-by shooting; Edward and Cassie had arrived moments later, and Cassie’s world began to come crashing down around her. Athena bled out in Edward’s arms while Cassie watched horrified from the sidelines.

In the months that followed, Cassie’s life was turned upside down. Not only had she lost the only mother she’d ever known, but she uncovered a truth she’d never thought possible. Edward had never hidden the fact that Athena wasn’t Cassie’s biological mother, but he had always told her that the woman who’d given birth to her had died in childbirth. Cassie had always believed him - she’d never had reason to doubt him - until the day she stumbled across letters between Sebine and Edward. She hadn’t thought anything of them at first, many of them were from when they were teenagers and before she was born, but then - as she continued to read - she realized that they continued for nearly a year after she was born. Letters in which Edward spoke about how he still loved her, but he understood her decision to stay with the Smythes, and he would continue to send her photos of Cassie as she grew. Not only had Edward lied about her mother’s death, but he’d kept an entire family from her for years.

In her anger, and after doing months worth of research on her mother and the woman’s family, Cassie left Chicago without a word to her father. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for in Riverdale or from Sebine, but she knew she had to see the woman in person.

10. HEADCANONS

Cassie absolutely loves to dance. She stopped dancing for a while, but now that she’s in Riverdale she’s started going to Jackie’s dance studio more often.

#gdhqintro #{ let me introduce myself | about }#[[ i'll finish this soon but it's mostly done ]]

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sarakuper · 4 years

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Zion National Park, Utah (again!)

Stop #34, Nov 3-6

For our second time in Zion on this trip Sean and I had a truly unforgettable experience as we completed two bucket list hikes. If my only mother knew what I was doing, she would have killed me…. but don’t worry Ma! We did it all very safely and came back in one piece.

We arrived Sunday afternoon at the same dispersed camping site we stayed at back in July when we visited the first time. This time we camped at a spot higher up with views overlooking another beautiful canyon. We set up camp, cooked dinner, played Kaluche (yes, I won.. again!), and mapped out our next day. We talked about doing Angel’s Landing, a very popular and difficult hike, about 5.4 miles long, that challenges anyones fear of heights. This hike boasts incredible views of the Zion Canyon and the need to use chains to climb all the way to the top of Angel’s Landing. A large majority of the hike is your typical, but also gorgeous, steep hike with several switchbacks. The last quarter of a mile (sounds short, right?) is where you risk your life holding onto chains and climbing up a steep and narrow cliff. 1-2 feet off the “trail” in either direction and splat, you’re dead. Honestly, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. It’s such a popular trail, people are basically waiting in line to climb to Angel’s landing! On average one person per year dies on this hike, but thousands of people hike it each year. Possibly hundreds of thousands. While we were discussing the possibility of this hike, Sean was unsure he would do it. He doesn’t fear many things (or at least doesn’t show it), but his fear of heights is real.

Monday morning came and we started our accent. Several switchbacks later we reached Scouts Lookout which is a plateau just before the risky climb to Angel’s Landing. This area was super crowded, and Sean and I were thinking “Let’s climb to the top and then come back here for lunch”. Angel’s landing is literally 0.5 miles away, so I thought this would be quick and we’d be eating lunch in no time. I also thought the portion of the hike we did was pretty much as risky as it gets… maaaaaaan was I wrong.

Here is where the chains just begin. It was so crowded in this area, but we are so close right? I thought it was just around the bend. We started using the chains and I turned back to Sean where he shook his head at me. He didn’t need to use words; I knew this meant he wasn’t coming. I nodded back and continued on thinking to myself “this will be quick!”. Well, I got around the bend passing a large majority of the crowds, and there it was.. the scariest view I’ve ever seen. Reality set in as I actually saw the treacherous 0.5 mile hike ahead to the top of Angel’s Landing. At this point I thought “I’m already here. I made it this far. I’m doing it.”.

A few minutes into the climb I made friends with the people immediately ahead and behind me. Most of them also came with a parter that stayed back at Scout’s Lookout. We encouraged each other and thought out loud “holy shit this is so dangerous and sketchy”. I don’t have a particular fear of heights, but I couldn’t even look to the right or left of me. All I could do was look down at my feet and the immediate steps ahead. I was terrified. This is where I thought to myself… if my mother knew what I was doing…

I wanted to turn back. I was actually thinking this hike is so freaking stupid because of how dangerous it is. How is it possible that its crowded with hundreds (and maybe thousands) of people doing it each day!? There was no turning back now. We scrambled up the entire way, using the chains to pull ourselves up and to hold onto for dear life. But I did it. I made it to the top. I was so shook, I barely took any photos. I sat down and stayed down feeling the comfort of the ground below me. After the first set of chains I had to put my camera in my backpack because I needed it out of the way during the climb. One of the girls I climbed with forced me to get up and take pictures, and so here they are.

I was very anxious to get down and be reunited with Sean. This “short” climb took way longer than I expected and I had already been gone for an hour. So, with most of the same people I climbed up with, we began our decent back to Scouts Lookout. I thought the way down would be way worse for 2 reasons; 1- navigating around the uphill traffic. There was NO room for two way traffic, and the large amounts of people doing this made it extra dangerous. 2- going down you are looking directly at the cliffs beside you. You are looking at how you will fall and die if you misstep. So yeah, thinking about the downhill made me even more scared. But as it turns out, and I’m not sure why, the decent back was actually less scary than the way up. I made it back to Scouts Lookaut and found Sean, immediately running into his arms for a huge hug. I wasn’t sure if he was worried about me because I was gone for so long, but he gave me a huge smile and high five. He actually climbed up to a different viewpoint and was watching me climb up and down through his binoculars. He was very proud of me and also felt reaffirmed that he didn’t do it because of what he saw through the binoculars and because of what I shared about it. This might have been the craziest thing I’ve ever done and I will never do it again. But damn I DID IT!!

After the hike into the Grand Canyon my legs were absolutely fried. I was very excited that after completing Angel’s Landing my legs and body felt strong and were not aching in pain. I guess the South Kaibab hike to Skeleton’s point was a good warm up hike after all!

That afternoon and evening we prepared for our next adventure, hiking to The Subway from the bottom up. We rented water shoes and socks from a local rental shop. A few days prior I inquired with the Wilderness department at Zion about a getting a permit to do this hike. It’s a non maintained trail in the backcountry that takes route finding, scrambling, and hiking through water to complete. I tried to get a permit for this hike back in July but was denied because they reached the maximum number of people to permit for that day. Looking back I’m so glad I was denied then; I was not a strong enough hiker to complete this challenge! Looking at the stats this hike is 9.1 miles and 1,500 feet in elevation gain. I’ve completed hikes with more challenging statistics, so I was confident that I could do it. But this hike is a lot more technical and complex than that. And no matter how much we read about it, I didn’t realize how challenging this hike actually was until we were there doing it.

The trailhead was almost 1.5 hours away, and so we hit the road before 7am to get a decently early start. We started the hike on a normal path for about 0.5 miles before completing a very (and I mean VERY) steed downward climb to the river. Once we made it to the river we placed neon rope around the area as a marker so we knew where to get out of the river on the return. We didn’t see a “trail” at this point, so we hiked through the river upstream. As long as we follow the river we will make it to The Subway.

After about 30 minutes navigating around rocks and trying to not to slip, we realized we were moving very slowly. We needed to find the trail so we could get a move on. Sean found the “trail”, which came and went every few minutes. We crossed the river, climbed, and jumped over large rocks and boulders to make our way through. It felt very strenuous, and was taking much longer than a typical hike. This gave me a serious appreciation for maintained trails where all I needed to do was “follow”. But Sean was our guide that day, and when I wanted to turn around because it was too hard he gave me the tough love I needed to make it to the end. It was me who wanted to do The Subway so badly anyway! Well, after 4 hours (yes, it took 4 hours to go 4.5 miles!) we made it to The Subway. And WOW, this place was absolutely spectacular. I will let the photos speak for themselves.

We took enjoyed the scenery, took photos, ate lunch, and began our hike back in hopes to make it back for Jaxon before sunset. It turns out the hike back was a lot easier and went by much faster. Maybe that’s because we actually found the “trail” and did a lot less hiking through the river and scrambling compared to our way up. Oh, and did I mention there are dinosaur tracks right along this trial? Seriously! They are very hard to find, but with our AllTrails map we were able to spot them!

We made it back to the car around 4pm taking us a total of 7.5 hours to complete this hike. We were proud of ourselves as we left the trail feeling very accomplished! I could never have done this hike without Sean and am grateful for his ability to navigate us safely and push me with tough love and encouragement when I needed it most.

What an incredible two days we just had. What an amazing 4 months its been.

We have another week of traveling in the trailer and visiting national parks before we begin preparing for the next chapter of our trip. Once we get to Denver on Nov 13(ish), this amazing part of our journey will come to an end.

I’m feeling very grateful for all the new places we’ve seen, experiences we’ve had, and for the time me, Sean, and Jaxon have spent together just us in the small quarters of our trailer thats become our home. It will be hard to say goodbye to our mobile home, but significantly harder to say goodbye to Jaxon. That is something we are really not looking forward to; my heart breaks just thinking about it.

Thanks for reading, love you all.

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chrysaliseuro2019 · 5 years

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THE CASTLE

Unfortunately the sunny and mild weather of yesterday hadn’t held and we awoke to a grey wet day. Temperature was about 17 so all in all pretty bleak for the middle of summer. In spite of that the day was quite the adventure.

Breakfast at the hotel, car packed and off ready for sight seeing. Kuldiga’s main claim to fame, and the reason we came this far south is the Venta Waterfall. Now it’s no threat to the great falls such as Iguazu, Niagara or Victoria with only about one metre drop, but it does have some bragging rites. At 200-250 metres long (depending on the season) it’s Europe’s widest fall. In Spring when the salmon are spawning and going up river they jump out and are an easy catch for fisherman. Of course we were too late in the year to see that, but with the drizzly rain we were the only ones there to enjoy the scene. There was an 1874 built 7 spanned arched bridge across the wide and steadily flowing Venta river with ducks floating or perched on the edge of the waterfall. It was pretty and serene looking almost like an English scene. Had the weather been drier it would have made for a lovely walk along the river, but too damp for that today.

Time to head back north again past Riga towards Estonia where we will end our trip with the Boxes. In an effort not to retrace our steps we avoided the main road instead travelling along the ‘A’ roads which were all in excellent condition carrying little traffic. With the weather being grey and drizzly it turned out to be a good travelling day. The scenery was similar to yesterday’s but with fewer silver birch forests. These forests must look a stunning blaze of yellow when autumn arrives. Once again we passed the occasional neat farm, very few with any fences and much to all our delight lots of huge stork nests built opportunistically on chimneys and lamp posts. Funny they should be here as we have seen plenty of them in Spain and Portugal but none in Greece, Italy or Croatia. What attracts storks to some counties and not others?

Time for a coffee break at the town of Saldus where we struggled in the grey drizzle to find a welcoming cafe. Drove through and around the town but sighted only one likely looking place so pulled in and it did the job. Quite a popular hangout with the locals too who were consuming large portions of unidentifiable stodge with gusto. Nearby was a supermarket so stocked up on some very fine pizza slices and pastries for lunch in case cafes continued to prove hard to find.

Continued the unremarkable drive amongst the flat plains hoping the rain might ease up so we could eat our supermarket goodies in a park picnic-style. Had to concede the rain had set in for the day so lunch was consumed in the car.

Planned to stay in Cesis or Silgulda but once again plenty of sites on booking.com with one room but very few with two. So changed tac and booked accommodation at Bīrini about 20 kilometres away. It turned out to be a master stroke. We pulled off the main road at around 4pm and headed up a driveway and there in front of us appeared, as in a children’s fairy tale book, a lake and behind it a huge castle. The sight of it was as unexpected and bewildering as the hipster cafe in Kuldīga had been the previous night. Surely this cant be right! I went in and the young girl at reception dressed as a wench confirmed our booking. In a repeat of last night we were in the new annex but no matter as the rooms although a little tired were huge and adequate.

The castle was grand and while not ancient was still a castle. It was built in 1860 by a Karl von Mengden who also built a number of houses on the vast estate presumably for the workers. But the good guy was Count Mellin who married a von Mengden heiress and actively fought for the abolition of serfdom.

As entirely appropriate Sue and I decided to take tea while the boys opted for a beer. This was served in the upstairs drawing room overlooking the garden and lake. The room was of grand proportions with a huge ceramic floor to ceiling decorative heater (have seen these previously in Slovenia) massively high ceilings and formal but dowdy furnishings. Chris thought it looked like the MCC Long Room. It could have done with a spruce up but was nonetheless was grand and imposing. Meanwhile a couple were having their wedding photos taken, but with no sign of guests, we assumed the reception was elsewhere. (It must be a popular place for weddings though as another set up was arriving as we left the following day.)

Having been cooped up in the car for the best part of the day Chris and I wandered to look at the lake. This itself was fascinating as it had taken three years for it to be dug out by hand and the displaced earth provided the mound the castle was on. The gardens were beautifully kept and decorated with innumerable flower pots all labelled with their botanical names and the lawns manicured like a putting green. Around the back of the castle sat a pretty barn with some ornate cages outside. Upon closer inspection these several cages housed different breeds of rabbits all looking rather plump. With a smell of livestock in the air I went into the barn hoping to find horses but all the pens were empty. The only inhabitant was a tethered woolly semi grown lamb busy with his head in a bucket of food. But he wanted company and as soon as we left the barn he would below loudly until we came back in. He was obviously used to human company and very snuggly and quite playful as he tried to head butt me when I squatted down to cuddle him.

By this time Peter and Sue had left the drawing room and come to join us. Boys then decided it was probably time for a follow-up beer whereas Sue and I were keen to explore. With coats on and wet underfoot we headed along the forest, through some large decorative iron gates and down a long wide grassy track finding a sadly neglected mausoleum the staff had funded and built when Count Mellin had died. Along another wide path through a thick forest and canopy of trees and back around another part of the estate dotted with houses presumably for the workers on the vast estate. Once again if the weather had been better it would have been a fabulous place to fully explore.

We’d read when booking that it had a restaurant on site which suited us perfectly as there were no nearby towns. I for one wasn’t holding out too much hope re the restaurant. When the receptionist is dressed as a wench my mind goes to Kryal Castle and beef spits etc. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. The restaurant served contemporary, sophisticated and delicious food and had a decent wine list. To top it all off under a cloche there were 3 different varieties of home made chocolates named after people historically connected to the castle which Chris, passing on desserts (which were all splendid) sampled. They were so delicious we organised a little pack of 2 each to take away the following morning.

So the day instead of being dreary like the weather was a lot of fun and offered up the most surprising and unexpected accommodation.

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ink-nguyen · 5 years

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Writing Ask Games

Tagged by @papersky-pencilstars thank you!

I’m using my current WIP Stars in the Dark

1. Describe the plot in one sentence.

Hemlock is hired to kill a prince but doesn’t anticipate the bodyguard being competent, while Fox walks a fine line between creatively interpreting his orders and outright treason - emotions ensue.

2. Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic of your novel.

Brilliant jewel tones painting scalloped arches in sandstone and marble

“cinnamon and anise and paprika and tomatoes mellowing in rich coconut milk”

a folk song and lullaby being sung in chorus as the hymn of a mischievous goddess-fox

the shock and pain of falling onto a very hard surface

chilled pomegranate and desert pear mead on the first day of spring

3. Which 3+ songs would make up a playlist for the novel?

Yellow Flicker Beat - Lorde

Collide - James Bay

Did You Hear the Rain? - George Ezra

4. What’s the time period and location in which the novel takes place.

:))) Time period is sort of nebulous? It’s sort of medieval, and but things like pin-and-tumbler locks exist. As for the location, it’s split between Mahjuren and Kinan. Mahjuren is heavily influenced by Mughal India, Persia, and North Africa, but the climate is more temperate with deciduous oak forests and marshlands, but also monsoons don’t @ me I know it doesn’t make sense it’s fantasy okay? Kinan is an archipelagic kingdom, very much tropical, with a strong Southeast Asian flavor, but with blue everything everywhere.

5. Is this a standalone or a part in a series?

It’s a standalone! And also technically like... the prequel for a different solo novel set in the same universe but far into the future when all the sovereign states in SitD have either fallen or morphed into something new.

6. Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

Fox and Flower. It’s technically not actually a title, just a placeholder, but it has a nice ring to it. I would have used it if not for the fact that I have an aversion to using character names in fantasy titles.

7. What’s the first line of your novel?

‘Hemlock flattened himself into the alcove, chest heaving as he caught his breath.’

8. What’s a dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

Oh man, there’s so many snippets ugh.

There’s this bit:

"I don't know, you could at least pretend to care."

Something like anger flickered in his eyes, but it didn't reach the rest of his face. "All I ever do is care," Fox said, his voice almost flippantly cool. "To do otherwise would be treason, and I'm not eager to die."

"You're unbelievable," Lilac scoffed.

"Would you like it better if I said that very little matters more to me than his well-being?" Fox offered, his tone mocking. "That I've come to see him as my younger brother and I would gladly betray his father if it meant keeping him safe? Is that satisfactory?"

"Why are you like this?"

Or:

"You're such a bastard."

"Indeed I am," Fox said, still smiling. He brushed his fingertips against Hemlock's arm as he stood up from the pallet. "I'll be going now."

"Goodnight, traitor."

"Sleep well, murderer."

Or or this one, which I used as my back-cover quote:

Lilac let her shoulders drop and turned back around to face him. "What's the catch?"

"No catch. I know what a gilded cage it is to serve the crown," Fox said. "I don't believe in caging pretty birds to make them sing on command."

"And what about dangerous animals?"

Fox shrugged. "There is nothing more pathetic than a tiger that has been beaten into submission."

Lilac raised a skeptical brow. "And is that what you are?"

Fox met her gaze with a shake of his head. "I'm just a dog on a leash," he said. "I do as I'm ordered."

9. Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

"That doesn't make it taste any less bitter," Fox said, his voice low and cold, "when you offer me the honor of being your second, as if it wasn't always my fucking birthright to stand as your equal."

10. Who are your character faceclaims?

SO here’s the thing: I’ve tried. I’ve TRIEEED to find good photo references for my characters.... but they’re all PoC and darker skinned except Fox, who is still not... pale, per se. Which is a big fucking issue because it’s impossible to find decent photos of a young South Asian man with no beard, or a young Southeast Asian man who doesn’t just look like a kpop idol (which is NOT to say that they all look the same, because they don’t, it’s just that they have a uniformly p a l e aesthetic; also he’s not Korean). HOWEVER, I found one really good reference for Lilac:

Lilac is a few shades darker with curly hair, and her eyes are brown, not green, but otherwise she looks very much like this.

11. Sort your characters into Harry Potter houses!

Hemlock - Hufflepuff

Fox - Slytherin

Remin - Ravenclaw

Lilac - Slytherin

Tayali - Slytherin

Vermil - Gryffindor

Bonus side characters:

Xuan - Hufflepuff

Liem - Slytherin

Fern - Gryffindor

Clem - Hufflepuff

12. Which character’s name do you like the most?

Fox and Xuan!

13. Describe each character’s daily outfit.

Hemlock - black hooded vest over a dark shirt, plain-woven linen pants tucked into sturdy leather boots, knives tucked eveywhere. so many knives.

Fox - finely made dark cotton shirts with embroidery on the collar and cuffs under a sturdier vest with matching embroidery on the chest panels, black twill pants, black leather bracers and low-necked boots.

Remin - a brocade shalwar kameez with goldwork and pearl buttons, silk pants and a coordinating sash around his waist, kidskin shoes.

Lilac - a cotton choli with intricate embroidery and a matching lehenga, slippers with beadwork and tiny mirrors, a few bangles and sometimes earrings but no necklaces when she’s working.

Tayali - prior to her defection, the same as Fox. afterwards, loose-fitting shirts fashioned out of colorful batiks and ikats - or adire if she can find it, long pants gathered below the knee, the same low-necked boots from her days as a Black Knife, a delicate-looking necklace with an iridescent steel spider pendant.

Vermil - similar to Remin, but even more ornately embroidered, a dress saber slid into a knotted sash, knee-high boots.

Xuan - an airy silk áo dài in various shades of blue and painted or embroidered with waves or flowers or birds, a matching khăng đóng, a silver bib necklace, heeled silk shoes with silver bird wings embroidered on the toes.

14. Do any characters have distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Fox has an x-shaped scar on his cheek, Hemlock has a thin slash on his cheek, and both have multiple scars on the rest of their bodies. Lilac has a birthmark on her upper thigh. Tayali has scars similar to Fox’s but none visible while clothed.

15. Which character most fits a character trope?

Vermil is pretty “evil king” but I’m trying to give his character some more depth than that.

16. Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Remin is both a good and straight up awful writer. He’s great at academic writing and diplomatic missives, so unfathomably bad at love letters. Other than him, I would say Lilac or Xuan are the best writers, and Hemlock is probably the worst.

17. Which character is the best liar? Worst?

Fox is the best liar, Remin is the worst.

18. Which character swears the most? Least?

Hemlock swears most! He drops f-bombs left and right (altho not in the text bc I’m trying to keep things YA-friendly). Remin swears least because of his ingrained manners.

19. Which character has the best handwriting? Worst?

Remin has very proper penmanship with perfect curlicues and all that jazz. Fox has really pretty handwriting that’s flowy and sort of spidery but still easy to read. Hemlock’s handwriting is the worst comparatively, but it’s not actually bad. It’s just very plain and straightforward.

20. Which character is most like you? Least like you?

Personality-wise I’m most like Hemlock, but culturally I’m v much Fox. Diaspora, homesick for my mother country, bilingual etc.

21. Which character would you most like to be?

I think I’d like to be one of the non-field Spiders. I would just craft things for them to use or help forge documents.

I tag @issun-boshi @longsightmyth and @spaceshipkat (it’s laini). Feel free to join in even if I haven’t tagged you, and tag me so I can see your answers!

#tag game #about me #stars in the dark #papersky-pencilstars

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rolltidewrestlingfan4life · 5 years

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THIS IS VERY LONG AND VERY PERSONAL FOR ME. YOU MAY FIND IT AN ENJOYABLE STORY. I DID NOT PLAN TO WRITE A VIRTUAL NOVELLA BUT MY HEART AND SOUL STARTED POURING.

I didn’t do this back in February but this man deserves the mention and respect. This is the man that raised me. The man I idolize. He died February 5th as I was performing CPR on him or just before. I’m happy that he had a very quick and painless death that I believe he was expecting and prepared for. This man was born in New Hampshire and took a job in the 8th grade, he never returned to school and usually worked 2 jobs 6 days a week. His family moved back and forth between New Hampshire and Vermont. He got his first car when his brother’s car broke down, his brother traded him a 48 Ford for a bicycle.He loved riding his Indian motorcycle until a car slowed too fast in front of him and he collided and flew over the top of the car, miraculously his only injuries were cuts and knocked out teeth. In 1955, he made the decision to join the US Air Force.It would be the decision that triggered his destiny, After completing basic training he returned home to New Hampshire, gave his brother his air force ring as a momento (I have it now) and headed to Savannah Georgia where he was stationed.

431 miles away, in a booming coal mining town deep in the country of central Alabama, there lived a teenage girl in her senior year of high school. She didn’t really care for any of the boys in her town though she would “take them from their girlfriends to prove she could” She had an aunt and uncle that lived up in the big city in Birmingham, that is..until her Uncle joined the Army. Ironically, he was station in Savannah.

As fate would have it, the man from Alabama met the young man from New Hampshire and they became friends. One day there was a special event at the base where family was invited, the teenage girl came with her aunt to see her Uncle. In the cool twilight of the day the girl was walking outside when she saw a man sitting on a bench beneath an oak tree. The tree was huge,it had stood for many decades if not a century, the tree had wisdom in it’s soul. She stared at the young man in the distance. The sun was fading as swamp moss swayed in the breeze as the night began to overtake the day. She saw a flicker of light as the young man lit a Lucky Strike with his zippo. “he looks just like Elvis Presley” she thought. Something in the breeze made her sneeze, try as she might she could not hold it in. The young man turned at the sound and stopped in his tracks. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever saw and he had to meet her. He approached her and introduced himself, he was the young man from New Hampshire. They spent a lot of that night sitting under that mighty oak and talking about their pasts, their presents and their hopes for the future.

Not long after the meeting, the man was deployed to Morocco in North Africa. Morocco had been under French control and the locals were ready for a revolution. He was a photographer, after a battle between the rebels and the french, he would either sit on the edge or hang from a cord out of a helicopter and take photos of dead bodies, destroyed buildings. He saw a lot of things a man just don’t want to remember while he was in Africa. When he was being sent home, the airplane he was in lost an engine over the Bermuda triangle, the plane struggled but managed an emergency landing in the Virgin Islands.. after a day there, he was in the air bound for Savannah.

He was pleasantly surprised and happy to see the girl from Alabama waiting when he and his fellow soldiers stepped off the plane. They went to the movies that day. They would talk on the phone and write long love letters to one another almost daily. I have a shoebox full of these and they span a month, It was clear these two were smitten. One weekend, he decided he had to see her. He went AWOL on a Friday night and drove almost 7 hours through a state he had never seen, to a town he had never heard of. The young girl’s mother had heard about him and knew he was her brother in law’s friend, she also knew her daughter was crazy about him. She invited him in for supper and to talk and get to know the family. When bedtime came though, the young man was made to sleep on the porch. Going AWOL on weekends to spend days in her house and nights alone on her porch became a regular thing until finally, he showed up one weekend with a ring. A week later, they were married in a small church that her family had established decades ago, He was called up to serve in the Bay of Pigs but received his honorable discharge just a week before. He flew to New Hampshire and kissed his momma, got his dad’s guitar (the only thing he had left of his father) and wished his brothers and sisters well. He flew back to his new home and his new wife in Alabama. He opened his own photography studio but business was slow, there just wasn’t a demand for professional photography in this town. He took a job with the owner of a gas station/general store at the end of Main Street, he worked 6 days a week,, delivering items, repairing things and installing huge propane tanks. In 1959, he and his wife had their first child, a daughter. A little boy came in 1961. His father in law was an electrician at the huge hospital in Birmingham Alabama, he got the young man a job in the maintenance department.

He learned much working at the huge University Hospital, he learned about electricity, he learned HVAC, he learned plumbing. He watched and soaked in everything. He was a long way away from the burning corpses he photographed in Africa, or was he? September 15 1963 seemed a usual day at work. Even a slow day, He was working in the attic area of the hospital, running ductwork, secluded from people or news. Around noon he got a call to immediately go to the morgue and repair a broken light. When he got there he climbed his ladder and fixed the light. With the room now bright, he realized he had illuminated bad memories and new sorrow, as he climbed down the ladder he looked down upon the charred and burned bodies of four young innocent girls. One was completely decapitated, barely recognizable as a human, another had metal embedded in her head. He could not fathom what he was seeing, he did not know what he felt. He only knew his heart was broken. He found out later these girls were murdered. The church they were attending sunday school at was bombed, an act of racism in the deep south in 1963. He hated it. This man never liked seeing someone innocent hurt or suffer. He also never saw color, he saw people for being decent or not. He was a part of history that day, however small a part it may have been.

After 5 years of working at the huge hospital in the magic city, he was told of a new, smaller hospital being built. It was closer to home and they were paying more to attract employees. He started in maintenance and engineering the day they hospital opened in 1964. Two months later, the director of plant operations resigned, this position was 3rd in command of the whole hospital and responsible for overseeing engineering, maintenance, and security. At only 26 years old,he was shocked when the position was offered to him. He accepted without hesitation. He was a nervous wreck but it fueled him. His wife took a job at the same hospital.

In 1982, his first grandchild was born, His son had a daughter. A grandson followed in 1984. In 1989, his daughter had her only son. To the man, there was something different about this kid, maybe it was his father not being around, maybe it was fate but the man decided he would mold this kid and raise this kid. He was closer to this kid than the other grandchildren. He fell in love with that baby and as he grew that baby became a kid and loved that man too. From then on out, they were absolutely inseparable.. I am that kid. We would ride dirt roads while Alan Jackson or George Strait, George Jones and Merle Haggard blaring on the radio. I was always the flashlight man. Deep in a dark crawlspace holding it while he worked on electrical wires.. just as he did I was watching, I was learning, I was soaking in his knowledge like a sponge. We would ride the country roads on the weekend, stopping at every yardsale and junkyard we’d pass. Oh, how I loved when we’d burn brush or leaves and watch the fire. We’d go fishing and somehow there was always a venomous snake and he always killed it with a wooden handle floating fishing knife. I still have that knife today.

His father in law had passed in 1984 and his mother in law’s health was failing, His wife retired early from the hospital in 2001 to take care of her. Her aunt and the Uncle that had arranged their meeting way back in Savannah were also gravely ill, she moved them in too. He kept working at the hospital,He was the man that made that place run. His mother in law passed in late 2001. In 2003, her uncle passed away. It had come full circle. He had made it possible for them to meet and they had returned the favor by caring for him, her aunt followed him in death shortly after.

By this time, his granddaughter had two daughters and he and his wife had been through a lot caring for 3 bedridden people for 3 years. When he received word that the huge hospital in Birmingham he had left 40 years ago was taking over the hospital, he retired. For the next 19 years, It was yard sales, brush fires, and working on houses. I was grown but I was still a kid, still watching his every move, still his helper, still his flashlight man. In 2017, he suddenly grew weaker. He still worked and pushed himself as hard as he could but something was wrong. He knew it. He just didn’t know what. Through 2018 I became the main repairman, he just couldn’t do it anymore. His leg and back had great pain. He lit the pilot light with me and all but collapsed as we exited the basement. His legs had grown week and just gave out on him. Later that day I had to repair something in the attic, I will never forget him saying “I’m sorry, I’d help you if I could, I’d even just hold your flashlight but I gotta say in my chair right now, you know what you’re doing son.” Neither of us spoke it, but that was a powerful moment.. He had called me son. All of my life, I never saw him as my grandad, though I did call him Papa. I called him dad from that day forward. Later that year, I bought a fuel pump for his truck, I love that truck. I bought new tires and got it running. When he saw it running, he told me “You did a good job getting her going son, take care of YOUR truck.” He knew he had grown old, his memory had began failing, his legs weakening. He had passed his role as the fixer around three houses, and he had passed his truck to me.

Through 2018 most of our time together was spent in his den, him in his recliner, me on the couch, nana in hers. We watched NASCAR, we watched every Alabama football game together, when nana was gone.. me and Papa would watch reruns of Gunsmoke, and Mash. He passed out at a store in late 2018 and was admitted to the hospital, all the test revealed nothing wrong, they attributed the pain to a nerve. On February 4 2019, He really wanted a haircut to the point the barber had to stay late to wait for us. It was a 15 minute drive to the barbershop and he and I talked, we talked about memories, we talked about friends who had died, and family who had died. His memory was sharp as a tack that day. On the way home, I asked him why he was in such a hurry for a haircut.. He reached over and put his hand on my knee, gave me a gentle pat.. his eyes.. the same eyes that had seen dead bodies in Africa, burnt little girls dead in alabama, that had seen 60 years of a wonderful marriage, 2 children, 2 grandchildren and 4 great grandchildren, those same eyes looked at me. There was a focus yet a distance in them as he answered “I just felt like I needed to look good for tomorrow.”

The next morning, I woke up around 7 as usual and walked next door to their house, he wasn’t awake yet. He had started sleeping in, or just laying in the bed. It had gotten to where by the time he got up and got dressed, his legs were so weak he had to lay right back down. I got my coffee and visited with my grandmother a while and refilled my cup and went home. A couple hours later I had the strongest urge to go see him, as I got up I noticed my coffee cup was full. “He’s probably not up yet, I’ll wait until all my coffee is gone then I’ll see him.” That was a decision I will always regret.

Maybe 30 minutes later, As I was listening to the The Rolling Stones through my headphones, I heard the sound of my little cousin screaming. She was outside running toward my house just screaming help and crying at the top of her lungs. I ran outside and she yelled it’s papa. The whole world became a blur. I knew nothing. Nothing was familiar. It was so fast yet so slow. All I knew was I was me, and he was him. I loved him. He was my life and I was his. I had to get ti him. I ran faster than I ever dreamed I could, I didn’t even notice doors or steps.. Though I had to have somehow seen them. Everything was blur. I was here, he was there. It felt like an hour but it was really less than a minute. I got to him. There he was, laying on his back in front of his bedroom door. As soon as I saw him, his words about his haircut the day before played in my mind. I knew he was gone. He was my Papa, my dad, my friend, my teacher, my everything. I had to try and bring him back. I immediately started cpr. 911 advised me to do mouth to mouth as well, when I did, I tasted blood. I never stopped cpr. I knew je was gone. In that moment, his kid finally became a man. I felt different, I finally felt just like him. My Mind 2 months later is still in the floor with him. Today, I let that go. He would want me too. He would say sometimes, well we tried everything.. that thing just can’t be fixed. A couple nights ago I had a dream, so vivid. It was an exact replay. I was over his body desperately performing CPR, suddenly, in the dream.. he appeared and pulled me away from his own body. It was clear this was his spirit as he put his arm around me and hugged me and said “It just gave out on me, you tried everything, that old thing just couldn’t be fixed.” He lived an amazing life. The world will not remember nor remark him but today I celebrate him. I celebrate him for going from an 8th grade education to an air force photographer to spending 40 years as director of engineering at a hospital. I celebrate him for being a rock who always helped his family or those in need. I celebrate him for picking me. It’s no secret I was his favorite. He never tried to hide it, not to spite the others. This man loved all of his grandchildren equally.. There was just something different with me. It was like we were twins. We were just inseparable. I write all this to celebrate him and to let him go. My mind must stop trying to bring him back. He lived his life and he is now free from pain and a failing body. He is learning all the mysteries, he is getting all the answers so that he can teach me when I get there. I love you so much Papa, your soul is in heaven, but your spirit is in me. I see you in my eyes, I wear your belt buckle and I use your tools. I drive our truck. Your fingerprints are everywhere. It’s okay that you’re not here in your body. You’ve left a mark on everything. You will always be alive in us. I wish you had lived until I had children, I know you liked the young lady I wish would be mine.I can’t wait until I do have children and I can tell and show them all about their amazing Papa.

Heaven needed a jack of all trades engineer, they got you. Have fun up there, I’ve got it down here, I learned from the best and you taught me well. I will take care of nana, the houses and the rest of the family and hopefully one day I’ll do what you did and move and marry the girl of my dreams. I hope you get to watch my life from up there, and I hope I make you proud.

-JLM

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seojvns · 5 years

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everything you didn’t care to know about seojun yoon.

basic statistics.

full name: seojun yoon.

nickname: jun, junnie, seo.

how'd they get it?: they’re just... variations of his name...

age: twenty one.

date of birth: april 27th.

zodiac: taurus.

gender: male.

sexual orientation: pansexual.

when did they realize this?: around the age he started being interested in people. it’s never been something he’s struggled with, it’s jus how things were/are.

nationality: american.

hometown: daejeon, south korea.

current residence: cortland, wisconsin.

occupation: freelance photographer.

for how long?: umm, probably since high school?? he started out doing it for free, to build his resume, and over time he began building it into something he could actually make money from. not much, but !! getting paid for doing something he loves?? really couldn’t ask for more than that.

do they like his/her job?: obvs!!! does he wish he could have a lot more clients?? ya, but he’s patient and he’s got the time.

salary: mm, depends on the job but probably anywhere from $150-250/job.

family.

any significant ancestors?: ummmm, no.

grandparents (describe relationship): he was really close to his grandmother, on his mom’s side, who passed away a few years ago. he’s close to his grandfather from that side too, but he’s a bit old fashioned in his views and sometimes conversations are... not really something he can take much from. but he likes his company, and overall they have a good relationship. his grandparents on his father’s side both died before he really got a chance to even know them.

aunts/uncles (describe relationship): there’s definitely a distance. when he was younger, he’d see more of them, and his cousins too, but as he grew up... it became less of a tradition his parents and his aunts/uncles bothered to keep up with. he sees them at family gatherings, usually around holidays, but that’s about it.

parents (describe relationship): there’s a lot of distance between him and his parents. his father’s always been distant, even at a young age he wasn’t very invested in seojun. but he’d buy him things, assuming that was a decent enough way to show his ‘love,’ but it only made seojun resentful of the money he tried to use in an attempt to get out of actually caring or showing interest. his mother, on the other hand, cared. but only when he was young. from the time he was adopted, at age five, until about eleven. after that she became more disinterested in him. she also started nitpicking him a lot?? like no snacks, finding a poem and critiquing it, etc. support wasn’t something he was given, which is why he’s become such a desperate lil people pleaser.

are they still together?: yes, yep.

what is the character's family life like: it was really lonely growing up, cause even if everyone was home they’d all be off doing their own things. usually seojun was in his room writing, or out exploring and taking photos. he probably would’ve found his way to his hobbies regardless, but their neglect definitely encouraged him to explore them in a way he might not have done much sooner.

what does their family love most about them?: hmm, probably his manners. he’s a good boy and he’d never embarrass them or anything when they drag him to events or parties, so, yeah!

hate?: they see him as too shy, and lacking of a personality, but really that’s just because they’ve kind of made him feel like he should just keep quiet and do what he’s told :/ and that’s exactly what he does.

does the family have a specific set of values?: his parents are very much the type of people who want everything to look perfect on the outside, and not care much about how they actually are on the inside.

what would their family be described like by another person?: reserved, well put together, successful.

have they ever had any pets?: he did! he had a dog, a samoyed, which he got from his parents for his seventh birthday. his name was ghost,, original, i know!

what happened to them?: he died a few years ago :/ it was a rly rough time for jun, who basically had him throughout his entire childhood.

relationships.

are they a virgin?: umm, nope.

how did they lose it?: i’m embarrassed just thinkin abt it.

have they ever cheated on a partner?: never would he ever!!!

has a partner ever cheated on them?: probably.

how did they react?: better question - did he ever find out? doubtful.

who was their first crush?: hard to say :/ he gets a new crush everyday :/

are they in any kind of romantic relationship?: no!!

how serious/relaxed is it?: hmph.

describe the relationship with their current partner: this is... pointless...

how did they meet?: why ask so many questions based on the POTENTIAL of him bein in a relationship...

who made the first move?: prob not seojun in any situation ... he’s not very bold

how does your character truly feel about their partner?: this.... is so redundant...

when did they realize this?: thank u, next!

who is your characters closest friend?: minnie uwu

how did they meet?: umm they’ve been bffs for as long as seojun can remember okay!!! so how they met is just one of those things he doesn’t... rly remember bc it feels like he’s known her his WHOLE entire life, u know??

why do they get along so well?: because they’re both cute and soft and they just vibe together well ok,, why question these things?? there’s been so many late nights up talking about anything n everything, so many heartbreaks that she’s been there for, so many adventures they’ve had n have yet to have... she’s his other half!!! <333

describe relationship with any other significant friends: adrian’s one of the most important ppl to him ?? like ever?? cause he’s jun’s best friend but also a lot more than that. even though they can’t seem to get things right, he’s always gonna have feels for adrian. kian......... gross where do i even begin!!!! seojun would literally die for kian. he’s more than his roomie ok seojun’s so disgustingly attached that no matter what kian did he’d never leave his side lmao #dedicated. jiwon is who seojun would be if he could choose his life sjfsfks she’s jus so,, uwu perfect n everything he aspires to be. he LUVS her even tho she can lowkey be a lil scary?? not in like a way that he’s legit scared but like... she can be intimidating a lil bit. rt if u agree

favorites.

favorite foods: sushi, korean fried chicken, fries.

least favorite food: black licorice, celery.

favorite colors: pale yellow and light pink.

least favorite color: whatever the fuck u call the color blue that tumblr chose for the new bg color fksdjfs

music: pop, r&b.

literature: mysteries!!

smell: honeysuckles, bonfires, fresh bread.

feeling: affection uwu

season: autumn.

pets: dogs, but... he loves cats too :/

place: hmm, he’s really drawn to the woods?? like when he was younger he’d go into the woods with his camera and a book and just spend all fucking day out there. there’s something really peaceful about it ?? and there’s just so much to experience... the woods jus make him soft, k??

favorite sport(s): huh

possession this character values most: his camera!!!!!!!! his journals filled with poems about everyone he knows.

why is it so important to them?: um, his camera is p obvious?? his poetry filled journals, well, that’s p obvious too. he doesn’t want to forget how he felt in the moments where he was inspired to write whatever he wrote.

physical characteristics.

height: 5′8′‘.

weight: 130 lbs.

body build: slim.

eye color: brown.

glasses or contact lenses?: contact lenses, but sometimes he’ll wear his glasses when he’s feelin’ lazy.

hair color: naturally it’s black, but he prob keeps it either light pink or blond.

scent: tbh idk what to answer for this, describing someone’s natural scent... hard.

voice: he’s got a soft voice :/

mannerisms: says ‘um’ and ‘uh’ too much, whining about nothing, watching anything/everything with subtitles, turns the tab on a soda can sideways.

style: comfy clothing mostly?? like loose fitting tops and form fitting bottoms.

how do they walk?: like a fucking model tbh???

what are their nervous tics: he’s blushing 99% of the time tbh,, nose scrunches, averting his gaze

usual body posture: umm, i’d say he’s got p good posture?? idk,,

preferred clothing.

underwear: boxer briefs babey!

shirts: loose!! t-shirts, flannels, hoodies. anything oversized.

pants: usually black jeans, like, 9 times out of 10.

skirts: nah.

jackets: more oversized shit.

shoes: prob jus black boots?

accessories: earrings, rings, make up. make up isn’t an accessory rly but i dunno where else to put that so yayuh that’s a thing.

formal wear: umm he’s a classic black suit kinda guy, prob w a bowtie, idk.

sleeping wear: t-shirts and boxer briefs,, do ppl ... actually have real pajamas? like in real life?

swimming wear: swim trunks ig?? weird question but ok.

intellectual/mental/personality attributes and attitudes.

did they go to school?: ya, duh.

where?: west bridge!!!

what did they learn?: he’s studying photography :-)

what were their grades like?: uh, they’re alright... could be better... he wants to do better but his focus is usually just... anywhere but where it should be. so he procrastinates, and turns in things late a lot, and still is trying to do better.

native language: korean.

do they know any other languages?: english.

how smart are they?: not... very... both book smart and street smart.

what is their strengths?: creativity, generosity, compassion.

weaknesses?: time management, insecurity, awareness.

character's short-term goals in life: don’t go to jail, pass all classes.

character's long-term goals in life: have a lil photography studio and live happily ever after uwu

how does your character see themselves?: umm, he’s self aware enough to know that he’s kind of sheepish?? he feels like he’s probably awkward in,, so many situations, rip, but he tries his best to not be too weird skfjs

how does your character believe they are perceived by others?: as a soft boy who wants to be everyone’s friend?? hopefully??

how self-confident is your character?: UM LOL NOT AT ALL

what makes their self-confidence waver?: everything,, he just never feels like he’s good enough?? prob because of his mom’s nitpicking, his parents’ lack of interest generally, and the fact that he just has a low self esteem overall.

what would embarrass your character the most?: being put on the spot about anything, having too much attention, falling for someone who doesn’t like him.

how does your character feel about love: he!! loves love!!! he rly thinks that there’s someone out there for everyone... maybe not in a ~soulmates~ sense, but he thinks that companionship is a big part of happiness.

about crime: he doesn’t commit crimes... often... but if he does it’s because he can be talked into almost anything.

people of a different sexuality?: loves everyone, thanks.

different nationality/race?: loves everyone, thanks.

how does your character show affection/love?: listening to them n remembering things they’re told, hand holding, doing literally anything they ask.

how does your character handle grief? not well. especially in the case of manon, which has left him with a terrible sleeping pattern and the heavy feeling of guilt.

what are they like when they cry?: prob like really dramatic,, like cry a lot while curled up in his bed under the covers kinda cry.

what can make them cry?: betrayal, loss, anxiousness, stress.

how does your character handle physical pain?: not well, he probably whines a lot and pouts even more.

emotional pain?: even worse. he’s so forgiving that even if someone hurt him emotionally, he’d forgive them, but he’d probably be lowkey sad (but in a self blame kind of way) about it for awhile.

is your character typically a leader or a follower?: big time follower.

what kind of energy level does your character typically display?: soft, upbeat,

describe their sense of humor: prob either lame or softly sarcastic.

hobbies: takin pics, writing poems, making playlists for people that’ll never hear them, watching shows instead of studying.

talents: ...takin pics, writing poems, making playlists for people that’ll never hear them...

extremely unskilled at: focusing! and sports.

if any, what musical instruments can they play?: piano :-)

emotional characteristics.

how does the character relate to others?: through soft interactions and deep conversations. he’s pretty honest and open, so if someone asks him something, or even just talks to him, chances are he’s being as open with them as he would be with his close friends.

how does the character deal with anger?: not well, but when he’s angry, he’s usually more upset than angry? and he wants to resolve things as quickly as possible, otherwise he’s stressed abt it until it’s fixed.

with sadness?: listens to sad music and cries in the shower. drama queen.

with conflict?: he’s always the first to apologize.

with change?: he’s actually pretty adaptable for the most part?? but if it were like a major change, maybe not as good.

with loss?: ummm, could be better!! probably gets a lil distant when he’s dealing with a loss.

what does your character want out of life?: happiness :/

what would your character like to change in his/her life?: the whole manon thing JFKLSF

what motivates your character?: his future, or at least the ideal future he has in mind for himself.

what frightens your character?: the fact that they could get caught for covering up a murder perhaps??? terrifying.

are they afraid of the dark?: ...yes, but he acts like he isn’t cause he’s embarrassed.

death?: not really?? like he doesn’t WANT to die or anything, but he’s not afraid of death.

what makes your character happy?: listening to good music, giving people things that make him think of them, the photo editing process.

sad?: being alone, the fact that his parents never care to check up on him, films where the main couple doesn’t end up together.

angry?: people being rude to his friends, being lied to, unnecessarily passive aggressive people.

aroused?: neck kisses, being called baby, someone who’s rly direct and just kind of... does what they want skjfsl

annoyed?: people who speak over other people.

guilty?: covering up a potential murder, turning things in late, lying.

is your character judgmental of others?: no. even if he doesn’t agree with their opinions/things they do he still tries to refrain from judgment.

is your character generous or stingy?: generous af.

is your character generally polite or rude?: polite!! angel boy.

optimistic or pessimistic?: optimistic.

introvert or extrovert?: lil bit of both??

daredevil or cautious?: cautious.

logical or emotional?: emotional lmao.

disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?: he thinks he’s methodical and neat but he’s actually disorderly and messy.

would they rather be working or relaxing?: working, even though he thinks he’d rather be chillin he’s kind of terrible at doing nothing.

how do they feel about animals?: um... he loves them?? he’s the kind of person that’d accidentally let a raccoon in his house and let it stay.

what is their best quality?: his sincerity.

what is their biggest flaw?: how trusting he is.

#sjflskf what do i even tag this as #about.#u kno those myspace surveys ppl used to do #like in bulletin boards?#that's kinda what this felt like #v relaxing

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stevecanmakeanythingnerdy · 5 years

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Battle #11

The Monkees: S/T (side 2)

Vs.

The Promise Ring: Very Emergency (side 1)

The Monkees: S/T (side 2)

The Monkees were an American rock and pop band originally active between 1966 and 1971, with reunion albums and tours in the decades that followed. They were formed in Los Angeles in 1965 by Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider for the American television series The Monkees which aired from 1966 to 1968. The musical acting quartet was composed of Americans Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith, and Peter Tork; and British actor and singer Davy Jones. The Monkees are often (mistakenly) lumped into a pigeonhole of manufactured boy bands with no talent. While it IS TRUE that The Monkees were selected specifically to appeal to the youth market as American television's response to the Beatles, and with their manufactured personae and carefully produced singles, it is NOT true that they are talentless. They often are seen as an original precursor to the modern proliferation of studio and corporation-created bands, but again were not the first and certainly not the last. In fact, the Monkees basically pioneered the music video format [and band member Mike Nesmith dreamed up the prototype for what would become MTV] and paved the way for every boy band that followed in their wake, from New Kids on the Block to 'N Sync to Jonas Brothers. Davy set the stage for future teen idols like David Cassidy and Justin Bieber. As pop stars go, you would be hard pressed to find a successful artist who didn't take a page from the Monkees' playbook, even generations later. The Monkees had an influence on the punk rockers and new wave scene too. Many of these punk performers had grown up on TV reruns of the series, and sympathized with the anti-industry, anti-Establishment trend of their career. Sex Pistols and Minor Threat both recorded versions of "(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone" and it was often played live by Toy Love. The Japanese new wave pop group the Plastics recorded a synthesizer and drum-machine version of "Last Train to Clarksville" for their 1979 album Welcome Back. Not bad for a made up band. The Monkees reach is deep and long lasting. Eventually The Monkees did become a real and functional band winning the rights to produce and record music, as many of them were experienced musicians from the start. So this, then is their debut, meant largely to be a soundtrack to the television series. It starts off with one of the most well known tunes “Last Train To Clarksville”. It is excellent almost garage pop stuff, very catchy and centered firmly around that familiar falling riff. “This Just Doesn’t Seem to be My Day” follows quickly (no really, none of their songs are much more than 2 and a half minutes). It is a poppier and faster ditty. Nothing terribly memorable, but a filler or placeholder for certain. “Let’s Dance On” shakes it up a little. Literally as it’s almost the same song in a different chord. Rock and roll twister. Very catchy though, and the harmonica makes an appearance. “I’ll Be True To You” is another ballad type song, with Davey J. front and center. Swoon and croon, complete with whispers...target (audience) captured. “Sweet Young Thing” is practically a preview of “head”-psych garage level with some decent pedal use. Pretty sure I hear violin too. See? This is what I mean. No one takes The Monkees seriously, but these songs are actually well crafted and played by real musicians. The difference between then and now. Real versus manufactured. The last take is “Gonna Buy Me A Dog”. It’s a humorous number with laughs and outtakes and seemingly not scripted fun. I truly believe this was an actual take in the recording booth. I think, despite all the controversy about their legitimacy, this band had some amazingly catchy tunes and really captured the national attention.

The Promise Ring: Very Emergency (side 1)

The Promise Ring is an American rock band from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. They gained an underground cult following and are widely cited as helping create the second wave of emo rock. The band was started in 1995 as a side project by Davey von Bohlen during his time as a guitarist/vocalist for Cap'n Jazz. Von Bohlen started the project alongside guitarist Jason Gnewikow of None Left Standing, drummer Dan Didier and bassist Scott Beschta, the latter two both being former members of Ceilishrine. TPR quickly carved themselves a niche in the scene though. All the vintage sweater wearing, backpack carrying, black plastic glasses having kids were obsessed with this band. For good reason too. They know how to write a great pop hook. Davey (Hey! Both bands today had a Davey!! Crazy!) has some unique vocals that contribute to the whole package. “Happiness is all the Rage” is the opening act. It’s purposeful and directly depressed vocals help define the emo pop they helped craft. Really by this album (their third effort ) it’s pretty straight forward power pop. “Emergency! Emergency!” Follows. I believe this little gem saw some Mtv airplay. It has a beautiful cadence with those subtle guitar chicka-chicka’s.

S.O.S. I’m in love with this tune! (#seewhatididthere) The drum attack is also perf. We up the tempo a little on “The Deep South”. Some nice rim shots of sugar and spice. A touch of background vocals for the harmony symphony. It’s the tiny details like that, and the understanding of those details that solidify this band as true masters of their craft. “Happy Hour” has a happy riff and good merry-go-round lyrics that conceal the deal. The last cut is titled “Things Just Getting Good”. A slower ballad for sure, and has that feel of a cool fall day. You know, leaves just starting to turn colors and a nice warm night fire with marshmallows. The band introduced through song just adds to the personality of it all. I love the fact it’s on orange blossom cream wax, and looks very pretty spinning on the platter. I also feel like this band really helped shape the current trend of vintage graphics...things like insta filters and sepia tones. You know, that faded old photo look. I had the good fortune of seeing this band on more than a few occasions in the basement, before all the excitement and exposure explosion. I can tell you, they are real and true. Every song was heartfelt. You can’t help but dance around like the Peanuts gang to this collection of tunes. Good stuff.

So The Monkees were busy Monkee-ing around (#seewhatididthere), but they still managed to burn 108 calories over 6 songs and 15 minutes. That is 18 calories burned per song and 7.20 calories burned per minute. The Monkees earned 13 out of 18 possible stars. The Promise Ring on the other hand was VERY Emergency and brought back 1996 for me. They burned 135 calories over 5 songs and 18 minutes. That is 27 calories burned per song and 7.50 calories burned per minute. The Promise Ring earned 12 out of 15 possible stars. Looks like the only Emergency was the urgency of The Promise Ring to prove they had the goods! TPR wins!

The Promise Ring: “Emergency! Emergency!” (Sorry the video is so crappy, but I didn’t upload it)

https://youtu.be/1dTaeWeRUWw

#Randomrecordworkoutseasonsix

#Randomrecordworkout

#randomrecordworkout #randomrecordworkoutseason6 #vinyl #records #promise ring #jade tree #monkees #the monkees #60s #60s music #90s music #90s #workout #ring #promise #indie rock #emo

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in78weeks-blog · 5 years

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November 23-29: Aruba, Beyond the Beaches

For the most part, all of my trips are meant to help me learn more about people of all backgrounds to better understand my place in this world, and to find out how to use my privilege to share the beauty of cultures with the world. When I go to explore a new place, sometimes I have a good idea of what I’m getting myself into but I try not to have an expectation of what my trip is going to look like.

But when my family and I decided to go to Aruba for our thanksgiving vacation, I was just excited to be escaping the Colorado cold, and I didn’t really know what to expect. I didn’t do too much research about Aruba and figured we would take it one day at a time. It’s a small island anyway, how much could there possibly be to do? Hint: There is surprisingly a lot.

After travelling for over 12 hours, we finally landed in Oranjestad, Aruba and were too exhausted to do anything too adventurous. We picked up our rental car, went to our first hotel, and took a moment to rest. While my mom took a quick nap, my dad and I walked to the beach that was a couple minutes from the hotel.

While adjusting to the sights and warmth of the island, our commentary didn’t stray far from “Wow, I can’t believe we’re actually here.” We wandered back to the hotel, met up with my mom, and ventured toward the southern end of what I would later discover as the “Resort Town”, grabbed an incredibly overpriced meal for dinner, and called it a night. Tomorrow is going to be a great day.

Most people that go to Aruba tend to stay within the 5 mile stretch of beaches and resorts and choose not to venture away from the comforts of their resort. I understand that not everyone likes to be active on vacation and I understand that there is value in relaxation, but I believe that “resort vacations” create more limitations than opportunities for travelers. Though Aruba is a small island, there is so much to do and see, and staying in the confines of a hotel limits that experience.

We began driving down to the south end of the island, and watched the resorts slipped away into the distance, and the buildings began to resemble the homes of the locals, and I was glad to see that the local culture was still alive on this tourism-heavy island. Bright-colored, run-down houses lined the pothole-covered dirt roads, and stray dogs wandered these roads in the midday heat. Parked in front of the houses were cars, trucks and vans with rust damage from the salt water. Our tiny kia picanto, while its crooked license plate, manual locks, and hand crank windows may have been a gesture of humility, stood out with its giant “payless car rental” sticker plastered in the back window.

Our first stop was the Red Anchor that was built in memory of a fallen seaman. After stopping to snap a couple of photos, we continued our drive toward the lighthouse at the southern tip of the island. While I was mindlessly looking out the window and enjoying the Caribbean music on the radio, I realized we were driving by a cemetery. Hundreds of crosses, rock piles, and makeshift plaques filled the grassy field, and after giving the crosses and plaques a closer look, I realized that it was a cemetery for pets.

Our drive up to the Sero Colorado Lighthouse was slow and careful, but I didn’t mind because the landscape was so unique. Never before have I seen cacti and palm trees growing alongside each other along the beach.

We began our journey back into town to grab some lunch. San Nicolas isn’t a popular destination for tourists so yelp and google weren’t very informative about the restaurant options in the area. Because the southern part of the island isn’t well visited, I was hopeful that the restaurants would be more authentic, and more reasonably priced compared to the restaurants in the resort town. Luckily, I was able to find a Caribbean restaurant in downtown San Nicolas so we decided to go there.

While looking over the menu, and having a hard time deciding what to order, a group of locals sat at the table next to us. One of them ordered a seafood curry so I decided to trust the judgement of the locals and order the same. I was not disappointed.

Before heading to our next destination, we decided to walk around downtown to admire the murals that we saw on our drive in. Every street-facing wall was adorned with bright colored murals of all different styles, and the trees and streetlights were covered with holiday decorations, which felt oddly out of place.

While looking to see if there was any bouldering locations on the island, I discovered that there were two “boulder fields” or rock formations on the island, one was called Casibari Rock Formations and the other was called Ayo Rock Formations. There were no formal routes at each of these locations, but it appeared there were decent boulders that would make for some fun challenges.

We decided to head to the Casibari Rock Formations first. I was expecting lots of visitors to such a unique destination, but was surprised when we were the only ones there. As we walked around the boulder field, we found a steep, stone staircase that led up to the top of a hill. It wasn’t until I reached the top of the steps that I realized that this boulder field was located near the center of the island. We were treated with a 360-degree view of the island with a epic view of Sero Hooiberg, or Mount Hooiberg - the lone mountain standing in the middle of the island. I was also surprised at how big the island looked from this viewpoint. I was able to see the beach far off in the distance to the west, but lost the coastline as I moved my eyes toward the north and the south, and I could only see mountains to the east.

I took some time to enjoy the view from the top of the Casibari Rocks. Since arriving here and realizing that tourism was quickly dominating the economy and culture of Aruba, my heart has been unsettled. I love travel because it grants me the opportunity to appreciate God’s creativity through experiencing unique cultures. At the same time, I wrestle with the thought that as a traveler, I am indirectly supporting the tourism industry that has a tendency of disrupting the lifestyle of the local people. I struggle with understanding the balance between celebrating a culture for its uniqueness and filtering my experience through financially focused entities.

I carried these thoughts with me to the top of this hill, and as I looked around, I saw in the distance the seemingly small patch of land dedicated to the resorts. As I turned around and saw the vast land around me that looked untouched by foreign hands, my heart felt more at ease. I walked back down the steps at Casibari with a stronger sense of responsibility for presenting travel destinations and the people of those cultures as honestly as I can, and to reduce my cultural impact as much as I can when I travel to foreign places.

There weren’t any boulders at Casibari Rock that I wanted to climb, so we headed toward our next destination - the Ayo Boulders. Walking along the path through the unique Ayo rock formations, I found a boulder that I recognized from the climbing resources I read online, so I strapped on my climbing shoes and began scouring my way up the side of the rock.

It had been awhile since I had climbed and fear definitely kicked in as I climbed with no protection, but trusting my skill, strength and technique, I was able to send a humble boulder. Climbing back down on the backside of the boulder, we continued to walk among the boulders of the park.

Walking through the boulders, I felt like a kid on a playground. The path led us through dark tunnels, narrow walkways and sketchy steps. We ventured off the path to get a better view of the park and my goofy mom played around on the rocks like a kid. Adopting a new set of scrapes from squeezing through small spaces, we began to wander back to the car.

We wrapped up our night by walking around the resorts, stopping into shops to see if there were any knick-knacks we wanted to bring home. After enjoying an overpriced meal and an overpriced drink, we made our way back to our resort and called it a night. I went to bed excited about the full day of adventure planned for tomorrow at Arikok National Park.

When I was researching things to see in Arikok National Park, the two most popular destinations were Quadrikiri cave and the Conchi Natural Pool. I was determined to go to both of these locations, even if that meant spending the entire day in the park. Since I had put in the most time and effort in researching the national park, my parents gave me the go ahead to plan the day.

After we received our bright orange wristbands, we entered the park and began our very slow drive to the eastern edge of the park. Our low-clearance kia picanto struggled over the 50 storm water runoffs on our way to our first destination, but we eventually made it in one piece. We stopped our car at Boca Prins - a beach with that was sandwiched between two 50-foot cliffs. Watching the waves crash against the cliffs and erupt into a splash of water as the forces of nature collided was awe-inspiring.

We stopped in at the restaurant parking lot where we saw the horrific image of a young man sitting in in the passenger seat of a UTV with a serious chest injury. His white t-shirt was covered in blood and he clenched the left side of his chest, and his facial expressions made it clear he was holding back tears and probably a colorful set of words.

We heard sirens off in the distance so knowing that help was on the way, we continued on to the highly anticipated destination - Quadrikiri Cave.

I saw photos of this cave online while looking into the places to go in the national park and I’ve been excited at an opportunity to take a cool photo here. From the outside, it didn’t look like much, a set of stairs that led up to the entrance of the cave and a sign that depicted a mythological story about the cave’s foundation. We carefully walked up the steep steps to the entrance of the cave, ducked our heads and stepped into the darkness. About 50 feet in front of us was a spotlight from above, but it was just far enough away to keep us from being able to see the ground below our feet. As we approached the light ahead, we walked into a dome like space with a natural skylight that powerfully lit up the room.

We continued deeper into the earth through a dark narrow tunnel into another open space with another pair of skylights that shined down into the middle of the room like a spotlight. We were the only ones in the cave for awhile and the eerie silence was broken only by my mom’s continual reminder that she was afraid of the dark and wanted to leave. We visited one more cave, Fontein cave, which housed some petroglyphs of the native islanders.

Most of the day so far had been in the comfort of our car so we decided to go on a hike. We drove to the north entrance of the park and began our hike to the Conchi Natural Pool. The Conchi Natural Pool is essentially an arc of rocks along the rocky coast that form a convenient pool of water that is somewhat shielded from the rough waters of sea. There are many paths to get to the pool, but due to the aggressively rocky terrain, the only way to reach the pool is by UTV or by foot.

The hike was three miles round trip so with our cameras, and swimsuits in hand, we began to walk. Groups of UTVs drove past us and I could have been jealous of how much faster they would get to the natural pool, but I was happy to be in the sun and stretching my legs.

The Conchi Natural Pool was full of people splashing around and having a good time. At this point in the day, the tide was coming in so the waves were splashing against the rock arc and creating a heavy current in the pool. My mom, who carries a very real fear of swimming, chose against swimming in the rough waters and found a more quiet secluded place to swim instead.

The place we found was on the north side of the beach and had plenty of small shallower pools to splash around in. My dad was experimenting with his new 4K underwater camera while my mom and I splashed and played in the water as if we were kids. After thoroughly enjoying time at the pool, we were ready to take cover from the harsh sunlight. We grabbed our bags and began the 1.5 mile hike back to the car.

People sped by us in their Jeeps as we walked through the hot sun, and I took a moment to ask myself if I felt like I was missing out on a unique experience by not spending the money to rent a Jeep and drive around the trails on the island. After giving it some thought, I didn’t feel like joining a Jeep tour would change the experience I had in visiting Aruba.

When I travel, my goal is to learn about cultures, interact with people, and better understand the human condition and the way God uniquely created human beings. I love outdoor adventures and rugged expeditions, but in this situation, taking a Jeep out to the natural landmarks of the island versus walking to them didn’t make a difference on how much I appreciated them.

My family and I have always been budget travelers with the occasional spendy purchase. We tend to avoid tours and vacation packages and prefer to have the freedom to travel on our own agenda, but we also try not to let our frugality keep us from missing out on special opportunities. Through years of traveling together, we’ve learned to recognize our tendencies of being frugal have become better at gauging which experiences are worth spending money on.

We were sun-kissed, sweaty, and sore so we returned to our hotel, enjoyed a beer, and relaxed by the pool for the rest of the evening.

After several days of active exploration, my parents an I were ready to take some time to relax on the beach. Since we were staying at a resort in the Resort Town, we were minutes away from the beach.

We were walking along the beach to find a place to relax for the morning, and I noticed a section of the beach was blocked off for construction. I unfortunately didn’t realize that the fence was being held up by a concrete block that was hidden under the sand, and slammed my pinky toe into the concrete block.

Breaking my toe wasn’t even the worst part. My mom broke her sandals while we were at the Conchi Natural Pool and was thinking about buying a new pair. As a proud owner of the Chacos Women’s Z1 Sandals, I tried convincing her to that Chacos was the way to go. My dad is a proud owner of Keens and tried convincing her to that Keens were far superior to Chacos. Having broken my toe walking around on the beach in my Chacos, my mom was convinced that Chacos would not be the next sandal she invested in. I was in pain and defeated.

I didn’t read any raving reviews about the Aruba Aloe Factory and Museum so at first, I didn’t think to make the effort to visit it, but since we had the time to do some exploring, we decided to check it out and I am so glad we did.

The tour guide began with an explanation of the benefits of Aloe Vera, its uses cosmetically and medically, and a demonstration of how to harvest the plant. I was impressed with how swiftly the tour guide was able to pull apart the gel from the leaf of the plant and was surprised to hear that at this factory, the harvesting process was done entirely by hand. Our tour guide continued the tour by telling us the history of the Aloe Vera plant on the island of Aruba. The Aloe Vera plant is not native to the island, but after realizing it grew well in the dry and warm climate, Aloe Vera farms and factories began to pop up all around Aruba, becoming the second leading industry on the island after the oil refinery industry.

Since the arrival of the American and European tourism corporations in the 1940s, Aloe Vera farms were driven out of business as hundreds of farms across the island fell to the rapidly growing real estate prices. There are only a handful of Aloe Vera farms remaining in the island, and Aruba Aloe was the largest of them.

The tour guide took us through a incandescent catwalk that looked down into the factory, while explaining the process of harvesting, refining, creating, and bottling up the Aloe Vera cosmetic products. At the conclusion of the tour, we had the opportunity to buy some of the products in their store.

There are 23 houses of worship on the island of Aruba, and majority of them are of the Christian faith. Of those Christian churches, most of them are of the Catholic denomination. Next on our agenda was a visit to the Alta Vista Chapel, one of the Catholic chapels on the island. When I saw a quick review of it online, I wasn’t sure what made this chapel special, but reading up on the history of the church upon our arrival made me realize what made this chapel important among the other churches.

The quaint yellow chapel stood tall at the top of a hill in the middle of a desert landscape with a distant view of the ocean. This chapel was originally built in the 1750s by Venezuelan missionaries, and was recently rebuilt in 1952. This was the chapel where many Aruban natives converted to Christianity, so this place is held close to the hearts of the native peoples.

We saw some hiking trails that lead to the coast, but we had already had a long day of walking and we were afraid that we would run out of sunlight so we decided to move on to the next destination. My mom was curious about a place called “Phillip’s Animal Farm”, so we decided to head in that direction. I wasn’t sure if it was a farm or a zoo, but apparently they had animals there. And I like animals.

We were given a wax bag with treats and carrots, and were told that we could feed any animal EXCEPT the monkeys. Noting that, we walked through the gate and into this mysterious animal farm. As we visited each caged animal, my heart began to break more and more. It was evident that these animals were not happy, and it made me angry that anyone would be able to cage them up like this. We saw all sorts of animals, including ostriches, donkeys, camels, kangaroos, parrots, emus, and ocelots.

We finally reached the monkeys and immediately I could tell that these creatures were not happy to be caged. One of them ran up to cage where I stood, and grabbed the cage bars, looked me in the eye with the saddest expression I had ever seen. I snapped a couple of photos, told the little guy how sorry I was that he had to be caged up and began walking away. As I turned around to start walking away, the little guy began throwing a fit by screaming and waving his arms around like a human child, and when I turned around to face him, he threw a rock directly at my face.

I was in shock. A monkey just him me in the face with a rock.

It took me a moment to process what had just happened, but after a minute or two, the confusion subsided and my heart broke into a million pieces. This poor little punk of a monkey has probably known nothing beyond those four cage walls and is desperate to get out and be free, as he was meant to be.

After a moment, I went back and visited my favorite donkey. I liked him because even if I didn’t have food to give him, he hung out by the fence and let me pet him.

Frustrated at the concept of businesses making money off the suffering of these poor animals, we washed our hands and began to leave the “farm”. Luckily, my dad sparked up a conversation with an employee about what the farm was all about. The employee told us that the farm was owned by a man that deeply cares about animals and took in all of these animals when a zoo closed down on Aruba. Instead of the consequences that would have otherwise fallen on these animals, the owner decided to nurture them back to health and prepare them to be transported either back into their natural habitat or to other zoos if they were too domesticated to be let back into the wild.

Mike was the kind employee that explained all of this to us. We returned to our car and while we were pulling out our GPS to figure out how to get back to the hotel, we heard a knock on our window. Mike had rushed over and asked us if we would be willing to give him a ride to the main street as his car had broken down. My parents were kind enough to let him jump in.

He humbly asked that we drop him off just down the street at the main road, but my parents insisted us take him to his home. While we drove to his home, he asked us where we were from and shared with us a little bit about his background and family. He grew up on the island of Aruba but he doesn’t have too much family here anymore.

He told that most of his family has moved away from the island, his cousins were in the Dominican Republic, and a couple family members moved to the states. He was excitedly telling us that they were going to have a big family reunion sometime in December in the Dominican Republic, but that it’s been difficult being in Aruba without too many of his family members around.

He was so appreciative of us for taking him to his home, and explained that he’s been quite busy lately and hadn’t gotten around to getting his car fixed. He was working full time at the farm, taking night classes, and working a second job on the weekends.

After driving for a solid 10 minutes, we finally got him to where he needed to be. Oh how blessed I am for the life I’ve been granted.

This was our last full day on the island and we only had a couple things left to do. The lighthouse on the south end of the island wasn’t very impressive, but the California lighthouse located on the northern tip of the island was magnificent so we decided to go take a look.

There were big crowds of people coming in and out on tour buses. Most people chose to snap a couple of photos from a distance and hang out around the snacks and souvenir booth. When we approached the door at the base of the lighthouse, we were instructed that we could climb up to the top of the lighthouse for the price of $5. My dad and I excitedly pulled out our wallets, handed the gate keeper our five-dollar bills and opened the door to begin our climb. The inner diameter of the lighthouse was no more than 7 feet and the staircase wound around a concrete post with no handrails. Each step was a little over a foot tall, and on each of the steps there was just enough surface area for the ball of my foot.

The very sketchy climb to the top of the lighthouse was rewarded with a 360-degree view of the northern end of the island. We could see the resort town and golf course to the south west, the mountains of the national park to the south east and the expanse of the ocean to the north.

I found a beach on the map that we hadn’t been to in the southern part of the island near the town of San Nicolas. Though that was a bit of a drive from where we were at, I wanted to find a beach that was less crowded to hang out at so we decided to give it a shot.

It was slightly overcast so the beach was completely empty, so we had the whole beach to ourselves. I was the first to jump into the warm water, but stayed relatively close to shore because there were some sharp rocks further out from shore. My mom decided to join a short while later, and together we floated around and had a good time.

About half an hour after we arrived, another man arrived and joined us in the water. He came and introduced himself - Ferdinand. But his friends call him Ferdi.

He lives a couple blocks away in the town of San Nicolas. He’s retired now, but he used to work in the tourism industry. He’s lived in Aruba for 23 years, and before that, French Guiana, and before that, Suriname. He’s a kind man, and tries to make an effort to reach out to the tourists he sees at this beach. He’s goofy, and tells my mom that he knows a little Japanese. “Ai shiteimasu“, he says. I love you. He laughs, saying he learned how to say "I love you” in many different languages. He lists off those languages. It’s a list too long to remember. My mom jokes back - “you must have many girlfriends around the world“. He laughs.

He has a garden. my parents have a long, drawn out conversation with him about farming and the native plants of the island. My parents are curious about the gardening conditions, what plants grow native here, and why there aren’t any papaya trees in people’s front yards!

I ask Ferdi about the grocery stores. I noticed that all of the grocery stores in Aruba have Chinese names, yet I haven’t seen too many Asian people on this island. Ferdi tells me that the grocery stores have been run by Chinese owners for many years. He’s not sure why, but that’s just how it is.

Ferdi is very knowledgeable about this small part of the world. He loves this island with his whole heart and doesn’t ever see himself living anywhere else. Parts of his life have been challenging and he’s been thrown in a wild loop , but he’s found a home here.

Ferdi had to head back to work on his car, so after giving ourselves some time to dry off in the sun, we drove toward a seafood restaurant in the town of San Nicolas to enjoy a late lunch.

We walked up to a counter with a simple menu - fish of the day, shrimp, corn bead, plantains, tartar sauce. Confused at how we were supposed to order, the young guy at the register explained to us that we pay for the fish by the piece and the shrimp by the weight. Still confused, he showed us how big a piece of fish was, explained that the seafood was battered, seasoned and fried. We ordered two pieces of fish, six shrimps, two plantains, one piece of cornbread and tartar sauce. The total came out to be twenty dollars.

The restaurant was located right on the beach and a dock led out onto the water. At the end of the dock were three tables with umbrellas, so we sit out at one of these tables and eat while enjoying the view of the coastline. While we waited for our food to be prepared, we watched as the chefs skinned, gutted, and de-boned the fish we would soon be eating. The guts and bones went directly overboard into the water and we watched as the seagulls swept into collect their meals and the fish swarmed to get their portion. Even while we were eating our meal, all of our bones and scraps went off the dock and into the beaks if the seagulls or to the hungry fish below our feet.

Right as we left the restaurant, the rain began to pour, but by the time we reached our hotel, the rain had already subsided. Again, we decided to take the evening to rest, and enjoyed our last sunset on the beach. Tropical musical played in the background while the palm trees and waves swayed at a much slower beat. The smell of salt filled my nose as I sat back and watched older couples walking along the beach, hand-in-hand, parents chase down their young ones, and young lovers teasing each other and splashing around the water to finding any excuse to hold each other close.

We had to be at the airport by noon, so we packed up our suitcases and spent our last couple hours lounging on the beach. I put on my swim suit, sunglasses and headphones, and focused on the joyful feeling of having the warmth of the sun against my skin. I would return to the cold climate of Colorado with tan skin, and a rejuvenated spirit.

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