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ikeromantic · 3 years ago

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First Day

This is an Ikemen Sengoku coffee shop AU. Approx 1700 words. Nobunaga, the owner of Azuchi Cafe, hires a girl to work in his coffee shop alongside his other oddball employees.

Pastry Chef and little rain cloud: Ieyasu Tokugawa

Head Chef and irredeemable flirt: Masamune Date

Dining Room Manager and rule-master: Hideyoshi Toyotomi

Barista and most popular kid in your class: Ranmaru Mori

Barista and coffee disaster: Mitsunari Ishida

Accountant and walking bad-boy vibe: Mitsuhide Akechi

I have never written a coffee shop AU and I have no idea what I'm doing.

Nobunaga unlocked the back door at 3am. It was so early most people would still call it night, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet at this hour. As if he were the sole living human in a world of stray cats and blinking traffic lights.

He flipped on the lights and began morning prep. As the owner of Azuchi Cafe, he didn’t need to be the shop opener, but he was the kind of man who’d never ask his employees to do something he wouldn’t do himself. This meant he often worked from opening until close, cleaning the kitchen at 10pm. It was something he was proud of, even if it was exhausting some days.

Ieyasu arrived a few minutes later, along with the morning shipment. Fresh fruit, cream, some new coffee bean varieties, and other items he stocked daily. The blond was quiet as he helped unload. Not a morning person, not by a longshot.

Once the crates were inside, Ieyasu made a beeline for the espresso machine and had two cups on the counter before Nobunaga completed his inventory check.

The blond downed both cups and then got started in the kitchen. He was too smart for a cafe job - easily one of the best bakers Nobunaga had ever met. And this cafe was blessed with two, though the other man was a polar opposite of the silent, serious Ieyasu Tokugawa.

As if thinking of him summoned him, the back door swung open and in swaggered Masamune. “Good morning!” His voice was loud and vibrant, as always. He never needed caffeine to feel awake - Masamune was naturally caffeinated.

“D’you have to be so loud?” Ieyasu glared.

“Do you have to be such a grouch?” Masamune raised his one eyebrow. His other eye was covered with a pirate-style eyepatch. The look wasn’t just for effect. He’d lost his left eye to a childhood illness, but that hadn’t dampened his spirit or enthusiasm.

Ieyasu held up a dough covered middle finger in response and went back to making croissants.

Masamune put a hand to his heart. “Such cruelty.”

“Stop bickering and start cooking.” Nobunaga tried to sound stern but couldn’t help the little smile on his lips.

The two of them did, though the grumbling and sniping never really stopped.

While Ieyasu handled bakery items, Masamune was in charge of the grill. Hot sandwiches, soups, and whatever else he decided to put on the menu. Nobunaga had given up trying to restrain him. The man was a genius cook, and whatever he made sold, so it made sense to give him his head.

Akechi showed up next. Mitsuhide was an accountant by trade, with a law degree besides. He didn’t technically work at the shop, but he did the books and didn’t charge much for the work. Nobunaga wasn’t sure why he spent so much time at the cafe, but he’d become a fixture. Showing up before opening to do Azuchi’s books and then sitting in the dining area, working on his laptop for hours.

“Anything I should know about,” Nobunaga called, before Mitsuhide disappeared into the cafe office.

“If there was, I’d tell you. Probably.” Mitsuhide gave him his trademark smile, sly like a fox.

“It’s that probably that worries me.” Nobunaga frowned. He didn’t actually believe Mitsuhide would sabotage him. Not after so many years as a client. But with that man, you never quite knew where you stood.

Akechi shrugged. “I can’t think of a reason not to - but you never know.” He disappeared into the office, and soon the only sound from that room was the clacking of a keyboard.

The sky to the east was beginning to lighten, the stars fading from view. It would be time to open soon. As if on cue, Mitsunari showed up with Ranmaru in tow. They were the baristas, taking orders, making coffee, and serving the sit-down diners.

“Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” Mitsunari said this to Ieyasu’s back as he passed him.

The blond snorted. “It looks like every morning. Literally, exactly the same.”

“And every morning is beautiful.” Mitsunari Ishida smiled. “I am so lucky to work with such wonderful people. It will be a great day. I can feel it.”

Ranmaru laughed. “Absolutely. Just ignore old grumble-pants here. We are going to have an awesome day.”

“I am not old,” Ieyasu snapped.

“You are compared to me!” Ranmaru was the youngest in the crew, and he liked to remind the others about it.

“That’s enough. Get up to the front and prep the display. Both of you.” Nobunaga pointed toward the front counter.

Ranmaru gave him a pouty look, but did as he was told. Despite his penchant for causing trouble in the kitchen, he was great with customers, and pretty reliable.

Mitsunari didn’t seem to realize he’d been in the middle of the bickering. He just smiled and followed Ranmaru to the front.

That one, Nobunaga thought, was dangerous. At first impression, Mitsunari Ishida seemed like an airhead. Cheerful to the point of being vapid, and clumsy as well. But he could take orders faster than anyone else, remember which customer had which preference, and quote the menu without a glance at the board on the wall. He was great, so long as you didn’t ask him to pour the coffee.

At opening, Hideyoshi finally sidled in. He was the dining room manager, in charge of the servers, and everything on the front end. Nobunaga trusted him implicitly. Most cafe owners had to worry about theft and inattention from their cash-handling employees, but not him. Not with Hideyoshi Toyotomi at the counter. That man was a veritable saint, if sometimes a little melodramatic about his service.

“I know you told me I didn’t need to be here until 10, since you open. But I couldn’t let you handle everything alone.” Hideyoshi’s version of ‘good morning’ as he tied his apron on.

Nobunaga sighed. “You are my closing manager, Hideyoshi. You’re going to be stuck here until 10 or 11 tonight . . . and you realize, I do have employees here, helping, right?”

Toyotomi nodded. “Sure, sure. But extra hands always help with morning rush, right?”

“Right. And that’s why I have a new hire coming in at 8.” Nobunaga sighed.

“A new hire?” Mitsunari’s violet gaze lit up. “Will I get to train them?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ieyasu grumbled. “We want them to make coffee, not learn how to dump the pot on the floor.”

“Stop being so mean,” Ranmaru sniped back, defending Mitsunari.

“Hey, hey! The new employee isn’t gonna get trained by any of you. Clearly, the boss is going to put them with me. To pass on my culinary genius.” Masamune’s one eye sparkled.

“No, no, and absolutely not,” Nobunaga said, raising his voice. “Hideyoshi and I are going to train them. If the lot of you don’t terrify them into quitting on their first day.”

And that was the end of that discussion. It was 5am and the door opened. The steady stream of customers kept everyone busy for the next few hours. Lattes and cappuccinos, americanos and macchiatos, and decaf for those in denial. The flow began to slack as 8am approached. Most people were at work now, coffee in hand.

Clean-up started in the kitchen, and Hideyoshi began on the dining room.

The glass front door opened at 8am sharp. The new hire walked in. This wasn’t Nobunaga’s first time meeting her, but he still felt a twang in his chest as she smiled brightly at no one in particular.

“I hope I’m not late!”

Hideyoshi eyed her up and down, nodding to himself. Flat shoes, cute but practical. Hair pulled back sensibly - stylish, but not overdone. Professional clothes, fitted and comfortable. He hadn’t been part of the interview but he was feeling pretty positive about this candidate. He gave Nobunaga a nod.

“No, you’re right on time,” Mitsunari replied, leaning on the counter. His angelic smile was fixed on her.

The impact was obvious. One did not face the pure, focused joy of Mitsunari and not feel it. She blinked for a moment, stunned, her cheeks flushing. “Oh. Well that’s good, right?”

“Sure is,” Ranmaru said, coming around the side of the bakery display. He wiped his hands on his apron and held one out to her. “Welcome to Azuchi!”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Nobunaga grumbled.

“Yeah, but I’m cuter when I say it.” Ranmaru’s cheek reply got a chuckle from Masamune.

The one-eyed chef came out from the kitchen to observe. He wasn’t looking for whatever qualities Hideyoshi had, but what he saw made him grin. “Well, lass, I’d say welcome again but that’d make me look like an idiot. How ‘bout I help you put on an apron and show you around the place?”

“Again, my line,” Nobunaga said tiredly.

Ieyasu poked his head out from the back and sighed heavily. “Great. Another fluff head to train. Look, when you get bored listening to these idiots, come find me in the kitchen. I’ll try to teach you to bake. I’m sure you can manage a simple recipe. Probably.”

The girl looked unsure how to respond. She finally shrugged. “Yeah, ok! I’m here to work, so whatever you want to teach me, I want to learn.”

“You’d be better off learning how to keep the books,” said an amused voice behind Ieyasu.

The girl’s eyes darted up as Mitsuhide came out from the back. “Not that I’m hiring. I don’t do internships either,” he continued. He stepped out from behind the counter and closed in on her like a stalking cat. His golden eyes slid down from her face, over her chest and hips, down her legs, and back up, slow as syrup. “Though I can think of some reasons to make an exception.” He handed her a business card. “For when you tire of this service job.”

“Ah, thanks?” She glanced at the card and by the time she looked up again he was gone.

“Everyone, get back to work. I’m handling the new hire. You’ll all get a chance to train with her. I want her to work swing, so she’ll need to know a little of everything.” Nobunaga clapped once.

The workers all got back to it, though not without plenty of backward glances.

Hideyoshi handed the girl an apron. “Good luck!”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen ranmaru #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen masamune #ikesen ieyasu #coffee shop au #fanfiction #fanfic #otome guys #otome #fluff

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crystalsmentalhealth · 3 years ago

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Talking about the Brattleboro Retreat in Brattleboro, Vermont

I recently spent two weeks at the Retreat and wanted to share my experiences both good and bad about it.

I arrived at the Retreat in mid-June of 2021 after a four day stay at the Emergency Department of my local hospital. Originally I had not wanted to go to the Brattleboro Retreat because it was such a big campus and I equated that with busy and loud and impersonal. The Retreat would challenge my assumptions.

Getting There

I didn’t drive myself. As I said I spent four days in the ED of my local hospital and so I arrived via ambulance. The ride was stressful and nauseating. I was already stressed and nervous and the mountainous winding roads did absolutely nothing to help. I didn’t lay in the stretcher, but sat in a back-facing seat with no arm rests and with a blood pressure cuff around my left arm.

The trip took about an hour and except for a few questions from the person riding in the back with me, it was spent in nearly complete silence, which again, did nothing to help my nerves. There was no reassurance or even light conversation.

My Arrival

When we got there, they grabbed my bags for me, probably because I wasn’t allowed to have them yet, and with one person before me and one person behind me, lead me up the stairs to the admissions office. We were met at the door by an admissions person and I was dropped off like an Amazon package. The ambulance personnel left and I was officially at the Retreat.

I was first led to Security. They dropped off my bags with Security, and asked me to empty my pockets. I had none and told them such. Then I was led to an exam room where the woman who was with me found a gown that would fit me and held it up in front of her. I was then told to strip completely. I balked, but obeyed. First went my shirt, then my bra, then I stepped into the gown. Then with that covering me, I wiggled out of my pants and underwear. She gave me a pair of hospital pants to put on so I wasn’t completely bare. Then I was shown a chair and given a pair of huge grippy socks to wear. One size fits all, I guess.

After that the lady took my blood pressure, my pulse, and checked my oxygen levels. Then she took my temperature. My clothes and shoes were sent to Security with the rest of my things. I had off-brand crocs as shoes so I had no idea what they needed to check for, but off they went.

After the clothing change I was led to an office. I felt so awkward standing in a grey hospital gown, blue hospital pants, no panties, and those huge grippy socks, in front of two nicely dressed office personnel. They let me have a seat and the questions and paperwork began.

What was my insurance? Did I know about the extra inpatient days allowed? Who was my primary care physician? My therapist? My psychiatrist? My case worker? Did I have an Advanced Directive? What are the addresses? Did I want a male or female provider? There were so many questions!

Then it was sign here, and here, and here, and here, and here.

After that I was given a green folder that said Welcome to Tyler 2 which contained various information that I would need during my time there. My patient Bill of Rights, how to file a complaint or grievance. That sort of stuff.

Then it was off to another area and now they wanted a urine sample. I had already done two at the hospital and really didn’t need to pee, but I tried. I assume it was for a drug test, but I have no real clue.

Then I was sent off to another exam room, this time for a full physical. She asked me all about my medical history, whether I was having normal bowel movements or not, all about my diabetes, my family history (cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer, heart disease, cancer, kidney failure, cancer), she even checked my reflexes. The ARNP that examined me had the neatest notebook. It was electronic and I was fascinated by it.

(At the time of writing this I’ve only been home for two full days and I still have a very clingy cat who is currently laying on my left hand so if you catch a typo that kitty has caused me, please let me know.)

After the physical I was given one outfit to wear back, sans bra because my bra was underwire, and I was sent to a seat to wait to be sent to the unit.

The lady who watched over me offered me something to drink while I waited and when she offered milk I took her up on it. Unfortunately it was 1% milk, which I really hate, but hey, milk, so I drank it while I waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. Before long a Security guard and a nurse from the unit I would go to came down and led me down one corridor, in one elevator, through a cafeteria, up another elevator, and finally I was on the unit.

Tyler 2

The first thing I noticed when I got on the unit was that the bedrooms were singles. Yes! I hate sharing my bedroom in hospitals. At the worst, I’d once had to share with three other people stuffed into a two person bedroom. Two poor souls had had to sleep on cots. So I was very happy to see that I would have my own room.

I was shown into an interview room for yet even more paperwork and questions. All this is the business of the psychiatric hospital and it comes at the literal worst time of your stay, the beginning. When you’re scared and your nerves are raw, and your mental health is at it’s worst.

A three question questionnaire was first. Why are you here? How can we help? What are your coping skills? Depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation. I don’t know. Reading and journaling.

Then there was a check list of things that helped when I was feeling bad. I was fascinated to see that laying down in my room was one of the options. Most hospitals I had been in forbade that, with some going so far as to lock the doors to the bedrooms during the day so people didn’t sleep the day away. It was a pleasant surprise, and I checked that off along with a few others that I felt applied.

Then, the nurse, and we’ll just call her Rose, asked me if I was hungry and told me that they always had sandwiches on the unit and that the kitchen which held milk, orange juice, flavored water, cold water, hot water, coffee, teas, and various snacks was open 24/7. I declined both sandwich and snack.

Finally, I was left alone for a couple of minutes and I had a moment to just breathe. It was a Thursday according to the giant whiteboard that had the day’s schedule on it. Most of the groups were over with.

A little bit later a bag was brought up with my clothes and another with the few things I was allowed to have: my Bible; two coloring books; two books (A Street Cat Named Bob and A Wrinkle in Time); my toothbrush, my hair brush, and my composition notebook; were given to me. The clothes I wasn’t given yet. I was told by a nurse that because of COVID they washed everything that came on the unit whether it was clean or not and I would get my clothes once they were dry.

I was then shown my room. Number 219 was to be my home for the foreseeable future. It was a fair sized room, the walls painted hospital blue, the floor had boring brown patterned tiles, There was a plastic chair, a twin size bed with a single pillow, and brown blanket, and bottom sheet. There was no flat sheet.

There was a set of built in shelves and a small alcove with an unbreakable mirror and large shelf where I put my green folder as well as my other personal belongings that I was permitted to have. I hung around in there for a few minutes before wandering back out and awkwardly looked around.

It was soon 8:30pm and Rose, who was my nurse that night, offered me my bedtime medications. I accepted and went to bed.

The Schedule

I slept fitfully that night. I was scared, they checked on me every 15 minutes, and it wasn’t quite dark when I went to bed. I woke up obscenely early the next morning, which is very unusual for me, but I attribute it to the uncomfortable mattress, the lack of my comfort item; a stuffed cat named Fat Cat that I sleep with, and the fact that my room had a double window that faced directly East. The sun rises at about 4:45am right now, so it woke me up at around 5:30am that morning.

I wandered out, thinking it was much later than it actually was, since it was fully light out. I sleepily blinked at the analog clock and tried to decipher it. Inwardly I groaned at the time. To kill time, I awkwardly wandered around the unit again, and I think I laid back down for a little while.

Eventually I left my room again and it was 7:30am. Shift change. I can’t remember who my nurse was that morning, but by 8am it had become quite the busy place with the morning nurses, the mental health workers, the social workers, and the group leaders milling about the nurses station.

I noticed that the whiteboard had changed with the day, and so I glanced at the Friday schedule.

8am - Breakfast 9am - Community Meeting 10am - OT Movement 11am - Psychotherapy 12pm - Lunch 1pm - Courtyard (yellow level) 2pm - OT Activities 3:30pm Shift Change 4pm - Courtyard (yellow level) 5pm - Supper 6:15pm - Game room/small courtyard (yellow level) 7pm - Wrap Up 8pm - Free Time 9pm - Relaxation 10pm - Phones/computer/TV off

Yes, we had a computer. Some guy we’ll just call J tended to hog it, but so long as it wasn’t group, before morning shift change or after 10pm or 11pm on Friday night and Saturday night, anybody could use it. Of course Facebook and YouTube were blocked, but Vimeo wasn’t. Can somebody please tell me the difference between YouTube and Vimeo?

I didn’t really go to groups that first day, and I was on Red level, so I wasn’t allowed outside even if I had wanted to. I did however see the Social Worker, a very nice woman we’ll just call M. and my doctor via ZOOM, Dr. L.

All of the staff was really nice to me, and the unit, which at that point had a census of 19, was actually fairly quiet for the most part.

When 8am hit, and the breakfast trays arrived, I asked where I should go to eat. I was told I could eat on the porch, the day room, or in my room. Eating in peace alone in my room. Yes, please. I took my tray, got a carton of milk, and walked down the hall to my room.

When I pulled the lid off my plate, I discovered eggs, home fries, and a corn muffin. I also had some fruit. I cautiously tried the potatoes and found them to be quite good, but couldn’t eat anything else so I took my tray back.

I hovered awkwardly around the schedule board until somebody brought me a chair.

Then it happened. My stomach began churning. I went to the nurses station and told one of the three nurses that I had a bit of an upset stomach and could I have something for it? She looked up something and told me I could have some Tums. She sent me to the med window and used some fancy machine to dispense the Tums. I stuck them in my mouth and chewed. I swallowed. It was then that I knew I had made a mistake. I literally felt the Tums hit my stomach, felt my stomach cramp, and then I was vomiting.

After that experience and the cleaning up thereof, I got my morning meds at around 9am, and soon found myself back in the interview room, this time with a nutritionist. At least I think that was Friday. It could have been Monday. Regardless, I talked to her about being sick (it wasn’t the first time, I had gotten sick back in the ED as well), my lack of appetite, my diabetes, the medication for diabetes I was on (2000mg of Metformin and .5mg of Ozempic). She gave me some information the nutritionist I had talked to from my doctor’s office had already given me, then ordered Glucerna for me three times per day.

Glucerna is the diabetics version of Ensure for those of you who don’t know.

I slept a lot that day, and I’m pretty sure I refused lunch and maybe supper. They checked on me - and everybody else - every 15 minutes, but otherwise didn’t pester me.

The next day, of course, started the weekend. I can’t remember the exact schedule for the weekend, but it was far, far more boring than then weekday. There was just Community Meeting which I wandered into but didn’t participate in, a couple more courtyard opportunities than on the weekdays, more free time, Wrap Up and Relaxation. Relaxation happened at 9pm, but I already considered that bedtime as that was when I got my bedtime medication.

Sunday was just a repeat of Saturday with one bright exception. Sunday Sundaes. At around 2pm we got ice cream with sundae toppings that we could have on it. I don’t think I got it that first Sunday, but I can’t quite remember.

Monday doesn’t bring any particular memories except that that’s when I started attending a group here and there.

Meeting Nathan

Then Tuesday came, and I met Nathan. Nathan was a Psych intern who is now no longer there, so I’m not afraid of using his name. Nathan did 11am Psychotherapy, but had been on vacation the week before as well as Monday. I liked him instantly. He spoke quietly, thoughtfully, gently, and never pressed for answers if the person didn’t want to or couldn’t.

At first, we only spoke in group, but after one group disintegrated into chaos he ended it early and offered to speak to me one-on-one. The one-on-one time I got with Nathan, which eventually became every weekday, became the best, most helpful part of my stay at the Retreat. Some of his questions were hard. They were either highly thought provoking or brought on strong emotions, but he was very skilled in not pushing too hard and always bringing me back to the present if I got too lost in the past.

I think I opened up more to Nathan in the week and a half that we spoke than I ever did in the two years I’ve seen my normal therapist.

The Nightmares

I’ve suffered from nightmares for a very long time. In my nightmares I’ve been raped, had my home invaded, seen demons, had my parents stolen away by a dragon (that one happened twice. Same stupid dragon too.), been kidnapped, been chased around Wal-Mart by paramedics with a stretcher, and so on and so forth. The nightmares I suffered at the Retreat were something else entirely.

The dream I remember most, and let me list off some trigger warnings real quick: blood; abortion; abuse; infant death; decomposition; bad parenting; bad medical professionals, was about this young woman who tried to do some sort of home abortion that got botched. She went to the hospital and they sent her strait to surgery where they cut her open with no painkillers or anesthesia. The baby was tiny, but healthy and viable, so they took her out of the young woman’s womb, and haphazardly stapled the woman’s abdomen back together.

Then the dream began to focus on the baby, but not in linear time, but rather in snapshots. In the first snapshots the baby was fine. Pink, perfect, beautiful little girl dressed in frills. Then the next day’s photographs and the baby’s face was turning black in places. The next; her eyes turned murky and there was more decomposition. Mind you, while she’s decomposing, she’s still alive. Then her little fingers turn black and fall off, and it continues like this until the fifth day when the baby finally dies.

The mother, who was recovering from her own trauma, couldn’t have cared less about her baby.

The nightmare turned weird after that and I don’t remember what happened next, but I continued to have vicious nightmares during my stay there.

Dr. L tried to treat them with Prazosin. but I found that it made my nightmares more vivid. Then she tried to get me in a deeper sleep so the dreams wouldn’t wake me up, but that only got me caught in the nightmares and unable to wake up.

We never did figure out how to ease the nightmares and keep me asleep at the same time. Right now we’re trying a higher dose of Gabapentin, also known as Neurontin. I guess we’ll see how it works out.

Strange Characters

There were some...interesting characters at the Retreat. There was one guy who we’ll call J. You may recall him from my complaints about him being a computer hog. He suffered from delusions of grandeur and I believe psychosis. One time I was in the open area near the nurses station he began staring at me suspiciously. Then, after a couple of very awkward moments he asks me, “are you an Imperial or a Rebel?” I told him I had no idea what he was referring to. Miss J who was sitting near by goes, “she’s an imperial, she’s a good girl.” Then J nods and says “I know she’s my sister in Christ, so she must be good.”

I still have no idea what he meant by Imperial or Rebel. Is it a Star Wars thing? If so I thought the Rebels were the good guys. I’m so confused.

Miss J was a homeless woman who had been there for nearly nine weeks. She was very nice to me, but she mumbled a lot and I had to keep asking her to repeat herself.

M was a strange old lady. She would sit at the nurses station and laugh and laugh and laugh as loudly as she could, then all of the sudden she’d be declaring one of the housekeepers an angel on earth and how he should be protected and how everybody else was basically garbage. She eventually got taken out via ambulance.

A was another strange woman. Having been there since May 27th, 2021, she was there involuntary, She talked to herself a lot, drank loads of coffee, walked in and out of groups, and was best buddies with a woman who liked to be called Rabbit, as her real name, the same name as A, triggered her. A and Rabbit were thick as thieves and fed off of each other’s chaos.

Rabbit liked to sing at the top of her lungs when she was happy and when she was angry she would file a grievance, announce loudly that Obama was her father and that you (the nurse she was screaming at) aren’t her boss. She was nice enough to me, but I went out of my way to be as non-intrusive as possible.

Then there was D. D was 30-years-old, claimed to have 12 children. D was volatile, a substance abuser who enjoyed “a drink, some weed, and some coke”. Pretty sure she didn’t mean the soda. D had a shadow who had to write down what she was doing every five minutes. I don’t know exactly why, for the most part, volatile or not, she was pretty chill. She dressed provocatively and the first time she spoke to me it was early morning and we were on the porch.

She asked me why I was there. I told her depression. She asks my why I was depressed. I admitted that there was a lot of trauma in my past. She tells me she’s been (tw:rape) raped all her life, and then proceeded to tell me that I shouldn’t be depressed because I was pretty and thin. Now. I’m smaller than D was, because I’ve never had children, let alone 12 of them, but I’m 5′3″ and 210 pounds; thin is not an adjective I would use to describe me.

She then proceeds to tell me that I needed a better bra. I was wearing a soft low support sports bra, so yeah, my chest area was very un interesting. I told her I was just wearing something I could sleep comfortably in. She told me to shop at Victoria’s Secret for some better bras and I’d feel great.

After that, D decides to mention the gray in my hair. She says “you should get extensions to make your hair long and pretty, or better yet, shave your head and wear wigs. It’s what the black girls do.” She then went on about how wigs could really look good and how I’d have so much fun with it that I’d forget all about being depressed and how there were some sites where you could buy some good wigs for really cheap.

As I recall, I was fairly unresponsive during her spiel and walked away as soon as it wasn’t rude to.

The Really Bad Day

I don’t recall exactly what day it was, time blurs for me on a good day, and I wasn’t having any good days while I was at the Retreat, but one day was really bad.

TW: Suicide TW: Self-Harm

I was really, really suicidal, and I told the nurse I was talking to that. She asked if I had a plan, and for the first time I really did. I told her I would wait until right after a check - remember we got checked on every 15 minutes - then I would take a pair of my pants and wrap them around my neck and strangle myself.

Then she asked if I intended to follow through with the plan. I wanted to, I really did, but I also didn’t want to cause trouble, and that’s a huge issue with me, so I told her no. And that was the truth. I was suicidal, I did have a plan. I had a detailed plan actually. But I didn’t really intend of following through.

As you might expect, she had to report that to my doctor. Dr. L. spoke to me about how I was feeling and later, about five minutes after I had gotten on the computer to use Duolingo to distract myself, (See, I was using coping skills.), the nurse I had spoken to, and who I liked quite a lot, came to me and said that Dr. L wanted them to temporarily confiscate my clothes and take the sheet and blanket off my bed. It was to be replaced by blankets that couldn’t be ripped. Nurse E told me it wasn’t a punishment, it was a safety precaution, but I was so embarrassed and felt punished. I was allowed to keep the weighted blanket they had let me borrow, and my pillow, but other than that they took every bit of fabric in the room.

I don’t know if it was a good move or not. I just know that I wanted things back to ‘normal’, as though anything in a psych hospital could be normal, but the next day I lied to Dr. Lambert and told her I was feeling better. She said I could have my stuff back, but for some reason when I asked a nurse later on, she told me that there were no orders about it from Dr. L.

I asked again the next day and was finally able to get my linens and clothes back. I even got an extra pillow, for which I was very grateful for as my original pillow had been quite flat and hard.

The Road to Discharge

I was originally supposed to have been released on June 29th, a Tuesday, but I had to admit to Dr. L that I just didn’t feel like I could be safe at home yet. Not to mention that we were still trying to deal with my nightmares and sleep issues.

Dr. L and M, my social worker began giving me assignments to do. I was to fill out a safety plan, which I did. M had me write a letter to my regular therapist about the changes I needed her to make to improve our sessions. I am terrified to read it to her, but I really need to. I was given a huge stack of DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) information and worksheets to fill out, Nathan had me write something about a cousin of mine who had passed away due to an overdose of Fentanyl, and so I wrote her a letter telling her how much I missed her, how I was angry she was gone, disappointed that she couldn’t tell me she was back on drugs, how I was angry at her mom for getting her hooked on drugs in the first place, and ways I could have helped if she had just let me.

Meanwhile, people found out that I could make things out of the Model Magic that they had in the Contraband/Sensory room. I made I can’t even remember how many cats for people. I also made roses, and one dragon.

I was also writing dark poetry, just trying to purge my dark thoughts and get them out on paper.

Nathan continued to have one-on-one therapy with me each weekday, even if he only had half an hour.

I was meeting with my social worker daily, which they normally didn’t do, but when she realized that I wouldn’t go to them if I needed something, she decided to head it off, and meet with me, even if it were only a couple of minutes, each week day.

Finally, we decided on a day. Friday, July 2, 2021. I was so nervous, but so excited to come home and see my furbaby, Loki.

When the day came, I dressed in the nicest clothes that I had brought, which was a pair of elastic waist jeggings and my pink Cat Mom t-shirt which everybody loved. I only went to one group that day, and that was Psychotherapy, and I had my meeting with Nathan. I had one last meeting with Dr. L. and my social worker. My nurse that evening gave me my treatment plan which had my diagnoses. (Major depressive disorder, severe; Borderline Personality Disorder; and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Just as supper arrived I got the word that my ride was there.

Final Thoughts

Being at the Brattleboro Retreat was a difficult experience, but it was also a positive experience. In the beginning I was mad I wasn’t at the place where I had wanted to go, which was the Windham Center, but by the end of my first week there, I had decided to make the best of where I was. I didn’t like all the nurses, I definitely had my favorites and those I dreaded, not that they were ever mean to me, but I’m not sure, there’s just people you don’t like, you know?

I was on a great schedule while I was there. I was up no later than 8am and went to bed around 9pm, I ate at specific times. I got my medicine at specific times, and that routine was very comforting. Did I keep to it when I got home?

No. It’s currently 12:26 in the morning and I’m working on this still.

I’m still drinking my Glucerna, no matter that it costs me $40 a week for three a day, but I just don’t want to eat. Oh, I nibble. I’ve eaten some chocolate graham crackers and sipped on a 20oz Vanilla Coca Cola over the last four days. I just don’t eat.

I learned, while I was there, that it’s okay to speak up, to take up space, to have a voice, even if it’s quiet, I learned that it’s okay to get angry or ask for help. I can ask people for what I need. I don’t know how well I’ll be able to apply what I learned, but that’s always the hardest part of learning any new skill.

I know that this has been a huge amount of reading, but I wanted to give you a detailed example of what a psychiatric hospital is like. I hope that it informs you and I hope that if you’re heading to a psychiatric hospital or treatment center that maybe after reading this you’ll have less fear and anxiety because you have some clue as to what to expect.

I would also like to let my readers know that these are just my personal experiences in an American psychiatric hospital. I have no idea about British hospitals or European hospitals or even hospitals in other parts of the United States. My experiences in hospitals in Florida is a stark contrast to my experience in Vermont hospitals. I find Vermont’s response to medical care and psychiatric care in general is substantially better than Florida’s. I’ll do a post on that later.

Ask for help. Take up space. Use your voice.

National Suicide Hotline: 800 273-8255 Crisis Text Line: Text START to 741741

By the way, if you need me to tag another trigger word, please just send me a message and I’ll edit the tags to take your trigger word in consideration.

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queer-cosette · 4 years ago

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The terrible tale of the Demon Roommate

Have I told you guys about Demon Roommate? I’ve probably mentioned her before in side notes but I don’t think I ever compiled the full story.

So, Demon Roommate (who from now on I will call DR) was not my roommate, but was the roommate of three of my friends from college, who we will call Jenny, Nicole and Daphne. DR from the getgo had not set herself up as a nice person; Daphne at the time was on anti-depressants, and upon seeing the pill container in their shared space, DR told Daphne she didn’t think Daphne should be taking anti-depressants because they changed the chemicals in your brain. Daphne’s response was obviously

So DR had not made a great first impression.

As a side note, DR did not like me because I once threw up red wine on their hall carpet while drunk and she had to clean it up. However, given what happened later, this was a minor bit of karma biting her in the ass.

So just before christmas, my best friend who we’ll call Grace was having some difficulty with housing issues. She’d had her own Demon Roommate - a family ‘friend’ who began locking her out of the flat until 10pm, yelled at her for not doing things she’d already done, and eventually kicked her out right before tuition was due. Grace couldn’t afford her own place at that point, and was couch surfing until Jenny, Nicole and Daphne offered her a semi-permanent spot on their couch until she could get something sorted. Jenny, Nicole and Daphne had two other roommates besides DR, and they had both agreed. DR was the only one who didn’t want Grace staying on their couch, but was overruled by the fact that she was the only roommate who went to a different college. Grace was only 16 at the time, and DR would have happily refused her a place to stay. (I was commuting from a city on the other side of the country, and so obviously wasn’t a viable option for Grace to stay with.)

And so, with her five roommates pretty mad at her for being willing to let a 16-year-old sleep rough, the war began. DR’s first move as soon as Grace had her own flat was to move her boyfriend into her bedroom. He stayed there for the rest of the year - except weekends, when they would go to his place. Yes, he owned his own place, but insisted on staying in the cramped student flat. Not only was it illegal according to the lease, but we’re 90% sure he was subletting his own place.

She and her boyfriend would smoke in her room (against the lease rules), smoke weed in her room (super against the lease rules), and would have his friends over to smoke weed in her room (MEGA against the lease rules). Afterwards, DR would steal the other girls’ food out of the fridge because of her munchies. She and her boyfriend would also cook seafood in the main room, and would leave their pots dirty for days. Jenny snapped after the third day of a reeking prawn pot, and cleaned it for DR, who then had the gall to complain that Jenny had used the wrong sponge and ‘next time’ needed one that wouldn’t ruin DR’s pot.

Then there was the cabinet. DR’s boyfriend came home one day with an antique cabinet he’d got for ‘a really good price’ and put it in the main room, because there ‘wasn’t enough room in DR’s bedroom’. The cabinet had not been discussed with the other roommates. I saw it, and it was not what you’d call ‘compact’. They filled it with protein shakes and tomato juice (what for? DR was the least physically active roommate in that flat) and when Nicole complained on behalf of the flat about it being too big and having nowhere to put their things, DR and her boyfriend, instead of getting the hint and removing it, offered to get another one.

That was when the girls had enough, and complained to the building manager. The management agreed to organise a random inspection, to try and catch DR with weed or with her boyfriend in the apartment. Both the weed and the boyfriend managed to avoid the first random check, but DR was not happy about it and made it known through loud and whiney complaints. I’m pretty sure the boyfriend would have got physically threatening if he’d had the guts, but he was dealing with five trained ballet dancers, all of whom were fully capable of kicking his head off if the fancy struck them. Another random check was planned, but by then it was the end of the year, and too late to really do anything about it. Jenny moved to London, Nicole decided to take a year out, and Daphne switched to different college that had on-campus dorms. I don’t know if the other two roommates ever got rid of DR, or if DR moved out on her own.

The point of me telling this story might be hard to see at first, since there’s no real catharsis. DR never got pro-revenged or even petty-revenged (unless you count me refusing to give her a cupcake one time). The point is, sometimes people are assholes for no apparent reason other than they weren’t held enough as a child. Also, always ask for a random room inspection at the first annoying illegal shit your roommate pulls; it’s not worth waiting for something worse.

#the tale of the demon roommate #coco speaks #old stories

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hoopdiddies · 6 years ago

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I'm Not Over You //Ben Hardy x Reader (Part 9)

A/N: All the fact checking had me reeling to be honest and this is one long-ass chapter, longer than the one where I said 'it's the longest I've written' but actually this wins the competition. I've used some lyrics from the song Photograph cos I felt like it would go nicely with the flow plus I am weak with hospital scenes because of the distresses that occur within it but I tried ya know ¯_(ツ)_/¯ It's a little messy and dramatic on a side note because I had to deal with some outside disturbances as well and my mind was on other things 😔 But again, thank you guys for supporting this series! Your feedbacks mean a lot ♥ Tag list is always open!! (seriously, I need more people to tag xd)

Summary: You had always loved Ben ever since you the two of you met in university and became the best of friends. That feeling went out like a candle flame when you parted ways until he re-entered your life...but this time with someone who has already occupied his heart.

Warnings: That angst from 8? Yeah, it just upgraded, fluff if you, like, use a microscope, explicit description of blood and injuries, swearing but I kept it to a minimum, mentions of death but there's actually no death. Melodrama, ig? Sorry, I had a hard time writing consistently this week ^^'

WC: 6.5k (Someone got carried away.)

Tags: @haendel-me-with-care

@mrsdoradominguez-barnes

@mickmoon

@lakef

@mrsmazzello

@valeriecarolinaw

@queen-turtle-boiii

@loveandbeloved29

@hardzzellos

Parts: 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

"Someone please help! Help us! "

"Bloody bastard just drove off without even stopping! "

"Are you fu- you left your phone?! He's barely clinging on to life!! Ask a random person to dial 911!"

"Oh god, what- what do we do- his head, his freaking head! There is so much blood right now!"

"D-don't move his neck! He's critical!"

"Rosy. Rosy. Calm down...he has to be fine..he should be... "

"An ambulance is on its way!"

"His head is fucking bloody! Do you even want- fuck! Someone help here! Someone, please help! "

"Is he even breathing?! "

"Oh god, Y/N! He's not- he's not! "

"You better not be joking around!"

"Joe! He is bloody dying and you think I'm fucking joking?!"

"He has no pulse as well..."

"I got to- I have to make an attempt to resuscitate him. "

"Are you sure?"

"We're not waiting for that goddamn vehicle! If I don't do it, he's going to die!"

"Wake up, Ben! Please, wake up..."

Blur. That's what everything was. A huge, uncoordinated, focal blur. A sea of people had crowded the scene like a flock of sheep ready to graze on the pasture, except the only green they had for their eyes was the sight of six, dreadful friends taking it in their hands to keep the seventh one grounded while they wait for professional help.

The ones with flashing cameras hoisted up high to document the scene disgusted you down to the pits of your stomach and you had wished for them to scatter away. You all, especially you had to bear the agony of seeing him motionless on the asphalt ground– without breath, skin drained of color while the only color highlighted in the spectrum was the copious but graphic amount of blood that had tainted the spot he was lying in– his hair coated in the sticky, sanguinary puddle, creating a traumatizing mix of blond and deep red that you now couldn't forget. The tears pricking from your eyes when you had given him mouth to mouth mingling with his bleeding forehead.

He had lost all consciousness at a maximum.

You had ached to cradle his body right there and then but had you acted on impulse; it would've worsened the situation.

Medics had filled in the scene seconds after you had given Ben a well-thought out CPR undeterred by your raging adrenaline. He was then brought into the ambulance with Rosy tagging along to be there when they rush him into the ER. You had gone after with the others in Gwilym's car, your shaking hands coated with drying blood -his drying blood- as you made your way to the hospital in a blistering cruise.

You're still in your dress, only topped with Joe's designer blazer to shield you from the cold and a warm, half-empty cup of brew situated between your palms partially substituting the natural heat of your skin, waiting quietly in the lounging room. They had transferred Ben to a private room after performing an operation on his head and scanning him afterwards. One of the emergency doctors remarked that if it weren't for your initiative to follow first aid protocol and give him immediate resuscitation before help had arrived– he would have gone ten minutes early.

You've been waiting an hour and a half for the doctor to step out of the room and deliver the news about his condition. And while you do that, Joe and Lucy have gone off to collect a fresh pair of clothing from the hotel for you to change into. Rosy is stood at the entrance making some calls, Gwilym and Rami have gone back to their respective hotels to change clothes and come back for the news.

You felt light hearing that comment but it's nothing compared to the aftermath of the accident. It was a hit-and-run and the driver didn't even step on his breaks or bother to stop to take responsibility.

Rami's blazer that had been used to delay Ben's bleeding has been given back to him for dry cleaning. To complicate the situation, you're supposed to be boarded on a plane back to England eight hours from now yet that's something you have to cross out from the bucket list, entirely. You're not going anywhere unless Ben heaves out a single sigh of life.

Not a single step out the fucking institution unless he opens those eyes.

Unless he parts his lips.

Unless he says your name.

You owe it to him for saving your life, nearly costing his.

And it's just 2 in the morning.

You put down the cup on the space next to you, bringing your hands up to your lowered head, underneath your eyes watering from all of that's happened tonight.

"We're back." Two figures stand before you minutes after your eyelids have fluttered shut in despair. You lift your head to be met with Joe and Lucy in their casual clothes, smiling sadly at you with paperbags in hand.

You return that smile with a much weaker one. They settle the bags down and Joe sinks down on one knee in front of you, taking your face in his hands gently while he peeks up at you. "I see the news isn't out yet. You can change, we'll take care of it."

"You sure?" You mumble quietly. He nods and you prolong a sigh as you sit up, getting tenderly lulled into a hug by Lucy. "He's gonna be okay." She expresses definitely as she rubs your back. You thank her for the reassurance before taking one of the bags that contains your clothes.

Pulling the hem of your sweatshirt in place, you couldn't wait to escape the lavatory. It smells of newly applied bleach and the pungent odor is plain nauseating. You close the door with the bag in hand on your way out but freeze in your spot as a certain, exclusive news breaks out in the TV screen above you.

"Just 10pm tonight, Bohemian Rhapsody and EastEnders star, Ben Hardy, has reportedly been gravely involved and injured in a hit-and-run just outside of Wallis Annenberg Center during the ongoing Vanity Fair after party. Sources said that he had dashed headlong down the traffic-jammed streets to what they said was an attempt to save co-star's, Joe Mazzello, date from an incoming vehicle– which he had succeeded in as he failed to save himself–" The rest of the news anchor's words go unprocessed in your head as you hurriedly trace your way back to the lounging area, unwilling to hear recurring reports at yours or anyone's expense.

It already hurts enough that you think it's partly your fault for acting so careless.

By now, the attending physician should be out and conveying the news to Lucy and Joe and as you arrive– he is, hands in his lab coat pockets, informing them in the most serious of tones.

They see you approaching and you ask immediately, words stumbling out of your mouth like perceivable beats. "Doc, how is he? How's Ben?"

With Lucy and Joe already informed about it, the doctor decides to tell you himself to save them the hassle. "He should be fine soon. However I must be frank with you, miss," your heart loses a beat for a fraction of a second at the suspense rising, "he flat lined twice in the ER. It took three sets of defibs to get his heart beating again." Hearing him break to you that Ben was a simple step away from death as they tried to treat him drains the warm color palette in your face, even with the affirmation that he's going to be alright; knowing there were two moments in which he had slipped in and out of life at the same time just upsets your stomach.

The doctor continues with his report, telling you that he's suffered from a mild to severe head trauma caused by the blunt force when he had his scalp dragged along the asphalt. Apparently he fissured the the near front of his skull and underwent neurosurgery for it. You quickly get the idea, having studied a series of medical topics of course, but it doesn't invalidate the fact that it still sounds like a bad thing.

The doctor sighs and adds. "Although he bled internally at a minimum, he's lucky to have bled externally for the most part."

Forming a steeple of your fingers and stealing a quick glimpse of Lucy and Joe, you gulp hard. "How long 'til he wakes up?"

"I'd say in about 48 hours. His scan results after the surgery showed promise for a stable recovery though he might wake up a little dazed at first due to the moderate concussion," at least you're getting the assurance that he's waking up, "your friend has a thick skull. He'll recover in time, but with short-term effects."

48 hours. Not enough time for you to stay or leave.

"Can we see him? Right now?" Setting your expectations to the highest, you ask with a glimmer of hope and the doctor approves, minding you to turn down the lights in the room as Ben would likely be sensitive to it by the time he wakes. "A nurse will come by and check on him every once in a while as well."

You nod weakly, thanking him professionally as you gradually hang your head in disappointment. He wishes Ben a speedy recovery before turning on his heels, leaving you to it.

Lucy brings her short hair up in a pigtail, asking as she lifts up her share of the paper bags. "Are we going in now? I mean, the doc said we're able to." She vaguely points at the door of the room and you and Joe swap looks before deciding on it. You collect your items from the seats and draw in breaths as you follow suit, stepping into the room and being welcomed by the almost odorless whiff of paint and medicine; along with the light to moderate blow of the air conditioner.

As the door clicks close, you stand motionless yet internally trembling at the heartbreaking sight of Ben lying unresponsive, surrounded by various machines working to keep him alive. Flanking his bed are the heart monitor -fully functional- and a medical ventilator from which he is breathing from. He's hooked up to an IV bag with a breathing tube put into his mouth, his left arm is propped upon his abdomen but protected around a plaster and supported within a blue arm sling and lastly, his head is wrapped in a layer of roller bandage– the giveaway of his major injury.

"Y/N..." Joe cooing breaks you off from your vacant gaze but you hand him a forlorn eye as bring yourself to Ben's side, glancing over his limp body. He's taken quite a hit to have fractured his arm like this. His complexion didn't appear as livid as it is now and marking his bottom lip -which has lost that luscious red tint as well- is a small bruise, parted from his upper lip as he involuntarily breathes through the tube in his mouth. You don't hear his slow exhales but the normal rise and fall of his chest consoles a small part of you; the stable beeping of the heart monitor being the only occuring noise in the room. Concerned with how awfully quiet you've gone, Lucy and Joe give each other fitting looks as they share the same thought on the situation. As one of them begins to step close to ensure you're taking it well, you pipe up before them, your once honey-laced voice diminished to a monotone. "It's...not my fault."

"Of course, it's not," Lucy, being the one who has taken that step close, tenderly agrees but you add.

"It's not but it feels like it is."

Now Joe steps up next but stop as you add once more.

"And I told him I wanted to forget him and for him to do the same." Now some tears are inevitable.

"Y/N-"

"As impractical as it is to think about it now, but what if he does?" your hand has now hovered over him, the nerves of the pads of your fingers itching to skim themselves over his free hand, "I don't want to go. But I have to and he's still not gonna wake up by the time I leave."

His condition just yearns for your touch but you don't want to lay a hand on him just yet, out of the fear that you might hurt a small part of him.

Joe sighs softly as he puts his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them with ease. "Why don't you just email the institution about it? Tell them you're gonna have to delay because of an urgent matter."

"I can do that, but only a day after. I can't take long."

"Rami and Gwilym are on their way," Lucy reminds as she gets off her phone from messaging them, "with some food and water."

"None of us are burning the midnight oil then," Joe stretches his limbs and returns to the couch to take a moment to relax, eyes snapping wide as he remembers something. "By the way, Y/N. If you spilled your heart out to him earlier, did you include the bit where our relationship was all but pretend?"

Surely the stare you and Lucy are sharing towards him could render the atmosphere painful but you answer regardless of the topic, shaking your head as you turn your attention to Ben once more. "No. But he's bound to question it. That is if he remembers what happened."

Lucy rests her hand on her hip as she glances at the heart monitor, the waves tempting her eyes to follow them. "Doctor never implied anything about amnesia."

The three of you fall silent again with you locking your gaze at the man who didn't want to let you go. Who chased you down a busy highway knowing he'd bite the dust if he did and ended up saving you at the expense of his own well-being.

And life.

And his own soul.

He'll recover in a short period, yes. But when you had gently grazed your trembling hand over his bloodied head in the middle of the street, it was as if he was bound to never wake up. A visual you want to shake off for the sake of composure.

Joe and Lucy take notice of your stilled silence again, their expressions low-spirited. Taking small steps towards you, Lucy wraps her arms around your shoulders from behind and pulls out a certain object from her back pocket, slipping it to you. "Found this in the inner pocket of Ben's tainted blazer when the doctors gave his clothes to us."

You cast your gaze to what she's holding and hear your heart shatter at what it is. You slowly take it from her and sweep your thumb over it.

Ben's share of your Homecoming picture.

And behind it, the same date and continuation of what was written on your half.

You piece it in your mind and feel your eyes cloud with tears, a droplet making a small patter as it lands on the polaroid.

He kept it. In his blazer. He brought it along with him.

_I'm not going... anywhere at all. _

"But I am." You mutter as opposed to the words in your head. For as long as you love him and he doesn't in the way you do, distancing yourself is something that needs to be done to make sure you finally let go. You'd stick around but it would further fragment your soul.

Just in time to tear you from reaching your breakfing point, the door creaks open to two men and a red-haired woman, two of whom are grasping paper bags containing some food and water and one with an overwrought look, respectively.

Lucy leaves your side and walks over to Rami's, kissing his cheek and helping them unload their items on the coffee table. Gwilym gives the three of you, and Rosy who had followed in behind them, an individual hug– asking you about Ben's condition as he lays eyes on him.

You assure him of a smooth recovery and it unknots the lump of worry he's under.

"Oh, Ben, baby... " Breaks down Rosy, who whizzes past you to tear up over her injured fiance. She gazes down painfully at the man before her and delicately fondles his blanch cheek, eyes narrowed to the point where her face has contorted to a scowl which she throws directly at you. "This is all your fault. "

Your brows crease at her in absolute confusion. "What are you talking about?" Sensing that an altercation is about to take place, the rest stumble quiet in preparation for the worst. Joe readies himself to butt in in case it escalates further.

"What did you say to him?" She asks you in a form of a hiss.

"Nothing! I-"

"He chased you down! You must have said something that set him off!" Her demanding voice echoes off the walls, overlaying the beeping and whizzing of both the heart monitor and ventilator. You begin swearing to her that you didn't say anything of the sort but trail off as you realize that what you had actually said, was something that indeed hurt him.

You draw your lips between your teeth and clench your fist, unable to respond with the truth, fearing it might just fuel the fire.

"That's- that's not important now." You shake your head dismissively and turn around.

"It is. You led Ben out into the street, agitated."

"Rosy, please. Can we not talk about this now? We're squabbling in front of an unconscious man-"

"Okay girls. Our boy is out cold but that doesn't mean he can't hear, right?" Eager to quench the growing conflict, Gwilym slides in between the dangerous proximity you've put yourselves in and you huff an apology.

On the other hand, Rosy does the complete opposite. "No, Gwilym. He has been acting strange for weeks and to think tomorrow's supposed to be our wedding! And this is all because of her."

Gwilym turns to her firmly and tries calming - or rather shutting her up for the sake of the peace Ben needs to heal- her down. "We're not throwing fingers here. I know tomorrow's the day and you don't want to put him under pressure, right? I don't think he's going to succumb to waking up if this goes on."

Rami, Lucy and Joe have remained unbelievably quiet but are as keen as Gwilym to prevent something unnecessary as this. It's barely 3 am in the morning for the love of God and you're all in a hospital room. Sleeping patients could bang their fists on the walls from the other side any time.

You, on the other hand, have already made four steps towards the door, ready to leave the room to be alone with your thoughts for the night but you're unable to twist the knob as Rosy snaps once more with the hint, distressing with a clenched jaw.

She's unrelenting.

"Please Y/N, you're overstepping and frankly it's getting in the way of my relationship with Ben."

"You have no idea what I'm trying to do," You mumble in the most bitter of intonations for Rosy to get the message, your fingers clenching around the knob and producing a faint chink. "But he's my best friend. Let me be the person I've always been to him, " you whip your head at her -a stare you're certain could equal to a pelted javelin- and draw your brows together, pleading on account of choosing to be present in a crisis such as this, " he's all yours anyway."

With a strong swing of the door, you march angrily out of the room, making your way outside the building to blow off steam – the smooth rub of the polaroid between your fingers surrendering you to tears.

You give yourself exactly 48 hours to stay before heading back to England to board your flight for Spain.

10 hours

Ben's accident was a clean hit-and-run. Apparently some bystanders had snapped a shot of the license plate the moment the car slowed down and accelerated afterwards. It was then delivered to the police to be given further investigation. His parents have flown in from England to visit him and you badly wish you could greet them but some things are just too heavy to do right now. Back at the hospital, Ben's been given hourly checks and assessments, with each desired result constant. He's not responsive to any physical contact but the doctor is certain that he can perceive sound and sound only. His body is asleep but his mind isn't.

The rest will be visiting him at dusk while you're going in late with Joe.

After sending an email to the university about your 24-hour delay, you spend the entire day just waiting to go down there and be by his side. Regarding your solitude in the hotel room, Rami had Lucy stay in with him for the meantime and being initially worried about leaving you, she had asked for your permission to which you said yes to.

Sometimes in the day, you can't hold back a few tears at the flashing memory.

17 hours

Loving can hurt

Standing in front of the private room, you clutch the collar of your shirt anxiously, hearing incoherent but distinct murmurs on the other side of the door. Joe looks down at you and squeezes your hand lightly to relieve you of pressure. He knows how much this is affecting you, and though not visually shown, he's taking it hard too.

Loving can hurt sometimes

The door opens to a couple you've familiarized yourself with for so long. Ben's parents.

"Y-Y/N?" Says his mum, unable to believe that it's you standing before her. Your breath hitches as you grin sadly, being pulled into her embrace. "It's been so long."

"It has, Mrs. Jones."

Joe shakes hands with his father as he introduces himself politely. Mr. Jones greets you in with a light hug as well and you can't help but spill a few tears.

But it's the only thing that I know

They give you full access to the room

as they themselves have to leave for a while, thereby trusting their son to his closest circle. Knowing how tight you and Ben are, they give you much of their trust on this one and you'd want nothing more than to make sure he'll wake up without any further complications. They obviously know about Rosy but witnessing how long you and Ben have grown on one another, they trust you the most.

They bid you and Joe goodbye, leaving access to the room exclusive.

When it gets hard

As you begin closing the door behind Joe, he insists that you have some alone time with him. Though it may feel weird but he feels as if you need this the most with time going against you now. Touched by his thoughtfulness, you give him a quick embrace before he leaves you to it.

You know it can get hard sometimes

The sight before you hasn't changed that much.

The same monitors and the same person.

Same feeling.

However you'd rather take everything

in a different light and situation.

You fiddle with your fingers as you accumulate the strength to swallow the lump in your throat, drawing yourself to his side. The mild, incessant whirring of both the air conditioner and ventilator occupies the silent atmosphere along with the steady beeps of the heart monitor, blocking the huge gulp you've taken.

It is the only thing that makes us feel alive

Slowly taking a seat on the stool positioned beside the guard rails of the bed, you let out a quavery sigh– the byproduct of all the tearing up you've done today. You take his free hand in yours and stroke his pale knuckles with your thumb, leaning in to plant a kiss on it.

We keep this love in a photograph

"Ben? It's me. Can you hear me?"

One-sided conversations are helpful according to experts and this is the perfect opportunity to tell him everything without having to bear the flits in his expression.

But you beg to differ.

We made these memories for ourselves. Where our eyes are never closing.

You continue, allowing every crack and quiver to manifest in your voice no matter how relatively pathetic it will make you sound.

"Ben, please, you gotta wake up. You're leaving us in a hot mess here, bud. Hell, you gave your parents the scare of their lives. I know I'm starting off rough with this, but it's all cause you had to leap in like that. But then again, it was- it was not your fault. This- all of this is not your doing. I should've been more careful on that road. Would've been better if I had cut back on the melodrama, huh? Haha..."

You lick your lips and resume, owning the patters your tears have soiled on the tiled floor.

Hearts are never broken

"I'm sorry if I had to hide it all from you, " you build it up slowly, tears tenacious to leave your eyes, "it's just that I was afraid you'd soon forget me once you've married and I wouldn't be part of your life anymore. To make matters worse, I have always loved you, Ben. On every level and aspect, I still do. Sticking around to see you spend the rest of your life with someone else when that feeling is still present is just toxic. And to think you're supposed to be wedded tomorrow, "you sniffle, taking a few seconds to form your following words, "that's why it would be easier if we- if we...oh god, I'm actually much more of an actor than you are..." You want to chuckle for it, but nothing resembling a chuckle mopes out of your mouth. Just...short breaths.

Time is forever frozen-

"But I truly am happy for you. I really am. But I can't be happy myself when you've taken a huge portion of my heart and I'm just...I just want to make sure nothing will ever ruin your happiness," You close the distance between you and the bed, your hot tears dripping on his arm sling, the cloth absorbing it. You're really taking advantage of his inability to respond.

"I'm s-sorry, Ben. I don't know how long I can stay by your side like this. Literally like this. But as long as I am able, " you lower your head onto his chest, now shamelessly sobbing like you haven't broken down in centuries, squeezing his free but chilly hand like it's the only thing that'll give you warmth tonight, "I'm sorry if I'm going somewhere."

And still

Despite promising to give you a moment alone with him, Joe -having recurring, inquisitive tendencies- has acted as opposed to his promise and eavesdropped on your unrequited talk due to having to wait too long, not realizing that after hearing all your words exit in sobs, you've fallen asleep with your head on Ben's chest.

Joe glances around the hall before budging the door open, careful not to disturb you as he sees you out cold next to him. He presses his lips into a hard line and chuckles quietly, amused as he grabs an available sheet from the couch and drapes it over you. The moment he notices a tear droplet stuck in the corner of your eye, he wipes it away with his thumb, sighing profoundly.

"Rosy's gonna flip when she gets back and sees this. So, " Joe, mumbling on his own, tumbles back down onto the couch and kicks back, "I'll be here just in case."

20 hours

So you can keep me

A nurse opens the door with a tray and clipboard in hand to conduct an hourly assessment of his condition, not minding your head placement on his chest. He's still unresponsive to anything external.

I**nside the pocket of your ripped jeans **

As the test ends and the nurse closes the door on her way out, his finger twitches.

30 hours

Holding me closer til our eyes meet

Joe wakes you up softly with a bowl of soup in hand– something he bought from the cafeteria upstairs. You lift your heavy head from its recent spot and blink your bleary eyes at him, giving away a wry smile and telling him you'll eat later on.

You won't ever be alone

"By they way, this slipped from your pocket." He slips something off the table and hands it to you with a knowing look, that something being the dual polaroids you've taped together the other night. You take it from him deliberately and turn your head to Ben, before staring down at the joint pictures, nostalgia ever so sudden like a whiplash.

Wait for me to come home

35 hours

Loving can heal

Rami and Lucy have stopped by to visit and take your 'shifts' considering Rosy is still absent and you and Joe had to return to the hotel to change. The attending physician and a nurse come in to replace his breathing tube with a nasal cannula, since the assessment done hours prior has shown that he's already capable of breathing on his own.

39 hours

Loving can mend your soul

"Funny how today is supposed to be his wedding but we're getting a funeral instead. " Morbidly comments one of Ben's visitors and closest friends. Every single person in the room who has come by to visit Ben shoots a death glare at him for making that joke within a two feet radius of Ben who is sure to give him a bop on the head the minute he gets up.

41 hours

And it's the only thing that I know

Meanwhile Rosy had spent the entire day rescheduling the wedding and the once volatile reactions she's had do a 360 and is brought down to one, constant look as she bumps into you on your way to Ben's room.

42 hours

I swear it will get easier, remember that with every piece of you

You both don't say a word until you've settled down on the couch as she strays to Ben's side and wipes the glistening speckle of sweat on his cheek with her thumb, the silence coming to a close as you pry the words out of your mouth.

"Rosy, believe me. I have never harboured the thought of coming between you both. I'm only ever there for him as a friend."

And it's the only thing we take with us when we die

Giving you an impassive eye, she ignores your words entirely and turns her attention back to her fiance.

45 hours

We keep this love in a photograph

You don't leave the room with the hours progressing to the moment he's timed to wake up. A lot of people have paid him a visit, cracking jokes and talking to him notwithstanding the fact that he's utterly unresponsive. They've done all they can to lighten the mood in the room, hoping all their antics and bliss would lure Ben out of his induced insensibility. But he's nowhere near the edge.

We made these memories for ourselves

47 hours

With Rosy snuggled up against his side, Ben retains immobility and it's a sight you're not used to since he's one of the most fidgety arseholes who's ever graced your life. You know you'd be bombed by her if you do this with her close by, but you had given yourself exactly 48 hours to stay before heading back.

Where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken

And so you wander to the opposite side of the bed and peer at down your wristwatch for the time.

Time's forever frozen and still.

48 hours

"Ben?" You whimper close to his ear. He's not responding. You know he wouldn't wake up that quickly at the strike of the exact hour but you're impatient to say goodbye to him with his forest, green eyes on full display and wandering around your (Y/E/C) ones to bolster you up.

"Hey." You coax into his ear again, still no response. The racing beat of your heart has matched the beeps of the heart monitor. His heart beats. The similarity is sketchy but nearly symbolic. You're leaving in the morning and he's not up and lively for you to fervently crush in a parting embrace.

"Bud, please. I can't force you to wake up but I'm leaving tomorrow. You have to help me...here." At this point, though how eager you are to, you can't let some tears stream down from your eyes since the possibility of Rosy waking up to you catching sobs is feasible, but Ben's involuntary stillness is not helping you with that ordeal. Losing all hope for a night, you straighten up and collect your things from the couch, deciding to come back one last time tomorrow prior to your departure.

You quickly open the door to the attending physician who's about to step in to take physical tests but you whisk past him without taking a second look.

Easy to say you didn't have a good night sleep with all the stresses weighing down on you that night. Either you hyperventilated in your slumber or remained asleep but with tears seeping from your half-closed eyes.

You've sent Lucy a text in the early hours of the morning notifying her about your departure today. She hasn't responded yet.

"Just a 24-hour delay? Are they that heartless?" Leaning on the door frame of your hotel room with a bitten donut in his hand, Joe questions as he watches you prop your luggage against the open door. "I had to reschedule the flight thrice last month, this one being the latest. It's only reasonable," You huff as a matter of fact, fixing the scarf that has dangled loose around your neck and staring into oblivion barely a second after going tight-lipped.

Finishing his donut, Joe pokes you out of your momentary trance. "You alright?"

You shake your head.

"I don't even know if he's awake now. It's past 48 hours and what if he-"

"There's only one way to find out," appeasing your elevating worry, he grabs you by the shoulders and looks you square in the eye, silently guaranteeing you of his recovery.

Since he'll be driving you to the airport, your things are neatly stored in the confines of the backseat but of course, you have to see Ben one last time, setting aside all the excruciating anticipation.

You scurry into the entrance with Joe by your side, out of breaths by the time you arrive at the door of Ben's room. Taking precautionary measures, you knock firmly on the surface expecting someone or Rosy to answer. But nada. You swap some looks with Joe and twist the knob gently, finding the room free of visitors and medical staff. Perhaps they've assessed him an hour prior.

"No one's around."

As you begin slipping a foot through the ajar door, Joe puts a hand on your shoulder, stopping you mid-step.

"Lucy's on her way."

His update on her reply makes you smile and you continue into the room, seeing the curtains that had blocked the sunlight for two days cast aside, spilling some sunlight into the room.

You take small, wobbly steps along the floor, unable to accept that until now he hasn't fluttered open those orbs you loved staring into so much. You suddenly fear that a complication has risen and is causing his extended unconsciousness but that must be the least of your worries.

So you can keep me, inside the pocket of your ripped jeans

He has to hear you. He has to. He has to.

He's gone really pasty. Dark circles under his eyes despite being asleep for two days. He has grown a scruff and looks painfully unruly, but still a face of an angel. You crouch and take his free hand in yours– careful not to disconnect the IV tube from his wrist, caressing it and drawing in a sharp inhale to free yourself of any doubt to speak up. "Ben. It's Y/N. You're scaring us, you know. The doctor said you'd wake up earlier but why? Why haven't you? What are you doing in there?"

This being the end of the long haul for you, you're not forcing anything at bay anymore– not your tears, not your peeves and certainly not your feelings. You interlace your fingers around his and kiss the back of his hand, your cheeks growing scarlet and wet with tears.

Holding me closer til our eyes meet, you won't ever be alone.

You get up from crouching and throw your arm around him in defiance of the possibility of applying a lot of pressure on his chest. It feels so different holding him that way. For the time you have left, an overly emotional, one-sided conversation should make up for the lost times that would've been great for those.

And if you hurt me, that's okay baby only words bleed

"You really kept that Homecoming picture, didn't you? Coincidentally I did too, just forgot it was there as well. But I pieced it back, by the way. Ironic that we both made a promise on those polaroids the night before graduation. I-I have it with me here, just so you know. Just thought I'd bring it out since...I'll be going soon." You pull the pictures out from the pocket of your coat with trembling hands, eager to wave them in front of him. Once out, you place it on the bedside table for him to keep once more but with your share of the picture.

Inside these pages you just hold me, and I won't ever let you go

You lay your forehead on his, your tears dripping onto his closed lids as you sob his name to get him to wake, at the same time feeling his soft exhales brush against your chin. " I told you I'd be strong and I'm trying to be. I know it sounds like a selfish thing to do but you have to trust me on this one. I want to move on, Ben. You're bound to be wedded soon and have a family of your own. I want to be there for that. I want to be that aunt who'll spoil your kids and make them fight you for the craziest demands. Those things I'd gladly do...if I wasn't this hopeless for you," Little by little, your voice comes out as broken whisper– losing your strength to add any more things to say in the process. On the other side of the door, Joe is finally joined by Lucy who has arrived not a minute late and they can't help but tear up a little at how uncontrolled your crying is slowly turning out, it's become audible enough to be heard from outside.

"Ben, buddy. Come on." He huffs against the hardwood as he and Lucy are tempted to barge in.

Burying your face into the exposed column of his neck with your arm slackening from being draped across his chest, you utter a voiceless but heartfelt statement.

Wait for me to come home

"I love you, Benjamin Jones. Be happy for me."

Your words hang thinly in the fragile air as you pull away from that proximity and leave a long kiss on his forehead, walking back sadly to the door with your hand outstretched ready to grab ahold of the knob.

"H-how could I be..."

The words released sound like a mere memory resonating in your head but you are proved wrong once you turn around.

#borhap #queen #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #borhap cast #borhap cast x reader #borhap imagine #ben hardy fanfic #imagine #fanfic

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 5 years ago

Text

His Smile Will Keep You Safe - Chapter Two

Warnings: biphobia (I guess), mentions of emotional abuse

Word Count: 5 206

Even if you did not want to admit it, you were still shaky from the unexpected encounter with Lars when you were finally home. The whole bus ride over you had fought an internal battle over what to do.

Lars had hurt you in ways no one had ever before, and you had cut all strings to him, for good. But now, going on a several weeks-long tour with him, stuck in a bus every day, being unable to get away?

Yet on the other hand, this was your dream. Going on tour with a band, no matter how big, had been your dream for over ten years now, and you would not allow Lars to ruin this for you. You had promised to never let him ruin anything else for you ever again.

With a sigh you sat down on your bed, elbows resting on your folded legs, face buried in your hands. Lars and you went back a long time. First you had met in high school, and somehow you had ended up going to the same college. That’s where you had fallen in love with him.

Retrospectively, it was still a mystery to you, how you had been able to be in love with someone like him. His mood swings were legendary, he was far too convinced of himself, the first few months you had been in the same college classes, he had managed to completely ignore you, and when he said something to you it had been degrading.

Yet you had been in love. And over time he started to warm up to you. He got friendly, went out of his way for you, turned into the perfect gentleman. And by the beginning of the second year of college you had started dating. You had been as happy as never before in your life, especially considering the ongoing battle with your mental health since you were about fifteen.

For the first time in years, it had felt as if everything was working out the way it was supposed to be. You had a boyfriend who you were in love with, had friends, and even won a photography contest.

But by the end of the second year, it seemed as if luck had left you. Your mental health declined, and soon afterwards you started seeing a therapist, knowing that even with their help the ultimate breakdown was unavoidable. Lars in the meantime seemed to be thriving. He went out almost every night, seemed happier than ever, and spent less and less time with you. In the state of your worsening illness, it made sense to you that he did not want to be around you.

Looking back on it, you should have known earlier that he was cheating. Needless to say that you were beyond heartbroken, when you came into the lecture room, and found him making out with another girl.

He swore he still loved you, that it would never happen again, that he had no idea why he had done it, and being the gentlehearted person you were, you gave him a second chance. This event made you spiral downwards quickly nonetheless. And while you were in hospital to find a good combination of meds to make you feel better, Lars graduated college.

And cheated again.

You had still no clue where you had taken the energy from to throw him out this quickly, and break up with him so cleanly, after you had found out that for months he had had a second girlfriend at the side, especially since you had just been released from the hospital, but you did.

Within half a day you had cleaned your apartment of things he had given to you, stuff he had left over at your place, and all the pictures you had taken together.

But it left scares. The self-esteem of a depressed person is in the gutter anyway, and having the person you thought was the one for life cheat on you did not make anything better at all.

But you recovered. You got better. You fought. Sometimes, when you were about to give up, you remembered that you would not give Lars the satisfaction of knowing that he had destroyed your life, so you kept fighting. You finished college, started getting practical experience, got this job, and now even the offer to go on a tour with bands! Maybe your mental health still was not always perfect, but with the meds, and the occasional meetings with your therapist, the coping mechanisms you had learned, and the support of your family and your boss (who always was very understanding whenever you needed a week off) you were leading a good life. And Lars would not take that away from you, he would not take this tour away from you.

Having come to that conclusion, you took a deep breath, and got up from your bed. Putting on your favourite Beatles album, you started searching for a small suitcase, and began packing.

Deciding on what to pack turned out easier than you had imagined. Thanks to the detailed weather description in the different states this time of the year, you quickly had assembled a small collection of clothes, backed up with shirts and trousers to change into, if the first set got dirty.

Shampoo and shower gel were quickly packed, since you had gotten some sort of solid shampoo, resembling a soap bar, which you were excited to try out. Traveling toothbrush, and toothpaste, body lotion and some facial cream, plus the your favourite basics for make-up, and two pair of different shoes to match cold and hot weather, and the packing was completed.

By now the day had passed, and the sun sunk behind the houses of your neighbourhood, allowing darkness to take its place.

You were still shaking with excitement for the coming day, yet the knowledge of having to spend the following weeks on minimal space with your ex-boyfriend, who happened to be the first and last ex-boyfriend, and therefore the only one, was making you feel sick.

When the clock finally showed 10pm, you decided to go to bed after a quick dinner. Putting an alarm for the following day, you fell asleep surprisingly quickly, even though your mind was still racing, filled with all the amazing things that might happen in the following two months.

~*~

You woke up shortly before your alarm clock was able to tear you out of your sleep. For a moment you wondered where this excited tickling came from that flooded your body the second you opened your eyes, but you immediately remembered. You would go on a tour, as photographer for a band. You would get to travel the country, meet new people, get to know lots and lots of different places.

Never before in your life had you been out of bed quicker. Even though you still had two hours before you had to leave the house, you hurried downstairs into the kitchen. Thankfully your fridge was almost empty, which in any other situation would have been worrisome, but, since you would not be home for a fair while, there was no food that you would have to throw away. Out of the yogurt and the milk you still had, mixed with oatmeal and fruit, you quickly prepared a delicious breakfast that would surely keep you filled for several hours.

After you had eaten, you did the dishes and took a shower. Too unmotivated to blow dry your hair, you dried it off with a towel and pulled the long hair into a ponytail, which resulted in perfectly showing off your shaved side. You still absolutely loved the new haircut. No matter what anyone had to say, for the first time in a long time you felt like yourself. Remembering you had already prepared the clothes for the journey you walked back into your bedroom and dressed into some black jeans, paired off with an old, white band shirt and a hoody.

With still plenty of time left, you carefully applied a little bit of make-up. You did not want to overdo it, since you would probably spend the entire day in a car, but a tinted day cream, and a tiny bit of mascara always made you feel more comfortable. Adding to that was the softly red coloured lip balm you had applied.

Once you were finished, you started making a tour through the house. You started in the bathroom, making sure all the tabs were closed properly. Walking through the rooms you unplugged the electronics, and put the roller shutter halfway down, so it would not be as easy to tell if someone was home. A quick look on your watch told you that you had just enough time to go over to the neighbours to ask them to check your mailbox once a week, so you did that.

And then the journey began.

For one last time you checked if you really had all your documents, your ID, your keys to lock the flat, your money, and your credit card, then you grabbed your suitcase and the bag with the camera, and left the flat, locking the door behind yourself.

With the bus being on time, you arrived at the address, you had been given the day prior, several minutes early. A huge touring bus was standing in front to the house, and Lucas was just in the process of carrying a case, probably containing an instrument, to it.

“Good morning,” you greeted the man, who today had gone without his buns.

“(Y/n), good morning,” he replied, shoving the case into the baggage department, and making sure it was standing securely, “you’re early!”

“9am, wasn’t that the deal,” you asked, handing Lucas the bag with the camera which he was holding his arm out for.

“Yeah, just wouldn’t expect anyone to be on time. The others definitely aren’t. Except for Dallon and Ryan. Just leave the suitcase, and go inside to get to know them,” he suggested.

Handing him your suitcase, you followed his advice, and climbed up the few steps towards the door, which was standing open. The hallway still smelled of plastic, but now there were cases with instruments standing on the floor, making walking almost a little dangerous, especially with how scared you were to accidently fall onto one of the cases and break something. From upstairs you heard the voices of two men, so you followed the sound up the stairs. Here were a couple of suitcases, which probably belonged to the men talking, and to Lucas.

You found the two in the same room in which the meeting had taken place yesterday. The first man you saw was exceptionally tall. His brown hair was styled to stand up on the front and he was wearing a black jacket, paired with a ripped jeans. The other man was standing with his back to you, doodling on the whiteboard. He had blue hair, shaved at one side, longer on the other, just like yours. He too wore jeans, and a red white checked shirt.

Nervously you cleared your throat, causing the two men to spin around to you. The tall one, who had been leaning against the table, had blue eyes, that took you in with surprise, but your attention was entirely fixed on the man at the board. He had turned around as well, and when his chocolate brown eyes found your face, he furrowed his eyes in confusion.

“Hey,” you greeted awkwardly, as you recognized the man who had helped you up yesterday, after you had been pushed to the ground in the rain.

“So we meet again,” the brown eyed one chuckled, his face now showing off a beautiful smile, “how’s the hand?”

The other one turned to him.

“You know each other?”

“Yeah, I had a… let’s call it accident, yesterday, and he was kind enough to help,” you explained, burying your hands in the pockets of your trousers, “Hand’s fine by the way, thanks.”

“That’s good,” the brown eyed man smiled softly.

“I’m Dallon,” the tall one introduced, “I play bass and sing. I guess you’re the photographer?”

“Yup,” you nodded, nervously bouncing on your heels, “Got the job just yesterday.”

“Yeah, Lucas told us. Sorry we didn’t meet any earlier, we just had to do some recording before we’re on the road for the next weeks,” Dallon explained. “I guess you know each other already.”

“Not really,” his bandmate admitted, “I’m Ryan, I play drums.”

“(Y/n), nice to meet you.”

“Dallon, Ryan! Suitcases!” Lucas’ voice boomed through the building.

“That’s our signal,” Dallon chuckled, and walked past you into the corridor, picking up two of the suitcases.

“Can I help something,” you asked, following him, Ryan right behind you.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dallon assured, but that did not stop you from picking up the last suitcase that was left in the corridor after Ryan also had taken two, and carrying it down the stairs.

In the hallway the cases had disappeared by now, and outside the door, Jay, Charlie, Luis and Lisa were waiting on the pavement next to the bus. Lucas helped you lifting the last suitcase into it, then walked over to the baggage department, and threw the door shut.

“Only one missing now is light guy,” announced Bill, who appeared in the door, pulling it closed and locking it.

“As always,” Ryan mumbled.

Much to your amusement he did not seem too fond of Lars, which was at least a little bit of reassurance.

“His problem, he’s the one who doesn’t get the info,” Lucas decided, “So, as you all know, first stop on the tour is Phoenix tomorrow. We’ll have a drive of about ten hours ahead of us, meaning we should be there by evening, if things go as planned. Any questions?”

Since nobody spoke up, Lucas reached for the handle of the door into the bus, and opened it.

Following the other crew members on board, your eyes widened at the sight. Facing the door stood a small sofa. Next to it was a door, probably leading into the cabin for the driver; and next to that stood another sofa. Turning to your left, you discovered a small kitchen, fully equipped with a fridge, a tiny stove and a small sink. Next to the fridge, facing the sofas, a table with two benches was installed, offering enough space for about four people to sit. Overwhelmed by the sight, you had stopped in your steps, and now hurried to keep up with the others who had walked past the kitchen.

You discovered that there were two tiny bathrooms, one on each side of the bus, and walking through another door, you found yourself surrounded by bunk beds. In total there were twelve, always three on top of each other, on both sides of the bus and in two rows. Due to the nine people in the small space it was very crowded and you quickly stepped aside, as Luis tried throwing his backpack into one of the upper bunks.

“Where do you want to sleep,” Dallon asked, looking over the other people directly at you.

He must have noticed that you felt slightly lost, so he tried to include you.

Helplessly you shrugged.

“You like sleeping high up,” he inquired, earning another shrug from you, “Well, in this case…”

With just one quick movement he basically threw your suitcase into another of the highest bunk beds.

“Congrats, now it’s your job to guard Ryan an me,” he grinned and winked at you, before he sat down on the lowest bunk bed underneath yours, and started opening his suitcase.

After watching all the other doing pretty much the same, you decided to also unpack. Skilfully you manoeuvred yourself to the ladder that lead to your bed, and climbed up. The bunk bed was not very big, and just high enough for you to sit upright. On one end of the matrass was a shelf for the things you had brought, on the other end you found the tiniest wardrobe you had ever seen. Grinning you opened your suitcase and unpacked your all your things, including the hygiene products, into the small wardrobe.

All the others seemed to be finished at about the same time as you, because the chattering started picking up slowly. Curiously you poked your head out of your bunk, interested in seeing who was sleeping where.

As far as you could tell, Luis had gotten the other highest bunk on your side of the bus. Underneath him, Jay and Charlie had claimed their beds. The two highest bunks on the other side of the bus were empty, but in the middle one, facing the opening band, Lisa had unpacked her things, and in the other one Bill was about to put a couple of books into the shelf. Lucas was nowhere in sight, but you guessed he was sleeping underneath of Bill. And last but not least, Ryan and Dallon had chosen the bunks under you; Ryan in the middle, and Dallon closest to the floor.

“Oh, light guy’s here,” Bill suddenly noticed.

You felt your body going into panic mode as you turned your head, and locked eyes with your former boyfriend. He noticed you too, but pretended not to know you, as he threw his bag onto the bed beneath Lisa.

Releasing the breath you had been holding, you looked down and found Ryan grinning up at you.

“Everything alright up there,” he asked happily, obviously glad that the tour was about to begin.

“Yeah, pretty much,” you agreed, grinning back at him.

“Lucas said you take the most amazing pictures of concerts, how come you haven’t been signed to a label yet,” he wondered, blowing a strand of his blue hair out of his eyes.

“Probably because I never tried,” you confessed with a shrug, making him gasp quietly, “Well, it would take confidence to say my pictures are any good, and I sort of lack said confidence most of the time.”

“Well, well, if that’s the only problem, then let’s make sure you build this confidence during the tour,” Ryan suggested, and then disappeared inside his bunk with a grin and a wink towards you.

You sat back up properly again, and were suddenly faced with Lars. He stood closer to you than you liked, his grey eyes boring into you, and for a split second you had the feeling he was looking into the bottom of your soul, just like he always used to do in college.

“Now what are you doing here,” he asked casually.

Oh, he wanted to play the ‘I pretend not to know what happened between us’-game? Alright, probably better than fighting. You just had the slight feeling that it would not stay at that.

“Uhm, Lucas hired me. As a photographer” you explained, secretly a little proud of it. “And you?”

“I’m doing the lights,” he answered immediately, “so, how are things?”

“Good, things are good.”

You really did not feel like giving him too much insight into your life. He had ripped your heart out, admittedly years ago, but you did not want to offer the painfully stuck-together pieces of it for him to rip them apart again.

“Now that’s a lot of detail,” he chuckled. “Tell me more?”

“What kind of details,” you wondered, already having a feeling what he would ask for. “I have a great job, which I love very much. I started doing aikido a few years back, I got my own flat…”

“And do you have a boyfriend?”

There it was. Of course he would ask that.

“Why not a girlfriend,” you retorted, having already been prepared for this question.

You were about to turn away, but he spoke up again.

“Oh come on, we both know you’re not into girls. As much as you were into me, you can’t be into girls,” he spoke, his voice taking the same snarly sound which you remembered so vividly.

So it had not been just your imagination.

“You haven’t seen me in years, you know nothing about me,” you hissed, causing his eyes to widen in surprise.

But the initial surprise quickly disappeared and got replaced by anger, the same type of anger he always got into when you dared disagreeing with him.

He was about to shoot an evil comment your way, maybe worse, when all of a sudden Ryan’s head popped into your view. He must have gotten out of his bunk without you noticing, and now was standing next to Lars, as if he did not notice his aggressive posture. And yet you were pretty certain that he had a good idea about what was happening.

“You two know each other,” he asked innocently, his brown eyes curiously flickering from Lars over to you, where their expression changed slightly, and they took a short look of worry, before pretending this curiosity again.

Even though you had always considered Lars tall, and Ryan was by far not as tall as Dallon, Ryan still was about two inches taller than Lars. Realizing that he had no way of approaching you now without getting into trouble, Lars just shook his head, and left the bunk area, leaving Ryan and you as the only two behind.

“You alright,” he asked.

For some reason it seemed always to be Ryan who had to help you. You hoped to be able to return the favour one day.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, dangling your legs off the bed.

“You two got history,” Ryan wondered, trying not to sound too interested.

“A little. We- we used to date, back in college. That was years ago,” you admitted, “I guess a part of me will never get rid of the insecurity he caused in me.”

Ryan was about to ask what you meant, but in just that moment the motor of the heavy bus awoke to life, causing the floor to vibrate.

“Maybe we should join the others,” he suggested instead, and when you nodded, he helped you off the bed.

The warmth of his hands against yours felt so different from what you had once known from Lars. Lars’s hands had always been cool and a little moist, but Ryan’s hands were warm and dry. You tried not to give this realization a second thought, and instead murmured a thank you to Ryan, before walking out into the kitchen, closely followed by him.

~*~

The drive was, as expected, long. Through the windows of the bus you watched the landscape fly by. Never before in your life had you ridden on a vehicle for such a long time.

Suddenly you felt very small and inexperienced. All of the people on the bus with you had travelled far beyond the state borders, and you? The only time you had left the outskirts of Salt Lake City, it had been for a school trip to a farm.

Now the bus was racing past unknown mountains in the distance, and past citied you had only heard the name of. Slowly you began to realize the scale of the state you lived in, and knowing that Utah was only one of fifty… the size of the country seemed unimaginable to you.

You had lost the feeling of time, when suddenly somebody sat down next to you, and tore you out of your trance.

“Hey,” Lisa greeted gently. Her brown eyes flickered to the window and back to you, “the landscape’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nodded; your throat seemed to have dried out while you had marvelled at the world outside the city.

“Its’s so vast,” you agreed, turning you head back to the window, your eyes following the mountain tops at the horizon.

“You haven’t been out of the city often,” Lisa guessed, and again you nodded.

“Never had a reason to,” you explained, “I think… I mean I knew how big the country is, but- I feel like I finally understand how much change there can be within a hundred miles.”

“It can be overwhelming,” she agreed.

For a while the two of you sat in silence. A part of your brain registered that she smelled faintly of roses, and it made you smile. She seemed like a cute girl, friendly, innocent. Wearing this flowery perfume matched her perfectly.

Outside, you passed fields and farms, small forests that engulfed the high way, and in the distance the mountains continued spiking into the sky. You had believed that the drive might be boring, but you were too fascinated by the new sceneries that presented themselves to you every second to even participate in one of the conversations that were going on.

Only when Lisa next to you quietly sighed, you turned your attention back to her.

“You okay,” you asked, scrutinizing her worriedly.

“I’m fine,” she replied, but you could tell there was something on her mind.

Her chin was resting in her hand, supporting her head while her elbows were sitting on the table, as if she was following a boring lesson in school. Your eyes followed the direction she was looking into, and found Jay, who was sitting on the sofa next to the door to the driver’s cabin. Realization dawned on you, and you could not help the little smile that tucked on your lips.

“Jay, hm?”

Shocked she turned her head to look at you with wide, brown eyes.

“Is it that obvious,” she asked concerned, and you giggled.

“I know this kind of look, trust me,” you shrugged, “so, tell me. Is there something between the two of you?”

“Ha, I wish,” Lisa groaned, “I don’t think he even knows I exist. All the girls love him, honestly how couldn’t they? And he’s so witty and kind and clever…”

You rolled your eyes in amusement; oh yeah, you knew this feeling only too well. This sort of infatuation was what you had felt for Lars, and in your experience this sort of irrational attraction to another human only caused pain in the end.

But you did not say it. It did not seem appropriate. After all, the two of you had just met yesterday, and while you were the only two women on the bus, which made you somewhat of conspirators, you felt like you would overstep your boundaries with such a comment.

Around noon the bus stopped at a gas station. The air outside was hot and dry, and yet it was nice to feel solid ground under your feet again. You stretched your arms over your head, and yawned sleepily. The warm weather did not necessarily invite for moving around much, yet you decided on walking around for a bit.

Dallon, Luis, Charlie and Bill walked into the gas station to buy some snacks while Lucas started refilling the tank of the bus. Lisa was lingering around in the shadow of the bus, trying to get some fresh air. Looking around further, you found Jay igniting a cigarette several feet away from the station, and Ryan was, just like you walking around aimlessly, trying to revive his legs. Lars was nowhere in sight.

You really wondered how things would go on with Lars. Under absolutely no circumstances whatsoever you planned on ever getting back together with him. He had hurt you enough for a lifetime; you would not give him a second chance to do this again. But it did not seem like he had the same plans. The questions he had asked you on the bus earlier made you feel uncomfortable, and you wondered what he would have done, had it not been for Ryan interfering.

Slowly you started to sweat in the heat of the sun, yet you refused to go back onto the bus. The limited space would start feeling restricting soon enough, and you were not in the mood to be alone with Lars, so you waited in the shadow of the gas station, until Luis and Dallon walked back outside, both holding a bottle of cooled mineral water.

“So,” Dallon asked, turning to you once he had spotted you standing by the side of the building, “tell us a little bit about yourself.”

Nervously you shuffled your feet through the dust.

“Not much to tell there, I’m a rather dull person,” you excused, making Luis raise his eyebrows.

“Your haircut says something different,” he told you, making you smile shyly.

“Thanks, it’s just something I’ve wanted to try out for a long time,” you admitted.

“See, that’s already valuable information, you always tried to fit in, and finally got the courage to do more of what you like,” Dallon grinned.

“If you say so,” you shrugged, “anything else you want to know?”

“Why did you decide on doing photography,” Luis immediately asked.

From the corner of your eye you noticed that Ryan had stopped his pacing in front of the gas station. Instead he had turned towards the group, and was listening in from several meters away.

For a moment you hesitated. Would they judge you if you told them you had always wanted to take pictures of bands, capturing the energy, the music, the beat of the concerts? Why should they though?

“When I first got into music as a teenager, there were rarely good pictures of concerts to be found anywhere. So I sort of decided that I wanted to change that. Not just document a person’s face, or do a close-up of someone playing the guitar, but really transfer the vibe of the concert, the emotions of the music, through a picture to someone who hadn’t seen it live.”

When you stopped talking the men looked down at you, clear awe written into their faces.

“That sounds like one hell of a goal,” Luis finally stuttered out, and Dallon nodded.

“With such intentions, it is no surprise your work is this good.”

“Have you seen some pics,” you asked, suddenly feeling nervous. You had not expected anyone but Lucas to be familiar with your work.

“Lucas showed Ryan and me a few photos from the website,” Dallon explained.

Your conversation got interrupted by the tour manager, who called everyone back to the bus so you could continue your journey. Since you felt tired from all the exciting changes so far, you decided to take a nap.

You crawled into your bunk bed, climbing past Ryan’s bunk which had small curtains drawn in front of it, and settled in your own bed. Pulling your own curtains closed as well, you engulfed yourself in the little, precious private space. Since the ceiling was so close above you, it felt like the bunk bed was a cosy, little cave.

Lying down on your side, you pulled your knees to your chest. Just now you noticed that there was a small, tinted window which allowed you to look outside. Underneath you the bus awoke to life once more, and you watched the landscape pass by again. It felt strange, lying in a moving vehicle, but it sparked a feeling of adventure inside of you. And before you even knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Chapter Three

#ryan seaman x reader #ryan seaman x reader fluff #ryan seaman fluff #ryan seaman mood board #Ryan Seaman #fanfiction #fanfic #ryan seaman imagine #idkhow #I don't know how but they found me #his smile will keep you safe #chapter two #multi chapter #ryan seaman multi chapter story

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rantingstories · 6 years ago

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I woke up at 5am, drove to a local hill and read my book. How did it affect my day?

I use to wake up at 7am, eat straight away, sleep for half an hour and be late for work

Hellewwww. So, I would like to discuss a concept probably foreign to a lot of us, and that is productivity in the mornings. I think the general consensus for mornings is; wake up, turn the alarm off, lay there being miserable about our inevitable rise from the bed, literally fall back asleep like you don’t even need wages because you got the rent fairy to help you out, turn the alarm off, after laughing at the wage fairy thing become miserable again, tiny ‘lil pep talk, and rise. Usually, the mornings are for being sluggish, letting your body adjust and rest at the same time. You would eat your food and watch some TV or look on your phone, until it’s time to get ready for work or school. I feel this is the default morning of most people. My mornings have always been a little lazier and more shameful then that!

Typically, I would give myself an hour and 9 minutes. I’d have to leave at 8:15 so I would get up at 7:06 because sleep minutes are more like hours when you feel you’re losing them and 6 more minutes in bed felt like a lot to me. Then I would sluggishly walk to the kitchen and feed my two cats who would be bountiful balls of energy, making me a mere shell of a person in their presence. I would then make any cereal I can find and sit on the couch watching TV or looking through my phone as I ate. I wouldn’t really have time for a cooked breakfast or tea because here comes the important bit; I lay sleep, on the couch, for half an hour, as my partner lays in bed. Why? Glad you asked J I have no clueL. For me, being awake whilst in bed is fantastic because I can actually feel the pleasure of just lying there and letting my mind drift. I’m conscious to know I’m snuggly in bed and that’s a great feeling. So for me, I actually like my body being awake. That’s the reason I lay on the couch, much to my fiancés dismay that I would rather lay alone on the couch where the cats walk all over me and crush my ribs, their wet noses tapping my skin as they examine what the hell I think I’m doing with my life, then in her arms in our warm bed. I lay there merrily, thinking about nice happy things, body at rest, mind adrift, milk getting sneakily licked from my cereal bowl by those assholes as I lay careless and oblivious in my own warm bubble of rest and contentment. This is also subliminally stressful as I have to remember to get up at eight and each morning, my drifting mind lives in secret fear and sheer panic that I’ll properly fall asleep and be awoken at like 8:15 by my ashamed partner. Nonetheless, I always get up because I don’t actually sleep, I just lay there, pointlessly. Let’s think about what can be done in half an hour?

ü A workout session

ü Reading a book

ü Applying for jobs

ü Answering emails

ü A walk with fresh air

ü A shower

ü Putting effort into your make up, hair and outfit

ü Chores that you now don’t have to come home to

ü Making your partner breakfast

ü Watching EastEnders whilst washing up

You can get a lot done in that space of time so why was I just lying there, not even sleeping? It was pointless and I decided to change it, to explore the enigmatic world that rapidly progresses as we lie half dead asleep. The World of the Larks. The Larks are strange beings, they do the equivalent of half a day’s work a night owl does, in the two or three hours you’re still asleep. They are powerful and their motivation and strength should be feared or stolen from them when you get the chance. I decided this morning, I would try it. I spent a week, a few years ago, jogging at 6am. It was winter, dark, everyone at the bus stop looked like lonely orphans in any film designed to tug on your heart strings, and it didn’t appeal to me. However it’s the penultimate month of summer now, so I thought it would be different.

The hardest part already was the night before. Using my valuable, precious, beautiful time in evenings to actually be asleep by 10pm. I was devastated. I typically have so much damn fun in the evening, writing ideas for my 27 open novels, being too devoted to Bored Panda, Facebooking drama watching, TV, shouting “CUTENESS” at my cats, then I’ll go to bed at the ridiculous hour of about half 11, 12 or even 1! I’d fall asleep straight away and then repeat the aforementioned cycle of the 7:06 start. It sounds dreadfully unproductive and like a stereotypical uni student really. Like I would have lived when I was working till 10pm then at uni at like 10 or 2am. But this isn’t fun times anymore, I have a big girl job with a big girl flat and a big girl life and car insurance. It’s time to behave like a big productive girl who organises her life in diaries and budgets. So now we’re in the morning and I sort of woke up at 4:48am, my brain obviously pre-empting its doom. Then 5am hit. I took some advice from videos I had watched to prepare for this and I charged my phone in the hallway outside my door. That way, to shut off the noise, I had to get up, walk out to the hall and crouch down, giving my knees a workout already to switch it off. My partner decided to do this experiment with me, but left her phone on the nightstand, showing clear signs that her heart wasn’t in this, but she came with me and I feel so very proud. Her names Ashleigh by the way. Anyway, so I used the time to respond to some messages, they had built up because I didn’t use my phone half an hour before bed the previous night, another tip I picked up. The break from the screens will really do me good. It will help my eyes and my concentration levels. My eye lids won’t be lower, looking down at the phone, which helps with the eyes feeling lighter and me feeling more awake.

I was also surprised with how awake I actually felt. I find this happens every time I wake up before 7am, I always feel more awake then when I wake up after 7am. It’s odd but it’s true. Your body feels a bit weaker rather than just sluggish, but your eyes and mind are awake, like this is the time they are meant to be up all along and you’ve been over sleeping them. I don’t know if it’s the same for everyone else, but always been like this for me. So we woke up and had some grapes and water. I’m the type of person who could honestly eat KFC and drink coke, 5 minutes after waking up. Ashleigh could barely look at the grapes. 2 hours before their breakfast time, and the cats thought we were tired enough to forget and feed them early. Suckers! So then we left in her car and we drove to these hills near our flat, you climb them in a twisting motion and they overlook a beautiful canvas under the blue skies’ light of cars racing down the motorway, dull brown house roofs and Greater London pollution. Once we reached the precipice, we found our journey up had consisted of talks of the mind, how it copes with waking up early, how being productive actually boosts our serotonin levels and how we feel happier and more alive. So smarter conversation was happening. In our normal routine, the only conversation we’d get in the morning is what’s happening on Facebook or… nothing. It felt great to have an in depth conversation with nothing but the breeze around us, no screens no third party media to influence our conversations, just us, our minds and the world. It was lovely.

At the top, it took a minor toll on our legs. Let me tell you by the way, your legs at 5am are the equivalent to the little devil on your shoulder who tells you, you won’t get a degree because you’re useless at life or you won’t ever find a career you love just lower your standards or you won’t feel in the slightest horrible if you spend over £20 on a pizza delivery at 11pm on a week night. They don’t like 5am and they will remind you you’re a sadist and to have mercy and send them to bed. Ignore them, they are the over dramatic one in the family. Nonetheless, we sat down at the top and began to read our respective books. Mine was “The Good Guy” (Susan Beale), set in 1964, a realistic view on marriage, its ups and downs, the pressures on the typical masculine and feminine roles, motherhood and adultery, and hers was “I Let You Go” (Claire Mackintosh), how one mistake, brought on by pressurising and damaging events, can turn life upside down, with thrills and chases and emotions tugged hard. We only read a chapter each, but as everyone knows, books nourish your eyes better than a screen will, they nourish your imagination, forcing it to work to picture what you read rather than it being given to you, they nourish your vocabulary and extend it and they nourish your mood for the day with the journey you take when reading it, leaving you picturing your own world and story with more passion and thoughtfulness.

We descended the hill (and I ran up another, sorry legs L I am a bit heartless) and made our way home. She cooked us an omelettes and I washed up meaning, we will come home to a clean and tidy flat with no chores after a long day at work. We had tea and coffee, ate our food, shouted “CUTENESS” at the cats for a 37th time, and watched the YouTube Video that inspired this. I will link it down below. When we looked at the time it was 5 minutes to 8. I still had 5 minutes and I felt like I’d done my whole usual morning up until lunch time.

This experiment really did change my day, I feel brighter and more awake at work, driving to work made me feel more conscious and thus, safer. My morning was accomplished and productive, I felt like I had a much better handle on my life. We saw people jogging, people exercising, couples doing yoga at the top of the hill, and the enigmatic world of morning larks turned out to be a nice peaceful group of people exercising, nourishing their minds and bodies, leaving them free to relax in the evening. My partner and I both feel rejuvenated, in control, happier, fresher, lighter, healthier and less stressed immediately. I even got a text about something that had been stressing me and I swear it felt so much lighter on my shoulders, in fact it went straight over my head because I felt happy and in control of life, not down trodden and rushing to get to work. I suggest you all spend at least one day waking up at 5am, I promise you, you will not feel as over tired as you think you will, you’ll even feel more awake than usual, or your money back! It’s still, sort of summer, so leave the house, and go on a small walk or read a book, climb a hill and kiss the rising sun, do anything as long as it’s doing something productive. Then cook a hot breakfast and feel proud of your strength and your beautiful, accomplished morning. I do not miss my beautifully pointless naps and my hobby of running red lights because I’m late for work.

Mentioned YouTube video - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGWrGFlYtAQ

Thank you

Siobhan

#blogging #writing #writersblog #tumblr blog #productivity #earlymornings #5am #5amclub #thought #opinions #inspiration #youtubeinspo #happy #motivated #motivationalpost

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chaos2go · 7 years ago

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Cat issues + Looking for help

If you don't want to read the actual update, go to the read more for what I'm trying to do! You can see the original post on dA here. It has a little more to it. Also I apologize for tumblr killing the images. I link to them but quick post is quick orz. So I ended up cutting out of work early to take my cat to the vet. I suspected him of having pink eye given the build up of junk and irritation in general around his eye. I didn't want other cats to get sick plus this whole thing had been going on for over a week now. While at the vet I was petting him in an attempt to help him relax and realized there was some swelling on the side of his nose ridge below his eye (his fur hid it) after the vet tech went to get the actual vet. Upon her arriving she checked out his eyes and then wanted to check his teeth. Upon looking, they found some bloody tartar build up in his mouth and pretty much that's why he's having eye problems. In the end it was found out that he actually has an infection in the root of one of his teeth. Also known as a tooth abscesses and that is causing pressure on his eye. He's on antibiotics for the item alongside a steroid cream to help his eyes. I'm glad he's in okay health for now but if this doesn't work, he'll have to get some tests done on his kidneys before getting the teeth causing the issue removed and the rest cleaned. Which means oi... money. Hopefully what we do now causes the problem and if it happens again, well same procedure. He's pretty darn old so it's not a big surprise but... yeah.

So why am I making this tumblr overall? Well the visit alone to determine what to do with him cost me more than my guesstimate. The total ended up being around $122 and will be at least another $40ish when I take him back in two weeks given the swelling goes down and the infection goes away. The overall cost will be around $160 just for this problem alone and I'd like to try my darnedest to at least raise $40 once again to cover one bill. That's all. Not asking for anything big or to cover the vet bill itself. That alone covers nearly the entire cost of his medicine this time around. I'm going to list a few things that I'm willing to do in order to get that money. I still owe others commissions and I would rather just try to do simple things here.

Open Adoptables:

Top Deku ---- Bottom Deku

These two deku crossovers I'd be willing to let go of for about $5 each. Both could be bought for $8. If they were bought for $8 each (or $11 for both), I'd toss in another doodle drawing of them with flat colors instead of what I have. Or whatever you'd want of them.

This is a WIP design suggested by @Atashi-Cloud of a 'sword spirit Navi'. I never got to finishing it and sharing it. I'd be willing to let it go and redo it with whatever someone would offer. I have actual input on it but I'll reserve that for later for when I finish the design in general. I'd ask at the least $8 for it given I have to color/line/detail and perhaps even redraw. Overall though it would be an offer to adopt.

I'd also be willing to do customs for $5-$10 depending on what it is, fandom only. They would be done in this style. I'd limit it to fandoms I know such as Zelda, Steven Universe, Pokemon, and the like. Thursday Livestream Doodle Sale: On Thursday, July 27th I will hold a livestream wherein I do doodles from about 10AM CST to 10PM CST. The doodles here would be of characters with pre-existing art so I wouldn't be opening design doodles. I'd like to know who I was drawing before the stream so this is what I am offering:

- $3 for just lines, $4 for 'marker coloring'

Single 'crayon style' commission for my normal price of $8 Anyone who joined the stream and wanted to commission me during said stream would have to pay my normal prices. Here they are a dolor cheaper save the crayon.

Anyway, thank you so much for at least looking. Please let me know if you are interested in any of these things. I'll actually make a commission list to do on Thursday if people want to help me try to pay for that $40. I don't want to ask for donations honestly XD;. And if nothing happens, well at least I tried!

#commission #adoptable #tiffy stfu

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at-least-ill-die-a-lionturtle · 8 years ago

Note

All of the questions. 💖

** Links are in bold **

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? It depends on the cereal. Raisin Bran gets 50/50 milk-to-cereal ratio, while something like Fruity Pebbles gets a 30/70 milk-to-cereal ratio

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? I CHERISH IT WITH ALL OF MY HEART AND SOUL

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? Whatever happens to be the closest, flat object

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? I like my coffee as such: 50% coffee, 30% half&half, 20% sugar. Im going to assume this means hot tea, which Ive only had green. But I like my green tea with three sugars.

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? Very. I have bad gaps on all my front teeth

6: do you keep plants? No, but I really want to :3

7: do you name your plants? I will give them lovely names. Like Hamish, and Ludacris

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? Music

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? I DO, I do it all the time

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? Mostly side and stomach. I roll around a lot

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? Hey Karen, have you sent those faxes?

12: what’s your favorite planet? Mars

13: what’s something that made you smile today? A few things. My girlfriend, Rob Schneider, Achievement Hunter

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? Like this, I’d imagine15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! On Venus a day is longer than a year. The length of time it takes to complete one whole orbit around the Sun is 224.7 Earth days. However it takes 243 Earth days to rotate on its axis just once.

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? Uhm… Lasagna? I need more time to think about this lol

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? Ive dyed it blue before, it started off kinda dark and ended like a bubblegum blue. Next time I wanna dye it like this but darker

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. The time during marching band when we did our invitationals. Me and a buddy were in charge of the water station, and the valve on one of the jug-thingies wasnt working right. I told my buddy, “Hey, it wont work right unless you flick it first.” And the band director of the band walking buy, he was like 70 years old, kinda sounded like Old Man Jenkins from Spongebob. He said, in a tone that he knew EXACTLY what kinda joke he was making, “It works when I flick it!” And we were literally rofl

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? I keep a dream log, but I havnt updated it in years. Its not very often that I remember enough of my dreams to actually write them down. But I’ll go ahead and make posts with the two that Ive kept, here and here

20: what’s your favorite eye color? Greens and blues

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. Ive got this Halo 3 messenger bag thats like a Desert Storm color. One end of the strap has come off, a lot of the ends are frayed, and one of the zippers no longer works.

22: are you a morning person? Ive always been a morning person, and I also used to be a night owl. But now I struggle to stay up past 10pm

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? Watch Youtube and play video games

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? Yeah (:

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? My own home lmao

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? My stupid fucking work boots lol Only pair of shoes I own

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? Trident Layers Strawberry Citrus

28: sunrise or sunset? Primarily sunrise, but also sunset

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? When @pizzaboxx attacks the patriarchy

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? Yes, quite a few times actually. I almost tumbled down a mountain in a Jeep Wrangler when I was 7

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. I think okay about socks. I like wearing weird socks, I have a pair of Captain America ones with little wings. I do sleep with socks. I mostly do yeah lol Im pretty much always wearing socks unless swimming or showering is involved

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. Partook in some hooliganism at a Walmart, which included, but was not limited to, prank calling 9-11.

33: what’s your fave pastry? Bear claw and/or apple fritter

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? Ive had an Orca named Oscar since I was like 10

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? Nah, not really

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? Faunts

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? It kinda goes back and forth

38: tell us about your pet peeves! God damn, thats a list for another day lol

39: what color do you wear the most? Black and other dark colors. But Ive picked up a small array of light colored clothes over the last few years

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? I own an Amulet of Stendarr. It increases your Block skill by 10%. Stendarr is the Tamriellic god of Justice and Mercy. He is the patron of cleric-type folks, as his devout followers, the Vigilant of Stendarr, travel the lands rooting out demons and undead such as vampires.

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? Hm… I dont really know. My memory is shite and I havnt read a book in full in SO long

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! Not really, never have really been to an actual coffee shop. FUCKIN LOVE WAWA THO

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? Alex

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? I dont know if Ive ever truly felt like that. But Ive been close a few times.

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? Not a lot, but on occasion.

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. I’m always on time with my jokes. I guess you could say I’m pretty pun-ctual.

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? Fucking anything with cabbage. Oh, and candy corn. Fight me.

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? I used to be really afraid of the dark, but not really anymore.

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? I LOVE cds! And I’ll start getting records when I get a record player. The last cds I bought was a Weezer collection. It had Blue, Pinkerton, Green, Make Believe, and Red.

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? Nothing that I can think of, really.

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? MY buddy Sam; You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? None really. But Im sure something good will come around.

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? No, no, yes, and yes. I really like Beetlejuice, and I LOVE Pulp Fiction.

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? poop

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? Im not really sure

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? The passion for something they love

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? I ALWAYS dramatically re-enact the lyrics. HOW CAN YOU NOT?!

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? Dont know about wine mom, but my friend Caitlyn is DEF the vodka aunt lmao

59: what’s your favorite myth? The American Dream

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? I do, but I dont go out of my way to read it

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? I honestly cant think of anything right now, for either situation

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? I drink juice literally whenever possible, preferably apple juice.

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? Leave them to be

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? Midnight blue

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? YES. My group of friends from back home, and my baby sister

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? Made of blue Morning Glory’s and pink Hibiscus

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? SO GOOD. I always feel in a better mood.68: what’s winter like where you live? One week of frigid temps and occasionally Fall like temps but mostly in mid to high 70′s69: what are your favorite board games? Battleship, Scrabble, hmmm. Thats all I can think of at the moment70: have you ever used a ouija board? Never71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? Sweet iced tea. Im also trying out some Scottish Heather tea right now and its quite delightful72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? YES. I am so forgetful lmao73: what are some of your worst habits? Forgetfulness is the root of most, if not all, of my bad habits. So Imma go with that.74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. Loud, but also quiet at times. Very laid back, but adventurous. Trust-worthy and reliable. Never afraid of a good dick joke.75: tell us about your pets! OKAY! First dogs, then cats. Otis is a momma’s boy and loves socks. Charlie is energetic but loves being lazy on the bed AND BORFS LOUD AT SQUIRRELS and will steal your food without a second thought. Sheep is blind and likes the bathroom. Izzy is hella stressed and barks at EVERYTHING. Bojack is a grandpa with literal Alzheimers and sleeps A LOT. Lady chews on EVERYTHING and often throws up stuff like string and leaves and loves to be held. Gizmo likes to jump up against your leg and rip apart your flesh with his little raptor claws. Dobby gets hurt and cold easy but plays SUPER rough and is a MAJOR GROANER when sleepy and stuff. NOW CATS. Oscar is smol and cuddly and gets cold, but he PEES EVERYWHERE. NOTHING IS SACRED. Bones is also smol and very shy, doesnt like the other cats and REALLY LOVES Charlie. Frizzo is sweet most times but growls at everything and is an ASSHOLE to Bones and Carter. Carter stays away and hidden, she doesnt like the other animals. Will boop you when she wants attention. Lucy is our angry son, he is a super asshole to all the cats except Bones because thats his girlfriend, and is especially mean to Frizzo and Carter. He has an old man face when he’s tired.76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? Going to bed lol Super tired, but I need to finish my tea.77: pink or yellow lemonade? Yellow78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? I dont hate them, but I dont like them either79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? Alex has done plenty of cute things for me, because everything she does is cute :380: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? Fucking fake wood panels. We did not :P81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. I dont know too much about any of my friends eyes???82: are/were you good in school? NOPE lol83: what’s some of your favorite album art? Really like the album artwork of Deep Blue by Parkway Drive84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? I AM! I have a few specific ones planned, but also a bunch of inspiration here!85: do you read comics? what are your faves? I do not, but I really want to! I want to get into Spider-Man, The Flash, Ms. and Captain Marvel, Guardians of the Galaxy, and anything Teen Titans related.86: do you like concept albums? which ones? I think this is a concept album?87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Good Will Hunting, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Her88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? Expressionism and Impressionism89: are you close to your parents? LOL NOPE90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. FUCKING LOVE SAVANNAH. Its the perfect blend of historic and modern. Right on the beach/river. Lots of cool things going on. Also downtown is BEAUTIFUL.91: where do you plan on traveling this year? No idea lol92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? DROWN IT.93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? Varied lengths, and its really hard to tame my hair. Even with gel and shit. So I just let it do its own thing mostly.94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? An old friend from Runescape95: what are your plans for this weekend? Not a got damn thing!96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? I used to procrastinate them a lot, but Ive gotten better at it97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? It changes almost every time I take it, but I think its ISFP? Taurus. Gryffindor but I relate to Hufflepuff as well98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? Like over a year ago, I went with my buddy Sam and it was a pretty good time.99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. Jesus Doesnt Mosh - The Ambulance Review, Engine 45 - The Ghost Inside, Broken Mirrors - Mercy Screams, Rise Against, like just in general; [This Is More; We’re What Separates the Heart from the Heartless; Amber; Some Kind of Hope; Sufferer/La Poderosa; Diamond; Ring Loud (Last Hope); D(I AM)OND; Built Upon the Sand; The Suspend] songs in brackets are by Stick to Your Guns. Im total trash, sorry not sorry.100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? Easy, I would definitely go back five years into the past. It would be awesome to have my current knowledge so I could better prepare myself for my life today.

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cebeavers · 18 years ago

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Florida 2007

March 17-23, 2007 Photo Album

Months prior I’d decided to go to Florida in March. My main goal was to go and see if I liked Florida enough to move there permanently, and to see what the job situation down there would be like, but I knew I couldn't go to the Sunshine State and NOT ride any coasters of have fun. I offered the trip to Jon months ago, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get off, have the cash to go, among thousands of other potential trip killers. And I think because the trip was in limbo for so long, even though I had tentative dates well in advance, that I wasn't excited to even go until about 2 days ahead of time.

So in Feb., we came up with the definite dates, I made reservations at Motel 6 (which we'll talk about more later), and purchased 2 tickets to Islands of Adventure theme park (again, which we'll get in to later). Jon had to work on the Sunday we were leaving, so we planned to leave that nite after he got off around 9pm. As the time came, I was so uninterested in even going, dreading the long drive, not really excited, and just kind of 'meh' about the whole thing, but the day before I left home, the excitement kind of started to set in.

Then Jon called using his serious voice. I just knew he would tell me he couldn't go at the last minute. Thankfully, though, he was calling to tell me that he would be doing a culinary show at the Stonewall Jackson Resort in central WV that weekend, but he would be back and would be working on Sunday and so our plans didn't change. I made the comment that perhaps I could just meet him up there on Saturday instead of meeting members of my family in White Sulfur Springs, WV on Sunday (the half way point) since this was still about the same half way point, and he made arrangements for us to have a room.

Saturday finally arrived, and that evening I was off. My father and a friend of his drove me to the Stonewall Jackson Resort, and as I arrived, I dropped my stuff in the room and went down to the bar to find Jon and his chef buddies having a quick bite and drink before the evening culinary show. The resort was very nice. I'd been by the area but never here before. I met up with Jon and met his boss and some other chefs. We stood around for a few before they had to go and start cooking for the evening, so I went back to the room to relax from the 3 hour drive and just admire the beautiful snow outside in the spectacular resort settings. Then I made my way down to the Stillwaters Restaurant for the buffet. I was really blown away by it (not your 'standard' buffet fair, and definitely not for the standard price) as it featured way more interesting veggies and fruits than it did meat, although any kind/cut of meat you wanted was available to be cooked right there, but I had given up meat (although I knew that probably wouldn't be the case for parts of this trip).

After enjoying my meal, I made my way again back to the room to lay around and do nothing. I topped my cell phone (I never use it, so until I move out of state, I have it on Pre-Pay) up with minutes, browsed the pay per view selections and noticed nothing interesting was on, and then took a shower. Jon called once the evening meal was over and told me to meet him in the lobby, as they were having a Wine, Chocolate, & Cheese tasting. I didn't have any wine, but I had some amazing chocolate truffles and was introduced to quite a bit of the state's top chefs as well as many politicians out of the capital.

After the tasting, we headed back down to the bar, where we sat around and played pool, talked to the rest of the chefs, and generally goofed off. The evening wasn't a total waste of me being lazy, by the way. I was actually quite active after the evening meal was over, and the dinner plate that cost everyone else well over $100 a pop was brought to me (though in a box) for free. Mmmm...Good food. And I tried Rabbit for the first time. Not bad.

The next morning we were up early to trudge thru the snow for the 2 hour drive to Moorefield so Jon and his boss could get back to their restaurant. I put my stuff in Jon's car and then took his car over to my sister's house to visit. I was there until almost 9, and then headed to pick Jon up, take him to his house so he could pack and get ready, and then we were on the road at 10pm.

Jon drove for a few hours, I drove for a few hours, and every state south that we went, I expected it to finally get warm. It was around 30ish all the way thru to South Carolina. We passed thru Columbia and over 26 towards I-95. Just before hitting I-95, we pulled off at a rest stop to take an hour nap. Jon got behind the wheel, and as I slept, an hour later, he took off. I slept all the way thru Georgia (a state I'd never even been thru), save for the last hour as he had stopped for breakfast, and I took over the drive.

We hit Florida and the sky was beautiful. It was rather warm in Georgia, but still a chill in the air. But no chill was to be found in Florida. We called our friends in DeLand and told them where we were and got directions to the motel we'd be staying at. And around 1pm or so, we found our Motel 6 in Winter Park, Fl. When I made reservations, I thought I was making them for the newer Motel 6 near Orlando. This motel was older (although clean), and not in the best of sections. There were always cops there (sometimes up to 3 cop cars a nite), possible prostitution, and loud neighbors. Oh well. We skipped out on the final nite, but we'll get to that later.

Once we got to the room, we both took turns showering and cleaning up, changing our cloths, and settling in. Then we headed to Downtown Disney. This one was so different than the one in California. We just hit the West side and Pleasure Island as I didn't even notice the East side of Downtown Disney until later on in the week. We checked on tickets for Cirque, but there were no shows that week. Bummer. As we walked thru the mostly dead West side, we realized Jon forgot his camera. Eventually, we made it to Pleasure Island and Regland Road, and Irish restaurant, where we decided to have dinner.

Another big YUM! I had Shepherd's Pie and Jon had Banger's and Mash. Both very good. Jon Loves this place and can't wait to go back. I called and spoke to Jeff DeRue as he was still working (at Disney), and we went back to the car to ride around Disney World. Eventually we left as we were both rather tired from the 16-ish hour drive. So we got gas and headed back to the motel for a nap.

That evening, we got up and made our way to Citiwalk. As we were driving to Disney World earlier, Islands of Adventure just kind of Popped out of no where, unexpectedly, so this time we knew where it was. We parked (yay to free parking after 6pm) and headed to Citiwalk. Again, much better than the one in California in my opinion. Although it is weird that they just took all of the escalators from California and made them flat in Florida...

We walked around Citiwalk, thru Fossil and a clothing store, and over by the gates of both park and the Hard Rock Cafe. We stopped at Jimmy Buffet's for a Rum Runner and walked up towards the Bob Marley Legend Restaurant where we were told we should go to guest services and get a Citiwalk pass so that we didn't have to pay a cover for any of the places at Citiwalk, which we did. There I met a really fun girl at guest services that we ran back in to later in the week before heading back to Legend. We both had a vegetable thing called Natty Dreads that was really, REALLY good. The house Reggae band was okay.

After we finished eating, we headed over to the Red Coconut for a couple drinks. Jon got a really good Martini. Normally, I hate them, but the bartender made this one very well. After we got bored with that, we went back down to Margaritaville for their live band. They were only okay as well. Eventually, our beds were calling for us, so we headed back to the car and then to the motel room. Our neighbors kept both of us up most of the nite, and my snoring didn't help Jon sleep.

We had no plans for Tuesday, so we were both up rather early. I called Daniella in DeLand and told them we'd come and have lunch with them around noon, so we got up, got ready, and drove the 40 minutes to DeLand from Winter Park. Jon ran a stop sign, had us both laughing, but we ended up safe and sound at Casa De Koontz. After spending some time at their house, we all piled in their Jeep and went to a Mexican place called Moe's for lunch. The food was good, but I wasn't aware that I didn't 'have' to have the Chicken in my meal. Oh well. After that, they took us thru town and gave us a tour of some of the recent Tornado damage around the area. Scary.

We hung out at their house that evening and then went to Ihop with some of their friends. We went back to their house for a bit before heading again back to Motel 6, only to be kept up most of the nite by the party of 20 in the room next door. At least the cops that parked in the parking lot of the motel came and shut them up at 4:30 am (and they weren't loud the rest of the trip).

Wednesday was our day at Islands of Adventure.

Thursday morning came...and went. We slept in. When we got up, we headed to Downtown Disney for some shopping, this time discovering the East side and all it had to offer. It was way more crowded than the West side. Ate this time at Wolfgang Pucks, where I had Sushi and Jon had Seared Tuna. Both were very good. We picked up our gifts and headed out to Josh and Daniella's. We got stuck in traffic, and after hanging with them for a while, since we'd ate before we shopped at Disney, it was time for Dinner, so we took them out to a local place with really good food.

After dinner, we went back to Downtown Disney to pick up Mouse Ears for my mom's boss, and then went to Citiwalk so I could get a Wallet and Jon could get some stuff. We ran back in to the girl from Guest Services we met the very first nite and chatted a bit before we headed to our room, packed up our stuff, checked out a nite early, and headed back to DeLand. Josh and Daniella offered us a place for the nite so we could check out of Ghetto Motel 6 and be an hour closer to the road. We spent the evening watching The Prestige, which was an odd movie, before going to bed.

Friday morning, we headed north. I slept the first few hours (and thru all of Georgia). I took over in South Carolina, and we got caught in Rush Hour traffic in Charlotte, which set us back an hour 30. Then we hit road work a little further out of Charlotte that set us back another hour. We finally made it back to WV around 11pm Friday nite. Great week, great food, great fun, and I can't wait to move to Florida. I found some prospects, now I just need to go down there and get hired.

#Orlando #DeLand #Florida #2007

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nereiduk · 7 years ago

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Channel Crossing part 1

Wed 9 August 2017

The advantage of our delayed start was a very luxurious shower in the refurbished marina bathrooms, and a leisurely breakfast. We had our safety briefing on deck, then slipped lines at 930, taking a quick tour of the marina to check out the racy trimarans that had already finished the Fastnet.

Motoring out in Plymouth Sound we just had the main up, not too hard a job with a couple of people hauling the throat and peak so the gaff stayed level. The wind was just a F4-5 and the sea was flat, but Craig had left in one reef as the forecast was for F6-7.

Once past the Plymouth breakwater we skirted the Mew Stone near the entrance to the Yealm and then gybed out to head for Eddystone lighthouse, as the wind direction meant we couldn’t do the whole trip on our preferred heading of 150 and be able to sail just high enough to avoid an unplanned gybe.

Pegasus will sail closer to the wind than many traditional boats, but she is happiest on a reach. Dead downwind is very rolly, and with the heavy gaff rigged main a crash gybe could be nasty. So we were sailing maybe 10-15 degrees off dead downwind.

I took the tiller, which needed leaning against to keep on course, and steered to keep Eddystone lighthouse off the starboard bow. Being in the cockpit felt protected, but with the floor sunk below deck level, it was hard for a smaller person to spot landmarks.

Craig discussed watch systems for the passage; we agreed on a pattern of 2 hours on, 4 hours off, with a watch leader and two to three crew on each watch. Given my broken sleep the previous night, when I got the chance to go off watch at 11am, I climbed straight into my bunk and tied up the lee cloth. I could hear the sea chortling along the hull, and as we were on port tack and I was in the starboard forecabin, I felt quite secure and soon dozed.

I was woken by a conversation in the saloon, and it turned out that Martin, one of the paying crew, had injured his foot badly and Craig had decided to turn round and drop him in Plymouth for A&E and then set out again. I thought I might as well stay in my bunk. Pegasus headed up and the heel accentuated, then the engine went on, so they were clearly motor-sailing to get back upwind more quickly.

I emerged just as we arrived in Plymouth, catching the tail end of a lentilly soup for lunch, then berthing temporarily alongside a pontoon next to some futuristic Fastnet finishers. We got as many admiring glances and photos as they did, though for different reasons.

Craig and James helped Martin pack up and got him off the boat, limping along the pontoon to get a taxi to A&E. We made a quick turnaround, and Pegasus was sailing out of Plymouth Sound for the second time about 3pm, past Jennicliff beach and Bovisand Bay, then the Breakwater and the Mew Stone.

This time the wind had shifted a little, so we didn’t have to gybe out towards Eddystone, instead sailing along the coast past the entrance to the River Yealm and Bigbury Bay.

With the four hour delay, there was now a risk we might not make our early morning slot for Paimpol. But Craig’s plan was to head there anyway, and if we missed our chance, anchor south of Ile de Brehat where there would be shelter from the northerly breeze till the evening high water.

Slowly we worked our way past the coastline, chomping through the waves at 6.5 knots on an approximate 150 heading. A couple of dolphins frolicked in the wave off the port quarter, and for once I had the presence of mind to capture them on video. My second watch finished at 5pm, and I was still feeling tired, so climbed back into my bunk and soon blanked out.

Emerging at 7pm, Craig had filled the galley with the smell of pasta and bolognese, and handed out hot bowls with roughly grated parmesan on deck, plus a vast quantity of garlic bread. We were just rounding the cliffs of Bolt Head and Bolt Tail.

The sun was beginning to dip below the cloud layer, lighting up the sails in a warm yellow. Ahead to the south west the clouds were more glowering, and there was a short stump of rainbow where the late sun had caught a rain shower.

Slowly the sun dipped into the sea behind us, and gradually the warm light on the sails faded, leaving just a few pink clouds to the north. My second watch started at 9pm, so I settled on the deck near the cockpit, and scanned the horizon looking for commercial ships in the dusk.

Craig was on the helm and kept up his usual continuous banter as he considered alternative tactics to avoid large ships, calling up as a last resort when it looked like we were on a collision course. Pegasus was still on a very broad reach, so without careful attention the foresails flapped and the boom twitched. No one else was prepared to take this on, so Craig stayed at the helm.

At 10pm Katy emerged up the cockpit steps a little tousled, and took over from Craig on the helm. Pegasus was still rolling and bucking over the waves, but tucked up on the high side I felt secure. A few stars emerged in the gaps in the clouds and the sky dimmed darker. By 11pm I was very weary and ready to sleep. The next watch were a little late getting up and gearing up, so I had to hold out for another 15 mins.

What might seem a simple task of removing lifejacket and waterproof and taking off boots became a major challenge down in the saloon as it felt as though the boat was bucking deliberately to try to throw its occupants around. I gave up on the idea of cleaning teeth and scrambled into my bunk fully clothed. The motion was complex, rolling from side to side and mounting then coasting down the waves. It felt like a dervish was making me dance and not taking no for an answer. I closed my eyes and surrendered to the crazed movement, and, surprisingly, slept.

#bristolchannelpilotcutter pegasus channelcrossing

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tomcartercyclist · 8 years ago

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A crucial time in my training, with Morocco fast approaching and wanting to do well, I was dubious of having my surgery prior to leaving, but was stoked when the surgeon, Vaughan Poutawera (VP), told me that after the surgery on the Thursday, I could be riding by Saturday. Saturday came round and I was back out, bit sore in the arm, but nothing that could overshadow a good coffee ride.

Leaving home is never easy, partly from the emotional perspective leaving mum and dad behind, but mostly from the stress mum puts herself through about me not being fully packed three days (yes, days) before leaving. Hell, she’s lucky if it’s thirty minutes before we’d agreed to leave the house! I’d managed to nail my packing this year, getting everything I wanted to take in my suitcase and bike box whilst still being under the baggage weight limit. With car loaded we were off to Auckland the night before the flight, have a quality ‘last supper’ together before flying out in the morning. Pulling the “I’ve just had surgery” card at check-in, I was bumped up to premium economy for the second leg of my flight, thanks VP!

Arriving in Belgium was a bit of shock to the system, the ground was white and shorts and tee-shirt definitely wouldn’t have cut it! With my flight getting in mid-morning I was able to build up my bike and get out for an easy spin that afternoon, in what was ‘good’ weather. Sunny, no wind, and with enough layers, avoiding hypothermia. About 500m from the end of my ride my rear derailleur strangely stopped working. It’s strange because if my Di2 battery had died, the front derailleur would have cut out first, however this was still working. The next day I dropped my bike into a local shop, where they upgraded all the firmware throughout the battery, shifters and derailleurs and I was off with a smile, just a small hitch. About 2 days later my battery did go flat though, thinking I’d just neglected to charge it, I plugged it in overnight, and forgot about it. The “oh shit” moment didn’t hit till three days later however, when the battery was flat again. Applying some Google-fu to the problem, led me to the conclusion that there was obviously either a loose connection, or a faulty part, which is covered under the warranty for three years. After some more research, I found out that Shimano have registered ‘service centres’ with staff trained by Shimano, all the spare parts and the ability to replace them on warranty. Within 40 minutes of riding I was at the nearest one and explaining my issue. The mechanic plugged my bike into the computer, checked all the firmware and said there was no issue except potentially the battery being faulty. He told me to come back three days later on the Tuesday when they were open again with my bike receipt so he could call Shimano and check that the European department could cover the warranty as the bike was bought in NZ. He unplugged the system, went to send me on my way, and after the battery being at 50% when he plugged it in, it was now flat. With a shake of the head, he said he’d replace the battery with a new one as long I promised I’d email him with the receipt of my bike, quality guy and exceptional service on the Shimano front!

The time off the bike in Belgium was a lot smoother, I’d had the team presentation, which was a wild ride of “what? what? who’s this? and wait, what?” as the whole presentation was in French (I don’t speak French), then as I was on the stage with the rest of the team being presented, one of the guys was talking, calls a girl up and suddenly he’s on one knee asking her to marry him. A new experience, that’s for sure. The smoothest part of the week was definitely being able to slide round on the frozen pond in the garden wearing quality winter footwear, socks and jandals. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything truly wintery so seeing snow and ice every day when I woke up was re-igniting my inner child! This didn’t last for long however, as just a week after arriving I was off again, in search of sunshine and bike races in Morocco on my first visit to Africa.

A few day prior to departure I’d received an email from the team with the details of the flight, when I needed to be at the airport, the races, riders and staff that were going. With the rendezvous being Brussels airport, it was there that I properly met the guys I’d be with for the next two weeks. All fairly experienced bike riders, having ridden at high levels in former years. We’d had a few issues checking the bikes in as they had not been paid for prior some were overweight, despite the 32kg weight limit (plus suitcase of 20kg) there was still one rider with the total weight of his bike box at 45kg! Turns out he’d brought enough food in case of the apocalypse. It was during all this that one of the more experienced riders turns to me and says “first race, first problems eh”, what a premonition that was.

Arriving in Agadir, Morocco later that night on the same flight as the Canadian team, where all 12 bikes (ours and theirs) in their bags/boxes were loaded onto the back of a ute with (luckily) raised side panels and a net thrown over for extra safety, reassuring. The next day all are bikes were loaded into the back of a truck and sent on their way, driven down to Laayoune, Western Sahara where our first lot of races were to be. Just after midday we were all loaded on to a bus and taken to the local military base, where after a rigorous security procedure we all boarded a Moroccan military plane, one of the ones with seats parallel to the length of the plane, facing each other and all our suitcases loaded on a tray in the back with (another) net thrown over them. There was no safety briefing, it was dark, it was noisy, the toilet was a bucket, the landing was rough but at least the seats were fairly comfortable. As one of the guys from the English team put it “It’s more comfortable than EasyJet, just missing the tits and lip gloss”. After landing and finally getting a hotel that we were able to stay at (after the one the organisers checked us into turned round at the last minute and said they didn’t want us) it was almost 10pm, and still no bikes. We were due to race the next day, however I wasn’t panicking, as long as mine wasn’t there, it meant no one else’s was either, can’t have a bike race if you’ve got no bikes!

The bikes finally arrived the morning of the race and it was a case of building them, getting kitted up and going to lunch then straight on to team presentation with nary a break in-between. The team presentation was in some kind of local government hall, and after sitting around for too long waiting for a presentation that was too short, we rolled back outside to the start line. I went to change into my big chainring for the start and guess what? The Di2 was on its way out again, I still had use of the rear derailleur but was stuck in the small chainring at the front, “first race, first problems eh”. The countdown was on, the locals were cheering, we were clipped in and into the neutralised start of my first elite UCI race outside of New Zealand. After 4km of neutralised, we were pulled over into a lay-by where all our bikes were to be loaded into a truck and us on to a bus so that we could be taken 40km down the road to the ‘official’ start of the race. Prior to loading my bike, I spoke to the mechanic of the English team after suggestion from one of their riders during the neutralised zone, who managed to adjust the limit screws in my front derailleur, moving it into the big ring, so that at least I’d be in a suitable gear for the day that was due to be all flat.

Finally getting to the start and cracking into 160km point-to-point race that was all one direction heading south down the coast through the desert. It was a cross/tail wind all day and split in the first 10km. I was in the second group, managing to ride fairly well given I was effectively riding a single speed bike (53x12 all day). It was only as the road started to tilt up ever so slightly that I couldn’t hold on, I needed an easier gear and my battery was now completely flat. If I’d had full use of my gears, I definitely would have been able to stick with that group, which all ended up going top 20, which I was disappointed about. The first group to cross the line averaged 52km/h for the whole day, I finished with an average of 47.7 km/h, definitely the fastest race I’ve ever done! Looking back I couldn’t have done anything about it, after the bikes being delivered I wouldn’t have had time to charge the Di2 enough, was pretty much a case of tough luck. Something’s obviously wrong with the bike, I’m led to believe it’s a loose connection, probably something I’ve knocked when cleaning my bike.

After the race we were all taken to a local building for lunch, which consisted of a dinner plate size bread bun/roll/loaf and four roast chickens, that’s it, no salad, no grains, nothing. Just four roast chickens as the waiter unveiled them with a flourish as he set them down on the table. I’d forgot to bring a spare pair of shorts for post-race, so I was sat in my bibs the whole time. As we discussed the trip back to the hotel over dinner, 160km back the way we came, plus 40km we’d been driven out from the start with a 100km speed limit all the way, we realised it was going to be a couple of hours more before we were back. As one of the last tables to leave dinner, we’d missed out on seats on the bus with most of the other riders too, so had to return in a van, which turned out to be quite the experience. The 100km speed limit went out the window (along with my hearing) as the driver went foot flat all the way back at 140km/h, singing along to Arab music he had blaring, whilst managing to keep up with all his social media at the same time. Who said men couldn’t multitask?

I slept well that night, grateful it wasn’t on a slab in the morgue and that we had a day to recover from the day before. All kitted up with the team, waiting in the lobby to go when I was told we’d be doing a 3 hour ride, having raced the day before, and with a race the next day. I rolled with it, we ended up doing 2:40 in the wind, then back to the hotel and rest for the next day’s race.

The second race was in the opposite direction to the day prior, heading North and thankfully only 100km, as it was a slow day into the wind. Through poor positioning in moments when the road turned slightly, I ended up out the ass, distanced from the group on two occasions, luckily managing to make my way back both times. Somehow, in a strange turn of events that cycling seems to throw at you, I saw the next bend coming, rode round the outside of the group, and in the space of two minutes, I’d gone from being in the bunch cursing my poor positioning, to suddenly being in the break of the day, with one of my teammates, 14 riders and 48km remaining. For those of you who are numbers based, I’ll expand a bit on what it took to establish the break. After going round the outside of the bunch and making the split, in a cross wind and the group working well together to pull away, I averaged 390 watts (5.6 W/kg) for the first 10 minutes of the split, with an average and max heart rate of 186 and 194 respectively. For the full 48km break, 1 hour 18 mins long, I average 334 watts (7 watts less and 20 mins longer than my nationals TT this year) with average/max heart rate of 178/198 respectively.

The group worked well together until 8km to go. The wind was howling in from the right hand side, I’d just finished a turn, moved over to the right into the wind and the first attack went on the left, leaving me stranded and without anyone to draft off. There was another young rider that got pinged as well, so we put our heads down and worked together, picking up my teammate that had also got dropped a bit further along the ride. It took us five and a half kilometres, eight minutes and 400 watts. With my legs buggered and not far to go, I swung on the back and then tried to work my way around as many people as possible leading into the finish, eventually coming in 8th, with my teammate 7th. A good day for the team and I was happy with the result. All the other guys from the team had a brief break after finishing then hopped back onto their bikes and rode the 100km back to the hotel, tailwind all the way but still a lot with 140km to race the following day. I stuck around, had another sub-par lunch, this time with couscous before cruising back to the hotel on the bus, having dinner and chilling out for the night.

Race three and the worst roads we’d ridden on so far. In comparison to the first day, where 80% of the race was smooth tar seal, the third day was 80% ripped up road, with potholes galore. The race stuck together most of the day, before a slight turn in the road again where crosswinds hit, and the race started to split. I was near the front, in the right place, rolling round in the echelon before eventually getting cut off when I was trying to move back up to the front and because I wasn’t aggressive/assertive (pretty much the same thing) enough, I suddenly found myself off the wheels and again in the second group. None of our riders had made the split, so it was on to the front and working hard trying to pull the break back. It suddenly became apparent however that everyone else seemed happy just sitting on as a handful of riders worked to pull the break back, when they all had things to gain and nothing to lose if they’d worked with us. Frustrating to say the least, but not as frustrating as seeing the 2km to go sign, winding it up for the sprint, getting on the right wheels, still winding up, more, more, more, then realising you’d done 2km and still couldn’t see the finish line. The organisers had put the 2km to go sign about 4.5km out from the finish, which is annoying during a point to point race when you’ve not had chance to ride the finish. “But Tom, you should have been able to tell by the total distance on your Garmin”, good thinking, that'd only work though if the races are the same length they tell you before the start, but none of them ever are. Maybe they’re a kilometre out, maybe five kilometres!

After the race it was bikes in the truck, lunch (more meat, more couscous), off to the air base and back onto the military plane North to Agadir. Landing in Agadir it was already dark, and we were treated to an extra hours transfer inland to Taroudant, where our next set of races were. Going into the hotel room and seeing one double bed was a firm “no” from me, after talking to the receptionist we were told that the ‘couch’ under the stairs was the other bed. I took one for the team and offered to sleep on the couch so the other guy could have the double bed, which eventually worked in my favour. After dinner we were told that it was in fact three to a room. The teammate that was put in with us quickly came to me babbling about “I can’t sleep in the same bed as another guy, it’s against my religion, I can’t do it, it’s against my morals” and other such excuses. Couch was looking like a positive option after all!

Waking up to the bikes in the lobby was a great way to put a smile on my face, albeit my bike missing a bar end. After an easy hour on the bike, a quick shower then we were out for lunch, put on by the race organisers, in an absolutely stunning location, with the best lunch we had the whole time we were there, mainly due to them finishing the meal with a chocolate ice cream cake, can’t go wrong with that! After getting back we were paraded by the front of our hotel on our bikes in team kit, in front of crowds of locals with a marching brass band leading the way. That evening we headed in to town and sat outside at one of the local cafe’s, soaking in the atmosphere and indulging in the culture by trying traditional Moroccan tea, pretty much just mint tea with sugar, it’s fantastic!

Another day off before racing kicks back in tomorrow and I’d woken with a sore throat, not a good sign. It was off on the bikes for two hours with a decent climb in the middle, nothing steep, just nice and gradual as something different to spin the legs out. I spent the rest of the day relaxing with my legs up, catching up on TV shows and prepping my kit for the next days race.

132km, supposedly. 123km according to my Garmin and a communique from the organisers post race saying there’d been a crash further up the road causing the race to be shortened. More likely someone hadn’t done their course research. Not that it mattered anyway, 30km into the race and the break had already gone, our full team was on the front for 15km, working hard with one other team to try and pull it back, but to no avail. 30km out from the finish, the team car pulls up alongside me telling me to go to the front and ride for the team, all whilst I’m sitting on the back, trying to claw my way further up the front, I had nothing. Shortly after I ended up dropping off the bunch and riding in with one of my other teammates who wasn’t having the best day. We were quizzed by the team DS (directeur sportief, part of team management who tells you what to do during the race) after the race about why we didn’t go to the front when we were told, judging by the gesticulations and tone of my teammate, I was pretty sure he was making the same point I would have made, you can’t ride the front when you’re struggling to ride the back!

We had another day off the following day, an easy hour finishing at the coffee stop, where camels were roaming the surrounding streets. Sitting in the sun, talking nonsense and drinking a couple of coffees (or teas) each before begrudgingly heading back to the hotel to get changed for lunch. On a spur of the moment decision, we decided to skip eating lunch at the hotel, and instead started to make our way into town. We’d barely been walking 5 minutes before we were accosted by a local, walking alongside us he began to quiz us where we were from, what we were doing in Morocco, and where we were heading that day. After finding out we were going into town to eat, he turned round, and started running in the opposite direction.One of the Belgies pipes up with “wait eh, two minutes and he's back on a scooter”, sure enough, there he was. He’d pass us, go slightly ahead and wait, ride alongside us for a bit, before taking off up the road again. Eventually making it into town, finding somewhere to eat and our Moroccan friend organising us a horse-drawn ride back to the hotel for around $1.50NZ each. What he got out of the whole ordeal I’m not exactly sure, we all still had our wallets and phones, and he hadn’t pressured us into giving him money. Maybe the Marocs are genuinely friendly people and I’m too pessimistic.

The following day none of us were looking forward to, it was cold, it was wet, it was windy, and my cold had become worse. We were expecting 50 laps of a 2.5 kilometre circuit, however on the start line however, we were told it would actually be 18 laps, so a quick calculation led me to 45km, instead of 125km, not that I was complaining in the grim weather. To say the start was rapid would be an understatement, it was full gas straight from the gun and my legs were not responding at all. One of the first corners was tyre deep in water, it was slippery and there were guys on the front taking crazy risks that I wasn’t prepared to take. It was race over for me fairly quickly, I was struggling physically, and wasn’t riding confidently in the wet. A disappointing race that was over fairly quickly. It was a similar scenario for most of my teammates, with another three pulling out around the same time as me, one puncturing just after the halfway mark and subsequently pulling the pin after missing the break, with the final rider being the only one to finish, in 15th. We all spent the rest of the day sitting in the hotel lounge and drinking coffee, whilst looking (and feeling) morose.

The last race was meant to be a different course to the first, but due to flooding out on the roads, we were to do the same course as the first day in Taroudant, but with the extra 5km we’d missed before the turn-around when we’d first done it. This day was probably the worst my cold got, I’d been told by the DS to just do my best, ride hard at the start, either help establish a break with a teammate in or pull back anything we didn’t have a rider in, and if I was shattered, I’d be ok to drop off after that. I rode hard from the start, giving it a proper go and ended up feeing alright for the day. I was working on the front when I had to, sitting in when we had a rider in the break. No moves ever lasted long off the front and with 20km to go we were all together with it looking like it would be coming down to a bunch sprint. My team mate soon put an end to that however, attacking off the from with one other, for a thrilling 20km finale. 5km to go and from my vantage point mid-pack we could see them with a slight gap. 3km to go and they were even closer, approaching town and the rest of the team crossing fingers, we had one rider up near the front in case it ended up coming back together, but things were becoming tense. 2km to go and a rider attacks from the peloton, bridging the gap to the lead two riders with 1km to go. Watching, waiting and finally seeing hands in the air, but not the blue sleeves of our team. Turns out he’d got second to the rider that had bridged across, with his breakaway partner third, the first rider from the peloton missing out by half a wheel, it came close! The rider we’d had at the front of the peloton came in 6th, with a result like that, if the lead three had been swamped 100 metres before the line, we’d have still had a rider on the podium.

For second place he got a trophy, traditional Moroccan dress and a huge Moroccan rug, like he’s going to get that back on the plane! Turns out our DS knows someone who lives in Morocco where they can leave it till they come back in April for a tour where they supposedly have a car that they can put it in to drive back to Belgium. Seems an awfully long drive, maybe something was lost in translation!

0430 the next morning and my alarm’s going off, stumbling through the hotel with my bags and into yet another van before heading off to the airport and the return trip to Belgium. After saying our farewells at the airport, I parted with my teammates and went to meet my ride back to my base in Belgium, slightly torn bike box in tow. It’d obviously been thrown around at some point, and it was dented and the zipper was ripped, but my bike luckily came out ok. Unfortunately for one of my teammates that wasn’t the case, it was the bike (pun intended). A bent seat and forks in pieces, a shit way to end a solid two weeks of racing, on a positive note however, at least it was on the way back rather than the way there!

Now I’m off on a two week break, visiting friends and family before returning to Belgium late February to rip back into the training. I’ve got some targets that seem to have been almost thrust upon me, and I definitely want to be able to shoot for them. “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take”, so I’ll be back training hard, loading my pistol, aiming, and hoping for the best when I pull the trigger!

T.W.C

#bikeblog #Morocco #DudeWheresMyBike

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lesbianrewrites · 8 years ago

Text

Sorcerer’s Stone Chapter 04

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of Harry Potter by J.K Rowling.

Chapters will be posted every other day around 9-10pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

The Keeper Of The Keys

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

“Where’s the cannon?” he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands — now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

“Who’s there?” he shouted. “I warn you — I’m armed!”

There was a pause. Then —

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

“Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey. …”

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

“Budge up, yeh great lump,” said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

“An’ here’s Hayley!” said the giant.

Hayley looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

“Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby,” said the giant. “Yeh look a lot like Jamie, but yeh’ve got Lily’s eyes.”

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

“I demand that you leave at once, sir!” he said. “You are breaking and entering!”

“Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,” said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon’s hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

“Anyway — Hayley,” said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, “a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here — I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.”

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Hayley opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Hayley written on it in green icing.

Hayley looked up at the giant. She meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to her mouth, and what she said instead was, “Who are you?”

The giant chuckled.

“True, I haven’t introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.”

He held out an enormous hand and shook Hayley’s whole arm.

“What about that tea then, eh?” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.”

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn’t see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Hayley felt the warmth wash over her as though she’d sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, “Don’t touch anything he gives you, Dudley.”

The giant chuckled darkly.

“Yer great puddin’ of a son don’ need fattenin’ anymore, Dursley, don’ worry.”

He passed the sausages to Hayley, who was so hungry she had never tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn’t take her eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, she said, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know who you are.”

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Call me Hagrid,” he said, “everyone does. An’ like I told yeh, I’m Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course.”

“Er — no,” said Hayley.

Hagrid looked shocked.

“Sorry,” Hayley said quickly.

“Sorry?” barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. “It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?”

“All what?” asked Hayley.

“ALL WHAT?” Hagrid thundered. “Now wait jus’ one second!”

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

“Do you mean ter tell me,” he growled at the Dursleys, “that this girl — this girl! — knows nothin’ abou’ — about ANYTHING?”

Hayley thought this was going a bit far. She had been to school, after all, and her marks weren’t bad.

“I know some things,” she said. “I can, you know, do math and stuff.”

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, “About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents’ world.”

“What world?”

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

“DURSLEY!” he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like “Mimblewimble.” Hagrid stared wildly at Hayley.

“But yeh must know about yer parents,” he said. “I mean, they’re famous. You’re famous.”

“What? My — my parent’s weren’t famous, were they?”

“Yeh don’ know … yeh don’ know …” Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Hayley with a bewildered stare.

“Yeh don’ know what yeh are?” he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

“Stop!” he commanded. “Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the girl anything!”

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

“You never told her? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An’ you’ve kept it from her all these years?”

“Kept what from me?” said Hayley eagerly.

“STOP! I FORBID YOU!” yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

“Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,” said Hagrid. “Hayley — yer a witch.”

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

“I’m a what?” gasped Hayley.

“A witch, o’ course,” said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, “an’ a thumpin’ good’un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With parents like yours, what else would yeh be? An’ I reckon it’s abou’ time yeh read yer letter.”

Hayley stretched out her hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Ms. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. She pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Hayley’s head like fireworks and she couldn’t decide which to ask first. After a few minutes she stammered, “What does it mean, they await my owl?”

“Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me,” said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl — a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl — a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Hayley could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Hayley her Letter.

Taking her to buy her things tomorrow.

Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Hayley realized her mouth was open and closed it quickly.

“Where was I?” said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

“She’s not going,” he said.

Hagrid grunted.

“I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop her,” he said.

“A what?” said Hayley, interested.

“A Muggle,” said Hagrid, “it’s what we call nonmagic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.”

“We swore when we took her in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,” said Uncle Vernon, “swore we’d stamp it out of her! Witch indeed!”

“You knew?” said Hayley. “You knew I’m a — a witch?”

“Knew!” shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. “Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!”

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

“Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as strange, just as — as — abnormal — and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!”

Hayley’s dark skin paled. As soon as she found her voice she said, “Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!”

“CAR CRASH!” roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. “How could a car crash kill Lily an’ Jamie Potter? It’s an outrage! A scandal! Hayley Potter not knowin’ her own story when every kid in our world knows her name!”

“But why? What happened?” Hayley asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid’s face. He looked suddenly anxious.

“I never expected this,” he said, in a low, worried voice. “I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin’ hold of yeh, how much yeh didn’t know. Ah, Hayley, I don’ know if I’m the right person ter tell yeh — but someone’s gotta — yeh can’t go off ter Hogwarts not knowin’.”

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

“Well, it’s best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh — mind, I can’t tell yeh everythin’, it’s a great myst’ry, parts of it. …”

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, “It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but it’s incredible yeh don’t know her name, everyone in our world knows —”

“Who?”

“Well — I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”

“Why not?”

“Gulpin’ gargoyles, Hayley, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this witch who went … bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. Her name was …”

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

“Could you write it down?” Hayley suggested.

“Nah — can’t spell it. All right — Voldemort.” Hagrid shuddered. “Don’ make me say it again. Anyway, this — this witch, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ’em, too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ her power, ’cause she was gettin’ herself power, all right. Dark days, Hayley. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches … terrible things happened. She was takin’ over. ’Course, some stood up to her — an’ she killed ’em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then, anyway.

“Now, yer parents were as good a pair a witches as I ever knew. Both head girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst’ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get ’em on her side before �� probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin’ ter do with the Dark Side.

“Maybe she thought she could persuade ’em … maybe she just wanted ’em outta the way. All anyone knows is, she turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. She came ter yer house an’ — an’ —”

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

“Sorry,” he said. “But it’s that sad — knew yer parents, an’ nicer people yeh couldn’t find — anyway …

“You-Know-Who killed ’em. An’ then — an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing — she tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe she just liked killin’ by then. But she couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer parents an’ yer house, even — but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous, Hayley. No one ever lived after she decided ter kill ’em, no one except you, an’ she’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.”

Something very painful was going on in Hayley’s mind. As Hagrid’s story came to a close, she saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than she had ever remembered it before — and she remembered something else, for the first time in her life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid was watching her sadly.

“Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter this lot …”

“Load of old tosh,” said Uncle Vernon. Hayley jumped; she had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

“Now, you listen here, girl,” he snarled, “I accept there’s something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn’t have cured — and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world’s better off without them in my opinion — asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types — just what I expected, always knew they’d come to a sticky end —”

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, “I’m warning you, Dursley — I’m warning you — one more word …”

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon’s courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

“That’s better,” said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Hayley, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them.

“But what happened to Vol-, sorry — I mean, You-Know-Who?”

“Good question, Hayley. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night she tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That’s the biggest myst’ry, see … she was gettin’ more an’ more powerful — why’d she go?

“Some say she died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if she had enough human left in her to die. Some say she’s still out there, bidin’ her time, like, but I don’ believe it. People who was on her side came back ter ours. Some of ’em came outta kinda trances. Don’ reckon they could’ve done if she was comin’ back.

“Most of us reckon she’s still out there somewhere but lost her powers. Too weak to carry on. ’Cause somethin’ about you finished her, Hayley. There was somethin’ goin’ on that night she hadn’t counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin’ about you stumped her, all right.”

Hagrid looked at Hayley with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Hayley, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A witch? Her? How could she possibly be? She’d spent her life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if she was really a wizard, why hadn’t they been turned into warty toads every time they’d tried to lock her in her cupboard? If she’d once defeated the greatest sorceress in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick her around like a football?

“Hagrid,” she said quietly, “I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a witch.”

To her surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

“Not a witch, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?”

Hayley looked into the fire. Now she came to think about it … every odd thing that had ever made her aunt and uncle furious with her had happened when she, Hayley, had been upset or angry … chased by Dudley’s gang, she had somehow found herself out of their reach … dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, she’d managed to make it grow back … and the very last time Dudley had hit her, hadn’t she got her revenge, without even realizing she was doing it? Hadn’t she set a boa constrictor on him?

Hayley looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at her.

“See?” said Hagrid. “Hayley Potter, not a witch — you wait, you’ll be right famous at Hogwarts.”

But Uncle Vernon wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

“Haven’t I told you xhe’s not going?” he hissed. “She’s going to Stonewall High and she’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and she needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands and —”

“If she wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop her,” growled Hagrid. “Stop Lily an’ Jamie Potter’s daughter goin’ ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Her name’s been down ever since she was born. She’s off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and she won’t know herself. She’ll be with youngsters of her own sort, fer a change, an’ she’ll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled—”

“I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HER MAGIC TRICKS!” yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, “NEVER —” he thundered, “— INSULT — ALBUS — DUMBLEDORE — IN — FRONT — OF — ME!”

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Hayley saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

“Shouldn’ta lost me temper,” he said ruefully, “but it didn’t work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn’t much left ter do.”

He cast a sideways look at Hayley under his bushy eyebrows.

“Be grateful if yeh didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts,” he said. “I’m — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an’ get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff — one o’ the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job —”

“Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” asked Hayley.

“Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.”

“Why were you expelled?”

“It’s gettin’ late and we’ve got lots ter do tomorrow,” said Hagrid loudly. “Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an’ that.”

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Hayley.

“You can kip under that,” he said. “Don’ mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o’ dormice in one o’ the pockets.”

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