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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

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Last night thing

Jason todd x reader

Summary: he stopped you from stealing a $25,000 watch but missed something else. Part 2 to Late night Thing.

Warning: kidnap, fighting, smut

As Jason pulled up his pants and contemplated his life choices of sleeping with a beautiful thief on a rooftop, he came to a conclusion. You stole his damn tie clip. He had said that he would break your hand if you tried to steal it and dammit, you had. Somehow it simultaneously made him mad and horny. How the fuck had you managed that?

Jason knew that he wouldn’t find you that night. So he went back to his safe house to lick his wounded pride and plan his next move. He needed to get that clip back. It was a gift from Alfred and he would literally kill for it. Though he seriously doubted that he’d need to do that. And Jason would never admit it but he didn’t want to kill you.

He planned to find you sometime during the next week. His tie clip was expensive but not extraordinarily expensive but you had to find someway to sell it without him finding it, which would take time. Jason just didn’t know that it would be the next day that he would find you.

He heard that Bane was throwing his weight around in the drug trade for some damn reason. Wasn’t his venom addition enough for one man? So Jason was snooping around, or investigating as the bats liked to say. He fully expected a boring night of listening in a warehouse for hours and learning very little but instead almost fell through the glass at the sight before him.

You were strapped to a chair with rope. The pretty dress you wore the night before was in tatters but you were covered. Your eyes were red and your nose had dried blood underneath it. You were shivering like a leaf.

“I’m not here to negotiate with you. I’m here for Cat Woman. You are her child and she will come or you will die,” Bane said casually. You gasped.

“She’s going to be mad. Why would she work with you after this?” You asked, braver than you felt. He turned and coldly looked at you before stalking over. His giant fingers wrapped around your throat and you thrashed in the chair.

Jason stood up and moved to jump into the fight despite the fact that he really didn’t want to fight the brute. But Bane let you go and you audibly gasped and sucked air through open lips. You trembled and heaved.

“If she does not care about you, I will move on to her next kitten,” he said and you gulped. You didn’t know if she would save you. Jason looked through the room for a strategy. 2 exits and the skylight he currently looked through. 3 goons that he could easily take out. Oh, and a 300 pound juiced up super soldier. That broke Batman’s back years ago. Fuck.

“Let me go and I’ll do anything you want,” you said and even Jason up high in the rafters could hear the waver in your voice. Bane turned and stared at you and your mind almost couldn’t comprehend the massive size of him. He was easily half a foot taller than Red Hood and almost 100 pounds heavily and Red Hood towered over you.

“What could I possible want from you,” he asked with an icy curiosity. He was watching you for a reaction. You wanted to shrink away but that would be a failure.

“Anything you could want. Information,” you suggested. “About Gotham.”

“I have my sources.”

“Uhhh,” you breathed. “Gems? Money?” He shook his head. Your heart hammered in your chest. He was a man, right? You could sell that maybe? “Me?” You breathed.

He laughed before looking you up and down. “I do not want you carnally, child,” he said. You almost sagged in relief and Jason’s hand released the gun he didn’t know he was holding. “No. We will wait for Cat Woman and if she doesn’t come in 2 days, you are dead.”

You hummed in fear. Bane sat crossed legged and closed his eyes. He threatened to kill you and then fucking meditated. You helplessly pulled at the ropes on your wrists.

Jason tried to piece together how you got there and how to get you out. He knew that he couldn’t exactly call Bruce. ‘Hey dad, do you want to fight the guy who broke your back over a thief he has tied up. Why? I don’t know! I just like fucking her on rooftops!’ Never saying that.

Nope. Instead he would attempt stealth. Against one of the best trained fighters in the world for a woman that robbed him. Yea, maybe Jason should have stayed 6 feet under because he’s a fucking idiot. He sighed before slowly moving towards them. Bane was sitting cross legged with his eyes closed in a meditation back to you.

You suddenly saw Jason out the corner of your eyes and your eyes widened before going back to normal. Bane didn’t seem to notice the slight change in your breathing. Jason snuck over to untie you. He slowly pulled the rope from around your wrists and you were almost completely untied when the end of the rope barely grazed the ground.

Bane snapped his head around as Jason drew his guns. You gasped as Bane launched himself towards Jason. You ripped your hand out of the rope as bullets flew. You scrambled to the floor but was quickly pulled up by the giant man. He clutched you by the shoulder and you whimpered in pain. Jason suddenly froze.

“This is far more interesting that I first thought. I looked for a cat and found a bat,” he laughed. You squirmed in pain. He sat you down but the hand stayed on your shoulder.

“She’s not important. Let her go,” Jason said. The metallic voice from his helmet sounded bored.

“If she is unimportant, she is better off dead,” he said roughly pulling you in his arms and one hand gently wrapped around your throat but didn’t tighten it. You grabbed at his fingers and sobbed pathetically. Your eyes were wide and terror was plain on your face.

“Let’s not. Put the lady down and we can talk,” Jason said and it was weird to see Red Hood negotiating. He was usually the muscle in the situation. It really showed you how fucked you really were.

“Okay I’m intrigued. I will hear your proposal,” he said sitting you down. You scampered behind Jason. Your whole body trembled.

“I know Gotham underground better than you ever will. Sorry but you’re scary as shit but not in a good way,” he said with a shrug. If you didn’t know any better, he seemed casual. “I can get you the venom you need. No cost for a while.”

“How long,” Bane asked. He was the kind so get all the facts before proceeding. He also had the weakness of being completely addicted to venom.

“A months worth.”

“6 months.”

“3 months.”

“Deal. If you break this deal I will crush her windpipe with my hand,” he said with no emotion. It was a promise, not a threat. Jason felt you move closer to him.

“Deal,” Jason agreed. Bane moved closer and you clung to Jason. You were clinging to Red Hood. How pathetic. Jason stood taller and stared at Bane. They shook hands.

Suddenly Bane slapped Jason violently across the face and you yelped. Jason went to the ground but quickly got up to a defensive crouch. You jumped in front of him with your heart beating so fast you would soon faint.

“For invading my space and my business,” Bane said before walking away. “Leave.” He didn’t turn to watch.

You noticed a little crack in the Red Hood helmet. How hard did Bane hit him? Jason stood up and pulled you out of the warehouse with him. He quickly grabbed you and shot his grappling hook out of the area. About half a mile away, he landed on a building. You clung to him and trembled.

“Hey, you’re safe,” he said. “You can let go.”

You pulled off but shivered like a leaf.

“Shit, you’re cold. Here. Here,” he wrapped his jacket around you and it helped your temperature but not your shivering. “Come here,” he pulled you in his arms and you clung. His heartbeat felt reassuring and he awkwardly patted your hair. You could tell Jason wasn’t used to providing comfort.

“He- he,” you started but stopped. “Can we go somewhere safe?”

“Come on downstairs. This is my place,” he said and you nodded. You followed him inside and it was far warmer but you couldn’t stop the shaking. His jacket was replaced by a blanket and Jason sat you on the couch. The helmet came off but domino stayed on. You practically climbed on his lap to be closer. Your eyes were still wide with horror.

You’d been arrested, harassed, even shot at. But never kidnapped like that. And by the giant Bane at that. Jason could feel the fear and adrenaline coming off of you. He rubbed your back softly. You looked up at him suddenly after a few minutes.

“You saved my life. You put yours in danger to save mine,” you breathed. He shrugged, a little uncomfortable under your gaze. “Thank you,” you added.

“Uh you’re welcome. It’s no biggie.”

“Yes it is,” you said before kissing him. Your pace was dizzying and rough. Jason was in shock at first. Your hands roamed his body before dropped down to his belt and he almost jolted up.

“Not today,” he said, stopping your hand. “I mean, normally I’d love to but not now. Give it a few days.”

“Why?” You said with your voice all breathy. Your lips were swollen and eyes dark and he almost gave in.

“You were just kidnapped. You need sleep. Not sex,” he said sliding away from you. “Are you hungry?”

“Wh- you don’t think I could want you?”

“I’m not in the mood. Almost getting killed by Bane really kills the urge,” he lied. If he thought you were in your right mind, he would have fucked you on the rooftop or against the first surface he found. You jumped in front of Bane for him. He found it all incredibly hot. “You need a shower anyways.”

It was cold and cruel but better than sleeping with a traumatized woman. You shook and nodded before using his shower. Jason felt twinges of guilt but ignored them. He knew it was better this way.

You came in nothing but his t shirt that hung like a dress. “Nothing else fit,” you said awkwardly. He could see the scars that covered your legs and bruises around your throat.

“We can lay in bed,” Jason said just as awkwardly. He might know what to do with a woman who wants to fuck him but not just one sleeping over. “For sleeping.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t try anything,” you said with a little smile and he smiled back. You both laid in the bed and it wasn’t long until you pressed your back against his chest and pulled his arms around you. He was strong and safe. You managed to sleep all night with the anticipated nightmares. They had time later to come up. When you weren’t cradled in his arms.

The next morning you woke up warm. The rise and fall of his chest was comforting. His hand held your waist loosely and you could seriously just stay in this moment. But as soon as you moved, you almost giggled like a teenager. He was hard and pressed against your ass.

“Ignore that,” he mumbled.

“Okay... how?” You said after a few seconds. “Because it’s pretty unforgettable for the man I like to sleep with to have his hard dick pressed against my ass. Have to say.”

“We only did it once in a rooftop. Was it that unforgettable?” He said and you could hear the smirk he wore.

“It was alright,” you said playfully but you couldn’t help but press back into him. Jason grabbed your hip to stop you.

“Trying to get me horny?”

“I think you already are.”

“That’s true,” he said before grinding against your ass. You pushed back to do your own rubbing. “And you’re not even wearing any panties,” he said bunching up the fabric of his shirt you wore. He slapped your ass soundly and you gasped.

“What was that for?”

“My tie clip. I hope you still have it,” he said before slapping your ass again. You reached behind you to grasp his cock through his sweatpants.

“I’ll get it back to you,” you said. His pants were pushed down. Jason hummed and rubbed his dick between your thighs. You sighed at the sensation and arched your back so he was sliding between your folds instead.

“You’d better,” he growled but it had no true heat. Not when he was so close to finally fucking you and had his lips leaving little marks on your shoulder and neck. You tried to press back onto him but he stopped your hips.

“Do you deserve it,” he asked running a finger along your hip, every once in a while dipping between your thighs to barely touch your clit. You jumped and grabbed at his wrist to hold him there but he just chuckled and moved away from where you needed him. His thrusting between your folds felt amazing but not enough and he was purposefully avoiding sliding in your hole. Jason quite liked the way your body panted and curved in desperation.

Finally feeling that you had been tortured enough, and he wanted in your wet heat, he pressed his hips forward and filled you. You whimpered and leaned your head back against him.

“Yes,” you breathed. Jason took his time slowly thrusting, letting you fill his full length. His free hand moved from pinching your nipple to circling your clit. You were practically clenching him from the start and he loved it. You were so receptive.

It didn’t take long for him to find a pattern that just got you a little more vocal and focused on that. “God, you’re fucking wet,” he breathed in your ear and you whimpered. You seemed to like what he had to say.

“Taking me so well. Acting like such a good girl,” he said and you breathed out a “Hood” in response. Oh yeah, you didn’t even know the name of the man that you let fuck you. You trusted him enough to sleep in his bed and you’d never even seen his eyes.

His finger circling your clit and cock angled to drag along your g spot had you seeing stars as you came around him. Jason grunted and held your hips tight before quickly pulling out to cum on your ass. He looked as the pretty white beads covered your skin. He wasn’t forgetting that image any time soon. He reached for a towel to clean you up.

Afterwards you turned in his arms and kissed him soundly before lying your head on his chest. You reached up to play with his hair with a little smile on your face. Jason could get used to this. As soon as he thought it, he had the urge to jump up and kick you out. He didn’t do permanent. You were just having fun.

“I need a shower,” he said roughly, getting up. Jason couldn’t help but notice the disappointment on your face that you quickly hid.

“I should get going before my walk of shame gets any later,” you said with an awkward laugh.

“Borough anything you need,” he said before disappearing into his bathroom. While in the shower he had time to think. Yeah, I’m totally not broken to be cool with fucking a woman but not being able to hold her. Not a sign of being fucked up at all, Jason thought. Probably got that from Bruce. Though my real dad probably did it too.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and immediately saw a note on the bed.

Had fun, Hood. We should do it again sometimes, (your number)

💕 Kitten

His tie clip was set underneath it. Jason smiled. Okay, this could be fun. He was young and sowing wild oats or whatever, right?

There was no way this could go wrong, right?

#friday night smut #jason todd x reader #Jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #batboy x reader #Jason todd x thief!reader #red hood x kitten

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jj-babebank · 4 years ago

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Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 5

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being… Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death. Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4 Masterlist

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Part 5 -

53 days of camp left

The first day at Camp Willowdale was usually pretty straightforward – campers arrive, sign in, move into their designated cabins where they meet their counselors, then all gather in the Wildcat Lodge to get their schedules, maps, badges and compasses. Ever since Pricilla’s daughter left her, she ditched the idea of having a stable with horses at camp (saying it reminded her way too much of Wendy, and also cost a lot of money to maintain), and settled for scavenger hunts in full scout mode in the forest, hence the compasses and badges. Every camper was given a first badge for participation and would get the chance to earn new badges to add to their collection during their nine week stay. Pricilla made sure that there was a badge for literally everything – from successfully starting a fire to throwing out the trash. She liked to do this to make all the campers feel included and special, which on its own sounded like a wonderful thing, however her actual motives were selfish – happy kids meant happy parents, and happy parents meant money. She also liked to turn everything into a competition, so she established a scoring system that nobody but her understood, where she’d award or deduct points from different groups and the group with the most points at the end of the summer will be crowned conquerors of the camp at a made up end-of-summer event Pricilla named the “Camp Will-all-hail banquet”. Caroline always found the name to be extremely tacky, but much like mostly everything that Pricilla put her finger onto, it wasn’t surprising.

JJ and Caroline had gotten assigned to Teens 2. Unsurprisingly, everyone in their group was almost their age, which seemed like somewhat of a recipe for disaster, as Caroline feared that this could result in the teens refusing to follow orders from someone who is basically their age. She was pleasantly surprised to find out that their group of teens was actually quite well-mannered and well-behaved. John B and Sarah’s teens, however, were a whole different story.

“You sure you got T2 and not T1?” panted Sarah after finally sitting down at the counselors table beside Caroline for dinner.

Caroline smirked, “Positive,” she confirmed, not being able to hide her amusement at the sight of an already tired Sarah, “Why’d you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” said Sarah sarcastically, “Well, besides all the girls, and I’m pretty sure one of the boys, having a massive thing for John B, and them all quite literally being the spawns of Satan, hm… no reason,”

Caroline laughed at Sarah’s words, looking over at the table where her group and Sarah’s were seated at. Two of the T1 girls were giggling while telling a story, while everyone else’s attention was on them. Caroline came to the conclusion that they would be the It Girls at this year’s camp, bossing everyone around. She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony that it was Sarah who got these two as they were literally mini versions of her.

“Heard my name being called,” John B slid onto the bench across the table from the girls. Now that everyone had been sorted, the Wildcat Lodge seating area had been rearranged so that the groups would be sat together according to their ages, and the counselors would be sat together according to their groups. The head staff had their own table at the very foot of the podium, right next to where the food was, conveniently.

JJ was quick to join their group at their respective table, “What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Caroline said nonchalantly, “Just Sarah being jealous over her girls liking John B, no biggie,” Sarah kicked her under the table, earning an, “Ow!”

John B’s eyes immediately shot up, that familiar twinkle of excitement swimming through his honey orbs, “Jealous?”

“As if,” barked Sarah, squinting her eyes at him threateningly.

“We’ll see about that, baby cakes,” John B winked, diving into his dinner.

“So,” said JJ, lowering his voice in case any of the neighboring tables were listening, “What’s the plan, guys?”

Caroline shook her head, “I don’t even know where we could start, I mean, the only clue we’ve got so far is that message we had to scrub off the rock this morning before the campers arrived…”

John B thought for a second, “Hey, wasn’t Topper paired up with her?” he said suddenly.

Caroline’s eyes widened in realization, “John B, you’re a genius!” she said, earning a proud smile from the boy, “Last night at the counting, Topper said something about feeling guilty for not offering her his jacket!” the four of them turned to look towards Topper’s table. He was sitting quietly, barely poking at his food, while the rest of his fellow counselors were having an animated conversation around him. Caroline turned back towards her friends, “Chances are he was the one who saw her last!”

“Yeah, and judging by the look of his face, he doesn’t seem too excited about it,” remarked JJ.

“Can you blame him? I’d be pissed if I was paired with Madison, too,” muttered Sarah, scrunching her nose at the leafy salad in her plate.

“Tonight at the bonfire,” said Caroline, “Sarah’s going to offer him some help with his girls, seeing as he’s dealing with all of his kids alone,”

“Hey, why me?” Sarah frowned at the plan.

“Because you’re the one who had a massive crush on him back in the day,” Caroline whispered in Sarah’s ear, resulting in Sarah kicking her under the table again. Caroline bit back a groan as she smiled forcefully, looking at the two boys in front of her, “Okay, well, sounds like we’ve got a plan.”

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After handing out the songbooks and marshmallows to all of their teens, Caroline, JJ, Sarah and John B took a seat at their designated log next to their groups, which had somehow bonded during dinner and were all laughing together.

“Alright, settle down kids!” Pricilla said, causing everyone’s chatter to die down, “As you have already been informed, it is a Willowdale tradition to perform our very own rendition of Bomfiara every morning and night until the end of camp. The songbooks you’ve been kindly given by your counselors contain the lyrics to all of the camp songs we’re going to be singing this summer, but I’m sure that by the end of it you won’t be needing the books anymore,” Pricilla fake-laughed at her own joke while everyone just started at her blankly, “Okay, well, let’s sing!” she gave the tone and everyone started signing.

“This is so lame,” said one of the girls Caroline proclaimed as “It Girls” earlier that evening, “We’re too old for this BS,”

“You got that right,” mumbled Sarah.

“Oh, come on, I love it, it used to be our favorite tradition!” whined John B.

The two girls squealed and started pinching each other, immediately opening their songbooks and joining in on the singing, making intense eye contact with John B with their best seductive looks. Sarah rolled her eyes at the scene.

“See?” she whispered to Caroline, “This is what I meant!”

Caroline smirked at the blonde girl, “Am I sensing… jealousy?”

Sarah scoffed at the remark, “Pf, yeah right,” she said defensively, “I’m just annoyed that they’re only listening to what he’s saying and we’re supposed to be counselors together.”

Caroline nodded slowly, pretending to be buying the story, “Yeah, sure,” she turned to look at Topper, who regardless of the fact that he was surrounded by his group and fellow counselors, still seemed down, the camp fire illuminating his distant face, “Speaking of together, when do you wanna go talk to Topper?”

Sarah followed Caroline’s gaze towards the boy, “Once this stupid song is over,”

Caroline nodded and both girls turned towards their group again, where the It Girls were still making sexy eyes at John B, who seemed totally clueless to their approach as he was belting the lyrics of the much familiar song out loud, waving JJ’s hands every so often.

Once the song was over and everyone got back to their regular chitchat, Sarah stood up and straightened her shorts and camp sweatshirt as she made her way towards Topper.

“Hey, Top, this seat taken?” she said, referring to the empty spot on the log next to him where Madison was supposed to be sat.

Topper looked at Sarah as if she’d just said a distasteful joke, “Hey, Sarah…” he muttered, “Obviously not,”

“Awesome!” Sarah smiled widely, plopping down next to the boy.

“So,” Topper started awkwardly, “What brings you here?”

“Saw you from across the pit,” she explained directly, “Couldn’t help but notice that you seem lonely,”

“Yeah, well,” Topper looked at her with a look of disapproval once again, “I sort of am,”

Sarah pretended to only just realize what he was talking about, “Riiight… So, about that,” she chirped again, “Last night you said something about a jacket?”

Topper sighed, “Yeah, Madison said she was cold when we were in our cabin and instead of offering her my jacket, I sort of felt… relieved that she was going to leave me for a second to go grab hers. I should’ve known that something was wrong when she was gone for over 10 minutes, instead I just laughed around with Kelce and the boys and then we heard the scream…”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Oh, please, you’re not blaming yourself for it, are you?”

“I mean, I kinda am,” Topper confessed, “If I wasn’t too caught up in being annoyed that I’d been paired up with her, I’d have just given her my jacket or followed her to your cabin to get hers and none of this would’ve happened,”

Sarah tried putting on her best apologetic smile as she reached for Topper’s hand, taking him by surprise, “Look, Top, I hate Madison just as much as the next person, but I hardly think any of this was your fault. She probably just used the jacket as an excuse to ditch and got excited to see her rookie boyfriend, hence the scream,”

Topper frowned, “Don’t tell me you actually believe all that?”

Sarah shrugged, “I mean, she was a drama queen,”

Topper pulled his hands away from Sarah’s, shaking his head, “Just go, Sarah,”

Sarah looked over towards her friends across the fire pit who were all staring at her in anticipation, as she shrugged her shoulders and mouthed them a, “Sorry, I tried,” making her way back to where they were seated.

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A/N: Camp has finally officially begun and so has the search for truth ~~ As always, let me know what you think, I hope you are enjoying the story so far, I'm super excited to be writing this xxx

tags: @k-k0129 ; @hayleyy-l ; @marvellover04

Part 6 here

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hyper-cryptic · 4 years ago

Note

Oh yes, an ask ! What's the opinion/relation of Kate on the others companions ? Do they have a bestie ? Does she hate/dislike one of them ?

Hell yeah!! I am glad you ask about her, I absolutely adore talking about Kate! By the way, really funny fact, I have actually romanced most of the companions (Danse, I am coming for that ass), but canonicaly, their partners are Hancock and Nick! :D

Cait:

She admires her! Like, a lot! They think she is a super strong person, in both meanings! She loves how brave, how sassy she is! She’s just really fun to be with overall in Kate’s opinion!

About her drug addiction, Kate never really minded, but they were really concerned about her health. When Cait told her that she wanted to be cured, they didn’t hesitate to help her.

Kate knows Cait can be a better person, especially under her influence! She constantly makes subtle comments that might make Cait change her opinion on things. Every once in a while they sit down to talk about her insecurities if she’s ok with it!

Funny extra: Since their names sound literally the same, Kate asks to be called Kat! Or to call Cait, “Irish Kate” tho expect a very angry irish person coming down your way.

Curie:

Absolutely LOVES her!! They love her curiosity and optimistic personality! Thinks she’s adorable.

They were very supportive of her wanting to be a synth, she thought it was very interesting! Though, was also very worried about how they would get to it...She was relieved that she didn’t have to take anybody's life!

Kate loves to make Curie flustered. It’s honestly adorable to her how she gets mad about getting compliments because she gets distracted, or confused. She lets her know why, tho! Hahah.

Codsworth:

He is family. He had been since before the war. It was the only person she could actually be herself.

When the bombs dropped she couldn’t stop thinking about him, if he was fine, if he had survived. When they got out of the vault, she was so happy to see Codsworth alive and well.

Kate wasn’t able to leave Codsworth’s side during 1 whole months, if it wasn’t for him and Preston, she would’ve given up on everything, on the ‘whealth, on shaun, on herself.

She adores his dumb sense of humor and his ridiculous british accent.

Danse:

She...likes him? She certainly enjoys his company and thinks he is kind and great but his bigotry and loyalty to the BOS makes her really uncomfortable.

Kate could connect to him on an emotional level, but never actually be interested in him, no matter how much they tried. BOS was just a major shit that made her uneasy. She only joined because they could be helpful to get rid of the Institute, and she was going to until…

They straight up refused and told off Maxson, but he didn’t give her the choice. When Haylen begged them to hear out Danse, they told her that she didn’t need to worry at all and would do everything in her power to keep Danse safe. They tried to change Maxson’s mind about Danse, about synths, but as she expected, he didn’t. After this whole incident, she quit the BOS and decided to destroy the Institute with the Minutemen.

She offered him to stay with her, on the lighthouse, but after a BOS attack to a settlement she left him in, Danse insisted to let him live alone, that it wasn’t safe to have him living there so close to Shaun. Kate sadly had to agree, she couldn’t risk to lose Shaun or any of her companions. She still goes and visits him every once in a while! Even got him to meet Shaun! They got along and share a love for cowboys.

Deacon:

LITERALLY BESTIES. Imagine those girls in highschool that are always together, wear matching clothes and call each other “slut”, “whore” and “bitch” affectionately? That’s them.

They literally wear matching clothes when they travel together. (I make ‘em wear matching clothes…)

Kate always introduces them as “ The Death Bunnies”.

She catched up immediately with his compulsive lying. She doesn’t mind it, in fact she might even go along with it, depending on the context and what type of lie it is. She tries to help him with it, along with his impostor syndrome (...which comes...literally sometimes?) and he tries to help her too. Hoes got each other’s back.

If they aren’t with their partners, they are with Deacon. Hell, even when they are with Nick and Hancock she brings him, of course if it’s not private. Deacon gets along with Nick so it isn’t much of a trouble...but they literally have no idea why Hancock dislikes him, tried to ask him but he said “some things are best left unknown”, which left Kate even more curious but respected his...privacy...I suppose? She asked Deacon, he said that it was no biggie, but to get Hancock to hold a long grudge like that is really weird so she can’t believe him. What did he do? She might never know...

They adore him overall, and loves his dumb comments, which she tries to always reply without bursting in laughter.

Dogmeat:

Light. Of. Her. Days. Well! Of course after her partners!! *gulps*

They can’t go on with her days if she doesn’t pet Dogmeat at least...twice. She gives him kisses, pats and plays with him at the end of the day.

When they first met Dogmeat, they almost couldn’t believe it. It was like a light in the dark, he definitely made her days easier as she was trying to stay stable during those 2 dark months.

She almost never goes out with Dogmeat because she is really worried the radiation might affect him, or even die out there. She usually has this fear with most of her companions, but specially him, as he is a literal animal and will probably not know if something is really dangerous or not just looking at it.

She usually falls asleep with him on the couch.

Hancock:

Do I really even have to say anything? He is her everything along with Nick.

Kate’s first impression of him was: “Oh. FUCK. HOT?!”

Okay but really, she found him attractive and interesting after that first interaction. They had their doubts about him..you know him being a politician and all, but they quickly disappeared the more they interacted with him. Damn, the more she knew about him, the more she was interested in him.

About Bobbi, she was totally into robbing McDonough, she did question Bobbi a lot though, as she instantly noticed how shady she was. She actually realized they were going for Hancock instead mid-way but waited to get there to confront her, make sure she was right. She didn’t do it for Hancock, instead because she wasn’t going to rob somebody who didn’t deserve being robbed. Tried to tell her to get out, nobody needed to be hurt but Bobbi refused to, so she had to pull the trigger. She knows it was the right thing to do, but can’t help but think if it could’ve ended differently.

She loves Hancock so much, they can’t stop thinking about him. “What would Hancock think about this?”, “Hancock would love this”, “I wish Hancock could see this”, “I miss Hancock”, literally being so clingy.

Overall, she thinks he’s such an amazing person: he’s kind, he’s brave, he’s funny, he’s understanding, he’s adorable, he’s caring, he’s determined, he’s (very) handsome...I really could go on.

She tries so hard to get him to understand that he is an amazing person. He appreciates the efforts.

“watch you sleep” by girl in red is totally their song.

MacCready:

LITERALLY A LITTLE BROTHER. They adore him! They love how funny and sassy he is.

Kate had to constantly tell him that she doesn’t care about caps and that he can keep ‘em if he wanted, that it looked like he needed it more than her, and she’d be right!

When Mac told her about Duncan she was upset at first, how could he just leave his child like that? Never acted on it, since she knew it would make it worse, but she could quickly understand where he came from and why he did what he did. Didn’t hesitate to help him find the cure for Duncan.

They share a love for snipers and long ranged weapons so...that’s a topic they talk about a lot!

They both geek out about Silver Shroud every once in a while! Listen to the plays together and stuff like that!

Nick:

HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

They didn’t like him when they first met. They liked Nick’s humor, but couldn’t stop thinking about how much he acted like a cop, and let’s say Kate had their share of bad situations with cops because of race, and shit like that. Kate didn’t know a lot about synths at the time, so she just guessed somebody programmed a fucking cop persona into him. And she wasn’t going to deal with a cop bot that probably had a stick up his ass.

Eventually, when she got so oversaturated with work, and stressed out with the whole Institute shit, she decided to go and do some of the cases with Nick, she couldn’t wait to show this “cop” that even a “civilian” could do his work. As she worked through the cases, she began to notice that Nick was...actually ok? She had more knowledge about synths at this point, but still didn’t understand how Nick worked exactly. He did tell her that he was a prototype, between Gen 1 and Gen 3, so she quickly realized that he was no ordinary bot. She eventually warmed up to him, and could see the appeal.

It was like a bomb dropped inside her head when Nick asked if she was doing fine. Kate had never actually opened up with anybody, not even with Hancock. She mostly worked over her depression and anxiety by keeping herself busy and unhealthy thoughts like “they need me to be strong, I am a role model right now.” with the whole being a General thing, and the fact that so many people relied on her. Kate tried to be dismissive of it, but Nick could see right through her, and insisted that it was ok to open up. She had to get really drunk to do any of that shit! So they told him that they should both go to a “more private place”, as an excuse to get her hands on some alcohol. Didn’t end up drinking any alcohol, and just spilled most of it. Found comfort on his “origin story” with Diamond City.

He was a huge part in her full recovery, along with Hancock and Deacon. But honestly? If it wasn’t for him, it would’ve taken her snapping at anybody and being confronted about it to actually open up to anybody.

She didn’t realize she had any feelings for him until a month after that event. That they were storming into Eddie’s shelter that she realized that they loved him. All of this they were doing for him, the cute comments, the praising and trust they had in him...it became so clear why while he was talking to her after killing Winter, she couldn’t help herself but to dump on him why he was not just “a shell” how he was so much more than that. She didn’t actually confess her feelings to him there, but they were pretty close to doing it. If it wasn’t for her thoughts stopping her from doing it, what would happen with Hancock now? She still loved him deeply...

Eventually, two weeks after, they took a break at the end of the day from missions with Nick, at the empty bar that she had built inside the Castle. It was midnight and mostly everyone had gone to sleep, so they could talk about whatever they wanted and get as drunk as she wanted. They were having so much fun until Nick brought up something she had said that day they ended Winter’s life. Fuck. God, they wished they hadn’t been so busy to actually sit down with Hancock and ask him what he thinks of polyamorous relationships because she was way too drunk this time to stop herself from doing anything stupid. And she didn’t, Nick did, he corresponded but said that he couldn’t let her do this to John. Hah! Little did they know Hancock was super into the both of them. (I actually want to make a lil’ fic about this!!)

They just love him so much and connect with him on a whole new level. He and John make them so happy, she literally couldn’t ask for anyone or anything better than what they have going on.

I know it isn’t exactly a love song, but “Agnes” by Glass Animals reminds me of them.

Piper:

WHAT A LADY, AM I RIGHT? They adore her!!

She is literally her kind of lousy! Always speaking her mind, always speaking the truth. She admires what she does.

I really don’t have much to say about her, just that they really like her and that she thinks she’s a good friend and overall good person!

Was totally in to beat up McDonough’s ass.

Preston:

They think he is amazing!! He is so kind and caring, they like him a lot!

Let’s say that he liked him so much at some point they got together during those two months. It wasn’t a stable relationship and they both acknowledged that they just didn’t work. Besides, he was there when she met Hancock, and had this look in her eyes that he had never seen. Not to worry tho! He has been testing the waters with Sturges lately! ;)

They function better as friends! Besides, it was quite awkward for Kate their General/Soldier dynamic they had going on, so that was another thing!

She thinks he is so cool and amazing, and they let him know this!

Kate teases him about when they were a couple and they laugh it off.

Honestly, he was a big help for Kate during those months and she is really grateful for all his help. They were both really important for each other.

X6-88:

They didn’t get to know him as much as they wanted.

It all was happening so fast, they couldn’t do anything to convince him to get out of the Institute before it was too late.

And it was. They had to kill him along with the other coursers.

In their time as companions, they thought he was enjoyable to be with. He looked like he could be saved, but...yeah.

They made him a grave in the Institute’s remains.

Aaaaaaaaand, that’s all!! Gosh, that was loooong!! Can you see I was really eager to talk about Nick and Kate’s relationship? Yeah, that shit is long.

(I literally finished this yesterday...at 2 am or something)

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sdpafanblogofsupremefunk · 5 years ago

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Season 1, Episode 1: A Different Place

Where better to begin talking about a show than the beginning? Like most shows, Sítio do Picapau Amarelo has a pilot episode.

...Okay, in this case, “pilot episode” is just a fancy way of saying “first episode”. Much like Rick & Morty and DT17, SDPA doesn’t really have a pilot episode that isn’t just the first episode (unless you count Doc and Mharti as R&M’s pilot, which I’d rather not), so to begin the series, we kinda have to jump right into the mess of things.

It’s like A Quiet Place, but not stupid.

As the episode begins, we are introduced to a two men on a horse-drawn cart. The man in the red box is a book salesman who’s a little down on his luck in terms of profits.

A little.

This guy isn’t really given a name, and I don’t want to call him “The Salesman” the whole time because that’s stupid. So I’m going to give him a name. Mr. Simmons will do nicely.

Anyways, Mr. Simmons falls out of the cart when it hits a patch in the road, and when he picks himself up, he sees a quaint little house on a farm, with an old woman knitting on the porch.

Here, we are introduced to the first of our main cast, Dona Benta, a kind elderly lady who owns this little patch of heaven known as the Yellow Woodpecker Farm. Yeah, didn’t take us long to get there, huh?

So Mr. Simmons sees this old woman in the middle of (what he believes to be) nowhere, and decides it’s the perfect opportunity to make a quick buck believing that:

Which, I dunno, man, she seems pretty comfortable just sitting in her rocking chair, knitting. Like, even as an outsider who doesn’t know a lick of what goes on in this farm, I’d say she’s content as she is, but anything to make some cold hard cash, I guess.

Also, I would not ever call this place a desert, even for the sake of exaggeration. There’s grass everywhere, bushes, trees, flowers, the works. If this where anything like a desert, I do not think this woman would be here, to put it simply. But, I digress. And I hydraulic press, but we won’t be seeing that.

So, Mrs. Benta goes inside to call for the kids, and here we meet 3 of our other actors:

Here, we see Pedrinho (or Little Pete, the boy in the blue overalls) and Narizinho (or Lúcia “Little Nose”, the girl in the red dress), cousins and Mrs. Benta’s grandchildren. They’re playing tag, I think, but they’re stopped in their tracks with their Grandma in the way, and-

Hang on, I feel like we’re forgetting something.

Oh, right. I almost forgot Emilia. She’s basically the reason I watch this show, no biggie.

Anyway, she’s in a race with the kids, when they’re blocked by Grandma. Emilia makes the smart move and cuts right under Mrs. Benta. It looks like this:

Another reason I like this show so much, it’s rife with smears, which I feel like any good cartoon should have. Like here, where Emilia friggin’ nyooms right under Mrs. Benta like a comet.

Emilia reaches the finish line at the bookshelf, where we see the Viscount of Sabugosa, a puppet made out of an ear of corn who’s very smart and polite. (His name is a pun, “sabugo” means corncob in Portuguese, and it’s a parody of the Count of Sabugosa, of which there were 9, the first being Vasco Fernandes César de Meneses in 1729- but everybody calls him Viscount and so will I because blah)

In this show, the Viscount is the actual size of an ear of corn, which makes sense, he is, after all, a puppet made out of one. I think it’s really funny that the cartoon is slightly more realistic than the live-action show it’s based on in this regard, because in the 2001 series, for whatever reason, the Viscount towers over everyone:

And he has a sick mustache.

Like, I don’t get it, out of all the characters, you made the guy made out of corn the tallest one in the cast? I get that the technology to make him actually small probably wasn’t all there yet, Grandpa in My Pocket was still 8 years off, but you really couldn’t find a guy that wasn’t the same height as Shaq?

Yeesh, only 2 minutes in and I’m getting sidetracked this often. Well, I guess it’s better than having nothing to talk about.

Anyway, Emilia wins the race, but the other two kids run into her, smooshing her against the bookshelf-

-and pwning her so hard she briefly grows fingers on her hand (and turning it into a left hand apparently, because the thumb is on the wrong side)

Mrs. Benta explains that Emilia and the other mystical beings must hide from the impending salesman.

Oh brother, I was wondering when we’d get to this guy. This is Marquis of Rabicó (Portuguese for Short-tail). Literally the first thing you read about him on the show’s Wikipedia is that he’s fat (which you think would be a given cuz he’s a pig), and his part of the Characters section isn’t much better, stating that he’s a “gluttonous, selfish, cowardly and lazy pig” and most of his episodes involve him getting himself and/or others into trouble by being a gluttonous, selfish, cowardly and lazy pig. He’s only ever onscreen to cause problems, either directly or by proxy. If I were to sum him up in one meme, it would be this:

Now, I don’t hate Rabicó, I’m actually quite indifferent towards him, but he does bring down a lot of the episodes that he’s a major part of. Thankfully, there aren’t too many episodes featuring him in the first 2 seasons, but from what I hear, Season 3 goes ham with that shit (pun intended) and it brings down the quality of the season as a whole, so it’s a good thing that’s as far off from now as it is. I want to enjoy the lack-of-pig while it lasts.

But hey, at least he doesn’t look like this:

Don’t do drugs, kids.

Rant over, Mrs. Benta explains that she wants things to look normal because the Yellow Woodpecker Farm is a very peculiar place, where all kinds of weird and wacky stuff goes on, and if word gets out about it, the place will be filled with tourists wanting to get a peek of the action.

Something that Mrs. Benta probably didn’t consider is that there’s a bigger threat to being exposed than just filthy tourism. That’s right, I’m talking about the GOVERNMENT.

I mean, think about it. How many movies have you seen where the government tries to hunt down an unnatural being? E.T., the Sonic Movie, a third one I can’t think of right now, etc. (Lilo & Stitch does not count) Now, I can’t speak for Brazil’s government compared to the U.S., but I know there’s gotta be a division dedicated to dealing with unnatural things that would no doubt arrest Emilia, Rabicó, Viscount, etc. and run experiments on them. Then again, maybe this cartoon takes place in a world where the government doesn’t even exist. I mean, we never really see any urban settings in the show (aside from a brief mention of “the city” in the finale), so for all I know, the world of Sítio do Picapau Amarelo is run by Vermin Supreme.

Real talk, you should all be ashamed of yourselves for not voting for this guy back in 2016.

Initially, Emilia won’t go into her box, but then she gives in and is dragged there by Aunt Nastácia, the housemaid of the farm with a knack for making dolls (so she’s essentially Emilia’s mom). She doesn’t really do much in this episode, but the Fat Bastard does even less, and I still mentioned him.

So Mrs. Benta lets Mr. Simmons into the house and he does this whole spiel about how great the books are, how they can take you to worlds you never imagined, fantasy and action, yadda yadda.

Meanwhile, the kids are off to the side and they’re all like “Well, we met the actual Hercules, get on our level scrub”. And of course, Emilia is watching with them, instead of in her box.

As Simmons keeps on rambling, Emilia is being a little peeping tom, not realizing that one turned head could lead to her being dissected like a high school frog.

Apparently, Emilia thinks she’s a regular Bart Simpson, with shit like spitballs and pulling out the man’s leg hairs. She’s really pushing her luck here, and for little reason. Sure, Simmons called the place boring, but that’s how it’s supposed to be to him.

Of course, Pedrinho and Narizinho are nice enough kids that they bail her out on this one and pretend it was them.

And before Simmons can ask what the hell is going on, Mrs. Benta gives him the money for the books and sends him out the door. And once he’s out...

I’ll give you a hint: it rhymes with go.

Of course, they’re not out of the woods yet, cuz Simmons is getting a little suspicious.

Busted. The truth is revealed, all laid out for Simmons to see. A talking rag-doll? Inconceivable! And yet, there it is.

Come on, Viscount. I would expect you of all people to uphold what Mrs. Benta said and stay hidden. You’re smart enough, you should already know what’s at stake, or at least that something is at stake. I mean, I understand that the cat is already out of the bag, but you’re not helping.

Also, you’re thumb is clipping into your bowtie, you should get that checked out.

Rabicó, I hope you get turned into salami. Not out of spite or anything, but just because I like salami.

Naturally, Simmons believes he’s struck gold and found the ultimate tourist trap. But when Emilia points out that if he tells anyone, he’ll sound like a crazy person-

-he straight up Villager Neutral B’s her,

hails a horse, and books it.

Wow, Viscount. Dick move mangling Mrs. Benta’s glasses like that. And all for an impromptu magnifying glass, which is pointless-

-because we can see the horse tracks perfectly fine without them.

(The Viscount isn’t this much of a jerk in the rest of the series, I swear.)

So, the gang follow the tracks until there are no more, which leads them to a corn store.

Wait, a... corn store? As in, a store that mainly, if not exclusively, sells maize and maize accessories? Compared to vegetables in general, that’s quite a niche market, I can’t possibly imagine finding a success in building an entire business around one type of vegetable. Corn is simply not as versatile as something like chocolate or cheese.

Oh no, wait, it’s just a bar. I guess this cartoon takes place in the middle of Prohibition 2: Return of Jafar, and the whole “corn store” thing is just a set up for a speakeasy. (I mean, you could also argue that it’s a diner, but I’mma go with bar because it’s funnier.)

And I’m guessing Simmons expects the place to put all of the meals on his tab, considering he’s going to get the money later with all the tourism. But then, why doesn’t he just pay with the money he got from selling Mrs. Benta those books? So he pulls Emilia out of his bag to show everyone that he has a talking doll and...

Hm. Probably should have put some air holes in that bag.

Anyway, the gang comes in, and Mrs. Benta asks for the doll back, with Narizinho hamming up her Oscar-worthy performance:

So everybody’s giving Mr. Simmons a mean glare:

Including this gentleman who looks like someone just insulted his favorite MHA character (it’s probably Tsuyu):

So Mr. Simmons desperately tries to convince everyone that the doll indeed does talk, and that she comes from a wacky place, but Aunt Nastácia intervenes and says that it’s just a normal doll.

She just straight up roasts Emilia, who (big surprise) does not take it very well. To the point that she is very visibly angry, which you think the barflies would notice.

I mean, look at that and tell me that you wouldn’t notice anything weird.

But anyways, they get the doll back and we get this cute group hug.

D’awww.

So they leave with Emilia-

as Mr. Simmons is beaten to death offscreen for stealing from a little girl.

As the gang walks home, Viscount bends Ms. Benta’s glasses back to normal. Took you long enough, ya jerk.

Not even close, my dear. This is only the beginning.

Well, that was a very good first episode. It introduces the world and many of the main characters very well. And while there were a few issues I had with it, they’re really just nitpicks that don’t detract from the episode as a whole. Overall, a good effort, 8/10.

So, yeah, that’s the first episode down. Join me next time when we watch episode 2, and meet a very vile villain.

Very vile indeed.

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lexosaurus · 6 years ago

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Yeah uh this happened

So basically it was like a year and a half ago I was subletting this random ass apartment for 3 months in my city. It was nearby an amazing sandwich place that happened to be a Russian drug front—but they made a MEAN chicken parm ok i stan—and this other store that just openly sold meth and heroin to homeless people. It wasn’t a bad area per se, but it wasn’t a 5 star resort either.

My sublet was...about what you’d expect. Water damage here and there, construction outside, neighbors who smoked copious amounts of cigarettes, a roommate who never came out of his room, the occasional cockroach, etc. Those were all easy to deal with, and if that was all then I would have been fine.

One of the main selling points of the apartment was that, for everything that sucked about it, it had a garbage disposal in the sink! Oooo fancy! It was actually super useful too cuz it was about 90 degrees F and I was trying to keep bugs out of the apartment.

If you’ve never had a garbage disposal before, essentially how it works is instead of scraping food into your trash can, you throw it all down your sink and flip a switch. The food falls beyond a rubber stopper into the actual disposal where it gets ground to mush and sent far far away from you.

So the first time I noticed anything strange was when I was scraping some leftover food from dinner down the sink. It got caught in the rubber piece. Ok, no biggie. I took a knife and poked it through. Then, all of the sudden, my fingers started tingling. I pulled my fingers up only for...nothing to be amiss. The tingling stopped immediately and my fingers didn’t hurt. I was convinced I had imagined the whole thing and went about my day as normal.

The next day I realized I’d taken a banana out of the fridge to eat, had forgotten to eat it, and has subsequently forgotten to put it back in the fridge. There was a heat wave in the city which meant that overnight the banana had gone from yellow to completely brown and inedible. I didn’t wanna leave the banana rotting away in the trash can, (no way did I want to start breeding flies no thank you) so I figured I’d just break it into smaller pieces and shove it down the garbage disposal.

I took that fucker out of the peel and start shoving it past the rubber stopper in the sink with my bare hands. That’s when the tingling started again. I pulled my hand up and...again, it was gone. Huh. I was convinced the heat was getting to me, and that banana really needed to be Gone anyways so, c’est la vie.

I kept shoving it past the rubber stopper when finally I shoved my hand too far past and hit an exposed wire. Yup, that’s right. The garbage disposal had an exposed wire. You know, under the sink where there’s water and stuff. And Now My Hand.

My entire arm immediately seized.

I can’t remember exactly what it felt like now, but it was the strangest feeling. In fact, it was so strange that when I finally got my hand out of the sink, I literally had had no idea what happened so I went ahead and made myself lunch. It didn’t hit me till 10 minutes later, as I was biting into my sandwich, I glanced at my very red and swollen hand and realized oh shit I was just electrocuted.

The next day I called the landlord who sent this guy up to replace the garbage disposal. I warned him before, “hey this thing electrocuted me. be careful.” But I’m a Little Innocent Smol Girl so of course I was exaggerating. This dude blew me off like “ya ya whatever” and then he STUCK HIS HAND DOWN THE SINK TOO. I watched this complete DUMBASS freeze before he ripped his arm up from the sink, cursing like he just got kicked in the balls.

He calmed down, turned to me, and said, “Oh...you actually have a problem....hang on...” and then shot out my front door. I stood there like rolling my eyes and then before I knew it, the entire power system in my apartment turned off. About 20min later he reappears with all new equipment and went, “Ok. We’re good now.”

He replaced the garbage disposal, tightened a few valves while he was at it, and told me not to stick my hand down the sink anymore.

And that’s the story about how I electrocuted myself doing the most mundane thing you could possibly do in your life.

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kenbakerhateshislife · 3 years ago

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list 10 songs you really like, each by a different artist, and then tag 10 people to do the same. Tagged by @junkshop-disco 🖤.

1. Charli XCX - Yuck

fav off her new album

2. Sugababes - Switch

not so much a song as a life philosophy

3. MARINA - Shampain

are u gay Sam u haven’t mentioned it

4. Madonna - Rain

had a three week argument with a guy about the best Madonna song. he got to write his opinion in a national newspaper but I got to post mine here so who’s the real winner

5. Flock of Seagulls - Space Age Love Song

my dad, who’s quite goth legs uncle, used to take me to work with him in the summer holidays. he had this on a CD in his van. always reminds me of driving through the West Pennine moors with the windows down and him bluffing his way through educating me about local landmarks

6. Bloc Party - This Modern Love

listened to this a lot when i was trying to come out to my parents and they were far too busy getting divorced to pay attention to any of my not especially subtle hints

7. John Mellencamp - Authority Song

seemed appropriate to include my and JD’s song, from when we tried to go to a gig in Bournemouth and ended up living our worst lives instead, with this as the soundtrack. it stuck with me and now whenever things go wrong i put this on and yell ‘i fight authority, authority always wins’

8. Lorde - Biting Down

obsessed with this EP when it came out. this and Love Club (esp the Lorde vs Biggie bootleg Can I Get Witcha Love Club mashup) remain my favs of hers

9. War on Drugs - Thinking of a Place

my on a bus in the rain want to feel like i’m in an indie film song

10. The Carpenters - I Can’t Make Music

if you make it to a third date with me, i will disclose two things. one, i collect anxiety disorders like pokemon and it will at some point fuck up our relationship and two, i unironically love the Carpenters and you just gotta deal w it

#forgot to tag people #if you want to do it #have at it

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vonsvarietyblog · 7 years ago

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Retrospective: Animal Crossing pt.3

Pick your own darn fruit, Snake!

Continued from part 2 | Start at the beginning

The thing is about these guys sometimes is that they like to ask you to do chores. Okay, that’s fine. Decency is a virtue in itself and it pays a lot to give those in need a good turn. Because, they’d give you another, usually in a form of a reciprocal gift. But sometimes, they can get a little needy with you when they want you to do simple chores. I did get asked by that little doofus on top to grab some fruit for him as a solid... right beside a peach tree when he could just pick a peach by himself. And you call yourself a Jock, buddy. Like, really, Snake, you can shake trees in New Leaf now, it ain’t that hard! But yeah, the thing is, the game unintentionally had the neighbours become maybe a bit lazy on how they wanted to do things by themselves even for really simple tasks, the more you go on and say “Yes”. From a gaming standpoint though, it’s simply just more things for you to do around in the town, I guess. And have a cookie. Ultimately, in the game, it’s fine since kindness deserves a reward. It’s a bit sketchy in real life however. You gotta admit, sometimes, you gotta try to learn not to be a doormat or learn to say “no” if you have a lot going on, in real life. Though, not saying you should be a dick either, so you gotta try to at least help those in need if you can, out of decency.

Also, the neighbours can get sick, and this is especially true in Wild World where sometimes I notice why aren’t they out. Turns out a little dark cloud on their head and them walking around like a zombie, sneezing, is any indication of them getting a bad cold. Medicine bought from Nook’s (or his nephews in New Leaf) is pretty much a miracle drug as far as I know that could cure any ailments my little dude or the animals have. I tend to get stung a lot when I shook trees only to find some bees trying to murder a kid because I broke their hive, so I do have some spare medicine in my cabinets back at my house. Luckily the spare medicine works on my neighbours and they perked up right quick. Doing solids like these would really put them into their good books and sometimes, they’d even give medicine to you too if you’re stung!

Speaking of getting stung, some villagers might make fun of you for that, laughing out loud right in front of your face (SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!). Talk about being a dick! So, a quick flick with your bug net, a shovel, a pitfall trap or talking to them repeatedly in one go (though sadly, not an axe) could annoy them a hell lot for vengeance!

VENGEANCE

Or, to dick around because you’re as bored as Flowey is, making people’s lives as miserable as possible. There’s one part that you could be a huge nuisance intentionally, by taking a shovel in the middle of the night and slamming it reaaaaaaallly hard on people’s doors for instance. Okay that was Nook on the Gamecube version but, damn, that’s mean. I know some people intentionally bully their neighbours like this so that they’d leave town out of spite or anger but you can’t help but sometimes feel sorry for them being subjected to those terrible things happening to them, especially if they end up being breaking their hearts instead of pissed off. Or maybe I’m just a wuss

Sometimes, you get to be a dick when you don’t mean it. Before New Leaf, your neighbours might want to meet up with you or invited you to their house, for example. A promise for a date or appointment means that you need to set a time for that in real hours, like, say, 10pm. And man, they really do get sad or angry when you missed those appointments. It’s something that I can’t really help that, at times, that I can be absent-minded. Even when I invited them or them inviting me to their house at a set time, I could forget about it. Maybe it’s work, maybe I lost focus, a lot of things. But keep in mind, a promise is also a promise, even when I do it to a bunch of pixels. And nobody enjoys getting stood up. Though, things mend as always. Goldie may dislike me for that missed appointment but I do managed to fix things between us later. Heck, she probably forgotten what pissed her off before! It’s some sort of negative reinforcement that’s oddly missing in New Leaf however. Last time, I missed an appointment with Mira, since I went out for a while and Mira was just wondering why I haven’t come to her house when I came at like, 8pm from 5:30pm when we agreed on. She wasn’t angry at all about that which is refreshing but... odd. Could shrug it off as something that I don’t do every time we made an appointment but I can’t make that a habit either. The funny thing is that they do that to me too sometimes! (I still love ya, Bob. No biggie.)

#animal crossing #acnl #retrospective #gaming

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soulful-ofevans · 8 years ago

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One Call Away - Chris Evans

word count - 2000+ (this one’s a biggy, whoops haha)

warnings - Sad. Fluffy. Sad.

people - Chris Evans and Reader

summary - Chris wakes up in the middle of the night to a call he’d least expect, asking for him to be there for her... even though he’s taken.

January 19th 3:00 am

Chris heard buzzing in his dreams, and he swatted at the bee that flew around him, interrupting his dream of being home and playing chess with his mom while somehow fighting Trump in his Captain America uniform. His conscience was getting the best of him these days…

Yet still, he couldn’t get the bee out of his head, it surrounded him and the sound got louder, was there more bees? What was this? Bee-

His brain and mind woke up startling himself from his deep dream state to the buzzing next to his ear. He had fallen asleep with his phone next to his face, must’ve been scrolling through comments and emails for too long… from the darkness and stillness of his apartment in Georgia, it seemed to be still night or early morning. Who would call this early? Picking up the phone, Chris became more so concerned than confused, he hit the green and put his phone up to his ear. He heard her breathing heavily and sniffing very loudly. It was a few seconds before either spoke. Her voice came out as a weak whimper, making his heart twinge with pain. “C-Chris? Are you there?” She sniffled on the other line, whipping her nose with her Kleenex. Throwing it amongst the pile of them that surrounded her. Almost shaping around her like she was on a cloud, far away from her pain that held her in a panic state of mind. But no, she was stuck inside a tear and snot covered ring of tissues.

To be honest, (Y/N) didn’t even remember dialing the phone, or even hitting his number. It only hit her who she had called when he finally spoke through the phone, groggy and concerned. “(YN)? What is it? I'm here. I’m here, sweetheart. What’s… what’s happened?” Letting out a sob she couldn’t hold in any longer, she banged her head against the wall of her rented apartment, trying to get this pain that was stuck in her body. Her bones ached, her heart was gone. She was a skeleton of (YN), trying desperately to find her body.

She sobbed loudly and he held the phone away as he heard a loud bang and some mumbling from her. Okay, what the fuck is going on. “(YN)? Wha-I’m here.” He huffed, sitting up in bed, turning the light on next to him on the bedside table. She cried and cried, but Chris didn’t have the heart to interrupt. She wasn’t being assaulted, which was good. But whatever was going on, she needs his help, or someone’s at least. “I’m sorry to-to call…but.” She stopped, sucking in the escaped air from her rapid breathing. “I just have no one else.” She let out a cry and that was it. Putting her on speakerphone, Chris jumped from his bed and grabbed his two-day old jeans on the ground and a sweatshirt laying on his desk chair. His bedroom walls bounced with the sound of her cries. Slowly, she tried to regain her strength to talk but all that could come out where little cries. Every time she just remembered the messages, and that goddamn voicemail replayed in her mind.

“Hey-hey, (YN)?” Chris brought her back down to reality. He was rushing to get out the door. She finally let out a small voice, and used as the vocal cord strength she could manage, “Yes?”

Grabbing his keys, Chris bolted out the door and started his car. Holding on tightly to her tiny, destroyed voice that came from the phone in his left hand.

“What’s your street address, sweetie? I’m coming, don’t worry.” She told him the number and he started on his way. “I’m not going to hang up, sweetheart. I’m gonna stay on the phone with you until I get there, okay?” He heard an okay that was disguised in between sobs and sniffles.

The ride was silent, just the sound of the occasional sob, a harsh intake of breath or the dirt beneath his tires was heard between the two. (YN) felt embarrassed by the fact her friend had to come see her like this. The fact that she couldn’t hold herself together made her feel weak and not the woman she was raised to be. Her mother was a firm believer in never letting a man see you cry. Holding in the tears until your in private. Her mother was warm and loving, but she had to take on a masculine role to keep her rowdy children in check. (YN) couldn’t blame the woman for having a bulletproof exterior.

Finally arriving at her home, he saw her door was unlocked and ran inside, looking around the large apartment for any sign of her. “(YN)!” He called out. At this point, her tears were dried, and only the pain remained tattooed on her body. She banged on the wall, unable to even give a shout or call. Soon she saw his shoes, and then his face. That beautiful face she could not have. That beautiful face that stared at her in concern. His next words sent her over the edge, making every block she had built for her fort against her feelings for the gorgeous man in front her crumbled down. He took down a stonewall building with those five words, “Baby, tell me what’s wrong?”

Her little chin began to wiggle and he knew she was about to let out whatever was causing her this much pain. He saw her nose was bleeding but he knew that she got those when she was extremely stressed out or in pain. Letting out, what sounded like a cough of grief she let him take her into his strong arms, holding her tight. “I-I couldn’t think of anyone else to call. I’m sorry!” She screamed out, against her screaming sobs. He just kissed her head and rocked her back and forth letting her scream, letting her cry. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s just you and me.” He kept repeating this, as he rocked her softly back and forth. He’d stroke her hair and feel the curls brush through his fingers and smelled the sweet koi koi oil shampoo she loved so much (he had no idea what that was, but the smell made him weak on his feet).

Chris felt the tears pour down his face with each scream she let out, he couldn’t help it. It was like the pain she felt was transferring into his conscious. Chris and (YN) were both very empathetic people, and they felt other's sadness and happiness.

It wasn’t something many people had together, that’s what made her special to Chris … and that’s what made Chris even more special to (YN). He saw her phone buzz again and he saw the texts. With one free hand from cradling her tiny, balled up and shaking body, he held her phone close to his eyes. Scrolling through the messages that were popping up on her phone, they just kept pouring in more and more.

(YN)… I’m so sorry. / Call me if you need someone, I know he was important to you loves xoxo / Baby call me I’m concerned! Chris assumed that was (YN)’s boyfriend as he rolled his eyes past the endless I’m concerned texts she got from him. If he was really concerned how come he didn’t come to see her, instead he’s probably just asleep all cozy with no fucking care in the world. Dick.

Chris kept scrolling, still rocking her back and forth when he found the cryptic message from her friend. (YN)… Ryan passed away this morning. They think drug overdose but are not sure. I’m so sorry. Call me if you need someone to talk too. When you're ready to let’s get started on a statement. - Love Mill. xoxo

“He’s gone! He never said goodbye! Why don’t they say goodbye! I can’t do this, I’m losing my mind! Help me, Chris, please. I’m losing my fucking mind, I can’t think of anything but him, and everything and, his girl-girlfriend! She was dating him…they we're in love!” He nodded, as she began to have her arms spasm that came along with the anxiety and pain.

“Her pain. I can’t think- I can’t fucking- IT HURTS! I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS.” Chris could only just hold tighter, bringing her to his chest to try and stop the angry fit her body was going through. He could only hold tight and kiss her head harder once more before he let go and stood up. (YN) looked up, like a wounded doe who had been shot. Not knowing where he was going frightened her even more. Anyone leaving know frightened her. What if she never saw him again?

All Chris did was cross over to her dresser and look around, “Do you have your record player in here?” She nodded and pointed to her blue painted bookcase. There was where the player sat, all closed up. Chris reached down and picked (YN) up as gently as he could and sat her on the bed. (YN) still sat in a ball-like formation but her back was straightened a bit more, letting her head show now from behind her knees. Chris grabbed the three records that laid across the top of the mahogany record player, assuming she played these last.

“Pick the one that makes you feel the best, sweetheart.” (YN) pointed immediately at the bright blue one, embroidered with the one name he knew she loved so much.

Chris set up the record player, and with a little static and a few changes in the volume; she soon heard the voice, one that soothed her soul more than words could say, “Frank.” She whispered, up at Chris. He nodded and held out his hand. “We are going to dance, baby. We are going to dance until you fall asleep or your heart is mended again. Okay? Let’s go.” She shook her head, whipping her tears on her already soaked sleeves, “You have a girlfriend… it’s not right. I-I just… I don’t know why I called you. I needed someone and somehow I picked you.”

Chris glanced at her, a little hurt by her reaction but also surprised. She’d rather spare his girlfriend’s feelings than help her aching heart by dancing with me. “Well, let’s just let the record play, and we can just lay here, on the bed.” (Y/N) pulled her head down, defeated with grief she couldn’t disagree anymore. Whatever Chris would do, she’d be happy with. He picked her up gently and got her tucked under the covers. Chris laid on top, as to not have anything happen or anger either of their partners if they found out about this.

Now it was just them, and Frank. Softly, she glanced lazily up at him, sitting up onto her headboard. closing his eyes. She grabbed his hand gently, and he opened those gorgeous blue eyes quickly, looking down at my sad state. “He’s gone, Chris.” I wept. He could only nod and wipe the fallen tear that escaped down her soaked, puffy flamed cheeks. “Sleep tonight, look up at the stars and smile… he’s there wishing you’d stop crying. You know that, (Y/N). I know you do, in your heart.”

His words were automatic, shocking not only (YN) but Chris as well. (YN) said nothing, but lightly held onto his hand. Loose enough so that he could slip out if he wanted.

But he didn’t. Chris wanted to be here in the morning, to help (Y/N) with the realization of her best friend’s death.

“For what is a man, what has he got, if not himself, then he has naught, to say the things he truly feels... and not the words, of one who kneels...” Chris sang along, closing his eyes softly. Gripping her hand just a little tighter, and wrapping his other arm around her more securely. She shed tears in her sleep, and he wiped them away silently. After a couple of hours outside the warm, inviting comforter, Chris broke down and shrugged off his shoes quickly covering himself in her soft comforter. He laid there, as wide awake as the wolves. He’d be here until she was ready. Not leaving until she told him too. (YN) had enough loss and Chris was never going to leave her side until she wanted him to go. Tonight was all we had. For the first time, we just had each other. That’s all (YN) could have ever wanted. His arms around her, his thumbs wiping the tears that still fell even as Frank and Chris harmonized silently to her as she slept. Her heart hurt, but someone she felt a numbing of love with him holding her. She had no one else, nor did she want anyone else.

That bitingly cold air that nipped at his skin that January morning, she still had Chris. For the first time in her life, she had him there with her. Alone and at her aid. She couldn’t help but feel oddly comforted more by the fact that Chris was here, and no one else, just him and her at last.

That whole day was spent doing a whole lot of nothing. They danced to Frank finally, once Chris coaxed (YN) out of her warm, inviting comforter that still called Chris to climb back in. He knew better, though, and (YN) needed to get up and move around, get her blood flowing again and her mind going back to a better place.

They watched only happy movies but still, they ended in (YN) weeping silently to herself, to which Chris would bring her to his chest and let her pour her grief onto his gray, already tear-stained soaked shirt. Oddly, he felt the need to stay longer when it was time to go.

He… no. No. He had a girlfriend, and besides (YN) was taken… and she was like…24? She was so young…but still, Chris couldn’t deny his heart’s wants and needs.

When it came time for Chris to leave in the evening, he closed her front door softly. Trying not to wake what he thought was an almost comatose (YN).

Chris felt his heart tied to the door like it was fighting all instinct to leave. He wanted to stay longer, comfort her in a more… loving way. Even as he drove off… Chris wondered whether this was just grieving, pity love. Or was this the feeling inside he’d always carried for her becoming stronger when he was watching her sorrow. That little twinge in his heart he’d always had when she was near when he smelled her hair in the air as she passed. Was this an ache that was his signal to go back?

Was this ache she had to go after him a signal to tell him? To tell him she wishes he held her longer last night. That he kissed her all over, instead of just the top of her head, or was this just an ache for somebody to love her. Someone who could hold her in the moment, and let her breath out the brutally painful grief that sat heavy in her lungs still. She wanted more, but he was always gone before she ever had the chance to summon up the courage.

Just like now; Chris was taken and swept away by a sweet woman. She was taken too, but not by the one she really wanted. (YN) whispered a breathless goodbye to herself. Listening to the record that still played on an endless loop as she saw Chris’s car pull away and take off into the traffic of another hectic Saturday evening, taking her broken, bleeding heart with him.

Feedback!!!!! It’s always helpful to hear lovelies!

A/N: I hope you liked it, idk my confidence on this one is goin’ down hill. I wanted more Chris out there and I get some fluffy Chris stuff out soon I promise.

Tagged: @boredoutofmymindstuff @iamimanim @hibaabdo @oneshots-imagines-and-that @neonwolf2020 @toc1985 @mculove1 @chrisevans-imagines @ptprocrastination @evansscruff@jamesgiuseppe @boston-boy-evans @writingcreatingstorytelling @username-evie @imaginingbucky @boredoutofmymindstuff@shamvictoria11 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @raveviolet @i-am-cass-1@tranquilsouls-riotousthoughts @myluvislikewow @nalatheshadequeen@not-your-cup-of-joe @musiccoffebook @nea90sweetie @jinxx-ed13 @j-jewel-l @ethereal-beaut-y @jemjemiansworld @hiddenavengers@itsteph13@rachael-othman@abigrumple @jasli123@jamesboobchananbarnes @emmucz @happelu970@amandulie @bisexualbuddhist @imaginesofdreams @teacoffeebooks@chrisevans-sexualfrustrations @stylesnbarnes@bsicthought@captainmqmeep @marrish-af @100acresofwood @missmotherhen@science-of-deduction-sh@sireanscall @crapythings @batmanbreeann@amyyleblanc1999 @coldeath@hhedegard @happelu970 @hollycornish@justanneforyou @ramiramblings@training-wolves@dracodormiensnunquamtitillandush @oneshots-imagines-and-that@coldplaylover17-blog @amandulie

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babsaros · 8 years ago

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I would like to submit to you personally a hospital!au :3c i know nothing about hospitals and i only did 3 seconds worth of research:

Shiro used to be a really amazing surgeon but then he lost his arm and now he’s a physical therapist Matt is a surgical technician and he and Shiro used to work a lot together

(Picture them laying in a bunk in an on-call room, trying to savor every second of peace and quiet together before they get paged back to work)

idk what event would take the place of alien kidnapping tho but ig Sam and Matt are still missing for whatever reason? pls help

Hunk, Pidge, Lance, and Keith are all med-students/interns/whatever the word is

Anyway, Pidge is following in Matts footsteps, they probably think guts r fun in theory but would rather stick to just helping rather than actually doing yanno?? Idk im v tired they would be a radiologist tbh

Lance would prob do well in pediatrics just bc he has a great bedside manner esp with kids but he’s aiming higher he wants to kick Keiths ass and be a great surgeon like Shiro

Hunk i feel would probably do really well in the ER too bc he’s good at following his gut and telling when ppl aren’t giving him the full story (WHY would you lie to your doctor dude???)

Lance studies his ass off trying to beat Keiths instinct but keith is shit at bedside manner and sometimes Lance can diagnose faster than him it’s been 30 years since i watched an episode of scrubs

lance is squeamish around his own blood

the cafeteria makes Hunk want to drop out

Zarkon is uhh idk a lawyer and he sues the hospital for malpractice literally everyday no matter what

Shay would be a pharmacy gal

Rolo and Nyma are the ppl that come in looking for free drugs

Coran is a clerk and every patient knows him bc he makes sure to introduce himself sooner or later bc he loves connecting with people and even though he’s not a doctor, Lance has chosen him as an unofficial mentor

I wanted to say Allura would be Dean of Medicine but like you need 15 years experience apparently sooo instead Alfor was Dean of Medicine and Allura is an anesthesiologist or medical examiner tbh

Hunk and Lance are roomies (honestly they are JD and Turk)

Lance gets scrubs with the really goofy patterns on them even though those are really for nurses Lance

good scenes that could take place:

Lance getting bummed out bc he messed up something big and might have killed someone accidentally if it wasn’t just a test, cue Keith finding Lance holed up in the on-call room and they have a really awkward heart-to heart in the dark

an outbreak of some super dangerous virus and Lance quarantines himself, he’s playing it off but on the other side of the glass everyone is super worried and horrified

Pidge gets a stuffed animal from a child patient and at first they are just super flustered and weirded out but by the end of the episode or whatever they’re teaching the kid how to use their pager and bringing the kid extra dessert and the stuffed animal is named Rover and Pidge keeps it in their locker always

one episode is just Hunk trying to get a refill prescription for a patient but there’s a bunch of problems and complications and it’s taking forever and he’s ready to go walk into traffic but he finally gets to the pharmacy and walks up to the counter and there’s Shay and they meet for the first time and Hunk stumbles all over the name of the drug he’s trying to get and she makes a joke about never seeing the sun bc she’s stuck behind the counter all day and they are in love.

The gang goes out for drinks (and bad karaoke) one night to celebrate something and then it starts raining and Keith ends up having to spend the night with Hunk and Lance (bc keith is living in a tiny hole in the wall apartment all the way across town) and they’re all very goofy and drunk and in the morning they are very grumpy and hungover and “wait keith is that my shirt” “why are you wearing my pants” “oh i was wondering why they were so tight” “fuck u”

Keith “how do you interact with normal people” kogane gets the task of delivering bad news to someone and he thinks he’ll be able to do it no biggie in and out of there right but he can’t and he feels so shitty and how can he tell this woman she’s a widow that’s awful but he forces himself to do it bc it’s just a job but he comes off way too apathetic and rude and she cries and gets upset and suddenly keith “i hate lance with every bone in my body and i can name them all” kogane is asking lance for help and he ends up having a rlly heartfelt convo with the widow and it’s rlly good character development

Allura finds her dad’s old journals and keeps them bc they have rlly good advice and accounts of almost every patient he ever treated and it’s almost like he’s still there with her

pls pls add on i have watched approximately 4 episodes of house i don’t know anything

#vld #voltron #au #hospital!au #matt holt #takashi shirogane #pidge gunderson #lance mcclain #keith kogane #hunk garrett #allura altea #coran #alfor #zarkon #headcanons #long post

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surveys-r-us · 5 years ago

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“run away with me”

I have a step or half-sibling. I have velvet pants. I have a t-shirt from a museum exhibit. I’ve been to Dunkin’ Donuts before. I’ve been on the subway. I usually get movies from the library. I’m scared of heights. I should be asleep right now. I have something that smells like mint. I have spare batteries. My speakers are off right now. My computer is in my bedroom. I only have one blanket on my bed. I own or have owned a teddy bear. I’ve memorized bohemian rhapsody. I’ve played Runescape. I like to make lists. I’ve listened to the Beach Boys.

I am very flexible. In bookstores, I walk around with my head tilted sideways. I’m wearing a hoodie. I know a lot of weird facts. I’ve watched Nightmare on Elm Street before. I know what pappillon means in English. Sufjan Stevens makes me happy. (lol his music depresses me. who possibly gets happy listening to him?) I wish my nose was smaller. I like to eat goldfish. I smile a lot. I use “however” instead of “but” when writing an essay. I’ve seen The Breakfast Club. I’ve had a burping contest with someone. And I won the contest. I like sharing books with my friends. I usually recognize the poets my English teacher talks about. (don’t have an English teacher anymore) A stranger has given me a high five for no reason. I’ve been to a Harry Potter book release party. I usually need to be reminded to eat. I have tiny hands. I like to look for shapes in the plaster on my ceiling. I prefer pencils to pens. I write on my hands when I need to remember something.

I’ve been to a roller skating rink. I own a piece of clothing that is rainbow patterned. I own a piece of clothing with skulls on it. I am extremely patient. I wish I could dance well. I’ve been to an ice skating rink. I have a lot of trouble falling asleep at night. I have a purse with flowers on it. I love to people watch. I’ve written an acrostic poem. I have bad posture. I’ve fallen asleep in class. I am very easily embarrassed. I liked to make up stories when I was a kid. Whenever I ride my bike, I’m tempted to start singing bicycle race. I take prescription creams/face washes/pills for acne. I drink milk daily. I’ve been told I act like I’m on drugs. I’ve been told I look like I’m on drugs. I have my hair up in a bun. I own something Beatles-related. I don’t use the caps lock key often. I have very strong opinions. I love to eat grinders. I don’t call long sandwiches grinders. Teachers have asked me if I’m depressed. More than once. I don’t care what you think of me. I have a toothache. Wonderwall is my “I like someone” song. There’s a book beside or on my bed. I hate innuendo. I really admire improvisational comedians. I don’t like gym class. I am going to do better this school year. I don’t use the word fag. Ever. I’ve been told I have a beautiful singing voice. I can read Shakespeare without translations. I adore English class. I know what the Kinsey scale is. I read more than one book at a time. I love places that sell dollar-a-cup coffee. The Magic School bus taught me a lot. I liked to dance on the kitchen table as a kid. I’ve lived with a relative for more than a year. I hate sharing a bed. I cried a lot as a kid. My friends have excellent taste in music. I know what I want to be when I grow up. Antidisestablishmentarianism! I like to drink coke zero. I watched Labyrinth only because David Bowie was in it. I bite my nails a lot. I’ve been to a music festival. I’ve gotten sunburn before. And it bled. I hate the noise vacuums make. I prefer showers to baths. Jeffree Starr is way overrated I don’t like my mouse pad. I love people who look classy. My nail polish is chipped. I’m going to read a book today. My mattress is on the floor. I am an insomniac. Cabaret punk is love. I have a DVD I want to watch. I’m a really picky eater. I take ibuprofen a lot. I tan very easily. The sun is shining right now. I love yellow Jell-O. I’ve made Popsicles with an ice cube tray, juice and toothpicks. And I called them ghetto pops. I’ve never met my neighbors. I’ve drawn on the street with chalk. I’ve been in a tree house. Tire swings are really fun. I love abandoned places. I have a plastic bag near me. I only watch TV when I’m really bored. I can’t wait to graduate. I’ve pulled an all-nighter so I would be really tired the next night. I really hate needles. I get along with my parents. I fall in love with songs that have beautiful lyrics. I listen to anti-folk. I have no idea what anti-folk is. I like to blow bubbles. I’ve won a hula hooping contest before. I’ve almost drowned. I’ve choked on something. I’ve taken a first aid course. One of my friends is in a different state right now. I’ve been to Chicago. I really like mohawks, but I would never get one. I am always warm. I have some weird eating habits. I like to spin in desk chairs. I have a beta fish. I have big lips. Tape is way better than glue. I like stickers. I’ve worn black jelly bracelets before. There is a type of music that I think is awful. My favorite girl from The Hills is Audrina. No, I prefer LC. I don’t have texting on my phone. I prefer New York to California. I’ve read all the Harry Potter books. Lord of the Rings too. I want to get a tattoo that has to do with a band. My family doesn’t eat dinner together. I’m worried that I won’t get into any college. I’m already in college! I own more than one flannel shirt. School is very important to me. I’d live on the beach if I could. Avocado is sooooo good. I can speak five languages fluently. One of my friends already has a kid. I drive everywhere. I hate when people say things aren’t art. I’m currently texting more than 3 people. My best friend wears the same size clothes as I do. I’ve only been in one serious relationship. One of my parents is gay. I rescued my pet from the animal shelter. I want to live in many different states when I’m older. I hardly ever go to the movies. I’ve liked one of my favorite bands for many years. I’m looking for a serious relationship right now. A lot of Starbucks are closing by my house. We don’t have H&M in my state. That’s my favorite store. I never order things online. I’m constantly listening to music. US History fascinates me Oranges are the best fruit. I have lactose intolerance. I always watch the National Spelling Bee on TV. I’m on a family plan. Parties aren’t my scene. I’ve lost many friends in my life and I’m okay with that. There are some friends I still wish I had. Fake nails look gross. I own an oyster card. (I don’t even live in the UK lmao) My birthday is in the fall. 2008 was a horrible year for me. Actually, it was the best. I’ve been on a cruise before. I like chemistry more than biology. I like taking surveys more than making them. I absolutely despise the color pink. I don’t have a significant other. I get all four seasons where I live. I only shop when I absolutely have the need to. I have an older brother. I have my driver’s license. I don’t want to have kids someday. I wear more jeans than skirts. I’d rather wear sneakers than high heels. I don’t go to church. I don’t like having my fringe in my face. I’m very much into heavy metal music. I own like, a hundred hoodies. I couldn’t draw to save my life. I’m a very good cook. I always have to look at the keyboard when I type. I’ve had surgery before. I don’t mind getting shots all that much. I’m not afraid of bugs. I love hot, hot weather! I have huge eyes and long lashes. I’m naturally very pale. I’m usually not very picky at all when it comes to food. My parents are divorced. I don’t like doing surveys, but I find myself doing them anyway. I’m addicted to Tumblr. I don’t have a Facebook account. I have perfect vision and don’t need glasses or contacts. I don’t wear makeup when I go out. I hate stores like Forever 21 I’m very much into sports. I don’t see what the big deal about photography is. Or fashion design. I don’t really appreciate art that much. Horror movies are my favorite. I don’t care if people cut in line in front of me. I don’t even remember the last time I put on a piece of jewelry. My hair is naturally straight. I support gay marriage. I have more friends online than I do in real life. My siblings are all older than I am. My significant other is younger than I am. I curse in almost every sentence I speak. I always get straight A’s in exams. I don’t know how to play any instrument. I only know how to speak one language. I don’t have my own personal blog. I’m allergic to something. I’ve been stung by a bee at least once in my life. This is the last survey I’m doing today. I have seen someone propose in public before. And they got rejected, poor bloke. I wonder if I will ever get proposed in public. Heck I don’t even know if I’ll ever get married. I know what a sake bomb is. I’ve tried it before. I’ve watched ‘Paris Hilton’s My New BFF’. ^ Ew, sad much? I think Paris Hilton is a brainless bitch. I celebrate Chinese New Year. I’m not Chinese or a tiny bit Asian at all. I have a step-sibling. I have a weak tolerance of alcohol. Are you kidding me? I can drink all night long! I want a new cell phone. I have my own bathroom. I sleep on a single bed. Nah, I have a King/Queen size bed! I think one night stands are no biggie. ^ Slut ^Prude I’ve been on a helicopter before. I’m actually afraid of heights. My date rented a limo to take me to prom. Pfft, I wish I had a date. I haven’t had my prom yet. I like clicking on advertisements. Pop-up ads are so old school. I recently took a bath. I never bother, I just take showers. My Christmas holidays were the bomb! Ugh, mine sucked like hell. I’d love to go to Japan one day. I’ve seen a ghost before. ^ I’d pee in my pants if I did. ^ No, I’d run and scream. I can write lyrics! I can, but I’m not very good at it. I would like to become a musician one day. I love finding things in sofa cracks. Black people can sing really well. So can Filipinos! Really, anyone with talent can do that. I know someone that’s trying very hard to fit in a stereotype. Every cup of water I drink equals to a trip to the toilet. I recently received my exam results. They were quite good! Nope, failed it all. It’s my boyfriend’s birthday today. He never gives me gifts. He buries me with them. I wish I had a boyfriend that actually spends money on me! I love him very much. The Beatles rock my world. Actually, a lot of classic rock bands rock my world. It takes me a really long while to get to sleep. I’m a personality quiz fiend. I am and have always been a night owl. I love reading Sarah Dessen books. My earphones are in my ears practically 24/7. I am an only child and that’s not because of any death. I hate school and everything else connected to it. I’ve never been in any romantic relationship. I have a lot of favorite names. And I plan to use those names on my kids. I’m reading a comic book right now. I’m listening to music right now. I memorize lyrics really easily. But memorizing stuff for school isn’t easy at all. Math is my worst enemy. I love bolding surveys. Nice and easy. I pick Guitar Hero over Rock Band. I’m afraid of heights. And spiders. Actually any disgusting insect. I really don’t mind being all alone. I talk to myself. My favorite animal: zebras. I know that there’s such a thing as a Supersaurus. Dinosaurs fascinate me. English class is love. I know how to make layouts. But I’m way too lazy.

#this is the most 2009 survey i've ever taken lmao

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jackfollmanwriter-blog · 7 years ago

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Frat House

Part I

It’s the sorority houses that are supposed to be haunted, not the fraternity houses. Regardless of stereotype, the Theta Chi house in Morgantown, West Virginia was haunted as shit. I found this out one when I lived a college boy’s cloudy dream that slipped into sweaty nightmare on the hot nights of my twenty-first summer.

May 14, 2007

I was the envy of every single one of my friends once they heard about the situation I lucked into heading into my senior year at West Virginia University. My dad’s construction company was going to be remodeling the Theta Chi fraternity house during the summer months when almost all of the school’s students fled back home for the summer and he worked into the deal that I would get to live in the house by myself while the work was being done.

I was not in a fraternity and I could tell that it bothered the last of the gang of Thetas as they packed up to head back to their out-of-state suburban parents’ homes and suck at the teat of mom and dad for a few months. The last few departing frat guys would barely even make eye contact with me when I carried my shit into their main lounge and set up my bed in front of a huge window that overlooked campus.

I could practically still hear the frat boys’ footsteps walking away from the building when I cracked my first beer on my inaugural night in the house. I pounded the first can while I stood in the setting sunlight the expansive window in front of my bed ushered in and thought about everyone I was going to invite over for an opening night party.

May 15, 2007

I woke up with a pounding bladder, stomach and head with the lights of downtown Morgantown twinkling off in the distance from my window. The alcohol had started to wear off. I glanced at my phone and a displayed time of 4:30 a.m. confirmed my suspicions, this was usually when I woke up already a bit hung over for a long beer piss on drinking nights.

My middle of the night beer piss wouldn’t be as easy as it used to be. The nearest bathroom in the house was on the second floor, a good walk away from where my bed was, especially in the cavernous darkness of the old house. But I had to go. The 12 Coors Lights pleading to be let out of the prison of my urethra left me no choice. I took to the stairs that led up to the bathroom naked and weary with the camera light on my phone combing through the black of the night.

I had barely explored the house yet, but the entire thing reminded me of the schools, YMCAs and churches I had spent time in throughout my life. Cold, drafty and dusty, the entire place was linoleum-floored and perpetually hummed with the rumbling purr of heavy air conditioning.

The stinging smell of chlorine started to waft at me from the bathroom that was now just down the slippery hallway from me once I topped the stairs and got to the second floor. The soft light of the bathroom called to me like a fire to a moth and I looked longingly at the siren that was the relief of my aching bladder. I clicked off the camera light on my phone and surfed along the slick linoleum in my socks until I reached the glittering haven of the bathroom.

There is a true freedom to standing completely naked amongst a line of eight urinals in an empty bathroom and relieving yourself. I let out an audible, throaty groan as I finished up.

At first I thought what I heard was the sound of my disgusting grunt echoing in the expansive guts of the house, but those assumptions were tossed out the window when I heard the sound relay a second time from out in the hallway. A swift shiver trickled up my spine and rested at the back of my neck when I heard the sound maintain its volume.

Holding my junk and my phone awkwardly in my hand, I tip toed out of the light of the bathroom and into the darkened hallway. One of the last remaining frat guys had tried to explain to me how to work the lighting situation in the house, but it went over my head and I didn’t want to admit it at the time, so I had been living in the dark the entire first day and night there other than for the few rooms which had automatic lighting like the bathroom, kitchen and dining hall.

The sound whimpered out again and now I could tell it was coming from the opposite end of the hallway from where I had walked up to the floor, near the dead end wall where a line of small dorm style rooms flanked the hallway. I couldn’t really make out what the sound exactly was, but from my distant vantage it sounded like a high-pitched yipping.

“Hello,” I called to the end of the hallway in an attempt at an intimidating tone.

I flipped my phone out in front of me and hit the camera light on to give me some illumination as I walked towards the end of the hallway slowly. The doors of the dorm rooms started to box me in as I made my way towards the sound. I had been told that all of the dorm rooms had been locked, but I couldn’t help but feel horribly vulnerable when I walked naked by them, waiting for something to burst out.

But nothing did. I found myself sweating and relieved at the end of the hallway.

That relief evaporated when I heard the sound kick up, from just across the other side of the wall at the end of the hallway.

It was a cry. The unmistakable whine of a dog. It squealed a few times while I stood there with my ear to the wall to confirm what I was hearing.

A tour of the place my dad had given me a week ago let me know that a maintenance area of the building was on the other side of that wall. A dog had must have wandered in there and gotten locked in. I headed back to the soft comfort of bed, prepared to call my dad in a couple of hours and let him know that a dog is stuck in the maintenance room.

May 18, 2007

Watching Gavin roll his Midnight Special tobacco up into his rolling papers caused me physical pain.

“You know you can go into any store and they sell those things already rolled up for you?” I asked snidely.

Gavin took a second to respond, his mouth occupied with licking the paper shut.

“I’m not putting that mass-produced chemical garbage in my mouth,” Gavin fired back in disgust.

Gavin was my school-assigned alcohol counselor. A pseudo hippy with a long gray pony tail at the back of his nearly bald scalp, he was born just a little too late to truly be part of the flower child generation and instead spent his formative years dousing his insides with vodka and working in record shops before they all closed down and he turned his midlife-formed sobriety into a career as a drug and alcohol counselor.

“Because you want to make sure you are making healthy choices when you are putting cigarette smoke into your body,” I shot back. “You probably used to smoke some American Spirit bullshit before you started rolling like a complete poser.

Gavin’s lack of a response confirmed my suspicions.

I loved and hated Gavin at the same time. He was such a ridiculous wanna be hippy with good intentions that he was hard to hate, but at the same time he was an utter blowhard and whiner who loved to drone on about his past, frequently shared Upworthy videos and I only saw him because I legally had to. The reason for me being pointed in Gavin’s direction was no biggie, I just got drunk and crashed my truck into the drive-thru window of a McDonalds when I passed out waiting for two cheeseburgers.

Because of this, I had to go to Gavin’s fern-filled office every Thursday afternoon and talk about my addiction issues while fighting the urge to inform him his sweat smelled like chili cheese Fritos and was so awful it almost burned my fucking eyes.

“But you mentioned something about not sleeping well in the house?” Gavin asked after a long drag of hand-rolled tobacco.

“Yeah, not really, it’s not a big deal though, I think I’m just not used to sleeping in such a big drafty place,” I said, neglecting the fact that I was getting hammer drunk every night since I moved in likely played a role in my sleep difficulties.

“Oh-but-it-is,” Gavin ripped off the words, deathly serious. “Sleep is everything. You said something about a dog barking?”

I really regretted mentioning the dog incident. I only mentioned it because Gavin was putting the screws into me about looking so tired and disheveled. The truth was I was out of it because I had hosted booze-fueled parties every night since I moved into the house, but I obviously couldn’t tell him that. So I pinned my tired eyes, yawns and greasy hair on the dog in the maintenance wing.

“There has been a dog every night since I moved in getting trapped in a maintenance room in the house. It barks and cries, but when my dad and his crew show up in the morning it takes off,” I explained dismissively, leaving out the part where there were no openings in the room for the dog to get in and out of and how that mystery was playing a part in me struggling to sleep every night.

May 19, 2007

The barking woke me up earlier than usual. The mournful yipping and yowling pried my eyes open around 3 a.m. this time. I woke up in a sweat on top of my covers still dressed in the uncomfortable outfit I had worn to try and impress the girls who never actually showed up to the mini-party that had wrapped up a couple of hours ago. When I moved into my own personal frat house I had visions of every night winding down into a Playboy Mansion-style orgy, but every night so far came to a close with a bunch of guys singing “Nothing Else Matters” around the fire pit.

The jangling opening notes of the song were ringing in my head when I got out of bed and trudged up the stairs to the bathroom too drunk and groggy to be unnerved by the mysterious Hound of Baskerville that was playing its disappearing act in the maintenance room again.

“Shut the fuck up,” I called out through the fog of a nearly-crippling headache before I fully ascended the stairs.

I shoved my next planned words back into my throat when I reached the top of the stairs.

Waiting for me at the palely-lit entrance of the bathroom was a German Sheppard - it’s bushy coat furrowed and agitated to a raise on its back, it’s lips curled back grotesquely as if they were being pulled back by a dentist’s speculum, it’s yellow eyes shimmering in the darkness of the hallway, dead set on me. The dog’s painful howls had been replaced, by a low, rolling growl that sounded like the menacing purr of an idling Harley sitting outside of a blue collar bar.

At first glance, I thought it was just a random dog, but a few frames of vision provided me with an unmistakable identification. Jutting raggedly from tip of the dog’s cold, wet, black nose was thick cake of a trail of scar tissue that meandered back up the dog’s face and curved around one of its eyes and spiraled round and round just above its eye like a deflated noise maker you would get from a child’s party.

I was there when the dog got that scar.

August 27, 1991

I wasn’t supposed to play in the cabins at the back of our property, but there was no way any red-blooded boy of my generation was going to be able to resist playing cowboys and Indians in a cluster of cabins connected by a boardwalk of rotted wood that looks like they were stolen from a John Wayne movie set. I spent my first summer break sneaking all around the outside of the cabins crafting childish storylines in my head and playing characters.

My dad had tried to scare me away from the rustic playground with a bit of a rural legend. He told me that the cabins had been part of a mining camp in the 1800s, but were abandoned decades ago after one of the miners, Mountaineer Jim, had gone crazy and murdered everyone there with a pick axe. He claimed that the ghost of Jim still haunted those cabins and that if you listened closely at night you could sometimes hear his pick axe beating against the rocks in the wood behind the cabins.

Even at the age of six, I was skeptical of my dad’s story and figured that as long as I only played there during the day, I should be fine. Ghosts were allergic to the light of the sun, I was sure of it.

My belief in that theory would vanish on this sunny August day as I tried to wrap up my imaginary heroic story line in one of my last days of freedom before I had to head back to school.

I was in the middle of a gunfight in my head between two steely desperados on the porch of the biggest cabin when I noticed the rickety wooden door of place slightly ajar. All of the doors, were supposed to be locked, I had never seen one open. My little heart stuttered when I saw the door sitting there, drifting just a little bit in the wind and it clenched when I felt hands upon my back.

I escaped my assailant’s loose grip with a whirl, turned around with a scream and locked eyes with a decrepit man covered in gray hair who scowled at me with a mouth splashed with a sloppy pinch of Copenhagen.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the old man hollered.

I was so shocked and disgusted by the old man’s face that I hadn’t noticed that he had a thick hunting knife poised for slicing clasped at his waist. I fell over backwards once I laid eyes on the thing and left myself helpless as the slobbering old man towered over me.

I smashed my eyes close, waiting for the worst, but threw them open when I heard a frothing sound, felt a heavy tumble on the boardwalk next to me and heard the painful cries of the old man replace his vulgar threats. What I saw was my German Sheppard, Shotzee, ravaging the old man with a furious combination of bites, growls and scratches.

I cheered Shotzee in my head and scrambled to my feet, eternally grateful for her defense, especially when I saw the old man’s hunting knife swiftly slash the brave dog across her face just before I ran away back to my house.

August 28, 1991

I was horrified when my dad pulled me out of bed a little bit after midnight before the first day of school. My mom had scolded me just a few hours before for drinking a Pepsi that’s caffeine could keep me up past my bedtime and make me tired on such an important morning.

My dad put a silencing finger to his lips before he pulled me out of bed and we tip toed out the backdoor of our house and into the dark of the night. Even at that young of an age, I knew not to even question my dad, especially when I saw the presence of a red can of Schmidt wrapped up in his palm as we crossed the backyard and headed towards the stale blackness of the woods behind our house.

An unmistakable cry cracked through the still of the chilly late-summer night out in the woods. We seemed to follow the sound as it whirred like a police siren until we were surrounded by the swaying trees of the forest and stood in front of Shotzee who was tied to tree, head bowed, snout still bleeding, eyes welled.

“No,” I shouted at my dad for the first time in my life when I saw his hand drift over to a shotgun that had been propped up against the base of a tree.

I tried to stop him with my body, but there was zero chance, I ended up just harmlessly clinging to his legs as he went on.

“There is an order in the world that needs to be upheld. A dog cannot bite a man without consequence.”

The last thing I heard before my dad did something that permanently cemented him as a dark figure in my brain and heart was a cry that I wouldn’t hear again for nearly 16 years.

May 20, 2007

“It’s funny how the brain works. That story took 20 minutes for me to tell you through my mouth, but it flashed through my head in less than a second last night when I saw Shotzeeand as soon as I called out her name she vanished before my eyes. I was back in the house by myself.”

Gavin looked down his nose at me through his glasses. He sat forward in his squeaky chair and then let out a deep exhale that I felt from across his desk. I swear Gavin saw a few movies or TV shows with psychiatrists in them and crafted his own persona around it.

His eyes swept whimsically around the room before he slapped his hands together and slowly stated one word.

“Totems.”

I let it absorb for a moment before getting up out of my chair.

“Seriously Gavin, I stayed here longer than I had to because I like that you were going to give me some real counseling on this shit, not that heavy bullshit that you usually scoop onto the alcohol counseling.”

Gavin shot up from his chair.

“Oh, but I couldn’t be more heartfelt about this. I know the word totem is something that you associate with Native Americans which is something you probably have your long list of ‘shit Gavin talks about that you tune out’ but I could not be more serious.”

The honesty dripping in Gavin’s tone held me at the back of the door of his office. I would hear him out.

“I truly believe that you encountered a totem for something that triggered this vision. Something that you saw, you may not even realize it and it fired up the section of your brain where these memories are stored. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I believe in the power of the mind.”

May 21, 2007

Another night of beers, guys and unfulfilled desires where I ended up standing in the front doorway of the house somberly saying goodbye to my friends, secretly wishing they had crashed at my place so I wouldn’t be left alone with the ghastly feeling that weaved me in. I felt a heavy presence wash over me once I closed the heavy double door behind my friends and returned to the drafty near silence of the frat house.

At least the three-fourths of a fifth of Wild Turkey that I had coursing through my veins was doing its work, coaxing me into a boozy sleep.

It seemed once I placed my head down upon my pillow, I was asleep.

*****

I awoke to the vibration of my phone tickling my thigh in my pocket. My college-aged male senses twitched just like the phone knowing all too well what a text in the middle of the night meant.

I didn’t have the number saved in my phone, but the text couldn’t have been more ideal.

U up?

I could not have replied any faster.

Yeah. You know where I am staying?

This was a delicate game. I had no idea who this was, but I didn’t want to ask or tip that off in any way, knowing that even the slightest misstep could put me back where I started, sleeping alone.

Theta Chi?

My heart started picking up in pace like the score to a thrilling movie. My fingers flew across the screen of my phone.

Come over.

*****

I couldn’t believe that I had blown it when I woke up. I laid down for just a second while I waited for my mystery partner to arrive and must have fallen asleep.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” I cried out and scrambled for my phone that was resting on the bed next to me.

I was a little bit surprised to see that I had not received any more texts during my snooze and it looked like I had only been out for about 20 minutes.

Maybe all was not lost.

I fired off a text to the mystery number as fast as I could.

You still coming over?

The number replied almost immediately.

I’m here. You weren’t up. I crashed in the lobby.

Without hesitation, I took off out of the room towards the lobby which was just a small hallway away from the lounge that served as my bedroom.

I stormed into the hallway, but lightened my pace once I was greeted by the sounds of muffled sobs.

I stopped myself just before the edge of where the lobby bled into the hallway and peeked around the corner.

I could see the producer of the tears from my vantage point. She was young, probably not yet college-aged and I didn’t recognize her but was unnerved by her presence. She was far too young to be the girl I had been talking to and she was far too distraught to be anything but bad news. Fuck, I could have sworn that I locked the front door when I said goodbye to my friends and headed to bed. How the hell did she get in?

The cries pitched up an octave and I threw my body back into the hallway when I saw the girl’s head of brown hair turn in my direction. I felt her eyes glimmer on me for a second just before I slipped into the safety of the dark hallway.

My heart raced when I heard soft footsteps flutter in my direction. I fought my fears though and held my position just inside the doorway, until…

I saw drops of blood start to drip upon the marble floor just outside the doorway. A slashed and pale arm wrapped itself around the side of the door and reached for me.

I screamed with the highest pitch I have ever heard my body emit, sprinted naked out of the hallway and tore up the stairs that led to the floor with the bathroom. Running to the only light on the floor, I slipped into the room that was covered from top to bottom in moist tile and threw myself into a stall so I could catch my breath.

What the fuck was that? My brain asked itself before being interrupted the slap of a bare feet entering the bathroom halted my train of thought.

I slipped my feet up onto the toilet seat and squatted while cursing myself for my moronic decision to run into the bathroom and lock myself in. The footsteps clumsily staggered around the bathroom aimlessly. I couldn’t see anything on the floor from my vantage point, but I started to focus my gaze out of the crack of the door on the right side and peer out into the hollow yellow light of the sink area.

I watched a figure step into my field of vision and stop just in front of the stall. My vision was distracted by the sound of tiny drips on the floor and I looked down to see deep red drops of blood collecting like flakes of snow on the floor just in front of the pale green door.

My eyes raced back to the crack of the door and I saw a clear reflection in the bathroom mirror of who was just outside of the stall. It was no longer a girl in her mid-teens, it was a girl who couldn’t have been much older than five, her hair frizzy and messed, her eyes a piercing green, I recognized her even before we locked eyes. It had been nearly 15 years since I had seen those eyes, that scared face, that frizzy mess of hair.

All these characteristics were already imprinted on me because they belonged to my sister Sara.

July 12, 1995

The first 42 days of summer vacation had been nothing but telling my sister that there was no way we would ever go out to the cabins at the edge of our property. I deeply regretted telling her about my attack at the cabins on the bus ride home on the last day of school after she asked for about the hundredth time about why we weren’t allowed to play any further away from the house than the immediate back yard. I thought telling her the story would chill her to the bone enough to where she would never even consider asking again or going out there.

I was wrong.

A plucky five-year-old fresh off a year of kindergarten, my sister Sara was one of those little kids that seemed to be wise and curious beyond their years. She already had an incredible knack for sniffing out the perpetual bullshit that adults and older kids feed little kids to get them to quit talking, but that knack would fail her in the summer of 1995.

I still remember the unseasonably cold darkness of that summer night as if it was yesterday. I sat in the living room pretending to watch cartoons, but I was really paying attention to the perpetual flood of adults that were coming in and out of the house, holding flashlights, lightly flecked with summer rain and carrying heavy looks of concern on their faces.

Judging by the number of hugs the other adults where laying upon my dad and the length of time it had been since I had last seen Sara, even my nine-year-old brain could do the math about what was going on. My brain created the image of Sara’s little footprints crunched into the tall grass that led to the rickety cabins that were tucked up against the edge of the dark forest.

I pictured her innocently walking up onto the boardwalk of the cabins, playing wild west the way that I would, lost in the euphoric imagination of a whimsical setting. I pictured one of those cabin doors opening. I pictured the old man tearing out. I pictured the knife. I pictured things that I had seen on the video tapes of R rated movies that I had watched at friends’ house while their parents weren’t home.

I pissed myself watching Nickelodeon.

I was cleaning myself in the bathroom when I heard the screams through the open window that looked to the backyard that would haunt me for years. Looking like the horde that chased down Frankenstein, I saw the adult group maraud through the backyard and toward my house with lanterns, and flashlights cutting into the night.

Sprawled out and motionless in the sinewy arms of my dad, I saw the source of the group’s hysteria… my sisters body, splashed with blood, head rolled back in slack, face pointed toward the cold glow of a full moon that tanned the grass of the backyard in yellow gold. The next time I would see her body would be in the numbing fluorescent light of the Theta Chi bathroom.

May 21, 2007

I jumped up from my seat on the toilet with a jolt when the stall door started to rattle, a force on the other side fighting against the little metal swivel of a lock, shaking the entire row of stalls. My jaw quivered, tears started to well in the corners of my eyes, I felt cold, urged to vomit.

“S-a-r-a,” the one syllable word dribbled out of my mouth as if it was an entire sentence.

I was answered by a slight breeze that swooshed down into the stall and forced me into a spastic shiver.

“Sara,” I called out again sheepishly.

No answer.

I stuck my head out to get a better look at the crack, but halted when I felt an itchy tickle on my shoulder. I felt the itch crawl over to the back of my neck and jumped up with a scream.

I turned around in a flash to see the hideous form a jet black spider scurry across the toilet and tuck itself underneath the pearly white of the seat. The sight of a real life terror shocked me back into the real world. I ripped a wad of toilet paper, smashed the spider into a mess of loose legs and abdomen splatter in one quick motion and flushed the toilet.

I watched the little crumple of toilet paper and bug splatter spin helplessly into the dark hole at the bottom of the toilet.

Part II

May 22, 2007

“It’s funny for so many men the fear of admitting that you are afraid is actually worse than the fear of the real terror of the world,” Gavin said as he rolled an earthy booger between his fingers and reclined back in his chair.

“Seeing my bleeding, dead, fucking little sister isn’t funny to me though,” I spat back with a steely glare wiped upon my face. “

“The waltz of the masculine male is such a difficult dance, why do we even still try?” Gavin asked stoically.

I questioned the absurdity of a guy using the word “we” in that sentence when he had a ponytail so long that it flirted with his ass and was so juvenile that he had spent the past 10 minutes pretending to itch his nose when he was really just picking it.

“Have you given any thought to what I told you last time?” Gavin asked.

“That Indian shit?” I replied snidely before I reminded myself that Gavin was seeing me unscheduled without payment and I softened up. “Totem poles, or something?” I polished the cynicism off of my second sentence and let my eyes linger on the baby blue dream catcher that hung in his office window.

“Totems,” Gavin said with a little less grandiosity than usual, trying to get me to take him a little more seriously despite the lingering odor of Nag Champa seeping out of his desk.

“I remember.”

“I definitely think there is a totem at play here,” Gavin said with widened eyes that revealed the spider webs of bloodshot that dominated his eyes.

I wasn’t 100 percent on board yet, but I didn’t say anything to let Gavin know it was okay to go on with whatever theory he was prepared to present.

“There is something in that house that triggered these memories and images. You don’t even know that you have seen it, but you have and it has latched onto your brain like a lamprey. It’s like that old horror movie adage, ‘houses aren’t haunted, people are,’ but it’s true. Your brain is haunted, not Tappa Tappa Kegga house. Your brain creates these ghosts, but it doesn’t make them any less scary, or important, and only you can wash them out of your brain. The only way you can do that is be first identifying what planted them in your brain in the first place.”

Gavin interrupted himself by opening a drawer in his desk. He took a half-eaten wrapped up chocolate bar of mysterious brand and slid it across the table with a wink as if he was a mob boss offering me a bribe.

“Eat this, it will ease the nerves, then go back there and do a thorough search of that house to try and figure out what the hell in that place might have set this off. It’s the only thing you can really do.”

***

Gavin’s chocolate bar tasted like bitter shit. I have eaten my fair share of edibles and the taste was usually awful, but Gavin’s magic chocolate took it to a new level. It was probably some kind of fair trade weed chocolate or some bullshit that Gavin picked up at the Whole Foods version of a drug dealer.

The shit did its job though when I started tearing through the Theta Chi house, inspecting just about every inch of the place for something that could have infected my brain with a ghoulish parasite. I got that hyper kick of shaky adrenaline just as I was ripping through a dusty trophy case filled with plastic awards handed out for various drinking accomplishments.

That tingly high would linger for a couple of hours due to the generous amount Gavin had slid over to me. I had just about made my way around the entire house by the time I began to feel the cold dead hands of sobriety wrap around my neck. The melting of my high had made me tired though as I combed through a collection of old porn magazines stacked neatly in the corner of the top-story lounge which housed an old piano littered with dead keys and a filthy pool table with no balls.

The slow malaise of the weed mixed with the nausea brought on by the beers I had foolishly swigged while doing my search were taking their toll. The room started to tilt in my field of vision, just a little bit making me feel like a kid who had just run in circles to give themselves the spins for fun.

I had to lie down or I might vomit. I staggered over to a filthy couch that was probably well marinated with rotten beer and semen, but I didn’t care, I collapsed onto the haggard thing and closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning.

Fucking Gavin.

May 23, 2007

I awoke to the sounds of broken piano keys, their muted tones waking me up when they sent waves of hollow melodic vibrations through the room. I sat up in a sobering fog and was greeted by cold darkness all around me and the fading tone of the piano.

I felt a presence in the room, heard a shuffling over by the door where I walked in, heard an low human groan cut through the black that was all around me. My eyes started to adjust to the darkness, but I still couldn’t see anyone else in the room, just the motionless bookshelves figures of the room – tables, chairs, rows of books and cliché college bro posters barely illuminated by my tired eyes.

The numb melody of the piano leaked into the air again and I stumbled to my feet. I pried my phone out of my pocket before I made any more moves and pushed the flashlight on, casting a bright beacon out in front of me towards the piano.

Nothing there. Just a hanging mist of dust that swirled in the powerful light of the phone.

I slowly walked away from the couch and towards the piano and door, my footsteps clapping against the hard tile of the floor easily allowing any presence that wanted to track me to keep a close watch. I made it to the door unscathed, but just the groan returned once the palm of my hand met the cold hard metal of the door handle.

I turned around and the light of my phone beamed upon a gaunt grey figure. Grotesquely pale, the figure’s complexion was that of old uncooked chicken, bathed in a litter of billowy silver body hair that washed his chest in a shimmering coat of follicles and led up to a scraggily beard which hung from a sunken face of mean green eyes and a bald scalp littered with liver spots. Just looking at the thing made me want to barf and not just because of the hideous nature of the being, but because I knew this person… it was the old man who had attacked me all those years ago at the cabins on my dad’s property.

I didn’t even notice the sharp knife clutched in the old man’s hand until it slashed through the air and nearly skimmed my nose. Just like I had all those years before out by the cabins, I sprinted away from the old man, racing down the slick linoleum of the hallway until I came to a horrible realization.

Falling asleep in the top story lounge was a horrible idea. The room was essentially a hidden secret in the house, accessible only by an unmarked closet in the back of one of the dorm rooms on the third floor that led to a small staircase. I always heard guys in the frat talking about it on campus, about how they would leave girls up there and it would take them hours to find their ways back because the only way back down was to remember which of the many rooms that lined the hallway outside of the lounge contained the staircase that led back down to the third floor.

The hallway stretched out in front of me felt like something out of an Escher painting – rows of six unmarked, wooden doors taunted the memory the high the weed had wiped clean. I was going to have to open those doors until I found the one that contained the staircase that descended into the third floor, and I was going to have to do it with the darkest figure of my past slashing behind me.

With a little space between me and the old man who staggered forward at a thankfully slow pace, I attacked the first door to my right.

Cool, blue light washed over me once I opened door and it felt as if I was sucked into another existence. I was no longer standing in the dusty hallway in the Theta Chi house with the knife-wielding old man behind me. I was in the door of a hospital room, the steady beep of a heart rate machine serving as a discomforting metronome.

I had been here before. I instantly recognized the chlorine smell of the room, the feeling of the moisture upon my skin that seeped in through the windows on the rainy day, the sound of the heart rate monitor, and most of all, I felt a painful ache of childish confusion in my stomach that instantly turned to crippling sorrow when I saw my mother’s tired face turn to me from the hospital bed.

“Zach… she whispered from the bed, repeating the script of her last word to me when I last saw her in her hospital bed when I was just four years old.

I crashed my way out of the room.

I was back in the hallway, the old man growling just to my left. I dodged the old man’s weak slash and plunged into the door that was across the hallway from the first.

I was greeted by a chorus of crickets once inside the room. The frat house ceiling had turned into a canvas of twinkling stars and walls were now a dark thicket of trees splashed with moonlight.

A new fear had been planted in my heart.

In a flash, the source of my newfound fear was right in front of me, stalking towards me up a muddy path that cut through the knee-high foliage of the woods was Sidney Grass. The older brother of my friend, Howard, Sidney was a developing sociopath who would terrorize us whenever he had the chance. He loved nothing more than to cut off the heads of cottonmouths and chase us around with them.

Sidney had somehow stepped up his game from poisonous snakes this summer night though. He woke up Howard and I in the middle of the night with his dad’s shotgun jammed in our groggy faces. He chased us out into the backyard in our pajamas and then further out into the woods where Howard and I tried to hide while we heard Sidney comb through the woods, hooting and hollering.

I knew exactly what was going to happen next when Sidney flashed his pearly whites at me in the night and raised the shotgun up to my eyes. I was not going to wait for him to pull the trigger and have it click empty this time and then watch him laugh and punch me in the chin.

I rushed back out the door and returned to the stale hallway.

The old man was there waiting for me. I felt the hot piercing of his wielded knife strike across the hard bone of my kneecap and I erupted with a scream. Like a running back escaping an undisciplined attacked, I spun out of the old man’s ambush and rushed into the first door I could get to with my knee weeping hot blood.

A chucked bottle of Old Crow whizzed by my head and smashed into a hundred little pieces of glasses when it hit a wall right behind my head. I stood with wobbly legs staring at my beaten and bloody dad who stood in just his white briefs that were now stained red and fumed in front of a broken TV. Based on the fact that he looked like he had been run through a meat tenderizer, he had gotten his ass kicked again down at Gil’s Tavern again and based on the fact that the next thing he winged at my little head was my Joe Montana plaque, I was probably 11-years-old.

Once the setting started to sink in, I found my footing and realized that I needed to get moving or I was going to get belted across the face with a copy of Easyriders magazine, I inhaled the smell of alcohol soaked mildew and turned myself around to escape the hurls of my dad.

“You run away like a coward. Like you ran away from your sister,” my dad yelled with a swollen mouth that made it sound like he had a southern drawl that he actually didn’t.

I didn’t try to decode his comment, I just took off for the hallway where I knew the safe haven of my sister’s room still remained almost untouched since the day she passed. I ran down the hallway that was lined with a coat of flimsy fake mahogany and led to the bedrooms of the trailer. The hallway shook as I sprinted down its dirty carpet and the shadow of my dad started stalking me from behind. The smoked and faded portraits of our family cracked and fell from their perilous perch on the walls and started breaking at my feet, sending shards of glass nipping at my ankles.

My dad’s Romeo-booted feet were gaining on me, but the stray ink marks of colorful markers and half-peeled away Care Bear stickers that marked the door to my sister’s old room were within arm’s reach and I burst through into the room before my dad could get a finger on me.

I was back in the frat house hallway with the old man who at least was a few yards away from me. I was far enough away to avoid the slashing of his knife, but I could now hear him speak. His voice was familiar for a reason that I could not put my finger on. Listening to him was like hearing a song that you recognized in a movie, but couldn’t remember from where you knew it.

“Zach,” the old man gasped from cracked lips that looked like the shed skin of a snake.

I locked eyes with the fossilized man for the briefest of moments before he charged and I took shelter in the next-closest door.

The setting the door tossed me into was not nearly as instantly upsetting as the other ones. I was now in Gavin’s office with my nose tickling with the scent of incense. The only thing that was actually upsetting was the smug look plastered upon Gavin’s wrinkled face as he leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped and index fingers pushed into a point.

“You might think your fears are unique, but they are just like everyone else’s,” Gavin philosophized. “What if you are all wrong and they are all right? What if you are a bad person? You can’t escape the prison that is your own mind no matter how hard you try. There is no way out. You are trapped and if something goes wrong in there, there is nowhere else to go.”

This was the first scene I had been thrown into that I didn’t distinctly remember already happening. Maybe it was because I tuned out Gavin’s bullshit at the time he said or maybe we smoked out before the session, but I didn’t remember this at all.

“I get a sense that a lot has gone wrong in that head of yours Zach. And I get a sense that you have run from all of it. You don’t confront your demons. You look the other way when they pass you by, like an awkward old friend that you bump into at the mall. You act like you don’t see them, hoping that they will act like they won’t see you. You drown them with alcohol in hopes that when you do encounter them you will be numbed enough to take the edge off, or to soften their horns, but when you and them sober up the same problems are still there and your head aches. But, what are you going to do when you have so many dark spots crawling around your head that you have nowhere to look but the black? You run from one demon only to always find yourself dashing into the cold embrace of another.”

I didn’t have an answer for Gavin. I let him go on. He leaned across his desk with his grimy teeth giving off a rotten smell that made me stop breathing.

“That’s when you have no choice but to face the demon.”

Without a word, I got up and walked out of Gavin’s office.

The Theta Chi hallways seemed a little bit lighter when I returned. Maybe the sun was beginning to rise outside?

I thought about trying one of the few remaining unexplored doors for a moment, but was lured back towards the doorway that led to the fourth-floor lounge by a faint wail.

I followed the little cries back to the room that I first woke up in.

The sun was starting to rise. Out the windows that glimpsed out to the eastern horizon, the slightest tease of a yolky yellow sun was creeping up into view, just slightly brightening the hue of the lounge.

As I expected, the old man was waiting for me in there, looking a tiny bit pinker in the hints of sunlight. I stood cold and still for a few moments until he noticed me and his wails picked up into shrieks.

The old man lowered his bald head and charged me yet again, but I waited this time, my fingers wiggling in anticipation of having to slap the knife away.

We collided with a force heavier than I anticipated his age-riddled body delivering and tumbled to the floor. I was able to get a firm grasp upon his wrist that was holding the knife, but it was far from steady as we slipped around upon the hard floor and crashed into the wall.

Our smash into the wall sent numerous framed pictures that were hung from the wall above our heads crashing down upon us. I knew that the pictures were framed group pictures of every West Virginia Theta Chi pledge class since the late 1800s even before one fell square on the back of the head of the old man.

Suddenly the fight was over. The man was lying motionless with all his cold weight upon me. The knife fell out of his grasp and skittered harmlessly onto the floor.

I looked down upon the heavy framed picture that had knocked him out with love, almost feeling like I wanted to hug it. I stared at the thing for a few moments – the pledge class of 1940. I studied the faces of the 10 or so young men frozen in black and white time, looking like a classic photo of some Al Capone-era gangsters as they stood around an unlit fireplace.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of the picture of the young man in the top left – mustached, wild eyed and capped with a plume of slicked-back hair, his face was far, far younger than how I recognized it know, but it was unmistakable - it belonged to the deflated mass of grey human that was lying upon me. My eyes raced to the name index of the picture and laying my eyes upon the name of the slick-haired young man made so many things make so much sense – George Holverson, a name I had heard before, a name that belonged to my grandpa.

May 29, 2007

“People didn’t really have an understanding for mental health back then, especially men. Mental illness was treated either like leprosy or just a common cold – it either got you an ice cream scoop out of your brain or people just acted like you were a little bit crazy and looked the other way like it would just go away on its own. It sounds like your grandpa got schizophrenia or really bad PTSD and your parents thought they could just hide him out in the cabins, take care of him and hope nothing would happen.”

I picked at my teeth with the cap of a pen and nodded along with Gavin.

“I’m not gonna argue with you on that one.”

Gavin gave a smile and adjusted his glasses.

“But you’ve been staying at the frat house still?”

“Sleeping like a baby ever since and I haven’t even been drinking.”

“And you said his name that morning when he was on top of you and he was gone?”

“It’s hazy, but I felt him start to wake up and I greeted him as ‘grandpa’ and like Shotze and Sarah, he disappeared once I said his name and I was alone in the house again.”

Gavin shook his head in disbelief.

“But I found something up there in the lounge when I went back up there this morning to clean up the glass and grab the pledge picture with him in it,” I went on. “And I want to give it to you.”

I was already clutching the item I wanted to give Gavin as it rested in my pocket. I gave it one last squeeze before I took it out of the darkness of my pocket and placed it on the edge of Gavin’s desk.

A slow smile eased its way onto Gavin’s face when he saw what I had brought to him.

A small totem.

Originally published by Thought Catalog on www.ThoughtCatalog.com.

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apartyinmymouth · 7 years ago

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GAME OF THRONES

True to form, I wrote the crux of this entry one week ago today and coincidentally the phone clocked in at 11:11pm when I hit the save button (sidebar b/c I navigate the region so sublimely) But real talk, I was inspired last Friday and took pen to paper knowing I would tweak/edit the draft before publishing. Also knowing I would be in Jamaica in just a few short days, it seemed only fitting to complete it there…over some Real Jamaican Food ;)

When I initially penned this op piece, there hadn’t been any replies on record. It was and still is about the excitement of a rap battle between two respected and revered artists and less of a critique on the actual raps and/or who won or would win. That said, I’m continuing this Op piece from my initial train of thought - more of the possibility of what it could be instead of where we are presently, round 2 in what has shaped up to be a very disrespectful battle.

So that’s what was going on. I, like most people was just casually minding my business, excited about what’s emerging musically within the culture and all the heat set to drop and seemingly out of nowhere, a shot is fired. Pusha T, the remaining half of rap cult group Clipse, through his infrared beam shot his shot at hip-hop’s reigning Golden Child, Aubrey Drake Graham. In truth, the subs between these 2 gentlemen have been building for some time but this was a focused and direct attack. I imagine Drake had been minding his business as well when the sneak hook occurred and like a reflex – responded immediately, calculated and concisely. By midnight on Friday May 25th a full on battle had ensued. An official rap battle and it’s exciting to be honest. It’s good for the culture! It’s like a GoT season 6 episode 9; Battle of The Bastards sort of moment in the culture. Only this time I believe the underdog is actually the man currently on top. I don’t think y’all understand, I love this rap shit – I can’t lie. The art of it all, it’s the BEST! If both sides are ready and prepared I think it could be great. A lot of people sleep on Drake and forget that he can actually rap.

One thing’s evident with this crew, they do not half step. It’s like that moment in the movie Heat, when Al Pacino realizes he’s been made and says to his team “this is the No Fuckin’ Around Crew.” Nothing is done impulsively no matter the expedience at which something might appear to occur. If they shooting, believe they got magazines racked up ready to let off. It is not a one off. Perhaps it’s the “slept on, stay ready” mentality. A smart one they’ve perfected and so they stay winning. Drake’s consistently put out great music. Feature after feature, album after album, hit after hit – since he stepped foot in the door, The Boy has not missed - a first in this art form. Personally, “Nothing Was The Same” is my favorite body of work in his catalog to date. Top to bottom it’s an all-encompassing complete album full of earned flexing. It’s that “I’m not a freshman, no longer new to this but still feeling like the props I deserve are not being shown and why not, I’m really that nigga!” Is it because he’s foreign that he’s scrutinized more heavily? Hating on Drake is the fuel he uses. This coupled with the fact that the boy is really talented (a fact few of his peers want to acknowledge) is the exact reason why he’ll continue to win. Hate in their veins. Who God Bless, No Man Curse - understand this.

And then there’s Push. Ties and affiliations aside, Pusha T is a lyricist. That rap lyrical respect thing is something else and Clipse is deeply entrenched in the culture. They had/have a cult following! Mix in his crews (Pharrell – Startrak/iamOther x Kanye – G.O.O.D. Music – musical geniuses) this just thickens and sweetens the pot. No offense but this is nowhere even close to that lukewarm Drake x Meek Mill sandbox scafuffle a few seasons back. This battle is a level!

The “battle” is the ethos of rap. This is hip-hop in its truest form. Rap is a contact sport and at times the most deadly because there are no rules. These men, both gifted and skilled in their own right, are sparring right now. Survival of the fittest. I understand this may be new territory for today’s mumble/drug rap generation – “sensitive thugs” purveyors of the ice-cream saccharin sweet sound. You guys are bearing witness to legacy! There is nothing fair about a rap battle. Just ask Ja Rule. It’s eat or get eaten and apparently it’s eating season right now. Personally speaking, I love a great rap battle! I remember candidly the beefs between KRS-1 & MC Shan, Roxanne Shante & The Real Roxanne, Dr. Dre/NWA & Easy E, Ice Cube & Easy E, Cool J and Canibus, the fatal beef between Biggie & Pac that divided a nation and of course the most epic battle of all that birthed the term “ethered”, the beef between Jay Z & Nas. I’ve been a die hard Jay fan since I first heard him on Stretch & Bobbito’s radio show on 89 tech 9 back in the mid-90s. I’ll never forget driving down 2nd Ave in New York City on a surprisingly balmy day in November 2001 listening to Hot 97 FM. Nas had just recorded his answer to Jay’s diss record Takeover and they were about to premiere it on Flex’s show. The moment the beat drop, my heart sunk. “Fuck Jay Z!” chopped and screwed up. The dj drops an atomic bomb adlib effect, starts the record over. “Fuck Jay Z!” I knew in that moment Jay was done. Takeover was volcanic. Jay in a very comedic way pretty much “sonned” Nas with hard truth and the truth is sometimes tough to bear. But then Nas, maybe as a result of feeling disrespected by this “Judas trader”, went nuclear! Ether was the Nasir Jones we loved and had longed to see. Jay tried a feeble attempt at retaliation with the lack luster “Super Ugly” but the winner was clear. There was no coming back after Ether. The crown prince took the L he never saw coming.

As far as this Pusha x Drake beef goes, to date, some really unsavory and defamatory things have been said, I do not disagree. And other people have been dragged into the conversation unjustly. My assumption is unless this wraps up quickly, more things will be said. But all of that aside, understanding the players involved and how much each of them love this real hip hop shit to their core, there has to be a slight tinge of excitement though no one enjoys being on the tail end of a joke. I haven’t been this tuned in to a rap beef since Jay & Nas (50 & Ja Rule’s local Queens catty shit bored me to be honest. {and dudes from Queens be so fuckin’ extra for NO reason} though it did result in the end Ja’s career). So I’m thanking both Drake and Push right now. If for no other reason then for reminding (by example) these other clown rappers what this wave is really about. Good Rap Music!

IMO, the question was never about whether Drake was good or skilled enough to battle Push. Clearly Push believed Drake to be a formidable opponent or he wouldn’t have baited him in the first place. Pusha T is a rapper’s rapper. He wouldn’t have wasted his time, which says a lot about The Boy (a fact some love to argue) The question is can Aubrey be as ruthless as Push? Would he be? If you’re at war or in a battle, you have to fight. This is muthafuckin’ Game of Thrones…Watch The Throne! This is rap music! Kudos Kiddos. This is a music industry bucket list moment. Something you’ll talk about like hip-hop folklore. You’re generation is living through it’s first official rap battle. And it’s real one! –APIMM

Soundtrack for this entry from my schizophrenic iTunes Library.

“Nice Time” –Bob Marley “Hypocrites” –Bob Marley “Duppy Conqueror” –Bob Marley “The Bridge Is Over” – KRS-1 “Set It Off” –Big Daddy Kane “Wu Tang Clan Ain’t Nothin’ To Fuck Wit” –Wu Tang Clan ″4, 3, 2, 1,” -LL Cool J feat. Method Man, Redman, Canibus, DMX ″Second Round K.O.” -Canibus “The Ruler’s Back’ –Jay Z “Takeover” –Jay Z “Ether” –Nas ″Infared” -Pusha T “Duppy Freestyle” –Drake “Ego”-Clipse “Momma I’m So Sorry” -Clipse ″The Games We Play” -Pusha T “Lord Knows” –Drake feat. Rick Ross “Yes Indeed” –Lil Baby feat. Drake “Camay” –Ghostface Killah feat. Raekwon “Planez” –Jermih feat. J.Cole “Fuckin’ You Tonight” –Notorious B.I.G. “Sexy” –Tank “When We” – Tank “Keep Calm” -dvsn “Be With You” -112 “I Need You” –Alicia Keys “Full of Smoke” –Christion “I’m The Only Woman” –Mary J Blige “The Beggar” –Mos Def “Back to Black” –Amy Winehouse “So Simple” –Alicia Keys “The Waiting Line” –Zero 7

#APIMM

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andsotheadventurebeginsblog · 8 years ago

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Down and Down in Paris (and London)

It’s the 5th November 2017 and I am sitting in a beautiful hotel room in Paris unable to go outside, unable to stop crying. I try and eat the breakfast they have left me - a granola yoghurt and a banana, but every swallow feels like the hardest thing I have ever done, and even drinking water is difficult. Basic human needs are a huge problem again.

I have been in Paris with my best friend for 4 days. We came to see a band we love - I bought her tickets for her birthday - and we decided to stay on for a few days to hang out with friends and spend some time together. My best friend is my oldest friend, my housemate and my rock. She has been there though this whole thing with me, not just this time round, but for many years before. Today I was supposed to go with her to hang out with and old friend and his children, but last night we went out and didn’t get home til 3. Yesterday I tried to prepare myself - I tried to eat properly and drink enough water and get ready to spend time with people. I controlled my wine intake. I still drank wine. I saw friends during the day, had lunch, walked round Paris. I felt ok. Not great but OK. We stayed out late talking with another friend. We drank more wine. We were happily drunk. I hadn’t been sleeping well on this trip. I am worried about work and other things and forgot my sleeping tablets.

I had about an hours sleep between fits of night terrors, waking up drenched in sweat, vividly dreaming I was having an affair with one of my friends husbands. This morning I feel like I did that day at Liverpool Street. I feel completely unattached from reality. Horror, fear, paranoia, fits of tears, hoplessness. I tell her I can’t come. I can’t be around people and I can’t be around children when I am like this - I can’t stop crying and I keep thinking if this is all there is then what’s the point in living. I am back to square one in a beautiful hotel in Paris. I have let her and them down. I can’t even fulfil the most basic of responsibilities. She takes me downstairs for coffee and we talk it through and she asks things like have I been taking my drugs? (I missed one yesterday) Is it because we have been drinking too much this week? (More of that later) Is it because I am tired and the pain I am getting in my legs is keeping me awake? (That’s not helping) I try and explain yes and no it is all and nothing of these things. It is a life I am currently confined to. I go out with her to buy bread for the friend she is visiting. That floating feeling I get when I am walking returns. I feel panicy and lost. I put her in and uber and go back to the hotel and that is where you find me now.

I’m going to do something now that I have not done before in a public forum. I’m going to talk about the other demon that is best friends with the one that lives inside my brain, but is more physical. That ones name is alcohol. I have used it most days since I was 15. I have used it to party. I have used it to try and drown the other monster. The one in my brain. I can make the monster blackout if I drink enough of it, but the next day he is there and he’s worse because he’s been fed. So I use it again to quieten him. And on it goes. And on it goes. And on it goes. And there have been times when I have almost convinced myself that I am a complete alcoholic. But I don’t drink in the morning so that must mean I’m not. And I have a job and a home and I am functioning so that must mean I am not. And I can go a day or two without it, so that means that I’m not. And I can go out and just have one pint but most of the time it’s 3 or 4, so that means that I’m not. And I don’t want to be and alcoholic, so that must mean that I’m not.

My job demands it. My social life demands it. All my friends do it, and ask me to come and do it with them. Notice there is no mention of choice here. These things and people demand it. I feel like I have no choice. I know other people who suffer like me, and when we go out, we go out and drink because that's what we do and it helps us to open up and we talk about depression and drink because that’s what we do. It builds up and up, over weeks of going out and being social and trying to manage my illness until I don't eat anymore because I feel awful and I am not hungry, and I shake and I can’t concentrate and that’s when the other monster is at his best. And I have proved what a complete prick I am by not being able to control something as simple as my own drinking habit. And I feel awful so I drink some more.

I drink on my own and with people. More with people than on my own, but I still drink on my own very regularly. I think it’s empowering for me to be able to go and sit and have a glass of wine alone. In reality it’s actually not. It’s fucking stupid.

I question why I drink to try to try and rationalise it. Does it make me feel good? Yeah for a while. Does it make me more interesting? Yeah and more confident and that’s how I can go and be glorious in front of people. Does it relax me? Yeah it does. Is it ruling and ruining my life? Yes it most definitely is. Can I stop drinking it? I don't honestly know. Am I killing myself with it? Yes I am. Is this going to fuck up my dreams of changing my career? Will it ruin my running? Yes it will. I haven't run for 2 weeks. I’ve been tired from the 100 miler, my legs are sore, but I have also been hungover and miserable every fucking day. I have been hungover for the majority of days of my 20’s and 30’s.

At this point, I just want people to understand. I am not looking for sympathy or help or numbers or groups. I am intelligent and I know that there is help for me. I know there is. But I have not yet convinced myself there is a problem with this part of my life, and I hope by writing this that I can identify what level of problem there is. Please don't get in contact with me telling me to go to AA. I know about AA. I know about all of them. If I choose to go, I will and you telling me to go will not help me make that decision and may even be detrimental to me making it if I chose to do so.

In my head, drinking alcohol has as much defined who I am as the depression has. Teenage Allie was bullied and low on self esteem. Teenage Allie with booze was having sex with all the cool guys and going to indie clubs and gigs and was brilliant. University Allie was sacred nobody liked her and was going to massively miss her mum, brothers and sisters. University Allie with booze was the most fun ever and made friends very easily and kept sleeping wth all the cool guys. The University Allie made a few mistakes as a result of booze and some pretty bad life choices, and got severe depression, She tried to kill herself and then and self medicated. With booze. Now she was the sad/fun girl. Today I am party girl. I am red wine party girl. I am red wine, get drunk, be darkly hilarious party girl and if you're a man, stay the fuck away from me because I will destroy you. But I have always taken it too far. I am a blackout drunk. Not all the time, but I am capable of it some of the time. If I am going to be completely honest my alcohol intake has had a direct effect on the destruction of every important romantic relationship I have ever had. My first long term partner was a pretty big recreational drug user and I wasn’t. No biggie, he said, have a drink instead. So he did drugs and I drank. And then something happened in that relationship that made me drink more because what happened was terrible but not for discussion here. And there was no closure on it, and it was never talked about and it haunted my thoughts and it made me depressed and so I chose to drink more. And then I stopped eating. And then by the end I had destroyed my body and my marriage. And I rehabilitated myself with my girlfriends and I did that by going out and drinking. Self styled drinking goth.

Work was the most important part of my life and that meant going out and making friends with bands and being drunk all the time. SO MUCH FUN! I lived on my own now and I hated it. I hated everything. I hated myself for destroying a marriage that was so badly functioning it would never work anyway. I’m hungover. Drink. Work stress. Drink. Friday lunches. Drink. Weekend. Weddings, funerals, family. Drink. All the time, everywhere. All the time.

My second long term relationship, so perfect on paper, was so different and full of love compared to the first time round, and I worked very hard to make it happen because I wanted change. I couldn’t believe my luck when it worked. If something’s too good to be true, it usually is and you will fuck this up, Bailey. Drink. He’s told you to calm down on your drinking. Fuck him, you're fine, he doesn’t know you. orgs stressful and you have to up your game career wise. We need to sign this band. Take them out. Drink. OK now you've calmed down a bit, this is good again, sometimes you go out drinking together, You're the perfect couple. Everyone says so. So lucky. Probably no future, everyone leaves you. Drink. He’s asked you to calm down again. Drink. Show him what you're really made of, do something terrible. Drink. Do something terrible, really show him then lie to him, Drink. Get found out. He's leaving you. Told you that would happen. Drink more, drink more. Back to square one and you have fucked someone else up on the way. Drink. He fucking hates you. Drink.

And on it goes. On and on and on and a tiny part of me is wondering if I am drinking too much, but the monster silences that - nah you're fine. Just a couple. And depression comes and goes and comes and goes and comes and goes and there is one thing you have never changed. You have never stopped drinking. And depression has always been there, and when it gets worse what the thing that’s gone up and not down? The drinking. And when you drink the silence only comes for an hour or so and then you have fractured sleep and wake up feeling awful and so what is the fucking point of drinking?

I don’t want to never drink again. That frightens me. I want to drink normally. But I don't know how to do that. And that means for now, I have to stop. Just for today. I have to stop. An adult lifetime addiction that for now, has to stop.

#mentalhealth depression alcohol drinking

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