#vintage day 2

[inviisiiblelee]

Vintage

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Word Count: 2,224 Rating: Teen and Up Audience Relationship: Alastor/Vox Additional Tags:

Mentioned Valentino (Hazbin Hotel), Mentioned Velvet (Hazbin Hotel), Vox is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), One-Sided Attraction, Unrequited Love, Lost Love, Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Fluff, porting from AO3, link included above if prefered.

Notes: An entry for Tumblr RadioStatic Week Day 2: Vintage. I'm late by a week, but I will be writing for each prompt anyway. This definitely falls much more under the unrequited vibes. Vox is obsessive.

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Glowing red eyes focused on the blueprints on the table. Vox’s hands were deft, gentle with the small pieces he was fitting together in front of him. The blueprints were as detailed as he could think to make them, but he rarely worked with wood products anymore. It had been years, maybe even decades since he had touched the material, especially a rosewood as beautiful as this. He usually worked with metals, able to use his power to work holes of good sizes and engrave himself. But he also hadn’t worked anything by hand in years just as well. The factories produced everything now, and while he often made prototypes of certain products, he still didn’t usually work the material himself anymore. He would put it together and handle the tech parts and the programming. 

But this was a simple wooden build, with only a few moving parts for a reason. Of course, those parts were metal, shiny and well polished brass. Recreating and making things a little more efficient was something he was good at, even if he didn’t do it often. He could cut out a few in between parts in favor of newer, modern pieces, while still maintaining the original effects. He had hired someone especially to make sure the music piece would play properly, and he was able to make those pieces himself with clear instruction. His fingertips could get hot and were easily sharpened, and he was more than familiar with ensuring holes in metal were an appropriate size. Plus, he had several sheets of brass ready in case he did need a few trial runs.

His work bench was covered in wood shavings and dust, the smell of burning fibers. But a few screws, several hours, an infuriating amount of time spent bent over into the light, engraving into the wood with red-hot fingertips and listening to the same little tune over and over again until it was perfectly placed. Vox stepped back to look at the completed box, closed and fully varnished and dried, something he’d done to the pieces days before assembly. The outside looked about the way it should have at the time of the original designs, in the late 1890's or so, clean corners and raised layers. A shiny little keyhole for a simple lock and key to turn and open it. The top lifted up, Vox had taken time to engrave the image of a deer on the inside in the unvarnished wood, grazing on some grass between trees. The inner parts of the box were otherwise everything they needed to be, the disk of brass meant to spin and pluck along a musical comb underneath. It looked perfect, and it put a smile on Vox’s screen, before it fell slightly. He tipped the box over, and there was the false bottom.

With the hollowed space opened up, he picked up a small sheet of paper that he folded into fourths before tucking it in and placing the bottom over it. A screw in each corner and it was hidden away. It was … unlikely to ever be found. But that was fine. 

Another quick set of checks before Vox gathered the music box, tucked it away in a bag, and left his little workshop area. He didn’t use the room often, it branched off of his office, something he’d built into the VoxTech building but hadn’t used almost at all since the early 2000’s. Sometimes he would build a thing or two, but that was typically at his desk, not in there. It was fairly late in the night, nothing unusual for him to be up at, but a time he knew the majority of the building would be shut off, Valentino and Velvette probably having already retired to bed. So it was very easy to make his way out of the tall towering office without any incident. He walked with purpose, entered one of his smaller vehicles that would garner almost no attention, and made his way to the inner city. 

Vox parked a few blocks from the destination, intending to walk the rest of the way. He didn’t have a clear idea of why he was really doing this. He didn’t … have a good reason. This was silly, a ridiculously sentimental impulse to have indulged for the last week. He supposed he thought he would give it up halfway through, and even now, he thought maybe he would make it to the front door, and then he would abandon ship. He could still go back. Destroy the thing, or repurpose it. 

But no, he was walking his way right up to that stupid Hazbin Hotel, and stood at the double doors for a little while. It was two in the morning, and it was unlikely anyone was in the lobby. He didn’t want to risk leaving the thing out on the steps, it would be far more likely to be destroyed before ever even being spotted. Or stolen. He pressed one hand on one door and pushed, feeling it give and open with slight pressure. It was quiet and quick, and he peeked inside. The worst that could happen was … well. A confrontation, he supposed.

But he was lucky. The lights were low, only a few around the bar left on to illuminate the area, which appeared to be empty. No patrons, no staff, and that was perfect.

A few steps in, closing the door behind him. The remodel had clearly gone smoothly, and it was definitely for the better, given what glimpses of the interior he had gotten before. It helped that Lucifer had led the efforts seamlessly, it took them all less than a day to construct. Lucky bastards. But as he idled in the lobby, he noticed a television set around the sitting area on the other side. Perfect.

A quick approach over to the tech, and Vox dug the box out of his bag. He placed a single note card on top, bearing the name to whom the gift was for.

Alastor.

Single spaced, typed out, using the basic Arial font. He didn’t want to be connected to this. The back of the card bore a simple set of lines. Enjoy. Hand-made for your listening pleasure. He didn’t think hand-writing the note would be a good idea. Signed or not, he was sure Alastor would remember what his penmanship looked like, given it had hardly changed in over fifty years. So typed it was. A soft sigh left him as he stepped back, looking at the gift left on the television for a long moment before turning and making his way out.

“Alastor! There’s something down here for you!” Charlie called out excitedly from the lobby. Alastor was not really in the vicinity to hear, but he did quickly appear at her call, as he always did, emerging easily from the shadows, smile wide. 

“Oh? What do you have for me?” he asked smoothly, glancing down at the wooden box that she was holding. He read the card bearing his name, and his brows furrowed slightly. If it were a gift from Charlie, why would she bother with a card as such?

“It’s not from me, and no one else is owning up to it either,” she said, also looking a little confused. “It was just sitting in the lobby when Husk came to open up, and he gave it to me when I came down.”

“Well, let’s take a look together, shall we?” Alastor said simply, placing his microphone in the crook of one arm and taking the box in his hands. It didn’t seem to be anything inherently dangerous.

“I did open it,” Vaggie admitted as she approached out of curiosity. “It doesn’t look like anything too weird, or like any sort of weapon.”

“Vaggie! It’s just a gift!”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, Charlie. Vaggie has the right idea, triple-checking things.” Meanwhile, he turned the card around and read the few lines typed out on the back. For his listening pleasure? Hand-made? Odd.

The key taped to the card – or rather, re-taped by Vaggie – was clearly needed to open it, so he pulled it off and opened the box, peering at the inside. The scene of a grazing deer, engraved by some sort of heat into the wood, greeted him first, and he found himself blinking in some surprise. There was no signature, no name anywhere inside, and he wondered if the hand-made comment was simply a lie. But there was a certain amount of humanity in the lines, flaws here and there that convinced him more that it wasn’t the case. It was clearly a music box. There was a crank left on the music disk, and he inserted it into the hole it was clearly meant to fit into. Setting the box down, he went ahead and turned it to allow the box to begin making its music.

The song began to play, and Alastor felt something shift in his heart. It was a song he recognized, a song that he was most familiar with in the 70’s, and his mind was left trying to figure out who would make such a thing, or send such a thing. His smile wobbled, but he forcefully kept it up, as a single name arrived as a possibility that he quickly shook away. There would be no reason he would do any such thing, surely. Charlie and Vaggie both appeared entranced by the music, and Alastor seemed stuck in place, so the song played in full and eventually stopped to leave them in silence. Alastor stepped forward and snapped the box shut, tucking it under his arm.

“That’s such a nice gift, do you know who- oh. Where did he go?” Charlie spoke to Vaggie, realizing Alastor had disappeared amongst the shadows again.

The Radio Demon was back in his room, and the box was back in his hands, opened and being examined. He was searching it for just about any semblance of information on who had sent the pesky little thing. He shook it a little in his hands in frustration when he found nothing at all. But he heard something seem to slide against the wood inside of it. 

He paused. Was it just a mechanism piece? Another shake gave the same noise, but it didn’t sound like anything that should have been in there.

He sat down with it, examining the well-crafted item, noting the screws on the bottom of the box after a closer look. He produced a small screwdriver and worked the metal out of their holes, finding the hollow spot where the folded paper resided. 

“Ah-ha!” 

A triumphant little noise and he withdrew the folded note, placed the music box gently down on his desk, and read it. 

Alastor.

Today marks it being officially eighty years since the day you saved me from Hell, in every literal and figurative sense. Technically, a total of a hundred years since meeting you for the first time. Things are weird and different now, and I wish that wasn't the case, but hopefully you have fond memories about this song, that maybe it can remind you of what we used to be. Who I … used to be. And maybe it'll bring you a little happiness, too.

With love, Vox.

Oh. 

So it was Vox's doing as he first thought. Somehow, it was almost relieving. That no one else seemed to be aware of that part of him, or that it ever existed. There were really few who remembered that once they used to be close, but … truly Alastor had thought that Vox was one of those people. There was a mix of feelings boiling in his chest, he felt like, and he couldn't begin to sort out what was more prominent. Anger? Rage? Something … softer? Sentimentality? Regret? 

His fingers pulled the box back into his lap, flipping it back over. He cranked the handle and let the song play again, his expression softening. He thought he'd buried most of this decades ago. He thought Vox had buried this all decades ago. Alastor was more than aware of the date, though he had no intention of being so actionable on it. It meant Vox came during the night, and Alastor hadn't noticed. For once, he had been able to sleep, and it appeared it had been conveniently during the time he had arrived. Stepped right into his domain to drop off a ridiculous gift that he made plenty of effort to be unattached to. 

He could remember the many times they'd danced to this song. It was an original piece by someone more local, Vox had been enamored by it, and Alastor had agreed that it was very good. Vox bought the record without question and when they lived together, back in the 70’s, they would often play it. 

Alastor shook his head, trying to dispel the memories. It hadn't been like that for so long. Vox moved out a couple decades later, abandoned him for work and profit and frivolity. Lost himself to the corporate world somehow, though it was frankly surprising he'd managed to go so long with any individuality in the first place. 

But he couldn't seem to harshen the smile on his face as the song played. 

Thank you, old friend.

[iyunjin]

∿ ꙕ ° 🐚

∿ 📻 ° ⩇⩇

[satans-knitwear]

Pwetty new glasses!!! I shall use them for evil purposes (seeing things.)

Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me

[normajeanebaker]

“My heavens! A diamond!”  Beauty and the Beast // La belle et la bête (1946) dir. Jean Cocteau

[godhelpmeimdescendingintomadness]

[medicalunprofessional]

play dentist

[semioticapocalypse]

Frank J. Scherschel. D-Day. Normandy. May, 1944-1

I Am Collective Memories   •    Follow me, — says Visual Ratatosk

[kmesons]

@femslashfortnight day 2 : retro (hollowebby)

[eroticlamb]

Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue during an Ozzy Osbourne in Concert in Madison Square Garden, New York City, January 30, 1984 ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ˖ ࣪ Photographed by Ron Galella

THIS LOOK WAS SO CUNTY

[beepboopappreciation]

Shout-out to super boxy harsh-edged computers. Love the 90° angles. Absolutely cheering about the corners. No smooth curves, all square, baby. So much rectangular rizz in them thangs.

[fashionsfromhistory]

Dress made for a VE Day Party

May 1945

It comprises a pink cotton blouse, black velvet bolero (dated to the 1930s) and skirt made from black-out fabric with strips of matching pink cotton sewn on top to create stripes

Fashion Museum Bath via Twitter

[gameraboy2]

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

[sarahsmi13s]

Off the Clock

whumptober day 2: overworked / insomnia / exhaustion

pairing: charlie young x reader

characters: charlie young, fem!reader, rick otis, harper (mentioned)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, overworked, exhaustion, insomnia, getting hit by a car, blood, hospital, fighting, more from the caretakers pov rather than whumpee's, please let me know if i missed any

word count: ~3.4k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

also also, i do want to apologize for getting this up late got distracted while writing it so i finished it later than i had hoped

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: charlie's job is sucking the life out of him - working off the clock to get recognized by a boss that doesn't care. what will it take for him to realize the lost sleep isn't worth the loss of himself?

Charlie Young was always a hard worker; he had been since you met him. He wanted to climb that ladder and get those promotions. Get to a position where he doesn’t need to be kissing ass and can make his own damn schedule.

That’s what he wants.

But you? 

You just want him at home.

Yes, you supported him. You loved that he was so hard working. You just hated that he was working himself into the ground. Rick had him in the office before sunrise and way after sunset. You could see the toll it was taking on your boyfriend… and your relationship.

You sighed as you put away the leftovers in the fridge. Charlie had missed dinner, again. 

He had called you and told you that Rick wanted him to go back to the office with him after the District Club. You understood, of course, and told him you would put leftovers from dinner in the fridge for him – right before you heard Rick yelling at him to hurry up. Charlie hung up with a quick ‘I love you’ before the line went dead and you were left with dinner for two and a movie.

So, you picked at your pasta and had the movie on for background noise. Tonight was supposed to be a makeup dinner for the dinner you missed because you got called in to take over a shift last minute, you and Charlie were looking forward to it. Damn-it Rick.

You knew that he couldn’t help it when Rick changed plans on him last minute. And you were honestly less worried about the missed dinner and more worried about the missed sleep.

Charlie had started this cycle of coming home from working all day and then continuing to work from the couch. He spent his weekends, his time off, on things for work. Yeah, you went on dates but he wasn’t having fun. He was exhausted and worrying about getting behind on doing things for his shitty boss.

You were as understanding as you could be, because you knew he was just trying to make a good life, but you were starting to feel like you were enabling him. That your understanding and nonchalance was telling him that that was what you wanted. It wasn’t, you just wanted him.

Maybe tonight would be the night you finally told him that…

Charlie held the bouquet to his chest as he skipped the stairs trying to get to your shared apartment as quickly as possible. He felt awful for missing dinner, but he couldn’t leave the office until Rick did and if he wanted that promotion, he had to show Rick he was dedicated enough for it. 

Fumbling a little when he got to the door, he unlocked it and went in quietly so he wouldn't wake you if you had fallen asleep. 

But you hadn’t.

You were on the couch, curled up in one of his shirts and tucked in the corner reading a book – waiting for him.

His stomach sank. You were mad, you had to be. This was it, you had finally had enough of it. Despite you being the most understanding partner he’s ever had, he knows everyone’s got a breaking point. And this missed dinner had to be yours.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted, your voice soft and a little raspy with tiredness. 

Charlie blinked for a second, confused at your lack of frustration as you got up and walked over to him with a sleepy smile. 

You put your hands on his waist, “Are you hungry?” He nodded and held the newspaper wrapped bouquet out to you, “I’m sorry. I know it-” You held your hand up and took the flowers, “Thank you for the flowers, Charlie. But you don’t have to apologize for your boss. Now, answer my question, are you hungry?”

“Yes, starving,” he said before kissing your forehead. “You said it’s in the fridge?” You nodded before turning to get a vase, “Should be the middle shelf.” He nodded and opened the fridge, finding the tupperware in the spot you said it would be.

“Thank you, for dinner and for staying up for me…”

You smiled as you cut the stems and put them in the water, “Honey, I want to make sure you get home safe. New York is fucking crazy, so no matter how late, I’m gonna do my damnedest to stay up until you get home.”

Charlie smiled at you and kissed your head before he put the pasta in the microwave.

You wrapped your arms around his waist as he waited, “I’m so ready for cuddles now that you’re home.”

He tensed in your arms and sighed, “I won’t be coming to bed for a bit, Honey.” You frowned and looked up at him, “You’re not?” He shook his head, pulling away from the hug as the microwave beeped.

“I have things I need to finish for Rick, it shouldn’t take too long and then I’ll go to bed.”

“Charlie, you just got home, you need to sleep.”

He sighed and sat at the table, “I need to get this done for Rick before Monday. I swear, there’s not much left but I also want to get a jumpstart and things for-”

“You are off the clock, Charlie. You are not in the office right now. If you don’t have much left you can finish it in the morning or on Sunday. But you need to go to bed after eating.”

You weren’t angry per say, more frustrated than angry. Frustrated with Charlie, Rick, yourself — that you weren’t certain of. But you just needed to right this wrong and break this vicious cycle Charlie has put himself in.

He looked up at you, the harsh lighting accentuating the eye bags under his dulling green eyes. “You don’t get it, Y/N.”

“What don’t I get, Charlie?” 

“That I’m doing this so I can stop doing it.”

You furrowed your brow, confused as you leaned on the chair. “That’s makes zero fucking sense.”

“Because you’re not hearing me, babe. I’m doing all these things for Rick. The extra work, the getting ahead of schedule, all of it to prove to Rick that I deserve a promotion! Once I become an analyst, I’ll have more time. But right now is not that time!”

Rubbing your face you looked at him. “You’re exhausted Charlie. You need to take a break to rest. How can you be at your best if you’re tired?”

He shrugged and shoved a forkful of pasta in his mouth. “Rick doesn’t take breaks. Do you think he got to where he is by taking breaks? No, so I can’t either.”

You suppressed your groan but it was getting really hard to control your emotions. “Charlie, please, come to bed after eating. Just so I know you’ve had decent sleep.”

Groaning, he looked up at you, “I’m not even tired, I’m perfectly fine.” You shook your head and gripped the chair, “No, no you’re not Char-” “Y/N, I can handle it! I’m fine, I just will finish that one thing and then I’ll go to bed, okay?”

You huffed, pushing off the chair before going to your shared bedroom.

Charlie sighed, finishing his dinner before getting his laptop out and starting on the work he needed to finish. He made you upset, but he needed to get this work done. You’d understand, right?

He got to work and after a few minutes he looked up to see you leave the bedroom with a pillow, his pillow to be exact. 

“Honey, what are you doing?” He asked, confused as you quietly set yourself up on the couch. 

You laid down and snuggled up with the blanket, “If you won’t join me in the bedroom, then I’ll join you in the living room.” You looked over at him, “I just want to be close to you Charlie. I’ll stay out of your hair, just wake me up when you’re done.”

He nodded and sent you a small smile, “I will.”

Well, long story short, you woke up on the couch and found Charlie asleep at the table still in his clothes from work. You wish you could say you were surprised, but you weren’t. It was a frequent occurrence.

And, while normally you would wake him up, you decided this time you could let him sleep. And you had to come up with a plan to get him to break this routine.

Charlie was not happy when he found out that you let him sleep, but you let him be mad because all you were doing was trying to help. And it was clear that you needed to do more when Harper called you later that week and told you that Charlie needed you.

So that’s why you were riding the elevator to the floor Rick’s office was on, picking at your hands as you waited for it to stop.

When it did you were running out of it and to Charlie’s desk.

“Charlie! Charlie! Char- woah… what the hell happened…”

Charlie was fast asleep at his desk, most of the lights off with lemons scattered around him. The green poster board, that looks like a kids science project, is torn and the displays were broken. You looked closer and could make out the name “Otis” on the board. 

Seriously.

Charlie did Rick’s son’s science project? Fucking seriously?

You clenched your jaw and your fists as you took a deep breath before waking Charlie up.

“Charlie, baby, wake up,” you gently shook his shoulder, causing him to jerk away from your touch. “It’s just me baby, it’s just me.” You stroked his hair gently, “Charlie…”

He groans a little and looks at the mess around him, “Fuck… there’s no way I’m gonna fix this in time…” 

You sighed and sat on his desk, “You shouldn’t have been doing it in the first place. That is Rick’s job to help his son with his project. Not have you do it for him, he’s not gonna learn that way.”

“Y/N, I-”

“No, Charlie, this,” you gestured to the ruined project. “This is not your job. This shit has nothing to with your fucking job. You’re Rick’s assistant, not his damn slave.”

Charlie sat up a little, the bags under his eyes even darker than they were Friday night. “How else am I gonna get promoted, Y/N? I’ve been doing this shit for three years-”

“Exactly!”

Charlie stood up, leaning on his chair a little for support, “I have to put in the work, if I don’t then I’m stuck here for three more years. I’m trying to get this promotion for us! For you!”

“I never asked you to do this Charlie!”

“Then why have you been so fucking supportive!”

You held up a finger and put some distance between you and Charlie. “I have supported you because I am your girlfriend. I can see now that it was a mistake. Because you are not happy here Charlie!” 

He scoffed before stumbling over his words, “I-I’m happy, how-how-how do you know that-that I’m not?”

You crossed your arms and arched a brow, “You’re fucking exhausted, Charlie. You wouldn’t be this tired and burnt out if you were happy. With all the shit you do for Rick, you should already be promoted, to another job you don’t want to actually do, might I add. But look at where you are! You’re stuck here, an exhausted assistant trying to run a mile for someone who doesn’t give you an inch!” 

Charlie stayed quiet, his blinking slow as you ranted.

“This job is going to kill you, Charlie. You need to quit, I don’t care if you’re some high ranking analyst or what the fuck ever. I just want you.”

You sighed and walked closer to him, cupping his face as his dull green eyes looked at you. “Please Charlie…”

All he can manage is a nod in your loving hands and you give him a soft smile before gathering his things and taking him home.

Half way through the night, Charlie woke up.

He was stressed about the project, he needed to get it done or he was going to lose his job. 

So, since he was unable to fall back asleep with it on his mind, he got out of bed and found a quick one online, spending the rest of the night finishing it.

Why he was still so hung up on this, he wasn’t sure.

You yelled at him in the office and he had heard you, well he heard words – comprehension may not have done its job because over the next few weeks he was still spending his nights on his laptop working. He would get in bed with you and try to sleep but his mind was always running on a hamster wheel. So after you were out cold, he would get on his laptop and work right there in bed.

You’d be furious, but you didn’t have to know.

And this really wasn’t gonna kill him, was it?

You hummed and checked your phone as you waited in the Mexican restaurant for Charlie. He had suggested going out for lunch the previous night since Rick was going somewhere without him for lunch.

It’d been a few weeks since you blew up at him, trying to get him to leave the job that was stealing him from you. Stealing him from himself.

But Charlie still hadn’t quit, and he thought you didn’t know about the late nights he was still having, but you did and you knew you needed to tell him before it got worse. But you supposed that he needed to be at full capacity to understand why you were so worried about him.

You sighed and looked out the window for your boyfriend when your phone went off with a text from him. 

“Just around the corner, be there soon!😘”

You smiled and decided to go wait outside on the little patio for him.

As you sat down, you looked up to see Charlie approaching the crosswalk and you called out and waved to him.

He looked up and you could see the exhaustion behind his smile, his sunglasses doing little to hide his lack of sleep. 

You gave him a sad smile and stood up to greet him when he crossed the street.

But your heart nearly stopped in your chest as Charlie slowly walked across the street, completely oblivious to the car coming towards him.

You called out to him, but by the time he was aware of the car… it was too late.

The car hit him, sending him to the asphalt in a blurry whirlwind. But you saw it clearly and you don’t think you could ever get the sight of his body hitting the ground out of your head. It was horrifying.

“Charlie!”

You furiously dialed 911 as you ran to Charlie, blurting out the information as soon as the dispatcher answered. 

Once you were told paramedics were on the way, you sat your phone down but stayed on the line.

“Charlie, Charlie,” you pleaded, voice cracking as you took his sunglasses off. “Charlie, look at me baby, show me those pretty green eyes.” Tears fell down your cheeks as blood from his head wound stained your hands.

You kept your eyes on his face, not wanting to see the damage to his legs. 

“Open your eyes damn it! This is not the time to catch up on sleep!” You gritted out between your teeth as you sobbed, holding the side of his face.

“Ma’am, ma’am, is Charlie breathing?”

You shook your head, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t see you.

“I-I don’t know…”

“Can you put your hand under his nose? You should be able to feel him exhale.”

You nodded, “O-okay.” You did as she said, sobbing in relief when you felt the small exhale on your finger. “He’s-he’s breathing but it seems really faint and-and his head is bleeding a lot.” 

“Do you have anything to stop the bleeding? A jacket or towel?” 

You shook your head again, hand pressing a little harder to his head, “Just-just my hand… oh God.. is he gonna die? Please, he can’t-”

“Not if I can help it, Y/N. The paramedics are less than a block away, we’re gonna get him the help he needs.”

You could only nod as his blood started to soak into your jeans and you held his head carefully in your hands, “Charlie, don’t you fucking clock out on me now. For the love of everything please, please just fucking open your damn eyes.”

But he didn’t.

He remained unconscious until the ambulance arrived and stayed unconscious on the way to the hospital.

You sat curled up in a chair facing Charlie as he laid in the hospital bed.

He had woken up briefly after his surgery, but fell asleep again not too long after.

You were thankful he didn’t remember much, but whether that was from the concussion or lack of sleep you couldn’t say.

You felt like a bad girlfriend for almost being grateful for this accident. That now Charlie could get some sleep and not have to worry about work. And you felt awful for thinking that but you knew that this was the kick in the pants he needed.

Did you blame yourself? Yeah, you did. Because had you done something sooner then maybe he would be in a better job already or at least anywhere but a sterile room with a broken femur and broken ribs.

But you were pulled out of your thoughts by Charlie’s phone ringing. 

Curious you checked it… and to your unsurprise. It was Rick.

You looked at your boyfriend and sighed, grabbing his phone and going out into the hall.

“What do you want?” You hissed out not wanting to wake Charlie.

“You’re not Charlie. Who is this?”

“This is Charlie’s girlfriend. Charlie can’t come to the phone.”

“Well can he come to the office? Because he was supposed to be back an hour ago, I need him to do a few things for me.”

You crossed your arms, “Like your son’s science project? Or what other meaningless task do you have for him to slave over and not get recognition for?”

“Excuse-”

“No, I’m not done talking. Shut the fuck up and listen. Charlie has done everything you have asked of him, and more, for the last three damn years! He has worked night and day to show you how dedicated he is to get a promotion, and you have noticed none of it.”

Rick stayed quiet on the other end of the line, so you continued.

“He comes home from waiting on you hand and foot, running around for your ungrateful ass, and he still works! He does shit that he doesn’t fucking get payed to do. He works off the clock for no extra money. You don’t have the fucking decency to even tell him ‘thank you’!”

You took a breath, not wanting to get too violent.

“Charlie is quitting. He won’t be coming in to work for the rest of the day, or coming in tomorrow, or coming in ever again. I’ll be in to collect his things later. Have the day you deserve Rick.”

With that you hung up and took a few calming breaths before walking back into the room.

“You told me this job would kill me… didn’t think you would be right…”

You looked up and over at him, “I meant it metaphorically… I didn’t think it would end up being reality.” He gave you a weak smile as you came and sat down.

You reached up and held his hand, “You scared the fuck out of me Charlie…” He swallowed and nodded, “I know… I don’t know why I didn’t see it or react sooner I-” “You were exhausted. You being as sleep deprived as you were, your cognitive abilities were fucked up and you missed it.”

He squeezed your hand, “I um.. I heard you and Rick…” You nodded, placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles, “Yeah?” He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut before letting his head drop back. “Thank you… I honestly don’t think I had the willpower to do it on my own…”

You sighed a little and sat up on the bed, gently pushing hair out of his face, “Consider yourself officially off the clock, Charlie Young. Get some sleep baby, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

taglist: @valmare @fanboyswhore9 @bradleybeachbabe @cassiemitchell @startrekfangirl2233 @horseshoegirl @nightowlalltheway

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[saym0-0]

cant stop thinking about rabbit sneaking away and immersing herself in drag culture before she could transition,,, been thinking abt it all day this headcanon means so much 2 me

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Ground hog's better than no ground hog, especially on February 2. Benny Zame, manager of the Trunz Pork Store at 226 Court St., Brooklyn, obliges with a demonstration of genuine ground hog, the only special available that day in 1950.

Photo: Brooklyn Public Library/Urban Archive