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priestessofspiders · 2 years

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Project Tuatara

In the winter of 1970, a top secret military experiment was conducted in the Arizona desert. Nearly all records of this project have been destroyed, and what little documentation does survive is frustratingly vague. All that can be gleaned from official documents is that the project was run by a Dr. Edward Gardner, and three conscripts were pulled out of basic training to serve as test subjects. The goal of the experiment cannot be verified from the few remaining official papers, but the code name was determined: Project Tuatara.

The only surviving test subject was tracked down to a retirement home in southern California. In order to protect his privacy, this man shall be referred to by the moniker of "Brian Jameson", and the retirement home he currently resides in will be left unnamed. What follows is Mr. Jameson's recollection of events, transcribed from an audio recording.

Statement of Brian Jameson, regarding his involvement with Project Tuatara

I'm only telling you all this because I'm getting old. I can feel death coming like a fog rolling in. I don't know how much time I have left. Project Tuatara was a tragedy which must never be repeated. Its story needs to be told.

In late 1969 I was drafted to fight in the Vietnam war. I didn't want to fight, I'm not a violent man, but I passed all the necessary tests and I couldn't afford to go to prison, it would ruin me for the rest of my life. So I got sent to bootcamp. I was 7 weeks into basic training when the eggheads showed up.

Three men in crisp white lab coats came into the barracks, escorted by armed guards. The drill sergeant told us to obey what they told us. One at a time we were called by name. The man who was called for would be escorted out of the room and come back a bit later, usually looking slightly perplexed before standing back at attention.

My name was called next, and I followed the eggheads and a guard out of the room. I was taken to a small office, and one of the scientists pulled out a pack of playing cards. I raised an eyebrow, understanding now why the other conscripts were confused.

The scientist pulled out a card and held it up in front of him, back facing towards me so I couldn't see which one it was. "Mr. Jameson", he said, calmly, "can you please tell me which card I am holding up?"

Now, I'd always had this special gift, I was excellent at guessing things I shouldn't have any ability to know. It wasn't perfect, and I had to focus quite a bit, but if you asked me to guess a card or tell whether a coin will flip heads or tails, I'd usually get it right. I don't know how or why, its not like I got a glimpse of the future or had some superhuman ability to calculate probability, it just came to me, like someone put the knowledge directly in my brain. It didn't work with gambling though, there's too many factors there, it made me feel like I was trying to listen in on a conversation from across the room. I figured that out the hard way after I lost nearly my whole paycheck at a casino.

So I gave my answer, I think it was the king of spades. The scientist looked mildly surprised, and pulled out another card, asking me the same question. Then another. And another. This went on for some time, before he put the cards back in his pocket. He motioned for me to follow, and so I did. Except, I didn't get taken back to the barracks. I was taken to a truck and told to sit. The scientist went back inside, and a guard brought in a small bag with what few personal belongings I had at the base. After about an hour more of waiting, the scientists came back and the truck headed off.

After a bit of driving and a plane flight, I found myself down in Arizona, at a base called Fort Johnston. I was escorted to my living quarters and was pleasantly surprised. Far from the dingy, crowded barracks I'd grown accustomed to over the past 7 weeks, I now essentially had my own hotel room. Sure it was small, and the furniture was barebones, but it felt like heaven compared to basic training. It was much more private, aside from the security camera in the corner of the room. I was given some food and a bit of time to sleep. In the morning, I was awoken to a rapping on the door. I got up quickly and answered it. The guard on the other end told me gruffly "Dr. Gardner wishes to see you."

I was escorted through a maze of hallways into a brightly lit office. Anatomical diagrams of the human brain and pieces of psychedelic artwork hung all over the walls, and behind an expensive looking mahogany desk sat a man I would come to fear for the rest of my life.. "Sit down, Mr. Jameson", he said, smiling politely as he gestured towards a chair in front of him. "My name is Dr. Gardner. I'm sure you're wondering why you're here."

Gardner was a handsome man, perhaps in his 40s or 50s. He had prominent cheekbones and a widow's peak of gray hair. He seemed sincere enough, but there was a subtle undercurrent of menace in his voice, something that made me intensely uneasy.

Slightly nervous, I swallowed before saying, "Yes sir, I haven't really been told any reason why I'm all the way out here."

Gardner chuckled softly, interlacing his fingers and looking intently at me. "You have a very special gift Mr. Jameson. Very special indeed. I'd say you're one in a million, at least. We've only managed to find two other espers with your talents." I blinked, confused. "Espers?" Gardner closed his eyes and shook his head, smiling to himself. "My apologies Mr. Jameson, I sometimes forget how specialized my field of study is. It is an acronym. E-S-P-ers, or those who possess extrasensory perception. To use a more colloquial term; psychics." I burst out laughing, I couldn't help it. Though his expression didn't change, I could see something harden in Dr. Gardner's eyes, so I tried to calm down. "I'm sorry doc, I think you've got the wrong guy. I'm just a little bit lucky is all." With a slightly more serious tone, Gardner said "I don't make mistakes Mr. Jameson, and neither, seemingly, do you. Out of the 20 cards we had you 'guess', do you know how many you got incorrect?" I shook my head. "None. Every single card was guessed correctly." I was silent, not knowing what to say. Dr. Gardner continued talking, not giving me time to respond.

"Approximately one percent of human beings possess some level of extrasensory perception, though usually it only comes in brief flashes. Of those one percent, only a further one percent are capable of using ESP consistently. And of that one percent, only one percent get anything more than vague ideas, like telling if a card is black or red. Do you have any idea how absurdly rare someone with your talents is Mr. Jameson? The odds are astronomically against you." "You're making it sound like some sort of superpower." I muttered, starting to sweat a little.

At this, Gardner laughed uproariously, almost doubling over in his chair. After he'd calmed down a bit, he wiped a tear from his eye and said, "I wouldn't call it a superpower Mr. Jameson, at least not yet."

He stood up, striding over to one of the anatomical posters and pointing at a small, pea-sized object located roughly in the center of the brain. "Do you know what this part of the brain is for?" I shook my head. Gardner threw his hands in the air laughing. "Neither do I! At least, not precisely. It is called the pineal gland, and it has been the subject of some debate for centuries. Rene Descartes thought it to be the seat of the human soul, and both George Batailles and Helena Blavatsky referred to it as a third eye. I believe that this tiny gland is in fact the vestigial remnant of some form of extrasensory organ, one which allows for the development of psychic abilities." I nodded nervously, becoming concerned as to what I was getting involved in. "And uh, where do I fit into this doc?" He paused for a moment, staring at me. His eyes seemed hungry, predatory, like I was just a choice piece of meat. A second later, the look was gone. "Why, we're going to try to stimulate your pineal gland young man. If the pineal gland is, in most people, a vestigial organ, then with you it must be at least half functioning. I believe that with the proper help, we can activate it fully, allowing you full access to telepathy, telekinesis, precognition, all sorts of things! Why, if all goes to plan you could gain powers man has never even dreamed of!" I sat there, thinking for a few seconds. I asked, "And what if I refuse? To go through with the experiment I mean." Dr. Gardner leaned over me, still smiling. He must have been at least 6'6". "Well, the infantry always needs more fodder for the meat grinder, don't they?" He slid a non-disclosure agreement across the desk towards me.

I signed it on the spot.

The next few days passed in a blur. I was given x-rays, physical examinations, blood tests, placed into sensory deprivation tanks with electrodes on my temples, the works. I felt like I was a lab rat. During this time I met the other two test subjects, Robert Stetson and Hank Dillinger.

Stetson was a mountain of a man, over 200 pounds of muscle. Before he was drafted he was employed as a construction worker, and it showed. Despite his immense size, he was a bit shy and very polite. He kept mostly to himself, and spoke softly. I got the feeling that he was nervous about the whole situation.

Dillinger, in contrast, was very small. I have no idea how he made it past the weight and height requirements, he must have been 5 feet tall at the most, and thin as a board. He talked a lot, mainly just to hear himself I think. If there were any worries or doubts in Dillinger's mind, he certainly didn't show it. Dillinger often talked about how he was going to be a "superhero", and that once he was done with the project he would be some sort of famous celebrity. I envied his naivete.

The eggheads started giving us pills after they'd figured out all our vitals. Little white lozenges, with no markings or anything like that. They never told us what the damn drug was, just made sure that we took it regularly.

It was Stetson who started complaining first, about a week and a half after we started taking the little white pills. We were eating our physician prescribed dinner in the cafeteria, lots of fruits and vegetables, when Stetson put down his fork and looked over at Dillinger and I, solemnly.

"What's that matter big guy, this rabbit food not filling enough for you?" said Dillinger, twirling a piece of lettuce on his fork.

"I wanted to ask you two something, but it might sound a bit... strange." There was hesitancy in Stetson's voice, he seemed worried that we would laugh at him. "Hey as long as you're not gonna propose to us I think we'll keep an open mind," Dillinger quipped, giggling to himself. I punched him on the shoulder slightly, shooting him a cold look.

Stetson's sober expression didn't change, and he spoke softly. "Have either of you been hearing things?" I leaned closer. "What kind of things Stetson?" He sighed, sagging a little bit. I noticed dark bags under his eyes. "I don't really know how to put it into words." he murmured, "Its like whispering in my ears, it gets louder whenever I'm near people, and quieter when I'm alone. To be honest I've been worried I'm going nuts"

We were all quiet for a few seconds, just looking at each other. I don't think either of us quite knew what to say. I spoke up first. "Have you talked to the doc about this Stetson? Maybe its some sort of side effect of the pills he should know about." Stetson shook his head. "I haven't told him. I have this feeling that it might not be a side effect at all. I'm worried this is what is supposed to happen. Maybe this is just the first step." Dillinger and I looked at each other nervously before changing the subject. We finished our meal without mentioning the voices, and left to go to bed. I was just about to fall asleep when I started hearing them too.

They were quiet, barely audible, like wind rustling through the breeze. I couldn't even make out specific words, just a faint buzzing. It was almost soothing in some ways, but the fear that I was losing my grip on reality kept me awake for the rest of the night. I went to tell Dr. Gardner what was happening first thing in the morning. I was scared something had gone wrong, that I was having a bad interaction with the drug. As I walked through the halls to his office, I could hear the voices getting louder whenever I passed near people, like how TV static begins to form into coherent images as you adjust the antenna.

Dr. Gardner greeted me with a wide smile as I entered the office. "Ah, Mr. Jameson, what can I do for you?" he asked cheerfully. "Doc, I'm worried that there could be something wrong with the pills I've been taking. I keep hearing these faint voices, its like constant buzzing in my head." I sat down in a chair, rubbing my temples. I was beginning to feel nauseous from the constant white noise and lack of sleep. Dr. Gardner immediately rushed over to me, examining me like an amoeba in a petri dish. "Voices? What do they say? When did this start?" I winced as he shone a flashlight in my face to test my eye's dilation. "I don't know, they're too quiet and too many to make out words. I only started hearing them last night, but Stetson told me he was hearing them yesterday." Dr. Gardner's face hardened as he flicked off the flashlight. All of his joviality and excitement seemed gone, replaced with anger. "Stetson's been hearing things too? Why didn't he inform me immediately?" I started to answer, but I was cut off. "That stupid, idiotic neanderthal! Doesn't he know what we're doing here? What I'm doing here? We are on the verge of the greatest scientific development since the discovery of fire and this moronic lummox won't tell his damn doctor what is happening?" Dr. Gardner was nearly shrieking. He had stopped examining me and was now pacing around the room like a caged tiger.

I sat completely still, feeling like I was going to vomit. There was a strange tingling that felt like it was coming from inside my head. The voices I heard were still cacophonous, but through the chaos I could hear the faintest hint of a distinct voice. I could hear Dr. Gardner, echoing in my head just as I could hear him across the room. "Doc, I think- I think I'm hearing your thoughts." Cutting himself off from his ranting, Dr. Gardner rapidly crossed the room, staring at me intensely. "What did you say?" I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Just now, when you were angry, I heard a voice louder than the others. I couldn't make out what it was saying but it sounded like you."

The excited smile returned to Dr. Gardner's face as he continued to stare. "Excellent," he said, "now we can move on to the next stage." After giving me some water and sleeping pills, Dr. Gardner sent me back to my room to get some rest. With the help of the pills, I was able to fall asleep fairly quickly, despite the voices. I woke up a few hours later to knocking on my door, it was a scientist bringing me a tray of food, along with a pair of the white pills. "Your dosage has gone up," she said, handing me a glass of water, "you will be taking 2 pills a day from now on." I did as I was told, swallowing the pills and eating my food. The constant murmur of voices made it hard to be rebellious. After my meal I fell asleep again. The next several days are difficult to remember. I couldn't think due to the constant sounds of other peoples' thoughts, I had to take sleeping pills to get rest which made me constantly feel drowsy, and I started to get a horrible migraine at nearly all times.

It was during a physical examination that I had the seizure. One minute I was having my reflexes tested and then suddenly I was on the floor, writhing uncontrollably. I remember smelling something metallic and my vision being filled with strange lights. The voices in my head were getting louder, more difficult to ignore. Eventually, I blacked out. When I came to I was in the infirmary with gauze wrapped around my head. I started trying to move, to remove the bandages, but I felt an orderly hold me down and the sharp pinch of a needle entering my arm. But as I struggled against my bonds, I remember hearing something very clearly: an oddly distinct voice saying "Goddammit, he must not have been given enough sedatives."

The next time I woke up, the bandages were off, aside from a small piece of gauze between my eye.. After realizing I was awake, a nurse brought in Dr. Gardner. He sat next to the bed and smiled insincerely, his eyes blazing with curiosity. "How are you feeling, Mr. Jameson?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, and I heard him say "It's possible that the trepanation may have improved his abilities." "What's trepanation?" I asked, confused as to why he was talking as if I wasn't in the room.

Dr. Gardner looked surprised. "Why do you ask?" Immediately after, I heard his voice say "He shouldn't know about the trepanation yet, he's just woken up. Maybe he heard someone talk about it while he was in and out of consciousness." But even as I heard Dr. Gardner voice say those words, I realized his lips were not moving. "You thought about it. You thought something about it improving my abilities." Dr. Gardner looked astonished. "You can hear my thoughts? How do you perceive them? Are they images or sounds? How clear are they? Are there different levels of consciousness or just one you are able to perceive?" Even as he spoke aloud, I could also hear his mind racing, coming up with dozens of more questions and theories. It was a little overwhelming, but not painful anymore, not like it was before.

"Slow down, please doctor," I pleaded, "it is difficult to focus with you asking so many questions while also thinking so fast. And please, tell me, what is trepanation?" Gardner took a deep breath. "Alright. But you have to promise me to stay calm." I could hear his voice again in my head, saying "He isn't going to like this. I hope I don't need to call security." "I'll be calm," I said, "just tell me." "Trepanation is a medical procedure in which a small hole in the skull is drilled to reduce excess pressure. Your pineal gland has begun to expand rapidly, and as a result we had to drill an opening to release the excess pressure so you don't have another seizure. It is perfectly safe, and only about a half centimeter diameter was needed. The skin will regrow quickly and it will just be a very slight scar between your eyes." I jumped out of bed, trying to strangle him. I was sick and tired of being treated like a lab rat, being monitored and given drugs I wasn't told the effects of, and receiving a hole in my skull against my will was what made me snap. Immediately two orderlies rushed me and strapped me back down to the bed, a nurse gave me a sedative. "I knew you wouldn't be able to handle it," Gardner said, straightening his tie, "some people just aren't able to see the big picture. You're a lucky man Jameson, and one day you'll thank me." With that, I passed out. I was eventually discharged from the infirmary and brought back to my own room. Now in addition to the examinations for physical health I also was subject to more tests to determine the growth of my psychic abilities. I was asked to guess what someone was thinking, whether they were lying, etc. They put my "target" behind sheets of glass, steel, concrete, even lead. But every time I was still able to tell. It seemed like thought could pass through any substance. I didn't have to worry too much about getting overwhelmed by other people's thoughts either, I was now able to focus on one mind at a time, or block them all out if I wanted to. Dillinger and Stetson were involved in these experiments too. It turns out that we all suffered seizures at about the same time, and they were also trepanned. We were asked to try and carry out conversations exclusively via thought, and to try and speak out loud as little as possible to one another. It was kind of interesting, communicating via thought. There is no lying with telepathy, no emotional barriers. The once shy Stetson was suddenly incredibly talkative and friendly, while it turned out Dillinger was extremely insecure about himself, masking it with mockery and humor. We were honest with each other, and in the weeks when we developed our abilities I felt closer to them than anyone else in my entire life. Eventually we figured out how to view mental images and feel remembered sensations too, not just hear words. Dillinger told us about his childhood as the youngest of five siblings, about how hard it was growing up needing to fight for his parents' attention. I saw the grimy apartment he shared with seven others, and could smell the smog from the street below his window. Stetson told us about his passion for nature, and I could feel the wind and smell the grass as he recalled hikes through national parks.

Everything seemed to be going better. Dr. Gardner still hadn't apologized for drilling holes in our heads, but at the very least he seemed not to hold it against me for attacking him. We were constantly improving in our skills, becoming stronger. At this point we were taking 3 pills a day now. Then the incident with Dillinger happened.

We were each in our rooms, but were communicating telepathically nonetheless. Dillinger was in the middle of showing us a memory about his first pet, a kitten named Hotdog, when his pleasant recollection was shattered with thoughts of panic and terror. "What in the Hell is that?" I heard him think, fear radiating through his mind. "What is it, what do you see?" Stetson inquired, attempting to soothe him with calm thoughts. We couldn't get a clear picture of what was going on in Dillinger's mind due to the panic, so we were cut off aside from hearing what he was thinking. "It's horrible! Oh God, why is it moving like that! Is that its face? Does it even have a face? Maybe if I don't move it will go away." I could hear Dillinger's mind racing, I could feel the terror shooting through his thoughts like icy daggers.

Both Stetson and I ran out of our rooms, calling for guards to help Dillinger. He hadn't screamed, apparently he was absolutely petrified with horror. By the time we reached him, he was unconscious, but unharmed. Some of the medical staff wheeled him away in a stretcher over to the infirmary, while the guards searched his room to see if anyone or anything could be hiding there. As the guards ransacked Dillinger's quarters, I began to get this really uneasy feeling, like someone just stepped on my grave. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I felt like something was watching me. Stetson put a hand on my shoulder to calm me, and I heard his voice speak in my mind. "I feel it too."

The next day, Dillinger was still in the infirmary, nearly catatonic, but alive. He was conscious, but whenever Stetson or I tried to reach him, it was like the telepathic equivalent of radio static. The man had retreated so deeply into his mind that he'd effectively blocked us out. Dr. Gardner gathered Stetson and I in the main laboratory, somewhere we'd never been allowed access to. All of the Bunsen burners, microscopes and other scientific instruments had been moved off to the side, to make room for some strange electronic device at the center of the lab. I'd seen electroshock devices in the movies, and it looks like this thing was Frankensteined together from a couple of them, along with some other odds and ends here and there. Three chairs sat nearby, with what looked like tiaras made of circuits and electrodes sitting on top of them. The unusual headpieces were connected to the main machine by a tangled mess of wires. "Doc, you're not going to electroshock us, are you?" I asked, eyeing Dr. Gardner wearily. He smirked, but shook his head. "Not quite, Mr. Jameson. The amount of voltage will be quite low, and much more precise. This machine is designed to stimulate the pineal gland gently, which should hopefully further amplify your abilities." "Hopefully?", inquired Stetson, nervously. Dr. Gardner ignored his query, and instructed us to sit in the chairs. I hesitated at first, but then became acutely aware of the guards with rifles standing by the door. I sat down, nervous about what would happen next. Two technicians restrained us with tough leather straps, before placing the circlets of electronics on our heads, making sure that each individual part lined up perfectly.

After the technicians moved away from the machine, Dr. Gardner looked at us with a smile, his hand on a large metal lever. "You have absolutely nothing to fear, gentlemen. This shouldn't take long." With that, he pulled the switch.

Instantly I could hear a gentle humming emanate from the machine, and I felt a faint tingle on my temples. It felt rather like having a fuzzy caterpillar crawl across my forehead, not necessarily unpleasant, but an unusual sensation nonetheless. I asked Stetson, mentally "Do you feel that?" I heard him start to respond telepathically before I felt a sudden burning sensation against my skull and heard a loud crackling noise. Everything went dark for a moment, and a ringing sound filled my ears. As my vision and hearing returned, I heard one of the technicians yell "Overload!"

I could tell that my headpiece had burnt out, I didn't feel any tingling anymore. Strangely, I could no longer hear Stetson either. I saw the technicians rush over to pull us out of the chairs. One of them was quickly able to undo my straps and rip the burnt out electrodes off my head, but the other was thrown backwards upon touching Stetson with a crack like thunder. I was dragged out of the chair, startled but alive.

While I was pulled to safety, I watched as Stetson began to scream. Without anything touching him, the straps undid themselves, and he began to slowly levitate upwards, the electronic headpiece tethering him to the machine. Deep cuts appeared by themselves across his body, slashing through clothes and skin, leaving a rainfall of blood upon the cold linoleum. We all watched in stunned silence as the last of his skin and clothes were peeled away, tossed on to the floor carelessly. The muscles were next, being pulled apart like a butcher carefully slicing up a carcass. All the while he kept screaming, even after his lungs were exposed. He should have died long before then, but something was keeping him alive. After the muscles were gone came the bones, clattering to the ground, gleaming white in the fluorescent light. Then went the digestive tract, and the circulatory system. Only after the lungs fell to the floor in a wet heap did we finally cease hearing that blood curdling scream. All that remained was his central nervous system, suspended in mid air like a marionette. I could see the surface of his brain pulsate wetly, causing me to realize that even now he was still alive. There was a final, devastating crack of electricity, and the machine blew out completely. Stetson's remains slopped onto the floor, a quivering pile of nerves and gray matter. I pray that the impact finally killed him.

The next few days kind of blur together in my memory. I can't tell if its from the trauma or the mild brain damage I suffered due to the overload. I recall they tested my abilities, had me try to guess what someone was thinking of, tell what card they were holding, etc. I failed every test. Whatever I once had was gone. The shock I experienced fried my pineal gland, probably would have killed me if it wasn't already so enlarged from the medical treatments. They told me the official story I should tell was that I got wounded in combat and honorably discharged. They gave me enough money to take care of my needs for quite a long time, with the understanding that it would all go away the second the truth got out. I've long since used it up by now, and even if I hadn't I don't think I'd need it much longer, hence why I'm telling you all this. Dillinger never fully recovered. He was eventually able to regain the ability to move and eat on his own, but he never spoke a word after what he saw. He stayed in a mental institution for the rest of his life, until his eventual suicide about a couple decades back. Poor bastard.

I don't know exactly what killed Stetson or shattered Dillinger's mind, but I have a theory. Dr. Gardner said some believe the pineal gland is a third eye, what if they're right? I've done reading about higher dimensions, about parallel worlds that could coexist in the same physical space but on some higher plane. What if that is what Dillinger saw, once his pineal gland was advanced enough to function as a sensory organ? He looked upon being from another reality, overlapping with our own, so utterly alien and different from what we understand that just looking at it is enough to annihilate a man's sanity. I think that when the overload flooded Stetson's brain, it let him see fully into their world, and they pulled him apart just to see what made him tick.

As for what happened to Dr. Gardner, I don't know. In a just world, he would be tried for murder, but I know this isn't a just world. Perhaps he retired in disgrace, relying on government blood money to live out the rest of his days. I don't think so. I hope they closed down Project Tuatara, but sometimes I worry they just moved it. The advances they made were far too great to care about the harm caused to three conscripts. I sometimes lie awake at night, thinking about the possibility they could still be working on it somewhere, at an even more remote facility. If they are, I pray that they never succeed.

End of transcript

#Horror fiction #horror #horror story

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

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Any chance of getting some spicy royals content on this fine Sunday? After they’re married/during their engagement, I have a vision of them doing their events and then going back to palace and just like tearing each other’s clothes off and doing it on any and all available surfaces.

My friend, you understand the Royals vibe.

Their whole romance started because essentially they couldn't keep their hands off one another. That's not going to change when they're together, in fact, it makes it all a little worse. The young queen and her future husband are well known for probably being too in love.

Kate wasn't stupid, she knew what the entire country was saying about her when rumours of her relationship with Anthony started leaking from the palace as these things often did. And she supposed she was a good part to blame. People couldn't help but notice the Security that lined the corridor outside Anthony's flat, and really that meant there had to be someone of note inside, and there was, of course, the very public way Anthony had gone about things. It didn't take long for the rumours to start.

She called off the wedding for him

It was all arranged for publicity

The Queen Regent demanded she marry him if not Stirling

He's a traitor and so must she be.

It was vaguely amusing honestly, the idea that Mary of all people would be encouraging Kate to do anything to Anthony that wasn't punching him in the stomach. The palace PR team had practically begged her not to acknowledge Anthony publicly

"All due respect Your Highness, This will be a disaster." Jenkins had said, the bridge of his nose pinched in his fingers, barely 2 days into her relationship with Anthony,

Kate had bristled, "What are you suggesting, Mr Jenkins?"

"I'm suggesting, that publicly, Our new Queen has no consort, whatever you do in private is of course your own business."

Kate had frowned, "And what about when we get married." A small hiss escaped several people in the room and Kate had pretended not to see the way Mary stiffened beside her, plowing ahead. "Surely eventually I'll have to marry someone, what do you suggest then?"

And no one had really seemed to have an answer for her, which of course meant the answer was clear.

Hopefully you'll come to your senses before then!

But it hadn't been necessary in the end. Sophie had sent them to a primary school, and aided by a rather adorable Hyacinth Bridgerton, Kate and Anthony (Kathony as they'd been dubbed) had emerged as they country's new it couple. Requests poured in for comment, the were star crossed lovers people that certainly weren't supposed t fall in love but couldn't resist the pull. And allegedly, everyone could see it. Just from the way they looked at one another.

It seemed every day in those first few months blurry pictures emerged of them, Anthony's head resting on her shoulder on a street corner, Kate's legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her through the garden on his back, Anthony crowding her against a tree their lips nearly touching. It was relentless, and rather than sullying the image of the royal family, it seemed to make public opinion soar. Yes, their new queen was young, beautiful, and very much besotted with her grouchy boyfriend. It really was quite the narrative, and not very far from the truth. Before long reports of them slipping away at public events seemed to emerge, and this the palace could not abide.

"Kate, please, please do not sneak out of this event." Sophie was practically begging, looking sternly between her and Anthony. "I mean it, "I get it, you just got engaged, and it's adorable that you're so happy but Can we stay to the end of one event this month?"

"Ahh Sophie, when you look this good, lady's are bound to drag you behind a topiary animal for a quickie." Anthony had said, with that insufferable smirk on his face."

Kate had scoffed. "Won't be a problem, Sophie, Anthony won't be getting any for a while."

As it turns out, it was a problem. Before they'd even left the palace Kate was warm. Anthony had been sitting in the small living area attached to her suite by the time her styling team had finished flitting around her, and honestly, the sight of him made her mouth go dry.

He was wearing a light grey suit, the waistcoat of which had a light checked pattern through it, cut tightly across his broad shoulders, his red tie and pocket square in stark contrast. She didn't really need to look at them, she'd known before she even walked in what colour they would be, they always matched, Anthony insisted upon it. Insisted on her crest being neatly embroidered into them, and it was a little unflattering but it aways sent a little possessive thrill through her.

She'd cleared her throat and he'd looked up from his phone, smile already in place though it turned just slightly predatory at the sight of her.

"Well, well, your majesty, don't you look lovely this evening?" His fingertips had trailed over her bare back a little delightfully.

Kate had scoffed, her cheeks burning, "we promised hands to ourselves tonight."

Anthony laughed, "There's almost no way you're going to be able to manage that, Darling. I look delectable this evening."

God his arrogance was startling, even if he wasn't far off the mark. "You look average."

He wasn't deterred. "I'll make you a deal, Princess" She'd been the queen for months but he still called her by her original title, his eyes shining at her. "If we stay until 11:30, I'll give you a reward."

A shiver had run down her spine as she'd thought about last night when he'd bent her over the back of the sofa, his hands hot against her. "Won't be a problem. Prepare to get on your knees for me."

"It would be my pleasure."

By the time they'd been there an hour, Kate was struggling, Anthony's hand was hot on her back, his eyes burning into hers as he laughed and smiled, his glasses shining in the dim lighting, and it didn't help that she was sure the air conditioning was broken.

And he wouldn't leave her alone. Usually at these events after a while they were tugged in different directions, mingling with this lord and that, as directed by their teams. But tonight Anthony shrugged off all of his instructions, keeping his arm like a vice around her, the smell of his cologne a little overwhelming, his deep voice rumbling through the both of them, his finger tapping his watch every time her own hand slipped under his jacket or to the edge of his trousers, a stupid smirk on his face. God he was absolutely unbearable, and she wanted him so fucking much, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Her eyes didn't leave his watch from 11:28, counting down the seconds as they slipped by, clearing her throat as soon as 11:30 ticked around.

"Can you have the car brought around Steve?"

Anthony's smirk intensified into something like a wolfish grin as they waved once more to the assembled party before they slipped out the side doors.

"Well, Your majesty, very impressive restraint shown tonight." his voice was like gravel in her ear, both hands on her waist now, one on either side, his teeth already nipping at her neck, it was all she could do not to groan loudly.

As soon as the car door was opened, Kate had tugged Anthony inside, her hand wrapped around his tie, his hips bucking against her at the sharp tug she gave it.

"What are you doing?" Her own voice was rough as Anthony attempted to settle into the seat beside her, his eyebrows raised.

"Sitting down so we can go home and fuck?" There was something so innocent about the way he said it, that made her heart flutter with love for him, his hand fiddling nervously with his glasses.

Kate clucked her tongue, tugging on his tie until his knees were resting on the floor of the limousine in front of her. "But we have such a long drive home, Lord Bridgerton, you better get to work."

Anthony's eyes darkened immediately, his hands tugging roughly at the hem of her dress, calming as he slipped underneath it, his lips trailing up her thighs, hands forcing her legs apart.

"Fucking hell I wanted to crawl under this dress the minute I saw you, wanted to do it right there in that fucking room again."

Kate tried to force her voice into something like nonchalance, failing miserably as she shifted her hips a little desperately "Well it would have certainly given the Lords something to tut about, you know how they like that."

His chuckle was slight muffled through the layers of her dress. "They're just jealous, they don't get to have you."

And then his mouth started moving over her, hard and relentless, and fuck she couldn't breathe. The privacy partition was thankfully already up as it always was on the way home from events, but still, Kate knew the driver, and Steve who always rode in the front of her car could hear her, and there was something oddly thrilling about it. Oddly thrilling about the obscene noises that were pulled from her chest, about the soft sound of Anthony's mouth on her, the soft moans falling from his lips at the taste of her, his voice coaxing against her.

"That's it, Kate, you've been such a good girl for Daddy."

Her eyes rolled back in her head, unable to help herself as her hips bucked against him helplessly, desperately seeking just a little more friction.

"Please, Anthony, Please."

He chuckled again and then he started moving impossibly faster, his fingers joining his tongue, forcing her higher and higher, she could see the reflection of them in the window as the streetlights passed, th obscene image of them branded on the back of her eyelids, And everything shattered. A soft scream tore through her chest, Anthony humming happily in response as her chest heaved, her breathing erratic.

Anthony's head popped out from under her dress, checking his watch a little dramatically.

"Well that took 5 minutes so I think I can probably do that another 3 times before we get home."

He managed another 4, one rolling against the other like an endless wave, her screams getting louder and louder, condensation covering the windows in the back of the car. And Anthony's smug smile as he tugged her boneless from the car, really was absolutely insufferable.

#royals #spicy sunday🌶#kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #molly's asks and answers

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

wrong place, wrong time

summary: a drunken mishap leads you to reconcile with someone from your past. (based off this prompt)

pairing: andy barber x reader

word count: 2.1k

author’s note: this fic has been sitting in my drafts, half finished, for like months. i hope you enjoy!

warnings: extremely brief mention of cheating

“I just think things would be better if we… you know, saw other people,” Oliver explained through the phone.

You sighed dejectedly into the microphone, before deciding to hang up, and aggressively tossing your phone onto the leather seat next to you. You’d already had a shit day at work, and you really didn’t think that you could handle all of this today. Especially considering that you were almost certain that there was the hint of a feminine giggle in the background of that call.

You’d been expecting this for a while, your relationship with Oliver had been falling apart- slowly but surely- for a few months now, and he was ‘working late’ way too many nights for you not to be the slightest bit suspicious. But it still hurt, you were now single, and you’d essentially wasted a precious year of your life with a douchebag who ended up leaving you anyway.

You pressed your foot on the gas, and began your drive back home, before telling yourself fuck it, and deciding to turn onto a side road so you could head to your local pub.

-----

Several drinks later, you were extremely drunk. From that point on, everything was a bit of a blur.

You stumbled out of the bar (against your own will? You vaguely remember someone telling you that you needed to leave), sat in the back of an Uber (how much did you tell them? Probably too much), arrived at your home (but why weren’t your keys working?).

Things were a bit less blurry here. You can remember yourself repeatedly stabbing your keys into the door, and when that didn’t seem to work, deciding to hoist yourself over your fence, and get in through the back.

During this whole ordeal, you tripped over a seat on the patio, losing a shoe in doing so, and nearly fell into a pool, since when did my house have a pool? You ignored that thought, then opened the back door, getting in with no resistance.

You hobbled inside, closed the door behind you, then stumbled up the stairs, before finally finding your (?) bedroom. You flopped down in bed before realizing that you really needed to pee, and as you went to go find your bathroom, everything seemed to go black.

----

You woke up extremely disoriented in a vaguely familiar bathtub. It faintly smelled of pine, and possibly a hint of vanilla. The tub had a modern and sleek look, yet appeared to be as sterile as a hospital room. This was absolutely not your home. But it possibly belonged to someone you knew. The tiles lining the wall did seem to ring a bell somewhere deep in the foggy abyss of your hungover brain.

As you sat up, you groaned due to the consistent pulsing in your head. This had to be one of the worst hangovers you’d had in a while, and you were lucky that you didn’t lean over and empty the contents of your stomach right that instant.

“Stupid fucking Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. “You’re lucky all of your organs are still intact.” After stating this, you glanced down at your torso just to make sure. But a larger question still remained, where were you? Did you hook up with someone? Did you just randomly break into someone’s home? That’s a little ridiculous. Who would do something like that?

Apparently, drunk you would. In the process of exiting the tub, you concluded that you absolutely were in someone elses' gargantuan of a home, and that that person was undoubtedly down the hall, taking a phone call. Also, you were definitely missing a shoe.

You glared at yourself in the mirror, smeared makeup on your face, hair that looked so frizzy that you may as well have been struck by lightning, and of course the overwhelming scent of dry liquor that seemed to be seeping out of your skin. You turned on the sink and splashed your face, trying to completely wake up, and to partially figure out if this was real life, or just a horrible dream.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed out loud to yourself. How would you even get out of this situation alive? Perhaps you could find a window to jump out of. No, too dangerous. Hide in the bathroom until the man leaves? Well, everyone has to go to the bathroom at some point. Leave without being spotted? Mhm, very likely. Go talk to the homeowner? It doesn’t seem like you have any other option right now. You internally screamed at yourself for being so reckless, especially having gone through all of this drama for a guy who didn’t deserve one ounce of your attention.

You slipped off your remaining shoe, then slowly made your way out of the bathroom, peeking behind the doorway to see if the coast was clear, and trying to plan your explanation in the process. As you peered around, searching for the quickest and easiest exit, you realized just how familiar the home was. But what really did it for you was a painting on the wall.

This was Andy Barber’s home. The same man you hooked up with a few times before ghosting. You sighed exasperatedly at your own poor decision making for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

You had to get the hell out of here. Fast. Lost shoe be damned.

You somewhat remembered the floor plan, so managing to get out unnoticed began to seem just a tad bit more possible. You began to jog it down the hall, trying not to be too heavy footed as you went, in the event that Andy was standing in the eyeline of one of the open doors. Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your beeline down the hall, you were spotted.

“What the..? You know what Lynn, I’ll call you back in a bit.”

“I can explain! Don’t like… kill me or something. I promise you that this is just a big misunderstanding,” you were speaking without really processing anything that you were saying. You turned to face the man, and couldn’t help but to smirk a bit at the sight of him. You forgot just how attractive he was, with a full beard, fluffy hair, and soft blue eyes that seemed to be boring straight into your soul from across the room. Not to mention his sculpted body, which you swore you could make out beneath his sweatpants, and worn white shirt. Really, Y/N? First you ghost a man, break into his home a year later, and now you’re objectifying him?

You moved towards the door and began to speak again, your words flowing out at a million miles per minute, “Uhm, so long story short, I basically got really drunk last night, and I thought your house was mine, so I kinda broke in. But I’ll be seeing myself out now,” You gave a curt smile, and looked towards the stairs. “Before I go, any chance that you’ve seen my left shoe somewhere around here?”

It was clear that Andy was very confused, but as you read his face, you could see that he was far more intrigued than angry. “Hey, not so fast.” He approached you quickly, his eyebrows lifting in surprise, and his mouth gaping open slightly. “No fuckin’ way. Y/N?”

You scratched the back of your head awkwardly and nodded, “yeah.”

“You’re not getting off the hook that easily. Lucky for you, I was about to make breakfast, aaaand I’m not totally opposed to being joined,” he gave you a genuine smile, and a playful little shrug.

“That’s fine with me but- this sounds kinda strange- can I use your shower first?”

“Go right ahead. Mi casa su casa, right? I mean, kinda sounds like that’s what you were thinking last night,” Andy peered at you inquisitively at this, “I’m just kidding. Feel free to use anything you need.”

You couldn’t even blame Andy for his passive aggression, but that didn’t stop you from sulking the whole way back into the bathroom.

----

“I forgot how good your water pressure is,” you announced while coming down the stairs, clad in a college hoodie that you’d found in the depths of Andy’s closet, and shorts that were just a tad too large for you.

“Thanks, I guess?” Andy flipped a pancake, then turned to get a good look at you.

“You’re welcome. It smells so good down here,” you slipped into a barstool at his granite island, and observed him while he cooked, “so... you still live here alone?” You asked while you were passed a mug of coffee.

“Well, yeah. I mean that’s kind of what happens after your wife and son die.”

“Uhm.. sorry. For bringing that up again,” you glanced down awkwardly at your dark drink.

“It’s okay, they’ve been gone for a while,” he sat down at his seat, setting down a plate of food for you and himself. “What’ve you been up to? Apart from breaking and entering, of course.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you began, cutting into a syrup-soaked pancake. “You’re no saint either. I can’t think of anyone in their right mind who would gladly break bread with someone who drunkenly broke into their home.”

“That’s fair,” Andy stated, almost dismissively. “But it's not like we’re total strangers. We have history.”

You scoffed at this, “like hell we do,” you muttered. “Anyway, things with me have been pretty boring. Same job. I had a boyfriend, but he just dumped me like, 12 hour ago. I’m pretty sure that he’s been cheating on me for like, the past four months.”

“That sucks,” Andy commented, shoveling a piece of pancake into his mouth.

“Yeah, it does. How about you?”

“You know, same old. Still an ADA, still getting messages from random people about that trial, and of course, still perpetually lonely.”

“By no means do I mean to impede, but maybe you’d be a little less lonely if you let people in,” you suggested, looking up from your food to Andy, whose face gave away the offense he was feeling, “I said maybe.”

“What do you mean?” He questioned, brows furrowing.

“Come on, Andrew. You know exactly what I mean. Like with us, I thought everything was going perfectly well, until I was half asleep and you were telling me that you weren’t ready to commit. Literally moments after you were balls-deep in me.”

“Don’t call me that, Y/N,” Andy squinted at you in agitation. “Is that why you stopped picking up my calls?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed softly, “If it’s any consolation, I’ve been trying to do better. I talk to a… counselor… every now and then. Everything’s just been different ever since they passed, you know? It’s hard to form connections after your most intimate ones disappear in the blink of an eye.”

You frowned a bit at the man, and set down your fork. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Do you, though? Get it?”

“Not really. I was just trying to be supportive,” you turned a bit in your seat to get a better view of Andy. “I just wonder if we had this conversation a year ago if you and I would be in a better position now. I really liked you a lot.”

Andy was silent for a moment, and observed you pensively. “Let’s try again, then. It seems like you and I both are ready for something new.”

“Oh Andy,” you rubbed the back of your neck anxiously. “I just got out of a relationship less than a day ago.”

“Then we can take this, whatever it might end up being, slow. It would be nice to have a friend around who doesn’t just want to talk about work, and tell me that they’re sorry for my loss.”

You nodded, “I’ll probably need a shoulder to cry on at some point sooner than later.”

“So... friends?”

“Friends,” you agreed with a smile and a lift of your shoulders.

Part of you hoped that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something great.

#andy barber x reader #defending jacob #chris evans x reader #andy barber x you #hey i wrote that lol

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

veracity - v. dunn

As promised, here’s one of our many resident himbos, Vince Dunn, in “I didn’t realize wer were dating.” As I’m sure a lot of other writers have experienced lately, reblogs have definitely been down, so I would love it if you’d give a reblog if you like it. I also read the tags! Alternately, feel free to keysmash in my inbox or let me know what your favorite parts were.

word count: 4.9k+

warnings: light sexual content (brief)

Aly Kalinski had never bothered leaving her home town. Why would she? She loved St. Louis. She was born there, went to public schools in the city, and barely moved ten miles away from home for her art degree at SLU. For all its faults, she loved her city. Aly met Vince her sophomore year of college, an accidental run-in at her favorite sandwich shop that had turned into a friendship that had turned into a relationship. So it was a no-brainer decision for Aly to stay once she graduated, getting a position teaching middle and high school art at a school in the suburbs and a loft in downtown. She didn’t want to leave her parents, or her city. Or Vince.

They had just gotten together, and it really hadn’t come as a surprise to anyone but them. Her older sister rolled her eyes when Aly told her, saying that “it was only a matter of time. You two practically act like an old married couple already.” Her parents were shocked even less. Vince’s teammates had actually been some of the biggest perpetrators in the first place, not-so-subtly leaving them in rooms together at parties and encouraging Aly to admit the feelings she wasn’t even sure she had until a few months ago. But it had happened organically, so naturally that Aly really couldn’t even put a pin on the point where their friendship had turned into romance. All she knew was that she was falling hard for Vince Dunn, and for once in her life, she wasn’t trying to stop herself.

September

Clashing teeth and her hands running through his hair and his fingernails digging into the backs of her thighs was all Aly felt as Vince held her up against the door. “Vin, bedroom,” Aly gasped, pulling away for air.

“Mhm,” he said absentmindedly, his lips trailing kisses down the column of her neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. He walked backwards into his room, dropping her down on the bed. She fumbled with the buttons on her shirt as he frantically pulled his belt off. God, it had been too long since they had touched each other. Vince had only recently returned to St. Louis for training camp and the start of pre-season, but he had been so exhausted from drills and scrimmages that all he could manage on nights they got together was curl into Aly’s side with some take out and turn on reruns of Kitchen Nightmares. She had visited him in Toronto for two weeks in July and August — it didn’t always work out so perfectly, but she was thankful that teaching meant most of her summers were free — and they had obviously had sex while they were there, but she had been missing it more than she wanted to admit. Missing him.

So when they went out to a downtown bar with the rest of the team to celebrate the end of training camp, and Aly didn’t have work the next day, they were both more than happy to indulge in a little liquid courage. Which meant a couple of drinks and a few more flirty touches later and the pair made their excuses to the rest of the group, Vince pulling up his Uber app before they were even out the door. And they weren’t exactly subtle about it — Sammy had definitely shouted “USE PROTECTION” while Vince threw him a middle finger — but they they needed each other too much to really give a fuck.

Vince trailed his fingers up her now-bare sides, the clasp of her bra falling open with a well-practiced flick. Aly palmed him over his jeans, trying half-heartedly to reverse their positions. Vince groaned. “Not tonight, baby. I need you.” Well, it’s not like she was going to argue with that. Her leggings came off in record time. His jeans followed. Aly dropped her head into the crook of his neck as he slid into her. God, they could do this a million times and she’d never get used to how good he felt. “You’re fuckin’ incredible, Aly, you know that?” Vince gasped out.

She pressed a kiss onto his shoulder. “You might've mentioned it once or twice, but feel free to keep going, Dunn,” she said.

He quickened his pace. “I will.” Ten minutes and two orgasms later, she was wrapped in Vince’s arms, trying to savor every last moment before she had to get up and use the bathroom. “I meant what I said, you know?” Vince said, one hand carding through her hair. “You really are incredible, Aly. And when we’re together…” He paused, searching for the right words.

“There’s only a few things in my life that have always come easy. Hockey, never being able to say no to ice cream, and you. I never feel like I have to be anyone other than exactly who I am when I’m with you, and I don’t know if you know just how meaningful that is for me. I need it, and I need you.” Aly smiled, turning over and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. This was the closest he’d gotten so saying he loved her, and she’d take it.

January

Aly sipped her champagne, her eyes surveying the downtown St. Louis ballroom where she found herself on a Saturday evening. Her free hand fingered with the sequin-adorned cloth of her dress, brushing up against the thigh-high slit. It wasn’t something she would have ever bought for herself, but she loved it. It caught the light like nothing she’d ever seen and Vince’s jaw had nearly fallen off the second he saw her when he picked her up for the gala. He had bought it for her, too, insisting that if he had invited her the least he could do was spare her the expense of going out and buying one on her own.

Her job paid well for a teacher, especially one in their first few years, but she wasn’t about to complain when Vince gave her his card and sent her into the shopping district to find a dress for the night. He had told her to get something stunning, and she had delivered in spectacular fashion. It was the Blues’ big fundraising gala for the year, an annual charity event to benefit the children’s hospital. Essentially, the night was an opportunity to party on the team’s dime while wining and dining Midwestern elite in a bid to get them to open up their checkbooks. It was something that Alexandra Kalinski was proving surprisingly adept at; even though she didn’t have nearly the rapport with some of the businessmen and philanthropists as most of the players and their partners did, she was able to turn on the same “teacher” charm she used on back-to-school nights, lay the accent on a little thicker than she usually would, and tug at the heartstrings of multi-millionaires with a story of a seventh grader in one of her intro painting classes who had been treated for leukemia in the hospital’s oncology ward. They couldn’t write the checks fast enough.

But Aly found herself at the bar a few hours in, next to Sammy as Vince smooth-talked someone she vaguely recognized as an exec for the Cardinals. Transitioning from friendship to being a couple, at least in regards to their social lives, had been much easier than she had thought. It had all just been so natural that people probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it hadn’t been for the looks she gave him, or her now-permanent spot on the “good chair” in the family box — that everyone else claimed was too lumpy but Aly swore up and down was the most comfortable place in the whole room — or the time Colton had walked in on them hooking up in a supply closet at the Enterprise Center during a wine tasting with season ticketholders. But she had loved everything in their relationship so far, loved how welcoming all of the other WAGs were and how happy everyone had been for them when they finally got together. “God, it was about time,” Sammy had said.

She could see that the person Vince was talking to had started making his way over to the reception table, where all the donations were being collected, and caught his eye just as he was being swept into yet another conversation. Vince liked people, there was no doubt about it, and he loved being able to help out a cause as incredible as the children’s hospital, but after almost four hours of schmoozing and small talk it was beginning to take a toll on even him. Aly gave him a tiny nod, a signal that anyone else probably would have missed, but one that Vince understood instantly. She was coming to get him. Alexandra was by his side in thirty seconds flat, her hand resting between his shoulder blades while she smiled apologetically to the man across from them. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got a headache and have had a bit too much to be driving myself home. Would you mind taking me?”

Vince nodded, trying to keep his enthusiasm dampened. “Of course, babe. No problem.” He gave the businessman his best PR smile. “Sorry to have to leave so abruptly, but duty calls. Thank you so much for coming out tonight and supporting such a great cause, it really means a lot to me and the whole team.” With a perfunctory handshake, they began heading towards the exit, his hand gripping hers as they wove through the crowd. “Thanks for that, Aly,” he said as he opened up the passenger door for her. “I really was running on empty there.”

She smiled softly back at him. “Always.”

May

Vince’s arm was draped casually over the back of Aly’s chair, his fingertips dancing over her shoulder. She was beaming up at the couple under the flower-covered wedding chuppah at the end of the aisle, leaning into Vince’s side. Her cousin Olivia was getting married, her and her soon-to-be wife Yara had been together for years and had finally decided to take the next step. When she got the invitation four months earlier, she hadn’t hesitated to invite Vince as her plus one. They had been dating for a little under a year by that point, but seeing as how most of her family was local — some of her mom’s family was in Wisconsin, but nobody really aside from that — he had already met everyone important.

The ceremony went by in the blink of an eye, Yara and Olivia broke the glasses, and everyone began milling over towards the barn for the reception. Olivia and Yara had already met Vince some six months before, and had immediately taken to each other. The brides came over to their table after thanking everyone for coming, and dinner was served. She had never seen anyone eat as many dinner rolls in one sitting as Vince did.

---

“Alexandra!” Aly heard an excited voice from the other corner of the room over the cacophony of the music, and barely turned her head quickly enough to see who had called her name before she was pulled into a warm hug.

Aly laughed when she saw who it was. “Nice to see you, Aunt Ruth. Aunt Ruth, this is Vince. Vince, this is my Aunt Ruth,” Aly said, gesturing to the woman across from them.

Vince held out his hand, but Ruth waved it off. “We’re huggers here, Vince. She brought you to the wedding. You’re practically family.” She raised her eyebrows at the couple. “When’s it going to be your turn, hm?”

Aly groaned. “Aunt Ruuuth.”

Ruth shrugged. “I’m just saying. Your bubbe’s not getting any younger, and I’m sure she’d love to see some of her grandchildren with kids of their own.”

“How about we, uh, get off of that subject,” Aly said, her cheeks burning. “That’s up to this one, after all,” she said, patting Vince on the arm. Vince ducked his head, understanding the grip of Aly’s hand on his arm as I love this woman but I swear to God if you don’t get me out of here I think I might combust.

He smiled apologetically to the older woman, feigning a glance at his watch. “The ceremony was amazing, Ruth, but I think I’ll have to be taking Aly home now. We’ve got early breakfast plans tomorrow and I’m sure you know how this one gets when she doesn’t get a full night of sleep.” Aly squeezed his hand in appreciation.

“Of course,” Ruth said, smiling at the pair. She winked as they turned towards the door. “But think about it.”

Aly ran her hand through her hair as soon as they turned the corner into the dirt parking lot. “Thanks for that, Vin. We don’t have breakfast plans, though?”

Vince shrugged, an impish smile on his face. “Guess we do now.”

October

“I bought that tea you like,” Vince said from his spot on the couch. “I didn’t want you to be over here while you’re looking after Henry and run out.” Henry was Vince’s rottweiler, a rambunctious eleven month old that he had adopted at the middle of last season.

Aly smiled as she opened the cupboard, seeing her prized brand of Irish Breakfast next to his favorite type of coffee. “Thanks for that, Vin.”

He shrugged as the corner of his mouth twitched. “Don’t mention it.”

The Blues were about to leave for their first real road trip of the year, and it was an unspoken agreement by this time in their relationship that Aly would stay over at his apartment while he was away. Early on in the relationship, she’d just stop by a few times a week to water his plants, and then he got a few fish, and then Henry came along. It didn’t take much convincing from Vince for Aly to agree to look after them; Henry loved her almost as much as he did Vince, and getting to see him before and after school helped to curb some of the loneliness she felt in Vince’s absence.

She turned down the hallway, taking her bag into his bedroom. He had a guest room that would have been just as convenient to stay in, but she had grown used to the feel of his sheets and liked having the ensuite bathroom. Plus, she had already not-so-subtly taken over one of the drawers in his dresser. Her bag had the jeans, button downs, and blouses she’d need for work — her school mostly adhered to a smart casual dress code, plus she was an art teacher — but there were plenty of sleep shirts, underwear, and leggings in the dresser. If push came to shove, she also wasn’t above stealing Vince’s old sweatshirts. He always said she looked better in them anyways.

Even when Vince was back in town, she slept over enough for it to make sense for her to have a space of her own; it just wasn’t practical for her to have to drive fifteen minutes to her apartment and back again just to grab a shirt if she wanted to spend the night after a movie date ran long. They hadn’t broached the conversation of moving in together yet, though. It was something that had crossed Aly’s mind, and if she knew Vince as well as she thought she did, he had thought about it too. But she wasn’t in a hurry to break her lease and he hadn’t said anything about it, so she had decided to let sleeping dogs lie.

She tucked her bag into the corner of his closet, padding into the bathroom and closing the door. She cursed herself as she pulled down her shorts, realizing that her period had started and, conveniently, her purse was out in the living room. Biting her lip, Aly decided to rummage around in the vanity, praying to God that she’d left something from the last time. It wasn’t like she thought Vince would be weird about it if she asked him to bring her something from her purse; he never had been before, even when she had bled through a pair of his sweats one night staying over. “Not a big deal,” he had said, shrugging and tossing them in the washing machine. “I needed to do laundry anyway.” But she’d rather not ask if she didn’t have to. She crossed her fingers as she pulled out the last drawer, her head turning to the side in confusion as she saw an unopened box of tampons. Her eyes softened in realization. He had bought them without her ever having to ask.

January

It was bye week for the Blues, which meant everyone who hadn’t been picked for the All Star Team suddenly had an extra week in the middle of the season and nothing to do to fill it. Or, rather, had a week in the middle of the season and had to find something to do to fill it. In Vince and Aly’s case, that something turned out to be a trip to the Bahamas with some of his teammates and their wives. It had been a no-brainer for him to invite Aly; everyone else was bringing their partners and Vince knew she had a few vacation days saved up from work. They had been planning it for months, Aly having requested the time off as soon as she was able, and had blissfully traded in the chilly winters of Missouri for a balmy week on the shores of Nassau.

Vince had wanted to go to Iceland originally, half to do with the hiking and half to do with the ponies he saw in a National Geographic article as a kid, but one Google search from Sammy led them to the unfortunate realization that being so far north, there were only about six hours of daylight each day and the temperature topped out in the mid 30s. Vince looked a little deflated when he read the forecast. “Don’t worry,” Aly had said, squeezing his arm in reassurance. “We can go in June, after school lets out and before you head home for the summer. I’ve heard amazing things about their hot springs.” Sammy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Aly hit his shoulder.

But the Bahamas were proving to be one of the most beautiful places she had ever been. “Better than home?” he asked as they lay stretched out on the sand while they watched the sun dip below the horizon.

She scrunched her nose at him. “Unfair comparison. St. Louis is hovering around freezing and perpetually covered in a layer of slush this time of year. And, to be fair, it’s an endearing layer of slush and I love it. But right now I think I’d rather be where it’s 75º and sunny and I can lay outside looking hot as hell in a bikini without worrying about freezing my tits off.”

Vince choked on his rum punch. “Worried about that, are you?”

Aly shrugged. “I’d rather deal with a sunburn. Which, speaking of,” she glanced over at Vince, “you’re looking a little red. Don’t worry, though. I’ve got as much aloe vera as I could pack in a single quart bag. Would have tried to sneak in a whole bottle, but didn’t want the feds after me.”

Vince laughed, a whole body laugh that all but consumed him for a few moments, before pulling Aly in to rest against his chest. “I’m really happy you came, Aly. You know that, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I? All-expenses paid trip to the Carribean with you and our friends, getting to hang out on the beach all day and drink cocktails without having to worry about driving home after?”

Vince gasped in mock offense, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her waist coming to clench at his heart. “You’re killing me here, Aly! You mean to tell me this whole time you’ve only been using me for my money? I expected more from you.”

“Not just your money, Vin,” she giggled, settling into his touch. “I tried to pay for my share of the expenses, you wouldn’t have it. But seriously, I do really love it here. It’s gorgeous, and so peaceful, and there’s really not anything I think we could do to make it better. I love you, Vince Dunn.”

“I love you too, Aly Kalinski.”

April

“One sec, I’ve got to go grab something,” Vince said, smiling at Aly as he pushed his chair back from the table. It was the day after he had come home from a two week road trip, and he had invited her over for dinner, told her to dress nice, and made what actually turned out to be a very respectable dinner of ravioli and roasted vegetables.

She nodded as her heart started to pound faster and faster, coming to a peak when she thought her chest was going to burst as Vince returned from the bedroom, turning a blue velvet box over in his hands. “I know it might seem unexpected, but I saw this the other day while I was downtown with Sammy and I don’t know, just somehow knew you were meant to have it. Knew it was meant to be yours. Something I hope you’ll see as a sign of how much I love and care about you and how even though we might not always physically be together, you’re the person I trust most in this life.”

He slid the box across the table to Aly, who opened it with shaking hands. Inside was a silver necklace with a pendant of an olive tree on it. It was absolutely gorgeous — and Vince was right, very her — but it was not what she had been expecting.

Aly snorted, burying her face into her hands. “Oh my God, I’m going to have to call my mom.”

Vince was confused. “Why?”

Aly rolled her eyes. “I told her I was coming over here for dinner and you told me to dress nice. She thought you were going to propose.”

“Propose?” Vince asked, dumbfounded. “Why would I propose?”

She tried to wave him off, but Vince could see the shimmer of hurt behind her eyes. “I mean, we’ve been together for almost two years. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.”

“Together?” He looked over at her. “For two years?”

“Yeah?” she said slowly, thinking he had forgotten their anniversary. “Come June, two years.”

Vince swallowed hard as it began to dawn on him, looking down at his hands. “Together...She thinks we’ve been together for,” he looked up at the ceiling, “twenty-one months.”

“You keep repeating that word, babe. Together. What’s confusing about it?” Aly said, giving him a weird look.

God, how was he supposed to tell her? “I didn’t know we were together. Are together? Let alone that your mom was expecting a proposal.”

Aly’s blood ran cold. “Let me get this straight,” she said, pausing. “You didn’t know we’re together? What did you think we’ve been doing for almost two years?”

“Being really good friends?”

She shook her head. “Why did you tell me to dress up when I came over, then? Why did you make dinner?”

He fixed his eyes on a chip in the coffee table. “I knew you’d been having a rough week and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“What about the vacation?” She questioned.

He shrugged helplessly. “Everyone else was going in couples, and you’re my best friend down here regardless.”

“Me coming to all the games? Sitting up in the box?”

“You’ve become friends with all the WAGs, and I love having you there to support me,” he tried.

“The sex?” Aly asked incredulously.

Vince winced. Okay, that one was a little harder to explain away. “I just always thought that we were both single, both hot, both too busy to get into relationships. Each other’s best options.”

God, Aly felt like a fucking fool. She felt like she’d been played, because in a weird, sort of twisted way, she had. “You said you thought it was because we’re both too busy to be in relationships now. But Vince, I know you have no think energy out your ears, but I need you to concentrate for a minute. Think about most couples you know. They get together a few times a week if they don’t live together. We do that.” He nodded.

“They have a drawer or a part of a closet at each other’s places, they look after each other’s plants and dogs when they’re out of town. We do that. They become friends with each other’s friends, they visit each other’s families, they take weekend trips together and fly to the Bahamas with friends when they have a week off. We did that.” She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “They dance around in the kitchen together and make love and go to the zoo at least once a month because I love seeing the otters. They comfort each other when they’re at their worst, encourage each other at their best. You said you didn’t have time for a relationship, but you didn’t realize that that’s what we’ve been doing, Vince.”

Now it was Vince’s turn to be struck speechless. Aly wasn’t meeting his eyes. And honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He turned to look at her, but she had stood up abruptly from the couch, pacing nervously as she slowly made her way to the door. “I, uh, I think I should go,” she said, looking down at her hands.

Vince stood up, taking a half step towards her before deciding that it was best to give her space. “No, Aly, you don’t have to go. We can talk. I think —”

“No, I think. I think you don’t feel the same way, and I’ve been misreading things for two years. And that’s fine, I can’t force you to fabricate feelings that aren’t there, so um. I’ll go,” Aly said, shaking her head stiffly. She opened the door and shut it, and Vince was suddenly stuck in the loudest silence he’d ever heard. It was like he couldn’t move for a minute, as if all of his muscles were paralyzed, and then he came back to reality. Aly had only been gone for maybe a minute at most, but it felt like an hour.

Vince bolted out of the door, not even bothering to lock it, running straight past the elevator. Stairs would be quicker. He caught her just as she was exiting the front door, one of her hands coming up to wipe a stray tear off her cheek. “Aly!” Vince called. She hesitated for a moment but kept walking. Vince ran across the lobby, not even caring about his complete lack of shoes. “Aly! Wait up, please.”

She turned around, eyes watering, and sighed, walking over towards one of the chairs with a defeated look on her face. She didn’t even sit down, just perched on the arm like she wasn’t quite comfortable with actually settling in, like she needed to be able to up and leave at any given moment. “Please, Vince. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. I’m not mad at you for not feeling the same way, it wouldn’t be fair of me and people can’t control their feelings, but I feel like a fucking idiot right now. Like I spent so long misreading all sorts of signs and signals and words —”

“What if you didn’t?” Vince asked breathlessly.

Aly looked startled. “What do you mean?”

“What if you didn’t misread anything, Aly? What if you didn’t have to be mad at me for not feeling the same way, because I do?”

Aly sunk into the chair, her eyes meeting his for the first time since she had left his apartment. “Then why...Why did you not say anything? How did you not know we were in a relationship?”

Vince ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. “Because I thought that’s all you were going to give me. And if that was it, that was enough for me,” he smiled sadly. “I thought everything, the sex and the wedding and the Bahamas, was just me being a good friend and you needing a stress relief and someone who’d always be in your corner. I never knew this was supposed to be a relationship. I didn’t think you wanted anything serious. And I had resigned myself to that, come to terms with only getting stolen kisses on late nights and early-morning coffee runs before you had to head to school. If I only got you halfway, I was okay with it, because I love you and that was better than nothing.”

“You what?” Aly’s breath caught in her throat.

“I love you,” Vince said. It was the easiest thing he had ever admitted. Because it was true.

He had told her he loved her before, but as Aly searched his face, she could tell that he meant it in a different way. In the way she always wanted him to. “You love me?” she asked, voice cracking.

Vince nodded. “I do. I’m in love with you. And you don’t know how good that feels to admit.”

Aly gave an airy laugh, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear before Vince had a chance to get it for her. “I think I might.”

“I’ve just got one question, though,” Vince asked.

“Which is?”

He cracked a smile. “You’re not going to make us change our anniversary date, are you? It would be pretty weird to explain to everyone and I really don’t want Aunt Ruth to find out and show up at my door to chase me around with a chainsaw.”

Aly giggled, leaning over and placing an exhilarated kiss against his lips. “No.”

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #vince dunn #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl imagines #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #vince dunn writing #vince dunn imagine

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speechlessxx · 4 years

Text

Mailing Back The Memories

(Chris Evans x Reader)

Summary: In which the reader reminisces on what was…

Warnings: self-serve fic, breakup, emotions, slight nudity (but SFW)

Word Count: 2.6k

I hope you guys enjoy!

Your newly purchased bed – that was a full instead of the queen that you grew accustomed to sleeping in – felt too big. Your apartment felt emptier now that his things had been packed up into boxes (that you put off mailing). You never realized how much of his things essentially became yours when he left them behind. He’d always say “keep ‘em, what’s mine is yours” when you brought them up.

You remembered when you came home to your apartment for the first time without him. His jacket that was hung on a kitchen chair welcomed you. Photographs framed were hung on the wall. Polaroids strung through twine like the Pinterest posts you copied. Your cabinets and fridge stored his favorite foods and snacks – that soon became your favorites when your relationship transformed from a fling to a promising future. Even your queen-sized mattress had a Chris-sized impression.

For the first few months, you wallowed in your sorrows. No one could blame you. The relationship was strong, healthy. Neither you nor Chris brought in any toxic traits that nipped at your bond as time went on. Your bond was strong and it felt unbreakable. Communication was effective. Emotions were pure. The intention was to end up at the altar although the question was never officially asked – but everyone knew that’s where you both wanted to go with each other.

None of your friends or family wanted to ask about what led to the relationship’s demise. They were curious, but no one wanted to pry. It wasn’t their business after all. Of course, there were assumptions, but no one truly believed infidelity or toxicity was the cause of the breakup. You and Chris loved each other – anyone could tell just by the way you both would look at one another.

But in truth, every good thing comes to an end. The phone calls became shorter. The getaways were always interrupted. The prying eye of the public wasn’t an issue in your relationship’s earlier days, but when they poked and prodded at your insecurities, it just became too much. When the “I love you”’s felt clipped and forced, you both had to admit something was off. The fire that glowed bright between you slowly faded. And as much as both of you tried to reignite it, the damage was done. And like perfect matches, the relationship had burned out.

It hurt to live in your own apartment, to be surrounded by the memories – his clothes in your dresser and closet, his cologne in your sheets. Hell, even your body didn’t feel like yours. You could still feel his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. Your heart still called out his name on those lonely nights.

But eventually, you found the courage or a faux sense of it – whatever could get you by. With shaky hands, you cleaned up your apartment. You scrubbed at the tiles of the bathroom until they gleamed. You wiped down the wooden floors until they sparkled in the sunlight. You took out the photos in the frames that reminded you of a happier time. The frames were now empty, hanging pictureless on your walls. The twine of Polaroids was taken down completely. The snapshots stored away in a shoebox under the bed. You bought a new mattress – telling yourself you were due for a new one anyway. You opted for a smaller bed, so that it wouldn’t feel as empty (not that it worked. You still felt alone).

You even packed everything that was his into those boxes that sat dauntingly in the corner of your apartment. And although you could fake the confidence – you could tell your friends and family you were doing fine, you could post on Instagram and tweet about new beginnings – you just couldn’t mail back the memories.

It felt like you were closing the door on Chris forever by giving back the pieces of him that you still had.

Like his Red Sox baseball cap –

You laughed and gently slapped the visor of the cap down after Chris made an attempt at a stupid joke. “Hey, hey! Watch it I’m driving!” He retaliated, letting go of your hand to fix the hat. “I’ve already got speeding tickets to pay off. I can’t get into an accident, especially with you in the car.”

You reached over and took his hand in yours, fiddling with his fingers. “You know the hat is a really stupid disguise, right?” You asked. You had the urge to flip the cap off just to annoy him but decided against it, knowing he’d overreact.

“That’s why I’ve got sunglasses,” he said.

“That you don’t wear?”

“There’s no sun.” He clicked his tongue. “I could get you the same hat. We can match!”

You scoffed. “I prefer the Yankees.” You honestly didn’t. You just liked to push his buttons.

He gasped with mock offense. “I think I should just pull over and tell you to walk home.” He pushed your hand away. You burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join your hysterics.

Chris looked over at you. The moonlight was hitting you in a way that made your skin gleam. Your head was thrown back as you laughed, and your eyes squinted from your smiles. You didn’t realize he was still staring at you when you had calmed down. You looked forward and gasped. “Chris, red light!”

His head snapped back towards the road as he passed up the streetlight that glowed the angry color. Thankfully, there were no cars or pedestrians. No one but you and Chris (and maybe the street camera) witnessed it.

“I’m gonna pretend you never said that because I love you.” He told you.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t run the red because I love you … and the Yankees.”

“Ignoring you.”

Or the Montblanc timepiece you bought him for his birthday that he left the very last time he was over –

“You didn’t have to!” He shook his head as he stared down at the watch in awe. “Seriously, babe!”

“No, no! I wanted to get this for you!” You beamed and kissed his cheek.

It was a simple watch. A chestnut brown leather band with gold hardware. It was simple, versatile. Something he could wear on his day to day or for formal events.

“Look on the back!” You urged as he unboxed the watch.

He shook his head and gave you a look of disbelief. He wasn’t into overly flashy things and he didn’t like to put down thousands of dollars on material goods – like a watch. (He owned the same sweatshirt in 2 different colors). Chris loved to spoil his loved ones – he loved to spoil you – but he didn’t know how to react when the tables were turned and he was on the receiving end of expensive gifts.

On the back of the watch, was a small engraving. The man at the store told you that they didn’t do message engravings – “only names and initials,” he told you – but you insisted even when he said that the message would barely be seen.

I love you forever and a day.

It was a stupid, cheesy saying that Chris drunkenly confessed to you one night over the phone back when you two were barely serious. As the relationship heated up, it became a catchphrase, sometimes an apology, a promise. Words that meant the world to both of you.

He began to tear up. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. “Chris, baby, noo! Don’t cry!” You pleaded. “I didn’t think you’d cry!”

He put down the watch and turned his body towards you so that he can engulf you in his arms. You felt wet tears on the skin of your neck where his head took shelter in. You shushed him and robbed the back of his head, soothingly as he cried. You loved how emotional Chris was. He was never afraid to be vulnerable in front of you.

“I love you.” He murmured.

“I love you, baby… Forever and a day.”

Or the painting of you he painted which you had hung over your bed –

“Stay still, (Y/N)!” Chris scolded.

You groaned. “I’ve been posing for the last 2 hours. Are you done, yet?”

“Painting takes time.” He told you. “Stay where you are!”

“The sun’s going down, Christopher.”

Chris had mentioned that he wanted to be a painter when he was younger. You teasingly asked if he was any good – you knew he was (he was good at almost everything). Of course, he never backed down from a challenge.

You regretted saying yes to becoming his personal art model. You didn’t realize you were signing up to sit on an uncomfortable stool nearly stark naked for hours on end. Your arms were aching from holding up the thin scarf that teasingly covered your breasts and draped over your front. Your bottom was sore from sitting on the wooden stool. “I’m getting tired,” you whined. “Couldn’t we just take pictures?”

“No, you wanted to know if I was any good, and besides, painting you in only a scarf is much more intimate.”

“But pictures are intimate, too!” You argued. You had several explicit, teasingly explicit, intimate Polaroids stashed away in your room to prove that. “Plus, I feel like you’re making a Picasso-esque painting and I’m going to be very offended when I take a look.”

“I’m almost done.” He laughed. “And you’re not going to be offended. I promise.” You gave him a playful glare. He seemed a little too confident.

“So, if you’re almost done, can I put on clothes now?” You muttered.

Chris laughed as he glanced up at you from his canvas that was propped up on an easel. He looked you up and down then licked his lips before smirking. “I think I prefer you like this.”

“Perv.”

“Only for you, babe,” he winked before picking up his paintbrush again. He swiped for a few more minutes despite your complaints before dramatically throwing his hands up in the air. “Magnifique!” He exclaimed in – what you assumed to be – a fake French accent. “Come look!”

You hesitantly got up from the stool. Your legs had fallen asleep several times throughout the two hours you were sitting. You covered yourself as best as you could with the sheer scarf – not that Chris minded the view. You made your way over and gasped when you looked over your boyfriend’s shoulder.

Saying that it was “magnifique” was an understatement. No words could describe the artwork in front of you. In fact, you weren’t even sure if Chris had painted you or if Chris painted it at all. He could’ve just bought a painting and had you sit naked in front of him for two hours.

“You did this?” You gaped.

“Duh.” He laughed. “I need to add a few finishing touches. A couple shading here and there. But it’s done. And my poor baby,” he pulled you over to sit on his paint covered lap, “was getting sore and tired.” He kissed your shoulder. “You like?”

“I love!” You said. “I don’t even look like that!”

He scoffed. “Yeah, you do. You’re a goddess.” He kissed the part of your neck where it met with your shoulder. “You should model for me more often.”

“I think I just might. It’ll boost my ego.” You joked. “I love it, Chris, really.”

“I love you.”

The boxes were full of memories. Memories you couldn’t just ship off. You couldn’t just let them go.

But months after the breakup and several encouraging speeches from your friends, you finally caved. With a nervous sigh and shaky hands, you put the shipping labels on the boxes. You weren’t sure if you should’ve added a letter – a piece of closure for you and maybe for him – but you decided against it. You weren’t sure if you could write down how you felt without breaking down again and backing out of sending them off.

You needed to do this. If not for him but for you.

-=+=-

When the packages arrived, he was very confused. Who sent him boxes? Did he order anything and just forgot? But when he read the labels, his heart sunk. Your name and address printed in small letters on the corner of the label.

He slowly went through the things. The memories unfolding before him as he unpacked. The baseball cap he thought he had lost, the watch he was desperately looking for days ago to wear for a red carpet (it brought him a sense of comfort. It soothed his anxiety knowing he had a part of you with him during big events – during anything really.), the painting of the goddess that ruled over his heart – and still did.

It hurt him thinking that you spent months probably packing away things he had left in your apartment. It hurt him thinking about you crying as you rediscovered each item again. It hurt him staring at the watch that boldly read the promise you both swore to keep.

Dodger, as if sensing his dad’s anxiousness, nestled against his leg. He looked up at Chris with sad eyes and nudged his leg as if to tell him it’s okay, dad, don’t be sad.

“I should call her, huh, bud?” Chris asked his dog. It’s been months. Months since the relationship ended, since the story was over. The pain should’ve dulled by now – for both of you. But it was still there. A sharp, ache that raged in your hearts.

Chris fumbled with his phone. His finger hovered above the telephone icon with mobile written underneath it. Your contact picture smiled brightly up at him.

Don’t do it. Your picture said to him. Let us heal.

Chris sighed and locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he should shoot you a text and thank you for his things back. He wasn’t sure if he should call you and ask for a second chance – would you even want a second chance?

But instead, Chris decided to do the same.

In the next few days, he packed up each and every one of your items that you left in his house. Toothbrush, hairbrush, clothes, Polaroids that you took of him, of you, of both of you. Everything. He shipped them off with a letter thanking you for sending his things back, telling you that if you ever needed him that he was one phone call or text away. He thanked you for your time together, telling you that it was, truthfully, the best time of his life. He ended it with an I love you forever and a day although he wasn’t sure if he should’ve – if you would’ve wanted to be reminded of your sacred promise to each other.

When he shipped it off, he felt as if his home was hollow. He didn’t realize how much of you he still kept around. But he took a deep breath and nodded to himself. It needed to be done.

Chris walked back up to his bedroom. But he didn’t send everything away… He wasn’t ready to shut the door on forever and a day just yet. He pulled the top drawer of his dresser open and pulled out the scarf from the painting. He inhaled. Your perfume was still strong. It still smelled like you – like happier times. He couldn’t let go of every part of you – not yet.

Similarly, you kept one of his sweatshirts. It was an old one that he slept in. It was years old – you often joked it was older than you. You sometimes slept in it. It still carried his scent. A part of Chris you still kept. Similarly, you weren’t dead set on goodbye either. Perhaps – and you hoped – that this was just a see you later.

But nevertheless, this was a new chapter – for both of you. And if the story were to bring you back together, then you would both welcome that. And if not, you’d welcome that, too.

#Chris Evans imagine #Chris Evans fic #Chris Evans x Reader #Chris Evans #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers #captain america x read #Captain America imagine #Captain america x reader #captain america #rpf #marvel rpf

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annakie · 3 years

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Are we out of the woods yet?

Hey all, haven't been on tumblr in a few days!

I have been living through what so many other Texans have been living through, so I thought I’d write a bunch of words about it, for posterity. My story isn’t nearly as bad as so many others, but hey, it was still a fairly major historical event so... writing it for my own memories. :)

Post title because that particular Taylor Swift song was stuck in my head for most of the last few days, for obvious reasons.

So the last week has been an adventure! Last Friday I got my first Moderna Vaccine, and I posted about it a few times, but by Monday was feeling pretty good. Of course, it snowed overnight. I'd been so out of it all weekend I didn't realize quite how bad it was going to be, but when a friend who lives nearby told me his power was out I kinda went "uh oh", baked myself a box mix of orange cranberry bread, fortified some windows with blankets, and crossed my fingers. Also starting that morning I'd reduced the temperature in the house, and shut off and unplugged everything non-essential.

I was feeling pretty happy when the power stayed on all day. My friend's power came back that evening so I thought I was out of the woods.

And then at 10pm... plunged into darkness.

I threw some more blankets into areas where the cats hang out and my bed, let some friends know, and tried to go to bed, hoping for the best in the morning. Couldn't fall asleep for hours, worrying, as the temperature was plunging to the negatives for the first time in living memory in Texas. Finally fell into a restless sleep, and woke up a few hours later, no power.

The worst thing about no power is like, all the things you can't do. My phone started at 100% charge and I'd charged all my devices including my backup battery, but still tried to conserve power. The scary thing was hearing that this could last for days. And boy the news that day was bleak about the possibility of having power again anytime soon. The house, however, stayed at about 51 degrees the entire day. So, it was cold, but very bearable with a few layers and blankets. Whichever cats I was near were very cuddly though.

I was really glad to have the cranberry orange bread because it was tasty and easy to eat. Also had a sizeable amount of beef jerkey, and chips, and I'd bought about 48 bottles of water at the start of the pandemic that I never drank, so I had no worries about what to eat for the time, luckily. I figured, worst case, I'd figure out a way to do soup over a candle to have a hot meal eventually.

I’d been dripping the bathtub and checking the other faucets regularly. I’ve never had a burst pipe in the normal cold we have, and was hoping for the best this time as well. All seemed well the entire day.

I slept a lot when I wasn't scrolling twitter and nextdoor for information. And early afternoon there was a knock on the door. My mom literally called the cops to do a wellness check on me because I hadn't answered texts in a few hours, lol. I thanked him, and called my mom. Internet had been spotty and her calls weren't going through, nor notifications when I got texts. So that was... notable.

I tried doing some reading, and playing on my Switch but to be honest, I was so anxious about everything that I couldn’t relax and keep my mind on anything but the lack of power and when it’d come back. I did take about four naps though. Considered bringing some of the cats into the car with me to warm up but realized I’d have to lift the garage door manually to run the car without, you know, dying, and instead just turned it on for less than a minute twice that day to keep the battery fresh...er... without carbon monoxide poisoning. (My garage door is solid wood. Even with good springs... it’s heavy.)

By the time it started to get dark, I started to worry about how much longer this would go on. I have a friend who has a 4-wheel drive... idk a land rover or something. He lives about 30 minutes away normally. It'd probably take well over an hour for him to get there now, especially since there was another storm coming that night. Since learning my power was out, he'd been asking if he could come get me, and they had steady rolling blackouts in their neighborhood, several other people I knew nearby were also saying their blackouts were rolling along.

I resisted, because I really didn't want to move the cats but I would never ever abandon my pets. But also it would be very difficult to move them. Patchy doesn't get along with any of them -- she stays in the master bedroom 100% of the time. There was a short period of time last year she would explore the house, but she got along with everyone else, especially Fry, so poorly that she decided she did not want to explore the house anymore. Fry sometimes wanders into the master bedroom and if they're both on the floor there's lots of hissing and yelling, and maybe swatting. She also has nothing but hissing for Pemily and Leela if she sees them. The master is her domain, the rest of the cats can have everything else.

Everyone else can be mean to Leela, though she gets along OK with Pemily most of the time.

But Fry is just... hoo boy he is nothing but a problem child I don’t want to subject on others. He’s a bully and an asshole and yells loudly when anything doesn’t go his way. He would really, really not take a new environment well. He hates the outside, and runs away when I even open a door. And getting him to the vet involves kitty sleeping pills, though he also still fights through it enough to freak out the entire time he’s in a carrier badly, yeowling the entire time and literally rips all his nails off trying to get out, still trying to dig his way out with bloody paws. It’s a nightmare. So the thought of getting all four of them into carriers at the same time, then putting them all in a car for well over an hour (and the entire trip would be nothing but all four of them crying the entire time with Fry being the worst), then bringing them into someone else’s house, and needing two separate rooms because I can’t put Patchy in the same room as the other three... and trying to keep them all calm in a whole new situation when none of them were used to any other environment than my house (aside from yearly trips to the vet) man... moving them was a last resort.

But around 10pm when I had been sitting in the dark for 24 hours, I texted him and said in the morning, if the power wasn't on, we'd talk about him coming to get me and the cats in the morning.

I fortified Leela’s bed with a blanket fort. (Pic above was from later, when I got power, and was way more open than I kept it when it was cold.) I couldn’t get her to move anywhere else... it actually worked pretty well.

I fortified the master bedroom with blankets over the sliding glass door on Monday and then put Patchy’s cat bed on the bed and fortified IT with more blankets. After she was settled in I managed to get her covered up. Then I went into the living room, which is the smallest room in the house and a room most would use as a bedroom, and snuggled into the couch with Fry and Pemily, the door cracked for ventilation, and four candles burning.

Fell asleep around 10:30.

Around midnight I was woken up by a terrifying sound... running water. Honestly thought I was dreaming for a moment, had to work to pull myself out of my dream, and my heart froze in terror that I may have a burst pipe. And then I heard a very, very good sound... the furnace turning on.

POWER! 26 hours later.. POWER. The running water sound was the cats’ water fountain.

Got out of bed, nuked myself a small frozen pizza, checked around the house for everything and everyone being OK, plugged in all my portable devices to recharge, and went back to sleep. Woke up around 4 and still had power. I thought... I really wanted a hot meal and should cook something that wouldn’t be bad as cold leftovers for lunch, as I’d finished the cranberry orange bread when I woke up at midnight. I didn’t want to use too much power so uh... I made Fettuccine Alfredo, and ate half of it... at 4am. What? It was good.

Also... I hadn’t seen the stray cat I’d been taking care of since Sunday night. He hadn’t even visited because there were no tracks in the snow. Checked the backyard randomly and he was there!!! So he got food and water. I was very happy.

THERE’S THE BOY! I call him Patchy’s Boyfriend. Taken through the blinds as to not scare him.

Animal tracks in the snow!! I was glad some birbs got some water, too!

Went back to bed in my own bed. Woke up a little later than normal for work with the power still on. Texted my folks to tell them the good news. Got up and went into the kitchen, started contemplating coffee and pancakes for a hot meal. Opened the fridge for the first time and checked the milk. Sadly, it didn’t survive, and realized I was a dumbass for not just.. putting the groceries... in the garage... where it was cold...

And just as I sighed and started to decide if I wanted coffee without milk... the power went back off. Aw, damn.

My spirits were lifted, though, at having power and a warm house overnight. I checked in with work and let them know I’d be out again unless the power came back, told my friends and said NOT to come get me, decided NOT to tell my mom the power was off again, because all that would do is make them worry about me all day again, checked on the cats and tucked them in, and went back to bed. Got some more sleep.

Relaxed more that day, with the house taking longer to cool down. Actually played some Switch, read the first couple of books in the Mass Effect Comic Collection. Had cold Alfredo and an apple with peanut butter for lunch. Scrolled twitter a lot more, not afraid to have to go to my backup battery if needed.

Right around the time I’d usually be knocking off for work... the power came on again.

And it didn’t shut off. Yay.

In total I was without power somewhere around 34 hours. It sucked.. but also... I didn’t have my pipes burst... they didn’t even freeze. The house never dipped below 50, thanks insulation! My water was always running, though for a few hours it was very low pressure, and always clean. My city government and congressman were both very involved and communicative, doing their best to help people and get the word out. City had two warming centers should I have needed them, one of which was pet friendly. I had plenty of food and water, enough for a week or more easily. I had friends willing to put themselves at risk and through inconvenience to make sure I was taken care of.

A lot of people had it much, much worse. So yeah. I don’t ever wanna do that again, but for me, it wasn’t all that bad.

Shoutouts to:

My nearby friend Eric, who would have let me stay at his place if needed.

My far-away friend Marcus for offering to come and get me, and suffer the inconvenience of my cats. Other friends would have if I’d asked, too.

My queen sized purple fleece blanket for being so warm and comforting.

My warm fuzzy bathrobe, messy bun beanie, and fuzzy slippers for making sure I was never all that cold.

My cats for weathering things well. They also learned that maybe they DO like being under covers now.

My LED Headlamp for providing hands-free light for hours and hours.

My mom for a bag of candles she gave me YEARS ago I always would see and want to throw out, but didn’t let myself just in case I needed them someday. I burned many of them and they kept me warm that second night.

Also my mom for... calling... the police... on me? I know she loves me. Also that cop for having a sense of humor about it and telling me to call my mom more often lol. ACAB and all, but I shoulda checked my texts.

My Switch and Mass Effect Comic Collection for being huge piles of entertainment when I could finally relax and read them.

My coworker Monica for suggesting I make something I could snack on easily in case we lost power. That cranberry orange bread was perfect.

Me for never throwing away a blanket. I should probably donate some, though. Between the cats and covering windows and me, though.. I used... a lot of blankets.

4am Fettuccine Alfredo.

My municipal utilities for already saying our bills wouldn’t be drastically higher from this month. Although, I take it back for being real bad at the “rolling” part of the “rolling” blackouts.

Also, one more thing... FUCK YOU TED CRUZ, YOU DESERTING PIECE OF SHIT. BETO O’ROURKE DOES YOUR JOB BETTER THAN YOU WITHOUT THE TITLE, POWER, OR PAYCHECK.

#personal post tag thingy #snowpocolypse2021

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xplrerdolan · 4 years

Note

Heheh idk if my request sent 🥺👉👈 possibly a Colby angsty fic where y/n is having a really bad day and comes home to Colby crying and he comforts her? Only if you want tho, ily Bb 🥺❤️

u sent this so long ago but here i am, trying my best to finish ONE THING while i’m working on like FIVE THINGS. anyways i love u 🥺

—

Every hour of the day seemed to weigh heavier on your shoulders by the time you were getting out of work. You’d been late that morning because your alarm clock had somehow managed to get unplugged, resulting in your boss’s impatient voice being the first thing you heard when you woke up. After getting ready in a panic, there was, of course, traffic on the way there, making your anxiety spike while there was nothing you could do about it.

When you’d walked into your job, you had sighed, thinking the worst of the day was over and now all you had to do was get through the day until you could go home. But, no. That’s not how things went.

Your boss chewed your ear off some more about being irresponsible and how there was no excuse for being as late as you were, despite having very valid, though unfortunate, reasons for why you’d been late. There wasn’t anything you could do but take it; as is the way with an abuse of power.

When you finally clocked in to work, you were completely swamped all day. You were grateful when your lunch break rolled around, especially since you hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, but once again, your boss told you off. He said you didn’t get to have a lunch break that day since you were late, and that the time you’d lost during the morning could be made up during lunch.

You went back to your desk, fuming and extra irritable from being hungry. You typed away angrily, which you regretted as soon as your spacebar suddenly stopped working. Anger quickly bled into another bout of panic as you tried desperately to fix it yourself without having to tell your boss, but why would that have happened?

Facing your boss once again, you were met with more anger and unnecessary insults on your overall work performance. With each word that flew from his mouth, he chipped away at your ability to remain calm and collected, leaving you nearly at your breaking point when he sent you to request a new keyboard. You sent in the request and tried to take care of any tasks that didn’t require a keyboard.

Finally, you made it to the end of your day, feeling like a husk of the human you once were. You texted Colby that you were on your way home and that you’d be there soon. You just wanted to stop somewhere to pick up food and get home so you could just unwind for a bit. As you waited in the drive-thru line, you massaged your temples until you pulled up to the speaker.

You ordered your favorite fast-food treat, only to be told that, unfortunately, they were all out of one of the essential ingredients they needed to make your order. You couldn’t even respond, you felt so defeated. You drove away and tried to fight the heavy, suffocating lump in your throat as you made your way home. You focused completely on not letting your tears spill over; you did not want to cry. Not while you were driving, and honestly, not at all. You just wanted to be able to go home and go directly into your bed, under the covers, and sleep until the next morning.

You parked in your usual spot and kept your breathing steady as you walked through the front door of your home. Breathe in and breathe out, you coached yourself, keeping your face neutral as you removed your flats that had been digging a blister into your heel all day. You slowly made your way towards your bedroom, passing the living room as you did.

From inside, on the couch, came the cheerful greeting of your boyfriend. “Hey, babe,” he called, standing up to meet you in the hall.

You were more focused than ever on not crying. You turned and forced a tiny smile on your face, not wanting to unload all of your burdens onto him. He had such a busy life, and you knew in your heart that he had to deal with a lot more than you did on a day-to-day basis, so you didn’t want to add any more stress to his life than he already had.

Once he reached you, he put his hands on your shoulders and leaned in to give you a quick peck on the cheek. You were holding it together pretty well... until he asked, “How was your day?” with a sincere smile.

You could physically feel the fascade you were hiding behind break. Just as instantaneously as it cracked in half, you went from a tiny smile to hiccuping sobs.

Colby’s face dropped with concern, the suddenness of your tears catching him off guard. He pulled you into his arms with a wide-eyed expression on his face, trying to figure out how he could blink and miss the moments between you being seemingly okay to you being inconsolably upset. After a moment of trying to figure it out, he decided it wasn’t really that important to know—what was important was finding out what had made you upset and what he could do to help.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he murmured, his hand rubbing soothing circles across your back. You buried your face in his chest, not wanting to confront how terrible you were feeling despite being at the mercy of your own emotions—you had no choice but to let it out, even if you wanted to choke it all down.

“Why don’t we go to our room?”

You nodded at Colby’s suggestion, keeping your head down to hide the expression on your face. You held his hand and he let you lead him upstairs to your shared room. Walking in after you, Colby closed and locked the door to make sure you had total privacy. Before he could start to comfort you again, you were moving around the room, taking off your business casual clothes, all while you tried to explain through angry sobs as coherently as you could why you were so upset.

You furiously scrubbed the makeup off your face while you detailed the way your boss seemed to have it on his agenda to ruin your life today. You clumsily stepped into your fuzziest pair of pajama pants while you exasperatedly explained how hungry you were and how many times the day kept you from sitting down to eat. You unclipped your bra from under your shirt and threw it haphazardly across the room, landing somewhere near your laundry basket, before launching into an account of how you managed to break your keyboard and how your boss berated you for it. By the time you had finished ridding yourself of evidence that the day had even happened, you had gone through the events of your whole day, all while speaking (and often screaming) through sobs that had been contained for far too long.

Colby sat on his side of the bed, listening patiently as you got ready to relax, his expression a mix of concern and sympathy. Under the surface, he was fuming about how poorly your boss had treated you today—he wasn’t necessarily a great boss to begin with, but he really took it too far this time. However, he would save that anger for another time; you were the one who needed to let off some steam at the moment.

When you had finished recounting your day, you took a deep breath, your breathing coming out unevenly as you got out all of your anger and were left with feelings of sadness and frustration.

“Come here,” he said softly, opening his arms wide and sitting back against the pillows to allow you to cuddle into him comfortably. At his simple command, you hurried over and climbed into the bed next to him, grateful for the haven his embrace provided you.

It was hard to believe a little while ago you thought you’d be able to keep all of your emotions bottled up inside you. You continued to let everything out, not holding back on any sobs or sniffles. Colby, supportive as ever, encouraged you to stay cuddled up to him for as long as you needed. One of his arms hugged you tight against him while the other continued to caress you in a calming manner.

“I know today was really shitty and getting through it was really hard, and I’m really sorry you had to go through all that,” he began, his voice gentle and low. “But I want to remind you that you did get through it—all of it, even things that you had every right to give up on. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that you decided to quit on the spot as soon as your jackass of a boss even breathed near you.” He earned a tiny chuckle from you as you started to calm down. “Seriously, though, you pushed through a lot today. It would’ve been completely reasonable for you to not go into work after waking up that late, but you pushed through. I could totally understand if you told me you snapped at your boss after he chewed you out, but you pushed through. You could’ve done a lot worse than break your spacebar, and if I were in your position, I probably would’ve—but you pushed through that, too. You even kept pushing after you broke it and couldn’t get any more work done at your computer. And the fact that you didn’t set fire to that fast-food place after they couldn’t make you the only thing you wanted? Your self-control is truly admirable!”

You were giggling softly as Colby continued to compliment you on how you managed to make it through everything you had, looking up at him from where your head was laid on his chest. You could see his smile get bigger with every tiny laugh he coaxed out of you, and watching him get happier as you got happier truly made you feel a million times better. And you had to admit, he was definitely right—you had persisted through a lot that day, maybe even more than you should have.

“I’m proud of you. You’re such a strong person, and I love that about you,” he said, his voice a lot softer now. “You make me want to be strong, too.”

Your eyes were welling up again, but not from negative emotions. Instead, you were overwhelmed with gratitude and love for the man next to you. At a loss for words, you simply reached up and pressed your lips against his, letting your lips do the talking for you.

When you pulled away, you whispered, “Thank you.”

“Of course, baby. I’m glad I could help,” he smiled, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

As if your stomach could sense you were done letting out your emotions, it growled loudly, making both of you laugh. “I’ll order some food now, okay? We can stay in and watch a movie or something. Whatever you want,” Colby said, pulling out his phone to start placing an order.

“That sounds perfect,” you said, kissing his cheek before laying your head against his chest again.

It was funny, you realized, how you had imagined that Colby must’ve gone through so much worse in his daily life that you felt you definitely should be able to handle as much as you had and probably more. Yet here he was, admitting that you inspire him to be strong enough to get through his day. You nuzzled in closer, feeling extra grateful and extra humbled as that reality hit you, and you felt warmer knowing you kept each other going.

#curlyhairedbrock #asks #concept #blurb #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock concept #colby brock one shot #colby brock imagine #colby brock fluff #colby brock angst #colby brock blurb

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the-headbop-wraith · 3 years

Text

3 _ 42 The Land Time Forgot

Part 4 - Final

An extended time later, dedicated to the intense and unrelenting search for their friend, all of which resulted in no leads or inspiration to where he might’ve been hauled off. It was possible Arthur was still within the park, but it was also as likely that he was hauled out to a parking lot and smuggled away in an unmarked van. Vivi doubted those orchestrated events, given only one person was viewed dragging Arthur away. By the build they were larger than Arthur, not the same dimensions as Lewis, but enough muscles and mass to bully their thin friend into restraints.

Nothing positive came from Mystery’s searching. It was harder for him to track scent trails if a possession or shoe didn’t make direct contact with the ground or standing structures, such as plants or fences. Likewise, the cart that got away was speculated to not have returned to the park grounds. If he was not within the park, their search was near impossible.

The remaining three made their way through the Historically Accurate Old West district, with Mystery leading the way sniffing on the air or scanning the ground. By now, the park was nearly deserted aside from the work crews roving around, cleaning up the plots of ambient landmarks – in the case of the Old West ™ - they touched up bleached out paint on stagecoaches and trimmed back cactuses amid a gravel patch. Technical crews descended on the rides, to give last checks before the attractions shut down for the evening. Natural light faded away, permitting the intense lamps dotted across the park to award visibility to the current groups.

“This isn’t working,” Lewis noted. “We just have to go by the security offices and see about examining those cameras.”

Vivi sighed. “I know you’re right, but searching through all those cameras can lead us to the same situation. Trying to figure out where they went, after the train.” She paused for a moment and observed the work crews, expertly raking the gravel around a tall saguaro cactus.

Asking people if they saw a ‘lizard man’ driving a golf cart around, had warranted many obtuse gawks, gaggles, and some giggles. Most people thought they were acting out some sort of park gag or something, and a few others asked if a hidden camera was involved. People.

“It would be a lead though,” Vivi supposed. She gave a whistle, and Mystery whipped his head up.

“Better than nothing,” Lewis quipped.

Unbeknownst to the group, a golf cart rolled through the pathway of the Historically Accurate Old West district. The vehicle only halted when the driver spied the group from a distance, headed for the district exit. The driver wore a park merch hoody, and under the rustic eave of a shut-up memento shop, the shadows draped them near completely.

“There they are,” he muttered, exasperated. He struck the steering wheel, then pulled up the phone. The pale light of the screen traced across the lower features of his face, and a downcast frown. “Last warning. There won’t be another.”

Darkness pressed in upon the expanse of the storage chamber. The noises outside, the screaming and thunder of music rolled off an hour or something ago. There was no certifiable way to figure how much time passed, aside from the pins and needles prickling through his arms, and the claws pinching into his sides.

He didn’t recall when the golf cart lost power. It was motionless, and the steady drone of electric current – something he was accustomed to with car batteries – brought about an unnatural stillness. Like being stuck in a long abandoned, and likely haunted house. Arthur shivered.

No response was coming from the Allosaur. It remained dormant and stiff, some of its features became perceivable as the gloom molded around his senses. He couldn’t see it, but he could perceive the presence of its hull. And the cheese-shredder claws locked into his vest.

At this point, his vest must have been reduced to ribbons. He worked diligently for the past hour, with his wrists bent and knotted into his lower back. Through a grand deal of effort and shifting, cautiously biding his actions by the minute – fearful that any drastic movement might activate the machine (and then what he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to find out) – Arthur managed to haul his entire body up by a mere foot. But that meager amount of transfer set his bound wrists high enough to reach the Allosaur’s sharp talons, where he rubbed the thin fabric of cloth. He was exhausted and hungry, the circulation in his arms hummed. Too focused on the work, laboring to fix this latest fuck up.

The bind on his wrists snapped. Arthur wriggled, twisting his legs beneath him. With the Allosaur’s talons latched around his torso, he was forced to squirm upward. It didn’t have a grip over his shoulders, which permitted him to get one arm free. He hesitated, thus far the Allosaur hadn’t budge, and the servos remained locked. With a lot more twisting and more effort, he heaved his waist free—

And plummeted to the floor at Allosaur’s feet. The dust swirled around his head, and he sneezed. No response and no shift from the Allosaur. Movement. It was waiting on movement. If he could get his legs free, he might could outrun it.

As was suspected, the claws of the Allosaur feet were sharp. He rolled his legs over and, with some fumbling knocked the binds against the dagger claw of a toe.

Without warning the Allosaur shifted, the machine whirred to life. Arthur cringed down, trying to make himself as small and minuscule as possible. Damn! DamnDamnDamn! He winced. The animatronic creaked to life and took a step. It was moving… away? It didn’t notice him? Unable to see, Arthur remained stony and alert. The hissing hydraulics and low grumble of the mechanical dinosaur continued, becoming fainter as it roamed further away. It wasn’t coming back. Of course, it shouldn’t. The machine only knew what the puppeteer told it.

He grappled with the bind on his ankles, tearing out bits and chunks of the threads until his legs could rip the sash free. Then, he stumbled through the murk, up until he collided with the golf cart. He stilled upon impact, certain the machine would come thundering back with a shriek. That didn’t happen. It was called away, and he was fearful of why.

Where was it? The guy dumped it all in— Found it! He unrolled the magazine, and groped around for his phone. The screen lit up when he brushed it, and he was immediately thumbing through the contact list. Shit! He needed to get moving!

Arthur shoved the essentials back into his pockets, save for the magazines. He used the light of his phone to gather his bearings and began moving. “Pick up, c’mon,” he grumbled.

The third ring got a response. “Arthur!” Vivi screeched, “Where are you?”

“I’m in the Bahamas, having the time of my life,” he groused.

“Arthur…” she growled, over the line.

“I dunno!”

Lewis was in the background, yelping, “What ya mean, y’don’t know?”

“I didn’t write up a detailed map of where he took me!” He tossed an arm high, as if they could witness the exasperation. “I’m just calling to say I’m dandee, and also I hope you three are prepped for bagging dino.” He slowed down some when the noises of the Allosaur’s jog echoed ahead. He didn’t want to test its limits, or intents. “I think it’s got your scent.”

In the background flew some fervent discussion, Mystery barking, and Lewis proclaiming they are not prepared at all.

“Where are you?” Vivi returned.

“I. don’t. Know.” The floor slopped beneath his feet and he nearly tumbled. The Allosaurs reverberating march continued ahead, stinted by the curvature of the corridor. “I’m trying to get out of here, so I’m following the Allo. You guys should probably think of something, get to work. I’ll call you back here in a bit.”

“What’re you gunna do?” Lewis called. “Art?”

“I sure as hell ain’t gunna lasso the thing.” He had to slow down at the base of the slope and tone the voice down. Having the pitiful light of the phone didn’t benefit his vision in the abyss surrounding him, but he could make out the noises of… a metal creaking. Familiar metal creaking. The door. That was the entrance. “I’m gonna keep tabs on it, while I can. I’ll call you if anything changes.” He hung up, barring further discussion or argument to follow. Knowing Vivi, she wouldn’t waste time calling back.

The gate clinked, and a bar of light sliced through the barrier of black. The Allosaur’s feathered shape squeezed through the thin veil, its tail zipped out of sight. From a distance, Arthur pursued, cautious of moving through the entry too quickly. He needed to get outside and get his bearings, reconnect with the others.

It was a short ascent to reach the ground floor and the district pathway. The walls surrounding him appeared to be brick, and the ground cobblestone themed. Arthur hurried the remainder of the way out of the alley for cast access, and stopped on the curb to catch his breath. It felt good to drink in that fresh air, after hours trapped in the musty storage chamber.

Upon raising his head back, he choked on the air. Or maybe that was a bug, buzzing around. Or it was the fresh air, and the shock.

Across from him stood the Allosaur, stooped and snarling. That wasn’t so terrifying since it wasn’t facing him. What stole his breath away were the figures directly in its line of sight, those cutouts he knew better than anything else in the world.

They actually didn’t have a lot of time to prep.

The team was well on their way to security headquarters when the call came through. Arthur was all right, excited and out of breath but he managed to make a call. It was a lot to unpack, where to even begin? Then the Allosaur emerged from a narrow crevice in the castles wall. Lewis spied it first, and sagged Vivi by the shoulder before she could take another step.

Allo locked onto them immediately. It crouched down and emitted a low, deadly snarl.

Vivi leaned toward Lewis. “Maybe it’s vision is based on movement.”

“This isn’t a movie,” Lewis warned. Regardless, he pegged survival on not moving.

One of the golfcarts driven by the maintenance crews cruised by, like a tumbleweed sweeping across an old western set. The Mystery Skulls watched it go on its way and keep going; the Allosaur didn’t shift an inch.

Woof.

“New plan,” Lewis hissed. He began pushing Vivi by the shoulders. “Scram while the scrammin’ is good.”

At once the Allosaur flexed the talons decorating its arms and gave a grating growl. It coiled back, gears shifting in its spine and ankles as it measured out its weight. Before it could launch, a screeching theme song began playing… off at its side. The Allosaur shuddered, and swung its snout

Arthur was in mad dash across the pathway, phone held above his head. “Hey guys! Small world!” He gave a piercing wail when the Allosaur gave chase.

Lewis face palmed. “What’re you doing man?!”

A mock crystal display decorated the center of the pathway, with small multicolored chambers, and light glittering within. Arthur ducked into the small crawl space. “Buy ya some time!” He zipped through on his hands and feet; the display was built for smaller guests, with twisting tunnels and chambers within. The Allosaur got its head trapped at the entrance, while Arthur scrambled through the whole thing like a hamster.

“Guys got the control!” Arthur sprang from the exit slide, and swung his phone up high. “He has to be somewhere around here!”

Vivi cupped her hands around her mouth. “What doe she look like?” Lewis tapped her on the shoulder.

“Gotta be someone around here, watching – keeping tabs.” He ran over to a cobblestone wall and leapt onto it, adding some height to his impressive stance. He curled his hands over his brows and began scoping the area.

Vivi grabbed Mystery by the collar. “Go take care of Artie in case he runs out of lives.”

Mystery whimpered and turned his lips down. No, you can’t be serious!

“You got two pairs of legs he’s got one,” Vivi scolded. “It’s just a boring old machine.”

RAWWR!

“With teeth. Go!” She pushed Mystery off, until he got his legs working and galloped on his way. Then, she raced over to the wall where Lewis stood and climbed up. Lewis reached down and took her arm, he hoisted her all the way up to plop down onto his shoulders.

“Not seein’ much. Aside from a giant chicken chasing a scrawny worm.”

Vivi got into Lewis backpack and pulled out a uniocular. “The phone. He might see what our dino sees.”

“Only what the dino sees,” Lewis speculated. He began walking along the wall top, keeping his balance despite Vivi’s insistent leaning and tugging on his shirt collar. “Did Allo hear Arthur, or did our guy see Arthur first?”

“That’s a good question!” Vivi winced, and focused her attention the opposite way Lewis was facing. “Lew!”

“Present.” He reached up for Vivi, to stop her from toppling off. She leaned down over his head, took his chin and angled his view around.

“Over yonder.”

Lewis twisted around and did his best to align his view of sight, with whatever Vivi was fixated on. It wasn’t hard to make out, a vague silhouette fitted at a balcony of some tavern themed building. The figure was not paying heed to the surroundings, but focused on the softly glowing device in their hands.

“They could just be slacking off, and texting somebody,” he offered.. Vivi began slipping off his shoulders, easing down to the wall by her own accord.

The figure moved their interest from the comforting glimmer of their phone, and spied Vivi with Lewis, inspecting their stance. With a jolt, the person swung away and dove off into the gloom of the balcony – towards a door or alternative exit.

“Sure,” Vivi mocked. She tugged Lewis off the wall to ground level with her.

“Hey!” Lewis harked, “You won’t get away this time!” He started running, leading Vivi by the hand. She couldn’t help the sappy smile set on her face. Classic Lewis.

The door to the shop was locked tight. Lewis barreled into it and gave it a firm shake, rattling the plexiglass. “Damn!”

Vivi fixed her headband. “He’d have gotten away anyway, by time Arth—” A sound caught her immediate attention and she whipped around. The guy had tripped, or had fallen, or stumbled on something – point was he was sneaking off behind them. The guy twisted around and scrambled on the descending steps as they flopped about, trying to dart one way or the other in the failed retreat.

“You there!” she screamed, pointing.

The person pulled their legs under them and charged off, towards a cluster of maintenance workers repairing a short fence post and the frayed rope. They slapped their hands over their hoody, keeping it in place while they zoomed.

“You might as well stop running!” she hooted, taking pursuit. “We’ve done this gig a dozen times.”

“Huh?” A touch oblivious, Lewis spun about searching for his teammate. “I uh… yeah! It’s over for you now!”

The cloaked figure dove into one of the unguarded golfcarts and hit the acceleration. His first and only thought get away from these nuts; the last thought he had, and of miniscule importance, was the fact he dropped the phone somewhere.

It would be the most excellent of days if Arthur got out of this without getting snapped in two. He managed to gather some speed and distance on the mecha dino by taking a downward sloping path, which was open only to the maintenance vehicles and golf carts. The path was narrow, but didn’t pause the Allosaur at all in its pursuit; it did however force the machine to slow its movement in order to calibrate for the offset in its balance. That didn’t stop it from hissing and being a friggin’ terrifying attraction.

Mystery gave a yip and hopped the decorative little lattice fence and plopped into a lush shrubbery plot. The garden ran either side of the pathway and was aesthetic in its mission to conceal the vehicles as they roamed. Light flashed through the canopy of the grove, the patterns glittered across Mystery’s white pelt and flashed over his glasses. He gave a sequence of yips as he burst through the undergrowth.

In a breathy lunge, Arthur followed the pooch. “Getting that cardio, eh Misty?” The response was a bark. “Good tu hear!” He stumbled when scrambled off the clear path and into the thicket, his shoelaces snagging on the sinister crooked limbs.

The two burst from the brush, leaves flying everywhere. Arthur spat out a few as he kept pace, taking the left that Mystery tilted into. A small grouping of the groundskeepers halted work blowing leaves and trimming trees, in order to behold the scene. Up until the Allosaur crashed from the barrier of trees, a terrible shriek igniting from its sound system. They scattered with yelps and dives.

Mystery ducked and vaulted over metal guard rails, the scene encircling the zone displayed bright colored metal and cement. Arthur was above, scrambling atop the bars like some anime character in intense training. He slipped on the third to last and tumbled, crashing within the barriers. Mystery zipped back over and took his shredded vast sleeve and dragged him off behind a wall.

A few meters away, the Allosaur came to a halt and stood steely on the pavement. Slowly and with deliberate precision, its head began moving side-to-side scanning the walls and fabrication of the park, examining cement walls and decorative displays, labeling attractions and directions to rides. Nothing caught it’s attention, despite crew members racing around in the background and bailing the site.

Behind the wall, Arthur was struggling to calm his panting. A little black paw pressed over his lips. He frowned. “Where have those been, Mister?”

Mystery snorted.

“You!” Someone snapped, from the side. Arthur’s face paled and her jerked, knocking Mystery off his lap. “What d’you think you’re doing here?” The guy in a park uniform carried a clipboard, metal box combo – the same or near identical to ones used at the shop. This guy tugged at the communicator clipped to his shoulder, a garble of obnoxious static and overlaying conversations rolled through.

“Security! I got some kid here, snuck into the park.” He took his thumb off the transmitter. “Stay put right where you are. Don’t even breathe.”

Mystery grimaced, and brought a paw to his face. “Shh!”

“Dude!” Arthur snapped, on the verge of tears. “Shaddup!”

The guy blinked, clear astonishment radiating from him. “Don’t you dare tell me to shut up! You know how much trouble—”

A bellowing yowl cut him off.

“What was that!?”

“Fuck!” Both Arthur and Mystery sprang up and darted around either side of the guy, provoking him to whirl around like a top.

An instant later, the Allosaur clambered over the metal dividers of the ride entrance. Once it bypassed the obstacles, it swung its snout and all its teeth to the ride mechanic.

“Ho-shit!” The mechanic properly noped out and took a dive into the nearest shrubs.

It was too late for Arthur and Mystery, the two dashed down the ride dock. An open door to the side caught the hounds immediate interest and he shot in, followed by Arthur. Arthur flipped the lights off and shut the door, but there was no lock.

“Not like it’d use the handle.” A dull thump broke his fantasy of safety, and he looked over to the Plexiglas barrier that displayed the full length of the ride, the rollercoaster train, and the Allosaur glaring in. “Is… that bullet proof? Ya think?”

Mystery woofed. Does it really matter, ya think?

The Allosaur shoved its snout against the clear barrier, its eyes flashing ominously in the lights cast by the attraction twisting around it. A crack formed in the window, but the substance held firm. Snarling and hissing, it slammed its head and claws against the window. The clear material snapped in two, one portion warped and slid out of the frame. The Allosaur began climbing through, its jaws snapped inches from Arthur’s face.

He let loose an ear splinting wail and snatched up an empty Styrofoam cup. The projectile bounced off the menacing snout. Mystery yapped and dove under the Allosaurs line of sight, he stopped at the door and stood on his rear legs scrambling at the door handle.

“Are you nuts?!” he shrieked.

Mystery barked, his dogs ears bobbing. Enjoy your corner!

Arthur cursed and, following a grand deal of prayer, crawled under the Allosaur’s gnashing jaws. He was still crawling on his stomach, though he was very clear of the dinosaurs reach, even when he reached the door. With a flick of his wrist, the door popped open and Mystery bounded out.

The Allosaur twisted, its reading and interpretation code aware its quarry was escaping. Yet, it was confined by the shattered barrier. It wriggled, talons tearing at the control panel beneath it. Lights rolling throughout the coaster track blazed, and with a gush of hydraulics not from within the mecha dino, the train carts became active. The animatronic continued the fight to dislodge itself and renew pursuit, all before it had successfully wriggled lose. Its tail swung dangerously through the docking station, nearly taking off Arthur’s head.

Luckily he was spry and managed to stunt roll, following with a few rolls that relocated him far beyond the Allosaur’s range of movement. Mystery was galloping ahead, going for the divers end and the cultivated grove ahead.

With a final wrench the Allosaur tore the Plexiglas loose, and swung its shoulders free. It gave chase after the targets, lunging and snapping.

Arthur wobbled, nearly pitching over the side of the dock. The rollercoaster cart chugged into view on the leveled track, and he made the leap. “Mystery!” He whistled, and waved the dog over.

The hound wasn’t the dinosaurs immediate focus, he still cowered beneath the feet when it snapped out. On Arthur’s lead, he sprang like a gazelle and landed gracefully on the front cart. Then, the coaster hit the divider in the track and the Mystery dog lost his balance and spiraled sideways, off the vehicle and into the shrubs below.

“Whoa, wait! Where’d you go?” Arthur leaned over, searching the five or something foot drop. The divider activated a failsafe in the rollercoaster’s train cart, and the safety bar swung downward over Arthur’s arm, braced to the headrest. “Um?” At first, he mistaken the error as an easy fix. Pull the bar up and loose. But it was a safety mechanism, with a manual override in the control office. Somewhere. He jerked at the bar, even as the coaster train began up the steep incline that initiated the ride. “Fuck… fuck-fuck-fuck! Oh my fucks!” He tried to angle his knee against the backrest, the bar was really digging into his arm. “Feck-fo-FREK!”

Below, the Allosaur watched with perceivable agitation as the roller coaster train inched out of range. Unable to reach its target for the time, it swung away and sought out a new location to reengage.

There was no better option open to Arthur, but hunker down and brace himself. His mind ran through the threats and dangers, what sort of coaster was this? He didn’t see. The g-force could be enough to rip his arm off, he would be lucky if he only suffered a broken limb. Worse could happen, if he didn’t wedge himself down good and tight.

The coaster train peaked at the initiating drop, and Arthur nearly blacked out. A ninety-degree drop loomed, and illuminated here and there were the more prominent twisty-curves of the ride. He tasted blood, he either bit his lip or his tongue, he wasn’t sure which. The others, they had no idea where he was. There was Mystery, but where was he?

A pensive hiss issued from the coaster train when it paused and drew out the agonizing seconds. He patted through his vest and pants, searching for his phone. Then the train slid forward, gaining speed as the vehicle dipped into its full and unrestrained plummet. Its wheels rattled and the whole train vibrated. Arthur held on for dear life and shrieked.

“I say the guy ditched the giddup, and is somewhere mingling with the work crews,” Lewis theorized. He was waiting for Vivi to catch her breath, near a fence and a lush plot of trees. The acreage was mostly thick shrubbery growing beside a sheer and expansive cliff face. “Or, he could be hiding anywhere.” One hand cradled his chin, while he examined the fostered brush.

Some of the lights across the park went off for the long hours of the night, while others remained on to stylize the attraction for all hours of the late. And also safety ordinances with aircraft and tall structures. The intrusive lamps were not the same as the on-ride decorative colors and aesthetic luminosities which thrilled the riders.

“We need Mystery,” Vivi spoke, still gasping and hanging off the fence. “More importantly, we need to get that dino wrangled. It’s really thrown a wrench in the situation.”

“Yeah,” Lewis huffed, trying to blow hair out of his eyes. “It kinda doesn’t let up, huh?” He bent a brow at Vivi when she snapped her head up.

“I think something’s gone wrong. My Arthur senses are tingling.” She looked around. The scenery was placid, the maintenance guys doing their thing, not paying them any mind.

“‘Arthur senses’?” Lewis mused, with a smirk. “Is that a thing now?”

“I’m gonna start it, watch me!” She crossed her arms and nodded, affirming dedication.

“Look, I’m certain the Allo didn’t catch him, or Mystery.”

The careening thunder of the roller coaster ttain swooping by on a nearby, previously cold track, caught his focus for the moment. The churning rumble was no contest to the distinct pitch of wailing assaulting the evening sky, rising in intensity as the whole cart blasted by and then dying out as the coaster train shot out of an inverted twirl. Both Vivi and Lewis observed, deadpan.

“Technically speaking,” he began, “it didn’t catch him.”

Vivi fixed her glasses, cleaned them, then set them back on her face. “Somehow, I think this is worst.”

Across the pathway, the maintenance workers began diving and bolting for the cover of the landscapes they were working around or in. The Allosaur went charging through, a white blur right in its sights.

“All right,” she grumbled. “Allosaur two, us zilch.”

Lewis spun around and hoped the fence. “But who’s keeping score?” He bypassed one of the signs, warning of danger to bodily harm due to the coasters proximity. A slope eased down, to the low point the coaster would pass through. In the distance, Arthur’s harrowing squeal became more pronounced.

“Lew!” Vivi yelped, leaning over the first barrier. “What d’ya think you’re doing? Danger!”

He waved over his shoulder. “No worries! I’m a professional!”

“Of what?! Stunts gone wrong?” Vivi hit her fist to the barrier and winced. She wrenched around, the Allosaur gave a grating and ravenous snarl. “I’ve just about had enough of this!” In the chase of the man in the mask, or shroud, or whatever, they sped through the game zone. There were more food vendors within, along with pistol games that utilized water guns, and some that used projectile disks. If she had to, she’d go Rambo on that hunk of metal.

In the background, Mystery was still leading the mecha dino across the district. He dove under a set of que ropes, scrambling like a spider among the poles. The Allosaur came to a stuttering halt and swayed, its feet pawed at the ground as it sidestepped. Vivi shot by without a glance, toward the entrance of the arcade and carnie games.

While Vivi took off to initiate a fool proof plan, Lewis swung over the last and tallest fence, to place himself within the rollercoaster track lane. Above, the hurtling cart came whizzing through at a speed peaking on fifty miles an hour, minimum. Along with it, the terrorized passenger screeching.

“Hold on Artie!” Lewis sprinted, following the overhead track as it jerked and spiraled.

“Are you nuts?” Arthur howled. He was losing vigor, barely able to keep his legs within the coaster box. “NO! Lew! It’s too— AARRRRRRRRRRRGH!” The rollercoaster twisted and hurtled downward into a steep dip, the track cleaved through an alcove within the ground. When the full train passed through the chasm, it decelerated significantly – enough that Lewis could leap up and snag that last cart, without losing a hand or being belted aside like a ragdoll.

“Hah! Nailed it—” Lewis nearly missed latching onto the safety bar, a fraction before the whole train flew into a sharp series of loops. Once again, the coaster is off on its bullshit, accelerating to sixty-five or something miles per hour, diving and curving.

Whenever the coaster calmed down for a sporadic pause, Lewis inched up a cart. It was tedious, as the cart dividers were somewhat sleek and slippery from being cleaned. The full body braces assisted, in that they were sturdy and didn’t unhook.

“Don’t worry, I’m here!” Lewis proclaimed, when he at last reached Arthur.

Arthur glared back as the coaster inched its way up the steep climb, back at square one. “WHY! Didn’t you just shut off the coaster?”

The grin on Lewis’ face dissolved. “Um, well, that might’ve been a worthwhile option….”

“You meathead!”

“Hey, I’m not the mechanic here!”

Once more, Arthur fought at his arm trapped in the brace. “We’re both gunna DAI, and then we’ll be the latest attractions for this park!”

“Think positive, Artie!” Lewis climbed onto the first and foremost train cart and gave the device a quick look over.

“It’s jammed!” He tried to squeeze down, and jam his elbow under the brace. However, he was short on energy to supply, and flopped sideways when he lost his footing. Lewis wrapped an arm around his shoulder and grabbed ahold of the brace.

“Take it easy, I’ll get you off.” The coaster came to the topmost of its track and paused. Lewis frowned. “Darn.”

“Trust me,” Arthur wheezed, “The first nine times, and you get used to it.” They flew into the drop, and Arthur was pretty certain Lewis was clinging to him so he wouldn’t get thrown off. “Fun, eh?!”

“We’re gunna DAI!”

“That’s the spirit!” Arthur cackled.

The coaster accelerated into a chute and eased off the speed, but it rumbled on with sinister purpose. Lewis released his grip on Arthur. “Brace yourself!”

Before Arthur could inquire why, or really prepare, Lewis smashed his knee against the brace forcing the bar down hard against Arthur’s already strained arm. A pitiful creaking lurched from Arthur’s gullet as the pain zipped through his arm.

“Sorry! Had to reset the mechanism,” Lewis huffed. He shoved the bar up and out of the way, but doubled down on restraining Arthur to the coaster cart, as the train swung into another reckless dive. His sneakers skipped across the slippery metal plate of the floor, while the coaster vibrated along the tracks.

Down below, one of the canopies for the prize corner loomed. It was the basket hoop toss, and there was a sizable net stretched between the poles on the three sides.

Lewis didn’t get the chance to warn Arthur. His shoe already snapped loose, and it was either get flung like a marionette or choose a landing pad. The support of the roller coaster whistled by his ear, he wasn’t really certain if they would hit the mark he aimed for – given the velocity and trajectory of the coaster’s movement. It was swinging into a turn, gaining momentum. Arthur tried to get out some other sort of noise, but he was likely still stunned from his arm that he couldn’t generate the sort of sound appropriate to free flight.

The entire basketball court collapsed when Lewis hit the bar, which suspended one side of the nets. Fortunately, he and Arthur tumbled into the prize corral beneath, among the giant stuffed toys and packaged sport balls. A cacophony of squeaks and deflating balloons, among the toppled metal bars punctuated all ambition for recovery.

“Ow….” Arthur groaned. “Lew. Why?”

“I just wanted off,” he moaned. “No matter the cost.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Ask me in the morning.”

“Lew.”

“Hunh?”

“If it’s not too much trouble… could you get off me?”

It took several agonizing minutes for the two to untangle from the knotted snare, the mountain of cushy prizes, and each other; all in near total darkness. Aside from a lamp gleaming down on the side of the coaster, and it whooshing by periodically and rattling around the tracks, they might’ve lost track of where they’d dropped. Lewis dragged Arthur out by the collar of his vest, some of the netting remained snagged on his scrawny limbs.

“C’mon Art, use your feet.”

“I have been running… for five years now.” He caught himself on his fists, before his nose could smack the pavement. “Wha’s that?”

A blazing shape zigzagged around the faux tents of carnie games, speeding as it closed in on Lewis and Arthur. At last it came in for a landing, skidding right into Arthur’s face. Lewis knelt and pet the dog.

“Wait,” the taller figure said, a flash of worry in his face. “Wait-wait-wait… last I saw you—”

The harking cry of the Allosaur obliterated through the screech of the roller coaster surging through, one more. It’s head twitched and the talons on its fists opened, another peeling shriek plunged through the open air as it lunged, teeth glistening..

Arthur yelped and flipped over, fighting with his sneakers tangled in the net still. Lewis snatched up one of the basketballs and threw it at the Allosaur with all his might, the force and speed would’ve been something to admire. The sports ball merely deflected off the dinosaurs hard plastic frame. Arthur yowled and held Mystery tight—

“KII-YAHH!”

Everyone dove to the side, Lewis one way and Arthur with Mystery to the other. The Allosaur kept going, but it was stumbling and its feet came down in a frenzy when it lost all balance. In a fumbled miss step, the animatronic stalled and spun three times then came down in a heap beside the netted basket hoop tangle.

Likewise, Vivi was still spinning, the bat clasped in her hands whizzing through the air before she crashed into one of the awning shields tied over a carnival game.

“Vivi!” Lewis leapt out from behind the wall he took shelter beside, recoiling immediately when the Allosaur’s head skid into the corner of the solid barrier.

“Did you see that!” Vivi whooped. She jumped up and swung the bat again, like a pro-pitcher. “Lew, you were all ‘I’m gunna wrestle this dino crocodile Dun-Dee style!’ And Arthur, you’re legs got all tangled! What the heck?” She mimed out another thunder-bashing swing. “And I was like, ‘Don’t touch my dog!’ Wham!”

Arthur poked his head up from behind a stage set, Mystery latched to his skull like a koala. “Holy shit.”

Lewis gawked. “I think I’m in love.”

Arthur inched around and prodded the mechanical head with his foot. “Gimmie a break. All this time, we just had to release Vivi on it with a baseball bat. Really?”

“Well,” Lewis chuckled, “you did say the metal wasn’t very sustancial.” He stood by and let Arthur beat the living bolts out of the inactive mechanical head. “Guess it was all bark, and not bite.”

Woof. Mystery let go of Arthur and dropped to the pavement. He moved aside of the drama and flopped over. Gimmie five minutes, folks.

“Should you really be messing with that thing?” Lewis muttered. He took a full step back.

“I’m gonna get my kicks in!”

“Hey! Are you listening to me!” Vivi hurried over. “But seriously, you three okay? Mystery? All puppered out?” She leaned low using the bat as a cane, and gave the poor pooch a well-deserved head rub. “You had us worried, Artie. It’s a good thing you managed to get loose.”

The dino head stuttered, the jaw quivered and the mechanical eyes twitched. Arthur jolted and scrambled behind Lewis.

“You know how the movies go,” Lewis mentioned.

Arthur peeked out. “This isn’t a movie. It should’ve shut down completely, with the power source severed.” He noted Lewis had a vacant and very concerned stare, and followed the line of sight to where the Allosaur was squirming. Trying to stand, with no head. “Welp, that looks horrifying!”

Whatever calibrated the Allosaur’s balance was gone, and also it shuffled sideways onto the collapsed basket court netting. The talons couldn’t coordinate and untangle from the woven netting, forcing the thing to topple sideways over and over.

“I… guess it’s not going anywhere?” Lewis speculated.

“But did you see me? Wasn’t that amazing? I never swung so hard in my whole damn life!” Vivi threw herself at Lewis, and he caught her in his arms.

“I was a bit preoccupied with not getting trampled. But yeah, that was something else!” Lewis was about to pull Vivi in closer, but his attention snapped to a figure a distance from their gathering. A secluded, isolated figure strategically placed within the shade of the arcade patio, sifting through the gloom only enough to view the fate of the Allosaur.

When he refocused altogether, Vivi’s curiosity searched for the cause. She frowned when her eyes alit on the same suspect. “Let’s see if we can get around him and—” The spectator either got wise to their sudden shift in mood, or freaked out completely on the loss of their asset. They took off.

Vivi tore out of Lewis’ arms and snatched up the bat. Losing no time, she darted around the corny carnival tent stations. “I’ve had it with you!” She lined up with the guy, still barred on one side by the boarder of the shuttered-up arcade wall. There was no time to waste. With a decisive swing, the bat went whirling through the air like a saw.

And cracked the wall short of her target. The guy kept running, but cast a fretful look over their shoulder.

“Drat!”

Lewis charged up behind her, winding back his arm. “My turn!” The basketball flew like it was shot out of a cannon and slammed directly into the person’s back, launching them two feet into the air. “Score!”

The person recovered quickly, though they hadn’t gotten their bearing together. Before they could take a full and not lopsided-tipsy step, Lewis grabbed them from behind. The two toppled forward, Lewis on top of the guy and holding one of his wrists.

“We gunna do this quietly, or you wanna make it ugly?”

“Let me go!” The person shouted. “You don’t have the right!”

“We don’t, do we?” Vivi retorted. She knelt beside the guy as he struggled, but Lewis was pressing measured weight onto the person. “This is a citizens arrest, my fine fellow. It would be in your best interest to cooperate until the police arrive, and we can sort this all out.”

“What am I being arrested for?”

Lewis pulled the person’s hoody back. “Being shady as fuck, that’s one,” he muttered.

“Trespassing,” Vivi quipped. “I don’t recognize you, which is interesting. But I know someone who might.”

“You! You can’t do this!” he snarled. Lewis pulled his other arm back, and Vivi applied one of the parks unbreakable wrist bands. “This is unlawful! I’ll sue!”

“Oh no, oh please don’t.” Lewis hefted the guy onto his feet and kept him steady. “In all my life, I have never been threatened in such a way. Oh, the sleepless nights I’ll suffer.” He ushered the guy ahead, making sure to keep his elbows restrained.

“But did you see that pitch!” Vivi proclaimed. “Out of this world!”

Lewis snickered. “Oh Dio mío, Vivi. Calm down.”

When they returned to the site where the Allosaur had its head cleaved off, the animatronic nuisance was still wallowing in the tattered remnants of the basketball netting. Large squeaky toys and some of the sport balls rolled around, or completely pulverized by the broken machine struggling to function without essential system readers. It looked very much like a cocooned lizard, or a spool of finely spun thread – in a clunky mess.

Above the wall where the Allosaur head dropped, Arthur sat with Mystery at his side; the dogs head resting on his lap. He was giving the tuckered pupper shoulder massages after his traumatic and daring evening.

“Ooh, you really did get someone,” he praised. “Y’sure that’s the guy, though?”

“Did you call the police?” Lewis prompted.

Arthur cringed down. “That’s Vivi’s job.”

“You really going to do this?” the guy seethed. “Assaulted me, and now you’re trying to frame me for some… crime!” He struggled at Lewis’ grip, but made no profound effort to break loose.

Vivi whistled. The Mystery dog shot his head up, ears high. “Mystery, hunny. We have a very special job for you.”

Mystery slid back from Arthur and did that dog stretch, with his fore paws stretched all the way forward and his dog claws stretched to their fullest. With a shake of his pelt, he did a roll and flopped off the backside of the wall. Arthur watched this play out, apathetic.

“Absolutely,” Arthur chimed. “You’re our guy.”

“This is slander!” The guy erupted. Arthur lunged over the wall to hide.

Vivi hauled out her backpack and located her phone. “I’m callin’ the cops.”

It wasn’t actually the police that Vivi called, it was the security office, then the security office reached out to the appropriate department. While they waited for security to show up, Lewis returned Arthur’s backpack to him, and Arthur got to work on compiling the evidence the group collected. This evidence included the pictures Lewis caught while he and Arthur investigated around the park, and serial numbers from the materials torn from the Allosaur’s arm. He stuffed all of this onto two USBs the police could have, which was standard procedure for the group.

At length, Mystery trotted back over with something in his teeth.

“Nice going,” Arthur praised. “Didn’t crack it or anything. Clean as a whistle.”

Vivi snatched the phone from Arthur and held it up to the guy, currently seated on the inactive Allosaur head. “How ‘bout you unlock this for us?”

He glared at the device, the locked screen gleamed in his face. “I’ve never seen this before. Ever. I have no idea what’s going on here.” He checked on Lewis at his side, keeping him stationary with his presence alone.

“Mm hmm.” She swept away, and returned the phone back to Arthur. Without a word, Arthur began tapping at the screen. He knelt on the ground beside Mystery, while the hound observed with all the intensity of a teacher overseeing his student. “Yet, you’re not curious about all this crazy we got here.” She motioned a hand towards the broken Allosaur.

The machine body at long last ceased moving. It looked creepy, bent and knotted up the way it was.

“Question.” Arthur rose and moved closer to the guy, holding the phone all the way out to the full extent of his arm. “This you?”

It was a selfie of the guy.

Vivi took the phone and continued scrolling. “Was it really a good idea documenting the whole process of building your dino?”

He scoffed. “You can’t prove I built it.”

“You built animatronics though.” Vivi stuck the phone into a plastic baggy Arthur produced. “Not a lot of people can do that. Your friends, they have a very specialized skillset.” She took the baggy from Arthur and held it toward the guy. “You wouldn’t happen to have their pics on the phone, would you? Of course not, who would do that?”

A large hand capped down on the guy’s shoulder, and Lewis stooped. “It would be a shame if they could be cited as accomplices. Not that we’d touch the topic, pero ya sabes, that is evidence for the authorities to pick—”

“They let me go from the team,” the guy blurted. He dropped his gaze from Vivi’s unimpressed face, and scrutinized his shoes. “When they found out I used parts from another job, to build a substitute.”

Vivi nodded. “You and your colleagues began work for a competitor to Fanatical Hypes ™, and that resulted in the bust contract. A violation. But then you took it upon yourself to sabotage Geoff’s park, and make him fold under the pressure of those lost profits, so he’d compensate for the assets. Do I have that right?”

The guy took a deep breath. “It’s not that simple. It was a percentile in those cancelled payments, and they still have to do something with the skins. A lot of uppity businesses do this all the time, and commissions are hard enough to get right without the client throwing a fit in the midst of finalizations. And getting the courts to recognize contract agreements, it’s a bitch! You get that?”

“Yeah,” Vivi uttered. “We know what that’s like.”

Where he sat beside the wall, Mystery tilted his head and raised one ear.

The guy dipped his head further. “Trust me, I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“I sort of have a hard time believing the, ‘oh woes and pity me’ spiel,” Lewis grumbled. He still loomed over the cringing guy, face stern. “The animatronics you built.”

“And programed,” Arthur prompted.

“And programed. They’re not toys, they’re super dangerous when not handled correctly. You put an AI in a bulldozer that identifies as a raptor, and set it loose in a recreational setting.”

“Lovin’ the PSA vibe.” Arthur remained seated by the wall working on his computer to compile essential info, fully engrossed in shuffling files. “Also, you kidnapped me and shoved lots of threats in my face.”

“Did he?” Lewis growled. “That’s seriously F’ed up.”

“Boys-boys.” Vivi pushed Lewis back, before he could… likely haul the guy off the ground and throttle him. “That’s not our business anymore. Now, this becomes law enforcement jurisdiction.” She pointed to a series of golfcarts ambling in their general direction. She looked to the guy. “Our job ended with the Allosaur’s capture. But I recommend you cooperate with the authorities. They’re usually a lot less forgiving than us.”

“Y’know dude,” Arthur stood, and ejected one of the USBs from his computer. “You could’ve just not messed around with us. Taken the dishwasher with teeth and vamoosed. But making a statement, and gettin’ Geoff to crumble under the pressure meant more. You’re lucky, you know that.” He tossed the USB to Vivi.

The guy frowned. “How am I lucky? I’m going to jail for this.”

Arthur shrugged. “We stopped ya before this could escalate. You think soulless corporate would cave, and pay out what he’s not putting to use?” He shook his head, and sat on the wall, finishing up the last USB. “We got you before someone could get seriously hurt. But sure, it’s our fault.”

The golf carts arrived and the enlisted law enforcement along with Fanatical Hypes ™ escort, took over the situation of officially taking the guy into custody. The engineers names was Yandel Jenkins, and there was a little more information about his history tied to the group of creatures builders that supplied assets to the theme park. However, since that was out of the Mystery Skulls hands, Arthur finished compiling and cross referencing the evidence that was collected and handed over the USBs. Whatever else the park security required, they’d assemble it on their own following involved statements.

Hours later the group was on their way out of the park, it was very late and most the work crews fulfilling their nocturnal duties pilfered out. The area resumed relative normalcy, aside from the spare shift tugged out to organize the area where the Allosaur fell. That was way on the far side of the park.

“Seriously a shame,” Arthur was saying, as the crew discussed the recent case. They were going through the events, trying to figure who was where when this or that situation came about. And how Arthur managed to get stuck on a roller coaster. “All that work and talent. I don’t get why people like him do it.” He walked with his arms folded behind his head, stretching out his aching muscles from where the Allosaur pinched him.

Lewis curled a thoughtful hand over his chin. “Well, if you’re company anticipated that extra point something percentage in incurring payments, it can mean the difference in leasing and supplies. Not saying our guy was in the right, but it’s something to regard when reviewing possible motivations.”

“Oh yeah, I guess,” Arthur mumbled.

“My family started their own business,” Lewis elaborated. “Any little profit you can squeeze out go towards improving your services, or the product. They did it without cutting corners, and it was heckin’ hard. Food expires fast, car parts and oil has a longer shelf life.”

Arthur shrugged.

“I guess they’ll have the park opened tomorrow and everything,” Vivi supposed. They made their way down the last stretch, the main road to the grand entrance and exit. “We can come on by and see how it looks. Catch some more rides, if we want. Certify those lifetime passes.”

Mystery gave a little yap and bounced ahead. He wouldn’t need to wear that ridiculous vest, either.

A low groan issued from Arthur, and he fitted his hands down over his face. “I dunno, I’m kinda all vacationed out. I think I’m ready to hit the road. Seriously missin’ the cramped space of the van.”

“What about the food?” Vivi prompted. “Free food. Drinks. Treats. Desserts. Concessions.”

“Mehhh….” Mystery padded over and walked beside Arthur’s legs, bumping his knees. “Pass. Free stuff is great, but kinda burnt out on carnie goodies. Nothing beats Pepper Paradiso’s. ‘Least, when someone’s lil sisters aren’t sabotaging a perfectly good sundae.”

Lewis groaned. “I don’t even know how that’s possible. Lechería is supposed to counteract the burn.”

“Who said that was dairy?”

Vivi tried very hard not to giggle. “If that’s the final verdict, we can start snooping on where we’ll go next. Hmm? Speaking of which.” She pulled her backpack around to her front, and opened it from the side. “Got a something for our scrapbook.” Unanimously, Arthur and Lewis groaned. “I promise it’s really good.”

Pulling out a card, she began moving to one of the tall lampposts that stood beside the pathway. “Check it.” The three followed.

“Oh please, is that what I think it is.” Arthur was first to take the side of the stiff booklet, and shifted it by a fraction under the light. “No, Vivi!”

“What?” Lewis posed. Arthur handed him the card, and he flipped the cover back. “Oh no! Vivi!”

She pulled her collar higher over her lower face. “The machine automatically printed it, I guess. I couldn’t leave it, you both look… excited.”

“Excitement is an understatement!” Arthur whooped. He reached for the card, but Lewis held it up high out of his reach. “Gimmie! I don’t want my near-death experience immortalized!”

Lewis backed away, pushing Arthur off before he could climb up his shoulders. “C’mon Artie! Calm down, we got out of this unscathed.”

“Unscathed! My arm is numb still!”

“Relatively,” Lewis insisted. “It’s a memento. We’ll keep it, and check it out sometimes to remind us to be more careful. Suena bien?” He arched his arm high over Arthur’s head, and handed the card back to Vivi. She secluded it away in her backpack, where it would be safe.

“Mark my words!” Arthur hastened his steps, leaving the protective cone of light. “When you least expect it, I’ll chuck that incriminating evidence!” Mystery barked and scurried after him.

“Admit it!” Vivi slapped an arm around Arthur’s lower back. “You love it! Ten years from now, we’ll have a great ol’laugh.”

Lewis joined on the other side, nearly throwing the two over as he put his arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “I’m laughin’ right now. Don’t deny it. You’re smiling. Don’t smile, Arthur.”

“Stop! That’s not fair!” Arthur capped his hands over his face and muffled a scream.

“Try not to smile Arthur,” Vivi goaded.

“Oh, he’s blushing!”

“It’s too dark to see blushing,” Arthur countered. Regardless, he still fought to hide his face all the more. “Jerks.”

“Don’t blush Arthur,” Vivi chimed. “Don’t—”

Arthur broke free and took off in a run. “Stop it! You’re ganging up on me!”

With a jolly bark, Mystery galloped beside Arthur, his dog collar jingling. He gave off a few yips, nearly stumbling when he veered into Arthur’s legs.

“No we’re not!” Lewis called, staggering into the chase. Vivi skipped along, taking on a couple leaping bounds as they flashed under the bars of light.

“What are you trying to hide Arthur!” From the distance, Mystery barked. “Really?”

“No! Never!” Arthur vaulted through the tall cage of the turnstile and kept going. “I promise!”

Lewis crashed into the turnstile and got stuck. “You’re laughing! Whoa… HEY!” Arthur’s wild cackling rang across the dark parking lot. “HEY!”

Vivi caught up to Lewis and stood, observing. “Um?”

“A little help!”

She sighed, and got out a flashlight. “You tried to follow Arthur.” She clicked on the light. “He kinda slipped through the side here. Just come back through, carefully.”

“OoOOh.” Lewis moved back and shuffled into the opposing slot, where guests were meant to exit. Vivi crammed in with him, and the two nearly got stuck again. However, with some shoving and bickering the two made their way out safely, and caught up to Arthur and Mystery hurtling with reckless abandon.

Concluding a case was not always so brimming with mirth or effortless, despite how well everything turned out. There had been plenty of cases they walked out on, Failed Cases, too dangerous to continue through to a final conclusion. When they had the chance to celebrate, the team sometimes went all out. Or, such as the case with the Allosaur, it felt better to get back on the road and move on. Sometimes staying too long in one location, one that was not home base, it didn’t rejuvenate like the endless road.

No doubt though, by the time they arrived – or collided – with the next case, they would be primed and ready to tackle the demands. There would be fascinating creatures, thrilling perils, and challenges the Mystery Skulls crew would meet.

The night swirled around them, the four racing through the empty parking lot. It was their mission to seek out mysteries, prove what they could or debunk the frauds. Nothing but the passion for work and the ambition to find the truth, and perhaps a steady supply of coffee, fast-food, and junky tabloids.

#mystery skulls #fanfiction #mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls ghost #mystery skulls fanfic #mystery skulls fanfiction #msa fanfic #msa fanfiction #msa Alive!Lewis #fanfic #mystery skulls arthur #mystery skulls mystery #mystery skulls vivi #mystery skulls lewis #FINALLY

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prorevenge · 4 years

Text

Dispatcher refuses to send van in for maintenance. Gets forced to change my tire while I enjoy dinner on company time.

Hey all. So this is my first story on here that is squarely just a revenge. I honestly think it's a bit more pro than petty, but not really critical enough to go full nuclear, so here I am!

This story is one of how a lowly delivery driver got to royally irk a dispatcher, waste his time, get 4 hours of overtime, meal paid for, and a free beer. TL;DR below for your pleasure.

So I was a driver for a little company that rhymes with Slamazon. I had been there for several months by this point, and had developed a reputation of being very anal about vehicle maintenance. We aren't talking like washing them or whatnot, but cleaning out urine bottles, fixing broken wiper blades, installing lights to replace the burnt out ones, or other stuff that would indicate you actually remotely care for your driver's wellbeing. (Seriously guys, I had a van once with no working lights of any kind, and the passenger side door fell off its hinges right in front of my dispatchers, and they still sent me out). Needless to say, some trips were better than others, but this particular time, well, it was a doozy.

You see, friends, I was considered a problem driver by some for being obsessed with vehicles being kept road legal. I had not caused any issues other than this. We had dispatchers that were promoted up after a month, and after hitting mailboxes, cars, and other kinds of insanity, but I was always skipped over. This naturally irked me to no end, and I was looking for better within 6 months of starting. (I was there for nearly 2 years)

Naturally, all my requests for the essential equipment and urine bottle removal was denied, so I'd buy bulbs for my van, and pull them out after my route was done so I could put them into the next one the next day, and I chucked piss bottles out on the record. Kinda gross, but better than smelling it in the hot Georgia sun in the middle of summer in a van with sometimes working AC. This nonsense continued for the entirety of my time there, of course. This event however was the first of many times I decided to get back at the dispatchers for messing with my routes, and giving me the worst vans, and so on.

You see, this van had the lights that were bad. Broken AC. Shook like mad. Squeaked. Smelled like piss, and musty taco farts. Door didn't properly lock so anybody could have stole packages from it, and not much could be done. And to top this all off, 4 bad tires. Like, metal bands exposed, and one bulging out in it's death throws. The whole day, I babied this van as best I could. Putting air in the tire a few times, and just barely finished my route with some daylight to spare. So, 10 hours on the road down, and an hour and a half back to the distribution center. I get underway, and get about half way before I felt the tell tail shake of a tire going out.

"Well shit, here we go." I say to myself, and scan my surroundings. I am on the interstate, and not very far from an off ramp. So with what little tire I have left. I limp off the ramp, and to a parking lot which is right next to an Applebees (perfect luck, all things considered). I call dispatch, and give my exact location, and tell them what happened. The conversation goes as thus.

Me-Chucketbucket007, hello, again guys! Dipfuck- Dipshit dispatcher

That's it.

Me- Hey, I got a flat over here at (my location) Dipfuck- What? How? Me- Because you sent me out in a van that needed tires? Dipfuck- Fine, whatever, everyone has gone home, so you are gonna have to wait till I get there. Me- Sure. That's fine. I'll stay clocked in, then. Dipfuck- Uh-huh. You finished your route, so I don't see why you would be on the clock. Me- Because I am still in command of this vehicle, I have the keys, and if you want me to give it back, you are going to keep me on the clock.

I had called the company HR, and explained everything before I called dispatcher, and they ensured me that my time would be recorded.

Dipfuck- ...FINE, I have things to do tonight, so we gotta hurry up.

Perfect. Time to screw with this guy.

After giving him extremely vague directions while I enjoy a steak meal, and a large beer (on the clock, and no fucks given anymore) he finally finds it. I go out there, and see that he has brought the smallest, saddest, most not suitable for the task jack in the center.

Me- Well get to it, you made me leave with this van, and you can change the tire.

Dipfuck- NUH-UH, YOU WERE DRIVING IT, AND..

I interject.

Me- Drivers are not allowed, but company policy to perform repairs to the van. (He had yelled at me previously for doing this with the bulbs) only dispatch, management, maintenance, and the repair shop can repair the van.

So I walk away to finish my meal, while he tries to fix this flat with a jack barely able to lift the front of the vehicle, and needed bricks, and other items to even go high enough. In total, I wasted 4 hours of his time, cost him time to smoke up, and he missed the game that he apparently had money on. I got my meal effectively for free with the hefty overtime I got that week.

And as an extra smackdown, corporate came in, and fired the manager, assistant manager, and this particular dispatcher for failure to maintain the vehicles to DOT standards, and for mismanaging the DSP (delivery service provider) after my lovely chat with HR during the incident. I showed them the text messages, and some of the recorded audio I had taken of dispatcher being a general douchecanoe.

A week later, and we had a temp management comprised of corporate operations that would oversee the vans getting replaced with less shitty ones, training new management, and of course, giving training on what to do if you have a vehicle fail like that, and granting drivers some maintenance permissions.

TL;DR make drivers drive a van that is unfit for service, get nuked by a pissed off driver with little to lose.

(source) story by (/u/Chucketbucket007)

#prorevenge #by /u/Chucketbucket007 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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mercyparkgirl · 4 years

Text

the roommate

Pairing: Logan x MC (implied)

Warnings: angst, ptsd

Word Count: ~1835

Summary: Set after the events of Ride or Die, my MC (Ellie Wheeler) adjusts to her new life, from the perspective of herself and her roomate, Sophie.

Notes: So... this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written! Always been too nervous to post but with @rodappreciationweek I figured why not. Hope you enjoy!

_________________________

sophia.

My roommate’s name was Ellie, from Los Angeles. We only texted a little before move-in day at Langston, and I really hoped we would get along. My older brother had told me horror stories about his freshman roommate, some of which I believed, most which I guessed he made up to scare me. Still, those stories had taken root in my mind and I found myself with a little more than first-day anxiety as mom fussed over the fitted bed sheet and position of the throw pillows in my new room.

“Hi” a soft voice spoke from the door and I turned around quickly to greet the girl in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back and I squealed as I noticed her Langston sweatshirt, gesturing at the identical one I was wearing. She laughed at that, and to her surprise I launched forward to give her a hug. She only tensed for a moment before hugging me back, and with the ice seemingly broken we settled comfortably into unpacking and setting up the room.

I felt definitively uncool as my mom chattered on and on, immediately conscious of the fact that Ellie apparently didn’t need her mom to make her bed for her. I caught her a couple of times smiling softly at my mom with a longing look in her eyes I couldn’t quite place and I wondered what she thought of me.

Ellie certainly didn’t seem to have as much stuff as I did, and certainly not my plant habit that was rapidly turning into an addiction. The only thing she set on her desk was a framed photograph which she removed from a box full of tissue paper with great care, running a hand quickly over the glass before setting it down. I snuck a look at it as I pushed a succulent into her hands, insisting that she have something else to liven up her side of the room.

She and an unusually attractive boy, both dressed in formal attire, stared fiercely into the camera as if daring someone to oppose them, his arm wrapped protectively around her. His eyes were dark and powerful, while hers were full of a righteous fury and passion that seemed both completely out of place and extraordinarily natural on her features.

Ellie and I spent that night and the next few weeks getting to know each other. We bonded over both being from the West Coast, though Tacoma is very different from LA. She was smart, though she had the air of a student who wasn’t used to being surrounded by people at her level. We had no classes together but it was easy to fall into the rhythm of studying together in the library or student union building every night. I was so lucky to have her for the transition to college, and I hoped she felt the same.

She wanted stories about my siblings, my parents, the plays I’d been in during middle school, and I was more than happy to talk without realizing that I was learning very little about her in return. Still, I managed to pick up on some things. She spun her charm bracelet when she got excited about something, and fiddled with some strange object on a chain around her neck when she thought no one was looking, a far-away look on her face.

For a girl who owned so many leather jackets and an apparently very impressive car (The only thing I care about less than cars are the Kardashians and essential oils) she was surprisingly sweet and funny, enough that I was shocked the first time I saw her in short sleeves.

“Is that a real tattoo?” I exclaimed, not giving her time to answer. “That is so cool. I really wanted one when I was 16 and my sister told me she’d poke me with a needle for free. What is it? A wolf? Badass. Do you have a whole pack of them?”

She laughed and pulled a jacket on. “It’s a lone wolf, I’m afraid. Ran away from its pack.”

I’m a light sleeper which I always considered a curse in a house full of noisy siblings, but I was glad of it the first time I woke up in the middle of the night to a scream, sleepily flicking on the light to see her writhing in her bed. I threw back the covers and sat down on her bed, gently shaking her shoulder until she woke up gasping, nails digging into my arm. For just a moment I swore I could see the ghosts of great flames in her eyes, fading back into embers as she realized where she was.

I wrapped my arms around her and she sat still for a few long moments before squeezing my arm and standing up.

“I think… I think I’m going to go for a drive. Thank you Soph.” I wanted to wait up for her but I fell asleep on top of my sheets.

The nightmares happened again, and then again. Some nights she would just curl back into the blankets, or open the window before falling back to sleep.

And some nights she would grab the keys from her nightstand and leave without a word. I’d be asleep before she came home, or maybe she never came back to bed those nights. Maybe she drove until the morning sun stretched her fingers above the horizon and began her slow crawl to the other side.

ellie.

When I left LA, it felt like the ending of a story. The closing of a book. But I’m starting to realize life doesn’t work like that. Nobody gets happy endings or tidy conclusions. Life just… keeps going. And it’s up to us whether we can stay afloat or get lost in the riptide, losing ourselves in the memories and regrets.

Don’t get me wrong, nothing could take away the magic of stepping out of my car at the place I had dreamed about since I was old enough to dream, completely and terrifyingly on my own. No curfew, no explanations needed. I could reinvent myself. It would be a brand new start. But as I subconsciously ran a hand over the smooth hood of my Widow I remembered the first time I had seen her, sleek and dangerous and mine in Kaneko’s shop, how the leather of the seats smelled like home, and I knew forgetting wasn’t an option. And maybe I didn’t want it to be.

I had never shared a room with anyone, unless you count sleepovers with Riya or the week I spent in Logan’s loft above the shop. But Sophia made it feel like I’d been missing out. She was kind and open and welcoming from the moment I stepped in the room. She was brilliant, too, even for Langston standards which were far above what I was used to at Mar Vista Prep. I quickly realized that there would be little time to fully appreciate the lack of parental control given my heavy workload.

I had a couple classes with Ingrid and was surprised by how happy I was to see her. I needed to get out of LA but it would always be the place I was from and she represented a piece of my past. A reminder of a time in my life that I might have convinced myself never really happened if not for her. We were friendly and the fun kind of competitive, but didn’t hang out much outside of class, though I felt that either one of us would be happy to if the other one asked. I made a lot of acquaintances very quickly, a few of which turned tentatively into friends, but I mostly hung out with Soph when I wasn’t in class.

My dad and I talked nearly every day for the first couple weeks, which gradually turned into every weekend. We never talked for long, classes were “going well”, work was “busy”. I loved him, of course, but I found it hard to shake the image of him pointing a gun at the man I loved, face tight with bitter fury.

I knew Colt was still in LA, and I hesitantly tried to inquire about the specifics of my dad’s latest assignments. He must have figured what my real question was because he got quiet for a moment then said “I think it’s best if we don’t talk about that. Best to leave it in the past.”

I didn’t mention it again, or ask about Mona which had been my next idea. But it was hard to leave Logan in the past when I’d spent so much time seeing him as my future. I texted his number a couple times even though I knew he’d no longer have it, pitiful ‘I love you’s when I felt so lonely it was hard to breathe.

At night my fingers would trace the places his had until the memories of his rough hands on my body were blurred with my own and I was no longer sure if he had ever touched me at all. If not for the spark plug I wore around my neck and the picture of us at prom I kept next to a succulent Soph had given me, I wouldn’t be sure he ever existed at all.

I was ok most of the time and on occasion, I wasn’t. I cried sometimes and I didn’t even know why. I grew to fear lying in bed because the thoughts threatened to crush me, my brain forcing myself to relive every moment of that spring and asking me what I should have done differently. And when I finally, finally got to sleep I had nightmares.

Jason looming over me, larger than life, hands reaching out as my feet stuck to the ground, my car nowhere to be seen. Or a blazing inferno on the bridge, Colt’s screams of pain and grief pounding in my ears, his face twisted in an agony I could have prevented. Kaneko’s voice a whisper in my skull “Once you’ve made your choice it is made. You hold true until the end.”

The fire from the explosion spreads, higher and farther than I remember it, the flames taking Jason’s shape, and my father’s, consuming me completely until I wake up, sweating and throat hoarse with Sophia’s soft hands on my shoulder.

Sometimes I can get back to sleep, but sometimes I know I won’t be able to. On those nights I grab my keys and run down to my Widow, no jacket so I can feel the wind on as much of my body as possible. At that hour the streets are sleepy and I can make it to the freeway in 10 minutes. And as the lights passing by turn into stars, spinning above my head, I drive. And in that moment I can hear their laughter, their whoops and cheers. In that moment, as I fly into the night... I’m not alone.

#RoDaw #rod #ride or die #choices rod #rod choices #playchoices #choices #logan x mc #pixelberry #pixelberry choices #fanfic #choices fanfic #fanfiction #choices fanfiction #logan #rod logan

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samsterham · 4 years

Text

I want to write something about Sarah, heaven forbid my memory fails me someday.

She came to us with a broken femur. She was 92. Her surgery to repair it went well. She was 92, but still had things to do. She followed all the doctor's orders. She worked hard with physical therapy every time they came to see her. She worked hard to maintain her independence.

All the time she loved us, her caregivers. She was one of those patients that really made you love the job. She made it so you even appreciated the dirtier, less pleasant work. She made you want to do it just by being herself. She asked us about OUR days, how WE were doing, she wanted to hear about OUR lives.

Her children visited in some combination every day. Every single one of them was as sweet as her. They frequently gifted us with food & smiles & gratitude.

Next thing we knew, aweek had passed & she stopped progressing. We were so sure we would be able to send her to a skilled facility for rehab by now. But things kept going wrong. Small things that kept adding up. Preexisting comorbidities that previously had been fairly in control were beginning to bubble up to the surface. But she wasn't ready to succumb yet. She had things to do, life to live, people to love.

She ended up being on our floor close to a month. As one can imagine, there's a tendency to really get to know a patient when they're with you that long & you see them at least 3-4 days a week, 12 hours a day.

She loved to celebrate our good days with us, she loved to hear about our partners, children, activities outside of work. She also encouraged us to speak of our exasperations to her, so long as we were comfortable. It was impossible to be uncomfortable with her in any capacity. Inevitably, we opened ourselves to her as much as she did us & the lines between professional & personal would blur.

She keep deteriorating. She grew increasingly weaker despite her efforts with physical therapy, her consistency with eating & drinking & medication compliance, & her determination to keep doing her own ADL's as much as possible.

Sometime in week 3 her ability to swallow began to fail. She was given a nasogastric tube for nutrition & most meds. Unfortunately, the nutrition they supply have a tendency to wreal havoc on the GI tract & accidents are common.

She had managed to get from the bed to her recliner with PT, but had not been helped back before they left for the day, so the task fell upon us. We went to move her & her legs would. Not. Respond. Not even the uninjured leg. You could see the panic in her eyes as she tried & strained only to completely fail to summon the strength. It ended up taking a small group of us techs & nurses to get her up & pivot to the bed.

Once she was in the bed, I was tasked with cleaning her up a bit, which had become necessary due to the exertion. As I was washing her, she began sobbing.

She lamented how she had come to this point. The day she fell & broken her hip she had been driving her car. She was still living alone. She was walking & shopping. She was doing her chores, seeing her children & grandchildren & friends & going to church. She was still cooking & cleaning and & hosting. "No one has wiped my ass but me in 90 years, now I can't even do that myself!"

It's hard to know exactly what to say to people when it comes to this, when their minds & spirits are fully intact but their bodies fail & they're suddenly nearly or completely helpless. All you can do is listen, gently validate their feelings, assure them that there is absolutely no shame in what's happening to them. That you are in no way judging them & you are here to help in any way possible. In this specific case, I made the decision to offer up a little of my own vulnerability as well.

I told her about The Snow Mound Incident ™️. I prefer to spare this particular audience many of the details, as it is not for the squeamish. Essentially, I found myself in a predicament very similar to her most acute GI upset, which we were handling as we spoke. A key difference being well, a mound of snow at a ski resort in western NY state.

I asked her first if she was in a place mentally to hear the story, & if she was then I wanted to tell it because I felt it might lift her spirits a bit. She obliged.

I set the scene. I provided the necessary context & events which led to my misfortune. I embelished small bits & built up proper suspense. I drew it out just enough & imbibed as much comedic value & timing as I possibly could, then dropped the climactic bomb at the expense of my dignity. By the time I was finished her whole body was trembling. She was still crying but this time it was because her laughter was so intense.

She was still cracking up as I tucked her in & tidied up around me. I asked if she felt better. She said yes, thanked me, and hugged me goodnight.

I was off a few days & when I returned she had yet again taken a turn for the worse. Her doctors, nurses & therapists were rapidly running out of ideas. Her body just seemed to be giving up no matter how hard she fought. When I arrived, I was informed that her, her children & her doctors had mutually decided to stop fighting & she had been put on comfort measures.

Needless to say, this was devastating to everyone. All of us on the unit had become so invested in her & had come to love her dearly. It's never easy to lose a patient, but it's so much more difficult when they & their team work & fight so hard only for their bodies to still fail them.

She hung on almost another week. Her children & grandchildren were there around the clock. We turned a blind eye when 2 or 3 of them would stay the night.

I dreaded being off another few days, afraid I would come back & she would be gone. After I clocked out before my 2 day break, I spent some extra time with her & her family in her hospital room. Christmas had come & gone & the decorations from her children & grandchildren still adorned her hospital room. The lights were off save for the the gentle Christmas lights lining her window. We talked & laughed & held hands for awhile then we took time saying goodbye. Everyone in that room hugged me so warmly & spoke so kindly. Sarah was groggy but still lucid. She too hugged me tight, thanked me for taking such good care of her. She said she felt so lucky to have ended up on our unit, with our staff & that she loved us all & wished us nothing less than wonderful futures. I got in the car & sobbed.

The day I came back I had been moved from day to night shift. She somehow knew it was her last day. She knew I would be working that night. I clocked in at 5 minutes to 7 then made a B-line down the hall to her room.

Before I got there a cathartic sort of commotion sprang from her room.

As I stepped through her doorway, one of her children cried upon seeing me. "Oh Sam! You JUST missed her!"

She was gone. She ceased to breathe seconds before I got there, on New Years Eve, 2016.

They told me she had been asking about me all day. She knew she was leaving imminently & tried to hold on to say goodbye to the night shift crew.

We all started hugging & crying together. Several of my coworkers entered the room & we all hugged & cried.

More of us than necessary helped give her body a final bath & fresh linens. She truly looked peaceful. She looked beautiful & better than she had the last 2 weeks.

After completing my routine duties with my patients I went & had another cry in the breakroom.

A few weeks later we recieved a letter from her family. It praised all of us, from the doctors to us aides for our work, dedication, compassion, & love. They named 6 or 7 of us by name, myself included.

I copied that letter & hung it in my locker. I read it every shift, sometimes more than once if the shift was rough. That letter got me through some really tough days.

I don't have a huge reason for writing this tonight other than I was thinking about her, missing her, & missing my job. I felt like more people needed to know about Sarah & how amazing she was. I guess I hope too that anyone in the medical field who stumbles across this gets a boost from it. Things are historically tough for us all right now, notably those of us in the field. People are burning out extra fast & extra intensely. But maybe this will serve as a reminder of why we do this, & how mutually impactful patients & providers can be to each other.

May Sarah & her memory always keep me grounded & focused on why I do this. I love you Ms Sarah, thank you for all you did for me too.

#nurse aide #orthopedic nursing #nursing #nurse #student nurse #nursing student #orthopedics #nursing essays #essay #love #medicine

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crimsonfacets · 3 years

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💘 Jiggies this in here for the demon wifes uwu

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

When Vaggie fell into Hell, she was drowning in a sea of tormented souls. It was a nightmare, and it was very, very painful. Charlie was the one who helped pull her to the surface and the first to hold her, as well as comfort her. It was a very impactful first meeting that led to Vaggie forming a very powerful trust in Charlie from the get-go, and for someone like her, that sort of thing is hard to achieve.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

Long! Playful flirtations were part of their aesthetic, but of course, somewhere along the way, things got very, very real.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

They’re a tale as old as time in Hell, because both started falling just around the same time. I’m not sure what happened, but I feel as though some sort of event happened with the two of them that begun their slip into a very deep, very true love with one another. I think it’d be fun to figure out what exactly happened. :)c

where their first date was and what it was like

I feel like Charlie might have suggested a bowling alley due to being so flustered, so their first date was at one of the most flashy and theatric bowling alleys in the First Ring. A very neon-palette place! Very fun, honestly. Vaggie wasn’t too sure about it since she’d never been bowling before, but they ended up having a blast! Vaggie even asked what took them both so long to do this.

Afterwards, they both went for a drive to one of the best lookout points in Pentagram City and spent a few hours sitting atop the limo just.. snuggled up, and talking. Razzle and Dazzle wrapped them up with a shared blanket before leaving them to have their privacy. It was really nice, and they both just flatout fell asleep like that and woke up in Charlie’s room.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

While I vibe with their canon story of them just having clicked together, I feel like after they both confessed, Charlie asked Vaggie out with panache; an enormous display of flowers formed into a heart with Vaggie’s name spelled out in the middle. Tons of stuffed toys and balloons. Cute cupcakes with little purple moths and goats on them. A bouquet of roses and being down on one knee.

Vaggie was very overwhelmed, but she loved it so much.

who proposes first

Charlie, for sure. Vaggie doesn’t have the confidence for it.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

Pfff, as if they’d keep their love a secret. They’re proud of their love and are not hiding it! Everyone knew they were an item almost right away. Vaggie was a little nervous when it came to Charlie’s parents though, but Lilith&Lucifer had already far accepted her as a member of the family unbeknownst to her. The friendship she’s had with Charlie has a history and a fond one at that, so she’s been in the Magne fold for quite some time now. It was no shock to either of them that they both wound up like this.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

On Vaggie’s birthday. Charlie always does Vaggie’s birthday up big, even if it’s a closed event with just the two of them, plus R&D. This time, Charlie’s taken Vaggie up top to the Mortal Realm and they’re having a wonderful dinner in a very luxurious suite at a hotel that Vaggie has always wanted to stay in but had the funds to. It’s a private event and it’s a dream.

Charlie uses her magic and she summons some fireworks to enchant her beloved, and while she’s distracted, she gets on one knee and takes out a very gorgeous ring in an onyx band. Vaggie immediately senses something is going on, something more than it seems, and glances down, and nearly jumps out of her skin before immediately having tears just pour down her cheeks as she covers her mouth.

When Charlie pops the question, she even uses Vaggie’s real name. Priscilla López.

Of course, Vaggie says yes after tackling Charlie and smothering her in teary, teary kisses.

if they adopt any pets together

Maybe in the future when things are more stabilized and less at risk. A pet’s a big responsibility and they’re both very busy girls right now who are constantly on the go, and neither are irresponsible. I think a pet that’s independent could be good for them if they both wanted one, like perhaps a very regal and very lethal Hell Feline that’s warmed up to the both of them and incredibly loyal, and very protective. THAT could be cute.

who’s more dominant

I feel like they switch, to be honest? One’s usually in the mood to take control, but they definitely have their moments where they’re both in the mood and “fight” for it lol.

where their first kiss was and what it was like

Akin to the proposal being on Vaggie’s birthday, I like to think it was on Charlie’s birthday when they first kissed, brought on by Vaggie. She stole her Princess away from the crowd and used the Witching Hour to take Charlie to the mortal realm for an hour. There, she kissed Charlie under the stars, and it blew her mind. ♥

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )

They have so much of this already people STRUGGLE with ideas of what to get them for their wedding. They have cups, they have pillowcases, they have shirts, they have shoes, they have bracelets, they have dinnerware, they have SO MUCH. SO MUCH.

It’s obvious they’re really into this. Like, really into it. Very sappy couple.

how into pda they are

Incredibly. They do not care who sees them, they’re going to snog and snuggle in public as much as they want - they refuse to censor themselves or feel ashamed of their affections. It’s very common to see their arms linked, or seeing one wrapped around the other’s waist. Kisses and getting lost in one another’s attention is something they’re prone to do, Lilith bless ‘em.

who holds the umbrella when it rains

I feel like Charlie does this and Vaggie thinks it’s the sweetest thing. Leave it to her babe to always be prepared.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

Going with the first date, I think their fallback is that bowling alley for fun. It’s just an enjoyable locale overall where they can just kick back and enjoy the food, the fun and the atmosphere. There’s a skating rink conjoined to the place, so it’s not strictly bowling - they love to go skating, too!

This is subject to change of course if it’s not fitting for Charlie, it’s just what I drummed up. c: Essentially, a really neat Arcade in Hell.

No I am not imagining them taking their kids to the skating rink for the first time and skating as a family. No, I am not crying about it.

who’s more protective

Vaggie is incredibly protective (as the Pilot has shown us!), but when it comes to serious dangers, Charlie is the Princess of Hell and it shows. She’s kind, but she won’t let anyone disrespect her wife. You don’t take shit from other demons, and you certainly don’t let them treat your wife like it.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

They’ve shared a bed before since the earlier days of their friendship! They’ve always been pretty comfortable together, even if the thought gave Charlie internal *BI PANIC*. When it comes to intimacy, however, they slipped during their friendship stage. They’d been good friends for a while (at least a year in) then suddenly whoops, they became friends with benefits after a little too much flirtation and a little too much sexual tension went overboard!

if they argue about anything

They have disagreements, but they never let it escalate into arguments. They hear each other out and they talk civil, handling it maturely. No emotional screaming, no misunderstandings.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

Oh, Vaggie for sure. She absolutely adores marking what’s hers and letting the entire world know just who Charlie belongs to.

who steals whose clothes and how often

Charlie loves to steal Vaggie’s clothes, especially her jackets and coats. Their styles are different; Charlie’s formal and snappy, and Vaggie’s more stylish and on the gothic side. She’s a little obsessed with her white feather jacket, and Vaggie just thinks that’s adorable. Meanwhile, Vaggie adores wearing Charlie’s dress shirts as sleep shirts. ♥

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

Tucked into one another. They like zero space between one another when they cuddle! One head beneath the other’s chin, limbs all wrapped around the other. A sentient knot with fingers lost in hair and lips pressed to the top of the other’s crown. If not like this, their faces are mushed together.

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

Besides affection? They really enjoy dancing together, and playing games where they get to be on the same team! They work very well together, if not sometimes losing focus because Charlie ends up goofing off and Vaggie ends up falling right after her lmao.

But, dancing. Dancing steals the top spot, for sure. They could get lost in dancing together easily, and lose sight of everything around them just as much.

how long they stay mad at each other

Not long at all. Feels bad, man. They refuse to go a day where they’re on the wrong foot, going to bed on bad terms just does not settle well in their book.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

I feel like they both like their coffee the same; black with a few spoonfuls of sugar. It’s shocking because people expect Charlie to like it super sweet, but she needs that pep to last her through the day, and Vaggie’s the same exact way. The stronger, the better! But it always needs sugar because they love that sweet note. They’ll always have a dessert tagged with it too, though. It changes, from fresh baked snickerdoodles to eclairs.

Tea, on the other hand, changes. They experiment and are always trying new blends! They’ll usually get whatever the place is serving as House rec. As a default though for home, they do enjoy their Darjeeling. Also, these girls take their tea time very seriously, especially when it’s been a chaotic week.

if they ever have any children together

Eventually, yes! Vaggie has her own issues to get through first; she’s not sure she could be worth a damn as a mother since her own screwed up with her own upbringing so royally, but with enough assurances and talking, she’ll come around. The idea of them both being mothers makes her heart flutter. :’)

I like the thought of them having a bunch of daughters, but I like the thought of them having just one, too. Depends on what we’re feeling if we get to that point! <3

if they have any special pet names for each other

Of course they do! Terms of endearment are regularly used between these two. Vaggie usually calls Charlie, “Mi Princesa”, while Charlie calls her a whole litter of names every day of the week. Sugarbear, Honeycup, Sweetie-face, Apple of my Eye.. you name it. Vaggie, astoundingly, keeps up and is impressed Charlie has not run out of anything yet.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

NO.

red is not a fan of these tropes and will avoid them like the plague.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

Clean with decorative clutter. It’s a very cool clash of worlds, with Charlie’s classy style and Vaggie’s more darker aesthetic. They have creepy-cute plushies everywhere and canopies galore in red, black and purple. The air seems to sparkle. It’s a bedroom befitting the Princess of Hell, molded with her lover.

You have walls filled with posters of Charlie’s favorite musicals and memorabilia, and Vaggie’s more.. suggestive wall art and gothic posters ranging from original work she purchased to bands. There’s a wall they decorated themselves with their own graffiti and have tacked on lots of special things they both like!

There’s a corner of the room that serves as their online area; it’s a swerving black glass table with one computer that is Vaggie’s, and next to it is Charlie’s. Their areas are very personalized, but they have two little funko pop figures of themselves meeting at the middle of their sections that they mess with and change the positions of.

The bed is, of course, vast in size. Very comfortable, like laying on a mattress filled with feathers, which makes it very hard for Vaggie to get out of bed in the morning. The general blanket is black with a holographic effect that gives it a red and purple gradient, and the white sheets below are satin with the same property. There’s a lot of big, plump pillows too - black with gradients ranging from unicorns to moths and rainbows, depending on how the casing.

They have a balcony they have their tea time on, with a black iron wrought table and chairs to fit. A porcelain tea set gifted from Lilith with an apple theme, although the cups were purchased by the girls. “Hers&Hers” theme along with the setting, from washable napkins to the silverware. To boot, the bottom of the tea cups say “I love you”.

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

Wholesome. They’ve always had their Christmases together ever since they started bonding real tight, but this domestic vibe was added when they’d begun dating. It’s the same, nothing much has changed, but now there’s themes of romance and kisses beneath the mistletoe.

It was very warm and tender. A very pleasant memory in both their minds, memories from the gift exchanges to preparing a dinner for four (themselves + R&D), then later visiting Charlie’s parents at the Castle.

Vaggie loves the memory so much. She still can’t believe she can have a very beautiful Holiday like this in Hell, but Charlie’s here proving to her that it’s possible time and again.

what their names are in each other’s phones

On Vaggie’s phone: “💖 👑 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓪 👑 💖 💍”

On Charlie’s phone: “💞 🥰 It’s Vaggie!! 🥰 💞 💍 ✨”

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )

Tea time, as mentioned before. Tea time is so crucial for both their peace of mind and generally for having a really lovely time together that’s like a mini-date-at-home. It’s a dedicated moment they both use to slow their roll and take stock, too. They both get so caught up in the business of getting the Hotel up-and-running they can oft neglect important things like eating and drinking, and just, you know, taking a break. R&D stick them to it and pull them out of their busy bee mindsets. :’>

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

My girl falls asleep FAST, but I feel like Charlie’s always the first to wake up and usually Vaggie’s own personal wake-up call!

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

They switch! Sometimes you’ll find Vaggie draped over Charlie, other times you’ll find Charlie wrapped up around the tiny lilac-gray ball that is Vaggie.

who hogs the bathroom

Their bathroom is enormous! There is no hogging, there’s using it at the same time! It’s honestly cute and hilarious to watch them both fuss around while groggily chattering, sometimes clattering together to use the mirror even though it’s like, six feet long. They just gravitate to one another and clog the other’s space, mushed together. It’s handy though, because usually they’ll help one another with brushing hair and fixing clothes!

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

It depends on who gets there first! Although Charlie’s gotten Vaggie into the habit of sparing their HELLISH little lives, she still prefers to be the one who shoos them out in case Vaggie just says, “fuck it” and SQUASHES. Hell Spiders are no laughing matter - They’ll Fuck You Up.

#(( THIS TOOK AGES BUT HONESTLY I JUST LOVE THEM SO MUCH #feel free to turn down anything! this is just what I came up with uwu I hope you like it!! ♥ ♥ ♥ ))#『 vaggie / &charlie. 』 ❝ baby girl; heaven is a place in hell with you. ❞#『 blog / dash games. 』 ❝ roll that wheel of fortune! ❞#『 blog / asks. 』 ❝ IT CAME FROM THE MAILBOX. ❞#idyllicserendipity #long post

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

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The sharing bed prompts I loveee that shit. What about “person A hogs all the covers and person B’s solution is to spoon them” and “does that feel good” with Rami as person B?

All right—I took some liberties with this prompt, and while it isn’t smut, it is fluffy and fun. Perhaps there needs to be a Part II, but for now, here you go : )

Y/N is the press tour director for Bohemian Rhapsody, so essentially, she is in charge of the boys. This is totally AU-ish, and this is also the first time I’ve written Joe and Gwil. Forgive me if it’s bad.

* * * * *

Having been on the road with the boys for several weeks, I knew it was never anything that was going to make my life easier when they started being exhaustingly charming to me and only me.

“Cut the shit, boys. What do you want?”

Rami grinned, but I shook my head, “Nope—don’t try that either. What do you want?”

Rami’s smile faltered, and he sighed. He licked his lips, tucking his bottom one between his teeth, and I turned away, refusing to let any of his ticks affect me now.

Everyone on the tour could see the way we looked at each other, but I had a job to do. Rami was an actor, and this press tour was only going to be one small part of his life. But for me, this press tour’s success could send my name right to the top of the PR list, ensuring I’d never have to work three jobs to make ends meet again.

And no one, no one knew that.

This was Hollywood; people weren’t interested in the rags to riches story anymore. All that mattered was what your life looked like, so I made sure to consistently project a strong, confident woman with nothing to lose.

Except that right now, it sounded like I was going to be forced to make a very difficult decision: to keep up appearances by giving over to the boys’ demands, or to buckle, revealing how much the success of this tour really meant for me.

Joe stepped forward and popped onto the edge of the desk in my hotel room, crossing his legs and changing his voice to a high, nasally pitch.

“Well, ya see Mista Sheffield,” Joe said in his best Fran Fine impression, “as the nanny, it’s clear ya been makin’ these kids work way too hard. If they don’t get a break, it could be very bad for their health—and yours,” he added with a wink.

Sighing, I pushed back from my desk and looked at Joe, who re-crossed his legs and batted his eyes.

“I’ll consider your offer if you put on one of Nanny Fine’s skirts, Mazzello.”

“Uh, did you not see the pictures of us in drag? Only Rami’s got the stems to pull that look off.”

I flicked my eyes over to Rami and he smiled, although it was a shyer smile than usual. However, I didn’t look back at Joe. Rami was almost always the leader of their schemes, so I asked, for the third time, what exactly they wanted.

“Since our stop in the next city has been delayed, we thought we could have some time to . . . explore Italy.”

“And?”

“We want to rent a car—”

You started shaking your head no, but Rami pressed on.

“We want to rent a car and drive. We have plenty of time to get there—”

“And if something goes wrong? My god Rami—we are talking about an extra 48 hours, not a week!”

“Nothing will go wrong. You have my word.”

“Those are the most famous last words in every movie, television show, and novel produced in the last century!” I said, my voice rising as I stood up from the desk chair.

“We’ve already mapped it out and it only takes twelve hours longer than the train you have scheduled,” Rami spoke in a rush, moving to stand in front of me and to grasp my upper arms. “We have our cell phones. And . . .”

“And?” I prompted.

“And you’ll be with us,” Rami finished, his voice low and soothing as his eyes burned into mine.

I had to close my eyes to escape his spell because what he was saying was actually not as unreasonable of a request as I had been sure it was going to be. Backing away from Rami’s grip, I sat down on my bed with a plop.

“What does Gwil say?”

“It was his idea.”

“Oy vey,” I said, flopping back onto the bed.

The bed bounced as Joe landed beside me, perfectly propped up on his elbow.

“Soooo maaaa, what do ya say?”

“If—oof,” I said bouncing as Rami landed on my other side.

“If Joseph Mazzello agrees to never impersonate The Nanny again, we can take the car.”

The boys laugh and plant twin kisses on my cheeks and I give them both a hard shove away from me.

“But if anything, ANYTHING happens, I am holding you, Rami Malek, personally responsible,” I said as I stood up and glowered down at him.

“Ooo, Ram, man. That means she’s docking your pay.”

“Don’t care, Joey!” Rami cried as he exaggeratedly sniffed the air. “Can you smell that?”

“What . . . should I be smelling . . .”

“It’s the smell of FREEDOM!” Rami roared as he thumped Joe on the chest, hard enough to make him groan, then start giggling.

A small wrestling match ensued before I yelled at them to get out before they broke my bed.

“Go tell Gwil the good news,” I begged, making them freeze as Rami’s head poked out from under Joe’s stomach after Joe had pinned him with his entire torso.

They scrambled off the bed, each of them fixing their hair as they hurried out of the room to tell Gwilym the good news.

I sat down on my disheveled bedding and bowed my head, praying to whatever god that would listen for this minor detour to happen without a hitch.

The boys, as high-energy as they could be, had been giving their all at every event and had been working ungodly hours. If I could do this for them, they deserved to enjoy it.

* * * * *

God.

The master of the universe.

The almighty creator.

The powers that be.

The flying spaghetti monster.

It didn’t matter what the higher power I prayed to went by, whoever or whatever it was, hated me.

No.

It loathed me, and I became convinced that it got off on circumventing any possible happiness I could have in my life.

I fought back tears as I followed the boys through the sopping cow field, at least I assumed that’s what it was because it was nearly 2 in the morning and the only lights we had were our dying cellphones (which had no service, of course) and one tiny flashlight that had been jammed between the seat in the back of our too-small rental car.

It certainly smells like a cow field, I thought as my foot landed in something that felt suspiciously more squishy than sopping grass.

We were all damned lucky that we hadn’t had anything other than our pride hurt when a whopping pile of mud from the endless rain slid across the road pushing our car over an embankment and into a field. The car had refused to start, and we waited for over two hours for another vehicle to pass.

It was getting cold, so I finally said, “We can’t wait here all night.”

The boys all looked out the window and into the pouring rain.

“Look at the sign,” Gwil said pointing at something that was on the other side of the immense field. “Looks like a vacancy banner.”

“Like the boss said, we can’t wait here all night. It’s not like a cellphone tower is going to sprout up from all the rain,” Joe said.

“Pop the trunk,” I said, moving to open the door and step out into the rain.

Rami grabbed my arm and spoke in a voice that was heartbreakingly earnest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know,” I said, shaking him off and opening the door.

Luckily, we had all packed light and our bags were easy to carry. Rami tried to take mine and I refused; the last thing I wanted to feel at this moment was like a damsel in distress.

The walk took well over an hour, but it was exactly as Gwil said: a vacancy sign, except that none of us could have predicted that it was a place that made the Bates Motel look like a St. Regis.

We paused despite the pouring rain and looked at each other.

Joe nudged Rami, who faltered, but then took the lead and opened the ratchety front door, a chunk of sopping old paint glopping down on his shoe as he stepped through the doorframe.

We all shuffled in behind him, and it was clear the lobby was not meant for gatherings of people. Gwil and I stood elbow to elbow, a dusty shelf of outdated brochures brushing against my arm.

Rami angled himself forward and rang the rusty bell.

It made a pitiful ding that matched its home.

Rami’s hair was plastered to his head and falling into his eyes. While we waited, he slicked it back and I noticed it was almost long enough to tuck behind his ears when it was wet.

Meanwhile, Joe hadn’t missed the way I watched Rami, even in this dire circumstance. He was one of the many who knew how we felt about each other and he also knew that had been a strong part of the reason for this trip. Rami had confessed to him that he believed if he could get me to forget about the bustle of the tour, even for a day or two, he’d have a shot at figuring out if I was interested in him.

Joe’s insistence that I was just wasn’t enough. Rami wanted to be sure before he made a move, especially if it could mean turning the great dynamic we had established between all of us into something forced and uncomfortable.

“Hit it again,” Gwil said, his normally patient self becoming agitated. He hated to be dirty, and I knew he was thinking about a hot shower.

Hell, I knew we were all thinking about a hot shower.

Rami reached for the bell again, but before he could press it, a very old man shuffled out to the desk, his hoary head not more than a foot taller than the desk itself. He was wrapped up tight in a robe and there were slippers on his feet.

He began speaking in Italian and the dialect was so strong that we all looked at each other in utter confusion.

“English?” Rami asked in a desperate plea.

The old man cocked his head, little wisps of white hair billowing with his movement.

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Gwil muttered, his voice tired.

“Rami—”

He turned around and looked at me.

“The key hooks on the wall.”

Rami nodded, his mouth puckering as he thought.

“We need rooms for the night,” Rami said, pointing to the keys on the wall. “Uh, camera, per favore.”

The man nodded, “Si, si,” and took two keys off the wall.

He began speaking once more, but Rami pointed to the last key hanging on the wall, trying to get another room in case one of the rooms was too small for all three of the boys to share.

“No, no,” the man said waving the two keys from the wall in front of Rami’s face and speaking some more.

It was clear we were getting the last two rooms the man had.

“La moneta!” he barked when Rami held his hand out for the keys, and we all reached into our bags for whatever we had in Italian currency.

The old man gave us a total and Joe counted it out. After the man recounted the money, he handed the keys to Rami and pointed toward the darkest section of the motel.

Again, we all cast a glance at each other, but once we were back outside in the pouring rain, Rami took the lead and walked off toward the dark rooms.

He tried one key, then the other and reached blindly along the wall for a light switch after the door had creaked open. A single lamp flicked on, and we were greeted by the smallest room I had ever seen. There was an ancient television propped up on a stand, one chair, and one bed that looked to be no bigger than an extra-large twin.

Rami glanced at me, then hurried to the next door, shaking the key furiously in the lock to get the door to open.

It was the same room, right down to the extra-large twin bed.

Rami looked at Joe and Gwil and said, “I don’t suppose the three of us could—”

“Oh for pete’s sake, Rami. Come on,” you said tugging his jacket’s sleeve and hauling him back into the other room.

Joe and Gwil exchanged a look, and despite their exhaustion, smiles crept across their faces.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Rami turned around and locked the chain.

With a sigh, he started to apologize again, but I cut him off.

“Rami—no one could have predicted this would happen. I’m sure we will laugh about this . . . if we don’t get axe murdered in the night.”

“Did you ever see that episode of the Twilight Zone where—”

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare plant some freaky image in my mind before we have to try to fall asleep.”

Rami gave me a small smile before he finally dropped his soaked bag on to the floor.

“We may have to wring out all our clothes,” he said frowning with disgust at his wet luggage.

“First, I’m taking the hottest shower in history,” I said, marching into the bathroom, then proceeding to scream as I collided face to chest with a mostly naked Gwilym.

Rami and Joe both burst in from their doors, and then they started laughing.

“Your faces,” Joe squeaked out.

Gwil and I looked at each other and broke, laughing until we cried at the absurdity of the entire situation.

Ever the gentleman, Gwil offered the bath, and yes, it was an old clawfoot bathtub, not a shower, first.

“No—you go for it,” I said patting his shoulder and following a still chuckling Rami out of the door who was swiping at the tears that had leaked down his cheeks during his laughing fit.

I collapsed onto the uncomfortable, putrid yellow chair, a puff of laughter escaping in intermittent bursts as I remembered the feeling of my nose colliding with Gwil’s chest.

“Damnit,” I growled, leaning back in the chair.

“What is it?” Rami asked from the seat he had taken across from me on the edge of the bed.

“My shoe strings are so wet I can’t untie them and my shoes are too tight to kick off.”

“Let me try,” he said, moving to kneel in front of my shoe. “Wow—okay. That’s definitely cowshit.”

Laughter burbled up from my throat again as I stared at Rami’s fingers working my shit-covered laces, and he looked up at me, his nose crinkled, his hair a mess, and I laughed harder until he joined in.

“When you win an Oscar for Freddie, I’m going to remember this moment,” I said, smiling down at him as he freed my right foot.

“Shut up,” Rami said with a smile. “Never gonna happen.”

“Why are you so afraid to let yourself want it?”

“For the same reason you’re so afraid this tour will be a disaster,” Rami finished with a grunt as he freed my left foot and sat back on his butt, getting ready to work his own tennis shoes off.

“What?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rami wiped his fingers on the shins of his soaked pants and looked up.

“You’re not the only one who came from almost nothing, Y/N. We recognize our own kind in this world.”

“But—”

“My parents worked really hard to make sure we had opportunities, but that was about all we had.”

“I didn’t know.”

Rami and I looked at each other, and for the first time I realized what we had in common: an insatiable hunger, a need to prove ourselves.

I know it seems like it only happens in the movies, but as soon as I made that realization, it was like a jolt of electricity went through my body. I had never wanted to kiss someone more than I did in that moment, and just as I was about to drop to the floor and close the distance, Gwil knocked from inside the bathroom.

“Your turn, Y/N!” he called.

I shook my head and stood up, hurrying into the bathroom.

By the time we had all rotated through, Joe going last and informing us with a loud, “Yikes!” that the hot water was all gone, I was exhausted and settled under the minimal covers on the bed.

Rami had been sitting in the yellow chair for the past half an hour, trying to get his cellphone to work.

“We’ll use the phone at the front desk in the morning,” I mumbled sleepily. “Let’s get some rest before the rooster crows. Cuz I guarantee there’s one roaming around out there unless the axe murderer was in the mood for chicken.”

Rami’s laughter was soft as he rose up from the chair and walked over to the light switch.

“Should we leave it on?”

“Try it.”

Rami flicked the switch and the room was plunged into darkness, but after a few moments, it was clear that the light from the vacancy sign was going to shine right through the damn-near sheer curtain covering the window.

“I think we’re okay—you locked the door, right?”

Rami fumbled along the door and double checked.

“Yup.”

I listened as he made his way back to the bed and he shuffled some sort of item of clothing off. When his cold feet accidentally connected with mine, I knew it was his socks.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Can’t stand to sleep with socks on.”

“Me either,” I said to the wall I was facing.

Rami moved around in the bed, attempting to get comfortable and to keep an appropriate distance between our bodies, but when I moved, he gasped as all the covers moved with me.

“Sorry,” I groaned.

“I think this bed is clearly meant for one person.”

“Or two people as tiny as that old man.”

Rami chuckled, and then he sighed.

“There’s a solution . . . if you’re okay with it.”

“Lay it on me, Ram.”

Rami said nothing, but he rolled onto his side and pressed his body into my back. He adjusted his arms, eventually resting his left hand in the dip at my waist.

“At least I’m getting warmer now,” I said sleepily.

Rami took that as an invitation and snuggled in deeper, sliding his arm all the way over my waist so he could spoon me.

“I really am sorry for all of this,” Rami whispered into the back of my neck.

“I’m not,” I said, reaching for his hand and pulling it up between my breasts so I could clutch it to my chest.

Rami hummed contentedly, and we both drifted off to sleep.

#Rami Malek #Rami Malek x Reader #guest starring #Joe Mazzello #gwilym lee #fluff #bed sharing #bed sharing prompt #BoRhap fic #BoRhap

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omoi-no-hoka · 4 years

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Rural Life and Mental Health in Japan as a Gaijin

Heads up: This is a very long, personal post about mental health and the stresses of living in rural Japan as a foreigner. If it’s not what you’re looking for in this blog, please feel free not to read it. If you can’t tell by the gif above, this isn’t going to be a very positive post because I’m not in a very positive mood.

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It’s been just shy of five and a half years since I moved to Hokkaido, the northernmost island/prefecture in Japan. In many ways, it’s similar to the American Midwest, which is the region I’m originally from. It’s big on agriculture, it’s got lots of nature and rural areas, winters are long and nasty, and the people have a warmth that make up for the cold snow and ice outside. Heck, even a lot of the flora and fauna are the same.

I think of my current city as my “Japanese hometown” because it was where I stayed during my first trip to Japan and it’s where my hostparents from that time are. I love it here like I love my country bumpkin village of 2,800 back in the states.

But after a little over two years of living and working in this city, I think I need out. I am...tired of it in many ways.

特別扱い Tokubetsu Atsukai, “Special Treatment”

Prior to living in this city, I lived in Sapporo, which has a population of 2 million. There, no one batted an eye at a foreigner walking the streets. A lot of them were surprised that i could use Japanese, but a good few people were used to gaijin that could use nihongo and read kanji.

But in my current city, I have experienced all of the following things, some of which on a daily basis.

DISCLAIMER: I have also had a LOT of very positive experiences with the people of this city. Most of my experiences have been positive or neutral, but a good 40% have been as described below.

Everywhere I go, I am openly stared at. Gawked at, at times. (I am your standard-looking, standard-dressed, slightly overweight white girl. No visible tattoos, piercings, vibrant hair color, or otherwise attention-grabbing aspects about me other than the fact that i am clearly not Japanese.)

I am often spoken to like I am mentally disabled, or if I am with a Japanese person, they will refuse to speak to me and instead speak to my Japanese companion.

I have entered restaurants on my own and had waitstaff make a big “X” with their arms and say “No English” immediately upon seeing my non-Japanese face.

I have had waiting taxi drivers drive off instead of allow a troublesome foreigner into their car.

I have sat down alone at a bar and had the Japanese people beside me openly gossip about me with the assumption that I could not understand them.

When searching for apartments when I moved to this city, I was denied 75% of my picks because they have a “no gaijin” rule. Despite the fact that I can speak and read, that I have a good job and valid visa, and that I have already lived here 3 years without a single late rent payment or complaint against me.

I have built up casual relationships with employees at grocery stores, etc. I frequent, and they have asked me for my contact info because, in their own words, “I’ve always wanted a gaijin for a friend!” In Japan, every girl wants a token gaijin friend instead of a token gay friend.

I have gone on dates with Japanese men who clearly just wanted a white girl to hang on their arm like a piece of swag and insist on taking me to a pasta place because “You must prefer western food to Japanese food” or insisting that I dye my hair blonder to look more foreign.

I am just...so very tired of this 特別扱い (special treatment).

I don’t want to call it 差別 (prejudice) because, the majority of the time, Japanese people think they are doing me a kindness by speaking slowly and simply, or by telling me as soon as possible that they cannot help me in English, etc. While a couple of the above experiences are straight up racism (I’m looking at you, asshole taxi drivers and landlords), most of them are a misguided form of “omotenashi,” a.k.a. Japanese hospitality.

So I try very hard not to let it get to me, because I know that they don’t wish ill upon me. But I’ve worked so goddamn hard to learn this language and speak it well, and it is so frustrating for the people around me to assume that I can’t do what has been my freaking life goal. Or having people assume I can’t understand slightly difficult words and dumb down their language (Even colleagues I’ve worked with for two years now!). In the middle of a conversation they’ll say things like, “It’s hard to deal with that level of animosity--oh wait, omoi-no-hoka-san, sorry, ‘animosity’ means ‘dislike.’”

They mean it in a helpful way, but it just comes across as very condescending and I end up thinking, Oh, so they think my Japanese proficiency is so low i can’t understand that word. Which sends me into doubt over whether my language skills are actually that deficient, or whether I am speaking in a way that makes myself look at bad at Japanese.

The Effects of 特別扱い (Special Treatment)

It’s been gradual, but over the past two years, I have found myself withdrawing from the outside world. I got bad at replying to friend’s messages. I started making excuses to avoid meeting up and hanging out. I would buy all the groceries i needed to last me through the weekend on Friday after work and not emerge until Monday morning to go back to work. Even though I really love the outdoors and used to spend entire days just riding my bike along the river trails here.

...But in the past few months I’ve become unable to answer even close friends’ phone calls and messages. And I’ve even had a hard time phoning my parents, which is crazy because ever since I left home for uni I’ve called my mom on a daily basis. When I think about stepping outside of my apartment, no matter the reason or destination, I am gripped by a dread so strong I nearly throw up. I have gone a couple weekends without food because it would require me leaving my apartment to buy some, or paying for very expensive delivery which also means interacting with whoever is bringing me that food.

I’ve had a stressful summer and fall at work, and that undoubtedly has contributed to my current anxiety overload. But things have settled down at work for the past month now, and not only have I been given an award that only 2% of employees get globally, recently I have been in talks to take on what is very nearly a dream position for me within the company that is a BIG step up career-wise. I have great bosses who recognize my efforts, who listen to what I have to say, and do what they can to help when I tell them I’m in over my head.

But I have had several days where I have woken up, gotten ready for work, and just frozen at my apartment door, too sick at the thought of going outside. And yet, I can’t stand the thought of calling in sick because I feel chronic, self-imposed guilt when I take a day off, no matter the reason. So I call in to work and tell them I have a stomachache and will be in once it’s gone, (which isn’t an absolute lie), and then drag myself into work within a couple hours.

And once I enter the office, do the obligatory bow and apology for being late and causing inconveniences, the dread and anxiety vanish and I am fine until it is time for me to go outside to return home.

This makes me think that work is not a main stressor right now. It doesn’t matter if I’m going to the convenience store or the grocery store or work or anywhere. I think the constant being stared at everywhere I go has gradually accumulated to become a nasty form of social anxiety. I used to have panic attacks in middle school and high school due to home life, but since removing myself from that environment they’ve gone away. I’ve always been a socially-reserved person who shies away from the spotlight, and despite telling myself a thousand times, “Let them look at you--you’re just being you and they’re being them and that’s OKAY,” I just can’t brush it off. I have very, very seriously considered dyeing my hair from its natural brown to black in an effort to blend in, if only slightly. Which is laughable, but that’s just how much it bothers me to stand out.

But the event that really sounded the alarm for me was when my best friend of 10 years, a Japanese girl whom I met by chance my freshman year of uni, who was my roommate for 4 years of uni, who let me sleep on her living room floor here in Japan for 3 months until my work visa came through, who has been with me through thick and thin, sent me a message asking when she could drop off a souvenir for me and

I couldn’t bring myself to reply to her text.

That was when I very clearly knew that I was too deep in this funk to get myself out on my own, and I had to figure out how to get help.

Frankly, despite having struggled with panic attacks and anxiety in the past, I have never sought professional help. Until now, I never felt that my symptoms were so bad that they warranted medication. But the fact that i can’t contact my mother or my best friend, that I would rather not eat anything for two days instead of go outside, means that snorting essential oils and rubbing rose quartz against my temples or whatever isn’t going to be enough.

Mental Health Views in Japan

It’s not exactly a secret that the approach to mental health in Japan is “sweep it under the rug.” You do not talk about it. You may go to a doctor and receive medication, but you do not get counseling, because that involves talking about it. You do not tell your friends. You do not tell your family. You DEFINITELY do not tell your coworkers.

I saw my boss, T, fall into a very similar spiral to my own this summer. Stomach aches in the morning, coming in late, making excuses to get out of outings outside of work, not replying to messages, not sleeping well. And then one day he just vanished. Didn’t show up one Monday.

T wouldn’t respond to our messages so we had to contact his mother to get a hold of him. And once she had confirmed that she had spoken to him and scolded him for being “selfish” by skipping work, my coworkers were satisfied because, in their words, “Now that we know he’s still alive, we don’t have to worry.”

Honestly, that was one of the most fucked up reactions to any situation I have ever seen. I was shocked, because these coworkers truly cared for him, but their mutual reaction to this was to just...let him languish.

T announced to a select number of supervisors/colleagues that he had been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder and would be stepping down from his position. He said that he had been diagnosed years ago, but had not disclosed it because he knew that he would never be promoted if anyone knew.

And that’s one of the big reasons that no one wants to talk about their mental illness here. In Japan, having a mental illness is a shameful thing. It shows that you’re weak, that you can’t keep up with everyone else, that you are flawed in a way that will adversely affect those around you at one point or another.

But my company really is a great company and the people in charge are progressive. T has a lot of great skills and experience, and they didn’t want to let him go. So they told him that they would find someone to fill his current role, but once he had rested and gotten better, they wanted him to come back and do a position that he used to do, one that he really shined in and enjoyed. And that is where he’s at now, and he’s doing much better for it.

So, having seen all of this unfold mere months ago, I grappled with how much I should tell my employers. The talk of this new and big position in Tokyo was underway, yet I knew that I wouldn’t be able to handle it unless I got better.

So I bit the bullet, and on the night that I couldn’t respond to my best friend’s text, I sent my boss a message, explaining my symptoms, how long they’d been going on, what I thought the causes were, and that I wanted to take the morning off to see a doctor about it sometime that week.

And I was really shocked by his reply.

This boss is the guy that filled T’s position, and i didn’t know him that well yet. As it turns out, he used to be a counselor before he joined this company. He told me that I could go to the doctor whenever I wanted, but that he also wanted to talk in person about this the next day.

The next day he called me into the conference room with one other manager, a guy I really trust and like. When T vanished, shit really hit the fan at the office and it was basically this manager and me keeping us afloat for the first couple weeks, so we’ve got a lot of camaraderie going. They asked me to talk more about what was going on, why I was feeling all this anxiety, etc.

And it was during this conversation that I saw the division between the traditional Japanese views of mental health and modern views of mental health.

When I explained to them both why I wanted to see a doctor and try medication, their reactions were mixed. My boss, the former counselor, said that if I thought it was best, trying out medication for a few weeks was a good idea.

The manager looked doubtful and said, “But do you really think that going to a doctor and getting pills from him will fix everything? If you’re diagnosed, what will your colleagues think? I thought you wanted that promotion.”

In that moment i felt intense fear and regret, as well as hurt. T had said that he had withheld his diagnosis for this very reason. A part of me had wanted to think it was paranoia on his part, but now I realized that he had been right to keep it a secret. This manager, whom I knew very well and trusted deeply, clearly was of the opinion that a diagnosis/medication = evidence of weakness.

So I ended up lying and telling them, “I’ll go to the doctor just to get some sleeping pills.” (I’ve been waking up every hour on the hour for a couple months now.) Sleeping pills aren’t frowned upon in Japan and the manager was pleased with this decision.

And after that manager left, I told my boss the truth, that i would be getting anti-anxiety meds as well because I really thought it was necessary, and that I would appreciate him not disclosing it unless he was required to, which he agreed to.

Seeing a Psychiatrist in Japan

So now i had to find a psychiatrist and make an appointment. A Google search provided me horrors. Below is an excerpt of a Google review of a certain mental health clinic in my city, and the record of the exchange between the doctor and reviewer (patient). I’m not going to translate it all because it’s long, but these are some highlights of the doctor’s words directly to the patient.

“You can’t sleep? I can’t sleep either. What, do you want some pills for it?”

“You can’t expect me to believe what a patient says.”

(After he made the patient cry) “You are being so difficult. Could you stop crying?”

He gives her medication, has silent nurses send her out to the waiting room where she continues to cry, and the doctor comes to the waiting room and says, “Could you hurry up and pay and leave?”

Having read this, I was filled with absolute fear. Maybe I was better off trying to fix this on my own after all.

But I kept searching, and I also learned that my city hall has a 心の相談窓口 (Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi), “Mind Consultation.” You can call them to learn information about what sorts of mental health facilities/options are available in your area. A very kind lady there informed me that it takes about 2-3 months to get in to any psychiatrist in this city, most of them do not take new patients, and that counseling is almost non-existent. Unless I was a harm to myself or others, I would have to wait. However, there was one general hospital in the city that had one psychiatrist staffed. This hospital has no reservation system whatsoever (very common in Japan) and takes a set number of patients in the morning and evening. I could try my luck to get in and see her.

So that was what i did, and I was able to see her on the first morning I went! I think the Kokoro no Soudan Madoguchi lady made it sound harder to get into so I wouldn’t feel let down if it didn’t work out the first time I went.

Having read the horror story above, I had a lot of trepidation stepping into the exam room with her and two nurse secretaries. I had expected it to be a very clinical, dry exchange of symptoms and a sufficient prescription with a token お大事に。

And, more than anything, I had feared that she would say something like, “Maybe you should just go home to your own country where you wouldn’t stand out.”

But she asked me a wide range of questions, with none of them focusing on the fact that I was a gaijin: what my symptoms were, how long they’d been going on, what I had going on in my life, what work was like, past history of anxiety, etc., and she and the nurses all truly listened to what i had to say. It was clear that she cared about the underlying causes and me as a person.

She told me that it sounded like I was experiencing a buildup of stress and anxiety and that she wanted me to try a low dose of anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills for a week and then come back for another discussion.

That was 3 weeks ago. I’ve since been in the process of working with her to find the right combination of medication. Fun fact: they prescribe you Rohypnol (roofies) for sleeping meds in Japan if they deem your insomnia is serious enough. So. That is interesting.

Where I Am Now

I am keeping my boss informed of my condition and he is still very supportive. He seems to have informed his bosses of my tribulations to some extent, because they have gone out of their way to check in on me and see how I’m doing, which is very kind of them. Of course, they also know that i went above and beyond the call of duty for several months in a row until recently, and they could simply be asking because of that. Either way, I am touched that they would think of me, as I am a lowly translator for a lesser project and they are quite a ways up on the corporate ladder.

I am still in talks about taking on a very exciting position in Tokyo HQ, despite one of those bosses likely being aware of my situation to some extent. I used to dread the thought of Tokyo because I am a country girl who needs to see green, but recently I’ve come to the tough decision that I need to leave my beloved Japanese hometown, just like i left my American one. I love them, but I do not belong in them. I have visited the Tokyo HQ quite a few times, and there are a ton of foreigners in the area so I don’t stand out at all. I think that as long as I can live reasonably close enough to a park, I can satisfy my needs for nature while lessening my social anxiety.

I am having good days and bad days where it is still hard for me to leave the house. But I am having more good days than bad now. And today I was finally able to send a text message back to my best friend. Which really doesn’t seem like a lot, but it is a lot to me. My friend is supportive and understanding, which means the world to me.

I’m getting back to being me. 💗

p.s.: The gif at the top of this is from the anime Mushishi, which I think illustrates various mental illnesses and their effects in a very metaphoric way.

#personal #mental health #stress #anxiety #social anxiety #expatlife #japan #life in japan #rural japan #mental health awareness #expat in japan #mental health recovery #mental health support in japan #love yourself #you can overcome this

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