#and her whole face kept getting so snowy from jamming her face into the snow

[pointy-pup]

snowy weekend mornings are the best kinds

#her whole ruff is frosted from her breath #and her whole face kept getting so snowy from jamming her face into the snow #she loves snow so much it brings me so much joy #luna #shepherd mix #gsd mix #we are now curled up inside in bed with coffee #<333

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Bonus Chapter: Colorado

Description: Takes place a year and a half after the first bonus chapter Back to the Beginning. The reader and Chris are married with life changes ahead. Original description for the series Conversations: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader, Scott Evans

Warning: Slightly NSFW (18+ only!), cursing, talk of pregnancy, fluff, Grumpy and Sassy shenanigans. 

A/N: Look who finally wrote a bonus chapter for Conversations! This girl, right here! Just a little timestamp in the reader and Chris’ life. And of course we needed some Scott time. You do not have to read the series to read this one shot, but it doesn’t hurt. Reblogs, comments, asks, what have you, I enjoy. 

Italics are internal thoughts

**

“Honestly, love, it’s fine,” you spoke softly into the phone, trying your best to keep your voice even. The last thing you want is for him to feel worse than he already does.

“I don’t know…” Chris trailed off. “Usually, when women say the word fine, they really don’t mean, fine.”

“Such a guy,” you chuckle. “I promise, Scott and I are going to have a terrific time. He’s taking care of me and promised not to get us into any trouble.” You raise an eyebrow at your travel companion seated next to you in the hired car.

Chris laughed and then followed it up with a groan. “That does not make me feel better. Put me on speaker.”

You rolled your eyes but did as he asked or rather demanded. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”

“Scott, you better take care of my wife. She’s precious cargo. And she’s carrying precious cargo. So, it’s extra precious cargo.”

You laughed; hand automatically going to your stomach. You were four months along and just starting to show. Family and close friends knew the two of you were expecting your first child, but the tabloids had not caught wind. The two of you had been going back and forth on whether to let People Magazine do an exclusive cover shoot when baby Evans is born. The money earned from People would be donated to charity which was the only reason you were even considering it. Plus, the whole you two breaking the news rather than the public finding out when you weren’t ready. Chris wanted to be the one to introduce his child to the world rather than having paparazzi sneaking into your backyard to get a picture. You couldn’t argue with him there.

“Would you relax! You’re going to give yourself a coronary and then I’d have to take care of both precious cargos and you don’t want that.” Scott shouted.

I really hope the driver doesn’t recognize Scott.

You smacked his arm, taking the call off speaker and bringing it back to your ear. “Chris, we are both going to be just fine. The plane ride was as relaxing as any plane ride can be and we are almost to the hotel. Scott and I are going to pamper ourselves and eat lots of great food. Work is important and I completely understand.”

Chris got called back to Los Angeles for reshoots that he couldn’t get out of. He planned a couple of mini babymoons and this was going to be the first one. Because of your advanced age – insert eyeroll – your doctor had mentioned it may not be safe to travel a lot once you were six months along. Chris took this seriously and booked a trip to Colorado at a gorgeous snowy mountain resort. There wouldn’t be any skiing, just loads of alone time and cuddling by the fireplace. When Chris had to cancel, Scott stepped in and volunteered the cuddles.

“This is one of the many reasons I love you. I’m just disappointed our romantic getaway is now being shared with Scott. My brother,” he said, voice in mock disgust.

“It’s fine. Scott and I haven’t hung out just the two of us in forever.” Scott reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Alright, sweetheart. Have a great time and rest please.”

“You know I will. I love you, babe. Say hi to Pedro for me,” you said, smile evident in your voice.

“I will. Love you too.”

**

“Mr. and Mrs. Evans?” The check in clerk, Barbara according to her nametag asked.

“That’s right,” Scott chimed in, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Newlyweds.”

You forced a smile and bit the inside of your cheek so that you wouldn’t laugh.

“Congratulations!” she replied with a sweet smile on her face.

She tapped her chin with her index finger before going back to her keyboard. “Let’s see what I can do here,” Barbara replied, typing away on the computer in front of her. “We have you in a one-bedroom suite with a mountain view, but,” she paused for dramatic effect. “I’m moving the two of you to one of our honeymoon suites.”

Scott gasped and slapped his hand on the countertop. “That’s mighty nice of you,” he spoke in a fake southern accent.

Where did that come from?

“Me and the misses really appreciate it. Don’t we honey?” he asked, turning his attention back to you.

“My pleasure,” Barbara said before you could reply, laying two room keycards on the counter next to Scott’s hand.

You smiled brightly but kept your mouth closed, so afraid of letting a chuckle out or saying the wrong thing. Scott steered you away from the counter, placing a hand on your bottom.

Once you turned the corner to the bank of elevators, you yanked Scott’s hand off your behind.

“Newlyweds. Really?”

“It got us an upgrade, didn’t it dear?”

**

The first night you were fine. Scott kept you occupied with stories of the single life and the wonders of online dating. You weren’t sure how he did it. Or rather, how he didn’t. After he told you about the guy who wore Barney the dinosaur underwear in a child’s size husky, you laughed until you cried.

“But did you still sleep with him?” you asked wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“Sassy! Of course not. Barneeeeyyyy,” he drawled out.

Shrugging your shoulders, you got up to grab yourself a tissue from the bathroom. Coming back in the room, Scott was on his phone, fingers swiping feverously. You plopped down on the couch, tucking one leg under yourself.

“Here,” Scott said, handing you his phone. On screen was what you would refer to as tall, dark, and handsome.

“He’s hot,” you said, passing the phone back to him.

“Barney.”

“No,” you gasped.

Scott sighed before he started to laugh which got you going once again.

**

The second day you weren’t so fine. The two of you ordered breakfast in the suite. Pancakes dripping with syrup, crispy thick cut bacon, sausage links, a bowl of mixed fruit, and decaf coffee because Scott was in solidarity with you on your caffeine hiatus.

“Let’s go for a walk. There are tons of trails that the resort clears of snow. I need to work off this breakfast,” Scott said patting his stomach.

“You and me both,” you said, getting up to put on actual clothes instead of the pajamas you were still wearing.

“You are so lucky. Get to eat whatever you want and can just blame it on the baby.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turned around to face him, lower lip slightly wobbling. Since the minute you found out you were pregnant, you found it really hard to control your emotions. You knew Scott didn’t mean anything by the commit, but your brain couldn’t help itself.

“I have to work really hard to be healthy. It’s bad enough the doctor said I’m old.” A sob escapes your lips. The tears already starting to roll down your cheeks. “I can’t have any caffeine, can’t eat a lot of my favorite foods, have to cut back on my salt. My salt! You know fries are my jam. Doesn’t help that my husband is built like a fucking Greek God. I’m not a model or an actress. I already feel like Dodger’s poo compared to him.”

Scott was out of his seat before you could utter another word. Strong arm pulling you to his chest while one hand cradled your head.

“Stop that. You are fucking beautiful and frankly my bonehead brother is lucky you agreed to marry him. Do you even know how many times I have had to leave the room in the last two months when he starts talking about you growing his child inside you and that it turns him on?” Scott pulls away slightly an emulates puking.

“Stop,” you said, burying your head in his neck.

“Why is my neck wet, Sassy.”

“It’s snot,” you said with a chuckle, wrapping your arm around him and holding on tight.

“You two are meant for each other.”

After a minute he pulled away and grasped both of your hands. “I’m with you in any way you need. If you need a healthy eating buddy, I am your man. If you want to say ‘to hell with it’, I’ll pick up McDonalds for the two of us every day if you like.”

You wiped at your eyes and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I love you Grumpy.”

“Love you too,” he replied and then clapped his hands together. “So, are we napping or are we walking?”

“Walking,” you stated, making your way into the bedroom to finally get changed.

That evening, the two of you got dressed up and went to your dinner reservation at the hotel where you were addressed as Mr. and Mrs. Evans. Scott stuck to sparkling water even though you encouraged him to get an alcoholic beverage.

“I don’t need to drink to be the life of the party. You know that.”

He wasn’t wrong. He’d kept you entertained even without the raspberry liquor he force fed you years ago.

“I think we need a dance party when we get back to the room. For old time sakes. Before I am too big to shake it.”

“Done and done.”

The night ended in a bubble bath with both you and Scott in your swimsuits in an oversized soaking tub. Dozens of pictures were taken with many going to your husband. Rather than a text in return, he called.

“What is this? My brother movin’ in on my wife?”

“Babe! You know that it was me and Scott from the start,” you teased.

Chris chuckled. “You go away for a couple of days and it’s like that.”

“You know you are my one and only. Scott’s just making me smile.”

“I know baby. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you said.

**

The next day you were weepy. As much as you tried to put on a happy face, you were missing Chris. Pregnancy hormones or not, Chris had been working a lot and you had barely seen each other. This romantic babymoon wasn’t what you had in mind. Yes, spending it with your best friend was great, but it wasn’t the same.

The fire place was roaring while Magic Mike was queued up on the flat screen. You and Scott were dressed in jeans and cable knit sweaters with fuzzy socks on your feet. The snow was coming down heavy which was fine with you since neither of you had any place to be.

Pop in hand, though you wouldn’t let Scott hear you call soda that, diet for you, regular for him, the only thing you were needing was Dodger’s wet nose on your stomach and Chris.

“You know, Chris can do that,” you said pointing at the screen where one of the dancers picked up an audience member like she weighed a pound.

“No. Stop. Do not ruin this movie for me. I do not need to picture what you and my brother do.”

“Scott, you do know where babies come from, right?”

“Gross.”

You chuckled, standing up to excuse yourself to the bathroom. Why you brought up Chris when you already cried twice this morning was beyond you. After using the bathroom, you cleaned up your face and stepped back into the living room of your suite.

Scott draped himself over the couch, phone in hand, eyes shifting between the screen of his phone and the TV.

“I think I’m going to take another bath. Need to relax a little bit.”

Scott looked up. “Not too hot.”

“Yes, dad,” you said, offering him a mock salute.

You kept the bath water warm, but added extra oils and bubbles to make it feel more luxurious. The lights were off but a few candles were lit and your phone played 90s R&B. You snapped a pic of your soapy legs and sent it to Chris. Within a few minutes you had a reply.

Chris: My brother better not be in there

Y/N: I’m all alone

Chris: We can’t have that

You heard the door open and you scolded yourself for not locking the door. This text conversation seemed to be heading into rated R territory. You did not need Scott to witness that.

“Scott,” you drawled out. “I’m not wearing my suit tonight. Get out of here.”

When you heard the distinct sound of a belt buckle, you turned around. Rather than Scott dropping his pants, it was Chris.

You gasped, mouth hanging open.

“Room for one more sweetheart?”

You nodded your head unable to form words but those tears had no trouble forming.

Chris continued to undress while you tried your best to compose yourself. He joined you a moment later slipping in behind you.

“How? I thought you were working.”

“I put in some long hours so that I could get to you. I was miserable without you.”

“I know that feeling,” you replied, leaning your head against his chest. Chris lightly rubbing your stomach before sliding his hands up to your breasts, fingers tips rubbing against your nipples. “Babe, did you lock the door?” you asked.

“Don’t worry, I got Scott another room.”

You reached your left hand behind you grabbing on to Chris’ head bringing his mouth to yours. Chris kissed you deeply, your back automatically arching at the taste of his tongue.

“Was he mad?” you asked.

“I don’t even care,” he replied, rubbing his nose against yours.

“Neither do I.”

Tagging: @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @estillion14 @panicfob @patzammit @xoxabs88xox @heartislubbingdubbing @twittytelly @linki-locks11 @ab-baybay @impalaimages @jesseswartzwelder @rainbowkisses31 @xostephanie @smoothdogsgirl @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xxloki81xx @firstangeldragonranch @soitmightgetweird @maeleeme @denisemarieangelina @rvgrsbrns @icanfeelastormbrewing @kitkat1690 @smilexcaptainx @dangerouslovefanfic@kelbabyblue @sweetlittlegingy @dont-need-another-fandom @chrisevansforever @evansxxx @southerngracela @bitterstar88 @squirrelnotsam @kitkatd7 @marvelislove10 @the-doctors-fallen-angel @hista-girl @cocomel0613 @also-fangirlinsweden @mustangshelby04 @bellaireland1981 @carolina-thiell @straightforwardly @torntaltos @denise1605 @mcuclintasha @iam-cj @trynnabemultifandom @chrisevansforever @kelbabyblue @broadwayandnetflix @kyjey @thevelvetseries​ @i-just-feel-like @daddieslittlefangirl @stankface @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @whymalu @mariswritingforfun @tessabb7​ @lakamaa12​ @deidrashouseofpain @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @greyeyedsmile14 @dangerouslovefanfic @ripvandrinkle @bitterstar88 @zestygingergirl @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @onceuponathreetwoone @supraveng @michelehansel @fanfictionaffair @agirlcanstilldream @what-is-your-plan-today @jessyballet @capstopavenger @wiczer @titty-teetee

#chris evans #scott evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fic #chris evans imagine #conversations

[shookethbrooketh]

stars

chapter 27

dan soundly slept through the night; he must have been tired, as every logical position said he would have woken up multiple times either from situational anxiety or discomfort of the hospital floor. when he woke up, sun was shining through the windows, and margo wasn’t breathing.

summary: dan grew up in a normal 1930s london family with his parents and little brother. everything was completely and utterly normal… until the bombs started dropping. When dan was fifteen his father went off to war, and when he was sixteen he and his brother hayden were sent off to a foster family in rural england. he looked up at the stars and couldn’t help but wonder how something that beautiful could exist in such a broken world. just when he thought things would never get better, dan met phil, and he became the shining star of his life. but when phil turned eighteen and went off to war, dan couldn’t help but wonder when, if ever, the stars would twinkle the same way again.

rating: t

genre: angst, fluff, history au, strangers to lovers, teenagers

whole fic warnings: warfare (not descriptive), bombings, fire, panic attacks, ptsd, epilepsy/seizures, homophobia, death, fighting/arguing, general angst, mentions of a car accident, hospitals chapter warnings: death, mentions of a car accident, hospitals, mentions of blood

chapter word count: 2.2k total word count: 40.4k

read it on ao3 read it on wattpad fic masterlist

a/n: this chapter’s super duper sad and kinda dark so be careful reading it! it should be better next chapter :) 

University was difficult for Dan, but he managed to keep up. As a law student, he’d found himself in about the hardest program possible, but the time it took up managed to distract him from all the people he missed. 

Of course, he still wrote to both Phil and Hayden every day, but his studies kept him from thinking about them every moment of every day, which was an extreme step up. 

His first semester was the hardest for multiple reasons. Being alone for the first time was a terrible struggle; he barely knew how to provide for himself. Had it not been for his roommate, he probably wouldn’t have managed to remember his schedule or even buy food. 

Luckily, he did make some friends while he was there. He chose to avoid most of the party scenes after being invited to one party and being hit on by multiple girls, but he found himself in plenty of study groups with other kids sharing his same struggles. He even met a few people who had loved ones off in the war and managed to bond with them over the shared situation. It was surprising, through all the stress, but Dan was somehow happy there. 

Despite his happiness at uni, Dan was even happier when his midterms were finished and it was time to go home for Christmas holiday.

When he pulled into the driveway, Hayden was waiting on the porch, bundled up in the cold. “Danny!” he shouted, and Dan was more than happy with the fact that he would never forget the joy on the child’s face. Dan jumped out of the truck and ran up to give him a hug. He’d gotten taller since Dan left. 

There was a certain warmth coming from the hug; he hadn’t left his brother since he was born, and reuniting with him after a few, long months was sweet enough that it materialized in warmth. 

Spending the holidays with Hayden and the family was nice, but being back in the house with nothing to do made it difficult not to think about Phil. Everything he did brought a sense of joy about him, even when it was negative, because he felt at home throughout it all, but he also felt a deep sadness he refused to acknowledge. Everything reminded him of both Hayden and Phil, and they just balanced out for him to have a decent holiday.

It was nice to head back up to the tree on the days when it wasn’t snowing or freezing; he even took Hayden with him so it would be just like the days of the past summer. On snowy days, he managed to have a snowball fight or two with Hayden, just as they did with Phil two years earlier. 

It was odd to think two years had passed; time was a bizarre construct that Dan had yet to figure out through the chaos. The day he first arrived two years earlier was one of the hardest for Dan to spend at the house, but he made it through. 

After a bittersweet few weeks, it was finally time for Dan to head back to uni. Dan and Hayden both were a bit less of wrecks that time, which comforted Dan plenty. Both knew it was time for Dan to go back to his adult life. 

It was about halfway through the spring semester when Dan was approached by the head of his dorm and told he was wanted by the president of the school. Dan was anxious as he approached the office, but it was significantly worse than he had thought. 

“Mr Howell, correct?” he asked, and Dan nodded. “We’ve received a call from a hospital in southwest England. Do you happen to have a brother named Hayden?” 

Dan’s heart raced. Hayden must have had an episode with his epilepsy. “Yes, sir; he’s my brother.” 

“He told the doctors to call you, and they called the university and told me to relay the message. He and who I assume are your parents were in a car crash last night. He’s alright, but your parents are in critical condition. I’m sorry.” 

Dan’s mind joined his heart in the race, and he hadn’t a clue what to say. “Thank you,” he muttered before blankly standing and walking out of the room. He had no memory of the latter of this interaction; he was buried in his own thoughts. 

Were they going to be alright? What would happen to Hayden if something happened to Margo and Harold? How could he ever tell Phil? What if Dan never got the chance to tell Margo how much she’d helped him after Phil left? Dan ran around campus to all his professors to tell them he’d have to go before frantically packing his things and hitting the road. He had to go home. 

He arrived at the same hospital where they’d taken Hayden for his past seizures and inquired a secretary near the front entrance as to whether or not the family was there. 

“Do you have Margo and Harold Lester?” he asked, eyes wide with anticipation and fear. 

“What’re they in for?” she asked in a careless voice. 

“They were in a car crash.” 

“Ask emergency.” 

Dan rolled his eyes and trekked to the emergency room, where he was told they’d been taken to intensive care. He finally made it to the ICU and the secretary there gave him a room number.

Margo and Harold were the only two in the room. The fact that Hayden didn’t have to be surrounded by complete strangers would have reassured him had he not been brought to tears just by the sight of them. It was barely possible to tell who they were; Harold was in a full body cast, and Margo had multiple casts on her body and even more bruises. A sob escaped his mouth as he looked at them; they were both unconscious. It was only a moment later when Dan realized Hayden was nowhere to be found. He was about to panic when a doctor walked in. 

“You must be Daniel,” the doctor said, looking down at his clipboard. 

“Yes, I am.” 

“Your brother is downstairs in the cafeteria. We’ve tried to find him somewhere else to go, but he refused to leave and had us call you. A nurse took him to get some food; they’ll be back soon.” 

“Thank you, doctor. What happened?” Dan gestured towards the beds, refusing to look back at them again. He couldn’t imagine Hayden having had to witness that tragedy occur.

“They were driving and were hit head on by a drunkard. The front half of the car was bashed in, and they were both hit hard. Your brother was in the backseat, so he was flung forward and hit the driver’s seat. He’s got a good few bruises, and he jammed his arm in between the seat and the door and broke it, but he’s generally doing alright. Obviously he’s already been discharged.”

Dan nodded, speechless. “Hayden!” he shouted as he saw the boy coming up behind the doctor. A nurse wandered behind him nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. 

“Oh, good, the brother. Finally.” She didn’t seem to care much. 

Dan tried to hug Hayden, but he winced, so he backed off. He took a step back and looked at his brother; he had a bandaged cut on his forehead and bruises on one arm and a cast on the other. Regardless, he was beaming. “It’s so good to see you.” 

The first night was the easiest; Dan took Hayden home and they packed him a hospital bag full of his favorite clothes, toys, and snacks. They spent the evening together in front of the radio, and Dan couldn’t help but feel odd being in the house without Margo and Harold. There was a certain emptiness about it he couldn’t quite describe. 

They slept at the house that night and drove back to the hospital in the morning. There was an unwritten agreement that they simply wouldn’t talk about the incident. Dan couldn’t imagine how Hayden was feeling; after all he’d been through, he ended up in a car accident watching the second set of parents he got nearly bleed to death. 

They arrived at the hospital to a doctor holding them out of the room. “Harold is having a bit of an...incident. Have you had breakfast yet? You should go get some breakfast.” 

“We’ve already eat-” Before Dan even had a chance to finish, the doctor whipped back around and rushed back into the room. Dan sighed and took Hayden’s hand. “Do you want some ice cream?” 

Dan didn’t love feeding his brother ice cream at 10:00 in the morning, but he assumed it was better than whatever was to be found in the hospital room. They came back upstairs two ice cream cones later to find Harold hooked up to a breathing machine. “Why don’t you find something fun to play with in your backpack?” he asked Hayden, and he nodded and went to the chair in the corner of the room, where he started looking through his bag for something to occupy him. “I’ll be right back.” 

Dan left the room and found the doctor he’d spoken to the day before. “What happened to him?” 

“They’re both suffering from a lot of internal bleeding, and his flared up. Neither of them are stable; if I’m being honest with you, I don’t know if they’ll make it through the day.” 

Dan took a deep breath and bit his lip, looking back at Hayden in the corner of Margo and Harold’s room. “Thank you.”

He turned on his heel and walked over to Hayden, who was playing solitaire. “Got room for another?” 

It was a slow day of card games and hospital food until Harold gasped. Both the boys jumped and turned to his bed, where he was writhing in pain. Dan turned to Hayden, who looked about ready to cry on the site. “Come on,” he said, pulling him out of the room. “Doctor!” 

They let the doctors rush past them in a second attempt to save Harold, and Hayden started to cry. “Danny, is he dying?” 

Dan took a split second to consider this question. “I don’t know,” he replied, and Hayden’s sobs got louder. His parenting skills could definitely use some work. “But it’s going to be okay, alright? We’ve gotten through a lot together over the years, and we’re going to get through this.” 

Hayden’s cries softened until they stopped, and Dan wiped the tears from his brother’s puppy dog eyes. “Okay.” 

A doctor came out of the room and threw his bloody gloves in a trash can. “I’m sorry,” he said to the two of them, putting on a sad face although Dan knew this wasn’t new to him, “he’s gone.” 

Dan took Hayden’s hand and led him in to where Harold lay lifeless. He had a bit of blood around his mouth, but otherwise he looked as normal as a dead person could. “Do you want to say goodbye?” 

Hayden held back tears this time, as if he’d accepted the situation. Dan was so numb by then that he couldn’t think or feel enough to cry. “Goodbye, Harold.” He stood there for a moment, taking and squeezing his limp hand. “Thank you.” 

Dan finally broke at that, holding back tears of his own. “Bye, then,” he said, smiling weakly at the man who took him in. He thought of the times he’d taken Dan out driving. “Thanks for everything.” 

The doctors took him away shortly after, stopping to tell Dan they expected Margo to follow. According to them, it wouldn’t be as violent, but she was doing gradually worse rather than better. Eventually, her body would simply stop functioning.

After Hayden fell asleep in the chair, Dan stood at Margo’s bedside clutching her hand. “Please don’t leave,” he whispered. “I just want to be able to tell you how much you matter to me. Never has anyone supported me as much as you, save for Phil and maybe Hayden. I thought it was impossible, but you truly took on the role of my mum while I’ve been away from her. I don’t know how to express how thankful I am for that.” He paused for a moment, looking up at her closed eyes. In the dark, she reminded him of Phil. “And thank you for giving me the love of my life.”

Dan soundly slept through the night; he must have been tired, as every logical position said he would have woken up multiple times either from situational anxiety or discomfort of the hospital floor. When he woke up, sun was shining through the windows, and Margo wasn’t breathing. 

He left Hayden asleep and got up to call a doctor in; they concluded that she didn’t have a pulse, and Dan woke up Hayden. “It’s time to say goodbye.” 

This was a rougher goodbye for the both of them; apparently Hayden had grown closer to Margo since Dan had left. When they eventually wheeled her out, Dan slid down against the wall, his head in his hands. He’d been expecting this result, and although they both cried over Margo, Dan’s thoughts were occupied mostly by something else.

“How am I going to tell Phil?” 

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phic stuff #stars #chapter 27 #dong and ping

[peccolias]

New Monster in Town

Unfinished Undertale reader-insert fic i’ll probably never finish. please don’t take it seriously, just read for laughs. or not. up to you!

Genre: Humor, Gen

Warnings: Language, mentioned alcohol use/abuse (just a bit). OOC probably.

Words: ~3,500

Summary: Halloween dares kind of suck. But you’re kind of weak to them and kind of tipsy so you decide to go through with one anyway. That being, to hike up the big scary Mount Ebott, take a selfie at the peak, and come home victorious—or, well, with bragging rights to lord over your friends’ heads because none of them have ever shown the guts to make the trip.

You didn’t think you’d end up falling down a hole in the mountain.

You also didn’t think your Halloween costume would end up saving your life.

--

“Stupid—thing—off!”

This is the fifth time you’ve tried. But it just won’t budge.

The all-consuming eyeball mask is stuck fast around your head—this is the last situation you ever thought you’d find yourself in. It’s beyond dumb. Embarrassing, even. Like something out of an R.L. Stine novel.

Your fingers slide against gritty rubber as you try once more to pry your head out of the neck hole that was so easy to put your head through but…like a knock-off so-called Chinese finger trap, so difficult to get out of if you’re an idiot—and you did something pretty dumb to end up here, so you suppose you are.

On the bright side, it kept you from banging up your face or getting a black eye on the vicious tumble down.

Ha ha. Yeah. The only black eye you have is the one stuck to your face.

God.

You heave a sigh and collapse next to the bed of flowers that broke your fall. Some are a little trampled thanks to your blindly stomping around on them, but more or less intact. Good. Just because it’s a shit day for you doesn’t mean you have to ruin it for them, too.

It’s hard to see through the opaque, mesh pupil in your mask, and the lack of light isn’t helping any, but it doesn’t look like there’s a way out from here unless you want to climb a good few feet. Like, maybe hundreds.  And needless to say, you’re a lot better at falling.

Your hands are grimy, smeared with dirt and sweat and a little blood, scraped up from the fall, because the tan garden gloves didn’t do much to protect them on the way down. Not in any condition to try climbing up anything. You swat a few strings of heavy yellow yarn away from your arms as you pull the thick gloves back on, if only to keep the scratches from getting more clogged up with dirt.

Really, this whole situation is your fault. For being dumb enough to dress up as one half of the Flying Spaghetti Monster for this dumb candy holiday, and for coming up to Mount Ebott by yourself. At night. Not to mention trespassing.

It probably wasn’t a serious dare. You and your friends like to dick around and do stuff like that all the time when there’s too much alcohol at boring campus parties and…well, usually, no one even bothers to go through with them. In your defense, you don’t usually drink so much.

You’re not sure what lit a fire under your ass to make you come all the way out here without even letting anyone but your Uber driver know. Who, frankly, probably wished you would disappear when you puked all over his back seat. Oops.

Well, wish fucking granted. Good for him.

Not good for you. You’re stuck here with no food, no water, and no way out.

And this stupid mask stuck on your head.

But…wait a second.

Your butt is wet—not because you pissed yourself or anything, because wouldn’t that just be a kick in the teeth after everything, but because you sat right in a puddle.

You rip off a glove and grab at the flowers beside you. Wet. They’re damp—and there hasn’t been any rain for weeks, so it didn’t fall from above.

Which means…someone watered them! And unless that someone is a highly skilled mountain climber who makes it their business to scale a deep mountain hole just to take care of a patch of pretty flowers, it means there is a way out of this place.

What a way to get motivated. You leap to your feet and jam your glove back onto your hand before marching forward—and promptly smacking into a stalagmite.

Again, you’re a little thankful for this rubber helmet of a mask. Otherwise your nose might be broken right about now.

This time, carefully, and using your hands to reach out and seek obstacles, you explore the cavern for an exit.

Lo and behold, you find a tunnel.

--

You kind of wish you stayed in that cavern with the hole in the ceiling.

Because it made sense. It sucked, but it made sense.

Having a yellow flower spewing words, actual words at you, just didn’t, because that kind of trip belongs in Alice in Wonderland. And you’re not even drunk anymore. So it doesn’t compute.

The talking doesn’t last long. As soon as the flower gets a good look at you, its flowery face freezes in disgust.

“What….what the heck are you supposed to be?”

“Flying Spaghetti Monster.” It’s probably not what the posey is asking, but that’s your answer.

“A…monster?”

“Flying Spaghetti Monster,” you repeat, gently correcting it.

Its face scrunches in disdain as it eyes your…giant eye.

You really didn’t say much. But what little you did say is enough to satisfy this creature, because it falls silent, at a loss, like it’s trying hard to solve a math problem it doesn’t have the proper resources to navigate. So you creep by while it’s occupied and go on your merry way. Wherever that is.

“WAIT A SECOND!”

You halt when the flower screeches at you and you try to glance over your shoulder before realizing you can’t see shit and end up doing a full one-eighty just to see what the problem is.

“You liar, you’re a human! I can see your SOUL.” Just as it says that, something pops out from your chest and hovers in front of you, glowing. Really, all you can see is the glow. You’re not really sure what it is or why it came out of you.

It’s kind of gross.

“Ew, what is this?” You poke at it, and it wiggles a little before going still. Like jello.

“I said it’s your SOUL, dingbat. Not that you really need to know. You won’t be alive much longer. Just for trying to be so clever, I’ll end you quick.” There’s a positively cruel lilt to the creature’s tone that you don’t like one bit.

You hold up your hands and slowly back away. “Hey, what’s with the attitude? You want some fertilizer or something? Look, I don’t know what’s going on here. I just want to go back home and sleep before the hangover kicks in.”

“Oh, you’ll sleep. Forever!”

Something blasts into you from the side and knocks you into the rocky wall. “Ow, fuck, what was that?” Not that you’ve ever been shot, but you imagine this might be what it feels like. Throbbing pain, draining energy, despair—

Blurry shapes circle before you and begin to zero in, ready to catch you in their crosshairs, and you think maybe you won’t be able to get home after all and maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a stupid costume because, really, there’s no way in hell you want people to find your corpse dressed like this.

But before you have the time to start saying your prayers, a fireball whizzes past you and knocks into the flower, carrying it away with a yell.

“Oh, you poor…thing.”

Great. Someone else who doesn’t recognize your costume.

Not that you blame her. Her…a giant, walking, talking goat woman.

Is it even worth getting worked up over at this point?

She’s trying her best to be nice, but you can feel the awkward radiating off of her in waves. There’s a burning question hanging in the air and you’re pretty sure you know exactly what it is.

“What manner of…monster…are you, exactly?” she asks.

“Flying Spaghetti Monster.”

“I do not believe I have ever seen your kind in these Ruins. How did you find yourself in this place?”

“Uh…wrong turn?”

“…Very well. Follow me and I will show you the way out.”

--

One excruciatingly long walk later, you find yourself on the other side of a large door and abandoned to the cold, snowy landscape stretching out before you.

Not any better off than before.

Your tan, fleece-lined UDD boots drag through the snow as you walk (again with the walking—if you knew you’d have to exert your physical side this much you would have worn better shoes) and melted snow seeps through the soles the farther you go.

Until you stop.

Wait.

The hell is snow doing under a mountain? You know some places underground have their own independent weather systems, but—snow?  Inside?

Above you, far above, there’s a rocky cave ceiling. It’s hidden beneath a thin covering of fog—clouds?—but there nonetheless. Darn. You thought maybe you’d gotten lucky and finally found the way out.

Turns out that goat woman monster meant the ‘way out’ was just another area under the mountain.

So many weird things have already happened you’re not really sure how to react anymore.

Really. Once you get home, you’re never partying out late at night again. And never taking a dare again. Probably not ever touching another beer, either.

Still…you’re taking one for the team, here, so might as well make the best of a bad situation.

You fish your phone out of your pocket beneath the costume and attempt to take a quick selfie. It’s hard to see the screen through your mask, and really, the only thing you manage to snapshot is a big screenful of your eyeball mask.

You try again.

Just a giant pupil dominating the screen. With a tiny glint of your face’s outline behind it, shadowed and obscured.

Maybe just one more, peace sign and all—

Something cracks behind you as the flash goes off, and your phone slips from your hand. Dammit. It’s hard enough holding it with the gloves. Picking it out of the snow is going to be a pain.

You crouch down and try to grip the slim device, ready to run if you need to because who knows just what the heck is out wandering around this place, but like hell you’ll leave your expensive phone behind.

But—it—just—won’t—stay in your hand—

Fine. Ugh.

You straighten up and turn around, trying to run your hands through your hair before your gloves and mask stop you from doing that.

Then—

“hey.”

Oh holy shit.

An ungodly, strangled shriek escapes you when someone speaks and you turn back around to set your eyes on a walking, talking skeleton. Who is holding out your phone. With a bony hand.

And a broad smile.

“easy there, did i scare ya? i’m surprised you didn’t see me coming.”

You squint—not that he can see. All that this skeleton guy’s presented with is an unblinking, giant eyeball. Again, he holds out your phone, nodding a little, pushing you to take it. Still smiling.

“this is yours, right? pretty updated model. nice find in the garbage dump?”

“Uh.” You reach out and grab the phone, a little more delicately than you would under normal circumstances, but what if you, like, accidentally rip his hand off? The joints look worryingly disconnected. And is he calling your latest and greatest piece of technology a piece of junk?

“don’t think i’ve seen you around before.” He looks past you, over your shoulder—or around your arm, really, because you’re not that much taller than him but the giant eye counts for something and takes up most of your shoulder space. “the name’s sans. sans the skeleton.”

He holds out a hand again, the friendly, universal symbol of “shake my hand, my dude,” but you’re not…quite comfortable with that. Fragile-looking joints and all that. You really don’t want to pull his hand off, so you quote something familiar instead.

“Ah, yes. ‘Last scene of all/ That ends this strange eventful history/ Is second childishness and mere oblivion/ Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.’”

But he just stands there grinning. On second thought, it might just be that his face is stuck that way.

Fuck. This is so weird.

“Because—you’re…. You’re just the skeleton. Uh, it’s the only Shakespeare quote I know.” You try to elaborate, but he doesn’t say anything. “I guess you do have the teeth, though…”

Fuck. You’re so weird.

After a minute of defeated silence passes, and after you shove your phone back inside your spaghetti body, you hesitantly reach out and encase his skeletal fingers in your glove. Lightly. Very lightly. Then immediately let go.

Or try to, at least. The faux noodle loops of your costume tangle around his thumb and jerk his arm forward as you pull back and oh god oh god it’s going to pop off, isn’t it—

Of course you squeezed your eyes shut awaiting the inevitable, despite your outer eye remaining wide open.

After a beat, the skeleton clears his throat.  

“didn’t realize we got so tied up in conversation.”

“Oh—uh. Yeah. Right. Sorry about that.” You look down at the tangled threads and reach out to try and shimmy them loose—but your gloves aren’t helping at all and possibly making things worse. Sheesh. You just want to leave. How awkward. Probably more awkward for him, though, what with a giant eye staring at him the entire time.

Sans reaches forward and attempts loosening the yarn tangled in his magically-connected metacarpals but to no avail. How in the hell did they get so tangled up in such a short time? “so do you have a name? where did you come from?”

“I’m….how do I say this. Lost?”

“nice to meet you, lost.”

“No—ugh. Are you kidding me? I mean I’m literally lost. My name’s Y/N. Uh.” Shit. You didn’t really want to let your name slip like that but the dumb joke caught you off-guard. Not only that, but…he’s the first monster that’s openly interrogated you like this. The flower was set on murderizing you, it seemed, and the goat didn’t really want anything to do with you aside from kicking you out like an irritated landlady.

But…this guy can’t be in his right mind for willingly speaking to a walking Spaghetti Monster. Maybe it’s like weird meets weird and cancels itself out. There’s gotta be some law about that, somewhere. If you could use your phone without dropping it, you’d give the ol’ Gooble search a visit and find out.

“Or if you’re feeling pretty bold, you could always call me the great and mighty pasta overlord.”

He ignores you.

“and where exactly did you come from?”

He’s oddly persistent. But you don’t suppose that’s strange because you’re the stranger here.

“I don’t know.” You wave a glove in a vague direction. “Around?”

The strings attached to the arm of your costume go taught as he pulls his hand around them. Ugh. After all the effort it took to make this ugly costume, you’d be pretty pissed if it tore. You let him drag your arm along to prevent that. And to prevent potential popping of joints.

“really? never heard of it. looks like you might’ve come from the ruins. but those doors back there don’t open often. at all, really. hasn’t happened once since i’ve been posted here.”

“So…I came out of the ruins to see what’s outside?” You don’t know why you’re phrasing it all as a question like guesswork at a fill-in-the-blank, but you’re stuck. Literally and figuratively.

“…you lived in the ruins?”

“Yeah?” Automatic answers usually get you into automatic trouble, but you think probably this is a good thing this time. “Got a little too small for me. Wanted to get out and see the, uh, wide and wild world?”

He stares you down for a moment. You can’t get a good grasp on whether that’s a good or bad thing before he just shrugs and shakes his head a little.

“guess you’re mostly new to the underground, then. not really the first time this has happened, but you’re the first to come out from the ruins.” He gives you a quick, suspicious once-over again before letting up on the yarn. “come on. i’ll take you to snowdin. if we run into my brother along the way, he can untangle this stuff for sure. he’s great at that.”

“Right. Right! Lead the way and I will follow. Both by choice and because I can’t really help it.”

“good thing I know a shortcut…”

--

Snowdin is…you guessed it. More snow.

So much of it that you’ve gotten used to being ankle-deep in the stuff. It’s the fact that this one-man—er, skeleton—welcoming committee is dragging you along by the arm that’s really concerning at this point—and you’re not the only one who thinks so, because it draws quite a few stares from residents. Assuming it’s not just your weird costume doing it.

“this is the inn. probably where you’re gonna want to stay while you get the hang of this place.” He tilts his head towards one of the two cabin-like buildings on the outskirts of the small village and he’s trying to be helpful, you know, but it’s not really helping because you’re broke.

“I kinda don’t have any money.”

“no problem. my pal grillbz can always use an extra set of hands at his bar.”

Your nose wrinkles behind your mask. “There’s a bar here?” Alcohol is what got you into this mess—you don’t want to be anywhere near it anytime soon.

“the best around. it really sets itself as far as dining goes.”

“Was that a— Anyway, I don’t have a resume.” And you’re fresh out of any intent to stay in this place. As soon as this tangled mess gets sorted out, you’re gone. Back to a world you know. Back to a job you already have and really need to get to.

“well, what’re you good at?”

“Have you met me?” You lift up the yarn-covered arm his hand is still tangled up in and shrug, holding your free arm akimbo.

His smile looks a lot like a grimace.

“SANS!”

Before he can say anything, you’re both approached by a…nother skeleton. A tall one, this time, at least more human in proportion. Except for the buff, spherical biceps. Yeah. Maybe not so human after all. But you totally dig his hot pants and plan to buy a pair on your way out of this place.

“I’VE BEEN LOOKING ALL OVER FOR YOU, AND I FIND YOU SLACKING OFF WITH…WITH…”

Boy, is this getting old. You shift your boots in the snow and try to hold out your right hand to introduce yourself—before stopping short, remembering you’re a little caught up. You drop it again, eyeing Sans at your side. Still grinning. “The Flying Spaghetti Monster.” There’s no enthusiasm in your mask-muffled voice whatsoever. Not even a little. You offer your free hand instead. “Nice to meet ya. I hope.” It isn’t, but you’re trying to be polite.

“…WITH THE FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER!” he continues, ignoring the gesture and stomping a foot in the snow, sending a few ungrounded flurries your way. “NOW, I’M NOT SURPRISED AT YOUR COLOSSAL LAZINESS, BUT I AM DISAPPOINTED YOU DRAGGED ANOTHER—WAIT. DID YOU SAY ‘SPAGHETTI?’”

His response makes up for your lack of enthusiasm entirely—never in your life have you seen someone’s eyes light up and sparkle at the mere mention of pasta, of all things. His brightened mood is so dazzling you take an involuntary step back, dragging Sans with you.

“SANS! DID YOU HEAR THAT? DID YOU KNOW? THERE’S—THERE’S A SPAGHETTI MONSTER IN THE UNDERGROUND! I HAVEN’T BEEN THIS EXCITED SINCE SANTA GIFTED ME A SPAGHETTI STRAINER! OH, HOW AMAZING! WOULD YOU—WOULD YOU APPRAISE MY CULINARY TALENTS, SPAGHETTI MONSTER?”

You look at Sans again as the tall skeleton opposite you smacks his gloved hands to his cheekbones in wonder. “Is this your brother?”

“yep, that’s papyrus. isn’t he cool?” Sans’ eye sockets crinkle at the edges. At this point, you’re too exhausted to even question it. Too cold, too. “it’d mean a lot to him if you said yes. he’d be more inclined to help us out here, then we could put this all in the pasta.”

Well, suffering a pasta fanatic can’t be any worse than having to deal with terrible puns. Plus, it sounds like you may be getting a free meal alongside getting freed. It’s a win-win.

“Alright. The almighty pasta overlord will grant your request—but for a price. I’m in a predicament here, see? I heard you’re not just great at making spaghetti, but also at fixing problems like this.” You lift up your (and Sans’s) tangled hand, high enough that it’s in his line of sight. “Help untangle us and I’ll appraise anything you want.”

“WHY—YES! I AM. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL WOW YOU WITH MY PROBLEM-SOLVING SKILLS AND MY SPAGHETTI!” He sets his hands on his hips—pelvic bones, whatever—and puffs out his chest before darting away, scarf-cape fluttering at his shoulders like a hero that’s supposed to steal your swooning heart, but doesn’t.

You look down at the trail of footsteps he left in his wake behind before sighing. “I’m way too sober for this.”

#peccolia writes stuff #this is from 2016 don't @ me #but i hope you enjoyed reading #before halloween gets any farther away

[rhinestonerespect]

The Story I Hate to Tell

TW rape, violence

Yeah- don't read this if you don't wanna. For me this is an exercise in narrative. I've been stuck on poetry for many years and it is not working for me right now. My stories are in dire need of some clarity. Luckily I have diaries and conversations with friends to reference to make sure I have this right. I remember well. Too well.

My body still remembers it's trauma this time of year. It's been 5 years.

Part one:

The person that raped me was not the person who first attempted to rape me. The first actual rape attempt I experienced as an adult was a mutual friend of my roommate's. I had maybe five people over my mother's house drinking one night. Not heavily. Just a casual evening among legal college people. This guy had eyes for me so bad the whole night; it made me squirm. I did not feel attracted to him. When he asked if he could stay a little longer after my friends left, I said, "I'll be right back. Gotta pee." hoping he would just leave. (It is here that I cringe at myself for not just saying no.)

When I came out of the bathroom he was in my bedroom. I had not invited him in there. I walked in trying to figure out how I was going to say that I was tired and going to call it a night, but he grabbed me immediately. He forced a kiss and held me by the throat, squeezing more and more on my airway very slowly and started to fumble with the button on my pants.

I struggled for some seconds that I remember. But then THIS is precisely where I black out. I don't know if I lost consciousness from him choking me or if I have a short gap in my memory, but the next thing I know I am straddling him on my bed with the searing hot red lava lamp in my hand held over his face. And I'm saying "Get. The. Fuck. Out."

He then apologizes over and over and over and slinks away from me and grabs his keys and is gone. I had dropped the lamp on the floor. I remember it burned a little spot in the carpet. The burn on my hand took time to heal. I couldn't feel it at all until minutes after I saw his car leaving my street.

The person who did actually rape me was a friend. I had known him for years, but not intimately. After I dropped out of college we had the same crowd. Wasn't a healthy crowd for me. Party animals. Dissociated and shallow. They liked me because I was pretty and permissive. At the time, I was so low on self-esteem and agency that it literally gave me a life to hang out with them. I was like a doll. They dressed me up and watched me flail. I had felt like a reject and a disappointment, but they accepted me. And gave me lot's of drugs. Played all my favorite jams and asked me to twerk upside down against the fridge while they cheered. I am wondering now if I can still do a headstand.

It was on a late frigid night in January (January the 24th 2014 actually) that we had gathered in the trailer to do our usual damage. My girlfriend "A" was there. She'd had a fight with her boyfriend and wanted to get drunk and cut loose. There was a boy there who slowly throughout the evening warmed up to capitalizing on that mood of hers. Other than that, just the three people who lived there were present by the time our psychoactive substances started to kick in. We were drunk, also.

My 'friend' and I had drunkenly made out twice before. Both times I had declined going further and he was ok with us just snuggling and falling asleep. He actually fell asleep first on both occasions. That night he was very wide eyed. He kept grabbing my face to kiss me, which is generally a thing I enjoy from a lover's standpoint.

Things started to get bad when I 'decided' (I had a lot of coercion here) to go and get the 'moon rock' my ex lover had given me to make into an engagement ring. It was at my dad's place where I was staying. He came with me to retrieve it. I drove - which was extremely dangerous. I was out of my mind on the drugs. On the way back, he was groping me heavily. I remember yelling at him about it because I was scared to crash. I wanted to get back to my friend A because she was drunk and sad and I was supposed to take her home in the morning.

I did crash. A combination of being under the influence, being groped, and the black ice all over the roads.  We spun around and crashed into the riverbank; my back wheels were on the frozen river spinning uselessly. The front end of the car was lodged tilted upwards in a snowy bank of cattails. We hadn't been going fast so the shock of the moment was not too terribly dramatic. However, I realized later that the characteristic bruises on my chest in particular were from my seatbelt.

It took us about 15 or 20 minutes of spinning wheels, pushing, and pulling to SOMEHOW MIRACULOUSLY dislodge my car from that spot. I still think it's insane that we were able to. My car was only dented in a few spots and had cattails hanging off of a few places. I remember, I lost some things in the snow out of a makeup bag I had packed to stay the night. I picked my dress I wanted to sleep in out of the snow, but left whatever else it was- eyeliner pencils and things.

When we got back to the trailer A was asleep on top of the guy who had wanted to take advantage of her being drunk and mad at her boyfriend. I should note, that I'm fairly sure she also took advantage of that situation. So my friend and I went into the bathroom to continue our business. We were making out when one of the people that lived there burst in on us and then laughed and went back to bed. We were still mutually enjoying each other at that moment.

Shortly after something changed. I did not expect it at all. I pulled back as I had done before when I wanted to stop and it was as if he suddenly had lost all patience with me. He grabbed me hard by the throat and slammed me back into the shower wall. There was a metal towel rack that badly bruised my back. It hurt in that moment very badly even with all the drugs. I was breathless and frozen in place for a moment.  After everything that had happened that night, I had finally started to panic.

Then I told him I wanted to just go to bed in the living room. I was not tired. I was, at that point, deeply in shock and afraid of him. I went into the living room where our friends were sleeping. He pulled me down onto the mattress on the floor. I was worried about being quiet because it was so late. Still I said "Stop" and "I don't want to" and I can remember saying those things perhaps only because at that point it was as if I were watching myself say them. Uselessly. Like I had left my body on the floor underneath him and was watching from the ceiling just over us.

He shushed me. I remember that too. I remember how badly the spot on my back hurt. And my body in general.

He bit my mouth closed after a minute so that I couldn't keep protesting and then took my pants off and forced himself on me. Quickly and then done, but painful. Everything felt so painful and wrong. I bled on that mattress. I stopped struggling once he was done. He rolled off of me and then after some moments that were as timeless as anything, I heard him snoring.

I carefully got up so as not to wake anyone and tried to find what of my belongings I could. My coat. My car keys. My shoes. I left my purse and some clothes. Then I went outside. It was freezing and I didn't have pants. There was blood on my bare legs and walking was very difficult. My body kept seizing up and I had to try hard to deliberately put a foot in front of the other.

There was a walk down an icy hill to my car and as soon as I got outside, I saw that there was a cop parked right in front of my car. It was around 4 in the morning by then.  He was idling there just to be off the street.  It’s funny because every other time I've seen a cop in my life, I generally panic, but this time I was hopeful.  I knew that I wasn’t ok.  I did not want to drive.  I did not want to go home.  I wanted help.

I took careful steps down towards the cop and saw his face look up at me.  He put his car in gear perhaps thinking that I was one of the cars parked behind him and needed to leave.  So I WAVED.  I waved at him and I know he saw me. He was looking right at me.  I kept walking towards him and waving.

He drove away.  

And so I got in my car and drove myself back to my dad’s house.  I took a bath for hours.  When the water got cool, I’d let out a little and just fill it up again with super hot water.  Eventually when I got out I realized I would not be able to face my family like a normal being and would have to leave the house again before anyone woke up.  I didn’t have my phone so I couldn't try to contact any of my friends for help.

I got on my computer and sent a message to my friend M’s boyfriend who was on Facebook.  I knew he would see it and tell her to contact me via messenger.  He did quickly and she then told me to come over.  So I got dressed and went over there.  I found his stolen Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses he had left in my car.  My friend A was already there at M's house as well.  I told them what had happened.  At that moment, it was very easy for me.  I was still in shock and hadn't fully formed emotions towards what I had just experienced.  They had almost nothing to say in response.  I later realized that they didn’t really believe me.

After I left M’s house, I went back to the trailer and got my clothes and wallet and phone.  I saw the spot of blood I had left on their mattress in the living room.  It was not very small.  That was the last time I saw my friend S (who lived there).  She was getting ready for work and had no idea about what had happened.  She barely said good morning to me. Once she was told his version of events - which was that we had consensually hooked up but then I was jealous that he started dating his girlfriend (who I guess they started dating the very next day/I literally had no idea about any of this) and so I must have lied and claimed he raped me.

That sentiment was adopted by everyone else in that circle of people.  They completely disowned me as a friend, as an acquaintance.  When I returned to confront him a few days later - I brought the stolen D&G sunglasses he had left in my car.  I had taken hours to carve the words “Fuck you, you motherfucker” across the lenses. Very deep with a sharp knife.

He was standing with his new girlfriend and a few others outside the trailer smoking.  I drove up the hill and left my car running.  Walked over to the group. No one spoke to me.  They all went silent and looked stern.  I walked right up to him and said “These are your sunglasses.” I handed them to him and he said nothing. Everyone stared at me like they had no idea who I even was. Like they had never seen me before. Then I got back in my car, drove away and never spoke to any of those people again.

Part Two to come later....

[surrounded-by-superheroes]

Queen Epilogue

Chapter Twenty-Three here.

Summary;  A shape-shifting girl with a bad past is recruited by Nick Fury into the Avengers. It’s there that she finally starts learning to let people in again and she’s especially intrigued by a blond haired and blue eyed Captain America. Will she learn to let him in? Will her past actually stay in the past?

A/N; I had to add Christmas. Thank you so much for reading! Reblog and comment please!!

Warnings; Language, cuteness.

Words; 3,273

Epilogue

*Christmas Eve Night*

I roll over in Steve’s bed when I hear the door open. Bucky stands just inside the door, looking at me without surprise. I sleep in here more than my own anyways, my room is more of an art studio for me now. He walks over silently and crouches beside the bed.

“…can I..I mean…would it be okay if…” Bucky whispers and struggles to get his words out. I blink a couple of times to wake myself up a little more before addressing him.

“Bucky, you don’t have to ask. Just get in.” I croak as quietly as I can to avoid waking up Steve. Steve and I were on one side of the bed huddled together, leaving the other side open. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, not in the least. In fact, it almost always happened when Natasha was out on a mission. Bucky hadn’t been cleared to work yet, so he had to stay behind. Ever since it had turned cold Bucky had gotten more fidgety than usual. The cold reminded him of his past. He would find either Steve or me and stay with us during the night. More often than not it was with both of us. Neither of us minded at all. Bucky’s a heater. I’d even woken up with my arms wrapped around his metal arm to keep me cool between the two men.

“Are you sure? Would Steve-”

“Buck. Shut the hell up and get in the bed.” Steve tells him firmly. Even in the dark I can see Bucky’s white smile. He climbs in and gets under the covers, letting in a cold breeze that isn’t welcome. Steve’s arms tighten around me when I shiver, but as soon as Bucky settles I’m warm again. We all fall asleep again easily with each other for company.

I wake up in the morning to Steve getting out of bed, jostling Bucky and I in the process. We both groan and I move closer to Bucky, now lacking warmth on one side. We curl together, keeping the warmth between us. Steve chuckles and I hear him moving around the room as he changes.

“You two should get up too. It’s time for our run.” He tells us quietly. Bucky and I both groan at him, making Steve chuckle again. I open my eyes and sigh at the morning. I pat Bucky’s chest and his arms open, like pressing a button for the elevator. I roll out of bed and am greeted with a kiss on the lips from Steve. Despite myself I smile at the trouble maker. I head to the top drawer of Steve’s dresser, my work out clothes were kept in here. I rarely work out without Steve anyway, so it just made sense to keep them here. I change, not worrying about Bucky getting up and seeing me. He’s always the last to get up. Besides, Bucky’s like my brother. I really wouldn’t care if he saw me butt naked, it wouldn’t matter. I finish changing as Steve tugs Bucky out of bed, like always. “Come on, Buck. Sam’s going to be here any minute.” Steve plays on Sam and Bucky’s playful rivalry to get him up.

“Already here.” Sam says, leaning against the door frame. “Late as always, I see. Am I the only gentleman on this team?” He teases. I walk over and punch his shoulder for the comment, but he just laughs. Bucky’s up in a second after hearing Sam, and is ready in less than a minute after changing in the bathroom.

“It’s the only time you’re first at anything, so I’d say cherish our lateness.” Bucky quips, grinning and suddenly wide awake. Sam rolls his eyes and walks out. We all follow him, Steve and I in the back, stretching, and Bucky and Sam in the lead, arguing. When we reach the door that leads outside I groan.

“Does anyone else understand how crazy and I don’t know…CRAZY it is for us to run in New York city, in the winter, when it’s icy and snowy?” I ask, staring out at the winter wonderland in front of us. I love winter, I really do. But I love the warm fires, the snuggling, the sweaters, the hot chocolate, and the occasional snow ball fight. I’m not a fan of freezing my ass off at seven in the morning from running with two assholes. Two assholes who run ahead, and Sam who I willingly stay beside. Sam whispers yes under his breath but Steve and Bucky are grinning, excited for the competition that’s about to start. Sam drops back beside me and lets Steve take his place next to Bucky as the doors open. Instantly, they both take off, both trying to outrun the other. Sam and I both sigh and start jogging leisurely. We follow our normal route through the city and Steve laps us twice with Bucky, before I start feeling the urge to compete rise up in me. It isn’t unusual that they lap us, but this time every time they do they tap Sam and I’s shoulders.

“On your left.”

“On your right.” They both say as they pass us. I huff after the second time and look at Sam.

“Do it for the both of us.” He pushes me forward and I start to sprint. I shift the muscles in my legs so they’re stronger and catch up with Bucky and Steve in a pinch. I put myself between them and shove both of their shoulders, hard. They end up toppling over and landing in piles of snow. I skid to a stop and shift my muscles back to normal as Sam gains on us. I hear him laughing long before he gets there. Dazed, Steve and Bucky sit up and shake the snow out of their hair.

“That’s what you both get for being such jerks.” I huff, placing my hands on my hips. They stare up at me, Bucky pouting and Steve half-smiling. Finally, Sam catches up and wraps his arms around me. He embraces me, picks me up off the ground, and spins me.

“Yes! Finally!” He shouts, then puts me down as I giggle. All of a sudden, Sam staggers backwards when a snowball hits his face. We all laugh quietly before we’re disturbed by the ringing of someone’s cellphone. My nose scrunches up as I pull mine out. Tony had given it to me a while ago so I could always reach him. Of course, he’d already put everyone’s contacts in it and had personalized each ringtone. The one screaming at me right now is Black Sabbath’s Iron Man, telling me it’s Tony calling. I roll my eyes as the guys giggle, but answer the phone.

“Hey, T. What’s up?” I ask, stopping the ringtone in the middle of the song.

“Queen, where the hell are you and the boys? It’s Christmas morning! Everyone’s already in the living room distributing gifts!” Tony shouts at me through the phone. I laugh and point back at the tower to signal to the boys that we need to go back.

“Okay, okay. Calm down. We’re on our way back right now. Don’t open anything until we get there!” I assure him. We both hang up and all of us start to jog. This time, Bucky and Steve stay next to us. As soon as we get back to the tower I shed my coat and boots, but keep my red long-sleeved T and navy sweatpants. We all head up to the normal gathering room and are greeted by noisy hellos and big hugs. Then, we all sit in a large oval, going to wherever our piles of presents are. Steve and I are beside each other, then Bucky, Wanda, Vision, Rhodes, Tony, Sam, ending with Grant next to me to complete the circle. Clint had left a little after Nat to spend his holiday elsewhere. Bucky glances sadly at Nat’s pile of presents under the tree, but smiles again when Steve claps a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay!” Tony starts and we all quiet, turning to listen to him. “Now, we’re going to do this nice and civilized. Grant over there will start, then we’ll go clockwise until everyone is done. As per tradition, everyone has one gift from everyone that they made themselves, basically so I don’t kick everyone’s ass by buying everyone the best gifts.” Tony says cockily then sits down on the couch and nods at Grant to tell him to start.

“Swear jar.” Everyone shouts and Tony rolls his eyes, rolling up a couple spare bills in his pocket and tossing it in the ever-growing money pile in a large jar on the mantle. Grant had started it a while ago. I’ll give it to the kid, he’s smart. He’s made at least a thousand dollars already, mostly thanks to Tony. I smile at Grant’s messy head of hair as he grabs the gift on top of his present mountain. His pile is significantly larger than anyone else’s and that makes me ridiculously happy. Everyone has really taken him under their wing.

“Alright, this is from Uncle T.” He grins and I can’t help but smile when he uses a variation of the nickname I call Tony. He rips open the shiny, red paper to reveal a plain looking box about the size of a loaf of bread. He takes the top off and groans in happiness. “You’re kidding me!” He exclaims and jams his hands down into the box. When his hands emerge from the box they’re covered in black and yellow metal. I immediately look at Tony who’s already looking at me with a sheepish grin on his face.

“How could you?” I mouth at him and he smirks at my reaction. Grant apparently saw me because he rushes to assure me.

“Aw, don’t worry Victory. I’ll be super safe when I’m using them and Uncle T will watch me the whole time. Until he’s sure I’ve got a handle on them.” Grant says, his eyes big and pleading. I stare him before sighing and giving in. “Yes!” Grant exclaims and everyone chuckles at his excitement. My turn now. I grab a small yellow box by my side and put it in my lap.

“Hey, that’s from me!” Sam bellows, leaning forward in his seat. I giggle a little at him and open the box carefully, unfolding the paper instead of ripping it. There’s a little navy box inside. I open it and smile instantly, a laugh bubbling out of my lips the next second. Inside the box is a bracelet cuff, shiny and silver. Where it connects are wings, like an angel, or a falcon. “Now, you can show some proper respect to your brother from another mother.” Sam says happily.  I laugh at him and put the cuff on my upper arm, adjusting it so that the wings are facing outwards.

“Thanks Sam, I love it. I really love it.” I tell him genuinely. He nods in acknowledgement. I look over at Steve to find he’s already dragged a large box in front of him and has untied the large bow on it. I laugh as he rips open the shiny, red paper like a kid. Soon a box is revealed and this one isn’t blank. It’s a record player, the picture on the box is beautiful, cherry wood one. Steve caresses the box before looking up at Tony happily. Tony shrugs.

“I thought you’d like something from your past. Other than your friend anyway.” Tony teases Bucky who narrows his eyes at the use of old. Steve chuckles.

“Thanks Tony. I appreciate it.” Steve tells him, but Tony just waves a hand at him.

“You’ll find some records in that pile there soon enough too.” He tells him and Steve just can’t seem to stop smiling. Bucky’s turn. Immediately, he picks up a box wrapped in newspaper. I have a hunch this gift is from Steve. My hunch is confirmed when Steve looks away from his new toy to watch Bucky open it with a nervous smile. It’s a shoe box, but seeing Bucky’s face when he opens it makes me think that there aren’t shoes inside.

“Uh, they’re letters.” Steve starts to explain. “I wrote them from the day you…fell…up to when you came back. I lost the letters from the forty’s, but I copied them from memory. I’d write one whenever I wanted to tell you something or just needed to talk.” Steve ends, a slight pink tint appearing on his cheeks. Suddenly, Bucky puts down the box and wraps an arm around Steve. They hug for a moment and when they both pull away they smile like fools.

“Just kiss.” Tony says under his breath and everyone laughs quietly. Steve rolls his eyes and leans over, giving me a quick kiss instead. Bucky gets up and kisses me on the cheek too, making everyone laugh again. “Alright, alright, moving on.” Tony groans. Wanda uses her powers to pick a present in the middle of her pile.

“From Vis.” She reads and smiles softly. Vision sits up a little straighter in his seat and swallows. I’ve never seen him look so nervous. She opens the tiny box and pulls out a SD card. She picks it up and looks at Vision expectantly.

“It has all the pictures of you and your family I could find, as well as music that’s native to your home country. I thought you’d like a bit of your home to hold onto.” Vision explains, his nervousness fading when he sees Wanda’s big smile. She puts the SD card into her pocket and nods at Vision.

“Thanks, Vis.” She tells him. He smiles and it’s surprisingly charming. It’s his turn next. Sadly, his pile is the smallest because no one had any ideas as to what to get him. Gingerly he takes one off the top; a long, thin box covered in gold paper and wrapped with a thin, sheer red ribbon. It’s mine. I twist a piece of my hair between my fingers as he opens it, nervous he won’t like it. Steve places his hand on my knee and squeezes lightly to reassure me. Vision opens it very carefully and smiles when he unrolls the paper in his hands. He looks up at me and I’m shocked to find that his eyes are touched.

“It’s, uh, it’s a painting of you and the team made from computer code. If I did it right, it should repeat-”

“Family.” He finishes and runs a thumb tenderly across the bottom of the page. “Thank you, Victoria. It’s breathtaking.” He compliments and I let out a sigh of relief then smile brightly at him. Rhodey is next and he looks straight at Tony as he picks up the gift from Tony.

“Oh, so this is how it’s going to be?” Tony asks playfully as Rhodes smirks.

“Yeah, this is how it’s going to be.” He continues opening the present and pulls out a small strip of paper from a tiny box. Rhodes reads it, then laughs and sends Tony a knowing look. “Is this the number-”

“Of that brunette you ran into last week? Yeah, you’re welcome.” Tony responds and starts opening his gift, Rhodes staring and smiling at the strip of paper in his hands. The gift Tony’s opening is from Grant, I’d helped him wrap all his gifts to the team. The minute Tony can see what’s in the box he laughs and it does my heart good to see Grant’s bleach white smile. “Is this what I think it is?” Tony asks, running a hand lovingly down whatever’s in the box. All I can tell is that it’s circular by the way Tony’s arm is moving. Grant nods and Bucky groans.

“Can we tell the not geniuses what’s in the box?” He says and I nod in agreement. Tony takes a circular mechanical thing out of the box, then sticks his hand under his shirt. We all hear a slight click and Tony’s reactor suddenly starts emitting a green light, then pink, red, purple, yellow, then disco. Grant’s grinning like crazy and so is Tony. God, they really found each other. Tony waves Grant over and tugs him into his arms, giving him a tight hug before launching him back into his spot next to me.

“Damn, we’ve all been out gifted.” Sam whispers under his breath.

“Swear jar.” Everyone says in unison and Sam rolls his eyes. He contributes, then realizes it’s his turn.

“Well, I think I’ll open this one.” He says dramatically and picks up the gift from Bucky.

“Oh, geez here we go.” Bucky breathes and I cover my mouth to mask my giggle. Sam rips open the brown packaging with vigor and a bright grin on his face and throws the top at Steve, who catches it of course. As soon as Sam’s eyes land on what’s in the box Bucky bursts out laughing as Sam glares at him. Everyone stares at Bucky, no one but Steve and I have really seen him express emotion like this. Sam fights his smile, but it wins out. He pulls out a black steering wheel and shakes his head.

“This is the same damn model too. Barnes, you’re a little bastard.” Sam partially scolds and rolls up a few dollar bills to put in the swear jar before we can yell at him to do it.

“You’re welcome.” Bucky responds and takes the top from Steve to throw it back at Sam. He catches it and puts the top back on in one swift move. I shake my head at the three of them. Troublemakers.

“Go ahead mini me! Your turn!” Tony exclaims at Grant, making Grant’s teeth flash in the light as he grins cheekily. We keep going around the circle until everyone has opened all their presents. At the end I push our present piles aside and put my head down in Steve’s lap, then shut my eyes. Steve instantly lifts my head up and lays my hair out so I don’t pull it. He plays with it absentmindedly as he talks with Bucky about Natasha. I hear Vision and Wanda whispering quietly to each other while Tony and Rhodes talk about the brunette Rhodey met. Grant’s explaining how he made Tony’s gift and Sam is asking if he can make something similar to put on his wings. I grin and sigh.

“Hey, babe?” I say quietly, but instantly gain Steve’s attention.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He answers and I open my eyes to see his pretty blue ones.

“Let’s make every Christmas like this, okay? Family around, crazy gifts, minimum amount of fighting. Okay? Every Christmas.” I tell him and his sweet smile just grows as I go on. He nods and leans down to give me a sweet kiss.

“Alright, Ria. Every year it’ll be like this.” He promises and I grab his hand in mine happily. “Maybe we’ll even have more additions in the years to come.” He proposes and my eyes widen, but so does my smile. I nod, then hear a small explosion to my right. I sigh and pop up to find Grant with a blackened face, wearing the gauntlet Tony gave him. Steve stands too and wraps his arms around me. “Every year.” He repeats and gets a hearty laugh out of me. I shake my head as he releases me to deal with the slight mess. Every year, I chuckle to myself.

#queen #queen epilogue #written #writing #read #to read #write #steve #rogers #steve rogers #cap #captain #captain america #marvel #romance #marvel romance #steve rogers romance #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #victoria #sweet #love #x reader

[sereida-arts]

All nighter

“So you’ve decided to pull an all nighter” asked her friend Gina, making no attempt to hide her smile from her face. She could almost see the images that came to her friend’s head. Her, laying asleep at her desk on top of a half read book, after not making it past 11. Waking up disoriented and Gina rushing her to the test, while trying to read the last bits of information that would make no difference to her already failing grade.

But Gina made no comment about it, she just shook her head, still a smile on her face, “Do you want me to lend you my coffeemaker?” she asked. The girl just stared at her friend for a bit before replying, “You know coffee makes zero effect on me, I’m just gonna make it trough the night on candy and snacks”

“Why are you even doing this?”

“I need a 99 to pass the class”

Gina’s alarm rang, she quickly took a piece of paper from her backpack wrote a few things down on it and gave it to her.

“You are going to forget, so I wrote it down, here are some tips that’ll help you stay awake as much as possible” She couldn’t help to smile at her friends’s tone, “Thanks Gina!” she yelled, as her friend went on to her next class, so did she and as she did, she slipped the piece on paper onto her jacket’s pocket.

9:00 pm

She finally arrived to her dorm room. She showered, had dinner and relaxed for a while. Then she opened her backpack, silenced her phone, and ordered everything on her desk. Then remembered she had forgotten the snacks. So she went to get them, a few from the small kitchen, a few she stole from her roommate, who was staying with her parents for the week, and lacking any other option, a few she bought from the cafeteria before it closed for the night.

9:14

She had already passed the exact hour, so she decided to take a quick nap before starting to study. Which turned into 41 minutes of internet surfing(obviously searching for tips for pulling successful all nighters and no funny bird videos at all).

9:55

She remembered the list her friend gave her, and after hurriedly searching trough the clothes strewn on the floor she found the folded paper. Classic, her few tips were a list of perfectly written lines of…pure…

She started reading carefully the list.

10:01

She had her book open and was reading, her phone was next to her. She tried focusing on reading but couldn’t help but look at her phone every few seconds.

Tip # 1: Keep your phone silent or turn it off, don’t answer any calls no matter who it is. You can only call the person who gave you this list.

Gina wasn’t one to play pranks, and she wasn’t paranoid. But she kept looking at her phone over and over again. She stood up and made sure the door to her room was locked, just in case.

10:15

She decided to take a break and read the list again, and again. Then decided to forget about the whole thing, she was there to study, and she was going to do that. So of course she wouldn’t answer any calls or open her door. None of the things written down had any interference with the plans for her night, so none of it really mattered.

She reassured herself of that decision and started studying for real.

10:15

….

10:16

…

10:17

10:18

10:19

10:15

10:66

10:55

10:21234312

Tip # 2: Clocks will start moving at odd paces, that’s when you’ll now you’re in, once the clock returns to normal you’ll know it has ended for good

She stared at the clock at the side of her desk. It kept leaping back and forth, going on and returning, upwards downwards. But never below 10:15, she checked the door was locked once more. She grabbed her phone to call her friend. She stopped, sat back again. Grabbed the list once more. Read it again.

10:#”

Her attention divided once more, skipping from between the list and then to her book. She took a look at her bed, but she had to study. She opened her book again.

Tip # 3: If at any point you want to stop just go to bed. You’ll fall asleep instantly and time will resume as normal. There will be no consequence to this action.

1:23-23-12-23

She jumped on her seat when a branch hit the window, she hadn’t reached half the amount of chapters she wanted to finish studying and half of her snack supply was gone already. She had always been a stress eater. Still it was a miracle she had been able to stay awake that long for what matter. She didn’t read the list, she just closed the curtain and started reading again.

Tip # 6: No external event will interfere with your night, so don’t worry about the normal distractions.

3:38

3:36

3:35

Now she was making progress, the list had been left unread for a while now, although how much time she didn’t know. She had also started to notice things once she had been able to focus. When she started reading, at the corner of her eyes she could faintly see a few floating lights, she thought they might be tone magenta. Gina would probably know the exact tone they were.

She also found tiny notes written at the edge of the book, keywords, notes, a few underlined sentences of the most important paragraphs. She kept on reading

4:12-1:13 10:12

She noticed for a while now that she hadn’t run out of snacks even tough she had been eating for the past..well for the last few chapters. She was giving herself a tiny break for reaching two thirds of her reading material when she heard a knock on the door. She sat there frozen for a second before grabbing her list and reading that part again.

Tip # 4: Don’t open your door or go outside, cause then another event will take place and then the tips written here will no longer apply

She kept completely quiet and still, she didn’t hear any further knocking. She stood up, with her phone in hand and pressed the call button.

“Hello?”

“Gina?”

A short pause and then she heard her best friends voice again “Heeeeeeeeyyyyy how are you doing?”

She didn’t know where to start from, a thousand questions and a few very strong words got stuck on her throat, instead she just said “I heard a knock on the door”

“Sorry to hear that, are you okay? I shouldn’t- I knew you were failing the class and how much you needed to pass this test, I- How are you?”

Hearing her friends voice calmed her down, she sat back again. She spoke quietly, “ I didn’t open it, that was the right thing to do, right?”

“Yeah it was, listen if you wan’t to stop this you know you can always-”

“I know, I- I think I’m okay”

“You know I can’t go there”

“No, I know… I wanted to ask who gave you your list?”

“I can’t say that”

“No I understand, thanks Gina”

“It’s…forget about it, you try your best to study, okay?”

“Yeah I’ll do that, bye”

She hung up the phone. She read the list again, and laughed a bit when she read tip number 7 again.

Tip # 7: If any distraction attempts to bother you please ignore it, we’ll deal with it as soon as possible.

4:1=

She felt as if someone was trying to make it up to her, the snacks that kept appearing improved in quality. She heard no further noises, and the book she was reading had been perfectly underlined with the most important information written down in a paper that she found in between the pages.

She had also discovered that every time she opened her curtain, she could see different creatures walking trough the snowy streets. She couldn’t identify what half of them where, but they all walked along the snow with lanterns and torches and, in the case of a very peculiar puppy, a string of christmas lights entangled in it’s body.

She kept reading and every few pages, she took a small break to open the curtain to take a look.

A couple walked holding hands…

A gigantic creature whose legs were the only thing she could see, walking carefully trough the street, avoiding all the lamps and trees with impressive talent…

What looked like a small child wearing an odd mask ran trough the snow with a few figures walking calmly a few steps behind them, the child looked towards the window and waved at her, she waved back.

3:$$”=$”==========================================================:…+

11:44

She was almost done, only one chapter left and she barely felt tired. She stretched, and as she moved forward to open the curtain again, she noticed her list now had only two sentences written.

Grab your book and the list and get out of the room. Now.

She stood up to do as she was told, yet she hesitated for a moment, reaching out her hand to open the curtain but at the last second deciding against it. She unlocked the door, wondering if the lock had always been that jammed and hard to open. She managed to open her door and walked out to the hallway.

It looked like the hallway at her dorm, but it looked cleaner, the shades of the color of the wall a bit lighter. Also they were more doors, and she saw people walk out of them. Some at the same time as she, others a few seconds later. All looking as puzzled as her, some holding books, notes, equipment, some dressed in work clothes, formal clothes, pajamas. The one thing in common was that they were all holding a list of some sorts, some in paper, some in boards, a guy exiting two doors down from where she was, holding a laptop up high with a list typed on the screen. Before anyone could process what was going on. A Sign on the ceiling appeared visible to all that were standing there.

Sorry fo the inconvenience. Please close the door you went trough if you haven’t already, and walk trough the hallway until you see an open door that has your room or location on the inside. Sorry again for the troubles, have a good night.

Everyone looked at each other and started slowly walking, after a while some started running as well. Low murmurs filled the hallway but no one spoke out loud. People clutched to their belongings. Some people kept quiet, while others tried to make small talk. After walking for a while she saw a few open doors here and there, and people went trough them. But still the majority kept walking.

A few steps ahead from her she saw a middle aged man walking while holding hands with his two small daughters. She heard him talking to them, reassuring them that everything was alright with a calm expression in his face. She turned behind her and saw a couple walking close to each other, the woman clearly several months pregnant. She started looking around more, a group of friends walking at the same pace with their arms intertwined with each other, a smile on each of their faces. A running blur rushed past her, and it wasn’t until the figure stopped in front of his door that she noticed that it was a small child, who gave everyone a thumbs up before walking trough his door and closing it behind him.

She couldn’t help but feel a bit calmer, she looked and heard more and more, so that she almost missed her own door. Opening to her dorm room. She had been looking impressed at the determination of a teenager that was trying as best as he could to memorize a phone number another teen had given him. She stopped abruptly an almost crashed against an old lady who was walking in front of her. She apologized, but the lady just smiled and spoke in a language she didn’t understood, still the lady just nodded and continued on her way.

She entered her room.

10:15

4:55

11:88

The clock moved at a irregular pace still, but she felt a bit safer now. She sat down at her desk and placed her book and list down. The list had returned back to normal. She couldn’t help but read it again and again just to be sure, and then stare at tip #8

Tip # 8:  In the unlikely event any written instruction appears trough any written format, do obey them at once. It’s for your own safety and well being.

She took a deep breath and had just opened her book when she noticed. Her cranky chair whose wheels worked no longer and that was at the edge of breaking down, was suddenly an executive chair that made no noise when you sat on it, and felt like sitting on a cloud. She stood up and sat on it again just to be sure. She looked around to make sure this was her room, it was, only it was slightly better.

She opened her curtain and stared at the snowy empty street. It wasn’t much time until she saw a cream colored rabbit hop from one place to another. She closed the curtain and continued studying.

5:203

…

5:45

…

%:36

6:16

6:17

6:18

Now she felt tired, she had just closed the book and now her eyes had started to close. She stood up to open the curtain once more, and saw a group of creatures walking trough the snow, then one figure walk away slowly from the group, reach to the snow covered ground, and proceed to throw a snowball in the direction of their friends. She smiled and yawned, she looked at the list once more, and then headed to her bed.

6:19

She took one last look at the room as she sat on the bed, she looked at the chair one last time. She knew it wouldn’t be there in the morning, but it had been great.

6:20

She let herself fall to her bed and fell asleep before being able to form another thought.

8:20

She yawned as she left the room she had taken her test in. She walked trough the hallway, and barely able to realize Gina had reached her side.

“Soooo…..”

“I have a new chair, it’s pretty neat”

“Oh god what happened?”

“I’ll tell you when it all makes sense”

“Good luck with that” Gina kept quiet for a second before adding “So.. it helped?”

“Yeah, just give me a heads up next time wouldn’t you?”

“Couldn’t do that, sorry..”

“Got any tips for taking 5 minute naps between classes”

“Nope”

They both laughed, and walked to their next class.

6:40 (The next day)

An alarm woke her up, and she sleepily walked towards her chair, the softness of which only wanted to make her sleep even more. But the exam results would be up soon, and she needed to know.

A perfect 100 and extra points for the next test.

She started laughing as she took the list from the drawer and read it once again.

Tip # 5: Try your best to accomplish the goal for staying up.  If you do so you will accomplish it.

She slumped agains her chair, relaxing at last. She folded the list, saved it on her drawer and went to bed. Time to sleep, no all nighters tonight.

The list

Tip # 1: Keep your phone silent or turn it off, don’t answer any calls no matter who it is. You can only call the person who gave you this list.

Tip # 2: Clocks will start moving at odd paces, that’s when you’ll now you’re in, once the clock returns to normal you’ll know it has ended for good.

Tip # 3: If at any point you want to stop just go to bed. You’ll fall asleep instantly and time will resume as normal. There will be no consequence to this action.

Tip # 4: Don’t open your door or go outside, cause then another event will take place and then the tips written here will no longer apply

Tip # 5: Try your best to accomplish the goal for staying up.  If you do so you will accomplish it.

Tip # 6: No external event will interfere with your night, so don’t worry about normal distractions.

Tip # 7: If any distraction attempts to bother you please ignore it, we’ll deal with it as soon as possible.

Tip # 8:  In the unlikely event any written instruction appears trough any written format, do obey it at once. It’s for your own safety and well being.

Tip # 9:  Attempting to disrupt the event with ill intention, or attempting to activate a second event at the same time is rude and shall be met with a penalization.

Tip #10: Once finished you can invite another person to experience the event by writing the tips and giving them to the intended person.

Have a good Night, and best of luck,

-The Host “                      ”

-Gina

#writings #short story #night #all nighter #story

[yintianhe1128-blog]

The Suicider

She reached for me in the morning not long after Christmas. We chatted by the furnace in my house for no more than five minutes, then she said,

“Your life must be really boring.”

I’d never expected a girl who would speak just like her. But there was something deeply buried yet extrovert on her. She would omit her life after a peak of tranquility was reached inside. That was why she came for me, and why most people came for me.

Things went on like this: my previous client closed his case peacefully at night, duplicating the detailed protocol I gave him. Before he penetrated the overflowing snow of winter Eastern Europe and hit his head heavily and fatally onto the pink bricks of the Grand Budapest, he did remember a last text message left for me to deliver his gratefulness. That was, by chance or fate, my nineteen-eighth case, or the nineteen-eighth poor soul I ferried to heaven or hell, or neither. Then for a long time with no task at hand, I rented a cottage somewhere in Finland, a place I’d been longing to, and let the snow block the outside at ease.

I did not know how my address slipped in her hands. She came to me during one of the greatest snow I had met since my settling down in Finland. She kept vague about where she heard about me and how she made her way through the ocean and heavy snow. She never told me where she came from, even in the long days with her later in my life.

Anyway, when I opened the door that day, I saw a young woman in brown winter coat, with all her face concealed carefully by red scarf and hat. I noticed her gaits were twisted when she entered the house, probably from days of searching and walking. I always took pride in my methods of hiding from people.

I made us coffee, and she started talking after resting for a while on my couch.

“I hear you are the suicider.”

“Sure I am.”

“What specifically do you do then?”

“Usually people come to me with their wishes regarding how they want to die, and I do some little experiments and design the final scheme for them.”

She was amused. “How d’you experiment them? You got people working for you?”

“Nah, I’m completely on my own.”

“Don’t you have friends.”

“No I don’t. I used to enjoy socializing. But it’s always unbearable to see them leaving,” I sensed the confusion on her face, “dying.” I added.

“All of them?”

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve lived.”

“How long?”

“You tell me, I celebrated my forty-fourth birthday with Albert Camus.”

I expected the expression of amazement on her face, but failed. All I heard was a soft chuckle. She was indeed different.

“I can’t die. Never. Nothing can’t kill me. You bet. Aging, injury, diseases… nothing.”

I looked at her pale face, just got a little red from the burning fire. Her facial expression was hard to read. There was a short pause, then,

“Your life must be really boring.” She said.

I tried to relax the muscle on my face otherwise she would see how I actually reacted to her hypothesis whether she popped up randomly or she did feel it. I had never met someone without being envied before. She was different, this I could tell. Intuition told me as soon as she stepped inside, but only till then I was forced to believe. She looked outside the window, trying to moderate the awkwardness.

“Whatever,” I took a sip of my coffee, “What brings you here.”

“You know it.”

I was choked by words. It had been a pattern for me to ask why, regardless it was such a we-both-know-why question.

“Sorry. How do you like it to be done?”

“Do you just stay in this room all day?” She pointed outside of the window. “Why don’t we go out? It’s such a scenery outside whilst we waste it. Seriously, you can get this kind of hut everywhere in the world, but leave alone this Finnish snow.”

I was quite annoyed. But I agreed. After all, she must have came a long way to this god damned place. And perhaps, this would be her second-to-last lifetime wish.

I led her to the only bar I knew in the town adjacent to my cottage. Drunk snow pierced and separated by the penetrating wind was left alone covering the street, spitting out cold air after the hangover the last long night, blurring our vision. We walked in the snow like two strangers, partly because the unsociability, and partly the hush knife-ish wind. When we took our first sip of the Alko beer beside the soft jazz band jamming southern dixie, the whole morning was left to our silent snowy road trip.

She soon finished her first bottle, whereas I was merely halfway done. Finally, she turned around to the guitarist, who was lazily strumming the chords against the window pane. The rest of the band were all sitting down, including the singer. There were seldom people in the pub, and the landlord was smoking by the small passage connecting the warehouse and the front desk.

The band finished an obsolete Christmas chorus. After a short pause, the guitarist performed another strengthless riff.

“I wish I’d know that guitarist.” She said, more or less to herself.

“Well I would take that job, if you really want,” I said, “that’s Matti. The drummer is Markku, he lives near the bottomless lake. And the bassist is Maki, Markku’s brother. He is temporarily living with his brother in his house.”

“I thought you’d enjoy solitary.”

“Solitary is bullshit.” I said. “You got to know people, which is crucial. But the trick is, never to get too close to ‘em.”

She left out the typical chuckle again. “Thanks for that useful advice.”

We stayed in the bar until the alcohol bursted through my body like a grand fountain and left my conscious fractured and twisted. She kept talking, but the foam of beer washed away everything stored in my brain about that special afternoon. I stayed unaware of those “accidents” I experienced until the next morning. I felt strange for the familiar noise of my antique alarm clock was replaced by the chanting of birds. There you go, Frère Jacques, sonnez les martine!

With an odd feeling I opened my eyes. The sense of rush after being waken up by alarm had died down completely. The feeling of rebirth and neophobia was merged on this particular peculiar morning.

I was naked, on a bed. I turned to my left and saw the curtained window rippling the milky morning sunshine. Everything had changed. My foot kicked over a glass of wine as I tried to get off the bed. Red liquid started marching towards all directions on the red carpet. I felt the harsh wetness. I tried to stand up, but the gravity of hangover dragged me down. As I fell off onto the ground, a thud had probably woken up whoever was besides me last night. I heard a familiar voice calling me, and at least, threw me part of the jigsaw puzzles of what on earth had happened.

I still did not know her name by then, she did not know mine either.

I turned around in surprise. She had turned around to me, also naked. The thin sheet was flowing up and down like snowflake, fading around her chest into flawless flesh hue. her breasts visible as two tiny dots that reminds me of the sky at night. A light yellow universe unfolded in front of my eyes, with only two stars shining their eternal glory….

I now tend to keep my memory short about that day, about every day after she bumped into my life, whether deliberately or not, for the sake of the end of this story. But simply, I cannot.

More ironically, I’m telling the story myself.

And now it’s time to get back to whatever this damned story would go on.

I left her house that day, left her all alone in her bed, naked and weeping. I sweared I’d never see her again in the rest of my life, which was meant to be eternal. The light was more slashing than before, for the dancing snowflakes had gone tired and was resting on the ground, even chilly wind cannot force them to be back to stage again.

I finally got to see the house I had slept for the one night. A dying four-floor apartment building, the kind that offered moneyless people several hundred Euros per month. Black-white doodle stood lonely on the wall that I would bet on falling apart less than two years.

There was not even a ghost on the road. Such place stained my nerves lightly but at least I knew the direction back to town. I walked for one or two hours before I got home again.

I used to hate hangover. I thanked it that time for it had utterly wiped out my memory like an eraser, despite the nausee feeling that lasted all day long. I told myself everything is over now. I would move away somewhere new, and start life again; I would never be a suicider and would not see anyone. I have always been correct: solitary is bullshit. When life throws tons of excrement on you, the wise way is to shut yourself tight with what you only have in hand.

That afternoon, while I was packing, my telephone rang. I knew who that was: if she could find me, then she could get my number easily. I cut off the telephone line and throw the speaker into the furnace.

Not long afterwards, there was a knock on the door.

“I know you are inside, right there by the door,” she cried, “you got to open the door!”

I remained silent.

“Please!”

I chose to ignore.

The third time she cried, I could bear no more.

“Go to hell!” I shouted back. “You heard me, leave me alone!”

“I can’t!” the voice was dying down, probably for lack of energy and her infinite sorrow.

“Go suicide! Go to hell! If that’s what you came for!”

��I can’t….” Her voice could no longer stab through the wooden door. Vaguely I heard her sobbing.

“You can’t help me this time either,” she had more or less recovered a bit, but was still not that violent. “I’m the same as you.”

Like being hit by a thunderbolt, the word “same” meant so much to me.

“Please… please let me die if you would, if you can…. I can’t bear it anymore….”

Again, I made us coffee. She rested on the couch for a while. I sit in front of her. Sometimes I thought she had fallen asleep for she had stayed there like a statue for hours. But her opening eyes reminded me otherwise.

The first sound that broke the awkwardness was her cry. She suddenly bursted into tears with her eyes still wide open and blindly stared at her front.

I still could not calm down from last night. Watching her squeezed herself like a tiny pussy for warmth, a sense of shame submerged. I owned my part for last night, though I still did not know what on earth happened.

She suddenly turned her head to me. Our eyesight crushed together.

And we made love. I did not know how many times, nor did I asked her any question regarding her career as a suicider, or she had ever been one. We made love on the hard floor by the furnace. Flame cooked our sweat as I kissed her again and again and again. I remember I stood up during an interval to turn on my gramophone and played The Velvet Underground & Nico. And we continued under Tucker’s melodies.

We fell asleep on the floor. Her hands in mine, her head on my chest, our legs twisted together.

Next morning, I woke up finding her staring at me. “I wanna die, what about you?”

“Me too.” I replied softly, my lips touching her ear.

Death could be the most powerful amplifier in the world ever, for it prolongs everything in this world till forever. I have always been thinking: a perfect life would end at the point where you are with the one you love. But what a pity, mine’s cannot. Is it a crucifixion for my pre-life sin? I don’t know. Death is a release, my mom told me when attending dad’s funeral. I was scared, and was crying day and night. I asked my mom, what did dad do that he must leave?

“It’s not a punishment,” my mom told me, “death is a release. All of us would thank the God for giving us rights to die, which is the only path towards salvation.”

Am I a child abandoned by god, or merely unlucky?

I decide to trust bullshit.

She moved and lived with me, and said would be with me till eternity. Winter of my life had passed. She was April, who brought sun and rain and green. We’d traveled around, to many places that I never dared before, for the sake of unexpected acquaintance. People brought me trouble, so I stayed away from them. She was the whole human civilization for me. Who’d write an ode to mankind when there is a lover there for you? Who’d see people if they are in love? Who’d still care about the so-called “punishment from the God” if the force of love is fully capable for a redemption, even to redeem a person saturated in the blood of his victims down in the dim wet basement of hell?

My hand was like antenna, and she felt me as well.  A telepath freeway was built between us, a highway of love, as I called it.

She kept the exit of the hallway close to her heart, for me to get. Now I am writing all those fractured sentences merely served as a mean to rebuild the highway, into an unknown direction, into the fog, into the rain, into eternity. I kept thinking of her, and kept driving on the highway in time. Sometimes the track got dusty and rough, but I shall pass them. I always thought I would reach her someday eventually. But later I realized as my life was never to be ended, the highway would remain endless.

I drive along the highway, collecting tears by the way. I thought I would get at least a little more adjacent, but only to understand soon that I am getting away from her in time. It has been a while since her departure.

She left me on a cold sunny morning, the day of the first snow in the year. She closed her eyes in the feeble glow of my watch.

She had been lying to me ever since our acquaintance. I sure admired her, and in a rather twisted way, I envied her. She could be ready to end her life, whereas I could not.

I looked out of the window, into the snowy town. I am now back in the cottage in Finland where I spent the winter of my life. Now winter has arrived again, and I longed for a shelter.

Not long after her death, I got a text message. It was her. The text was short, consisted of two sentences.

“Now I die loving you, so I can love you forever.”

And then she added,

“You are indeed the best suicider in this god damned world ever.”

The End

Jan 6, 2017

#story