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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years

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Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn (Ezra x f!reader)

Summary: Staying in a hotel on Puggart Bench while in between expeditions has given you and Ezra a lot of time to develop your relationship both emotionally and physically. On your last night before you depart for your next trip together, you decide to try out one of Ezra’s kinks. Your heartstrings aren’t the only things that will be getting tied up this evening.

Word Count: 6.8k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! because this is like 80% smut

Warnings: mild allusion to a rocky relationship from this oneshot (both partners have made up and are now in an established relationship), smut, soft-ish bondage (f gets tied up), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl please), dirty talk, swearing, a hand on a throat but no choking, one (1) instance of ✨spitting✨, questionable kink shaming??💀(a joke is made about daddy kinks), comma splice, atrocious metaphor and repetitive sentence structure galore. also no beta reader, and reader uses she/her pronouns and is afab.

Author’s Note: this is my first smut fic! i really appreciated all of the positive feedback that i got on my first fic (💚), so i thought i would do a smutty follow-up to it! if you haven’t read it and you’d like to, you can read it here. i tried my best to make this fic readable as a standalone oneshot though, so if you’d like to do that, that’s cool too! :) i think the only things new readers need to know are that Ezra’s nickname for the reader is Goose, and The Blue is a moon, like The Green, that Ezra, Cee and the reader traveled to in my last fic. also i reference the traffic light system a lot more in this fic than i have personally read in other fics, just because i feel like it’s a great way of checking in on your partner during sex. i know it might get a lil annoying after a while, but i think it’s important to keep it up. i also wanted to include it in my first fic bc even though i might not use it explicitly in my next fics, i want it to be understood that I think it’s super important to continue to check on your partner, etc. also i apologize if the smut isn’t “realistic”, as your writer is 100% a virgin skjfskdj💀 i don’t think that means that i don't know/can't learn how to write some smut though! however i would just keep that in mind💀, and i hope you enjoy it! :)🍀💜

p.s. i'd like to say thank you to @martinsmomo one more time for giving me the amazing request for my first fic! 💕

gif by @skyshipper

“Go to the bedroom, strip to your underwear and wait for me.”

The patch job of your relationship with Ezra on The Blue was a success. Spending an equal amount of time with him alone, alone with Cee and as a trio boosted your strength as a group. The awkward silences and argumentative expeditions around The Blue were no more, and were replaced with friendly banter and jovial hikes. You and Ezra had made up so much that you had started to express your affection for one another physically.

On every third day or so, Cee would go out on a trip alone, needing some time to herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t stand the two of you - although you and Ezra occasionally found joy in pushing her buttons - but she enjoyed doing activities by herself. It made her feel like she was fortifying her transition from teenager to young adult. You and Ezra couldn’t have agreed more and supported her independent decisions.

And on every third day or so, her absence from the pod allowed your courage to physically engage with Ezra to grow. The two of you had kept it to a minimum, not wanting Cee to notice any blushing cheeks or sweaty foreheads or panting chests when she would return. The majority of your time was spent just cuddling in positions that were a little too sexually charged to be considered platonic: a leg wound around a waist here, a hand gripping an ass there. The heaviest moment you had had was during a makeout session.

While lying down in Ezra’s makeshift bed and mingling tastebuds, you had hiked one of your legs up and over his hips. Soon after, you felt the tip of his cock poke the underside of your thigh. He couldn’t have been harder. You dared to relieve some of his pent up arousal while still maintaining some semblance of innocence and released your grip on his hair, slid your hand down his broad chest and slipped it underneath your leg to get to his erection. You held it and ran your fingers over the tip of it, then along its length, hoping to get a good idea of what your pussy would have to take on at some later time. The moment Ezra felt the light weight of your hand, he moaned deeply into your mouth. He had then broken your kiss and warned, “Goose, in all seriousness, you should highly consider concluding your investigation unless you want to throw me into a pit of agonizing embarrassment.”

You teased, his clothed cock still in hand, “Ezra, I think we should stick to swallowing each other’s tongues and not speaking in them.”

He had hummed in delight and grinned at you, then sighed, “Okay then, in your plebeian lingo: if you don’t stop rubbing my cock, I’ll cum in my pants.”

You both erupted in laughter, and you had snaked your hands back up his body and entangled them in his hair, taking his tongue in your mouth once again.

After your departure from The Blue, your gang had decided to stop on Puggart Bench and decompress for a while. Cee wanted to hang out with her friends before they all went their separate ways in their new adult lives, Ezra wanted to repay the loan he had taken out for his prosthetic arm and you wanted a real bed to sleep in. Not a pilot’s chair, not a bundle of blankets on a metal floor, but a real bed. With a mattress, a comforter, a nice set of sheets, a plethora of blankets and pillows. A two bedroom suite in Puggart Bench’s most prestigious hotel was what the three of you had booked for two months before another orbiting moon made its way into the Bakhroma System for the three of you to explore. Your group had engaged in some nice, familial-like activities, nourishing your found family dynamic.

You and Ezra had also spent quite a bit of time getting to know each other physically. While Cee would spend the day with her friends, you and Ezra never left your bed. Well, technically Ezra left the bed when he would stand, pull you to the very edge of it and subsequently use his newfound balance to pound into you with abandon. Your body hadn’t left the sheets, even when you knelt on the floor and took Ezra down your throat; your back pushed against the side of the mattress with every one of his thrusts.

Fast forward to the present day, and it is the last day you are on Puggart Bench before you leave for The Indigo, the new moon in town. Cee is spending the night at her friend’s house, where she will be having one last sleepover with all of the girls she won’t have the chance to connect with for an undetermined period of time. You feel guilty for looking forward to her leaving because you can only imagine what your bedroom will see of you and Ezra tonight.

While he washed your hair after a particularly exertive romp, Ezra had hinted that he had a kink that he wanted to try out with you. Without a definite return date from The Indigo, he offered that the two of you try it before you left for the moon, his desires getting the best of him. He never elaborated on what the kink is, as the both of you got entranced with washing the rest of your bodies. You plan on bringing it up tonight in the hopes of coming to a decision of whether or not you two have the patience to wait to test it out or not.

The two of you are now putting on a facade of patience as Cee packs her things in her room. You sit in between Ezra’s legs on the couch, back to his torso, both of you reading a different book. The text fails to retain your attention, so you place a finger on the page you are on and fold it over. You shift your head against Ezra’s chest to look up at him, pupils dilating immediately as they take him in. Black thick-rimmed reading glasses grace his face, the only indication in his rugged appearance that he would be a bookworm. He glances down from his book to meet your eyes, smiling at you. He brings his right hand down, brushing the back of the dark grey metal against your cheek. You smile back at him, and a naughty thought pops into your brain.

With your free hand, you find Ezra’s cock in an instant and palm it through his pants. His mouth drops in blissful surprise, but he’s quick to sit up and yank your hand away from his now hard dick. He snaps out a whisper, “Patience, Goose,” and places a light kiss to your temple. He gets up and walks away, afraid that you would just try to place your hand right back where it was. He was also afraid that he wouldn’t have the strength to stop you the next time.

Suitcase clips clap from Cee’s bedroom, and moments later she walks into the living room. You look up at her from the back of the couch: still pouting that Ezra shooed you away, and he looks up at her too, standing behind the kitchen counter: hiding his erection. You both fight through your mutual embarrassment and smile at her, noticing her excitement. She beams at the two of you, suitcase in hand, and raises her shoulders, “Well, I’m going to go now.”

She starts to walk to the door and Ezra follows her, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Have a good time, Sparrow. We’ll swing by and scoop you up tomorrow afternoon.”

Cee smiles up at him, “Will do.”

Ezra retracts his hand and puts both in his pockets, “We hate to bar you from seeing your friends and leading a more stable life, but we really do find solace in your company on our travels. It keeps us grounded, as much as one can be on an orbiting moon.”

She turns so that she faces both of you, “No, that’s okay. I really enjoy being with you guys. You’re like a family that I got to pick.”

Tears threaten to run down your cheeks as you get up and rush over to her to give her a tight hug. She returns your embrace and Ezra follows shortly behind, encasing both of you in his arms. He draws giggles from his girls by placing a kiss on each of your heads, and after a moment of relishing in your found family, you all release one another. Cee says her final goodbyes, opens the door and closes it behind her, giving you and Ezra one last final smile of departure.

You feel ashamed by the amount of heat that floods your genitals as soon as you hear the lock of the door click closed. Ezra, ever sensitive to your every mood change, pulls you in close and presses his forehead to yours, “You know we have to wait, Goose.” You nod, all too familiar with your routine once Cee left. You would wait and listen for her to walk down the hallway to the elevators, press the down button, wait for the doors to open, walk inside the chamber once it arrived, wait for the doors to close and finally start to descend to the ground floor. You did so out of respect for her; you and Ezra would never be able to forgive yourselves if she were to, for example, forget something and come back to find the two of you in the middle of some heated relations.

Ezra’s fingers massage your shoulder blades as you anticipate the sound of the elevator opening, fully aware that he was not only dissipating any nerves you have but spurring your arousal on as well. He knows that thoughts of his fingers traveling elsewhere swarm your brain as he alternates the pressure his fingertips give you. With this knowledge, unbeknownst to you, he’s thinking about what his first order for you will be tonight. Would he introduce the kink that he alluded to the other day? Does he just want a night of repeating your default, mind-blowing agenda? How would you feel about reversing roles, and have you be his dominant and him your submissive?

The ping of the elevator down the hall snaps him out of his trance. You eagerly await the whir of the elevator going down, and seconds later your wish is granted. Ezra lets go of you and steps back, eyes raking up and down your body twice before telling you, “Go to the bedroom, strip to your underwear and wait for me.” Such straightforward instructions to come from such an elaborate man. Ezra doesn’t waste a second in giving you seductive orders the moment he hears the elevator descending, his hunger to devour you reaching unbearable levels. With your appetite consisting of the same ferocity, you follow his instructions and go to your bedroom. Plopping onto the bed and laying on your back, you kick your shoes off, shimmy out of your pants and slide your shirt up and over your head, tossing the items to the chair in the corner of the room where you and Ezra kept your clothes. You found it humorous that he, like you, implemented the “chair of discarded clothing” into his life.

Now in just your underwear and socks (Ezra had relayed to you that it is statistically easier to orgasm while wearing socks), you reach over into the nightstand and pull out a necktie. You had been rewarded with such powerful orgasms at the hands of Ezra - literally - that you often couldn’t hold in your cries no matter how hard you tried. The necktie’s usual resting place was in between your teeth, tied around your mouth in an effort to muffle yourself out of courtesy of your neighbors. Ezra’s mouth remained ungagged; the neighbors must’ve thought that he was trying out some new rigorous exercise regime with all of those heaves, grunts and... moans? What sort of move would cause his headboard to repeatedly knock on the wall?

You sit and rub your thumbs on the buttersoft navy silk of the tie, patiently awaiting Ezra’s entrance into the room and later your cunt. A few moments later he comes in and shuts and locks the door behind him, an emergency precaution to protect the eyes of Cee or any intruding employee. He comes over and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. You glide over to him like a magnet and figure out a part of his kink after taking a quick glance into his hands, seeing that he’s holding rope. Black rope, to be exact, of varying lengths. He notices your quizzical brow and asks, “Spill your thoughts, Goose.” You gingerly reach out and touch the rope with your index finger, your vision moving in loops as you trace the coils. You look up and meet his eyes, those warm, curious, assuring windows to his soul that you love ever so dearly. You question, “Do you like to be tied up or do you want to tie me up?”

He displays a faint smile, “I’d find great satisfaction in tying you up. However, I would be a liar if I claimed that the thought of you restraining me and having your way with me never joyfully crossed my mind.”

You sit there in silence, taking in his desires. You are most definitely up for this, you just approach every new romp with hesitation. You hadn’t been a virgin the first time you slept with Ezra, but no one had ever made you feel so good. So open, exposed, on display, in all the right ways. You had been set ablaze by his confident maneuvers, calmed ever so coolly by his doting ministrations. He had drowned you in his passionate love, and you had loved every single fucking second of it. It just got a bit overwhelming at times, which he would take notice of and promptly give you your time and space when you needed it.

The rope intimidates you. It was smooth to the touch on the pad of your finger, but you could already imagine the uncomfortable burns it could give you. The tightness and thickness of the coils add to the fantasy of being completely immovable, but it also plants doubts in your mind. You voice your concerns to Ezra, “I’d love for you to tie me up, but I don’t think I’d like to start with rope.”

He cups your cheek lovingly, “Always one step ahead of me, Goose,” and picks up an end of the necktie in your lap. He rubs it with you, “I don’t want to start with the rope on you, either. I want us to work up to it.” He pats your cheek and holds up the rope in his hands, “I mean, it does look a little scary, doesn’t it?” Your newfound ease lets itself out of your lungs with a giggle, mirrored by Ezra. He turns and puts the rope on the seat at the foot of your bed, and you climb into his lap as he turns back around and cover his mouth with yours. Falling back onto the bed, his arms wrap around you like a snake and constrict you to his body. You grind your pussy onto his clothed torso, desperate for some friction, your soft moans tumbling down his throat.

He has to pull you away from his mouth by the back of your neck, “Let me take my clothes off, sweet girl.” He gives you a chaste kiss before you roll off of him and let him stand to strip. As he gets naked, you remove your panties in a flash, and he quizzes you, “Color system?”

“Green for when I’m enjoying it, yellow for when I’m being pushed to my limits, red for when I’ve reached my limit and need you to stop.”

“Good girl. What’s our safe word?”

“Magpie.”

“Excellent. Are you ready?” he asks as he pulls his underwear down and repeats your earlier action of throwing the discarded clothes onto the chair in the corner.

You nod fervently, “Yes sir.”

He sighs as he walks over to the edge of the bed and kneels, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Goose, you don’t have to call me that. I feel fulfilled enough in my domination with the heavenly noises your precious body emits.”

You shrug, “It’s just natural. It’s a good girl formality, Ez. Aren’t I a good girl?”

He raises an eyebrow as he hooks his hands behind your knees and pulls your legs over the bed so you’re sitting on the edge, “I don’t think good girls let their neediness get the best of them and just fondle cocks out in the open.” You let out a devious laugh, noting his reference to your sneak attack on the couch, and he takes the necktie from you. Your fingers run through his hair for a moment before he gently takes your wrists, smiling up at you.

He reaches up to kiss you, and after your lips part he mumbles against them, “I’m just going to tie your hands together now, okay?”

You nod, “Okay.”

He gives you another wholehearted kiss before sitting back on his feet, beginning to tie your wrists to one another. You admit, although it’s incredibly arousing to watch his thick fingers twirl the smooth fabric into a knot, you grow a little bit anxious at the loss of movement. He can read it on your face after he finishes the knot, “I want you to lay back while I eat you out. I tied your hands in front of you so that you can pinch me if you want me to stop but can’t find your words.” You nod, appreciating the simplicity of his instructions.

“I need you to use your words now, Goose.”

“Okay,” you reiterate, “Safe word is magpie. I can pinch you if I can’t say it.”

He nods, “Good girl,” and eases you onto your back. As he’s moving down your body to your core, something dawns on you, “Wait a minute.”

Ezra pauses and looks up at you with a caring expression, “What?”

“How am I supposed to stay quiet with the tie on my wrists and not in my mouth?”

He answers simplistically with a smirk, “Don't.”

You laugh, “What about the neighbors?”

“Fuck them. They should be grateful that tonight they will be an audience to one of the most beautiful symphonies that has ever been composed. And I’m not stepping foot off of this planet until I’ve heard my good girl’s clear, unabashed screams.”

A rush of hot air leaves your mouth, enticing Ezra to come back up and push it back into you with his tongue. A moment of clashing teeth later, he retreats back down to your core and lightly knocks your legs apart. You shift your gaze downward to find him admiring your cunt, his left hand capturing his dick and pumping it a few times. He leans forward, presses a kiss to your inner thigh and then runs his sharp nose over the spot, up your leg, across your hip and back down to your wetness and inhales deeply. You can’t help but laugh at his display of rapture, his sniffing audible. He threatens you in disbelief, “My indulgence amuses you, Goose?”

You meet his eyes with yours, twinkling with mischief, “Yeah, kind of.”

He puts his tongue in his cheek and shakes his head, “Goose, you are being a bit of a brat.” He pushes your knees to your chest, his hands on the backs of your thighs, keeping them in place, “And you should know by now how much I love taming my little brat.”

You are very aware of how much he enjoys brat taming, hence your acting up. His tongue licks a wide stripe up your core and a gasp escapes your mouth. He moans into you, sending vibrations through your cunt and shivers up your spine. He buries his tongue in you, his lips fornicating with your southern set, his fingers gripping your soft flesh tightly. Your anticipation of this moment has made your cunt oversensitive, so every little tickle of Ezra’s facial hair, every small movement of his warm tongue, every faint nudge of his nose and chin against your vulva makes you moan loudly. The pattern that his tongue is following suddenly picks up speed and your body involuntarily adjusts to it. Your hips buck up into his mouth, your clit weeping to be drenched in his saliva. Your tied hands lower until your fingertips are able to find his hair and intertwine with the thick brunette strands. The stability that gripping onto his hair gives you makes you hyperaware of just how close you are to cumming already. You whimper, “Ezra, please.”

This tone of your voice has been permanently ingrained in his mind thanks to your daily fucks over the past couple months. If the tightening of your hamstrings isn’t a large enough hint to him that you are close, your breathlessness is a blatant clue. He releases you from his mouth, lines of spit keeping the two of you connected, “That’s my girl, come on.” His egging on is more than you need to be shoved into your orgasm. As his tongue returns to lap at your clit, your neck arches up and your eyes roll into the back of your head. A groan rips through your throat that drowns out his muffled moans, his mouth working you through your orgasm. Your sharp intakes of air start to stagger out as your heart begins to calm down, your cunt pulsing with aftershocks. Ezra reluctantly removes his mouth from you, wetting your inner thigh with a line of his spit and your slick before pressing a kiss to the same spot he kissed earlier. The blackness of his pupils overtakes his chocolatey irises when he catches your eyes, dopamine flooding his nervous system.

He presents his wrist, does some math on an imaginary watch and jokes, “That must’ve been a record, Goose.” You giggle and pull your hands up to your mouth, trying to hide your embarrassed smile. He reaches up and pulls your hands back down to tangle your fingers in his cowlicks, “But my desire to drink pools of your cum has not yet been satiated.”

You swear under your breath as he dips his head back in between your legs, your voice catching in your throat when his hot breath cascades over your folds. This time, instead of licking stripes and lapping, he opts to draw shapes and trace circles against you. It sounds stupid, but man does it feel fucking good. Before you lose all self control, you give his scalp a massage, the best one you can muster with conjoined hands, as a way of telling him I love you. Simultaneously, he switches his tongue’s clockwise motion to counterclockwise and hooks his hands around the tops of your thighs, pulling you deeper into his mouth so he can devour you even more thoroughly than he already was. You brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead with your knuckles, seeing that his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed in concentration. He’s been moaning this entire time into you, blissfully lost in the heaven that is your pussy, and as his tongue picks up its pace the vocal vibrations boost your toward your release. You beg of him, “Please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop. In fact, he heightens your arousal one step further than you thought possible. He notes your utter wetness and decides to fill your wanting hole by snaking his left hand down to your entrance and slipping two fingers inside you. A heated orgasm pumps through your every artery just like Ezra’s fingers are pumping in and out of your cunt, his tongue keeping a delicious pace. After your body is done convulsing with pleasure, he moves up it and stops in front of your face.

“Open.”

You are all too familiar with this command and obey. Ezra spits a combination of your cum and his saliva into your mouth. He presses a hand to the underside of your jaw and you close your mouth.

“Swallow.”

You do as he says while he keeps his hand against your neck, feeling his love concoction make its way down your throat. He groans and gives you a quick kiss before asking, “Color?” You smile and bring your hands up to scratch at his scruff, “Green. You?”

“Green.”

Pulling your body tight against his, he hauls the two of you to the middle of the bed. He sits up and back atop your hips, pulls your hands closer to him and begins to untie your wrists. Your eyes can’t help but fixate on his hard dick, standing erect in front of you, as he speaks, “Now Goose, once you’re untied I want you to get on all fours for me,” he notices your distraction, “and if you try to pull any shenanigans, there will be consequences.” You shift your gaze up to his eyes and you swear that there’s a deep sparkle in them that is daring you, begging you, to disobey him. He liked to punish you as much as you liked to be punished by him. So, once untied, you throw him a curveball and take his orders, flipping over and propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You look over your shoulder at him to see that his face is mangled in baffled confusion, making you laugh, “What?”

He mounts your ass and teases your entrance with his cock, “If you had attempted to grab what your eyes were drooling over, I would’ve spanked you.”

“But I didn’t.”

He leans over your back and places his hands on either side of yours, “I wanted to spank you.”

“I know. But I’m not a naughty girl.”

He raises his eyebrows and chuffs out disbelief, “Maybe if you continue to tell yourself that delusion, you can convince yourself that it’s true. But there’s no fooling me. I know my girl is infatuated with misbehaving in order to spite me,” he stuffs his cock inside your pussy, “Isn't that true?” He lifts his left hand to wrap his fingers around the arched column of your throat, forcing you to look up at him.

You dismantle his lie, “I don’t do it to spite you, I do it to delight you.”

He pulls his hips away from yours in order to prepare for a thrust and hums, “That’s one reason why I love you, Goose. You see right through me.”

The two of you groan in unison as he fucks forward and bottoms out inside you. As he establishes a steady pace, your quivering fingers find purchase on his wrist. Even though you had slept together a countless number of times in the past two months, his girthy penetration still overwhelmed you at first, and you benefitted from at least a few seconds of adjusting. He knew this and was why he untied you; his brutal rhythm coupled with the binding of the tie would be too much for you without a little warming up. While he’s stretching you out, he murmurs encouragements into your hair, “That’s it, just like that... You’re taking my cock so well... Good girl.”

After your muscles relax, he asks, “Color?”

“Couldn’t be greener. You?”

He grins at your response, “Green.”

He gives your cheek a kiss before proposing his next instruction, “Why don’t you be a good girl and lay down and put your arms behind your back?”

He pauses his thrusts as you lean forward and press your cheek against the sheets. You turn to ask him just how he wants you to move, and he reads your mind, “Touch the pits of your elbows.” You twist your forearms behind your back until they are pressed against each other and the tips of one hand’s fingers graze the opposite side’s elbow. He snakes the silky tie in between your spine and wrists, the fabric gliding easily over your sweaty skin. He ties your wrists together again, this time much looser than before. He color checks you when he finishes the knot. You wiggle your arms, the amount of resistance being just right, “Green.” He hums in enjoyment and runs his fingertips down the backs of your arms, sending a pleasant shudder through you.

Lining himself up, he places a steadying right hand on your lower back. The contrast of the cool metal of his prosthetic limb to the fire that barrels through you once he pushes himself back into your hole is divine. Both textures of his hands slip against your skin as they try to find a solid grip on your hips in order to allow him to begin pounding into you. Your whimpering spurs him on, and once he’s able to to lock you into place you both swear under your breath in anticipation. As he embarks on his ferocious rhythm, an orgasm takes you by surprise.

Well, not really by surprise, because Ezra has proven time and time again that he can coax you to cum at a moment’s notice.

Out of courteous instinct, you bury your face into the bed to muffle your cries of ecstasy. Ezra turns your face to the side and tuts, “Uh-uh, Goose, I need to hear you this time, remember?”

You can barely him him, let alone understand him, while an astronomical burst of white oxytocin smothers your poor body. Unable to gain control of your composure to stop yourself, you indulge Ezra and let your screams fill the bedroom. The numbness of your mind fades away, effects of your orgasm bringing feeling back to you: the hot tears that spot your bottom lashline, the sweet soreness that the tensing of your muscles left you, the sweat that gathers in the line of your spine, the aroused slick that coats your inner thighs.

You pant as Ezra unties you, “Good girl. Flip over and face me,” and he tenderly places your forearms to your sides.

You’re exhausted. You can most definitely take more of his loving, but you need him to do the work, “I can’t.”

He rolls you over onto your back, his muscular arms giving you the comfort you need to go on. A frantic, worried expression takes over his face, “You okay? Still green? I didn’t push you too far, did I? Was the tie too tight? Did I-”

You shut him up with a kiss. You reassure him, “Yes, still green. Just fucking tired.”

You both laugh, and he asks, “Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head no, “I’m not sure if the neighbors heard all of that scream. I think they need another one.”

Your dirty talk contorts his mouth into a grin of sly allure as he gets up off the bed, “I concur.” He opens a drawer of the nightstand and takes out another necktie, this one made of black wool. He gets back on the bed and says, “Let’s give them a musical to remember.”

You snicker as he pushes both of you farther up the bed, giving you more room to mess about in. He places the second tie next to the blue one and a hand on each of your ankles, “What this next position requires in flexibility it will pay for infinitely in pleasure for you and I both, okay, Goose?”

Your wariness is excited, “Okay?”

He pulls your legs together and picks up the blue tie. He wraps the fabric around both ankles, beginning to tie them together, but pauses and interjects, meeting your eyes, “You’re okay with me tying you here, right?”

You smile at his concern and mock, “Ezra, you could tie me any way you’d like and I’ll be more than happy.”

His nose crinkles in satisfaction and he resumes tying you up. After he’s done, he pushes your thighs to your chest, bending your knees so your feet are in the air. You can’t stop the laughter that erupts from you, “Ez, what in the Bakhroma System are you scheming?”

He gives you a wickedly teasing laugh back, “A fun time, Goose.”

He momentarily cups your face with his left hand, “If at any point it gets too much, for whatever reason, just say the word and I’ll stop everything.”

You take his hand and kiss his palm, “Okay.”

He smiles, boops your nose with his thumb and pulls your arms so that they rest in the pit of your upside down knees. He picks up the black tie and does a different knot on your arms than he had done previously. He puts the binding on them higher up, which makes you hold your legs up, keeping your cunt on display for him. The wool of the tie scratches where the silk had soothed you, but you savor the friction. Ezra wastes no time in entering you again, plunging his cock deep into your fluttering walls. You brace your forehead against your shins, panting wildly. With every thrust, he hits something deep and sensitive in you, but you know you could make the experience more intense for the both of you.

“Ez?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you look at me?” He angles himself so he can look around your legs and meet your eyes. As you are projected into the depths of his eyes, engulfed by the lust-blown ink of his pupils, enhanced by the dark coffee that surrounds them, an “I love you” slips out of your lips.

He compresses your body further by leaning down and capturing your mouth, “I love you too.”

When he pulls back and his hands find the backs of your thighs, he asks for a color check. You answer green, giving him permission to ravage you. He does just that, putting every ounce of his might behind his thrusts, eliciting growls of the same magnitude from you both. The gradual construction of an orgasm starts to warm your body, your moans getting louder and louder with each passing second. In an effort to put it off, you bite down hard on your lip. Ezra notices, running a thumb across your lipline, “Goose, please, allow me to be privy to your every stuttered breath.”

“Every gasp of delighted surprise.”

“Every involuntary whimper.”

“Every lustful yelp.”

“Every plea for me to keep going.”

“Every unhinged beg.”

“Every feral scream that only I can rouse out of those magnificent lungs. Indulge my deranged wish and let me hear it all, Goose.”

His words whisk you onto an expressive whirlwind of slow-building passion. You close your eyes and watch as your orgasm transforms from a cozy snuggle to a captivating explosion; behind your eyelids, amorous red transitions to a lustful magenta. It lightens to a flirtatious and giggly bubblegum, intensifying to a vibrating, barely-there pink. Then, all at once, buckets of slumberous evergreen, pure Ezra energy, submerge you into your release. Any bit of any other color is eradicated as he pours his soul onto yours. Descending from your chameleonic trance, you open your eyes to meet his. He can see that he has torn you apart in a most satiating way, which catapults him to his peak. He pulls out of you and pumps his cum onto the backside of your thighs, his heart collapsing with joy. He smears his stickiness across both of your hamstrings and then quickly gets to work to release you from his necktie binds. The bind that he has made of your heart to his, though, is infinitely knotted, forever unbreakable.

Your limbs untangle themselves and fall to the bed, every cell in your body pooped from the session. He asks for a final time, “Color?”

You sigh, “Green. You?”

He smiles, “Green.”

He brushes the now cum-stained ties to the side and pats your stomach, stamping a handprint of his seed, “I’ll be right back, Goose.” You nod once and he gets up and exits the room, leaving the door ajar.

You flip onto your stomach, your muscles yearning for a change of position after getting pummeled into the mattress. You bend your arms to lay in front of you, elbows sighing in relief for being contracted instead of stretched. You close your eyes and rest your head on his pillow for what seems like a millisecond, but when you open them back up Ezra has returned with two glasses of water, a washcloth and a juice box.

He folds the cloth into a triangle, dips a corner into a glass and then brings it behind you. The icy water feels good on your overheated skin as he wipes away his cum before it has the chance to dry. Once he cleans you off, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to your depleted frame. He sets the cloth down and picks up the other glass of water, “Drink this, sweetheart.” You prop yourself up on your forearms and gulp some much needed fluids down as Ezra holds the glass steady against your mouth. You hold up a weak hand when you’ve had your fill and he finishes off the drink. You never thought you would find sharing a drink like this with someone stomachable, let alone wildly attractive. But Ezra had changed you; you wanted to exchange cells, germs, bodily fluids with him, no matter how nasty it sounded when put into words.

Ezra trades the glass for the juice box and pops the straw into the opening, holding it up to your lips, “Drink some.” You curiously eye the juice box: apple flavored, the carton decorated in bright and childish cartoons. You tease him, “You know, when I said I might have a daddy kink, this is not what I meant.”

You both laugh, and he pokes after a moment, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

As you take the straw into your mouth and drink, he places a hand on the back of your head and pets your hair, “That’s it, babygirl, do as Daddy says.” An air of laughter blows through your nose and you choke on the liquid as Ezra cackles. You drop the straw and cough, “Stop!”

He continues to laugh at you while you whine, “Why do I have to drink this anyways, can’t I just have water?”

He calms himself down and shakes his head, “No, I want to replenish your blood sugar. Otherwise you might feel faint, and not in a good way.” He shoots you a wink and you take another sip of the juice.

When you’re done, he puts the half-empty box back on the nightstand and lays on top of you. You joke, “You’re crushing me and you told me I have to pee right after.”

Since sleeping together, Ezra had realized how little knowledge of aftercare you had. He had advised you to go to the bathroom as soon as possible after the deed is done in order to avoid urinary tract infections, among other pains. He nuzzles into your shoulder and protests, “In a minute.”

Taking into account the history of his comment and your increasingly heavy eyelids, you rebut, “You know that never happens.” More often than not, when Ezra trapped you in a cage of cuddles directly afterward like this, the two of you would fall asleep and you would skip the trip to the bathroom. He grunts and moves his weight off of you, “Fine, but I’ll only let you go if I can carry you in there.” You barely have time to begin laughing before he’s swooping you up into his arms.

After you both use your respective time in the bathroom, you and Ezra dress in matching pajamas and climb into bed. Coddling you into his broad chest, his fingers dance on the back of your neck and your lower back. You turn your head up to face him and when he returns your gaze you reference the whole night, “Thank you.”

A smile crinkles his tired eyes, “The pleasure was all mine, Goose. Thank you for taking it all so well. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Only if you will too.”

“Sure thing, my love.”

He gives you a kiss before you retreat back into the sanctuary of his embrace. Right as you’re drifting off to sleep, he adds, “I would like to ravage you one more time, in the morning.”

Your smirk pulls at the fabric of his shirt, “Okay. But no daddy kink. We have to save some things to explore when we come back.”

He hums, pressing his cheek into the top of your head before the two of you succumb to the temptation of sleep, “As you wish.”

💘taglist: @pascalpanic

#ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x f!reader #ezra smut #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra x fem!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #prospect 2018

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scraregenrecs · 4 years

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Rec Roundup – February 2021 #1

Welcome to our first rec roundup for February 2021! Below is a collection of fics that feature different pairings and characters that could all use a little extra love. There's an assortment of platonic, gen, and romantic fics, and the content ranges from fluffy to sexy to angsty and everywhere in between.

Note that because @scseason7 is actively posting right now and the fics from that fest are currently anon, we will be waiting until the end of the month to rec fics from the fest so that we can properly credit the authors for their work.

Without further ado, check out this installment's fics! Don't forget to kudos and comment if you enjoy what you see!

Broken Trust by @ladyflowdi, The Roses, M, 5773 words Summary: Time is an adult’s construct, so it may be the beginning of autumn, or October, or maybe December, when David gets sick. Rec [written by yourbuttervoicedbeau]: I’ll start this off by reiterating the author’s note to make sure you read the tags before diving into this fic, but it is ABSOLUTELY worth it. Young David’s narrative voice is wonderfully done, and the story is told with care and beauty.

hold you close (and won't let go) by @languageoflove, Stevie/Ruth, T, 576 works Summary: Stevie has a rough day, so Ruth does what any good girlfriend would and comforts her, but the tables end up turning. Rec [written by doingthemost]: This is a cute look at a quiet moment in Stevie and Ruth's relationship. I like when fics don't shy away from exploring the not-so-happy moments in relationships, both romantic and platonic, and show us how different people come together to resolve disagreements.

I'm a Hieroglyphic, I'm an Open Book by @lilythesilly, Alexis/Twyla, G, 1442 words Summary: Alexis is leaving in a week. She’s moving to New York to be a girl boss and everything she’s ever wanted. But she told Twyla that she loves music. Rec [written by doingthemost]: This is such a fun first entry into the Twylexis fandom! Not only does it have sweetness in spades, it also spends some time exploring Patrick and Twyla's friendship (another rare pair in itself!). This fic fits neatly into the world of canon and could easily have played out on our screens.

The Inn at Clear Lake by @patrickredactedbrewer tedbrewer, Patrick & Rachel, T, 693 words Rec [written by doingthemost]: Please check the tags before you read the summary or fic! That said, this is a frank and affecting look at something that can be difficult to explore and read. If you've been affected by this, whether directly or indirectly, it may be as cathartic for you as it was for me.

Just to Have You Once Again, by @fairmanor, Clint/Marcy, G, 6765 words Summary: Marcy and Clint's love story, as interpreted by [fairmanor]. Rec [written by samwhambam]: LISTEN UP FRIENDS. This fic is PERFECTION. It has everything, a bit of a slow burn, enemies to lovers. PEOPLE WHO ARE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER. When reading it, you forget that the Brewers only had 10 minutes of screen time. You get such a strong sense of them and who they are, and you really fall in love with them. I love it so much and have reread it multiple times.

A Little Less Alone by @neelyo67, Ronnie & Moira, G, 941 words Summary: When Ronnie needs a place to spend the night Moira invites her to stay at the motel. It's a platonic slumber party!!!! Rec [written by yourbuttervoicedbeau]: This is one of those ‘I never knew I needed this until I had it’ fics. Moira’s voice is PERFECTION, and Ronnie’s particular flavour of slightly reluctant love for Moira from canon really shines through here.

She’s all over me by @samwhambam, Stevie/Twyla, E, 3840 words Summary: Stevie invites Twyla over for ~fun times~. Part 2 of the "Stevie runs into Twyla at Jake's massage circle" fic. Rec [written by yourbuttervoicedbeau]: I recommended part one of this series last time and WHOO BOY does part two live up to its predecessor. This series continues to be tender, realistically awkward, and above all hot as hell.

Something to Celebrate, by @agoodpersonrose, Stevie & Ronnie and Stevie/Twyla (background), Gen, 1150 words Summary: “This is something to celebrate, you know?” she says firmly, running her fingers through the condensation on her beer. “This isn’t a time to regret all the time you've wasted, or to look back and question everything, and believe me, I’ve been through enough of that for a lifetime. This is your opportunity to look forward, and to get excited for everything still to come.” Rec [written by samwhambam]: Stevie and Ronnie friendship vibes??? Yes please. I love this glimpse into their friendship, especially at a time when Stevie’s really coming into her sexuality. Ronnie is the friend that’s encouraging, but unafraid to call you out on your shit, and I’m so glad that this was added as a part 2 to their fic “A Budding Romance.” It’s a great little glimpse into the world where you learn a lot about a character (Stevie) by seeing her interact with someone who isn’t the main love interest. So so good. Highly recommend.

we'll get together then, dad by @alamborghini, Alexis & Johnny, David & Johnny, T, 1000 words Summary: When Alexis comes out to Johnny, he does some reflecting about his two children. Rec [written by yourbuttervoicedbeau]: This is one of those fics that, as an author, is so well done I’m actually kind of mad about it — but as a reader is just something to be devoured over and over. I am a sucker for anything and everything in the Queer Feelings tag, and this is a WONDERFUL addition to that tag. Johnny’s POV is rare, but it’s so well done here.

Witches Brewer, by @vivianblakesunrisebay, Marcy, Clint/Marcy, G, 6563 words Summary: In the Brewer family, Patrick isn’t the only one with a secret. Rec [written by samwhambam]: I think it’s pretty obvious how much I LOVE the Brewers. And I love AUs, especially witchy AUs. So put those together? Perfection. Absolute perfection. You can’t convince me that Marcy isn’t a kitchen witch. The writer takes you on a journey as Marcy learns magic and the trials and tribulations that come with it. It is so well written, and has the sweetest ending/last little bit that has you wanting to wrap Marcy up in a hug, because she just loves her son so much. So good.

Happy reading, friends!

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gregkatepetegowest · 3 years

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A Night In Boise

The ride from Chiloquin to Gardiner, MT (12 min outside Yellowstone’s north entrance) was 14.5 hours, so we decided to split the drive into three days, spending two nights in Idaho on the way.

For our first night, we decided to stay in Boise, ID. Our friend Sean (hi, Sean + Meekah!) is from Idaho so he had the inside scoop on fun, eats, drinks, etc.

We hadn’t booked anything prior and figured we would use the Hotel Tonight app with no problem. Soon into our drive from Oregon, we realized two things: 1. Boise is HOT IN THE STREETS right now and 2. We had little to no cell service between Chiloquin and Boise to book a place. Room rates (that accepted dogs) were in the $350+ range and neither of us could fathom that price for one night in Idaho (we love Idaho and we love you, Sean).

Luckily, Pete ended up calling the Cabana Inn when we were 30 minutes outside of Boise and they had an open room for somewhere in the range of $120/night (including pet fee)! We knew the Cabana Inn was extremely close to downtown Boise and since we were there for only one night, we figured we would survive. We did not read anything reviews prior to booking because we had no internet.

Once I finally had reliable cell service (Pete was driving at the time), I read some reviews and kept them to myself for Pete’s sanity and the jeopardy of our future marriage. Let’s just say the reviews were not great. In the end, it wasn’t that bad. There may have been some sketchy characters hanging around the hotel (motel) at all hours and maybe a few guests were living there full-time, but no one bothered us and the room seemed reasonably clean enough for one night.

ANYWAY, naturally, our room wasn’t ready when we arrived even though it was 1.5 hours past check in time, so we ended up taking Greg for a short (it was 90 degrees out) walk in a really cool nearby park called, Julia Davis Park. Sean had told us about rafting down the Boise River and we witnessed some peeps doing this first hand and were soooo jealous. This is my kind of “rafting” for sure AKA super mellow because your girl doesn’t prefer to go in water over her head.

It was getting close to dinnertime when we eventually made it to our room. Because of the heat, we left Greg behind to guard our clothing and belongings while we ventured out in search of good food and drink. I was only a short walk to downtown area from the Cabana Inn. Since we only had one night we decided to bounce around for a bit with the end goal of grabbing Greg around 9 pm and walking across the street to a bicycle bar that allowed dogs. We first hit Bardenay Restaurant & Distillery per Sean’s recommendation. The cocktails did not disappoint. Pete had a fancy bloody mary that had pickled tomatoes! We shared some spicy shrimp skewers with the intent to head somewhere else and then… A DUST STORM WARNING. We received the warning via an iPhone emergency alert. This had Pete somewhat rattled. Neither of us had encountered a true dust storm and we were picturing a giant dust wall as depicted in The Mummy circa 1999. We watched the storm for a bit and then made a run for a small tavern/sports bar two blocks away. It was windy with a little dust in the air, but disappointing after all the hype. We snagged the last two bar seats inside and actually witnessed a patron outside get a dust particle in her eye!

After the tavern, we hurried back to the Cabana to make sure someone hadn’t stolen Greg. Luckily, Greg was safe and asleep per usual. We proceeded to the bicycle bar. The bar was sooo cool. Very hip and Brooklyn-ish. We each had a drink and then got a few to-go beers for the cooler per the bartender’s recommendation.

Boise is a very cool town and we would both go back in a heartbeat. Greg is only willing to return in the early spring or fall when it cools down a bit.

#roadtrip #roadtrippin #boiseidaho

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fructuyeux · 3 years

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CANADA-20 (xxx) COVID-19

3/13/2020 - 3/22/2020

By: Rayce R. Rayos

This undertaking was planned as a daringly creative escape from mounting internally & externally placed workloads, & was slated to take place during the UNLV 2020 Spring Break. In concurrence with the vacation was the ever-increasing, ever-diversifying socioeconomic fallout, mandates, & obstacles associated with the first global pandemic that I have experienced in my lifetime. I’d be remiss to not admit that the cheapened airline, lodging, & transportation prices were viewed as a silver lining in an otherwise hysteric & strange time in human history. The following account of the trip is intended to recount the experiences & knowledge gained (from what is remembered), and aid in the recollection of the associated photo-documentation conducted during.

DAY 1 - 3/14 - 7.5 miles

The outgoing flight 1224 from McCarran International Airport to the eventual destination of Niagara Falls, New York was delayed, unbeknownst to me, & so the trip began with a frantic drive to the airport with a hastened goodbye to my roommate & lovely daughter (who wanted dearly to join her father in Canada). The flight was delayed by an hour, & I made it on the plane.

A quick stop in Denver, CO was followed by a landing in Fort Lauderdale, FL. Upon landing, the Spirit Airlines attendant notified me that my flight to Niagara Falls had already left (to the complete fault of their flight coordination), & that I’d have to spend the night & following day in Broward County, 15 miles North of Miami. I was frazzled & upset to have started my trip with such a complication, but after the airline was able to change my ticket free of charge, I decided to extend my trip an extra day. So, I asked them to book my returning flight for a day later (3/20 → 3/21), to which they agreed to do for free, utilizing a COVID-19 flight disruption program. I booked a room at the Vacation Inn in the middle of the night, & recalibrated my trip schedule.

The following morning was a beautiful sunny day in South Florida, & after resting my luggage at the motel for the day (for a fee), I skateboarded to SE 17th Street, hung a right, & breezed through a few miles of million-dollar homes & yachts, over the Causeway Bridge, to what would eventually become Fort Lauderdale Beach Park. Full of families & largely free of fear, the beach was warm, sunlit, & vivacious. The locals were out in near-full effect, & I spent the entire day with the rays on my back, the water at my waist, & a respite of relaxation before ensuing madness. I even struck up a conversation with some fellow beachgoers as a result of my Kobe Bryant tattoo, & learned a good deal about quotidian life down there. I got a workout in on the beach equipment, & some peaceful serenity as I stared down the horizon beyond the Atlantic. I returned to my motel to acquire my bags & make my way to the airport en route to New York… Little did I know that a bar, Bimini Bay to be exact, neighbored my motel. I found myself entrenched in an environment eerily similar to that of the Huntridge Tavern, although this spot was half the size with raunchy anal porn playing on multiple screens throughout all of the 5 walls. Throwing brews back & chain-smoking with the locals to country music was a familiar feeling, & instilled in me further the universal nature of letting loose. That being said, I lost track of time & had to hightail it out of there via a gentleman’s Uber to the airport. Another flight ran after & barely boarded in the nick of time… My time in South Florida was as serendipitous as flight disruptions can be. The most lingering aspect of my time spent there was, indubitably, the sunburn that would come to stick with/on me for the remainder of the vacation. Perhaps the worst case of the sun’s kiss I’ve come to bare. Before fully coming to this realization, I’m on a plane to New York.

DAY 2 - 3/15 - 10.47 miles

Upon being alive on arrival in New York state at 2 AM in the morning, I resolved to sleep in the IAG airport for the night, especially considering my phone charger at the time had been severely out of whack. There I lay, curled on an airport bench in Niagara Falls for the night with blistering skin & a scent of fresh tobacco smoke (& ass). I distinctly recall wrestling with the time I should render myself awake, eventually settling upon 9:30 AM. It was at this time that I found myself the only visible individual in the airport terminal; no staff, no bags, no patrons, nothing. The unexpected isolation harkened memories of the film 28 Days Later. Once the drool was free from my chin, I hailed a Lyft to the American-Canadian border, specifically the entrance to the Rainbow Bridge; it was along this ride that my driver informed me that the American dollar was fairly strong against the Canadian dollar to the tune of 1 USD = 1.33 CAD (roughly). This would come to be an extremely welcomed caveat to the remainder of the trip, as most every purchase converted to about 75% of all prices quoted in Canada.

When the border was reached, there I stood as a man with his spirit & belongings intact, & began my trek over the bridge to a foreign land. With frequent pause, the majesty of the falling water on a brisk Spring day will play in my mind for years to come. Pictures were taken, deep thought was attempted, & it was a stark moment of gratefulness for the life I have been given. Next was passing through Canadian Customs at the north end of the bridge, & after being grilled for a moment as to my intentions for entering, the officer pointed me in the direction of the bus stop from which my Greyhound was leaving in less than an hour. From the Rainbow Bridge to the Whistleblower bridge 2.5 miles north, I was blessed with a walk of forced clarity as I hugged Niagara’s riverway with 75+ pounds of much needed possessions. I found myself doubting my ability to invite others with me on trips in the future out of a fear for unintentionally inflicting similar tasks upon them. Nevertheless, I made it to my Greyhound in time and rested on the ride to Toronto.

The recuperation was much needed. When I awoke I found myself in Canada’s largest city (& the 9th-largest in North America), Toronto, Ontario. Excitement coursed through my capillaries & once departing from the bus on foot, it was straight to my ‘Chinatown Guest House’ to set down my things & get on the go… this was not the case. A whole fiasco followed where I was unable to contact the host, thereby unable to access the place I had paid to stay for the night (& the night before, despite Spirit having different plans on DAY 1). The first two Torontonian hours were spent in a Chinatown chicken spot (Gdou’s) where I struggled to gain the cellular abilities necessary to overcome this debacle; I bought a new charger & charger port at the market center across Spadina. I grappled with frustration in a very real sense, but was utterly appeased to find that I had been sent an email containing the entry instructions from Booking.com. Relief rushed over me. I grabbed my bags, & hunkered down in a room with a wooden balcony & stunning view of Downtown Toronto to boot. I showered, shat, & escaped into the city heading South on Spadina. A brief stop at the famed ‘Graffiti Alley’ along with a trip to the marijuana grocer located me in the heart of the Fashion District, a sector largely reminiscent of Williamsburg, BK (as hip, although much smaller). After a lovely skate to the harbourfront I was able to catch the sun set behind a vast array of monolithic condos & headquarters. The sun was able to get quite low, however, after having nestled between two skyscrapers, & that shared scene on the pier between myself & just a handful of individuals was quite a sight. Heading south afterwards, I rolled by the Toronto Music Gardens, through Coronation Park, & through a series of railway tracks amidst arenas (BMO Arena), Centennial Park, Lakeshore Boulevard, & an array educational campuses. Once Dufferin Street was reached, I headed toward Little Portugal. On the way there I stopped short (per the advice of a local) & turned north up King Street. Halfway home I stopped at the restaurant Thai Place Too & enjoyed some steaming seafood Tom Yum fit with stimulating conversation from the waitress. I paid my bill, thanked those there, & pushed onward on King Street traversing a barrage of tunnels, city folk, & shopping centers. At this juncture I recall being bummed by the lack of nighttime activities, & decided to stop at a bar near my place for the night called Wide Open.

What was to begin & end as a night of the all-evasive ‘one brew’ quickly accelerated into a merry time of mutual drunkenness & fun. A couple dental hygienists befriended me at the bar, & not far to follow were a West Indian techy working for Google & an Irishwoman on her way out of town. My memories of what exactly transpired are quite shaky, but an unflinching enjoyment of that particular night at the bar lasts. I got home at an ungodly hour & crash-land in my bed.

DAY 3 - 3/16 - 7.53 miles

Similar to popping out of bed due to a frightening nightmare, “Where’s my fucking board?!” was the thought & simultaneous phrase that opened my eyes that morning. I was still drunk, so a hangover wasn’t an issue, but discovered a damn large lump on my right posterior parietal bone & a pool of blood in the sheets where I slumbered. I racked what was left of my brain as to where/how/why this injury came to be sustained, but to no avail. In hindsight, it’s consistent with braceless backwards fall, & vaguely recall attempting to ride my skateboard back home equipped with a BAC of full-blown ‘no bueno’. Nevertheless, the pain wasn’t of serious concern (although I had plenty of time to reflect on the very real possibility of me now having to operate in a concussed state). What was of concern was my skateboard, my iPod, & my eighth of weed that I had yet to dip into. I began retracing my steps and was welcomed with open arms by my beautiful black, four-wheeled bride waiting for me at the front doorstep- Check 1. I scooped up my board, got dressed & readied for the (likely music-less) day ahead, had a solid conversation with my father, & cleared my stuff from the house just in time to be 4 hours late for checkout.

In one of the more daring tactics employed on the trip, I stashed my big purple duffle bag (containing clothes & other non-essentials) & my backpack (containing my laptop, passport & other very-essentials) in the empty garbage bin to the side of the front door. This was a huge gamble, & one that would weigh somewhat on my conscience for the coming hours, despite heavy medication- re-upped on weed, Check 2. During my second trip to Graffiti Alley I encountered a bum in mid-tweak repeatedly pulling his pants up & down amidst a backdrop of beautiful art, & naturally this struck me as microcosmic of the whole of Toronto. The bar I had chanced upon the night prior didn’t resume service until 4 in the evening, & so I had a few hours to kill which were spent speaking with various loved ones & contemplating last night’s events as I bobbed & weaved a hangover. 4 o’clock rolls around & I walk into the bar greeted by a smiling bartender with an unclaimed red iPod. THIS WAS A PERSONAL WIN OF GREAT PROPORTIONS, & solidified my successful navigation through mindless debauchery abroad- Check 3. I felt the proverbial wind was once again behind my back, & opted to knock out the city’s landmarks North of Spadina Avenue, largely via Adelaide & King Streets until Yonge.

Post-modern magnificence a la architecture kept my chin up as I managed to dodge pedestrian after pothole after Porsche. Sundown was not far off & the gleaming beams reflected softly off the mirrored panels some seventy-five plus stories on all sides. A real embodiment of the term ‘hustle & bustle’ was laid out in front of me, complete with a citizenry whose diversity mimicked that of my own home a world away. The gritty attitude that I’ve come to associate with East coast cities (specifically the colder ones) was alive & well here, evidenced in reluctance to help guide tourists or even tell the time of day. I loved it, & judged it as genuine more so than anything else. It should also be noted that the music playing in my ears throughout my time in the ‘Six’ was exclusive to the stylings of Drake, a rapper native of the city with references to its contents (streets, sides of town where the pretty girls sleep, subpopulations, parks, etc.) found abundantly in his lyrics.

When Yonge was reached, I peered west to a ton of things going on, but elected to go east. This turned out to be a wise decision. After a few blocks I was greeted by the area of town most closely associated with the Toronto skyline & its historical foundations on the illustrious Front Street. Here is where I stood mouth agape with the enormity & incomprehensible complexity of the city on full view. I touched the base of the CN tower & spent a good amount of time in awe as it registered (despite the Stratosphere being superior in my eyes), traversed the Railway museum set just outside of Olympic Park, gazed upon the Rogers Center where the Blue Jays come to bat, & ended at the water of Lake Ontario at the sandy Harbour Square Park where some solid skating took place. After some time, the thought of my possessions having lasted (or not) in the trash receptacle all this time prompted me to retrieve them, & so back to Chinatown I booked it. The moment of truth arrived when I got off my board at 83 W. Sullivan Street, & lo & behold, my stuff was nestled just as I had left it some 5 hours before. Feeling giddy from the travel-savvy risks taken, I was on to grab dinner with an old colleague of mine who happened to be doing her post-baccalaureate studies there. T. & I, a former classmate at Valley High, met at what we would come to find as nothing more than another closed restaurant with a COVID-19 newsletter plastered on the door. We deliberated playfully on what we should now do, & after having happened upon the ‘T O R O N T O’ sign & all of its illuminated glory, a 6-pack of Stella Artois from the rather hidden LCBO in the mega-commercial Eaton Center became the night’s main entree. Polite exchanges with exceedingly conversational locals made for a nice segue as we awaited our second Lyft ride to the Harbourfront.

The Harbourfront Centre was largely uncrowded as temperatures dipped below zero (Celsius, of course), & after a brew-cigarette combo, it was in an instance that snow began falling from the blackened sky & onto everything in sight… including our unsheltered selves. It was as surprising as it was splendid (at least for a desert cactus like me) to have been outdoors somewhere prior to snowfall & then to behold its beginning. A few days prior, I had been notified that the ski lift an hour North of Ottawa whose mountain I intended to shred had been closed, & so, I found myself with a decision to make: stay in the Toronto area an extra night or board the bus I had booked & crashing in a twin-sized bus seat for the night & do who knows what in Ottawa… Motivated by the phrase, “What the hell are you going to do in Ottawa?” I chose the former & began searching for a nearby hotel room. My homegirl, sitting beside me, of course overheard, & more-than-kindly offered a guest room in her condo as a suitable place to rest my head for the evening. I accepted, & we whisked ourselves out of the snow to a 12th-story condo in the 95+% Chinese suburb of Markham, ON. An once-schoolmate was changed into a dear friend after having exhibited flawless hospitality in the form of whiskey, toast, toothpaste, a bed & sublime conversation. We jabbed & joked in Francais (with hers being superior to my own), & this was a much-needed introduction to everyday dialogue in the different tongue of the Quebecois whom I would spend most of the days to follow with.

DAY 4 - 3/17 - 4.38 miles

I awoke early in the morning after not being able to sleep too much due to my skin’s incessant irritation, as well as a pseudo-insomnia I’ve come to expect from myself when on vacation. To fill the time between my awakening & my host’s, I read as much of The Four Agreements, by Don Miguel Ruiz as I could retain, ending with the last chapter left unread. As a result, the mantras prompted by the book that one is to agree with from within his/herself resonated with me. They are ‘be impeccable with your word,’ ‘don’t take anything personally,’ ‘don’t make any assumptions,’ & ‘always do your best.’ Fondly, I looked to these statements as a source of my second wind around this time, as the physical toll of my endeavors began somewhat to present themselves.

When T awoke, we engaged in parley for another hour or so before trudging to the neighborhood bus/rail station where she purchased my ticket & we ran goofily to make the train before the doors swiftly shut. During the train ride back to Downtown Toronto I was able to sit quietly in my thoughts, as well as get some business dealings out of the way via phone. The walls flanking the tracks were riddled in graffiti of both very high- & very low-quality pieces on fleeting displays. We were headed to Union Station, the hub for all non-automobile commutes in the metropolitan area, & second-largest transportation facility in North America, servicing some seventy-two million humans yearly. A stunning structure of Greco-Roman design with pristine pillars, it was a treat to walk the halls of such an obviously integral establishment. Soon we said our brief farewell & parted ways so that she could go to school & I could purchase a rail ticket to Ottawa, ON- set to leave later in the day.

I purchased my rail ticket to Ottawa for 6:30 PM & stashed my luggage at the bagging station inside the terminal, leaving me with 3 ½ hours to get the last of my rocks off in a city unique to itself. I went straight for Yonge-Dundas square after having caught a glimpse of the scene days prior, & once in the center I felt a likening to Times Square, both personally & perceivably. There was no better wayward idea at the time than to bust off some skate tricks in the center of such commotion, & was able to have a solid 15-20 minutes on the board before security (much like their American counterparts) gave me the good ol’ boot. Onto St. Lawrence Market I dashed, the bayside market most closely associated with Canadian grub. Here I tried peameal for the first time, & was left affirmed of Canadian courtesy, although the meal itself wasn’t anything to write home about. Yet another stop at Tim Horton’s for some pastries seemed in order before heading back to Union Station. Back at the staging port for my bus it was revealed to passengers that there was a 50-minute delay- just the break I needed to step out & smoke a potent bowl. When I did finally step outside after a few lefts & maybe a right, there in front of me stood the Scotiabank Arena where the Toronto Raptors (reigning NBA Champions) play their home games. To be frank, I was at the rear of the practice court, but nevertheless, happy to happen to be there. The train boards, takes off, & a long list of Canadian towns were slept through & bypassed in the dead of night. I hailed a lift from the Ottawa Train Station to my hostel for the night. The place served as the first jail in city, & had since been neatly converted into a hostel with guests sleeping in tight-fitting ‘jail cells.’ I was on floor 6 in cell number 613, the quarters of a long-gone inmate by the name of Angelo Villamino. I relished this opportunity to mix the excitement of historicism with the usually lull nature of lodging. The rest itself was subpar as my skin had begun peeling profusely during the day, & remained red hot during the night.

DAY 5 - 3/18 - 16.24 miles

Morning comes quickly & I am tasked to clear my cell of my things in a playful return to freedom. Breakfast was held in the dining hall of the jailhouse, aptly ascribed the ‘oldest dining hall in Ottawa.’ After replenishing my body, I held my bags at the front desk, & hurled myself into the city; I had a little over one hour to squeeze as much of the country’s capital into my memory banks as possible. I began by searching for the Parliament building (more like a castle) where the bulk of legislation for the world’s second-largest country (in landmass) largely transpires. No Prime Minister Trudeau or politicians in sight, as the effects of the Coronavirus pandemic amplified by the day. I believe this is the day that the Prime Minister of Canada closed the southern border to incoming Americans, followed swiftly by our President’s mutual refusal of incoming foreign travelers at the border. Admittedly, this was not of concern to me, as I figured (& thankfully was later proven correct) that a U.S. citizen would be permitted to come home. In hindsight, I perhaps predicted such measures being taken & allowed them to expedite my plans of getting to Canada before being unable to enter as an American.

Anyway… by Parliament I glided taking whatever pauses necessary to piece together how things came to be as they are up there from an academic perspective, but carefully preserving the right to take the utmost tourist-y photos (much like others do at 1600 Pennsylvania). A breathtaking building it was indeed, & that was just the view from the street! I continued along my path, circumnavigating the center of the city which took me to Victoria Island & into the province of Quebec for a brief moment (although I was not aware of the provincial border at the time). Like my time in Niagara, I elected to skate from a southern bridge to a northern one, the latter being Alexandra bridge over the Ottawa River. What a special moment this turned out to be as my wheels clanked over the wooden boards of the bridge, seemingly to the dismay of the townspeople. I was not the least bit concerned for this harmless transgression, as I had been otherwise captivated by my backside view of Parliament sitting atop its hill. It felt as if I had been transported to Transylvania, & the Victorian edifice gave me a sense of passion for human ingenuity. I made it back to the HI Ottawa Jail Hostel, aligned my belongings, & requested a ride to the Ottawa Greyhound terminal to catch my bus to Montreal. Here is precisely where Francais surpassed English as the primary mode of communication for the foreseeable future. The beloved Quebecois are very proud of their Francophone heritage, as it is the written language on road signs & nearly all signage everywhere (with a distinctive lower regard for English).

Arrival in Montreal occurred after the couple-hour bus ride. Immediately I was made aware of the foothold in normalcy that the French language commanded there, mainly because everything was in French (& not always in English). Outside the bus station, during my coordination with my Airbnb host, multiple homeless individuals approached me in search of loose change or a cigarette. This would be otherwise unworthy of mention had it not been for their guttural requests being in a language outside of English; I remember finding it striking to conceive a natively French-speaking bum whose domain I was now a guest in. My stuff & I made yet another march to the place I would come to call a temporary home- the apartment of Alix & Marion. I was mid-toke when my host, Alix, motioned to me to come to the stairs at the foot of the door & take my entry. A simple ‘bonjour,’ we greeted each other with, & I demonstrated to her that I would prefer to speak in her primary language in an effort to sharpen my own ear & mouth, to which she gladly agreed. The remainder of our exchanges over roughly the next 48 hours took place in Francais, with varying degrees of contextual & vernacular depth. The common Montrealaise person is a French-speaker with a veritable accent when they switch to English. As the old addage goes, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. I met this challenge to navigate a new cityscape & probe its peoples in an embracing way with occasional angst, constant excitement, & most profoundly with a thirst for knowledge.

My goods were locked away in my room, I had just showered, so I grabbed my board & set sail in search of the city’s lifebloods. Beginning in Chinatown (which usually tends to be either exactly or nearby places I stay in cities), I opted to head west in search of Le Plateau & Mile’s End, sections of the town celebrated for the globality & execution of their cuisinieres. Some poutine boeuf hache from Main Deli on Rue Ste. Laurent seemed the right call, & turned out better than my imagination had guessed. From Mile’s End southward I was bound, seeking to lay eyes upon L’Universite de Montreal. Little did I know it was set atop one of the many tiers of Mt. Royal at the city’s center. Getting there was rather trying, but the views of Quebec’s largest city at night from the campus, coupled with the exhilaration of board-bombing down the occasional hill, left little to be desired & much to be remembered. Further south of the University lied L’Oratoire de St. Joseph (St. Joseph’s Oratory), a Catholic-driven destination featuring towering stained-glass windows, a gathering hall for services that rivaled the most Mormon of Tabernacles, along with a balcony’s viewpoint all its own. After struggling to find the exit from the Oratory, I found it in my best interest to begin the journey back to my bed. A complete encircling of Mt. Royal park was supposed to cap the day’s adventure as night had already befallen hours before. Perhaps fate had other plans in mind.

My phone had been rendered useless at this point, & I had little more than my intelligence to rely on to get me back home. Unfortunately, my mental capacity had waned significantly over the course of the day’s doings, & over the next 2 or 3 hours I could be plainly seen wandering somewhat aimlessly from roadside map to roadside map. The outcome of being well off-track was spectacular, however. I cannot help but feel I got to experience the city in a different & daring light. Half of me wanted to return home, & the other half wanted to investigate each eye-catching facet; more often than not, I let the need to investigate prevail & tacked some formidable mileage onto the invisible odometer of my skateboard throughout the night. After some much-needed guidance from a man walking & a bus driver, I was able to piece together just enough of my surroundings to locate 1223 Rue Ste. Elisabeth. Before heading home, I stopped into an Indian restaurant called SpiceBoys, where I requested tandoori chicken with curry rolled into naan bread. The only problem was that their card terminal was unable to accept any of my debit or credit cards, & so, with one stroke of effortless Indian-Canadian kindness, I was gifted a hearty dinner for the night free of charge. With the help of daylight, the next day I uncovered that I had thoroughly explored Downtown Montreal (via Rue Ste. Catherine), the Red-Light District, the Quartier Latin (Latin Quarter), & the Quartier des Spectacles (Entertainment District). I crept back into the apartment, which creaked with every floorboard, into my room & resigned to fatigue.

DAY 6 - 3/19 - 8.64 miles

I remained asleep in my quarters for the morning’s entirety, having groveled thirteen hours through the mandatory regeneration of my body & mind. Near this time I had an extended conversation with my hostess in which I requested to place my bags there after check-out the following day & attached reasoning to the request… completely in Francais! She was more than accommodating. Awakened & thoughts of the night prior still scrambling my brain, I showered (peeling skin off myself for the vast majority of time in the water), clothed myself in some hot shit, & set out to cross the St. Lawrence River. The cartographic struggles that were now in the past (plus a charged phone) helped me immensely in getting to my desired destinations in the coming days. I set out southward on Boulevard Rene-Levesque seeking to hit Griffintown & St. Henri before taking the Wellington Street bridge over to the L’isle de Ste. Helene (St. Helen Island). The riverfront at Sq. St. Patrick was an intoxicating mixture of sights & sounds; inlaid with a frozen stream, industrious (sometimes abandoned) infrastructure, & graffiti/street art that seamlessly colorized a scene already full of vibrance made for a quite memorable portion. At the point where most individuals had turned back due to the icy paths & an increasingly disinviting ambience, I progressed under Highway 10. On a route I was positive few or none had taken before, I stood roadside at dusk having to think intensely upon my next move & if it was the correct one. Wrong ones were made, gloves were dropped, but in time & effort I was able to find Avenue Pierre-Dupuy.

For a handful of kilometers, I skated along the shipyard gazing upon the city that I had been so immersed in & with. I was trying to practice kicking & pushing in the ‘goofy’ stance, so that I could face the spectacles & not apartment complexes (to mild avail). Before I knew it, I reached Parc Dieppe (Dieppe Park), a park on the north tip of the Cite du Havre & the starting point of the Pont de la Concorde (Concord Bridge). I would begin crossing without giving myself the time to let fear fester. Cars sped by at a half-meter’s length as my wheels rolled over tidbits of gravel, & more present in my mind, over a large body of water. I recall taking a few moments of pause at the bridge’s midpoint to survey my surroundings, & beautifully dominating they were. Humbled I felt, truly. As if my existence equated to a ripple in the river below, & with my individual ripple I can become a hurricane, or mud. The end of the bridge was a comforting sight.

To reach L’isle de Ste. Helene was the goal for the day & having gotten off the east end of the Pont de la Concorde, I was finally there. A long walk up the eastern coast of the island awaited me & was met with a heart teeming with adventure. Here I had time alone. With no other humans nearby, I let my mind run wild with thoughts of the trip to this point & how, in the grand scheme of things, I felt I was at where I should be; perhaps not geographically as one’s physical station is usually inconsequential. But in my mental state I was home, & home alone at that. Onward & northward I strode through the Parc Jean-Drapeau, laying eyes upon the ‘Biosphere’- a spherical structure on the island meant to champion ecology. Trees & ice accompanied me on the brisk walk to the north end of the island. There, Pont Jacques-Cartier (Jacques Cartier Bridge) awaited me in all of its steel beam splendor. Thankfully, the lanes of traffic & the pedestrian walkway had a divider between them, as well as a protective gate on the side where one might otherwise go overboard. This was all I needed to hop back on my board & skate my weathered boots over the St. Lawrence for the last time. On the bridge there were workers toiling away & the dazzling light sequence of the bridge itself made for a surreal experience. In the distance I could see the bridge, lit in rainbow colors, that I had crossed merely an hour or two before this new bridge that served as my current vantage point. Thoughts on the ephemerality of my existence at large (exemplified by having been way over yonder ‘then’ & here ‘now’) & the absolute need for self-belief against a vacuum of chance pervaded my tiny brain. The Pont Jacques-Cartier provided a special moment in my life that I can attest to having been rarely duplicated before. For reasons beyond me, I shed a tear & smoked a bowl before getting off.

Once off, I felt my way through Gay Village & back down into the Quartier Latin where I stopped for dinner at a quaint, but busy, Napoli Pizzeria. The owner was Italian. The waiter too. Both spoke Italian, English, & French, but after a while a Mexican family of 6 on vacation from Monterrey was seated, & the working duo displayed their aptitude in the Spanish language as well, going so far as to tell jokes anecdotally. I grinned & shared in the aura of the exchange, although I likely resembled a dirty drifter in the corner. Coming from such worldly humans, naturally the smoked salmon pizza topped with capers & onions was not lacking in the least bit. So, I ordered a large box for take-out after munching away the smaller portion & took my leave. On the way home, I stopped at a Second Cup Coffee Co. location & had a brief verbal volley with the barista in request of a cheesecake. He complimented my accent when speaking French, & even likened it to that of a French person (maybe meaning not Quebecois), despite glaring difficulties in my comprehension & rebuttals. Riding an emotional (& literal) high during the descent of a simply remarkable day of jam-packed novelty & sensation in all forms (sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, introspection), I returned to the apartment for my last full night in the region.

DAY 7 - 3/20 - 2.42 miles

My time in Montreal was now nearing an end, & I began to hold thoughts of coming home in high regard. When the sluggishness of sleep washed away in the shower (insert skin peeling of the largest proportions here), I readied my luggage & cleaned my temporary room as best as I could to eliminate all signs of a horrific sunburn & accompanying cranial gash. With the green light from my hostesses to store my luggage in the apartment until the night’s 10:50 bus ride to Plattsburgh, NY, I was intent upon checking off the last few Montreal-bound goals that remained. This came chiefly in the form of a desire to reach the Mt. Royal lookout in order to take in the city-sphere from its namesake mountain. Originally, I had intended to skateboard there from the apartment, but after a few blocks of dousing rain, I called an Uber to scoop me up (after finding out that Lyft doesn’t yet operate in Quebec) & take me. The friendly Uber driver, Vincent, let me out at the drivable point closest to the Chateau Mont Royal, & didn’t hesitate to call me crazy for being there in such ferocious conditions. He pointed me in the proper direction which was aided by a fellow human headed toward the same spot as myself. Precipitation worsened as the half-mile March was underway, but it was worth every goosebump & raindrop once I reached the outlook.

A dreary backdrop of low-hanging, gray clouds & the smell of rain caressed the skyline’s perimeter in a way that rang true & imprinted upon me a stunningly naked Montreal. An intimate version of the city it was, gripped by the unknown like the rest of the world, yet resilient enough for entrepreneurialism to survive in pockets. Having already been to many of the places now set in my sight made the moment all the more fulfilling & full circle. A naive feeling of having ‘conquered’ the city laid bare before me was soon supplanted by the revelation of the realer self-conquest. Half-frozen water panging my face & wind gusts pulling & pushing without cease proved no match for the firmness I had found, in feet & fortitude. This was the quintessential culmination of the week I endured, & one one-hundred percent befitting of such a voyage.

I made my escape of Mount Royal with haste before my inadequate (but stylish) clothing proved a fatal error. Originally, I had the notion to return to Main Deli because my last meal there was so damn good, but in the moment I opted for Schwartz’s Deli across the street in the name of variety. A heaping steak sandwich slatted between two tiny slices of wheat with mustard proved to be the house specialty, & was served less than a minute after being ordered… It was alright. Homeward bound with a full stomach, I decided to walk into a store that I had held in the back of my mind after passing by my first day there, Cul-de-Sac. This place was happening! The owner of the store was gracious in her conversation as I browsed. I eventually confessed my inspiration(s) gained from her shop (& plans to recreate in a respectful, homage-paying manner). We spoke at length about various topics, from our being of parents, to our being of owners of similar retail operations, to her allegiance to Quebec & not the whole of Canada. In fact, she was the foremost messenger of the separatist mentality that the people of the Quebec province displayed, on their countenance & in their conduct. I purchased a few of the items in her shop, she threw me some good stuff for free, & we wished well upon each other at my exit. That was the last recreational stop in Montreal, & soon thereafter I retreated to the Quartier des Spectacles to acquire my things. I was graced with the time to charge my phone & rest my bones for about 45 minutes. It was during this time that a cherished exchange between myself, Alix, & Marion (a hostess with whom I’d only spoken with via Airbnb messaging up to this point) occurred. It had become expected that I was asked what I did with my day, & that is how the chat began. I explained the day’s travels, thanked the duo for being a source of comfort & ease at the beginnings & ends of trying days. I also thanked them for putting up with my butchering of their language (as each inhabitant of the apartment was from France) for the sake of practice, which they met befuddled & were quick to praise my ability to communicate/intonate in their complicated speech. They even went so far as to say that my speaking has a native’s accent & were super appreciative of my having taught myself over the last couple years. A mutual encounter I cannot help but feel it was, & I remain grateful for their pleasant & inviting demeanors. I climbed down the long stairwell of 1223 Rue Ste. Elisabeth once & for all & signaled for Uber to take me to the Longueil Metro.

I had arrived at the bus station with plenty of time to spare, having somewhat learned the errors of my ways. I was serious about not wanting to cut anything close with such little time left for my returning flight home. I waited patiently at my gate for my bus to arrive & whisk me away back to the states for my 2:59 AM flight out of Plattsburgh, New York (Upstate). Sadly, the bus’s arrival time came & went, & at the mention of the ticketing booth agent, I waited another 45 minutes for it. Having received no notification of cancellation from the bussing company, no accurate updates on the whereabouts of the bus, & minute after minute shaving away from takeoff time, I was forced to call an Uber to pick me up from the metro station & take me to the border- this cost one-hundred Canadian dollars. We stopped at an ATM, grabbed some snacks, & finally Ridaha & I were on our way. A fruitful & insightful chat aided us along the drive, & I was able to disentangle much French from this nice Tunisian man. An hour passed & we arrived at the U.S. border.

As the car pulled up to the border, U.S. Customs agents ordered repeatedly for my driver’s documentation. A brief argument between an unsuspecting Ridaha & an extremely serious officer took place. The very odd circumstances were eventually explained, Ridaha was directed to make a U-turn & head home while I exited the vehicle, grabbed my bags, & headed to the border patrol substation. It was there that I was informed that I would need to call a cab (as Uber wasn’t functioning in this particular location), but to complicate matters drastically, the taxi services weren’t doing the ‘border run’ that night. My heart fell into my stomach, & I had entered a phase of worry that I had yet to reach at any point along the trip. Thankfully, one Officer Burdette walked me to the West Service Road behind the U.S. Border Patrol & Customs Champlain Station & pointed in the direction of the nearest place still open- a Peterbilt truck stop about a half mile down a pitch-black road. He also made it a point to mention that if I attempted to hitchhike on main Highway 87, I would be arrested. This oh so tangible road brought with it intangible emotion after emotion as I grappled with triumph & failure, each still hanging in the balance. It had become very important outside of my own ambitions for me to make the plane & get home, & I was purely keen to not have loved ones worry about my wellbeing any longer. A frantic mixture of skating & speed-walking got me to the Peterbilt stop, & by the grace of God, the taxi company agreed to send out a driver for me & get me to the airport from this largely equidistant pick-up point. While I waited in freezing temperatures in an Eddie Bauer peacoat on the side of the road at the smallest hour, another group of U.S. Customs agents spotted me & sought to question my being there. They asked for identification & reasoning to which I was forthcoming. They wished me well & left.

Thirty minutes later, a portly man of sound intelligence & world view taxied me to the Plattsburgh International Airport (after having stopped at an ATM for cash to pay him). I entered the empty airport at 2:30 AM for my 2:59 AM flight with the driver’s assurance that I’ll be able to get right through TSA & onto the plane. More than sadly, he was mistaken. The Spirit Airlines attendant had vacated his post thirty minutes before takeoff to aid the onboarding crew, as per policy, of course. I rushed up to the barren TSA line & inquired about my chances of getting on the plane. They responded that the flight door had already been closed, & that it was now an impossibility for me to board. Needless to say, it was now impossible for me to get home on time, too. I felt I had fallen just short of a buzzer-beating victory that I had already affirmed to those who had expressed concern. I had begun to list the many variables that could have gone differently to get me on to that flight: 1) why didn’t my bus in Longueil show up or even notify me of cancellation? 2) why didn’t I deem the bus ride a lost cause sooner & get an Uber sooner? 3) why did we have to stop at an ATM so off-route when leaving Montreal? 4) Couldn’t they have held me & my driver up a bit less at the border? 5) Why couldn’t the taxi agency send someone a half-mile further than where they would eventually come to pick me up? 6) Why did this portly man with a good view of the world have to drive the speed limit? Would he have driven faster if I didn’t entertain his subjects? 7) Why the fuck does the agent at the airline counter leave the counter thirty minutes before a flight is scheduled to take off?

When the airline attendant did return, he was sympathetic to my cause & willing to help find a solution. Employing a similar program to the one used at the beginning of the trip, he was able to book the exact flight for the following day free of charge. This eased me greatly. Questions & doubt lingered, but I soon picked my chin up & hopped in another cab headed for the America’s Best Value Inn. This would be my impromptu safe haven on this frigid Friday night, & I checked in at 3:30 AM.

DAY 8 - 3/21 - 0 miles

Today is my sister’s & my aunt’s shared birthday. I wished dearly to be home by now next to my daughter, & to begin decompressing the week’s peaks & valleys. Yet, here I sit in the lobby of the cheap motel I spent last night in. I’ve been in the same chair since 1:15 PM, & it is now 12:49 AM (with the exception of a few bathroom/water breaks & a brief standing up to accept ordered wings & garlic bread). This unexpected & obligation-less window in time was spent formulating this transcript of a vacation I can confidently say will come to prove formative as life presses on. One not soon to be forgotten, nor the lessons gained therein forsaken. My flight to Las Vegas via Fort Lauderdale, Florida & Dallas, Texas is due to leave in a couple hours. With my lack of punctuality deeply ingrained, I resolve to close this memoir in saying that the constant struggle with mortality across Earth & in minds amidst these troubling waters was on full display in every city & each individual’s expression. Death and Disease on the tongues of the media & man the world over, but life itself (outside of the biological & inside of the metaphorical sense) is to be explored & discovered lovingly… never to be shied away from or merely sustained. With our collectively restricted circumstances reaching a fever pitch in what people can & cannot, should & should not, will & will not do, I resolve to digress & remain profoundly thankful for love, safety, health & home.

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athina-blaine · 4 years

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Jon takes the statement of Mr. Blackwood, concerning his midnight wanderings.

Chapters: 1/1 [Complete]

Words: 2,058

Tags: Light Angst, Supernatural Elements, Pre-Relationship

“I’m sorry if I’m wasting your time.”

“Rest assured, Mr. Blackwood, this is a part of my job.”

“Oh, uh, Martin is fine.”

Mr. Blackwood – Martin – rubbed the back of his neck. Nervous energy oozed from every pore, but Jon couldn’t determine if that was due to his statement or if that was just his usual disposition.

“I’ve always been curious about this place,” said Martin. “Even thought about applying once. I hear about it on podcasts all the time. You really take statements from anyone who comes in?”

“That’s correct.”

“What do you do when they’re taking the piss?”

“The Magnus Institute will accept statements from any source and perform a follow up to the best of its ability.”

“Okay, but, like, what if they’re obviously taking the piss?”

Jon brought a hand to his chin. “We’ve only ever had to escort out one person before, if that’s what you mean, and one could easily make the deduction that he was under the influence at the time.”

“Oh, wow.” Martin looked down at his hands. “Do you ever believe them?”

“What?”

Martin’s face reddened. He swallowed.

“I mean, do you ever think, ‘hey, this chap might be on to something’? Or have they, you know, all just been pretty much crazy?”

Jon sighed. He knew what the man wanted him to say, but to say it would infringe Jon’s professional standards. “Frankly, believing or disbelieving the statement giver isn’t my job. I’m just here to collect and compile the information.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t think they were all crazy, though.” Jon slid the tape recorder forward. “And I will listen to what you have to say.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Statement of Martin Blackwood regarding his midnight wanderings. Statement taken directly from subject August 14th, 2016. Statement begins.”

Martin took a slow, deep breath.

“It is crazy, though, you know? That’s why I came here. There really wasn’t anywhere else for me to go. I’m sorry again—”

“You don’t need to apologize, Martin. Just start from the beginning.”

“Right. So, I guess it started when my mum moved out. This was, um, about two weeks ago, I think. She went to this care home in Devon. She’s been wanting to go there for ages.” He smiled, but it was off. “Weird, isn’t it? Like, who wants to go to a care home?”

He trailed off, staring at his hands. His eyes were faraway.

Jon cleared his throat. Martin blinked.

“Right. Sorry.”

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No, no, that’s fine. I just—” He sucked in a quick breath. “So, yeah, Mum left, and it’s the first time I’ve ever been all on my own. I think I should have felt happy. I mean, every kid is happy when they get their own place, and it’s not like my mum was the easiest person to live with. But, I don’t know. I just hated it. The flat seemed too quiet.”

Martin squirmed, crossing his arms. “Um, sorry, yeah, I think I’ll take that water, actually.”

Jon stood, making a quick trip to the breakroom. Martin accepted the porcelain mug but didn’t drink it as Jon sat back down. He just cradled it with two hands, staring into the clear water.

“So, yeah, it was all feeling like a bit much, then. I had a bad dream that night, I don’t really remember it, and after that I tried just staying out of the flat as much as possible. I didn't have anywhere to go, so I just wandered around town. It could have started then. I wasn’t paying attention to anything during those walks.”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing, at first. I’d just be walking around and lost in thought. Then, I’d look up and I was in an area I didn’t recognize and hours have gone by. I just thought I’d been more spacey than usual, but then, I’d keep losing more and more hours until suddenly the entire day was disappearing, and I barely remembered any of it. One day I had walked clear across London and it was 3 in the morning. I hadn’t eaten at all during that time and almost passed out. I tried to stop going out after that.”

“Tried?”

“Yeah. But the flat was still so … I just couldn’t stay there. I tried setting an alarm on my phone and maybe it would snap me out of it and I’d turn back home once it went off. That night, it was about 4 at that point, I couldn’t find it in my pockets, and I got a call the next day on my landline from someone who said they found my phone in the trash.”

Martin took a large gulp of water. His voice was wobbling. “I really started freaking out after that. I thought I was being possessed or something. I stayed at a motel to see if that changed anything, even barricaded myself in, but I found myself somewhere by a river in Erith at 5 AM. It was freezing. It had been almost 24 hours at that point. I was exhausted, and I didn’t have anyone I could ask for help.”

“You can take a break if you need one.”

Martin jerked up. His fingers were white from his grip on the mug. He set it down on Jon’s desk.

“No, that’s okay,” he said. “I just want to get this over with.”

“Take all the time you need.”

“I finally … saw it, about a week ago. I think I was walking on the Albert Bridge at that point and I was looking at the ground, and there were these strange shapes. I didn’t really react at first, but I lifted my head, and everything looked so weird. Like, you know when you’re staring at an optical illusion and it makes your eyes hurt? And it all smelled so stale and old and everyone was gone. I was alone. And there was this voice.”

“A voice?”

Martin nodded. His hands were shaking. “I think I'd been hearing it the entire time. Seeing … that place the entire time. It must have been where my head was going.”

“Can you tell me what the voice said?”

"I don't ..." Martin swallowed, but it was strangled, as if something sharp were pressing on his throat. “It was talking about how happy my mum was now that I was out of her life. That no one would miss me if I jumped off the bridge.”

He clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. He blinked and a tear slid down his cheek.

Jon waited. Martin rubbed his face. Jon held out the mug, still half filled with water, and Martin took it back, finishing it off in one gulp.

“Thank you,” Martin said, softly, wiping his mouth.

“What happened after that?”

“I don’t really know. I think someone yelled at me for getting too close to the bridge, and I kind of just woke up. And it hasn’t happened again after that.”

Jon pulled the tape recorder closer to himself. His pulse was drumming in his throat. “And this happened last Tuesday, correct?”

“Um, yeah. How did you—?”

“Just a guess. And you haven’t had a problem with this since?”

“No. I don’t think so, anyway.” Martin coughed. “So, yeah. That’s everything.” He chuckled, nervously. “Crazy, right?”

“Hmm.”

Jon tapped the surface of his desk, eyebrows drawn together. He took a deep breath.

“We’ll look into what we can, but I must admit, based on the isolated nature of your incident, I doubt we’ll be able to uncover anything particularly illuminating.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” Martin scrubbed his face. “Honestly, I’m just glad you haven’t laughed me out of the building yet. ‘Oh, a kid hallucinates some spooky nonsense and fancies he might have had a paranormal encounter.’ Like, it’s ridiculous, right?”

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”

Martin stared at him. Clearing his throat, he stood. “Well, thank you. I won’t bother you anymore—”

“Wait.” Jon grabbed a paper and pen from his desk, quickly scribbling a number. He stood and held it out. “Please, let me know if anything like this happens again.”

“Oh, okay.” Martin took the paper and stared at it. “Is this … is this your cellphone number?”

“I don’t see how that makes a difference.”

“This can’t be in your job description.”

“To be perfectly honest, the exact wording as outlined in my contract is incredibly and unhelpfully vague.”

Jon clicked off the tape recorder.

“Statement ends.”

Jon let out a slow breath, closing his eyes, before bringing the tape recorder closer.

“Much as I suspected, this case is a dead end. Security footage showed that Mr. Blackwood was, indeed, wandering around London for hours with little to no awareness of his surroundings. This went on for nearly five days. One clip showed him tossing his phone in a skip and another of a kid running right into him, almost knocking him over. He hadn’t reacted.

“Sasha confirmed that he booked a reservation for one night at the Central Inn motel on August 9th, 2016. Apparently, the manager gave her quite an earful since her ‘friend’ had given the custodian a bad fright with his quote unquote sleepwalking and had left the room a mess.

"That’s pretty much all we can do for him."

Jon brought a hand to his face, massaging his head.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t even recognized him.”

The tape rolled in it's casing. It seemed louder than usual.

“I wouldn’t have even noticed him if we hadn't nearly run into each other. He was just standing in the middle of the pavement, staring at nothing. I asked him what his problem was, but he hadn't said anything. Then he started walking towards the edge of the bridge, and suddenly I was stricken with absolute terror. I don’t know why. It was something about the way he was walking. Shambling. As if nothing was going to get in his way.

“So, I shouted at him. He blinked and looked over at me, and I could tell he actually saw me that time. I wanted to say something, maybe yell at him some more for pulling a stunt like that, but I was running late for work and his eyes ... I couldn’t stand to be there.

“What a cowardly thing to do. What would have happened if I hadn’t …?”

Jon dropped his hand, leaning back in his chair and breathing.

“Well. No use wondering about ‘what-ifs’. He texted me the other day, let me know he was still safe, which I can be honest and admit that that does provide me with some measure of relief. He’s thinking of moving flats, which I agreed with, although finding somewhere cheap this time of year will certainly prove a challenge. I don’t envy him, anyway. I think Sasha mentioned something of one of her neighbors moving out, though. I’ll have to ask.”

A buzz in his pocket pulled him from his musings. Another text. It was a picture of someone holding a large bottle of Smirnoff in a grocery store.

>on my way to make a statement!

Jon rolled his eyes, punching in his response.

>You do realize I had to clean up the mess he made myself? I’m certain he’d had chicken for dinner that night.

>oh im sorry, didn’t mean to pick at an old trauma :p

>Any relapses?

>im okay

Jon stared at the conversation, tweaking the edge of his phone. He turned back to the tape recorder.

“I shouldn’t be so preoccupied with a statement giver’s welfare, but, well, I suppose it’s not surprising, considering my involvement. I don’t think I’ll mention anything, at least not right now. I don’t see what good it would do. I’ll keep a close eye on him in the meantime.”

Another buzz.

>thank you, by the way. for checking up on me all the time. i know im just some random guy from the street

>It’s no trouble

>it is, though. i want to make it up to you somehow

Jon shouldn’t be so preoccupied with a statement giver’s welfare. It wasn't professional.

He found himself typing back, regardless.

>What did you have in mind?

>oh. well, i dont know, actually. i didnt think youd take me up on it. do you like coffee?

Jon smiled.

“Recording ends.”

#the magnus archives #tma #themagnuspod #jonmartin #jonathon sims #martin blackwood #fic #fanfiction #my writing

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mavriksan · 4 years

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Best Motels in Sandusky Ohio You must Book

Covid 19 has changed the way we used to plan our vacation. Our bucket list is left in some corner and we don’t even bother to check it out. But the world will heal and everything will be fine at some point of time. All you have to do is keep making the plans as we all know life is once and we can’t live it twice. Planning a vacation with your loved ones is one of the best things you can do for yourself. This summer you should definitely plan to go to your favorite destination. Book the best motels in Sandusky, Ohio as this place is brimming with hidden treasures and waiting for you to explore.

Here are the list of motels in Sandusky, Ohio that you must visit:

1. Cedar Cove: This place is located in Sandusky near Cedar point. This wonderful hotel is located within 4.5 km of Cedar Point and 9.7 km of Kalahari Waterpark.

The hotel provides many luxury amenities with a seasonal outdoor swimming pool and free private parking for guests who drive. The hotel is almost 7-minutes away as you can walk or run from Castaway Bay Waterpark.

Moreover, it is only 3.2 km from Merry Go Round Museum & 3.4 km from Sandusky State Theatre. The motel features family rooms.

● Rooms are equipped with air conditioning.

● A flat-screen TV with cable channels.

● A coffee machine

● A shower, a hairdryer and a desk.

● Rooms are complete with a private bathroom equipped with a bath and free toiletries, while certain units at the motel also provide guests with a terrace.

2. Mecca Motel Sandusky :

The most popular and most visited Mecca Sandusky, Ohio motel is just 4.8 km from Cedar Point Amusement Park and features free Wi-Fi access. If you are running out of data packs and looking for some free wifi zone then this is the best place for you. The African Safari Wildlife Park is 24.1 km away. You will be super happy by knowing the facts that the Mecca Motel Sandusky include cable TV and a private bathroom. The interiors and the decor are simply beautifully styled with wooden furnishings & carpeted floors. You will also get the benefits of free parking at the Sandusky Mecca Motel. Air conditioning is also provided. The Red Gable Mesquite Grill is just a 2-minute walk from the motel. Dianna's Deli & Restaurant is 1.6 km away. The Grand Sandusky Mall Shopping Center is a 10-minute drive from the motel. The Merry-Go-Round Museum is 4.8 km away.

3. Wolf Inn Hotel:

If you are completely blank and don’t know where to go, then come straight to Wolf Inn hotel. This place is near to every great excitement rich destination. Cedar point amusement park, Sandusky mall, sandusky speedway are all located near to this place.

Don’t wait for the perfect timing, just head out to your dream destination this vacation and spend some quality time with your loved ones.

If you are wondering where to stay in Sandusky then you must visit: https://wolfinnhotel.com/gallery.html.

#HotelsinSandusky #CheapHotelsinSanduskyOhio #HotelsnearCedarPoint #MotelsinSandusky Ohio

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aspenlodgemotel-blog · 4 years

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Spend your vacation perfectly with 2 bedroom units in Hanmer Springs NZ

There is not at all like being forced to bear singular consideration and consideration when setting up for boutique extravagance hold up convenience in Hanmer Springs for Accommodation. This is your opportunity to kick back and give up your need to organise everything and let somebody with your eventual benefits on a fundamental level take care of your needs, pre-empting them before you even get an opportunity to verbalize them.

So what are a few fundamentals when taking a gander at the ideal spot for you? Here are a few rules:

1. Wonderfully Appointed Rooms

If you are going to remain in extravagance, it must be lovely. A general dependable guideline is it must be in the same class as or superior to your own home. Going to remain someplace that is not exactly your own home experience can't loosen up your feelings of anxiety by any stretch of the imagination! This incorporates pad menus, and high string check cloths for your bed. You need a serene spot for your head.

2. Quality, Locally Produced Food

If you've come to remain in a specific territory of New Zealand you need the best nourishment and wine, from nearby suppliers. This is a stunning method to get a vibe of the encompassing nourishment makers, and test new nourishment that looks and tastes extraordinary. If you have uncommon dietary prerequisites this ought to be met also. The hosts should have the option to propose reasonable eating places for meals also.

3. Recommendations on experiences and day trips

Extravagance hold up settlement in New Zealand is regularly set around zones of genuine enthusiasm to the guest. Expect a host who can not just assistance you while you are there to discover beneficial activities (and can offer themselves as an individual visit manage whenever wanted) yet can likewise help you before you show up with any data on the off chance that you like to have everything sorted out before you show up. There are largely the exceptional things that indicate a stunning 2 bedroom units in Hanmer Springs NZ on these, for example, the web gets to on the off chance that you MUST work while you remain, clothing administrations, books and magazines to peruse, home preparing and chocolates, shower robes, and hairdryers.

There is a genuine advantage to you and your friends and family in booking extravagance to stop convenience in New Zealand. Indeed, even a concise stay can help revive you and give you a lift to assist you with returning to your bustling life.

These accommodations are a notable noteworthy milestone in delightful in, New Zealand. It has been depicted in regarded distributions as the best neo-Georgian structure in New Zealand and conveys a pined for Historic Places Trust Category I posting. Strikingly, The Aspen Lodge is the main recorded dwelling offering convenience in the city and just one of six such recorded properties offering settlement all through the whole nation.

Why you choose aspen lodge?

One of the most significant components of Hanmer Springs motels is the convenience that you pick. Contingent upon your particular goals for voyaging or you want for a specific kind of housing, you will have various goals and areas to look over. If you are visiting the Wanaka region, you will appreciate an assortment of extravagance lodging that can give you the most ideal occasion by giving you each pleasantry that you might envision. To locate your optimal Wanaka extravagance hold up a settlement, you have to do a little research and figure out what you need.

An extravagance hold up settlement doesn't need to be costly, either. This is uplifting news to many occasion explorers coming to New Zealand or arranging their excursion. While it will be more costly than remaining in a spending inn, the extravagance stop choice can't that is far off, using any means. Set aside the effort to look at the lodging that is accessible and ensure that you locate the one that suits your requirements. Think about the settlement itself, the notoriety of the cabin, the nature of administration, and the expense of the room or suite that you pick. The area may assume a job, too, because each extraordinary zone will offer various perspectives and access to neighborhood organisations and occasions.

Summing up:

Finding a reasonable extravagance stop settlement isn't troublesome. By doing some examination, you may be wonderfully astounded at what number of extraordinary extravagance housing are accessible, and exactly what number of them you may have the option to bear. Such a large number of individuals markdown the alternative of extravagance housing before doing research just because they expect they can't manage the cost of them. In any case, on the off chance that you take a gander at your alternatives, you may understand these lodgings are more moderate than you suspected.

#Hanmer Springs motels

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travelexploreworldlove · 5 years

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East Coast of Australia 🇦🇺

We landed in a very smoky Sydney and collected our luggage and picked up our rental car from Apex. (Hyuandi Accent)

2 ½ hours later we arrived at the Cumberland Motor Inn in Cessnock. It was a clean standard room, with everything we needed. We headed to bed early, as we had to get up at 3:30am for the hot air balloon.

We met the Balloon Aloft at 4am at Peterson House. We chose our breakfast and made our way to the site were we would take off. The air balloon was set up and we boarded it. Unfortunately due to the fires, it was very smoky which meant we couldn’t see anything. After a 30-minute flight we safety landed and we got our breakfast.

Port MacQuarie

We travelled on to Port MacQuarie, it was a small seaside town. We were staying in Port MacQuarie hotel, with the room was extremely basic with a shared bathroom. There was also no air conditioning so it was very hot (as it was 35 degrees).

We walked around the town in the afternoon and had some dinner in the restaurant.

Coffs Harbour

The next day it was time to travel further up the East Coast to Coffs Harbour where we stayed in an Ibis. It was a clean room with air conditioning and private bathroom. We walked along the pier and visited the famous ‘Big Banana’. It was a very quiet town with not a lot to do!

Byron Bay

We travelled 4 ½ hours to Byron Bay in 35 degrees, it was extremely hot! We stayed in an Airbnb about a 10-minute walk from the town centre. The room was clean and tidy with a private bathroom.

As it was nice weather, we decided to walk up to Cape Byron lighthouse, it was a tough walk in the heat but the views were worth it.

We had dinner in Miss Margarita (a Mexican restaurant) and had a few drinks in the Beach Hotel and Sticky Wicket Bar.

Byron Bay was exactly what I had imagined, a very laid-back hippy town. There were many young travellers and plenty of nightlife.

The next morning it was lashing with rain, so we made our way into town for a late breakfast at Byron Fresh. We walked around the town and picked up some souvenirs. Later on, we waited until the rain had stopped and went out to Bayger, which is a famous burger bar - the food was so tasty. We watched an Australian band called ‘Thunderfox’ at the Beach Motel.

Surfers Paradise

We made our way to Surfers Paradise, only a short hours drive. We were staying in an Airbnb in Paradise Island. After we checked in, we went to the gym. Later on in the evening we walked into the town, where there was lots and lots of bars and restaurants. We ended up eating in Costa D'oro Italian Restaurant. It was so lively, with nightclubs, pub-crawls and lots of young travellers.

Looking back we should have stayed another night in Surfers Paradise!

Brisbane

The next morning, after going to the gym – we made the 1-hour journey to Brisbane. We were staying in the Ibis Styles in the CBD. I was very impressed with the hotel, it was so clean and the room was lovely. The only downside was there was no wifi.

In the evening we walked around the city (mainly the harbor), which I was really liked, it reminded me of Sydney. We had a few drinks and snacks in the Bavarian Beer House.

The next day we went to the gym and got ready to walk around the city. It was 40 degrees, so we could only manage to stay out for 30 minutes before coming back to the hotel. We decided to do the washing and wait until it cooled down in the evening. Later on, we did some shopping and had dinner at WingHaus.

Hervey Bay

After checking out at 11am, we made our way to Hervey Bay – it took 3 ½ hours. We were staying the night in an Airbnb with a private bathroom. The room/bathroom was not very clean – least it was only for one night! We walked the pier and cooked our own dinner in the Airbnb.

Fraser Island

The next morning we were due to get the 3:30pm ferry to Fraser Island, but we decided to get the earlier ferry to have more time on Fraser Island. We had booked a 3 day/2 night Cool Dingos tour so therefore they took our bags at the ferry and they would be delivered to our room on Fraser Island.

When we got to main hotel on the island, The Kingfisher Resort (5 minute walk from the ferry), we were given the keys to our room and a shuttle took us to the ‘Wilderness Lodge’. This accommodation was very basic, it had a shared bathroom/communal area which we would be sharing with others on our tour.

That evening we met the rest of our group at the Dingo Bar and took part in a Bushtucker experience, were we got to eat different food such as Kangaroo and Crocodile.

In total there was 18 people in our tour, most of them girls and some solo travellers. When we got back from dinner, 7 of them were staying in our lodge and they made so much noise it was hard to sleep - even though we had to get up at 630am the next morning!

After our breakfast at the Dingo Bar, we got on the converted 4x4 bus and made our way to Lake Wabby and Lake Mackenzie. As the track was made of sand it was awful, there was potholes everywhere and we constantly were moving side to side!

When we got to Lake Wabby we trekked 3 kilometers over sand to a massive green dirty lake – I wasn’t impressed.

For lunch we stopped at a Rainforest park and went for a short walk along the freshwater stream. Finally, our last stop was Lake Mackenzie. It was beautiful, lovely clear water and white sand. We also saw a dingo walking along the beach!

That night we had sunset drinks at the bar and met the new people joining our group and the new tour guide, Wayne.

The final day, after breakfast we headed to 75 Mile Beach were we paid extra to take a 15minute flight over Fraser Island. It was so good, I am glad we did it!

We visited Champagne Pools, Indian Head and S.S. Maheno shipwreck. The last stop of the day was the Eli Creek, which was a freshwater creek, which was basically a lazy river. Wayne gave us Tyre Tubes to go down the creek – I really enjoyed it!

On our way back, Wayne was taking us to the ferry but as he was driving like a maniac, the bus got stuck in 2nd gear. This meant he didn’t think we would make the 5pm ferry. Fortunately we made it just in time!

Once we got back to Hervey Bay, we drove 4 ½ hours to Rockhampton Motel.

Airlie Beach

We checked out at 10am from the motel and drove 5 ½ hours to Airlie Beach. We were staying in Whitsundays Vista Holiday Apartments for 3 nights. We walked into the town in the evening and there were lots of bars, nightclubs and restaurants on the main street – it was very very busy! We had a few drinks and ate in KC’s Bar and Grill and listened to live music.

The next morning we met at the Port of Airlie at 730am and boarded the 8am boat to Hamilton Island. When we arrived at Hamilton Island we were allowed to use all the amenities on the island such as the resort pools. We walked around the island and had our lunch in the Marina Tavern (this was included on our ticket). We got the 1:10pm ferry to Whitehaven Beach, on the way to the beach and back it was an open bar with afternoon tea. The beach was absolutely stunning, beautiful white sand and clear water. We spent 2 hours on the beach.

The ferry picked us up and took us back to Airlie Beach, where we went to Woolworths and ate in the apartment.

The last day, we got the 8am ferry out to Hardy Reef. The ferry took 3 hours, with morning tea served. Once we got to Hardy Reef we took the 30minute submarine, which showed the reef without getting wet! Next we had our lunch and finally we got ready and snorkeled in the reef. I was very disappointed; I thought the coral would have been more colourful. There were fish but there wasn’t any turtles or mantra rays. After spending 4 hours at the reef we got the 3-hour ferry back to Airlie Beach.

We got Dominoes for dinner as we were exhausted and were planning on getting up at 6am the next morning.

Cairns

We made the 7 ½ hour drive to Cairns, stopping in Townsville for lunch. We left the car back and were only charged $200 for a cracked windscreen! The arrived at the Doubletree Hilton and checked into our room. We then had a few drinks and dinner in the hotel restaurant. The hotel felt very quiet with the bar closing at 9pm.

On Christmas morning we watched a Christmas movie and went down for the lunch at 12pm. The Christmas lunch was not great and was not worth the money. The only thing good about it was the unlimited alcohol! Later on in the evening we watched National Lampoons Christmas Vacation.

On Boxing Day, we paid for breakfast in the hotel and went to the gym in the afternoon. We packed all our bags, to get ready for Bali tomorrow!

#australia #Sydney #coffs harbour #port macquarie #balloonaloft #brisbane #cooldingos #fraser island #herveybay #cairns #rockhampton #christmas #doubletreebyhilton #great barrier reef #hamilton island #hardyreef #Bali #travel #couple

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chicgeekgirl89 · 5 years

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The Honeymooners: Chapter 2

A/N: I’m back! I’m here! I’m slower at writing than ever! Enjoy the second chapter of Densi’s summer vacation!

Read Chapter 1 Here

They touched down in Jacksonville half an hour later. Medical was brought on board to deal with the elderly woman Kensi had helped and Cherise, the flight attendant. Kensi and Deeks were at the back of the plane meaning they were some of the last to disembark.

By the time they reached the gate it was packed with people attempting to change their flights. “Who would’ve thought Lima would be the vacation destination of the year?” Kensi asked as they squeezed into the cue.

“Apparently everyone.” Deeks grunted as a woman carrying a small dog elbowed him in the ribs.

It took another hour for them to get to the counter. The attendant looked harried and exhausted but she smiled at them anyway. “Hello how can I help you?”

“Well my wife and I here, we were on the flight to Lima and we didn’t exactly end up in Lima,” Deeks told her.

“What’s your last name?”

Deeks gave her all the relevant information and she spent a good five minutes clicking away on her keyboard. “All right Mr. and Mrs. Deeks, I can book you on a 5:00pm flight,” she said brightly.

Kensi checked her watch. Two hours from now. Perfect. They would only miss about half a day.

“Let me just confirm the details one more time,” the gate attendant said. “That’s two tickets for Mr. Martin Deeks and Mrs. Kensi Deeks on the 5:00pm flight that leaves Monday, June 17.”

Deeks blinked at her. “I’m sorry, did you say Monday?”

“Yes that’s when the next available flight with two seats is.”

“But it’s Friday.”

“Yes.”

“Monday at 5:00 is like, three full days from now.”

“Yes sir.”

Deeks looked at Kensi. “You have no flights available between now and Monday at 5:00pm?”

“I’m sorry, no. The airline will be able to compensate you for three night’s stay at a Jacksonville hotel on this list.” She handed them a laminated piece of paper. “Air Peru apologizes for the inconvenience.”

“This is unbelievable,” Kensi said, trying to reign in her frustration. She knew it wasn’t this airline employee’s fault, but she hadn’t waited six months for her honeymoon to spend half of it in Jacksonville.

“We could try another airline,” Deeks offered as they stepped away from the counter.

“And pay for another pair of tickets?” Kensi asked. “That’s not going to leave you much for guinea pig sandwiches.”

“Call Hetty?”

“I don’t want to bother her,” Kensi said.

“Then…I guess we just wait it out? There must be something fun to do around here for a few days.”

“Fine. Let’s just get to the hotel and find some dinner.”

Deeks stepped back to the counter. “Hi, okay, so we’re going to stay at the Best Western.”

She tapped her keyboard. “I’m sorry sir that hotel is booked.”

“Completely?”

“Yes.”

Deeks took a breath and tried to remain calm. “What about the La Quinta?”

She tapped away. “Also booked.”

“Okay, is there a hotel on this list that isn’t fully booked?”

She typed for a long time. “Yes, Manny’s Inn and Casino has one room available.”

“Manny’s Inn and Casino. Of course,” Deeks said, feeling his shoulders growing more tense by the second. “I guess we’ll take it.”

“Excellent. If you could just give me your information.”

Deeks proceeded to repeat all the information he’d given her five minutes prior and half an hour later they were in an Uber on their way to the hotel. “Gonna do a little gambling tonight?” their driver asked.

“I don’t think so,” Kensi told him drily.

The Uber was one of those little, electric cars so they were both crammed into the backseat with their backpacks. The driver zipped through traffic like laws didn’t apply and Deeks wondered if they would even make it to the hotel alive.

“What are you doing in Jacksonville?” the driver asked, clearly not picking up on their “don��t talk to me” signals..

“It’s our honeymoon,” Deeks said. “We’re on the way to Lima.”

“Ooooh your honeymoon! Congratulations!” He frowned. “But you’re going to Lima? That doesn’t seem too romantic.”

“We’re the adventurous type,” Deeks said when it became apparent that Kensi wasn’t in a talking mood with her knees by her ears.

“Oh I see, I see. Well make sure you make the most of your time here in Jacksonville before you go if you know what I mean. Can’t imagine you could get up to much hanky panky all the way down there.” He chuckled and Kensi rolled her eyes.

He continued to chat all the way to their hotel. By the time they arrived the Deeks’ knew more about crawfish boils, gators, and illegal moonshine than they could ever have wanted to. “Thanks,” Deeks said as he paid while Kensi walked inside with their bags.

“Hey, listen,” the driver handed him a coupon. “Take the missus somewhere nice tonight. This is my brother’s place, Al’s Crab Shack. They do the best seafood this side of the Atlantic! They’ll treat you right!”

Deeks took the crumpled and slightly greasy coupon. “Good to know.”

“Good luck!” he hollered and then floored it out of the parking lot.

The hotel was worse than Deeks could have imagined. It looked like an adult entertainment store had mated with an arcade and then eaten a lot of tuna fish. Kensi was standing at the desk, her face resigned to the fact that this vacation was turning out to be yet another disaster.

“Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Deeks,” the desk clerk said in a monotone voice. “In your welcome packet you will find your room keys, a voucher good for half off one drink with purchase of three drinks at the hotel bar, and a pricing guide for the wifi. The hotel casino is twenty-four hours. Have a good stay.”

“There’s a pricing guide for the wifi?” Deeks asked as they walked to the elevator.

“Apparently ‘all-inclusive’ isn’t in their vocabulary,” Kensi said.

They opened their room door and Deeks snorted. “Of course it’s twin beds.”

“Of course,” Kensi said, dropping her pack onto the one nearest the door.

Deeks came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “It just means we can cuddle.”

She turned to face him. “Maybe we should go home.”

“And miss out on the honeymoon adventure of a lifetime? C’mon Kens! What’s a little delayed flight and crappy motel room got on us? For better or for worse right?”

“Yeah I didn’t think that part of our vows meant our honeymoon was going to be the worse.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “It won’t be. You and me baby. We’ve got this.”

She sighed. “All right. Let’s stay. But you need to feed me like right now before I change my mind.”

“Done!”

It turned out that while Al’s might not exactly live up to its reputation as the “best” seafood on the east coast, it was the only place within walking distance of their hotel. “Oh my god,” Deeks’ eyes grew huge as they walked inside. “Okay, new aesthetic for the bar.”

The walls were covered in paraphernalia that had been reclaimed from the ocean. Crab pots, tackle boxes, paddles, and a wide variety of mounted fish were on display for all to see.

“You already have one fish. I don’t think we need anymore,” Kensi said as they settled into their table.

“But what if he gets lonely? Maybe he needs a fishy girlfriend to keep him company,” Deeks said, indicating a large bass that had a pink bow on top.

“Howdy everyone and welcome to Al’s Crab Shack,” their server said. “My name is George and I will be your server tonight. Would you like to hear about our specials?”

“We would love to hear about the specials George,” Deeks said, in his element as he watched his bride’s obvious distaste.

“For our appetizer this evening we have a deep fried cheese stick, deep fried shrimp, deep fried jalapeño popper platter. Very popular with the large groups. Our dinners tonight are the twice fried crab legs and our deep fried cheeseburger with deep fried cheese topping. These are both served with our triple fried potato chips. Would you like to order now?”

“I think we need a minute,” Kensi said and he moved on to help a retired couple who couldn’t read the menu or hear very well judging from how loudly George was speaking to them. “Is there anything on this menu that’s been fried less than twice?”

“This is the deep south babe. Fried is what they do best.”

“I’ll bet the hospitals make a killing on heart attacks.”

George returned. “Are you ready to order?”

“Yes,” Deeks straightened his menu. “I will have the deep fried seafood platter with a side of the deep fried fries.”

“Excellent choice. One of our most popular items. And for you ma’am?”

Kensi wrinkled her nose. “I guess I’ll have the deep fried salad? Any chance you can hold the deep fried?”

“Ma’am all of our items come fully prepared and frozen for maximum freshness and quality so no, we cannot hold the deep fried.”

“Okay then.” Kensi watched him walk away. “I’m not sure we should eat here.”

“Look babe, this place is packed! The food must be good.”

The food was not good. Kensi picked at her salad trying to find the freshest bits while Deeks chewed through four crab legs, six shrimp, two pieces of cod, and entire plate of french fries. “It’s like I’m back in college,” he said between bites.

“You ate like this in college?”

“You’re telling me, KayKay Blye, queen of the junk food, didn’t partake in the occasional fried food binge in the dining hall cafeteria?”

“Not like this.”

“Liar. If they had a deep fried Twinkie on this menu you would be all over it.”

“Yes, one Twinkie would be fine. You’re eating a coronary on a plate.”

“What a way to go.”

Kensi rolled her eyes.

She hopped in the shower when they got back and when she was done Deeks hopped her. “Deeks, these are twin beds,” she gasped as he kissed her neck. “There’s not enough room.”

“Think of it as a challenge,” he said with a grin, his hands sliding down her thighs in a way that made her shiver.

There were a few more minutes of making out and then Deeks sat up, a little breathless as he stripped off his shirt. Kensi caught a glimpse of his face and she frowned. “Babe are you okay?”

He was sweaty and pale and even a little green, but maybe that was just the lighting. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah I’m great.”

He definitely seemed great for the next two hours. Maybe being trapped in Jacksonville wasn’t so bad after all.

#NCIS LA #Densi #Densi Fanfiction #Densi Summer Vacation #The Honeymooners #Chapter 2 #Kensi Blye #Marty Deeks #Till Death Do Us Part #Jacksonville #Kensi Blye Fanfic #Marty Deeks Fanfic #NCIS Los Angeles

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asupernaturalgirl · 6 years

Text

Back to Hunting: Part 2

A/N: Woohoo! I’m really pleased with the feedback from the first part and so I think I’ll continue writing. I’ll try to post 1-2 per week, but for right now there really is no schedule. I hope you guys enjoy this part!

Description: Y/N has been out of the hunting life for many years, but after a run in with a supernatural creature, she’s forced to call some boys she hasn’t seen in a while. The Winchesters.

Warnings: trashy motels (and everything that comes with that), financial issues, car problems.

Winter in Wisconsin was never easy, but somehow, walking out in that cold weather to get to your car was even worse at the moment. Knowing you were completely alone, no dog, no family left, sent chills up your spine in the first place. The chilling wind was not making it any better. Sticking the key into the ignition, you turn it and the car rumbles a few times, unhappy to start in the freezing climate. It was a piece of crap anyway. The only thing you could afford. This was not the time for it to be testing you, but it proves you wrong when the engine finally comes to life and you can relax.

You know where to go, having pictured it in your mind. There was an old motel just a few miles outside of town. It seemed to be made for prostitutes and tractor trailer drivers, but it was nothing you weren’t used to. Just like Sam and Dean, you’d almost grown up in motel rooms like that, too young to follow your father on difficult hunts. You followed the road by memory, not remembering what the exact name of the place was.

Just ahead, you could see the red flashing sign in front of the raggedy building. When you saw the name “The Red Barn,” you cursed yourself for ever forgetting it. The idea of the name was completely random though, as nothing on the motel was red or looked like a barn. You pulled into a parking spot and grabbed your phone from the book bag next to you, creating a contact for Dean Winchester and beginning to type out you text for him. “Motel is called The Red Barn. It’s in Platteville, Wisconsin.”

You stuff your phone in your pocket and climb out of the car, throwing the book bag over your shoulder and making your way into the small office in the front. An old woman who looked like she could fall over dead at any moment sat at the desk, writing something in an old book. She looked up as the bell over the door rang. Her face was grim and she didn’t greet you in any way. “What do you need?”

“Can I have a two twin bed room for 2 nights?” You asked. It made since for now to book the room for two days. If more time was needed, you could buy it later on. You also wanted two beds for the boys when they got here. If you needed to, you’d sleep on the floor. It was a big favor of them to come help you and you wanted to pay them back.

She snatched your credit card out of your hand and swiped it into a machine, pushing a few buttons before standing slowly and grabbing an old key from the cabinet behind her. “Your in room 130.”

“Thanks,” You groan, taking the key and leaving the smoky office. You hated how familiar this felt. It was almost like going home. For some reason, you’d expected it to feel more unnatural, like you’d forgotten what those 18 years of your life was like.

While you were no longer a hunter making absolutely no money, a starting receptionist in small town Wisconsin didn’t make much more than one, so even though you would have loved to stay in a Holiday Inn, this was still all you could afford. As you approached your room, you stuck the key in and opened the door to the strong smell of cigarettes and booze. The sheets in the room were outdated and faded and the wallpaper was brown, but seemed to have been white at some point. It was disgusting, but you had no other choice.

You throw your things on the bed and sit down, burying your face in your hands. How could this have happened to you once again? There were people who went their entire lives without knowing about the Supernatural but you somehow seemed to be some sort of magnet to it. Now your dog was dead and you were forced back in.

Tears pricked at your eyes and you let out a cry, trying to wipe the wet drops from your eyes before they even existed them, to no avail. You needed to keep your mind busy, doing something. It was 8 o’clock at night, but you didn’t want to settle down yet. Instead, you decided it would be best to go to the grocery store and pick up some food for the brother when they got to the motel.

You start the car once again and pull out of the old parking lot, making your way to the local grocery store where you would try to guess what the brothers ate these days and picked up the one thing you were sure of. A hunter loves beer and you happened to know these boys were no exception to that rule.

…

A loud knock at the door startles you awake, your heart beating quickly. Disoriented, you turn to alarm clock to see that it was just past 4 in the morning. You groan slightly and sit up, wiping the sleep from your eyes and pushing your feet over the side of the bed. Your back aches from the cheap mattress and your hair was a complete mess. Somehow you’d forgotten what had happened yesterday and it took you a full minute to piece the events back together in your mind. Suddenly, it occured to you that the Winchesters were here and you jumped up, rushing to open the door.

You couldn’t help but smile as you took in the Winchester brothers and all their glory. The boys stood there, smiles on their faces as well. “I’m sorry I look so bad, guys. I completely forgot to set an alarm last night. Didn’t know what time you all would get in.”

They seemed to have grown to the height of two full humans stacked on top of each other from the last time you saw them. Both the brothers were older than you, but you can still remember how young Sam was the last time you saw him. He was in college the last time you’d spoken, happy to get out of the life just like you. Dean hadn’t changed much other than a few more lines on his face. He looked more like a grown man. While you’d always found him handsome, he was even more so now than ever.

Sam steps forward and gives you a side hug. “We don’t care. It’s good to see you, Y/N. We were surprised to hear from you.”

Before you can answer, Dean pulls you in for a hug as well. You could feel his strong arms around you as he patted your back slightly. “Long time now see, Y/L/N. Shouldn’t have gone this long without talking.”

“Yeah,” You pull your hair back in a ponytail as you pull back from Dean. You step aside to let them in. “I didn’t want anything to do with the life anymore. I was done with it. Everything was almost normal again, until this happened. Didn’t even want to accept that I had to call you for something.”

Dean and Sam set their bags on the ground and cross their arms over their chest, watching you explain. “You got rid of all your stuff?”

“It had been years since I even heard from someone in the life. I thought I would be fine. I figured once I left, it would leave me,” You shrug your shoulders and roll your eyes. “I should have been less stupid as a former hunter.”

Dean and Sam both furrow their brows and shake their heads. Sam speaks up. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. You chose to leave, you get to throw away the stuff. We’re hunters for a reason. We help people when they can’t do it themselves. And sometimes when they can.”

You nod your head and look down to the ground at your toes. “It just happened so fast. I worked quickly but by the time I got out in the yard, the dog was already dead. It was just so quick, I couldn’t even save him. He was so solid, but warm. It was like he was paralyzed.”

Dean and Sam both bite their lips and look at each other, a brotherly look. Sam pulled out his computer and began to type in some things on a search engine. Dean turned to me. “Are you okay?”

“Me?”

He nodded and you shrugged your shoulders. It had been a while since anyone had asked you that and you weren’t used to the question. “Yeah, I guess so. Charlie was all I had but he’s a dog. I can only get so upset.”

He bit his lip and gave you a slightly smile before clapping his hands together. “So, we’ll need to get back to your house and check everything out. Do you want to lead us there in your car and I’ll follow in Baby?”

“Baby?” You questioned, furrowing your eyebrows.

Sam gave you a look that said, “Don’t ask,” but Dean seemed to be quite offended. “I know you remember those nights driving home in the Impala, Y/N. She’s mine now. And she’s still a beaut.”

You chuckled lightly and shook your head in disbelief. “You really are something, Winchester. You guys can follow me.”

Both the brothers walked out of the door with you and you locked it behind, turning to your car. Dean and Sam moved to the old Impala you knew so well and you tried to start the car, only to have it stall once again. Groaning loudly, you bang your hands against the steering wheel and attempt to start it again, to no avail. Dean looks over before getting out of his car. Your face blushed furiously, embarrassed your car was taking this time not to start. You didn’t want them to know you were this bad off. Making minimum wage wasn’t easy on your transportation situation.

Dean walks to your side and opens the door, his brows furrowed as Sam gets out of the Impala as well. “What’s going on with the car?”

“She’s got a mind of her own sometimes, doesn’t like to start when I really need her,” You get out and pop the hood. You knew absolutely nothing about cars in general and didn’t even know what could be the issue.

“That can’t be safe, Y/N. You live on your own in a town where you don’t know anyone else. If your car stalled out or wouldn’t start, you’d be stranded. Have you taken it to a mechanic?” Sam asks, concern in his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

“No,” You admit, trying not to make eye contact with the brothers for the moment.

“Why not?” Dean asked, looking in the engine for anything he could see outright without having to search around.

“I work as a receptionist in small town Wisconsin. I’m not afforded such luxuries,” You smiled, embarrassed. Both the brothers looked at you for a moment, surprise you just admitted your financial struggles. You hated the look of pity on Sam’s face. He was planning on going to law school the last time you’d spoke. He was the people you worked for.

“Well, lucky for you, Dean Winchester happens to be a guy who knows a lot about cars and I’ve got a flat rate for any fix,” He grabbed your key out of your hand and opened the driver’s door, getting in and attempting to turn the key. “A beer.”

You’d remembered this about Dean. He’d always been generous to people that he knew and cared about. If they were friends of family or family in general, he was always there to help them and this was no exception. “Dean, you don’t have to do this. I’ve been saving up some money to get it fixed.”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about it,” He said, not even bothering to look at you as he started down at the dashboard. He turned the key a few more times, but nothing happened. Realization crossed his face. “It’s a bad alternator. We can get it fairly cheap online and have it here by the time were finished with the case.”

His generosity almost brought tears to your eyes and you gave him your most sincere smile. “Thank you, Dean. This means so much.”

“Don’t sweat it,” He shrugged his shoulders and got out of the car, locking the door behind him. “Climb into baby and you can just tell me where to turn. Let’s get this show on the road.”

#supernatural #supernatural imagines #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural one shots #dean winchester #dean #dean x reader #dean x you #sam #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam x you #fandom #one shots #imagines

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