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aitarose · 4 years

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CACTUS JUICE | SOKKA

sokka x reader [fem]

PLOT: Three kids and a flying lemur stranded in the desert with nothing but the bags on their backs, not to mention the boy that’s high on cactus juice.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

A/N: i love boyfriend!sokka but lmao how does suki deal with this?? also this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written, sokka on crack is high quality stuff

MY MASTERLIST

“You look gross.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped in annoyance at her boyfriend’s remarks. She, Sokka, and the rest of the Gaang had been trekking through the desert for hours without any clear path ahead.

With Aang and Appa missing, they had no direction or any idea of what surrounded them. Their only objective was to find someone, anyone who knew the way out of the sand filled hills.

“I’m sorry..what was that you just said to me, Sokka?” Y/N raised her eyebrows at the warrior.

He stared at her with wide eyes while he watched his beloved girlfriend wipe beads of sweat off of her forehead. She was covered in sand, they all were—but Y/N was in a bit of a worse condition than everyone else.

Grains of sand fell from her hair with every step she took. Her clothes were stained with a thick layer of dusk. Dirt gathered beneath her fingernails and was smeared across her cheeks.

“Oh nothing, Y/N.” Sokka laughed sheepishly, cowering slightly from the harsh glare the girl was sending his way.

He slung his wrapped arm over her shoulder, pulling her close whilst the dust migrated to his own body. “The dirt really captures your personality, brings out your character.”

Y/N jokingly pushed Sokka away as she heard sparse giggles from Toph and Katara. Even Aang let out a curt laugh at the couples’ playful antics. It had been a really tough day. It was nice to have some sort of positivity after the incident at the library.

As the group of misfit teens carried on, it was becoming apparent that they wouldn’t be able to go all day without any source of water. The sun was beaming directly above the group, tiring them to near exhaustion and dehydration.

Sokka felt that it had become almost unbearable, to the point where he was using Momo as a sun hat to cover both him and Y/N.

“C’mon guys,” Katara sighed from up ahead. She was trying to keep everyone motivated and optimistic, something she had to do far too often. “We’ve gotta stick together.”

Y/N stifled a laugh as Sokka peeled himself out of their lazy embrace.

“If I sweat anymore,” he sarcastically replied, “I don’t think sticking together will be a problem.”

The group was beginning to become restless, specifically Sokka. He needed some sort of liquid to calm his nerves.

“Look!” He cried, using Y/N’s finger to point to a tower of cacti. Surprised by the strength of his pull, Y/N fell to the ground, sand filling her entire mouth.

“Some boyfriend you are!” She huffed, spitting the tiny morsels into the air as Sokka made his way to the cacti in a trance. “You could’ve at least helped me up!”

Sokka waved his hand dismissively at the girl, “Not now, my little dirt queen. Sokka needs water.”

Everyone watched as he brought his sword down on the plant, making a clean slice. He held the makeshift cup above his head before he chugged the strange juice, not letting any drop go to waste.

Y/N grimaced at the thought of drinking the pale liquid. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Y/N’s right, Sokka.” Katara said, agreeing with her brother’s girlfriend. “You shouldn’t be drinking from strange plants.”

Sokka shrugged whilst he split open yet another cacti. “But there’s water inside these plants!”

He looked up at Y/N as he held up a freshly cut cactus for her to drink out of. She smiled sweetly at the boy before pushing his hand away, knocking over the cup in the process.

“No thanks,” she blatantly said to him. Y/N was thirsty, but not thirsty enough to drink out of something that could give her a disease. “It’s all yours.”

“Suit yourself!” Sokka exclaimed, liquid dripping down his chin onto Momo’s head. “It’s very thirst-quenching, though!”

Not even a moment later, Y/N’s face dropped to see Sokka’s eyes wide and dilated. He seemed frozen in place, holding his cactus while he stared into space.

“Drink cactus juice.” He said, twirling his fingers around the drink. “It’ll quench you. Nothing’s quenchier!”

Y/N stood up, still picking sand out of her teeth. She cautiously made her way over to her boyfriend and placed both hands on his shoulders.

“Sokka.” She could feel him shaking with anticipation, but anticipation for what? “Are you alright? You don’t look so—”

“IT’S THE QUENCHIEST!”

Y/N screamed in surprise at Sokka’s outburst. His nose touching hers as he surged forwards offering her another drink. She stood completely still, making uncomfortable eye contact with the water tribe boy.

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough.” Katara’s eyes narrowed as she emptied his drink.

Sokka completely ignored her, using Y/N’s finger yet again, this time pointing at Toph.

“Who lit Toph on fire?”

“How did we get out here in the middle of the ocean?”

“Why am I dating a sand monster?”

Sokka’s questions were relentless. The cactus juice made his usual nonsense sound even more delirious. He was bouncing off the walls with energy. Constantly relaying between the three girls.

After the first five minutes, Toph was over Sokka’s antics. She continued walking, pretending the boy didn’t exist while Katara made her best attempts to control his outbursts.

The only girl enjoying the insanity of the situation was Y/N, but then again she was his girlfriend. She enjoyed anything and everything Sokka did.

“Y/N!” Sokka exclaimed excitedly, pulling her along with him as he ran in circles. “I’m making a tornado! Who’s the airbender now, Aang?”

Y/N burst out laughing while she was yanked in each direction. Her hair whipped in her face, dust flying everywhere. She and Sokka looked like two flying lemurs during a hurricane. It was truly a sight to see.

Her feet stumbled over each other as Sokka sprinted in front of the others. He continued screaming absolute nonsense to the clouds, not noticing Y/N struggling to keep up.

“Sokka!” She yelped, tripping over her own footsteps. She was beginning to think she had had enough of her boyfriend’s chaos. “I think we should slow down now!”

The boy whipped his head around to look at her. His gaze intense, not with lust or romance, but with a frenzied craze.

His abrupt movement shocked Y/N, who was still in motion.

As she went flying forwards, Katara screamed, watching her friend fall down the massive sand hill. Sokka rolled down after her, somersaulting in unison with her tumbles. Toph stood still not knowing what was happening.

“Sokka!” Y/N shouted between faceplants, “I am so breaking up with you after this!”

The free falling girl came to a halt at the bottom of the hill. Once again sand filled her mouth, but this time that wasn’t it's only hiding place. It was lodged in her ears, her armpits, and her clothing.

Y/N cradled her neck in pain as she heard muffled footsteps nearing her. She looked up to find Sokka. Her vision flared. Anger being the only emotion on her mind.

“You idiot!” Y/N slapped Sokka’s knees from her seat, feeling satisfied as she watched him crumble to the ground. “I could’ve gotten hurt! I could’ve broken my neck! You could’ve broken your neck! If I fall down on something tall—you don’t jump after me!”

While Y/N scolded Sokka with worry laced in her voice, he moved to hold her tightly. His muscular arms wrapped around her waist and he nestled his face in her neck.

Y/N’s rant ceased. She maneuvered herself so that they were in a more comfortable position. She sighed contently as Sokka ran his hands up and down her back.

“I’m sorry for getting upset.” She mumbled in his ear. “It wasn’t really your fault.”

Sokka pulled back slightly, a soft smile gracing his face. He pushed the loose strands of hair away from his girl’s forehead, holding her cheeks in his palms.

Y/N blushed as he surged forward, much like the last time but also much different. Now he was gentle, the rowdy mood long gone, as he pressed a soft kiss to her chapped lips.

Sokka didn’t need to use his words to apologize, the kiss speaking for him.

As he slowly let go, Y/N grinned at the boy. She was glad that his insanity had finally passed.

“Let’s get back to Katara and Toph,” he said whilst helping her stand, his hands finding their rightful place in her’s.

“They need to see that my girlfriend looks even grosser than before.”

With that comment, Sokka received a hard smack on the head.

#sokka x reader #sokka imagine #sokka imagines #sokka oneshot #sokka fluff #fluff #aang #katara #toph #appa #momo #cactus juice #atla #avatar the last airbender #the last airbender #atla imagines #atla oneshot #atla imagine #atla x reader

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vonnyphant · 3 years

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I am home from the hospital :)

The day of the surgery was kind of awful, but the procedure went well and I was discharged within the estimated 2 days. I am in pain, a little, but it‘s manageable.

On the day, the radiologist located the tumor chip in my breast by ultrasound and drove a long, flexible pin into the tissue to „pinpoint“ (literally) to the area for the surgeon. It looked like a grotesk accupuncture needle and it hurt a lot. I was grateful they did not tell me about this beforehand because I would have freaked out. As it was, it all happened so fast I had no time to worry.

Unfortunately, that was when my surgery got moved back - twice. I had arrived at the hospital in the early morning, 12 hours off solid food and water, and was lying on a bed in a hospital gown and a needle poking from my boob… and then I had to wait. I was told not to bring any valuables so I didn’t have my phone, and the pin situation made it too awkward to properly hold a book. My surgery slot for 11 am turned to 13:00 (meanwhile my roomie was served lunch but I wasn‘t allowed to eat or drink)… then they said 14:30 was my new slot… but it got moved again and round 16:30 I was wheeled to the operating theatre. They put me on the surgery bed and put a hairnet on me (hahahah whyyyyy?) and then- a very stressed, very angry surgeon sent us out again because wtf they weren‘t ready yet, get fhis patient outta here! A miscommunication, and I was wheeled back to a waiting area again. I lost track of time, because by then I was nearly 24 hours without food and was feeling extremely nauseous and my head hurt from dehydration, but I think they eventually wheeled me back in a little after 17:00 and the surgery was performed.

I have to say while this was going on, as awful as it was for me to just lay there without anything to do but stare at the ceiling for like 7 hours with my own thoughts, the staff was very considerate and did their best to make me comfortable. The food/drink rule was for my own safety, and they could not help having to prioritise an emergency surgery before mine. They gave me regular updates, apologised, sympathised. I remember the anesthetics guy in particular being very reassuring when he put me under (I was half crying by then because of my headaches) and he was just sort of petting my cheek saying „I am here with you, I‘m not going anywhere.“ It was very sweet- I think he assumed I was scared, but I was really just extremely hungry and thirsty.

It was all okay as soon as I woke up (apparently I was given fluids and glucose intravenously during my wake-up time) and then I had a visit from home bringing me my phone and headset so I could keep myself entertained. I spent Friday on my bed with a tube draining fluid from the wound down my side - awkward but not very painful- and they removed the tube Saturday around noon and I was cleared to go home.

I will have to take it easy and wear a huge supportive surgery bra day and night for 2 weeks (it looks like a bulletproof vest 😅) but it‘s not as bad as it sounds- it‘s wellfitted and reasonably comfortable. It‘s just very, very warm.

I will get the lab results in 2 weeks. Until then, I will need to distract myself. Already my brain is wanting to do the „BUT WHAT IF“ game, so I am doing all I can to allow no ‚idle brain time‘ to overthink. This means having netflix running constantly to keep my brain in passive zombie mode. Gimme your recs!

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lady-spieroles · 4 years

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where i was to be

Twin Au

follow up to this

dedicated to @transvav and @the-nerf-house

When Jordan woke up, he was astonished to find that he wasn’t drenched in sweat. He didn’t feel hot or feverish or weak or nauseous or achy. He felt like himself again. He wasn’t quite sure where he was but at least whatever sickness he’d been dealing with the last two weeks had finally subsided. He was laying in a bed in a brightly lit room with a high vaulted ceiling. It could have been overwhelming on his eyes, made of quartz and polished carved endstone, but whoever had decorated had used tasteful accents of purpur and obsidian and oak wood to mellow it out. He managed to sit himself up in the bed and looked around. He must have been in some sort of infirmary, curtains cordoneding his section off from others. Next to the bed was a side table that had a pitcher of water, a glass and his glasses. He was pouring himself a glass of water when one of the curtains parted and Commander Redd entered.

“Good to see that you’re awake Captain.” He greeted with a nod.

“Don’t suppose you could tell me where I am or what happened?” Jordan asked.

When they’d first arrived in Theadel, Jordan had been secretly excited to finally be in a world where Ianite was the dominant God. He’d spent so long in the minority, worshipping a God that either wasn’t taken seriously or was forgotten all together. He’d also been immensely fascinated to meet another version of himself. They’d heard all about their Ruxomar equivalents but aside from Mot and Farmer Steve he supposed, had not met any of them. The Commander was intimidating, every inch the Champion of Ianite, from the way he held himself to the way he dressed. In a way it made Jordan feel inadequate. But they’d seen the way the townsfolk reacted to the Commander’s presence as he showed them around the town. How they’d cowered and averted their eyes in a way that was just a bit darker than respect. Their suspicions only grew as the topic of Mianite and Dianite came up. The Commander’s eyes had sharpened behind his glasses, his neutral expression suddenly looking just a bit forced.

“Pray to them if you want, not that it will do you much good now that they’ve disappeared. Just don’t do it around me or out in the open.”

Tom and Tucker had been immediately untrusting and had said as much the moment the group was left alone. Jordan had wanted to give his alternate the benefit of the doubt but even he had to agree that it was suspicious. Tom had been the one to find out about the Rebellion and how to go about joining. Jordan didn’t want to believe that the Ianite of this universe was evil, she was supposed to be the balanced one, the one who didn’t change sides. But still he went with the others into the Nether with the hopes that they would find a way to help Ianite.

The moment he’d stepped into the portal something had felt off. Dimensional travel always felt strange but this time, it had almost hurt, like he was pushing past something he should not have been. He always felt the heat of the Nether, all of them but Tom did, but for some reason here it was just so much hotter. His condition only worsened with each passing day and the days that he spent locked up by the rebels who thought he was the Commander certainly didn’t help his health or their thoughts that the Commander was someone to be trusted. Jordan had begun to wonder if this feeling that his God was the villain was why Tucker had mostly stayed quiet about Mianite in Ruxomar and why Tom had never chosen to live too close to the rest of them in their first world. It was a feeling of being an outsider, like no one trusted you because of what your God was doing. Eventually the others convinced the rebels to let him out of their prison but it still didn’t change that his health continued to worsen. He coughed blood more often than not, was always lightheaded from dehydration, his vision blurred constantly and he just ached endlessly. But it was the feeling of being unwelcome that drove him to keep his sickness a secret.

He had been doing well enough at hiding it until they’d been attacked by dozens of enderman who in this world were apparently Ianite’s soldiers. They ran but he couldn’t keep up, body too weak to obey. He tripped and the world faded, his last sight was Tucker and Tom screaming his name.

“We’re in the infirmary in Ianite’s palace in the End. We brought you here to heal you. I thought I warned you not to enter the Nether?” He spoke in a way that could have been teasing if not for the undercurrent of apathy in his voice.

“What does the Nether have to do with me getting sick?”

“Dianite cast a spell upon the entire Nether years ago. It prevents followers from Ianite from gaining safe passage through his realm. I can’t even enter. You must have been able to push the limits since you are not of this world.”

“So the others…?”

“Should be fine.” Jordan allowed himself a sigh of relief. He didn’t think any of his friends had been experiencing the same symptoms he had but the confirmation was reassuring.

“But why would Dianite do that?” He asked.

Surprisingly enough, it was Ianite who answered. “I’m not sure what possessed my brother to banish so many from his realm, but he did nonetheless.” Jonah bowed immediately when she came through the curtains, something Jordan felt a bit strange about doing himself. While he’d always been respectful to Ianite, she’d never once asked him to bow or expected him to.

Despite knowing what Otm and the others in the Nether had said about her, Jordan couldn’t help the feeling of relief at seeing Ianite. She didn’t seem to be any different than the other Ianites he’d known. She still wore a purple gown, flowing and intricate. Her hair was still deep violet and was done up in some complicated looking braided style accented with gold pins. Even her delicate tiara was still in place. The only thing that was slightly strange were the strategically placed pieces of golden armor, a chestpiece, shoulder pauldrons, and arm guards replaced all her normal jewelry. But yet, even with these changes, her soft smile was enough to push away any concerns at the moment. This was Ianite after all. He trusted her.

“How are you feeling Captain?” She asked, coming to the side of the bed and gently touching his forehead.

“Much better Milady, and please, call me Jordan.” He could feel the touch of her magic, the familiar shimmering tingle reassuring and comforting.

“That’s good to hear. You had me quite worried. Your reaction to Dianite’s spell was near fatal.” Her hand moved from his forehead to gently cup his cheek. “I was afraid I might lose you.” He blinked, unsure how to reply. “I’ve been waiting for the chance to speak with you myself. Ever since I felt your arrival in this world I wanted to reach out to you. You’ve served my other selves so loyally over your travels, it’s time that one of us showed you the appreciation you deserve.”

How did she know? He’d never told anyone that he felt unappreciated. Sure Ianite had given him occasional gifts and praises over the years but so much of his effort had been unacknowledged. The Ianite of Ruxomar had been so focused on trying to make him a replacement for her husband while the Ianite in the first world had simply been absent and untouchable, only showing herself on rare instances. Now, he found himself almost leaning into her touch, surprised at just how starved for her gratitude he was.

“This is where you belong, Jordan. At my side. In this life and all others.” She pulled back, smiling at him. “It may be unorthodox, but no one ever said I couldn’t have two Champions at my side. Though I suppose in a way you are both the same man hmm? What do you say? Will you stay?”

He looked up at her, glancing quickly at the Commander before flicking his eyes back to hers. He should say no. He should ask to leave and see what he could accomplish on his own in the Overworld but if something really was wrong with Ianite, wouldn’t he be in a better place to help her right here? The more selfish part of him wanted to stay for the reasons she’d offered, to be appreciated and respected past a follower or replacement. The Commander had said nothing and gave no hint to what he may be thinking but something in Jordan almost thought that the other man wanted him to stay. There was something more that Jordan didn’t know about.

“I wouldn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” He eventually settled on, letting his eyes fall back to the Commander. Ianite followed his gaze and hummed in understanding.

“Jonah, am I in anyway offending you by asking Jordan to stay and serve at my side as you do?” She asked, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“No My Lady.” He replied instantly. “I am interested in knowing him as well.”

She smiled, sharp and dazzling then looked back to Jordan expectantly.

“Then I guess it looks like I’m staying.”

#mianite #mianitian isles #theadel #for transvav #twin au #dark!Ianite #Jonah Redd #Captain Sparklez #jordan maron #my writing #Mianite fanfiction #mianite au #ianite #words words words

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noblehigh · 4 years

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i just gotta vent, y’all.

a lot of you probably know that i’ve smoked marijuana for a long time, and that i’m a huge advocate for it ( i still am, even though the rest of this might lead you to think otherwise / think negatively about it ). you always hear the positive side of things, how marijuana has no sour benefits as far as your health comes -- you ‘just feel hungry!’ that’s the thing that a lot of places fail to fill you in on. that’s the thing that a lot of doctors don’t fill you in on. that, yes, while it has massive benefits and is over-all harmless, there are those that it can impact negatively.

after my mom passed ( and in the time span after that that i’ve been gone from tumblr ), i started to get sick. every few weeks / months i’d randomly throw up. when i wasn’t throwing up, i was nauseous. all. day. every. day. this wasn’t enjoyable for obvious reasons, but the fact that i’ve always had a phobia for getting sick definitely didn’t help. ( it’s important to note that after my mom passed, i started smoking a lot heavier ; it wasn’t just bud, it was dabs, and it wasn’t just at night, it was throughout the entire day ). like any other person who smokes, i just decided to smoke more, figuring it would help. i went to the doctor, i had some hospital visits ( non-related to me getting sick, but i was still going through all of this when i went, so the negative tests did a lot to crush my morale ). when i spoke to the doctor specifically about my sickness, she chucked it up to grief and anxiety. it seemed plausible. my mom was ( and still is ) my soulmate, my other half. losing her had a huge impact on me in ways i didn’t understand, and ways i still don’t think i understand.

i’ve been going through this for over a year and a half. every day feeling sick. ( side note: i’ve lost a lot of weight, which is another side effect of this syndrome. when you’re constantly nauseous and even the smell of food sometimes is repulsive, the weight just sheds off of you. ) it wasn’t until about a month or so ago that i stumbled upon an article: cannabinoid hyperemesis syndrome. i read what this woman’s symptoms were, and i started bawling. it was everything i had, right to a T. feeling sick in the morning, waking up and getting sick, getting sick every so often -- always feeling nauseous. unfortunately, it’s not a disease that’s well known in general or by doctors, so it’s often misdiagnosed or not diagnosed at all. most people with CHS get misdiagnosed with CVS ( cyclic vomiting syndrome ), which is an easy mistake.

it became apparent to me through reading and support groups online that this is what i have, and that if i keep going how i am, for lack of better phrase, i’m going to wind up killing myself. there have already been three or so reported deaths as cause of CHS, and they mostly stem from people who can’t stop throwing up, become too dehydrated, and their kidneys fail. for me, as an avid endorser of medical / recreational marijuana ( i even have my medical card ), it’s such a mix of emotions. weed is what helps me control other diseases i have, my anxiety, my insomnia ; it was something my mom and i did all the time, and we always laughed and had a blast -- and now i’ve lost it. because if i keep doing it, i’m just going to keep getting more and more sick. it’s odd to some people i know, but i just feel like i’ve lost yet another thing. something that gave me relief, a comfort. i’m really struggling to not smoke, especially since i have a partner who does. i haven’t smoked much since i learned of it, but i’m still struggling to be completely clean for longer than a week, at most.

i guess i wanted to post this to vent, to get my head more clear, and to reach out if there’s anyone else who suffers from this. i know finding other people who go through it has helped me feel sane, and helped me realize that i’m not alone. this isn’t just something anxiety is inducing, it’s a real illness. but anyway... that’s my bullshit i’ve been going through since i’ve been gone lmao

#ooc.#illness tw #drugs tw #CHS #it's literal hell #and i'm so tired

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sickficwarshiper · 5 years

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Sick Brucey

Here’s my first ever sickfic, I believe in this one I swaped Bruce and Peter’s personality but hey, atleast it’s filled with all the whump we loveee.

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Summery:- Bruce is having a bad day and doesn’t know he’s sick despit being a doctor until he reachs his down fall, cue Tony and Peter saving the day.

I suck at summeries I’m terribly sorry you have to go through this, I hope you enjoy the story tho.

@fandomsficsandfeels please judge my writing master of whumpiness *bows head*

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Bruce was confused.

He had woken up to a spinning room,his body was aching and his brain wasn’t keeping up with what his eyes were seeing, simply thinking he was being an idiot again with his non sleeping habits, he was starting to worry Tony was affecting him with the amount of times he stayed up late convincing the billionaire into having some shut eye if he wanted to stay functioning and the billionaire managing to tempt him into starting a new formula to help peter’s incredibly high metabolism. Yet even though he stayed up late the day before, he knew he had at least 8 hours of sleep and according to the wall clock in his bedroom -if he was seeing correctly- it was afternoon already. Bruce NEVER slept in.

He checked his stark phone -the one Tony gave him on his birthday with a ‘number one Science nerd’ phone case- and found a reminder that had him jumping out of bed and sprinting to the bathroom to start a shower.

Science lab day with tony at 1:00pm

Considering he woke up at 12:45 he only had about 5 minutes to shower and 10 minutes driving if he wants to make it there on time.

He ignored the dizzy spell that hit him and blamed it on grogginess from just waking up, and started the actual shower which was cold because he had no time for hot relaxing showers that helps with tense muscles an-

Okay, maybe it was a bad idea to stay up late experimenting the right formulas for the medicine.

He got out of the shower having not really done much and was sure he still had shampoo in his hair that would soon dry and be a pain in the ass to get off later, put on whatever the hell was laid on his desk’s chair, not really caring if it was the same clothes he wore the day prior and started to stumble down the stairs with the aim of not tripping over his own feet which would lead to the consequences of not being able to make it at all even after all the trouble he went through. He knew it was already bad enough he missed breakfast, but he couldn’t bare seeing anything edible at the moment, he blamed it on the anxiousness of not making it there on time.

He knew tony wouldn’t mind if he was a bit late, but he likes to always be on time. He doesn’t like letting anyone down. (A/N I don’t know why he sounds so much like peter rn lol)

Looking at the time, he had 12 minutes to make it there on time, which meant he showered and dressed in only 3 minutes. He thanked Thor he lived near the compound and would eventually make it in 11 minutes according to the navigation.

He was sweating, obviously after all the stumbling and sprinting about he just did, but it wasn’t the kind of sweating it was supposed to be. He was surprisingly cold and the sweat was irritating him, maybe he should’ve gotten a thicker shirt on.

Has it always been this suffocating in his car? Why was he constantly switching between irritatingly hot and unreasonably cold every few seconds ? He should probably ask Tony to check his AC for him. Despite his shivering and constant tugging on his shirt’s collar, he kept his gaze on the road while ignoring his blurry vision.

Thanks to his annoying wavering vision, he managed to take two wrong turns and three almost accidents, and he made it to the compound in 15 minutes.

Cursing his screwed over luck, he dragged himself out of the car while contemplating whether it was worth all this effort. He struggled for purchase on his car door when he stood up too quickly, taking a sharp inhale when his vision blurred and dark spots danced around the edges of his sight, thinking maybe skipping breakfast wasn’t a good idea either.

His body was trembling and he felt fatigue tug on him like a wet blanket, forcing his body back on the driver seat, he took steady calculated breaths to will the dizziness away, deciding through his stomach’s complaint that he’ll grab a bite if when he makes it to Tony’s lab.

Just when he was about to try standing again his phone rang.

“This is Bruce.” He rubbed his eyes with the knuckles of his left hand to get rid of the blurriness. Blaming the hoarseness of his voice and his scratchy throat on his thirst.

“Oh so you’re alive! good, because I’ll have to disturb your beauty sleep -giving the way you sound right now- by asking whether you’re still up for lab day or not.” He could hear distant foot steps on Tony’s line which clearly didn’t belong to him.

“Uh, yeah I am. Not sleeping though, I’m in the garage and was about to make my way to the front doors.” He stifled a cough that was threatening to rip out of his throat for no apparent reason, he should definitely have a drink after all.

“Great because I’ve- HEY leave that alone!” He heard a crash and a ‘sorry’ he frowned, pepper was out of town for a conference meeting and Rhodey had a meeting with the president.

“Tony, who’s with you?”

A few struggling and a heavy sigh later, Tony reached the line again, “Oh it’s just Peter, which is why I called by the way. Are you okay with having a third nerd on our lab day?”

He groaned, it’s not that he hated Peter’s company quite the contrary he loved it, it’s just that the kid’s energy was draining, and he was already lacking any energy to get him out of the damned car to begin with. This is what happens when he stays up too late and misses breakfast, after a quick snack he’ll be okay. Hopefully.

“Brucey?”

Oh yes, verbal answers, ugh they are the worst. “Yeah absolutely, Peter’s always welcomed.”

“Alright, get your ass up here before we die of boredom.” And with that the line went dead.

Sighing, he got up -slowly this time- and though still dizzy, he managed to lock the car and make it up the steps to the front entrance. He even made it to the elevator with not much trouble.

“Good afternoon Dr.Banner.” Came the robotic voice of the AI.

“Good afternoon FRIDAY.”

Leaning heavily on the elevator’s wall, hunching over in a fetal position, it seemed this was the only position his body was approving of. the AI was apparently informed of his arrival and started taking him to his destination. He always hated the way Tony designed his elevators, with all this unreasonable colors, it was starting to hurt his eyes, his eyes were watering unwillingly... well... because of the elevator’s crapy design of course -Totally not a billionaire’s at all- *though on any other day he always liked the colors and found them fascinating*.

Still dizzy , he blinked his eyes rapidly trying but failing to get rid of the constant blurriness and took deep breathes when nausea kicked in with the list of the other inconvenient symptoms -caused obviously from lack of sleep and proper rest-

“Sir, your heart rate is elevated and I am detecting a low degree fever, should I send you to the med bay instead?” Called the sound of the AI.

He ignored the sound for a minute to try and keep his breathing under control and push the black dots away, he always thought the AI was a genius just like it’s creator, knowing medical conditions was fascinating but it wasn’t making any sense right now, what fever? He was absolutely fine. He straightened up ignoring the way his body wanted to hunch back over in discomfort, and took one final deep breath.

“No thanks, I’ll have something on my way up, must be because of dehydration and lack of nutritions.” Obviously. He didn’t have a sip of water today. I mean come on, he’s a doctor. If anyone would know, it was him. He knows how to fix all this.

When he finally made it, he saw a sight that got him almost reaching out for the first floor’s button again.

Peter was hanging upside down on the lab’s ceiling, with Tony webbed to the other side of the room. Objects scattered on the floor messily and some of his test tubes and round bottom flasks broken with it’s ‘important’ contents spilled on the floor. Bruce was shocked to say the least. Infact, shocked was an understatement. He was not functioning properly because of -lack of nutritions-

And he was shifting from cold to hot every second, he was definitely not willing to deal with this shit and neither was the other guy.

He took deep calming breathes, forcing the other guy to back off and turned to Tony.

“Couldn’t you have at least NOT touched my part of the lab? Tony this formula was the only ones we experimented on for Peter’s medicine! God what is wrong with both of you, I was late for only five minutes! Five! Whenever you two meet up it only causes destruction. Jesus you wrecked my whole space!” He didn’t mean to snap, he was just irritated. He didn’t have the best morning and he is definitely not feeling so great because of lack of nutritions, he doesn’t know if that’s even the reason anymore he just wants to sleep.

They both stared at him worriedly, what’s wrong with them! honestly, he couldn’t deal with their shit anymore than that.

“You know what? I’ll just go fucking grab whatever it is you have in your kitchen, I missed breakfast and I’ve gone through shit today just to get here on time, and for what? A grown up webbed up to the wall and a teenager hanging off the ceiling, you’re both cleaning this up I’m not dealing with your shit until I calm the fuck down. When you’re done call for me.” And with that he left.

~Time skip brought to you by Spider baby.~ ^_^

They called him as promised after all his lab equipments were back in place, minus the ones they broke and everyone was working in silence.

Bruce was about to snap again. For the past 30 minutes he had been trying to make a chemical formula with a throbbing headache that was slowly turning into a migraine, failing miserably because of his shaky hands and watering blurry eyes. He kept taking calculated breathes, deep and steady. But he was still trembling.The food he had earlier was taking a troll on him, intensifying his nausea and threatening to make a second appearance, apparently Tony’s AC was shitty as well because he was shifting between cold and hot again.

And just when his anger subsided, his shaky hands dropped the test tube and he watched in slow motions as it chattered to pieces on the desk.

30 minutes worth of struggling, all chattered in a matter of seconds.

Bruce was on the verge of tears. Literally.

His vision wavered and he sank to the floor on his knees, holding his head while breathing sharply through his teeth, ignoring the tear track he now had on his face, he started coughing ugly deep throaty coughs, he almost coughed his lungs out and he was pretty sure he would pass out soon.

“Hey hey hey, easy.” He heard more than saw Tony and Peter making their way over to him.

Bruce kept his face in his hands and just cried.

“I b-broke it.” He sobbed, coughing weakly as he took in a deep breath, feeling strong hands helping him up and onto a chair, which he was most grateful for because of the spinning that was happening around him.

“It’s alright big guy, you broke a gazillion of those before what’s the big deal?” Tony rubbed his back slowly while he was hunched over on the chair, still crying and coughing.

“I know b-but I feel awful and I’m cold yet I’m hot a-and my head hurts and- thirty minutes! T-thirty fucking minutes tr-trying to do something right b-but my stupid hands keep shaking, I feel so exhausted and I just w-want to sleep.” Honestly he had no idea why he was crying, this was a really unnecessary thing to be crying over and he was just crying from fatigue at this point.

Then he felt a cool small hand touch his forehead, unconsciously he leaned into the comforting touch. Watching with glazed over eyes as peter’s face pinched in worry, glancing at what he assumed was tony over his shoulder with a nod.

“Friday, what’s his temperature?”

“Dr.Banner’s temperature was at 99.7 degrees when he came here and has been steadily climbing from stress till 102.4 degrees. Bed rest is recommended and a-lot of water to prevent dehydration. Light food and medicine should also be added to the list.”

“W-what? I’m sic-“ he was interrupted by a dry heave, surprisingly there was a trash can under his chin which Peter had bought over, apparently expecting this would happen eventually.

“I think this answered your question.” Tony sighed.

“I’ll go grab you some medicine Dr.Banner. You should get some rest here today, I don’t think you’ll be able to make it home in this condition.” He offered him a soft smile before going to get him the medicine as promised.

Relishing the comfort from the back rubbing Tony was giving him, he didn’t even look surprised that Tony was giving him physical comfort, or more like, he didn’t care. He just wanted to sleep.

Eye lids drooping, weak coughs and more puking later, Peter comes back with medicine and a glass of water. Both Tony and Peter helped him up to the comfortable couch in the lab and Tony left to get some blankets.

“I knew before you came into the lab you were sick.”

Bruce stared at him with disbelief da fuq?

“I heard your heart rate and breathing. I even told Tony while we were cleaning up the lab, he said I should leave it for a bit until you calmed down.” Peter fiddled with a string on the hem of his shirt absentmindedly, a nerves habit Bruce caught up with from all the time the three of them hung out in the lab.

Bruce looked away guiltily.

“I’m sorry about that, I didn’t even know I was sick. I was irritated with how my body was acting and just wanted to go home, Tony knows I hate it when he goes through my lab stuff, let alone break it.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

“I was so close to reaching the right formula for a medicine that works with your metabolism, one that works even better than Steve’s, that’s why I got angry.” He coughed weakly into his fist and shifted his position for a more comfortable one that fits his stomach’s liking.

Peter hung his head before speaking again.

“M-maybe you should probably focus on you right now, I-I mean I’m not ordering you I’m just worried about you, Mr.Stark told me you’ve been staying up with him lately and it’s bad for your health, n-not that I’m judging you or anyth-“

“It’s okay Peter Jesus calm down, I appreciate the concern.” Bruce chuckled.

Tony came back with 3 blankets, two for Bruce and one for Peter and himself.

“Today we’re all taking a break, we’re going to take big care of you right Pete?”

Peter’s eyes twinkled innocently as he nodded, beaming brightly at Bruce. And he could’ve sworn he started feeling a tiny bit better because of it.

Peter and Tony wrapped him up in a burrito after giving him medicine and putting around some lit scented candles, “I remember you telling me once how it gets hard to control the other guy while sick.” Tony had said while he lit up the candles and they all sat huddled up in blankets while watching some Brooklyn nine-nine upon Peter’s request.

Bruce sat content not really concentrating on the show anymore, but more like thanking whatever god that is up there besides Thor and Loki for having the most caring family ever. He already felt a lot better than when he woke up this afternoon.

And with those thoughts in mind, Bruce drifted off into a dreamless sleep surrounded by warmth and a relaxing atmosphere, filled with small chuckles and quite babbles, thinking maybe today wasn’t as bad a day as he thought it was.

#sick bruce #sickday.#irondad #spiderson #tags are fun #gimmy that whump #exhausted Brucey #sorry you have to go through this #hope you like it tho #thanks for reading #first published fic #english is not my first language #it’s actually arabic lol #maybe I’ll add more tags later #or not #i’m really insecure tho #I ended up adding tags again lol #hey to you from egypt

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true-neutral-earth-elf · 5 years

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Tdp Crack Theory/fan lore: Avizandum and the Seven Cakes of Xadia

Avizandum is actually a very popular protagonist in Elven folktales, like Jack and Hansel who both appear in various stories irl. Their appearance is unknown and will often be attributed different features, and genders, depending on the story origin.

At some point after entering Xadia and getting past Sol Regem, Rayla and Callum find themselves getting roped into a production of the most popular of these stories, “Avizandum and the Seven Cakes of Xadia.” Callum is singled out to play the daring hero by the eccentric director, while Rayla works with the special effects. Zym watches the whole thing from beneath one of the bleachers, occasionally sneaking some elven equivalent of popcorn from the distracted children.

The story opens with Avizandum sitting upon a rock, pondering the meaning of existence. A cloaked stranger approaches them, asking why it is that they sit there staring into space. The hero shares with the stranger their confusion. Why are they here, what is the purpose for which they were born (“Elves are, apparently, quite fond of stories depicting existential crises,” Callum notes). The stranger listens carefully, then calmly answers, “Dear child, that is quite the conundrum! If you are, indeed, bent on finding the answer to your query, then this I shall offer you.” The stranger tells them of the Seven Cakes of Xadia, magical goodies concocted by the wisest of the archmages many centuries ago (“What kind of preservatives were those things pumped with?!”); each one granted the consumer absolute knowledge of a single part of life. The stranger hands Avizandum a map made of riddles which would direct them to each of the cakes. Avizandum considers the offer (“guess the only trait everyone can agree on, is his need to take time to think,”), to which the stranger prompts him to decide, “My child, I have a long journey ahead of me and little time to waste; yay or nay?” They accept, and go on their way to find the first cake.

The first cake, a red jelly filled delight which almost seemed to pulse, contained the knowledge of body. Avizandum had to endure a hike through the mighty dessert and traverse the tallest mountain, and suffered from starvation, dehydration, and sleep deprivation until they came to the place in which the cake was kept. They now knew what it meant to hunger and want for nourishment, which they had taken for granted living a comfortable life.

From there our hero began the search for the second cake, which granted knowledge of the world. The elf ventured through a vast grassland, inhabited by ferocious creatures of darkness and was constantly berated by violent lightning, hail, and wind storms. It was in that place that they learned of true terror. They found the second cake, which was filled with dry nuts, berries, and was decorated with edible flora, hidden away in an underground cabin with a heavy door. Avizandum now knew what it truly meant to feel safe, secure, and what peace that brought to the mind.

To a small, old town was where their journey led them. The elves of this place were cold to the adventurer as they knew not of this being’s character. Avizandum felt out of place amongst the close knit townsfolk; an outcast in the crowd. Loneliness, that draining specter, haunted them. But then, a child, of all living things, befriended them; the little one showed Avizandum the ways of the village and convinced their kin to open up to, and accept their new friend. Eventually the subject of the third cake came up, to which the townsfolk were thrilled to answer all questions of. They brought forth the cake and shared it with the adventurer. A welcoming scent wafted forth from the soft, warm, buttery cake; eating it reminded the hero what it meant to love, be loved, and accepted. The cake granted knowledge of companionship, friendship.

The fourth riddle guided Avizandum to a grand manor, in which a contest of streangth and wit was being held. The master of the manor had promised the competitors that the winner of every contest could claim any prise from his treasury; the fourth cake being amongst them. The hero struggled greatly with each challenge, and met defeat with anguish and despair. But their competition faired no better; they were on equal footing. So, Avizandum began training harder and harder, gaining recognition amongst their peers. They took each victory in stride and shared their celebratory spirit with the others. Finally, they had succeeded in every challenge laid before them and claimed the cake as their prize! This cake provided knowledge of achievement, what it was to fight and be respected. (“Interesting prospect..”)

The elven hero was puzzled by the fifth riddle as it did not give way to a location, but appeared to urge them to reflect on themselves (“Finally, something they’re really good at.”). Avizandum chose a place beneath a mighty tree and recalled the events of their life. Their memories came forth like water through a damn, first the recent uneventful ones, then the sorrowful ones, the fearful ones, the ones that filled them with range, and, worst of all, the regretful ones. The hero began to weep from the the bombardment of emotions until there was nothing left to weep for. Within that time the daylight had faded to night, Avizandum gazed up towards the full light of the moon. “Who am I,” they wondered, “Am I as pitiful as these memories doth testify? Or is this only part of what makes me a reality?” They thought back on their memories, but, this time, examined each and every one separately; carefully, they considered why these memories impacted them so much, why that one person from before said claimed something about them, how a certain event caused the others to occur, and it had shaped them. Avizandum closed their eyes and whispered into the night, “All this life I have lived and all has become a part of me. Though, I know and regret much of it, I shan’t purge it from my mind! No. I shall do better. Be better. Many more mistakes will be made, but I will face and accept them as a new part of me. I shall reach for my full potential!” Their eyes fluttered open, and right in front of them was placed the fifth cake. Avizandum took joy in slowly eating the cake, appreciating the bittersweet mixture of flavors that made it truly unique, and gained the knowledge of self.

Avizandum set out upon the road once the sun had reached its peak. The sixth, and final riddle asked nothing of them other than to simply walk and watch the world around them. So they did. No flittering bird went unnoticed, no ant forgotten, nor breeze unappreciated. But it what truly caught The elve’s eye was the people they passed along the way, for now that they knew themself they could now recognize the “self” in others. The other elves, though very much strangers, were alive just as they. Suffered in ways Avizandum could never truly know but empathize with. Lived their own lives as they learned how to in their youth. And loved their home in their own way, as they would have it. At the end of the trail waited the cloaked stranger who had sent them on their journey. “My child, it is good to lay eyes on you once again!” The stranger clapped them on the back, then asked in a cheerful manor, “Have you learned anything from this trip of yours?” Avizandum gleefully shared with their friend the details of their journey. Just as before, the strangers listened intently and waited until the young elf was through to speak, “And, what have you learned this day?” “My dear friend,” the youth spoke in a calm tone, “today I have have found that we, let’s say you and I, are different, yet the same. We are, to each, our own. Both on our own paths with our own understandings, which may coincide at moments like this, but shall remain ours alone...and that is fine. We shall walk our own paths, side by side.” The stranger smiled, and from his cloak brought out the sixth cake. This one was rather simple, it surface was covered in smooth, light blue frosting and had no real taste but sharpened the elf’s mind. The hero now had knowledge of things beyond themself.

Once finsished with the cake, Avizandum turned towards the stranger, “But, what of the seventh cake? There is no riddle for it, nor can I imagine anything greater than what I have learned.” The stranger shook his head, and replied, “My child, the seventh cake is one you will find on your own eventually. I could tell you now...but I wish not do so. Your journey has taught you what it is to live, and thus what to maintain in life. If I shared with you the seventh cake, it’s knowledge would either frighten or excite you. Are you willing to face the possible consequences now?” The youth wanted to reply with an enthusiastic “yes” but could not bring themself to do so. “If it is truly something I will learn later on, then I shall wait until then.” “Very well, my young friend, very well indeed.”

The curtains close, Callum and the other actors take a bow along with the director then exit stage left. After most of the audience cleared out, Callum, Rayla, and Azymondias were relaxing in the bleachers, comparing notes on how they nearly botched their jobs.

“So, what was the seventh cake?” The words of the fabled stranger still lingered in Callum’s mind.

“Dunno,” Rayla shrugged, “I never thought it was worth wasting time over. Avizandum didn’t need it, why should I?”

“I guess that’s one way of thinking about it.”

“Might I be of some assistance?” The two snapped their heads towards the direction of the unknown voice. A tall, robe clad elf softly approached them. “I’m sorry for disturbing you both, but I couldn’t help but overhear your question.”

“That’s ok,” Callum gave a welcome smile, blissfully unaware of the the look of caution on Rayla’s face, “Do you know what it is?”

“Yes dear...but do you really want to know?”

The human thought for a moment, “Yes.”

The older elf smiled. “The seventh cake is the knowledge of the hereafter; death.”

Callum blinked, and shared a questioning look with Rayla.

“Knowledge of death entails the cruel reality of life; that it has no inherent meaning. There is not a higher purpose, nor a universal truth to be found. In death our “selves” perish, and eventually the memory of us follows suit. The stranger in the story feared that this truth would destroy Avizandum’s view of the world, that they would lose their will to live, as many do.” they leaned back a little, gazing thoughtfully at the fielding, “Some people find comfort in this truth. No pressure from a greater power means that we alone possess the power to define our lives, as we see fit. In this way, we are free.” With a sigh, the elf returned their gaze to the surprised teens. They chuckled, “Come now little ones! Does this news change anything?”

Rayla hummed, “I suppose not.”

The stranger nodded, then turned to head off, “Then think nothing of it! You’re young and full of life, embrace and appreciate that. Go safely dears!”

(A/N: This was so not meant to be this long. Well, hope y’all enjoyed anyways!)

#tdp theory #tdp fan lore #tdp fanfic #the dragon prince #tdp #tdp elves #tdp headcanon #ask true neutral earth elf #writing #tdp avizandum #tdp callum #tdp rayla

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tessatechaitea · 5 years

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Superman: Up in the Sky #4

Best DC cover ever or greateast DC cover ever? Those are the only two choices.

Die Tasche. Die Tasche? DieTasche! Die Tasche. Shtop.

The story begins with somebody talking about a race for charity between Superman and The Flash. They say it was televised and that people bought tickets to sit along the route and watch it. Seems like a huge scam to me. How long could it actually take Flash to run around the Earth ten times? Like fifteen seconds? I could probably do the math on it but I don't want to show off. But this story assumes that Flash and Superman didn't run so fast that people couldn't at least see them blur by. So this kid telling the story says that Lex Luthor offered to double the money to charity if Superman loses. And Superman heard it with his super-hearing which meant Superman was going to just have to win no matter what! He'd just have to believe he was faster than The Flash and then be faster than The Flash. Because that's how comic books work. What makes a hero is the secret reserve of strength and will and confidence that only appears when the hero is about to be defeated. People who are defeated aren't heroes because they don't have that reserve. They are losers. Big stupid losers. Did you die from your cancer? Not a hero, jerk. Did you fail to get that promotion at work because you didn't complete the project a hero would have completed at the last minute? Total loser. Did one of your kids drown in the pool because you gave up on the CPR like a big jerko loser dumb-dumb? Yeah. Not a hero. Maybe even a villain! But Superman, being a hero, now had to win the race for charity! And The Flash apparently isn't a hero because where were his secret reserves to beat Superman? What an idiotic failure. Although I haven't finished the story yet! Maybe Superman is still going to lose just like the cover implies! I bet the point of this story is that Superman loses sometimes but nobody ever gives up hope in him! And he always tries his hardest! And maybe even before the race, he made a bet in Vegas that Lex Luthor would bet a billion dollars against him which would pay off like a billion to one!

Lame. Superman wins.

Superman wins but the dumb kid telling the story doesn't explain how. The kid just goes on and on about contradictions but totally uses the word incorrectly. Like saying "Superman is faster than a speeding bullet" is a contradiction. Is it? How? If Superman is faster than a speeding bullet than he's faster than a speeding bullet and that's not a contradiction! Stupid idiot kid. The kid is so dumb I bet the kid got the story wrong and just made it up to make herself feel better. Because the kid telling the story is the girl that Superman is looking for and she has to believe that Superman can do the impossible (like win a race against The Flash) or else she's just going to rot on whatever planet she's lost on. So the story is about hope or something. Superman hopes and so Superman does. It's kind of like Oprah's Secret, I guess? It doesn't make any sense but since it's Superman, you always know he's going to win. Even that time he died, he won by killing Doomsday as well. So see? Blade was wrong. You should always bet on red! And blue! The second story is also about hope. Hey! Are all these stories about the hope Superman gives people?! I've been duped! I thought this was going to be a bunch of stories about how hard Superman can punch bad guys! Stupid DC Comics hiring some intellectual namby-pamby like Tom King! Writing stories that are all, "Superman shows how faith and hope can inspire us to be better than we are!" Whatever! I hope the next issue is about Superman punching a gigantic space monster! Superman: Up in the Sky #4 Rating: Oh yeah! The second story was about Superman interacting with Clark Kent because they were struck by magic space lightning and separated into two unique people. As if that's a thing! Somehow Superman's Kryptonian DNA makes him all logical and shit while his human upbringing makes him all emotional and valiant and sacrificial and awesome! Isn't that the way it always is? Humans are the greatest beings in the universe because they know how to cry while reading Shakespeare! Everybody else in the universe is a boring old rational Vulcan! If another alien species is allowed to be emotional, they only get one emotion. Like how Klingons are angry and Ferrengi are sneaky and Romulans have huge cocks and Guardians of the Universe are assholes. Only humans have mastered the spectrum of emotion and that makes them the best! Go Clark Kent! You teach that Superman a thing or two about hope! Now merge with him again for next issue and get to punching shit!

#Superman #Up in the Sky #DC Comics #DC #Tom King #Andy Kubert #Sandra Hope

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walviemort · 5 years

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a bump in the right direction (2/3)

Summary: Killian likes Robin. Robin likes Killian. They don’t think the other one is interested, though, even after spending a night together. But it seems that life has other plans for them when they both come out of the encounter pregnant. Maybe this was just the bump (well, baby bumps) they needed to get together. And starting a relationship while pregnant…well, that’s gonna be an adventure.

rated T | 4k | AO3

A/N: Continuing the story that sprawled from a prompt that @killianjonesownsmyheart1 sent to @sancocnutclub. I can’t wait for you to see the art she’s done for this—it’s so sweet!

Embarking on a relationship when both parties were mere months from giving birth was definitely a unique adventure, but despite its challenges, they couldn’t be happier.

Killian spent that first night at Robin’s, where they were finally able to be the balm to each other’s out-of-control libido, and fell asleep with the other’s bump under hand. The next morning brought some of the awkwardness of the morning that followed their first tryst, but either Killian felt bolder, or he could blame it on the hormones—he put an end to that by kissing Robin softly, once on the lips, and then on the curve of his stomach. Granny gave them a curious smile when they walked into the diner later that morning (after another round or two) but said nothing.

Things started a bit slow, as they always do—neither one sure which lines to cross when, given the weight of the situation (quite literally; Killian had just stopped looking at the scale, even though he knew he was supposed to get heavier and was glad that it meant his nausea was abating). And yet, they still managed to spend each evening together, unless Robin was working—in which case they met for lunch, or breakfast, or something. Now that they’d truly crossed a bridge when it came to togetherness, Killian found he couldn’t go too long without being near Robin, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Regina, smug older sister that she was, exclaimed “Called it!” when they finally broke the news to her of their relationship a couple weeks later. “I thought I saw you two disappear into that room that night.” Thankfully, she didn’t lord it over them long, and quickly shifted into overbearing aunt mode (“Someone has to!” she argued.)

It only took a few weeks of alternating whose place they crashed at—and for Killian to quickly realize how empty his bed felt without Robin in it, despite the increasing number of pillows he needed to support his growing bump—before they decided to just move into Killian’s; it was larger, and closer to Robin’s bar. And they knew they’d want to be together after the babies came; why not start now?

Of course, regardless the fact that Robin’s feelings toward Killian were growing in proportion to his waistline, moving in together was its own obstacle.

The physical ones were overcome with the help of friends and family—Regina, Will, and his girlfriend Belle—given that, at 28 weeks and entering their third trimesters, neither guy could lift a ton (though they helped where they could).

He did feel a fair bit of trepidation when the first box left his apartment, and then even more when he closed the door on the now-empty space for the last time. It wasn’t that he had many fond memories there or anything, except for maybe a few great parties. (Though the most memorable had been at Regina’s and he’d be damned if he ever let her move.)

It was just the finality of literally closing one door and opening another—another that led to a currently empty room in Killian’s, with nought more than some boxes, a couple dressers waiting to be assembled, and a few outfits hanging in the closet.

“You alright, love?” Killian’s voice brought Robin out of his thoughts as his boyfriend came up to his side, resting a hand on his lower back. His brow was furrowed with concern when Robin looked up.

“Aye, darling—I will be. It’s just...all becoming a little more real.”

Killian smirked, cutting a dimple into his thick ginger scruff (that, thanks to pregnancy, now got ridiculously long if he went without shaving so much as a day—and he loved it). “I know the feeling. But if you think it’s too soon, or you’re having second thoughts…” he started, trailing off. Robin could guess at the out Killian was giving him, but the fact that he was offering just cemented his decision.

“Not at all. Let’s get get a move on.”

He locked the door, grabbed Killian’s hand, and headed off onto their next adventure.

Which apparently was the mental side of moving in together: not just findinging space for Robin’s stuff in the mix, but just living with another person—and another person’s habits—when he was so used to being on his own for so long.

Killian’s Navy background showed itself in the neat arrangement of his closet and drawers, the kitchen cabinets, even under the bathroom sink. It was easy for Robin to find a home for everything but maintaining it would be harder, he knew. (Though perhaps, once he got to the nesting stage, it might get a bit easier—until the babies arrived and inevitably threw everything into chaos.)

The other aspect of that was seeing a side of the other they’d never seen before, whether it was just in the quiet moments during the day, or seeing the glimpses of each other’s past. Killian cast a very curious eye to the collection of medals Robin brought from his amateur archery days, and Robin quite liked the look of those leather pants Killian dug out of the closet while making room for Robin’s stuff, even if Killian swore they’d never fit him again.

“Then we’ll just have to find you new ones,” Robin decided, while promptly pouncing on Killian. He got to do that now whenever he wanted, and that just might have been one of the biggest perks. Try as he might, he had a very hard time keeping his hands of Killian and that beautiful bump. God, he was gorgeous.

Given that this was such an unconventional situation—for a couple to both be expectant, especially from the same encounter—they were foregoing most of the conventional pregnancy traditions. No book would truly be able to provide guidance and classes could only take them so far. But the one thing Robin insisted on was tracking their bellies.

He put up a piece of paper on the wall of the nursery, and each Sunday, they took turns tracing the outline of the other’s stomach. Just looking in the mirror every day, it was hard to notice the changes; having a visual representation of it was something special. He was curious to see if the outlines would cross paths—the paper was only so wide. But mostly, he loved the chance to trace the curve of Killian’s belly and feel their child moving inside.

Killian tried to tease him about it, but it was always half-hearted—and he couldn’t say much when he spent just as long tracing and loving on Robin’s bump.

“I just still can’t believe all this is real sometimes,” he murmured, palm resting over where Robin’s baby was kicking.

Robin was doing the same with Killian’s child. “I know, darling—me too.”

As fate would have it, they’d already been going to the same doctor, so Robin shifted his appointments to directly follow Killian’s. Regina had gone to the first one with Killian, but he’d been on his own for the next few; having someone with him—more specifically, the father and his partner—made the experience all the greater, and he could tell Robin felt the same. Stepping into the role of expectant father when he himself was also expecting was a unique role to be in, but he loved it—even if he was running the risk of dehydration again after their first shared appointment, from crying over not one but two sonograms.

But now, he now had someone else to look after him. Not that he was incapable of taking care of himself, obviously—he was rather used to it, both in the pregnancy and in life—but it was nice having someone to rub his back when he went toe-to-toe with the toilet at 3 am, and to make sure he was getting enough liquids. And he was more than happy to massage Robin’s swollen ankles after a long shift at work.

They discovered that they somehow had all the same cravings, so they were now on a first-name basis with Leroy at the market. Dill pickle chips (and all other varieties), pistachio ice cream, anchovies on pizza—all the weirdest combinations, but at least they didn’t have to worry about grossing the other out. They also desperately craved beer, but, alas, couldn’t partake. (Though they did develop an appetite for sarsaparilla.)

It was the kind of partnership he’d always wanted to have. It was nothing like he’d imagined, to be sure, and he often wished the tiny being inside him would stop interrupting them in one way or another (whether it was because of nausea, hunger, kicking, or just the fact that his baby bump physically interrupted their intimate times). But they just...clicked. It wasn’t a chore to be together—it was the most natural thing in the world.

Killian’s insecurities still tended to flare up, of course, but Robin always knew how to set him at ease. Somewhere around 34 weeks in his pregnancy, Killian flopped down on the bed, exasperated. He was just trying to get dressed for work, but his paternity trousers wouldn’t fit over his hips today and none of his shirts would button, straining against the ball that was now his stomach (don’t even get him started on the stretch marks). His ankles had caught up to Robin’s in the swollen department, but it didn’t much matter as he couldn’t see them anyways. And the baby was happily kicking and punching his bladder almost constantly, so even though he’d just used the facilities, he felt the urge to go again.

He felt huge, cumbersome, and ugly. There was no way Robin wanted him for him anymore; despite all he did, surely he was just sticking it out for the children. Killian turned his gaze to his still-sleeping partner, looking like the perfect image of pregnancy and not like the whale that Killian surely resembled. And they still had nearly two months to go. What would he look like then?

Killian was always prone to dramatics, but even more so now, especially as he threw himself backwards on the mattress and let the tears come.

He tried his best to keep it quiet and wallow in his misery alone, but it didn’t take long for the mattress to shift and for Robin to appear above him.

“Killian, what’s wrong? Is it the baby?” His brow was furrowed with worry as he stroked Killian’s cheeks, attempting to dry the tears.

“No, the baby’s fine—it’s me. I’m enormous and hideous and I don’t know how you can even stand to look at me.” He turned his head and threw an arm over his eyes; if Robin was going to take this chance to leave, he didn’t want to see it.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Just...look at me, Robin.”

“Yeah, I’m looking right now. Have you seen me lately? I think there’s a similarity.”

“No, there’s not. You have exactly two stretch marks and all your clothes fit.”

“I have seventeen stretch marks, for your information, and if my clothes fit, that’s because I went out and bought massive shirts as soon as I got the positive test. As you well know, my own clothes haven’t seen the light of day in months and probably never will again.”

Killian just scoffed. “There’s no need to placate me, love. Just leave me be.”

“Hey.” Robin’s voice sounded almost angry; he’d never heard him like that before, and had to hazard a look, peeking out from under his arm. “I know you’ve got your vanity all wounded at the moment, but if you think that my attraction to you was just based on appearances, then you’re sorely mistaken, Killian Jones. You’re caring, sweet, talented, funny, and all I’ve ever wanted in a partner. And if anything, this,” he continued to rant, placing his hand on the apex of Killian’s belly, “has just made me all the more attracted to you physically—or have you already forgotten the other night in the shower?”

Killian immediately blushed at the memory, the details flooding his mind without thought: the hot water only adding to the steam between them; Robin’s careful, wandering hands exploring every inch of his body, even the extra ones; how Killian was barely able to keep any sort of control once Robin took his length in his mouth, forcing Killian to brace one arm on the wall and the other around his belly; and eagerly returning the favor as the shower continued to rain down on them.

That night was more the norm than the exception, even with libido gradually being replaced by fatigue as they got closer to the end of their pregnancies. But seeing Robin round with his child was truly arousing, even if they were continually working out the best ways to be intimate with their growing bumps. Even now, when Robin was shirtless and wearing pajama pants, it was doing all sorts of things to Killian.

“Judging by what’s going on in your underwear, I can tell you’re remembering,” Robin went on, smirking now. “Come here,” he beckoned, holding out his hands to Killian, and he took them. With surprisingly little effort, Robin pulled him up to sitting, then held his gaze. “This is what we’re going to do: you’re going to call off work today, and we’re going to head out to go shopping and find some clothes that flatter your wonderful, delectable form—especially with that photoshoot your sister is insisting on coming up.” Killian chuckled through his tears; they’d turned down her offer of a baby shower but, typical Regina, she wouldn’t take no for an answer on a dual paternity shoot. “We might even slip a massage in there, because lord knows we could both use one. But first,” he added, leaning in, “I’m going to show you again just how much I adore you, and I won’t stop until I know you believe me. How does that sound?”

Killian sniffled and grinned in response, only just realizing that his tears had become happy ones. He squeezed Robin’s hand and answered, “That sounds perfect.”

Other than the rough days—which they both had—Robin had no true complaints as their pregnancies progressed. And how could he? He had a stable job, a solid relationship, and all signs pointed to two healthy babies.

Well, okay, he had one complaint—the ridiculous paternity photo shoot. Even if he was dressed comfortably and had Killian at his side, he still thought it was just a tad silly.

“You’ll be so glad to have the pictures later!” Regina insisted that morning as she drove them out to the park they’d be shoot at.

“You better be right,” Robin threw back, both of them ignoring the string of muttered curses from Killian.

A few hours later, he hated to say it, but she had been right. Oh, they had done all the cheesy poses first—back-to-back, bump-to-bump, the silly hearts on the belly ones—but then split off to do their own shoots, to which Killian had vehemently protested.

“You’d best believe that I’ll be returning this favor should you ever have children, Regina,” he’d complained.

“I would fully expect you to,” she casually tossed back and continued to direct (and possibly flirt with) the photographer, Mal.

Robin didn’t know if it was the light, or the setting, or the realization that they were merely weeks away from having their whole lives changed, but something different struck him that day as he watched his beautiful boyfriend posing with their unborn child. He’d been thinking it for a while, but had been scared to actually say the word when they were both already on constant emotional roller coasters—who only knew what that could have done to Killian.

But as he felt his heart rate pick up as he just watched the gorgeous scene before him, the life within seemed to pick up on the feeling and start kicking up a storm.

“I know, my darling,” he whispered to his bump, placing a hand over where his child was moving most. “I love him, too.”

Killian would never admit it, but he was kind of glad Regina had forced this photo shoot on them. It would certainly be a good keepsake of this strange and exciting time in their lives, and it was a gorgeous spring day—perfect to be outside.

Maybe it was the sun, or the warm breeze, or the scent of the blooming flowers giving everything an ethereal feel, but as he watched Robin pose for his own shoot while resting on a bench nearby, a sudden, simple thought overtook him: “I love him.”

He did. He truly did. There was no one else he wanted to go on this journey with—no one else he could ever imagine sharing a life with. He knew the road ahead was going to have bumps (though hopefully none like the ones they were currently sporting, at least not for a while), but he knew that they could overcome them—together.

As if reading his thoughts, his baby started to wriggle like crazy. “Is that an agreement, love?” he murmured to his belly, then smiled as the movement intensified. “I thought so.”

The closer the due date got, the more they traded off being nervous and excited. A healthy combination of both reigned at their 38-week appointment.

To date, they’d been having their own little contests of sorts—like who would gain the most weight (Killian, once the nausea finally passed), whose feet would change the most (Robin’s, evidenced by the fact that he was wearing Killian’s larger shoes), whose belly would drop first (they both happened on the same day), or who could last longest before crying during Disney movies (a draw again). They were waiting to see who would have the largest belly circumference, who would go into labor first, and who would have the biggest baby, but hopefully the doctor would give some indications as to who might win those.

As they suspected, Killian outnumbered Robin in girth by a few inches—yet estimates put Robin’s baby slightly ahead in weight, if only by a few ounces. “I’m sure mine will catch up,” Killian commented matter-of-factly. “There has to be some reason my belly is larger; he or she is just saving up for a last-minute sprint.”

“Oh, is that it? It has nothing to do with the mega-stuffed Oreos you discovered last week?” Robin quipped playfully.

“Oi! You love them, too!”

As far as who might win the race to finish line, though, the doctor couldn’t say. “You’re both dilated a couple centimeters, so you’ll probably go a bit before the due date, but it’s impossible to know who will be first.”

“If you were betting, who would you put money on?” Robin asked. Their doctor, Victor, was also a close friend and was well aware of the pool Regina had going.

“Both of you, if she’d let me.”

After dinner with Regina (who was displeased to find out the inconclusivity of Victor’s assessment but was happy to inform them that Killian had the edge in the pool) and marking the belly progress in the now-furnished nursery (the lines started crossing a few weeks ago), they were relaxing at home on the couch, sharing a sarsaparilla. They sat hip-to-hip and were leaning into each other (or just weighing down the middle of the couch so that they fell towards one another), enough so that their bumps were connected, too. The babies were squirming and seemed to be fighting each other, even though they were in separate wombs. But feeling his other child press against his belly was a singular experience Robin wouldn’t trade for the world, even if it meant the one inside him was constantly hitting his kidneys.

“I can’t tell if they’re going to love each other or hate each other,” Killian assessed, watching the almost alien-like movement within their bellies.

“Probably both,” Robin answered as his baby seemed to do a somersault. “They’re definitely going to be partners in crime, though.”

“Do you wish we’d found out the genders?” Killian tucked his head onto Robin’s shoulder as he asked, then rested his palm on the top of his stomach.

“No; I’m happy with it being a surprise. The rest of this was; may as well continue it.”

“That’s fair.” Killian grew quiet, but Robin could tell he was lost in thought.

“What is it, darling?”

“It’s nothing, just…” He trailed off, but then seemed to find the words he needed. “I know at the beginning of all this, I said I didn’t want to be together just for the babies. But now, I don’t think I can picture this any other way. Maybe they were meant to bring us together; to bring down our walls.” He swallowed, and then continued. “Regardless, I’m so happy to be doing this, and with you, and I can’t wait for whatever comes our way.”

Robin had no words; anything he would have said would just be a repeat of Killian’s. So he just reached over, lifted Killian’s chin off his shoulder, and kissed him passionately. And then again. And again, shifting in his place because he couldn’t easily straddle his boyfriend.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Killian finally panted when they paused for breath, “but what does that mean?”

“It means I feel the exact same way,” Robin breathed back. “And that I have an idea for another challenge.”

“What’s that, love?”

He smirked. “You know how there are...ways...of bringing on labor? Spicy foods, exercise, certain kinds of stimulation,” he explained, reaching for Killian’s chest and grazing his sensitive nipple through the thin cotton of his shirt.

Killian shivered in response. “Aye, I see what you’re saying love. Not just a race to the end, but see who can get the other one there?”

“Something like that.”

“You’re on.”

Though nothing came of their activities that night—other than plenty of giggles as they both maneuvered their bellies around each other—they weren’t discouraged in the slightest. The next morning became a contest to see who could withstand the most jalapenos and sriracha on their eggs. An afternoon stroll had them seeing who could walk the farthest without needing a rest. And they enjoyed some of the most pleasurable evenings they could remember—until they passed out from exhaustion, of course.

Robin was reminiscing on the previous night—when his view of Killian was blocked by his bump but his nerves were exceedingly aware of him and what he was doing—while leaning against the bar during a lull on his last night of work. He’d insisted on sticking it out until he couldn’t, and while he couldn’t move with much speed, he could still mix drinks just fine. But that didn’t stop his coworkers from hovering.

They were nearby, having their own conversation, as he was reclined with a hand on his bump. But suddenly, his entire stomach clenched under his palm. He was well-acquainted with the feeling of Braxton-Hicks contractions—they’d been intermittent all day—but this was considerably stronger, drawing a brief moan from him.

“Robin? You alright?” Will asked, in front of him in an instant.

“Ask me that again in 10 minutes,” he answered after taking a deep breath.

“Do I need to call Killian?”

“Not just yet.”

He tried to get comfortable again when nothing else immediately followed, and was in the middle of mixing a shot when another one hit, making him drop the glass and reach for the edge of the bar.

Will was at his side. “It’s only been 8 minutes, mate; want me to call Killian now?”

Robin could only nod. “Yeah. It’s time. And tell him that I won this one.”

After he got the call from Will, Killian had never driven faster in his life; his old Chevelle had no idea what was going on. But the child within him seemed to, and was kicking something fierce against the steering wheel. As anxious as Killian was for Robin, it seemed this little one was eager for its sibling to arrive.

He just hoped this one would stay put long enough—and prayed that it was just false labor he’d felt on the way out to the car.

No matter what, his world was going to change over the next several hours.

thanks for reading!!! tagging @sherlockianwhovian @ashley-knightingale @jennjenn615 @wyntereyez @superadam54

#captain hood ff #robin x killian #killian x robin #mpreg #my ff #a bump in the right direction

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eris0330 · 6 years

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BTS Concert // Experience // Tips

So i went to the BTS Concert in Amsterdam on 131018. It was a wild ride, and not only because of the fact it was my first time traveling, it was also my first BTS concert. So this is a post for people who will go to their first BTS concert (or any concert?) to be aware of and to settle some things down, or to have some type of expectations.

Disclaimer: I’m not saying this is like this at every concert, this is purely out of my own experience.

NOTE: You can see some of my pre-trip pictures and BTS Concert pictures + videos in my Instagram story highlight and it’s called “BTS // AMS”. (IG: Eris0330) Some epic things happened even after the concert in the airport, and i’m not lying when i’m saying my sunday was a fucking mess.

So enjoy!!

Information during the day of the concert

Ticket: GA

Time of arrival at concert line up: 8:00 (8 am)

Location: Amsterdam

Hotel stay: Holiday inn

Amount of people in group: 7

Merch Sale to begin: 12:00 (12 pm)

Doors opening to venue: 17:00 (5 pm)

Concert start: 20:00 (8 pm)

Concert duration: 2 hours and 30 minutes.

Fashion: Plaid yellow shirt, Black loose crop top, Black ripped jeans, Leg garter, Nike sneakers

Tips for being in line // Experience (This is btw not in a chronological order but a whole mess of things)

For the love of god, bring a lot of water. (Some Army’s were nice to hand out water bottles for us in line, Thank you!!)

Check the weather beforehand. (It was about 24+C and we were right in the sunlight, so please remember to get lots of water and a bit of shade. If you’re sensitive to the sun, please wear sunscreen.)

It’s okay to leave for the toilet, or go for the merch line, as long someone else will be willing to hold your spot. You can even plan it, so you can buy merch for you and your friends, without having all of you to go. (People were nice to let us come back without a problem)

Please buy some food the day prior to the concert, it can be sandwiches, minor snacks or bigger. Just remember to get something to eat. (Some Army’s were nice to share their snacks with us, Thank you!!)

The merch line started at around 8-9 am, but the sale already started earlier than stated. It started at around 9-10 am, even tho it was said to first start at 12 pm. Be quick, if you want merch. Shirts were sold out VERY fast. Already within two hours, the black and white (50€) shirts were sold out. We went 3 people to stand in line for merch, while the rest were holding our spot in the entry line.

There were lockers in the venue, but we ended up putting our stuff in my hotel room. Please look up the venue you’re going to, to check if they have lockers or the rules for a bag. (In Ziggo you were only allowed to have a bag the size of an A4 paper). Because if you get merch, you know where to put it.

Go to the bathroom at least 1-2 hours before entering the venue, if you’re a GA it will be hard to hold a spot inside the venue. So when you get a spot in the venue, you are most likely destined to stay there, that means if you want to keep that spot. A friend and I, was close to not getting back in line (because they were moving inside a barricaded line) but the security let us back in because of my pathetic plea of the fact i would lose my spot because I NEEDED TO PEE AND THE LINE STARTED MOVING. A lot of the times, the line was moving and it were swinging with 1-2 metres, it was rare it moved A LOT. The doors were planned to open at 17:00, so we didn’t expect the line to move any further, but we were wrong. (We thought we timed it alright, because we went to pee and drop off things around 15:00 (3 pm), but the line apparently moved.)

Please change the way you stand in between minutes (30+ minutes), so you won’t be standing on your heel for too long, it can make you feel dizzy. So differ a bit in your standing, to get the pressure around on your feet.

Please throw away your trash if you can, do not leave it on the ground. A lot of trash were near the venue under the bridge where we were standing in line and food, blankets, bottles and cans were left behind. Some people were falling over it! Try to help others, even tho it might not seem like something big.

You will sweat and others will too. It’s no big deal.

It will be VERY hot in the venue. I ended up taking my yellow shirt off to wrap it around my waist instead. Despite my very ripped jeans a loose black top, i was sweating like crazy and the show haven’t even started yet. (Bring a fan, or piece of paper with you, to fan yourself. If you feel dizzy, call for security.) Or don’t wear too much clothes. If i had the chance, i’d change my outfit.

We were only allowed to bring 500 ml water inside the venue and it were definitely not enough. Staff had to bring out small cups of water, for the people who were lucky enough to get a cup. So please, stay hydrated throughout the day!!!!

People are greedy, I am too. I met two kinds of Army’s, the ones who were nice and helped me in the venue, by not standing too close to me and asked me if i was okay. Then there were the ones who didn’t care, and were fighting to get up front by pushing as much as they could, means their bodies were as close as they could to mine, to pass through me but there weren’t enough space so i started to heat up and felt cramped and dizzy. Some does it unintentionally, because it’s in the moment of a concert and they want to see their faves up close. I get that, but please look out for each other. I’m not saying i didn’t do it, because i probably did it too without knowing. whenever there was space to move forward, i did. But i never pushed myself on someone, like someone else did with me. There were times, i constantly had a bag pushing in my stomach and a pair of boobs pressing against my back. Heck people even used my shoulder for their arm rest, to record a whole performance??

Some people passed out and were pulled out of the crowd or walked out of the crowd (that is mainly caused from being too warm and people pushing from behind), plus someone not far behind me. PLEASE call for security or make it aware that there is an emergency through the others around. Take care of each other and take care of yourself. If you feel dizzy, tell someone next to you so they know.

If you have sensitive ears, wear ear plugs. It will take most of the screaming, because Army will scream their lungs out.

If you have long hair, put it in a pony tail. It’s not a must, but it’s a great tip to not overheat. I had my hair in a pony tail, but that wasn’t my plan at first because i look ridiculous with a pony tail, but thank god i did. My hair got pulled a few times, but i bet it wasn’t their intention. A girl in front of me, had her hair out and my hand/fingers constantly pulled strands of her hair. I told her before the concert started that it wasn’t on purpose and she said that she knew. (You were so sweet but you got lost in the crowd!!)

If you go as a group, please make a plan for after the concert. Where you will meet, if you lose each other. Or hold each other’s hands, while walking out.

It’s okay, if your legs feel like you have been running a mile after the concert. (Unless there are other symptoms of being uncomfortable, then tell someone). You have been using your leg muscles, to stand, jump, and tip toed to get a better view for over 2 hours. My legs were VERY wobbly, like spaghetti and i looked like i had been drinking too many beers.

Even though you don’t feel hungry, or thirsty after the concert, please eat some snacks (doesn’t have to be a lot) and drink a whole water bottle at least. My friends and i, were VERY exhausted and tired after the concert. Mainly due to dehydration and not enough food (for me at least). I remember being hungry going in the venue at 17:00, as in it was RUMBLING. When the concert ended, i didn’t feel hungry anymore but i did feel VERY tired and light-headed. I know my body well, i need to get a bit of food if i have been hungrier earlier, cause i might feel more uncomfortable later on, if i don’t fix it.

Get a Soda, to get some sugar. It helped me when i was shaking due to panic and stress. (Going a bit up, i mentioned almost not getting back in line) When i ran back with my friends to the line, and luckily got in. I was SO stressed and in after effect of the panic i went through. Due to my running, while being in fear and stress, my hands started to shake really bad. It usually happens very visibly, if i can’t have control of things.

If you’re going with friends, let them know if you have any problems being in a crowd or other things, that they should be aware of. My friends were amazing to ask if i were okay, and it’s IMPORTANT that you tell them if you’re not okay.

Don’t be afraid to ask people for help, even people you don’t know. They are very nice and have the same interest as you. You all came to hear them, so why wouldn’t they feel a little connected to you?

We came to stand in queue at 8 am, and we still managed to get pretty good spots. About 3-4 metres from the stage, and the view was good through the concert.

People WILL move around during the concert, so if you end up standing behind a tall person, it doesn’t necessarily mean they will stand there through the whole concert. Right at the second the music started, people started pushing and we were moved around, but not a lot, just enough for me to get a better view actually.

If you smoke, move out of the line to stand a bit away from the queue to smoke. Some people are sensitive to the smell, or feel uncomfortable if they continuously get smoke in their face even tho it isn’t your intention. It’s just decent respect for others.

Remember, if you are nice to others, they will most certainly be nice to you as well. I had a good small talk with a few Army’s during in queue for merch or the queue to get in. They helped me with some questions, when i couldn’t see anything or if someone said something i couldn’t understand (mainly because i’m a foreigner)

I guess this is all i had! I don’t know if it helped anyone, but i hope it did with some! Enjoy your concert!

Despite the good and bad things i mentioned, it was definitely an experience i loved very much! It’s something i’ll never forget! The concert is most likely what you make it to, try to think positive and enjoy yourself regardless. I had to tell myself that a lot and it did help.

#bts #bts concert #bts amsterdam #Bts concert experience #bts tips #concert #concert tips #love yourself #love yourself tour #tips #tricks #experience #story time

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tinderthecity · 5 years

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The Mountaineer

I’m not sure if this blog is a catalog of my dating escapades over the years or a catalog of the most influential dating apps as time goes by, but I guess one thing stays the same, dating apps and I are perpetually on this journey together! (slow clap).

This time, Hinge is the app of choice. A little background information on Hinge, for those of your lucky enough to be unfamiliar with dating app particulars, this one has you provide six pictures as well as the answers to three questions of your choosing from a pool of questions the app provides. You are then asked your age, height, area you live in, and you can also provide some more particulars like school, religious affiliation, if you drink, smoke cigs or pot, do drugs, have children, want children, etc.

Relevant side note: Recently a coworker of mine sent me a link to an article with her subtitle “your kinda guy.” The article was titled “I am a Pacific Northwest Man on Tinder and I will Die if I Go Indoors.” It’s hysterical and exposing the great outdoorsman facade that can become all too trendy on dating apps.

From the article:

“‘Being inside’ is for the weak, the tired, the cold, the hungry, the ‘people with homes,’ the ‘quaints.’ I’m not interested in those who cozy up with Netflix or enjoy going to restaurants or movies. Everything you could possibly need to survive, thrive, and entertain yourself exists in The Great Outdoors. You like sitting down on a comfortable couch? Gross. You like buying groceries in a store? Disgusting. If I am not constantly in some situation under the sun where my life is potentially in danger, I’m not about it. I get off on adrenaline. And nature.”

“My first three profile pics are from epic outdoor activities which showcase a level of fitness you couldn’t even begin to rival. The next three pics are of the exact same thing. The next one is a total thirst trap, which means something different when you’re just dehydrated all the time. The last photo is of a mountain that really gets me fired the fuck up. My face is blurry in each shot because I am Always. In. Motion.”

Lol you get the point (check out the full article for more linked at the bottom, it’s worth it). I died of laughter while also feeling entirely seen. I’m not a dating app girl who falls for the models or the guys on yachts who dress like fancy businessmen or have tons of photos at rooftop bars or are listed as working high-profile jobs. Ask any of my close friends and they’ll tell you that my thirst traps are the guys who seem down to earth (literally) and like to spend time outside, traveling, hiking, etc.

It was after reading this article that I was able to put my last date into context as to why I was so excited and why it was so terribly bad.

The Mountaineer liked me on Hinge and I immediately thought he was pretty cute, loved his answer to the question “I’m looking for....” “Someone who is upfront and honest about what they are thinking and feeling,” (swoon) and his pictures, which, you guessed it.. were all outdoors.

Unfortunately, he lived in Long Island and liked me about a week before Christmas, when I would be going home for about a 10 day span, and afterward he would be gone for a long weekend. We decided we would just chat in the meantime, so we did, everyday. We talked about all sorts of things, but tbh he did talk/ask a lot about hiking haha.

When we could finally meet up after almost three weeks of talking, we decided he would come into the city on a Saturday and we could hit a museum and grab dinner. I chose the Natural History Museum for us to check out because he hadn’t been yet and I know it never disappoints.

The day before our date, the Mountaineer asked me if I’ll be meeting him at his train station. I live in the 150s, the museum is on 79th and his train would be pulling him into 34th. I told him we could meet at the museum since it’s in the middle. He said he didn’t like taking subways alone (interesting, Mr. Adventure) so he would walk from 34th to 79th (about a 45 min walk). Then he realized it was going to rain on Saturday and said he would walk in the rain, to which I told him (trying to be an accommodating Manhattanite) I could just meet him at 34th and take the train with him up to the museum if that’s the case.

The day of comes, it’s a bit rainy outside, as expected, and I get a text from the Mountaineer asking if we should move our date because of the rain (..really?). I basically said no but it’s up to you.

We decide to meet, I go down to 34th street to meet him. I’m running a few minutes late and of course those are the days when train delays hit.

Me: hey I’m on the express but I’m hitting some delays, 😑I’m going to be a little late, sorryyyy

Him: tsk tsk I’m quite disappointed already 😔

Me: 🙃🙃🙃

Him: Oh that’s cute, you think I’m joking

*wow, bold double dig move for not having met yet*

Me: I can just switch to the uptown train at the next stop if you’d rather

Him: haha I’m just messing with you. Would you really?

😇

We meet, he’s def not exactly what I pictured, maybe the 3 inch height difference than he listed had something to do about it or maybe it’s the ten minute first impression of salty remarks that he lead with... He refuses to take the train and has us walk 40 blocks up to the museum in the rain. I quickly realize that the museum and dinner plans we have might be a big mistake.

Once his saltiness simmers down our conversation gets better, and I thought maybe this will actually be a good time.

We get to the museum, and the lines are INSANE, so we decide we’ll go to another one. I give two options that are close by and ask which he’d prefer. I told him I’ve been to both and don’t have a preference to which he says “typical girl not wanting to make a choice” (wow, okay ew) to which I say “that’s actually not true, I chose the first museum..”

He decides on one across the park meaning another 20+ minute walk in the rain. He hops over a half wall into the park and I (not being in the parkour mood) decide I will walk to the entrance pathway about 100 feet away. He pokes fun at me and tells me to have a sense of adventure. I point out that he is wearing outdoor gear head to foot (yes, that is what he wore) and I’m wearing normal not weather proof clothing, not ideal to be jumping into mud.

As we walk across the park he tells me a bit about himself. like how he doesn’t actually own any casual clothing aside from outdoor gear (okay..), he didn’t vote in the presidential election (a little red flag starts waving in the back of my mind), and he has kept eluding to trust issues of some sort by questioning my own honesty (red flag starts flapping harder).

He asks me a little about myself, and somehow we get on the topic of horrible dates we’ve been on. He doesn’t have much to say, but as this blog will tell you, I could go on for hours. I chose to share what I consider to still be my worst date to this day, last years Valentine’s Day post, Mr. Mindful (or as others know him, Touch-barrier). My biggest red flag of all was telling Mountaineer that story and having him respond with “Oh that’s it?” THAT’S IT!? The guy had a gender stereotype conspiracy theory complex, swore at me via text for turning him down, divulged his dating coaches advice and said he should have broken the touch barrier sooner with me, information I learned all within a 24 hour time span. And yet the Mountaineer was more stuck on my reluctance to say - no I never want to see you again - to that guy face to face on our date, because apparently that was Mountaineer’s touch point for accusing me of dishonesty.

We get to the museum (I know... we haven’t even started the actual date yet). Once inside walking around and looking at art, conversation starts to get normal again (aside from him saying that he likes contemporary art but this wasn’t quite what he meant). By the end of the museum I was like okay, I don’t hate this.

Then comes dinner.

We choose a Thai restaurant, again on the opposite side of the park. Yelp gives the location 4.5 stars but when we walk up to the door the grade sign says “grade pending” (not uncommon) and he immediately looks for another place to go because I guess that’s unacceptable. After a few minutes of standing in the cold and probably noticing my poorly disguised apathy for this problem he decides we can go there because, like I said, it’s rated well.

The hostess seats us immediately but we’re close to the door and the Mountaineer doesn’t like that so he asks for us to be moved away from the door. We are then seated right behind the hostess stand and as we sit he goes “wow really?” and proceeds to be visibly and audibly upset about it for at least 10 minutes. He rants to me about how going to a restaurant isn’t just about the food but about the experience and how this experience is bs. (Yes, this two dollar sign Thai restaurant we’re going to because we want a quick meal really isn’t hitting my high class needs). I tell him we could take ownership and ask to move but he says no and continues to pout. As we look at the menu I notice the Mountaineer, as a non vegetarian, keeps mentioning tofu dishes and I ask why. He then bestows all of his restaurant wisdom upon me and explains how he rarely eats meat, or even seafood, at restaurants because he doesn’t trust them (here we go with the trust again), and especially not Asian restaurants. He also let me know that if he ever does order a steak, he likes his steak well-done but he orders it medium-rare and has them send it back to the kitchen when it comes out to cook it longer, because if he asks for it well-done he’s certain they’ll give him a crappy piece of meat.

At this point I am on the verge of stabbing myself with the utensils in front of me but instead I order shrimp pad thai to spite him. He doesn’t ask me a single question at dinner and is less than kind to the serving staff (the reddest flag of the red flags), I ask questions to fill the painful void for myself and when he asks if I want to go to Patagonia with him to look at some more outdoor gear he wants for himself I tell him I need to head home to my pup.

I hugged him, I left, I haven’t spoken to him since and I couldn't be more grateful.

I will admit, I was a little upset when I left, partially because I had been excited about the Mountaineer for two weeks and felt bummed by my off point expectations, but even more so I was upset because I wasted almost an entire Saturday walking in the rain and listening to restaurant conspiracy theories when I could have been at home with my pup.

This date taught me (and hopefully you) two things: 1) You can be into Mountains without being be down to Earth 2) Never plan a multi-layered first date

Happy Love Day Everyone

(For a nice complimentary laugh, here’s the link to that brief article I mentioned earlier that was obviously written about Mountaineer and his brethren.)

https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/i-am-a-pacific-northwest-man-on-tinder-and-i-will-die-if-i-go-indoors

#online dating #dating #tinder #tinder and the city #love #romance #dating apps #relationships #tinder matches #hinge #bumble #valentines day

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chantalkrcmar · 4 years

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Moving Over To The Dark Side

A new experience for me: participating in India’s shadow economy.

We Mumbaikers have been in severe lockdown for almost nine weeks now, and this morning we were greeted with the headline: “Mumbai Headed Toward Another Lockdown.” It’s pretty hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when the tunnel keeps getting extended under your feet. Mumbai is a complete mess. Some western news outlets have reported that India is relaxing lockdown restrictions, but that is not true in Mumbai (and some other cities). India is a big country, so any reporting on India as a monolith is typically inaccurate. (Oh, and because friends in the US have been asking: No, there are still no international flights yet.)

For those of you in the US, this might paint the picture of COVID-19 in Mumbai a bit more clearly... Mumbai is India’s Ground Zero, NYC on steroids. Like NYC, we have a gigantic bulk of India’s COVID-19 cases -- and growing. Like NYC, we have a beleaguered healthcare system, only way more so. India is a developing country, after all, and this pandemic lays that extremely bare. Our extreme population density, and horrendous state of healthcare, makes Mumbai the mess that it is. Our friends who live in Manhattan told us that even at the height of the COVID crisis in NYC, they could still go out for long walks. We don’t even have that option — partly because we are the world’s most densely populated city (honestly, sections of Mumbai make Times Square look deserted), so letting people out of their homes makes social distancing very hard, and partly because politicians here just have a serious lack of imagination and can’t think of ways to manage letting us out of our buildings (like certain addresses at certain times of the day, for instance). Perhaps they just don’t know if they could control us once we’re out.

So about that shadow economy… Still only essential shops (groceries and medicines) are supposed to be open. And still only adults are allowed out of their buildings — and only to buy essentials. No frivolous walks — even if your mental health depends on it…Yet I got a message from a friend of mine about some shop selling some toys and art supplies. Just send a WhatsApp message, and you’ll be told what to do…Without thinking much about the possible illegality of our actions, Rahul and I messaged, and put in an order for pick-up. Rahul then walked to the designated location, cash in hand, and picked up the parcel before scurrying home.

We finally got new paint for Anamika, a desperately-needed item! We also got a kids cricket set (which may be more for Rahul and me than for her). We have been playing cricket in our cramped living room — much to the chagrin of my father-in-law who is terrified we are going to shear off one of the heads of one of the gods immortalized in statues all over our apartment with one of our wicked fast balls! I love my father-in-law but the thrill of wondering if today may be the day that one of my fast balls beheads Ganesha (who was already beheaded once by his own father, no less) keeps me at it.

Anamika’s been obsessed with making magic potions lately. And one she’s been very keen on actually using is a potion to make all the statues of the gods and goddesses in our apartment disappear. I have had to stop her from smearing mixtures of water, sugar, small ground up erasers, glitter, and other disgusting items, on Shiva. My in-laws are extremely patient with Anamika, but I am afraid that kind of desecration might be the limit. I don’t want us to be thrown out on the street.

[Apparently, googly eyes are especially effective in magic potions. Ah, the things I learn from my daughter...]

So after our illicit purchase, we pretended it was Christmas. Anything to break up the monotony! And anything to forget that Rahul had just participated in what felt like a drug deal. Lockdown is getting to my head so ethical standards may be slipping.

[One of the benefits to having a plastic christmas tree: It’s ready whenever we need it in a lockdown pinch!]

[Anamika even decorated her bedroom door for Christmas in May.]

As if finally getting Anamika some paint was not excitement enough, Amazon has now started delivering some things other than random and occasional food items. This is a huge relief for one reason: underwear. Right after lockdown happened, Anamika went through a huge growth spurt. And of course we could not accommodate her new sized body with new sized clothing. So the poor child has been soldiering through these long locked-in days while picking wedgies all the time. Dealing with this COVID-19 crisis is a lot to expect of any child — even without the constant wedgies. New undies are way better than any cricket set!

An update on our access to the Great Outdoors (otherwise known as Poop Parking Lot):

Yes, it is filled with more and more poop. And, yes, Anamika becomes more and more adept at avoiding it on her scooter.

(Sorry if that is distasteful to read, but this is our reality, and this is my blog. So there. :-) )

But our parking lot is also experiencing an uptick of wildlife — mostly fat rats lumbering about as if they own the place. Well, since humans aren’t around, why would they not feel like they own the place?!

But we have seen a snail…

And we have seen wild parakeets through Anamika’s bedroom window. Now that was an amazing moment! (Sorry about the poor quality of the pics, but I have an old phone with a terrible camera.)

A less fun fact about the wildlife in Poop Parking Lot is that Anamika has had to scooter around a few pigeons and crows that were smooshed by vehicles. A couple remarkable things about this: 1) Anamika seems completely unfazed by these dead birds; honestly, she’s seen it all in India so her take-it-all-in-stride attitude should not surprise me, I guess; and 2) there are so few cars and motorcycles moving in our parking lot since folks are barely going out, so how the birds got run over baffles me. I can only guess that the pigeons and crows have become so dazed by lockdown (like us humans) that they have lost the reflex to move when the rare vehicle does come their way.

On other wildlife notes: Swarms of locusts are hitting parts of India. This is actually no laughing matter since locusts can totally destroy crops. Farmers are reportedly staying awake all night to keep locusts away from their fields. Honestly, if I believed in such things, I would say that the end of time is nigh. In India alone we are facing a pandemic, swarms of locusts in some states, floods in other states, and cyclones in others. It’s of biblical proportions.

And yet another note about wildlife…Monkeys are reported to have run off with some COVID-19 test samples in Uttar Pradesh. As Rahul said, “Only in India…”

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.timesnownews.com/amp/mirror-now/in-focus/article/meerut-monkeys-run-away-with-covid-19-test-samples-locals-fear-spread-of-infection/598669

And one final note about wildlife: this time, human children. You faithful blog readers might be wondering these past couple months if there are no other children that live in our apartment complex since I never mention Anamika interacting with any other kids — even from a distance. Indeed, there are many other children. However, kids under 10 years of age, and adults over 65 years of age, are not supposed to leave their apartments. Ever. And all other parents in our compound are actually abiding by it. Truly, they are keeping their kids locked in CONSTANTLY. They must be much better rule-followers than Rahul and me — which is amazing to me given that Indians in general tend to be born rules-breakers.

Knowing that absolutely no time outside the walls of our apartment would spell our demise, we said to hell with that ridiculous lockdown law early on. There is no one in our parking lot or on our roof, so why can’t Anamika at least get some time to run around and be a kid? We never dare venture outside of our building gates. We all have acute cabin fever even with her at least getting out for 30-40 minutes every morning (longer than that and we are asking for dehydration trouble). By the way, Rahul and I are dreading the coming monsoon. There will be days when we just cannot go down to Poop Parking Lot for even a few minutes. The rains can be very heavy, and can last for days at a stretch. The bright side is that, of course, the parking lot will be cleaner.

At this point, I have to give a big shout-out to Rahul. He is one of the most persistent people I have ever met, and that quality is standing us in good stead right now. He really is the reason that Anamika continues to agree to go out every morning. Given the heat, the condition of the parking lot, and the fact that no other kids are ever there to even wave at, she is reluctant. But Rahul will not give up, and Anamika is better off for her daily forays (as am I since that is when I can do some yoga or run the stairs in our building…doing this lockdown is hard; doing this lockdown without me getting any exercise to blow steam would be untenable).

Besides being persistent, my guy is also darn clever. He found Anamika’s soft spot: music from Frozen 1 and 2. And he’s using that to his advantage. She mostly goes outside now because of the promise of hearing her favorite music. Like the Pied Piper, Rahul runs ahead of Anamika while blasting the music on his phone; she chases him (and the music) around the parking lot. All the while both of them get an excellent cardio workout from running, scootering, and singing at the top of their lungs as they do so. Anamika sings “loud and proud” (as some of her teachers used to say), and now knows almost every word to every song in both Frozen 1 and 2.

True confessions: Anamika is not the only one in our family who is captivated by Frozen 1 and 2 music. Rahul and I, too, are really into it. One of our favorite pastimes now is to ask each other at random moments: “Which Frozen song is stuck in your head right now?” or “Which Frozen song was in your head when you woke up this morning?” Never one for pretensions, I have even fewer now. I’ll admit that I like a healthy dose of Brain Candy (especially during a crisis) and music from Frozen 1 and 2 certainly are that. I proudly own the fact that I know almost all the words to “Wanna Build a Snowman” now.

A completely random point:

Anamika just announced to me this morning: “I am not returning to ASB [her school].” When I asked her why, fully expecting her to tell me something about all the uncertainties around school and COVID-19, she answered: “Because I am going to life-guarding school. So I can become a lifeguard at Tej Uncle’s beach [the one in Goa where we went on our winter break].” Last week, she was planning on going to rocket-flying school. Thank god for her sense of humor — which is not humor to her. She is damn serious about going to life-guarding school. Regardless, her pluck and wackiness go a long way in this awful, and awfully long, lockdown.

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vitamindripstherapy · 4 years

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What it's really like to have an IV vitamin drip like Rihanna

Jet lag. Oh jet lag. For my job I routinely travel to LA and also my god do I experience the transatlantic flight. My body clock is around the store. Wide awake at 3am? Tick. Passing out at the table at 6pm? Yep. Failure to string a sentence with each other for weeks after my return? Aha. As well as no matter just how much I spend/waste on homeopathic oils, immune booster shots and green juices to attempt as well as eliminate jet lag, nothing appears to function.

So when I returned from a particularly difficult trip to LA just recently, which included four days of torrential rain (I know, it never ever rains in LA) and I was provided an IV VitaDrip at The Elixir Center in London to help me conquer it, I couldn't say yes fast enough. Well as quick as was possible given my discombobulated brain.

I have actually constantly intended to experiment with a vitamin drip, which the similarity Cara Delevingne, Rihanna as well as Rita Ora are all followers of. So it must be great right? It involves vitamins being injected straight right into your bloodsteam via an intravenous drip for a choice me up.

The Elixir Clinic offers 17 various therapies, each with a different cocktail of nutrients, which guarantee to deal with hangovers, cholesterol and also even help hair growth (I'm assuming of the head selection). Normal infusions are advised for the best outcomes.

I had actually presumed I would go with the Jet Lag VitaDrip but when I get to 6pm after job (pre a drinks party) the resident registered nurse has various other suggestions. After reviewing my signs (failure to sleep, dull skin, dehydration, queasiness, unclear head ...) she advises I opt for the Mood Assistance VitaDrip (₤ 300). This includes high dosages of "really feel good" B vitamins, magnesium, and takes a hr. Apparently it is ideal for "cleansing the body as well as general wellness, leaving you really feeling excellent". Bingo.

Vitamin drip picked I take a seat in a comfy elbow chair in the treatment space. For some unusual reason I had not registered until now that having an IV drip would involve having a needle penetrated a vein in my arm for 60 mins. So it's a little bit of a shock when the nurse tells me she's going to pop one into my appropriate arm. It stings a bit. She holds it in position with clinical tape to ensure it doesn't vacate location throughout my hour treatment.

The needle is attached to a bag filled with orange liquid-- my vitamins. As well as the nurse gives me some publications and says to shout if I need anything.

5mins: Nothing has actually happened.

10 mins: I still really feel absolutely nothing as well as scroll with my Instagram feed to eliminate the boredom.

14 mins: Strange. I begin getting a fizzy effervescent sensation in my nostrils. The only point I can contrast the feeling to is having a Berocca tablet computer pushed up your nose as well as it dissolving there. Not that I have ever tried this yet it's what I envision it can seem like.

20mins: Points are beginning to get interesting. This sensation continues and it really feels rather strange, yet not undesirable, and also the vitamins are plainly going in. Not long after I start to feel very worn out as well as sluggish. I'm so grateful I'm taking a seat as I feel extremely weird, like my entire body is heavy.

35 minutes: Currently the exhaustion goes the opposite way as well as I begin really feeling extremely light headed and spaced out. That am I? Am I truly in the area? Ooh it's intense in right here.

45 mins: The unusual spaced-out sensation has lifted and now I simply feel actually good. That Berocca up the nose point is still there, however in addition to that, I feel outstanding. I'm actually anxious currently to leave the structure and also to satisfy my friends. I feel way much more energised than when I got here. The final 15 mins drag on as well as on and also every time I look at the IV bag it doesn't appear to have actually decreased. Begin.

1hr: The registered nurse comes in and asks me how it was. I feel rather clear-headed and that the taste of vitamins at the rear of my throat is rather odd - evidently this is quite typical. She takes my drip out of my arm and also places a big plaster on my arm to quit any blood loss.

I am still fairly doubtful concerning the entire process as well as for how long this euphoric sensation will certainly last however in all honesty as I walk out of the building I feel far better than I have in months. I have power, I really feel fresh, I am top of the world.

Later on that evening ... When I reach my drinks celebration my friends inform me that my skin looks outstanding as well as I am beautiful. I commemorate my new-found energy and also glowy skin by consuming alcohol every one of the red wine in bench.

The following early morning: I wake up with a horrible hangover-- seems IV drips can not stop that.

Was it worth it? If you don't like needles or are intending on going out boozing, probs avoid. Yet in all the pictures from the night prior to I do look healthy and balanced and also bright eyed, as well as for the next couple of days (as soon as I have actually abandoned the merlot head) I do feel better, and also I sleep better. While I'm most likely not mosting likely to make this a routine point (Zara sale > vitamin drips, soz), it's certainly something I 'd take into consideration if I was really feeling especially drained and also had a big conference or heavy job week ahead.

The post “ What it's really like to have an IV vitamin drip like Rihanna “ was first seen on Cosmopolitan by Lottie Lumsden

In Toronto? The IV Lounge is a full service IV vitamin therapy clinic offering intravenous infusions such as Myers cocktail, Hangover IV, and high dose vitamin C just to mention a few.

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cornishbirdblog · 5 years

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Standing in the oppressive heat of the desert between Tucson and Phoenix I feel a very long way from the green, rain-soaked valleys of Cornwall. It is a vast and untamed landscape like nothing I have ever experienced before in all my travels, yet thousands of Cornish found themselves drawn here in the 19th century. Some found their fortunes, others hardship and loss, or worse.

“These dry, rocky places are made of drought, created by absence, the sky holding back on purpose . . . Deserts are mummifiers, bone makers.” Craig Childs, Essays from Dry Places, Arizona, 2019

So, how did one particular Cornishman come to end his days in the deserts of Arizona more than 5000 miles from home? And was his death just a unfortunate tragedy or something far more sinister?

The Bodies of Two Men

On 17th May 1894 a report appeared in the Mesa Free Press, the newspaper for the Maricopa county of Arizona. It read:

The bodies of two men were found a few days ago on the desert near the Congress mine. One of them left a note giving their names as William Rogers and Wm. McDonald.

The bodies had been initially discovered in early May. In the days that followed more information about the circumstances surrounding the deaths and the contents of the note began to emerge.

It was established that one of the men was William Rogers from Cornwall.

William Rogers

William was born in Ashton near Breage in 1869. He came from a long line of miners. Both his father Francis and both his grandfathers worked underground. His parents, Francis Rogers and Thomasine Kitto, had grown up together in the village and married in 1854. William was their youngest of five children.

On the 29th July 1889 aged 21 William Rogers boarded the SS Umbria and began the long voyage to the USA. The log records his name, age and occupation – miner.

SS Umbria 1884, Francis Frith negative no. 26619.

Cornish in Arizona

The stalling of the Cornish mining industry in the early part of the 19th century forced Cornish miners to search for work in other areas of mineral production, such as South Africa, Australia and America. It is estimated that more than 500,000 Cornish left their home in the 19th century.

Initially, many settled in Wisconsin and Michigan. Later making their way further west to California, Nevada, Colorado and Arizona. A train ticket that could take you from one side of the country to the other could be purchased in the 1880s for $40.

Cornish miners in Arizona

The Cornish could easily have integrated in to North American society but instead others found them ‘clanish’. They utilized their ethnicity to their advantage. Being from Cornwall implied expertise in mining that would secure the best paid jobs. And the Cornish mine captains took on their fellow countrymen first, often giving them higher rates of pay and special privileges. The Cornish were also said to be constantly looking for employment for friends and relatives. One explanation for their nickname, “Cousin Jack,” suggests that when asked if they knew someone who could do a job in the mine the answer was always, “My Cousin Jack can.”

From Montana to Arizona

William Rogers’ adventures began in the north of America. We know that he spent time in Helena, Montana. He then moved to Telluride in Colorado and then sometime around 1894 made his way to Arizona.

The Vulture Mine near Wickenburg. Credit: the appendix.net

The 1890s had seen a severe devaluation of silver and copper in the US. Miners were forced to move to where they thought there was work, or the rumour of work. From 1893 to 1900 many miners from all the old silver camps of the West became caught up in the search for gold. Arizona was incredibly rich in the precious mineral. Numerous new gold deposits were discovered, notably in Congress in the Bradshaw Mountains, the Mammoth north of Tucson, and the rich Harqua Hala. Fortunes were made. Gold fever was rife.

William Rogers is thought to have been on his way to the gold rush in Harqua Hala when he died. But how exactly William and his companion met their ends in the desert is not entirely clear. In fact, it’s a little ambiguous exactly who died out in the desert sun at all.

Gold Rush

The first reports in the newspapers said that the dead men were travelling to Harque Hala from the town Prescott. A distance of over 120 miles, they may have had transport part of the way, horses perhaps, but it appears that they were completing the last stretch of the journey on foot.

The Harqua Hala mountains: credit Google Earth

“The bodies of two Cornishmen who were on their way from Prescott to Harqua Hala, were found near the sink of Date Creek a few days ago . . . The two men had perished from thirst.” Monhave County Miner, 19th May 1894

Haraquahala like so many of Arizona’s old mining settlements is now a dusty, forgotten ghost town. But it once saw a gold rush of epic proportions. The mine there produced $3,630,000 of gold and nuggets worth upwards of $300 could be found just lying on the desert floor!

Gold mined in Arizona

By 1888 it had become a sprawling boom town with saloons, boarding houses, a post office and its own newspaper – The Harqua Hala Miner. Rogers was making his way towards this town and, he hoped, his fortune.

Culling’s Well

The bodies of our two boys were discovered near a dried up creek just a few miles from Culling’s Well. They were roughly 20 miles north of the Harqua Hala mountains. The well, which should have been their salvation, is now almost completely disappearing back into the desert but movingly it has retained a connection to William Rogers’ death.

Culling’s Well was established in the 1860s by Charles C. Culling. This innovative man had to dig down through 250ft (76m) of dirt before he found water. He then sold this cool, sweet ground water for 25c per animal or 50c a barrel. Culling was described by his contemporaries as “a jovial man, always giving a hearty welcome to travellers”. His was the only stable water source for 100 miles and when he died in 1878 the business was taken over by his widow’s new husband, John Drew. Drew just so happens to be one of the men who discovered the bodies of the Cornish prospectors.

Local legend has it that Drew was so moved by how close the two men were to the well when they died of thirst he decided to act. Sadly deaths like theirs seem to have been pretty common. One newspaper wrote at the time:

“Year by year the addition to the number of deaths on the deserts of the southwest are growing and yet the supervisors of the various counties take no action in the matter of putting up guideboards for the convenience of travellers and in so doing save many men from an awful death.”

Drew however decided to try and ensure no other travellers perished so near to water again. After the Cornish men’s deaths a light was suspended on the top of a long pole above Culling’s Well to act as a beacon for lost travellers. The settlement quickly became known as ‘the lighthouse in the desert’.

Graveyard Culling’s Well

There is a small graveyard at Culling’s Well, it isn’t confirmed but it’s entirely possible that Rogers and McDonald are buried here.

Rogers’ Last Words

The bodies of the two men were found some distance from each other. A journal containing a scribbled note was found on one body. the note read:

“I remain your loving son, William Rogers. Dying for want of water. Do no grieve for me mother, I am dying. Send to Telluride, Colo for my trunk. My partner will go on to Harqua Hala, his name is Bill McDonald. The key to my trunk is in my pocket.”

In the pocket of the other body was a letter of credit for £15, 3s issued by Wells Fargo Bank made out to Mrs. Constance Hoskins from William McDonald.

However, doubts over the identity of the bodies would quickly begin to surface.

The Manner of his Death

The circumstances surrounding the deaths of Willam Rogers and William McDonald at first seemed straightforward. They apparently died of dehydration when they became lost in the desert near Culling’s Well.

That was the story that appeared in The Times in London on 16th May 1894. The article bought dozens of letters to Justice Kincaid from worried relatives back in England, including one from William King, Rogers’ brother-in-law. The letter was published in The Arizona Republican in August 1894. King asks if Kincaid can provide more information concerning the circumstances of Rogers’ death. He writes that he has already contracted T J Drew “one of the discoverers of the bodies” but had no reply.

You see, rumours of foul play had begun circulating in late May, since another letter had been published. This letter was sent anonymously from a mining town called Harrisburg, Arizona. It claimed that the dead men had originally been part of a party of four who had left Congress Mine together. And that the bodies were William Rogers and a man called Hoskins, not McDonald.

Some twenty miles after setting off the letter says the four men separated. Hoskins and Rogers left the group. The other two, McDonald and an unknown man, went to on Copper Camp, then Culling’s Well, Harqua Hala and finally made their way to Harrisburg. In Harrisburg the writer claims that these men had been heard to say that “their partners were left in the desert to die”.

The letter goes on to assert that:

“Rogers and his partner [Hoskins] went to the Copper Camp and got water and went on. McDonald and his partner went to work at the Harqua Hala mines, never saying anything about their partners . . . If they had made it known men would have gone in every direction until they had been found . . . When found the dead men were lying on their backs with their hats over their faces. No man dies in that shape with thirst. Foul play is suspected and the case ought to be investigated. It was done in Maricopa county but the bodies were brought over to Yuma and buried.”

So, how exactly did the men come to reach their ends? Was there an argument, over money perhaps? Were Rogers and Hoskins (if it was Hoskins) just weaker than the others and rather than help they went on without them? As far as I can establish the deaths were never investigated further.

Unanswered Questions

The anonymous statement printed in The Arizona Republican raises a number of interesting questions. The most pressing being not just how the men died but who exactly was it that died in the wilderness.

Mrs. Constance Hoskins, the lady of the credit note found on the second body, lived at Churchtown in Breage. Very close to the Rogers family, did they already know each other? According to the 1891 census her husband William, a blacksmith, is abroad. She is also living with their two year old son and her brother, William Peller who records his occupation as retired Gold Miner.

If the second body wasn’t McDonald then why was that what was written in the journal? Was it ever verified that Rogers’ had written the note? The whole episode leaves me with so many unanswered questions. Perhaps something more will come to light in the future, in which case I will certainly let you all know!

Look out for another post coming soon about the Cornish in Arizona . . .