#''oh my god she's pale like a zombie. you know they eat the hot people first. let me back my tasty ass up.'' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

secretobsessionstuff · 4 years

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Ok so Dakota and Blair go to the movie theater and Dakota gets two hotdogs, and the hotdogs are actually perfectly fine but he just so happens to have the stomach flu and that’s the first and last thing he ate before getting violently sick all over the seats in front of them (you can decide if there’s people in them or not)

Thanks Milo for the prompt...after I low-key begged you for a request ;)

As soon as Dakota finished work, he drove straight to Blair’s office to pick her up. It was movie night and the early viewing was the only time that worked with both their schedules while also not being in 3D. Dakota didn’t mind that it was just after five, even if it wasn’t prime movie time, because he had to be up early the next day anyway. He was however not thrilled about having popcorn for dinner.

It had been one of those days when Dakota didn’t get any break between clients or emails or questions to actually eat the lunch that he packed for himself. Oddly enough, he couldn’t decide if he was hungry. Normally, going eight hours without food would leave Dakota ravenous, but tonight he found the hunger manageable. Perhaps only one bag of popcorn would be enough instead of three. That was a joke of course, but Blair didn’t laugh. She simply looked sideways at her boyfriend.

Once at the theater, Dakota changed his mind. Given that it was dinner time, he decided that movie theater hotdogs would be more appropriate than popcorn. So, with both sausages in hand, he and Blair, carefully balancing their food, found a spot near the back of the theater.

“You know one good thing about the hour,” Blair began, settling into a chair, “is that we get to pick whichever seat we want.”

Dakota smiled and set the hotdogs on his lap. “I’m glad we got to do this. I know I’ve been crazy busy this week.”

“Yeah, I’m worried you’re gonna burn yourself out with all your new clients,” Blair said, looking at the screen rather than Dakota. She was focused on a preview for an upcoming horror film.

“I’m exhausted, but it’s been good,” he replied before taking a huge bite of the hotdog. Sadly, it looked like he would finish it in three bites. A bit of onions and mustard marked the side of his mouth which he quickly wiped away before it could fall on his shirt.

“Good, then it’s been worth it waking up to an empty bed for the past few days.”

With a lump of food in his cheek, Dakota looked sideways at Blair with sad eyes. “’m shrory.”

Thankfully Blair was fluent in the language of stuffed-mouth. “Don’t apologize. I just hate how you come home looking like a zombie. I’m afraid you’re gonna fall asleep halfway through this film.”

Dakota shook his head energetically because that’s all he could do with half a hotdog in his mouth. By the time the movie actually started, he was already devouring the second one. It wasn’t the greatest, but Dakota didn’t have high expectations for a movie theater. Honestly, he just needed something to say he had eaten today.

Their conversation ended once the lights went down. The theater was fairly full by this point, but luckily Dakota didn’t have anyone’s head blocking his view. The movie was quiet in the beginning, making Dakota self-conscious about burping. But he couldn’t help it. He had inhaled those two hotdogs and now his stomach was trying to digest them. It left a strong aftertaste in his mouth that was less than pleasant but a few sips from his coke helped that. Unfortunately, the fizzy drink only filled his stomach with more air.

After a particularly deep belch, Dakota exhaled while slowly deflating his cheeks. It wasn’t a relieving burp and instead felt like it stirred everything up in his belly. Dakota was quickly getting hot, both from the proximity of other people and the churning sensation in his gut. It was uncomfortable and distracting from the movie. He stretched his legs out as far as he could and rested his hands over his bloated stomach.

Blair leaned over and grabbed his knee. “You okay?”

He squinted and assessed his state. He didn’t feel entirely okay, especially from the way his belly was gurgling. It seemed to be having a hard time with the greasy food. “My stomach hurts. I think I ate too fast.”

Blair reached down and grabbed a water bottle from her bag. After she handed it off to Dakota, she put her palm flat against his stomach and felt the organ ripple. “Oh babe, are you sure you’re okay?” She leaned forward to get a better look at his face.

“Yeah, it’ll pass,” he whispered and moved her hand off his body. He was too hot and sticky to want anyone to touch him in this moment. He really just wanted to step outside in the cool air, but there were too many people in his aisle, and he didn’t want to be a bother.

So, Dakota tried to relax while his stomach continued to make angry sounds. He suffered through half the movie until the nausea finally hit. Suddenly the aftertaste from his meal had return in full force and it was as if his mouth were filled with thick grease. He could feel sweat dripping down his back. He shivered, feeling like his insides were trying to crawl their way out.

At the peak of his nausea, the burping started again, this time feeling much more threatening. The first few belches were short and empty, but they quickly became wet. Whenever Dakota felt the air bubbling up, he shoved his fist against his lips to keep from burping, in fear that it would bring up more than just gas. Completely abandoning the movie, Dakota leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and hugged his middle.

It wasn’t long before he felt Blair touch his back. “Kota,” she whispered, “is it that bad?” And her fingers met the damp fabric that ran along Dakota’s spine. Dragging her hand up his shirt, Blair eventually touched his neck gently and found it burning. “Kota, I think –”

Dakota hissed through his teeth before gagging into his hand. “Fuck I’m gonna –” he gagged again and dipped his head even further between his legs. His stomach was in turmoil, but he couldn’t move.

Ignoring the not so subtle stares from the people next to them, Blair helped Dakota into an upright position. By the light of the big screen, she could see that his face was drenched and pale. She was almost able to get him out of the chair, but Dakota suddenly pitched forward and a massive wave of vomit covered the seat in front of him.

“Fuck –” he repeated only to have it cut off by another gush of thick sick. He held onto the, thankfully empty chair in front of him, and belched up the only thing his stomach had to give. The mustard burned his throat.

In between retches, Blair grabbed Dakota by his arms and pushed him past the people in the aisle. She muttered apologies all the while Dakota heaved into his hands. She immediately led him to the nearest bathroom, not caring that it was the men’s washroom, and followed him into the stall.

Dakota fell to his knees. “Oh God, Bl–” the rest of her name came out sounding like Dakota was heaving up his intestines.

“Shh, shh, don’t try to talk. Just get it all up,” she cooed while firmly rubbing his back. She winced from the sounds and the way his back shuttered with each heave.

He burped up a few more strands of sick until he was left dry heaving over the toilet. Breathing heavily, Dakota fell back against the wall and closed his eyes. “That was terrible.”

Blair flushed the toilet and grabbed a wad of toilet paper to wipe off Dakota’s face. He kept his eyes closed and breathed through his mouth. She traced around his nose to get the sweat and dabbed away the saliva on his chin. “Looked pretty terrible.” As she wiped his glistening forehead, she let her fingers trail over the skin to confirm what she already knew. “Did you know you have a fever?”

Dakota opened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow. “What? I thought it was the hotdogs…”

“No, you’re burning up,” Blair insisted. “I think you caught a stomach bug.”

Dakota groaned and knocked his head back. “Great.”

“Wasn’t your stomach upset before now?”

“Not really. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

Blair nodded knowingly. “That explains it.”

“You know what this means right?”

She tilted her head to the side. “What? That there’s no way I’m gonna dodge this flu?”

“Probably…and,” Dakota said, looking absolutely heartbroken and terrified, “I have to let you drive my car.”

#emeto #emetophilia #sickfic #my ocs #stomach flu #stomach bug #Dakota #Blair #vomiting #puke #fever #request #puke without plot

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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lucatorahaven · 4 years

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vampire au post

4 skype convos haphazardly mixed in from very different times

[29/11/2014 4:27:51 AM] Probably Not Assorted Cheeses: Vampire au

Lucas the incompetent vampire who eats mostly animals

Duster was the one who bit him, only bc duster was literally starving n lucas came at a bad time

idk if duster should be born a vampire or not but Wes is one too and together they taught lucas how to survive.

however eventually they had to leave, they offered for lucas to join them but lucas can’t leave his family behind, the kid’s too sentimental :’(

so together they staged his death (which im too lazy to try n think of)

claus knew bout the vampire thing tho, lucas couldn’t live alone like that. He also ended up biting Boney in an accident so hey vampire dog.

claus grew up and eventually had his own family. Lucas could only really watch from afar but then the kids got his age and it was hard to see him and keep the gig up. He visited his parents funeral anonymously and afterwards him and claus stood there just

“sup” “how’re the kids” “twice your age and with kids of their own” “heh, i always thought you would be the one with kids yano?”

it was very bittersweet, it felt like they’ve never been apart

“it never stops feeling strange without you” "I know”

lucas thinks of that conversation a lot

he started off the "younger uncle" then the "weird neighbourhood kid that visits grandpa claus" and inevitably the "weird kid from nowhere who goes to the cemetary every other month to put flowers on graves older than appears to be"

SO without attachments lucas traveled with boney, hoping that they find duster along the way.

eventually lucas comes back to tazmilly but it’s been a couple hundred years now and it’s completely different so he doesn’t recognize it

n lucas one day is caught outside with no shelter, it’s almost morning so he runs into osohe (which is way outta town so he assumed it was abandoned)

vampires can’t enter homes without being invited in because apparently homes are holy land but osohe is fuckn haunted so that doesn’t apply (adding on to the abandoned theory)

that’s how kumatora and him meet, she finds him exploring osohe all “wtf the fuck who are YOU...this me house”

So she gets an awkward lie explanation from lucas

n she eventually catches on lucas is a vampire n is just DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE I NEVER MET A VAMPIRE BEFORE FUCKN SWEET

lucas is just UM.;;; IS IT OK IF I STAY

"oh dude it's cool!! but u gotta tell me bout yourself bc i never met a vampire before ok?? i live iN THE PERFECT GOTHIC HOME BUT THERE’S NONE!! but here you are and i’m JACKED i gotta go to work tho so brb but afterwards u gotta tell me about yourself ok CYA"

lucas is still processing everything by the time she leaves, but he’s grateful and figures a conversation is the least he can do to repay her

in this au kumatora’s into cryptology bc her house is FULL of books and it’s a common subject (also the fact her castle is filled with ghosts and there are zombies just across the moat, it’s a p convenient hobby)

when she comes back she’s super excited because he’s still there

lucas is kinda reserved but he still answers questions bc it’s POLITE

she asks bout p much everything?? “HEY do you need that” “y-yes” “is this true?” “not that i know of” “ok experiment time” “uH;;” “wait am i keeping you up?? it’s still daytime” “no it’s okay”

after exhausting lucas of all his Vampire Facts kuma invites lucas to live at osohe castle, it’s big enough anyways

lucas is wary af bc he doesn't wanna accidentally get close to someone who 1. has a life span and 2. is technically food

but lucas ends up sticking around anyways, boney really likes it and he lowkey enjoys her company

so they keep chillin n lucas tells her how he hunts animals n how he only takes a bit of blood so they don't die and

IDK I GO BY THE THEORY THAT VAMPIRES HAVE VENOM bc otherwise their entire food source becomes COMPETITION n they can bite but not?? TURN THEM INTO ANYTHIng so controlled blood flow for feeding purposes

also vampires only need to eat once or twice a month? they die around 6+ months without eating from starvation. It all depends on how quickly the blood cells in their body die basically.

ALSO when they bite you it doesn’t hurt bc their saliva numbs it so (sneaky bites) but it still feels weird as shit

bUT YA SO LUCAS N KUMATORA CHAt a whole bunch...you know that “accidentally get close” thing i mentioned? it happened

(it was kinda hard to avoid when the first companion you have that’s not your dog is informed on vampires and vampire goods, that was convenient)

so they keep hangin out and kumatora unlocks his Tragic Backstory

n sometimes kumatora helps him feed? like they go out together finding animals n storing blood

n lucas is fascinated with how technology has advanced bc he doesn't really?? go into towns anymore but he fuckn LOVES it

n they play video games n general COOL FUNTIMES

kumatora let’s lucas borrow her labtop to occupy himself and he looks for other vampires or hints of them

(this is under the assumption that osohe can get electricity in a modern au while still being ignored / abandoned)

n when kumatora goes to work he cleans up the castle n tries to show how much hE REALLY APPRECIATES HEr

n lIKE i also go by the logic that vampires do not do the stereotypical “turn into ashes at sunlight” it is a slow progression that takes up to 12 hours until absolutely turned to a crisp

so basically if he covers himself and wears a shit ton of sunscreen he can chill in the middle of the day for like...a hour or two

and bc kumatora's WORTH IT he visits her at work n she's all LucAS WHAT ARe yO U DoING??

lookin like a modern goth kid......has a huge red burn on his cheek..

he blames it on how pale/blonde he is “my brother is ginger you know”

kuma gets super worried n he's all bruh it cool i have like..2 more hours until i need to go to a hospital

n kumas jsuT I GET OFF IN 4 HOURS GO HOME

kumatora invites him to movie nights with her friends n shit

people start calling lucas kumatora's goth boyfriend “never call him that when he's around or i'll murder you”

theyre all rather cool with lucas and find his speech kinda funny?

"wow look at those teeny boppers" "GET A LOAD OF THIS GUY GOD I LOVE IT" “???????????????" kumas friends ask for lucas more all WHAT SCHOOL DOES HE GO TO WHERE DOES HE LIVE "oh he's......foreign B)"

eventually it comes up how lucas doesn’t really want to be a vampire anymore and kumatoras just “dude i can help you find a cure” bc maybe her hobby is a bit Excessive but live your dreams

but ya lucas is just?? constantly wants to visit kumatora n loves her night shifts!! visits all the time they go on hikes a lot n jusT? GETS SO FUCKIGN ATTACHED IT SCARES HIM CONSTANTLY

they sometimes fall asleep on the couch together n when he's all "wow shes so cute.." he realizes how fucking Deep he’s in this and he’s FUCKED

he tries to distance himself but he Can’t Fucking Do It (just like w/ his fam)

whenever he tries to push her away she looks so upset it kills him

N HE'S IN SUCH A STRUGGLE BC HE'S JUST

SO HAPPY TO BE AROUND HER??????

N LIKE WHEN THEY CUDDLE N STUFF HE'S JUST SO OVERWHELMED BC oh my god heartbeats!! oh my god she's gonna die before me

n lucas really fucking feels the severity of how FUCKED he is when its her birthday n hes just

yes she's gonna age and he's gonna outlive her n they could never realistically be happy even if by some offhand chance she even RETURNS the feelings

N HE HAS TO HIDE HIS CRYING N STUFF BUT KUMATORA HAS A 6TH FUCKN SENSE FOR DISTRESSED LUCAS SO SHE'S ALL bruh :( whats up

so he opens up to her about his feelings and anxiety and she hugs him through it, it’s kind of a shitty way to confess

“idk if i can forgive you for deciding that i’m gonna die before you” “are you threatening murder” “that and no way death’s gonna get me, i’m pretty stubborn”

a lil while passes

“you know... i’m okay with becoming a vampire” lucas refuses bc dude.. you can’t even comprehend the weight of immortality.. what if she regrets it

“to hell if i make my closest friend suffer because of a life span” “hah i guess that’s the same for me”

they drop the vampire topic for the time being and move on to other ones such as... mutual feelings :^)

they’re both romantically inclined i mean... lucas spent 300+ years being a hermit and kumatora had other things to do

so they take it slow, it’s p much the same as before except.. hey...now when i think “man i wanna hold their hand” i CAN

it'd also be really sad and/or cute if the ghosts in the castle some of them were lucas's family which might be why boney likes it so much but also imagine them kissin on the couch "kuma ghosts r there" "EH THEYRE JUst ghosts" ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) claus looks into the camera "after so long... finally my little brother gets some action :')"

but idk if that’s a thing bc it feels kinda weird i feel like kissin n shit wouldn't b very often bc as much as they both loVE IT

IT'S NOT THAT GREAT FOR A VAMPIRE

YANO.... HEARTS R BEATING... NECK IS RIGHT THERE (lucas still adores it tho)

so back to the topic of Mortality

kuma gets attacked in an alley on the way home from work

n lucas finds her bc they were gonna meet up but he smelt the blood and when he does find her he just goes FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK n didn't know how to save her

also thinking rationally is hard when OH LOOK AT ALL THAT BLOOD AHhaHA

SO HE BITES HER

he carries her body home n he spends the whole waiting process between DEAD and VAMPIRE crying just "hoyl shti please work please work" “what did i fucking dooooo” “what if i was earlier” “what if i was too late” so many anxieties

kuma wakes up and lucas transistions from panic to HAPPY PANIC OH THANK GOD

she’s really out of it bc of the process and he’s crying apologies “it’s okay you saved me” but he’s still crying, they cuddle for comfort

"hey atleast we did it NOW when i'm a hot sexy 19 yr old and not a wrinkly old lady” “kuma” “i’m tryna make light of the conversation”

so now that kumatora’s a vampire she only works night shifts until she eventually quits. They moved to a new town / whatever so it was easy to avoid having to meet someone in the daytime. facebook helped keep in touch with her friends while still letting the friendship die out.

it took kumatora a bit to get used to being a vampire. she threw up a lot at first and she didn’t like having to drink blood but she did eventually get used to it

idk if they find a cure bc idk what the cure would BE but they eventually find other vampires :^) they continued lucas’s search for duster and probably found him tbh

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antiquechampagne · 5 years

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Antique Champagne - Chapter 33 - The Hook

Hancock was half way through telling Payne and Fahrenheit about the time he dared his 10-year-old brother to ride a wild brahmin for a bottle of Nuka Cola when he noticed one of the Vertibirds circling a bit too close for his liking. With a slight nod, he caught Fahr’s attention and directed it to the encroaching aircraft. Unexpectedly, the vehicle dipped down close to the horizon. In the dark, it was hard to see beyond the sandbanks, but Hancock was fairly certain he saw some hulking silhouettes jump from its open sides before it returned to its circling pattern.

“These Brotherhood guys aren’t exactly subtle, are they?” He popped a Mentat in his mouth, downing it with a few swallows from the bottle in his hands.

As Fahr readied her weapon, Hancock shook his head.

“We gotta play this cool.”

Scowling, Fahr put it back down, keeping it within easy reach. Payne moved to sit next to him just as four people crested the hill. Three were in power armor. They stopped at the edge of the ring of firelight. The fourth, a woman in a drab and orange bodysuit, stepped forward. All held laser rifles in their hands.

"We are clearing this area of non-Brotherhood personnel. You need to move along," ordered the woman, addressing Fahrenheit directly. Fahr just scowled.

"It's such a nice night, why don't you join us and have something to eat." He motioned jovially to the roasted meat remaining in their unconventional cooking pot, a carefully crafted smile spread across his face. He was calculating the odds of them taking on such a heavily armored group, hoping it wouldn't come to that.

"Soldiers do not fraternize with Commonwealth... citizens." Hancock had the feeling if she could have set him on fire with her eyes, she would have. She turned back to Fahr. "Your camp is too close to the airport. Leave or you will be removed."

"Come on, there is no need for all that. We'll be gone in the morn... HEY NOW!" Hancock protested as a steel clad boot swiftly kicked over the pot, dousing the fire with leftover mirelurk meat and juice. Everyone rose to their feet, the air tense. Payne and Fahr looked to him for direction. These guys were acting like they were itching for a fight. Hancock wasn't about to indulge them.

"We're not going to ask again."

"Fine. Fine. We're going." He started to pack up the few things that were laying around. Payne and Fahr followed suit, keeping their eyes glued to the soldiers. "The Commonwealth isn't exactly a cakewalk at night, ya know."

"Not my problem, zombie."

Hancock could see Payne clench her jaw, but keep whatever she was thinking to herself.

They trudged back up the sandbars in the dark. It wasn't hard to spot the Vertibird that tailed them. When they reached the edge of the city, it turned back in the direction of the airport.

"That wasn't exactly what I had planned." Hancock shook his head. Good to know the Commonwealth found another bully in their midst. Fahr laid a hand on his shoulder briefly before passing him to take point.

"There's a group of buildings up there. There might be a decent place to hole up for the night," she suggested.

They found a clump of old shops along the wide crumbling road. As they walked, Hancock found himself looking back at Payne. The pale moonlight outlined her features in a particularly pleasing way; a bit softer than the harsh electric lights in Goodneighbor. He found himself liking being out and about with her again.

Two of the buildings looked promising enough to attempt a closer look. Payne took up watch as he tried the door on the first building. It looked like it might have been a bar, with small boarded up windows. The door only budged a few inches as he pushed. It took both him and Fahr to force it open; the boxes that barricaded it shut scraped noisily against the tile floor inside.

Payne looked back to them. “Anything inside?”

Fahr stuck her head in, peering around the door. “Nah, just a skeleton. We should sweep for ferals, just in case.”

Payne nodded and turned to enter when an echoing howl broke the still night around them. Turning on their heels, a snarling mutant hound bounded across the street towards them.

“Shit!” spat Payne, opening fire with her rifle and missing.

Fahr managed to sink a bullet into its flank, but it continued its deadly charge. As Hancock took aim and fired into the beasts head, a super mutant popped their head around the corner of the opposite building.

“Die puny human!” it screamed as it lobbed a grenade into the air.

“TAKE COVER!” Hancock shouted.

The trio scrambled for cover. Fahrenheit dove head first into the building while Payne and Hancock ducked behind debris on opposite side of the door.

Bits of stone and metal fragments bounced off the overturned vending machine protecting Hancock. His ears rang as he lined up and shot at the aggravated mutant. It look him a moment to notice Payne frantically waving her arm for him to get down, her yelling muted by the recent explosion. After glancing over his shoulder, he dropped back down on his knees behind his cover. Behind him, charging down the road at full tilt was a super mutant, a mini nuke in the crook of its left arm. He couldn’t hear the telltale beep of its deadly payload over his temporary tinnitus. Payne unloaded half a clip into the mutant’s head, the body skidding to a stop a few feet from Hancock, the nuke thankfully still intact.

Hancock turned to give Payne a quick thanks, just in time to see the super mutant who had been hiding behind the building sprint to her side. It wrapped a huge meaty hand around her throat, lifting her off her feet. Her feet kicked wildly as the mutant began to squeeze, her mouth gasping to breathe.

Shoving a pair of shells into his shotgun, Hancock tried to unload them into the mutant’s face. He only succeeded in grazing their shoulder. It turned to face him, snarling in rage.

The snarl quickly turned to scream of pain, the mutant’s new target was quickly forgotten. Payne grabbed two of its branch-like fingers and pulled; the sickening snap of bones forcing the creature’s hand to open. Hancock was about to let out a sigh of relief as Payne dropped to the ground, but he saw face splattered with super mutant blood from his shotgun blast. Her eyes, bloodshot to the point of being little more than red orbs, were wild and crazed. His stomach dropped as she hungrily licked the mutant blood from around her mouth.

He felt he was moving in slow motion as Payne turned and crawled up the green giant’s body. She locked herself around the monster’s head, fingers dug knuckle deep into the flesh under its massive jaw. Blood poured down the beast’s massive chest as it danced wildly; beating its thick muscled fists on her back in an attempt to break the deadly lock. She barely register the blows. Payne heaved and pulled, struggling to rip the skull free from the shoulders she sat on.

Her mouth twisted into a startling grimace as she screamed in rage. Hancock watched her veins pop in grotesque patterns over her straining muscles. With a sickening crack, the mutant fell to the ground, Payne rolling with it, landing on her feet. Her eyes locked with his, just for a moment. Suddenly another mutant hound appeared, snarling with rage as it ran towards them. Payne immediately snarled back and ran to meet it.

A bewildered Fahr ducked out of the way as Hancock dove into building.

“Close the door!” he ordered.

“What?”

“DO IT!”

They both pressed themselves against the warped wooden door. The rusty metal hinges screamed in protest before giving up and swinging closed.

Hunkered down below a boarded up window, Fahr asked frustratedly, “What the fuck is going on?”

“Stay down.” Hancock snuck a peek outside through the spaces in the boards. He didn’t have time to explain right now.

More mutants had circled around, taking aim at Payne as she caught the hounds jaws mid-lunge. With one yank, she ripped off its lower jaw. Leaving it mortally wounded in the street, she rushed the remaining mutants. Hancock saw several bullets hit, but Payne didn’t even flinch as she ran directly for the group. They quickly retreated back around the corner with Payne in hot pursuit.

Hancock tried to formulate a quick answer to satisfy Fahr. The sound of screaming and gunfire was making it hard to concentrate. “Super mutant blood is like Psycho for her… really concentrated Psycho.” He winced as another explosion ripped through the air.

“And you were going to tell me this when?”

All Hancock could do was shrug weakly. If looks could kill, Hancock would have been dead on the spot. After a few minutes under Fahr’s gaze, he realized gravely that the gunfire and yelling had stopped. They held their breath as they waited in the dusty dark for any signs of life.

The seconds ticked by. Hancock couldn’t stand it any longer. He turned to head out the door. As his hand reached for the door handle, Fahrenheit grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” She was furious.

“I have to see if Payne is alright. You stay here.”

“Like hell I am!”

Hancock didn’t know how Payne would react to Fahr, especially if she was still neck deep in her mutant-blood filled trip or if she perceived her as a threat. Not that he was too sure how Payne would react to him, but he had to know. “No, you have to stay here. Cover me.” Fahr started to argue. He cut her off. “Cover me.”

Before he could get through the doorway, he saw movement across the road. Payne slowly walked along the side of the building, dragging herself along the brick wall. She left a shoulder high bloody streak. Her tired body covered in grime and gore, she looked around, panicked and bewildered.

“John?” she called weakly. “Fahr?”

Hancock stepped forward. “Payne?”

When her eyes drifted up to see him, her shoulders slumped as she let out a sigh. “Oh, thank god…” She gripped the wall in an attempt to mover herself along quicker. Hancock began to run to her side, but she collapsed face-first as she stumbled into the street.

“Payne!” Hancock quickly helped her up.

“John… Fahr? Is she…” she struggled to get the words out.

“She’s fine. She’s inside.” Under his fingers, he could feel her frame shaking. He pulled her arm over his shoulders, helping her to her feet. She tried to support herself, but her muscles were failing. “Let’s get you out of the open.” Payne took a few more steps before her head rolled forward and she collapsing again. Hancock stumbled.

“Fahr! I need some help.” he called desperately.

Fahr emerged from the doorway. She studied Payne before hesitantly grabbing her other arm. Quickly they drug her unconscious body into the relative safety of the building. As they lowered her to the floor, Payne perked up. She seemed to not know where she was, looking around frantically again.

“John? Fahr?”

“It’s okay, we’re fine,” Hancock tried to soothe and reassure her again. He took out a small lantern from his pack and started to look over Payne. She was clearly exhausted and in shock, her eyes struggling to stay open. What really worried him was the nastly burn that extended the entire length of her left leg. He got out a can of water for her to drink, but she collapsed before he could hand it to her. He cursed under his breath.

Fahr paced angrily. The sound of her boots grated his frayed nerves.

“Could you go make a sweep out there? Make sure no other mutants are going to surprise us. Take the leftover grenades.”

“We just watched Payne go all ‘Grognak-the-Barbarian’ and you want to be alone with her?” she balked.

“She can barely walk, Fahr, even if she was awake. It shouldn’t take you long just to look.”

Fahrenheit scowled. “If I come back and she’s pulling off your arms and beating you with them, I’m just going to watch and laugh.” She steamed off.

Hancock shook his head and focused on the task at hand. Pouring the water on a rag, he started to clean the gore from Payne’s face, pulling chunks from her hair. He inspected her burn. It was a deep, and filled with debris and remnants of fabric. It needed to be cleaned out before it started to heal.

Suddenly, he heard retching coming from outside. He put the water down carefully next to Payne before poking his head out the door. Fahr stood doubled over across the street, heaving into an ancient concrete planter. A bad feeling started to prickle the back of his brain.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he crossed the street quickly, feeling it would be tempting fate to leave Payne alone for too long in the state she was in.

Fahrenheit gasped for air. Unable to form words, she just pointed behind the building.

Hancock rounded the corner and immediately stopped. Inside the façade of the gutted building lay a half-dozen giant green bodies in various stages of dismemberment. Returning to Fahr’s side, he found himself fighting a wave of lightheadedness.

Taking off his hat with one hand, Hancock ran his other hand over his snarled scalp. “Well, that’s all kinds of fucked up.”

“Ya THINK?” Fahr spat back. “It looks like she fucking climbed through a few of them.” Her eyes were on fire as she glared at him. “And you were going to tell me about this when?”

Hancock shrugged uncomfortably. “It didn’t really come up.”

“HANCOCK! Seriously? What would have happened if she went nuts in town and ripped through… god knows how many people?”

“That’s not going to happen. There is no reason for there to be any super mutant blood anywhere in town. Besides, I told Charley to only give her clean drinks.”

“What about out here? We could have ended up in that pile!”

Hancock shook his head. “That didn’t happen. She wouldn’t do something like that.”

Fahr’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then why did we hide?” Hancock paused, eyes narrowing. Fahrenheit took this as proof she right. “Payne is dangerous, and you know it. Leave her here. If the other shit you’ve told me is true, she'll be fine."

He could feel his chest get tight, his face tighten. “She hasn’t killed anyone who hasn’t deserved it! And she saved our asses just now!”

“Quit thinking with your dick and think with your head! She’s not worth the risk!”

He stomped the crumbling cement. “Fahr!”

He meant for that to end the argument, but Fahr had other ideas. “No, John. Not this time. I’m not playing this game. I’m leaving. You need to come with me.”

They stared at each other in the still dark night. Stone faced, Fahrenheit turned on her heels and walked away, leaving Hancock alone in the middle of the vacant street.

This trip was definitely not going as planned. He had wanted a little jaunt to stretch his legs. Maybe they'd get some firsthand look at the Brotherhood. If Fahr and Payne could work out some of their kinks, even better. What a shit-fest.

He started a small fire and kept watch over Payne until she started to stir about an hour later. She woke bewildered like before, calling out for Hancock and Fahr.

“I’m here, Payne,” he sounded a bit more tired than he intended.

“Where’s Fahr?” she asked tensely.

“She’s fine…” He guided her attention away from Fahr’s absence. “How are you feeling? You did quite a number on those mutants.”

“I hurt all over. My leg… is it burned?” She tried to bend to see the swath of burned fabric covering her raw leg. “Oh, shit. That’s bad.”

“Do you recall what happened?”

“I don’t…” she struggled for words. “I don’t remember much. I remember the suicider… and then one grabbed me,“ her hand went instinctively to her throat, then to her mouth. She grimaced and looked down, shame on her face. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke next. “Did I hurt her?”

“No. You didn’t lay a finger on either of us. Fucked those muties right up, though.”

She was silent for a while. "Did you two fight?"

Hancock nodded his head.

"She thinks I'm a monster." he didn't move this time. More silence. "You know, she's right."

"When I became Mayor of Goodneighbor, I made sure everyone knew that everyone was welcome. No judgments. I still stand by that."

He could see by her eyes that she had a hard time believing that. "I just have to double check that Charley keeps the super mutant martinis off the menu." He felt he had won a small victory as she cracked the smallest of smiles.

"Now," he continued. "We need to get to some nasty business. That leg needs to be cleaned out, and it ain't gunna tickle."

"Bring it..." she didn't sound so sure. "I can get most of it, probably to the knee. But after that, I'm gonna need some help."

Hancock had studied the wound.” Many of the edges appeared fused with the burn. "First off, we need to get those pants off.”

She propped herself up on her elbows, chuffed and ignored the innuendo. “That’s not going to be easy… just cut the leg off.”

Hancock froze for a second before he realized she meant the pant leg. He grabbed his knife.

“I’ll get it.” Payne grabbed the blade from him, slipping the blade between the fabric and her skin. Her weakened state combined with some very awkward angles, she struggled to cut it, but the edge was sharp and soon Hancock was helping her remove the blood soaked denim. Exhausted, she dropped back to the floor, sweating and panting.

Recovering her breath, she asked “Could you get that bag of concrete?” She pointed to the corner of the room. “I am going to need something to lean on.”

Hancock was sure the prewar package would split under the stress of being moved, but it stayed intact as he slid it into place. Payne pulled out the two blood bags she had packed, a prize for once they finished. Over the next hour and a half, the two of them worked in tandem to remove bits of burned fabric and embedded rocks from her leg. Payne grunted and hissed as the pain peaked and ebbed. Pulling her boot and sock off earned the bag of concrete a few choice punches. Washing the wound was reserved to the very end, their clean water supply pitifully low. When Hancock finally gave the all clear, she guzzled the blood down greedily.

Morning had begun to lazily stream through the board-covered windows as Payne’s wounds started to ever so slowly close.

“Mind handing me a stimpak?” She asked. “It’ll help a little bit.”

“Won’t it make you sleepy?” Hancock asked as he handed one over.

“Yeah, but with daybreak, I’m not going anywhere soon.” She stuck the needle into her bare thigh and pushed the plunger down.

Hancock scrounged up a pair of Potato Crisps, tossing one to Payne. They munched in silence.

“Why did you stay? I would have been fine.”

“Would you have come back to Goodneighbor, if I left?” Payne didn’t answer. “That’s why. You’re a halfway decent bodyguard. Plus, I trust you.”

“What about Fahr? She’s not going to be too happy to see me when we get back.”

“You really think this is the worst thing I’ve ever done?”

Payne shrugged.

“She’ll get over it. She always does.”

#antique champagne #fallout #fallout 4 #fanfic #fan fic #hancock #fahrenheit #payne #brotherhood of steel #Super Mutant #gore #ao3

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wlwhc · 7 years

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Preference The 100 ladies: Their reaction when you’re sick

Anon ask: Preference of the 100 when R is sick , how they would react

Warning: a little swearing here and there

(A/N): I think you guys don’t understand how much I love the 100 ladies, especially Clarke..and raven....lexa...EVERYONE

Masterlist / Prompt List / Fandom List / Ask me anything!

Clarke Griffin: Worried and Anxious. We are talking about Clarke right here, she’s going to be so damn worried, she will do the impossible to make you feel better. She will obviously not let you get out of bed, not even walk. She will be the only one allowed to take care of you along with her mother. She will be really protective and will ask if you need something every 5 minutes. “hey babe , how are you? do you need something? let me see if the fiber is gone...you’re even more hot, why are you not healing?! and yOU’RE PALER MOOOM!”. But in the end, you’re going to be just fine, she will finally sigh in relief that you are safe and sound.

Lexa: Worried and Scared. Another protective lady, but this one will be scared. Lexa know that her people didn’t have the same technology as the Skaikru, even the flu could kill you on the ground so it was understandable how scared she was. She will call fro the best healer and medicine, ask help to Clarke to heal you, anything that was needed she will get it for you. She will be there for you even though Titus didn’t want her to get near you cause whatever you had it could be contagious. Lexa didn’t care about that, she spent the whole time by your side, kissing your cheeks and telling you stories. “don’t worry hodnes, you will be fine, I’ll keep you safe”

Raven Reyes: Upset and Worried. How did you get sick? she’s always all over you reminding you when you forgot to eat or sleep. You do the same to her, so how did you get sick?. That was the thing that makes her upset, she thinks she didn’t take care of you enough. She will be worried but once Abby tells her you were going to be fine she relaxes and spend the whole day with you, forgetting about the millions of thing she has to fix. If you don’t to be in bed she will take you with her to the workshop and let you cuddle with her while she works. “how you’re feeling babe? do you need something? I can take you to Abby if you want”.

Octavia Blake: Worried and Protective. No one will dare to get 5 feet closer to you in this state cause Octavia will kill them. She’s very protective of you, and knowing that you’re sick she will be even more protective. She thinks you’re made of porcelain. She also knows how dangerous is living on the ground, and all the disease that could possibly kill you. She will ask for help to Nyko or Abby, even Clarke. If Nyko needs any herbs or plants for treat you, she will get them in a second. She will take care of you, giving you little pecks on your cheeks or telling stories about her time in The Ark. Anything you need she will get it for you. “don’t worry love, you will be okay in no time”

Abby Griffin: Worried but Calm. She’s a Doctor, she knows when she needs to freak out. But that doesn’t mean she will not worry about you, she will seem calm, but inside she will be worried. Her mother instinct will kick in every time you get sick, so there’s going to be a lot of cuddles, forehead kisses and lots and lots of little pecks. “you will be fine dear, just take this pills and this *kiss* and you will be okay”

Luna: Worried and Scared. Although she won’t show it, she will be scared, her clan didn’t have the best medicine, she will call Nyko to help you. She will be worried that maybe she won’t be able to help you or save you.Once that Nyko tell her that you’re going to be okay she will release a huge sigh that she didn’t know she was holding. She will take care of you, keeping you away from the little kid so they don’t get sick, she will take you to little walks to get some fresh air. She will also sing you to sleep or caress your hair. “you will be fine Y/N, I got you”

Anya: Upset but secretly worried. You know how Anya is, and her whole belief of weakness. Although this doesn’t mean she’s not going to be worried about you, she will be pissed off cause you didn’t take care of yourself enough. She will tell you to go to the healer. but once she gets back to your tent and sees you sweating for the fiber, pale as snow, all that weakness crap will disappear, she will worry and a lot. She will take care of you, making sure to call the healer again and threaten them “if you do not cure Y/N I’ll kill you”. She will not admit it, but once you fall asleep she will cuddle with you, slowly caressing your hair, whispering a few things like: “I thought you got better that’s by I didn’t come earlier, sorry….You scared me today, you are too pale but the healer will help you...stay alive okay? .. Or I’ll kill you myself”

Ontari: Secretly worried. She doesn’t give a fuck, excuse my words, but, she’s a tough warrior, she won’t care at first, she will see you walking like a zombie and laugh at your state like “how can you be so weak?”, she will not let you go to the healer cause “you’re stronger than a fiber”. That’s until you faint, oh god she didn’t know what to do, she will panic, and then call for the best healer around, hiding her worry with “I don’t want to get sick, help her so she can serve me once again, hurry!” She will ask the healer to take you to her room. She will stare at you while you sleep, hopíng that you get better. “Stupid servant … I’ll punish you later for being such an idiot, I told you to go to the healer!”.

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autumn-elwood · 6 years

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A Study in Invigorating Description

This is a prompt list. Please vote in the ask box. Please. I've worked on this for several days. Please. Just write a number between 1 and 20. Please.

Also available on Blogger

Enjoy! (I'm exhausted. Send coffee.)

1. When I was younger I always thought I was pretty hot shit. I could write stories and draw pictures that could move even my toughest classmates to tears. As an adult, I came to the stunning realization that I was not, in fact, the hot shit I thought I was. My first manuscript did not even make it past the publishers and my other attempts fared no better. It was not, however, because I lacked talent. One man told me my writing was great but I lacked references. Why should I risk publishing your work if I don’t know if it will tank or not, he told me. It’s not worth the risk.

Since then I have set my book career aside to earn myself some small time fame. I am now a journalist for a local paper.

“Clyde? What are you thinking about? The ask-column is due by 17:00! Hurry your ass up!”

“Almost done, Grace. I just need to complete some small corrections,” I hollered back. Grace did not reply.

One day I’m going to make it big with a novel that’s going to knock everyone’s socks off. Those damn publishers are going to regret the day they turned down the brilliant writing of Clyde Palmer.

“Wipe that damn smirk off your face Palmer and get to editing!”

“Yes, Grace.”

I hate that woman. 2. Patrick Delaney will freely admit he is slightly terrified of his daughter. She is a skinny little thing of thirteen with no weight training to speak of, that can lift things that would give him trouble. Don’t get him wrong. He still loves his little princess but seeing her lift two twenty-four packs of water bottles at the same time would make any single father break a sweat. He was finally getting used to her unnatural strength when she dent a semi’s hood that had been careening toward a small boy and herself.

When that happened, Patrick did what every reasonable person would do in that situation; he fainted.

3. Humans, in my experience, are odd and violent creatures. Many of them strive for individualism while attacking anyone and anything they perceive as different from themselves. Quite the paradox.

My name is Venxiaqle and I am not from this planet. I am an explorer from a small planet on the far ends of the Milky Way galaxy. After landing on Earth, or Terra Prime as it is called on my homeworld, I was quite thankful to have been born with my shape-shifting ability, that I inherited from my father. Without it, I fear my new earthling companion, William, would have attacked me worse. He was quite terrified when I crashed my ship on a strip of his grandparents’ grape orchard.

Despite our rocky start, I am grateful to have found a native to help me detail the wildlife of ‘Earth’ and assist me in blending in with the planet's dominating species, the human. I just wish he would call me by my actual name, instead of the diminutive, Vinney.

4. I breathed heavily as I scaled the desolated parking complex, dragging my companion up. Mandy was frightened and apologetic, muttering unintelligently about how it was all her fault. I wanted to smack her but I was afraid her already weakened jaw wouldn’t be able to take the force. Most of the flesh in that area had already decomposed and the only thing keeping it attached was some discolored skin and her muscles.

The zombies after us were my fault. The hunters were Mandy’s. Both of us were simultaneously at fault and victims of our circumstances. Mandy had been turned and had kept her mind while I was in love with her.

“Amy, please just leave me behind,” she pleaded. “You need to escape.”

“Not without you, honey,” I told her. “Never without you. We said death ‘till us part and you’re still kicking even if you aren’t breathing, sweetie.”

“You’re an idiot, Amy,” she muttered as she held me tighter, rubbing her oily head into the crook of my neck as I hoisted us above the ledge of one of the parking levels.

“That’s why you love me,” I laughed as I tossed a homemade explosive at our pursuers, zombie and human alike. At one time I would have felt bad for all of the people I just massacred but now I felt only relief. Fire slowed down the zombies and charred humans couldn’t shoot us or be forced to join the ranks of our undead pals.

I heard the cock of a shotgun.

“Fuck.”

5. My neighbor, Rena, scares me. I often see her storming down the corridors of our apartment complex with murder written on her face. The few times I have heard her speak, she was yelling and cursing like the world had personally insulted her. I do not know if I am more scared of her or for her. Sometimes I just want to ask her what’s wrong. How’s your blood pressure? Can I do anything to help you?

“What the fuck do you want, bitch?”

“Nothing Rena!” I whimpered as she passed me that afternoon of September 12th.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously in my direction. Oh my god. What did I do? Is she going to kill me? Why? Oh, I’m so dead. God, help me.

“How the fuck do you know my name, round face?”

Round face? I hugged my chubby body subconsciously. Why couldn’t she have continued to call me bitch like she does like every other chick on this row? What did I say to warrant a nickname?

“I heard the landlord yelling at you when you moved in,” I whispered.

Rena looked pissed.

“Stupid son of a bitch. Can’t keep his mouth shut,” she muttered mutinously. “Anyways, what’s your name, round face?”

“Um, Lucy…”

Rena gave me a stiff nod before she stomped off to her flat. I clutched my heart and sank to the floor. Well, that was over, thank the lord.

6. Sometimes the things we love the most hurt us the most. That was very true for me. I stared in horror as a large shadow towered over me like a running spider. Like hail from the sky, the books rained down on me, leaving no inch unbruised. I whimpered and pushed the heavy novels off me only to be assaulted by four more books.

“Oh shit,” an unfamiliar male voice shouted. “Are you alright?”

“Is that you, God?” I muttered unironically.

“Not the god you’re talking about.”

I threw the tomes off me.

“What?!”

“Kidding,” a man with caramel skin snickered. HIs eyes were black like the void. He seemed like the kind of guy that if he were a fictional character people way younger than him would be screaming, “My son, I will protect you!”

“Hug me.”

“What?”

I should not have said that.

7. When I became a villain I did not sign up to be a parent. Usually, when you think villain, you think terrorizing the public and world domination, which is what I signed up for, not trying to get some twelve-year-old some help.

My nemesis, Star Child, had been kicking my proverbial ass for months when I realized he was in fact twelve.You would think I would be offended that my arch enemy was a pre-teen but I was in reality, horrified. I had held a twelve-year-old boy above an acid tank. I had thrown him into several buildings. I had broken his arm. He wasn’t even in high school and he was fighting supervillains. Oh my god.

Next time we fought, I handcuffed him to a chair and gave him some fruit slices.

“Why are you not in school?” I began. “Your grades are important, Star Child. Even if you choose to pursue hero work after you complete your education, you still need to be able to get a job. Also, you are twelve. You should not be going up against supervillains at your age. Small crime maybe but supervillains… No.”

The boy blinked rapidly. Several times he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Finally, he settled on a very intelligent, “What?”

I scowled at him and put my hands on my hips.

“KId, do not throw away your life for a payless job. Being a hero is noble and very rewarding but it doesn’t pay the bills. Besides, what would your parents say f they knew you were fighting crime instead of doing your homework.

Dead? Fuck. Who’s watching this kid if he gets away with this? I need to adopt this kid stat. Wait, no. I can’t. I’m a villain He’s my nemesis. I really shouldn’t.

Fuck it. I’m going to adopt this kid.

8. Two days ago, Daddy finished building me so I look like a normal little boy. Yesterday, Daddy was arrested for villain activity. Today, Mommy’s still scared of me. She doesn’t know what to do with me. My energy levels are low and my water tank is near empty as a result of me sobbing as I watched Daddy be arrested on television. Daddy hooked me up to the internet and the internet says villains are evil. I hate Daddy. He made Mommy sad and scared.

I don’t think he told Mommy I have to eat. Another reason I hate Daddy now is because he left Mommy with the burden of taking care of me all by herself.

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” I whispered as we watch Daddy’s arrest for the 767th time. She hadn’t eaten since it happened. I hope taking care of me will remind her even though I scare her. I wish I knew why Mommy was scared of me. Maybe then, I could fix it.

“What?” she stuttered out in alarm. She flinched seeing how close I was.

“I’m hungry, Mommy. We haven’t eaten since yesterday and we haven’t slept. I’m tired.”

She hugged herself and looked away from me. Her long glossy black locks were a mess and her dark circles were unhealthy pronounced. She looked pale and broken like a porcelain doll that had slipped off its display shelf. I wanted to hug her but I knew any physical action of comfort I could offer would only make things worse. My body was so cold.

“Don’t call me that,” she sobbed, voice cracking.

“Mommy–”

“Chester, I’m not your mom. Evan― your dad―started making you when we found out I was infertile,” she wiped a few stray tears away, straightening herself like a soldier preparing for battle. “Frankly, I never approved and based off what happened yesterday, he… he started working with villains to get the parts to make you

“I found a letter in his journal. They only agreed to fund him if they could use you later. I… I don’t know what to do. I just know I can’t handle being your mother. I just can’t, knowing what they’re going to use you for. I can’t let myself get attached to you.”

I felt tears build in my eyes. “ I don’t want to be a villain. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to be a hero. I want to stop people like Daddy from hurting other people!”

She looked at me like a shattering wine glass and lunged forward, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Chester. I’m sorry,” she wailed.

The meaning of her apology evaded me but those words and her arms made me feel something I had yet to feel in my two days of existence; safe. My resolve to become a hero cemented itself into my programming. I would become the strongest, kindest hero and no one, not Daddy and not anyone else would ever hurt Mommy, or anyone else, like this again. I would not allow it.

9. It’s 1:00 am and I should be asleep but I’m not. What my father said early this evening echoes in my head.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he said as he pulled me into his unfamiliar arms.

I do not understand why he apologized. This is hardly the first time he has said I have ruined his life. This is just the first time he has said it so blatantly. He has never said sorry before so I am confused on why he is now. Maybe Mom told him he had to. I wouldn’t be surprised.

I’m tired of pondering this but it won’t leave me alone. Hearing him say that should have made me sad or mad or something but I hardly blinked. I just went to my room and did my homework.

“What are you doing up?” I heard my brother ask from my door.

“I could ask you the same question, Peter.”

He walked over to my bed and sat down near my feet.

“He should know better than to say things like that to us, to you, Eliza. He’s an adult.”

“He’s a child who never grew up. He was just throwing a tantrum because my opinion didn’t fall in line with his.

He clenched his fists in his lap and growled.

“That doesn’t make it any better, that doesn’t excuse him.”

I breathed out a laugh.

“I know but there’s nothing we can do. We just have to deal with it.”

Peter threw his hands in the air, his face turning red with anger.

“We shouldn’t have to deal with it,” he whisper-shouted.

“I know,” I sighed, my heavy eyes sliding shut as slipped into oblivion.

10. I’m sitting on the cool itchy grass of summer, staring at the inky night sky. Around me, couples and families sit on picnic blankets, on the edge of their seats staring up at the glittering heavens in anticipation. I am alone.

Boom! The first firework explodes in a cascade of reds, blues, and golds.

Many times when people think of fireworks, they think of smiling children running around with sparklers, a kiss between lovers under the vivacious colors, hope. I do not think of these things. I think of how a firework can parallel loneliness. The unexploded firework being launched into the sky is like me when I say everything’s wonderful and amazing, and I don’t need anyone to be happy.

The explosion is when it all comes crashing down. So many tumultuous feelings breaking free of their bottle. The furious roar of red unrighteous anger covering up the fear. The endless chasms of blue sorrow and hopelessness. The festering and blistering like greens of envy. I hate fireworks but here I am watching them again, my emotions on full display to my empty eyes.

It is truly pathetic.

11. Veronica had always been a risk taker so when her friend Barry dared her to spend the night in the abandoned house on 6th street, she hadn’t said no. She told Barry that his dare was a bit cliche but she hadn’t said no.

The abandoned building on 6th was practically a public danger. It had been sealed off in the sixties but was much older than that. The right corner of the place’s roof was caved in and the structural integrity of the place was poor. The place was infested with rats and bugs of all sorts. There was illegible graffiti throughout the rotten walls and few had dared step foot in it since the murder five years ago. Regrettably, the murder had revived the urban legend that the place was haunted.

Veronica thought those rumours were bullshit but Barry believed in them wholeheartedly. Probably the reason he chose this dare, she thought with an internal scoff.

She carefully laid her stuff in the middle of the floor of what she thought may have once been a dining room. She slowly lowered herself onto the floor, wincing at every creak of the ratty wooden floor. So far she hadn’t found any evidence of ghosts but she hadn’t really ventured past the first floor. To be honest, she was more scared of finding a living person in the house than an incorporable being of post-human consciousness. She crossed her fingers and went to bed.

Her blood was pumping with excitement which made nodding off very difficult. Urban exploration was illegal after all. She felt herself drifting off when a young voice cut through her drowsiness.

“What are you doing here?”

Her eyes snapped open. Veronica barely held back a scream. Above her was a floating young girl, her long hair seemingly unaffected by gravity with her eyeballs gouged out leaving bloody black holes in their place.

Veronica struggled backward, incoherent noises exiting her mouth in panic. The specter followed after her and stopped as Veronica made impact with a wall.

“Hi! I’m Erie,” she beamed, obliviously unaware of Veronica’s terror. She wondered if the ghost could see. “What’s your name?”

“Veronica,” she managed to squeak out before fainting.

12. Kain couldn’t help but feel bored for some odd reason. He honestly shouldn’t be feeling bored with the number of adventures Cyrus and himself had been on together since they took up the pseudonyms, Castor and Pollux, and joining the cavern of Hermes.

They had made tons of new friends in Eris, Apollo, Thanatos, and Persephone. They had raided a slave auction and dug up objects and tomes from the buried pre-rest buildings in the dunes of the Estival Desert. They had even met up with Lady Alma to make sure she was getting on alright, for crying out loud. Kain was safe from Lord Zafar. Cyrus was safe from Lord Zafar. They got to transcribe books and sell them in Apple-polish market.

Why was he so bored?!

“Um… Are there any titles you would recommend?” a familiar voice queried.

He looked up to see a man with short blond hair and a scruffy beard. He looked familiar too. Had he met this man before?

“Oliver Twist’s pretty―,” he began before cutting himself off, the man’s identity becoming shockingly clear.

“You bastard,” Kain growled, eyes filled with rage.

The bastard blinked in surprise, unsure of how to respond to Kain’s sudden insult.

“Pollux,” he heard Cyrus say with a sharp a sharp warning before making apologies to the customer.

Kain clenched his fists, his anger rising even higher after realizing Cyrus didn’t recognize the bastard in front of them. And even worse, the no good lying son of a bitch didn’t recognize them either. Kain threw a hand in front of his brother in a clear sign for the younger boy to be quiet. Cyrus’ voice faded off and he stared at his brother nervously, wondering what Kain was going to say.

“How dare you show your face here in front of me after what you did!” Kain sneered.

The man looked flustered as he glanced around the market at the stares they were attracting. “Sir, I believe you have the wrong―”

Kain slammed his hands on the front of the stall, cutting the man off.

“How dare you show your face after you abandoned your wife and children to the mercy of Lord Zafar!” he screamed, a mixture of hysteria and anger coloring his words

Cyrus gasped as the meaning of those words sunk in.

“Kain,” the man proclaimed in shock.

Kain slugged him straight in the nose.

13. I was fairly young when I first asked my mom why she chose the Merriam for my name. She gave me a smile before pulling a tattered paperback dictionary from the living room shelf.

“I’ve always admired the Señores Merriam, mi hijo. Not for any of their actions or beliefs. To be honest, I've never much looked into their history but I admire them for creating a book full of meanings. One of the first books your abuela bought for me when I began my schooling here, was this dictionary,” she remarked wistfully. “We didn't have much money then so when she gave it to me, I was so excited.”

Mom gave a little laugh.

“It was my first book in the start of a grand collection but never mind all that, Merriam. You were asking about your name. I gave you the name Merriam because I wanted you to have an understanding of both your heart and mind.”

It was such a sweet story that at the time I was so proud of my name. I later grew to hold my name in my heart with an odd amount of awe and resentment. Being called “Dictionary Boy” does not always inspire positive feelings.

“Yo, Mary, whatcha thinkin’?”

I looked over to my friend, Bryce, in disdain. Besides the association with dictionaries, Merriam has more often been a girls’ name than a boys’, men only finding Merriam in their names as a surname.

“I told you never to call me that,” I hissed.

Bryce cackled obnoxiously. “Oops. I forgot, man.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” he affirmed with a smirk.

Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he put the unlit stick in his mouth and proceeded to take out a rubix cube without lighting the thing.

“If you’re going to put them in your mouth at least light them. Who are you? Augustus Waters?”

“Don’t make references to books you've never read, Mary,” Bryce muttered distractedly. “I’m trying to quit.”

“You’re trying to quit now, months after I’ve stopped lecturing you about the health risks posed by cigarettes,” I questioned skeptically.

“Yep. Better late than never.”

This came across as bizarre to me. Bryce was stubborn so I didn’t get why he had chosen to change his habits now. After a minute of me staring at him and him trying and failing to solve the rubix cube, he said something that made me almost topple down the stairs.

“Adrie’s pregnant.”

“Fuck.”

He looked up at me and shrugged.

“It’s not that bad. We’re in college so they can transfer to online courses before it gets to the point where they shouldn’t be straining themselves anymore.”

“You’re right, I suppose,” I agreed, still reeling.

Adrie was a pretty responsible person so it was kind of a shock that Bryce had managed to get them pregnant but then again, condoms did break.

“Would you like to be the godfather?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No. Adrie likes you.”

Adrie likes everyone.”

Bryce put the rubix cube down and extracted the cancer stick from his mouth.

“Surprisingly, no. Adrie smiles and talks to everyone but the two of us are their only friends. Well, I’m their boyfriend but you get the point.”

“Very touching but I think you could find a much better choice for a godfather.”

Bryce snorted. “We’ll see.”

Yeah, no.

14. The room was warm and smelt of singed turkey. I blinked blearily at my surroundings. Where was I? My apartment? No, much too clean. A friend’s? No, none of my friends could afford a turkey. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I also noted that much of the furniture was too expensive for my apartment or anyone else I know.

How did I get here? I looked around for a door before landing my eyes on the thing in question.

It was painted white with a gold peephole. The deadbolt was broken and the knobs were unlocked. I felt a deep seeded feeling of dread in my gut.

Did I break in here, I asked myself.

Most people don’t have to ask themselves these kinds of questions but I take some anxiety medication that causes some disinhibition and memory loss, and I am prone to making stupid decisions regardless of my state of awareness. What day was it?

The aroma of the turkey caused the date to click with me.

A scream of shocked terror had me holding my ears in pain.

“Who are you?” a feminine voice cried. “Why are you in my house?”

Then, like a dumbass, my chosen reply was a slurred:

“Happy Thanksgiving!”

15. The lazy sunlight crept into my apartment window, sharply hitting my eyes. I shift against my soft couch cushions, a warm weight melting into my side.

“Lee, you awake?”

He mumbled unintelligently but didn’t stir. I held him tighter in my arms. I never wanted this moment to end but like all beautiful moments that block out the horribleness of reality, it has to end.

My name is Jay, codename, Vitality and I am a hero. My boyfriend, Lee, is a villain named Lord Decay. We live in a society of people with metahuman abilities where few elect to utilize those abilities. The few that do mainly use their powers to help maintain our society or tear it down.

Lee wants to tear it down and rebuild it from scratch. He wants to change the world and he grew to believe the only way to inspire that change was to make people listen. The people don’t like being told to change. The people have too much pride in the society we created following the rise of powers.

People without powers are left isolated and degraded. People with stereotypically villainous powers are abused and treated like shit while those gifted with heroic-like powers are praised and treated like gods.

Our society needs to change but the way Lee has chosen to go about bringing that change is wrong.

One time I asked him why he didn’t go to school to become a hero, to prove society wrong. To prove people with villainous powers can be heroes too. That powers don’t make the person, the person makes the powers.

“No place would accept me,” he said. “When my powers activated… I… I was playing with my cars and they began to turn to dust… Everything my hands touched turned to dust. I started screaming and my mom came in with a worried expression

“She fell to her knees and told me to calm down but I couldn't…”

Tears pooled in his eyes and his voice began to choke out every word.

“She pulled me into a hug and then she started screaming and pushed me away… On her back where my hands had been. God, there was so much blood, Jay and I couldn’t call for help. The phone fell apart in my hands. She was already dead by the time my dad got home,

“He sent me away. He couldn’t handle knowing his own five-year-old son had killed his wife.”

Lee stared down at his hands.

“I still can’t control my powers. At any time I could accidentally destroy this bus. I could hurt you… I could hurt you. Who would want someone like me to be a hero?”

“I would,” I whispered.

His smile looked like fractured glass.

“It might be too late for me to be a hero now.

16.Sometimes the drifting apart of a friendship is gradual. Sometimes it’s quick. For Jane and Mels’ friendship, Jane felt like she was pulling a loose thread tighter only to feel tears of frustration prickle at the corners of her eyes as she saw the thread loosen again, occasionally losing more stitches. She was stuck looking on because somewhere along the way she had lost the needle in the sands of Kronos’ beach.

“Hey, Jane,” Mels said as she sat down. “How are you?”

“Great. How was your morning?" Jane replied, trying to focus on the conversation.

It was so hard to focus these days. Mels’ reply was negative but Jane couldn’t register the contents and everything sounded thick like her head was underwater. Jane murmured vaguely while Mels turned on her phone, scrolling through her messages.

The silence was stifling for Jane but she didn’t know what to say. Should she ask after her sister? Who her latest crush is on? A school thing?

“Finals are coming soon,” she settled on. “Which are you dreading?”

Mels glanced up from her phone, distaste clear on her face.

“Jay, don’t get me started on finals. You know I’m not prepared for any of them.”

Personally, Jane felt Melane was exaggerating but she did not interrupt her friend’s tirade.

“I guess chemistry,” Mels concluded after several minutes of listing why she thought each final was going to be difficult. Jane nodded, not sure what to say. The bell rang for class. Jane did not see Melane again until the next morning.

17. Joseph had been Chase’s roommate since their freshman year of college. After three years he couldn’t really call them friends but they were closer than mere acquaintances. Chase was not the kind of guy that was easy to get to know. He was a stubborn, rude, asshole but Joseph liked him okay. He had a low tolerance for bullshit and messing around which was basically all Joseph liked to do. They balanced each other out that way.

Joseph liked to think the reason Chase had such a low tolerance for bullshit was that he liked to shove his own behind a counter and never speak about it. That was probably kind of unhealthy but he was no therapist so he just shrugged his shoulders like “what can you do”. Today was one of those days where Joseph actually got to see some of basket case’s bullshit and found himself stumped.

“I’m not going to be here tonight. I’m going to help my dad check my mom out of the hospital.”

Joseph spit out his drink and looked up from his show.

“Your mom was in the hospital! Since when?”

Chase grimaced, probably more at the idea of touching the sticky soda that had been sprayed from Joseph’s mouth than the question.

“Six months ago.”

Joseph felt sick. Did Chase say something about this while he wasn’t paying attention?

“What happened? Coma? Cancer?”

Chase got a peculiar expression on his face like he was debating on whether to answer the question or smack his roommate for being insensitive.

“She had a mental breakdown.”

“Holy fuck.”

18. Matt heard crying from through the baby monitor. It’s too early for this, he thought in despair as the fog of sleep seeped out of him.

“Janielle, could you―” he mumbled, frowning as his arm hit the cold sheets beside him.

Had she already started to make her way to the twins’ room? He sat up slowly, blanket slipping off his shoulders causing him to shiver in the frigid morning air. He scratched his fluffy brown hair scanning the room. The crying persisted. Maybe both the twins were up. He should go―

There was a note on Janielle’s pillow. She probably had to go to work early, he thought, grabbing the note, making his way down to the nursery. Halfway down the hall, he froze.

Matt,

I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. I wasn’t even sure I could handle being a mom of one but of twins, I just can’t. And Matt, you’re sweet but before we found out I was pregnant, I was going to break up with you. You’re a great guy but you’re just not the great guy for me. I’ll send money for Bernice and Aaron when I can. I love them and you dearly but I am afraid I can’t be there for you three.

Love,

Janielle

Matt felt numb. He robotically went up to one of the cribs and picked up Bernice. Aaron, miraculously, had not woken up.

“What’s wrong, Burn-Burn,” he whispered feeling like he was choking on every word. “I-is it Mommy? Did you see her leave?”

Bernice continued to wail. Matt sank to the floor, cradling his daughter close.

“I’m sorry. Daddy’s so sorry Burn-Burn,” he croaked.

He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what he was going to do.

He was alone.

19. I sat down at a table, a trusty trash can by my side. My sharp blades glittered smartly as I swiftly cut ovals and triangles into a dead tree sheet in the shape of a circle folded multiple times like a two-dimensional cone. I unfolded it. Snowflake decoration twenty-five complete and ready for hanging.

“Hey, Clarence. Nice snowflakes.”

I paused in my work and looked awkwardly up at who had spoken.

“Um… Why thank you, Karen. Well, um… how are you doing?” I floundered.

“Great,” she beamed. “What are you doing for Christmas?”

“Nothing really,” I muttered looking at her shoulder.

I could literally hear her smile grow.

“Fantastic. I'm having a holiday Christmas party for everyone at work at my house on Christmas Eve. Would you like to come?”

I didn't want to go.

“Yes.”

She clapped excitedly.

“Sweet. Do you need my address?”

“No. I still have it on my phone. How many people are coming so far?”

Karen looked downcast.

“Well, only you and I so far,” she perked up. “But I'm sure lots of others are going to come too.”

Well, there goes my chance of skipping out.

“See you at the party, Karen.”

“See you there, Clarence,” she winked at me.

20. I live with Father and Mother in my dreams, although they are not my mother and father, those are simply their names. They are married but they are not in love.

Father once told me that Aunt and Uncle decided that he and Mother should be joined together in holy matrimony forever. However, Father when narrating these events to me always pronounces the forever as foe-ever. I can understand why Father might view Mother as an enemy. They are completely opposite forces of nature, after all.

Mother is small, poised, and incredibly neat. She wears her white hair straight down, not a single hair out of place. She dresses in a wedding gown so clean and refined, lacking the creases made by clothes on a body that it is as if she is not wearing the dress at all. She is often quiet and seldom speaks. When she does her voice is clipped, cold, and cruel like the breaking off a glass.

Father has messy black hair and wears a rumpled burgundy suit. He is loud and very kind.

Mother rules the house. She keeps the house so spotless it is devoid of life. It is wretched but I enjoy living with them when I sleep.

“Ernest,” Mother calls. “When are you going to come find us? Father and I grow tired of waiting for you.”

Father laughed. “The only thing we can agree on. When are you coming, Nestling?”

I blinked. “I don't know where the house is.”

“Do not,” Mother corrects flatly as if she cannot even summon annoyance to respond to my stupidity.

Father rolls his eyes at her and grabs my hand.

“Well then, sweet Nestling, I'll simply have to fetch you. Where do you find yourself now?”

Smiling widely, I whisper, “Broomstock’s orphanage in Miller’s Hollow.”

Father frowns and hums vaguely.

“That's so far Nestling, amusement peppering his voice. “But Mother and I will make the journey to retrieve you.”

Mother leaned forward and muttered, “Be grateful, boy. If it were up to me, we'd leave you there and simply wait for your lazy bum to make its way to us.”

“Oh, hush, Mother,” Father laughed. “She likes you. She would have grown very impatient and ran ramped to find you if it was up to her.”

I smiled. How lovely, my friends wished to come to whisk me away. Too bad they were only the products of a child’s fancies.

“I look forward to your arrival, Father, Mother.”

“See you soon,” Father cried.

“Farewell,” Mother muttered grudgingly.

I open my eyes to the wooden beams of the ceiling, cold seeping into my bones. If only they would come.

Regular prompts are also still open. I'll try to get a poem out tomorrow but no promises.

#autumn writes #personal list #do not use #fiction #writing #coffee #need sleep

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bonniebloome-blog · 5 years

Text

Scavengers

It was dry, and the sun was stealing her breath.

She would never ride a bike, and had never got her driver's license. She managed to make do on scooters, and quad bikes, and sometimes (it was very rare, rarer then water and rarer then cigarettes) even skateboards.

Riding a push bike was risky, the last time she had properly ridden one was when she was nine, her younger brother's Ben Ten bike.

It was late, the sun still hot creeping beneath the horizon. She almost cried, almost shed nonexistent tears, when she saw the service station.

The war had been good to her, but never like this. Never just giving her something that good, it was almost a gift.

She knew already that it was most likely empty, infested with zombies, and would probably get her killed.

She lived for death, for the sweet release she hoped awaited her. God forbid she die when she actually wants. No, let her live through a whole goddamn war, then the aftermath, and not once get the thing she wanted most.

She snickered, pulling her cap further down on her head, walking over to the bland Seven-Eleven.

She had left the bike long ago, both tiers busted and more likely to kill her if she got caught by zombies. She may as well just run, it would give her more chance to live.

She hated living, even in makeshift death.

When she tried the handle, she checked the knives in her belt. The windows and doors where covered in newspapers, but she had been in this world long enough to know how to get into the backways, to know where the backways were.

When she managed to open it, her breath was pushing against her lips, the dirty yellow bandana sticking against her face.

The door squeaked, and the noise made her flinch. Other lifetimes, lifelines, and lifestyles should haved prepared her. Should have hardened her skin, and strengthened her will to live.

But her mother's violence, and her father's ticking timebomb anger had never done anything but cause her to jump. To shake. To want them to shut up.

She cracked the door open, and was faced with a gun. She smiled, crooked with a tooth poking out from her top lip.

Rookie move.

She slowly raised her hands and placed her them on the back of her head, not getting a good look at the face, only enough features to piece together that the person was male.

But she was alright. The hands holding the gun were shaking, and the boy (it could only ever be a boy, not a man, stupid enough to think he could use a gun) was breathing heavier then what one would think possible.

He sounded like he was having a panic attack.

"Okay, okay. I'm chill, now put your gun down. Don't wanna alert the zombies, now do we?" The gun lowered slightly but she didn't remove her hands from her head.

She knew better then to trust strangers.

They stayed like that for perhaps ten minutes, her arms aching and her breath getting warmer and warmer. She was sweating in the January night heat.

A voice, low and toneless, called out from behind the boy. She didn't catch a thing they had said, but from the shuffling, and the person moving back away from the door, this could be dinner and someplace to sleep tonight.

After more shuffling, and a gun pushing between her shoulder blades to move through the shop, she (not used to the deep darkness, for the goggles she wore blocked out the sun) made out the outline of a slushie machine.

"Turn around, and sit on your ass. We have some talkin' to do." The voice, low and toneless, was now slightly feminine. It was funny, she supposed. It reminded her of a girl she used to know.

The lights, candles, and solar-powered lanterns were covering shelves and the ground around her. She turned around, and sat promptly on her bum, not looking up or letting her hands rest in her lap.

They could easily just shoot her if she did so, could put it down as her being defiant. Not following the orders that were given to her.

"Look at us, and tell us why you are here." When she looked up she giggled, staring into the light while smiling from behind the clothe.

"Honestly, Beckett. Don't you know all the scavengers go to the servo's?" She smiled at the group of faces, the one in front paling, a face she hadn't seen for six years.

"Who are you? T-take your mask and hat off!" She took her hands off her head, finally, and started to remove everything. First, she removed her cap, a dirty and frayed black hat that once belonged to her father.

She ran her hand over her buzzcut, laying the hat beside her legs. She didn't break eye-contact with Beckett, smiling still as she pulled the black-out goggles off her head, placking that beside her also.

She smiled, his eyes widening all the more when she finally removed her bandana, a smirk changing her face ugly.

"What," she taunted, leaning back against the machine. Both Beckett and the boy and girl behind him were frozen, the girl shaking slightly, "you don't recognise me?" Beckett trembled slightly, raising a hand to his mouth.

"M-Malorie? Malorie Rogers?" Malorie, because that was in fact her title, scoffed at Beckett. She hadn't heard that name in so long, she forgot it sometimes.

"As if you would forget, we were great friends back in the day. Hi, Beth and Freddie. It's been a while, huh?" Malorie scratched the back of her head, watching Beth and Beckett glance over at each other, Freddie shaking his head as he walked away.

"What are you doing here? In the outskirts of the city?" Mallory giggled, pulling off her worker jacket and placing it in her lap.

"I could ask you guys the same. It's a long way from the country." Beth came forward, sitting down in front of her. She brought her gauze-wrapped hands to her hair, bushy and knotted and filled with leaves.

"You've changed, May. You've changed a whole lot." Rolling her eyes, Malorie played with her ear, staring at Beth with all the unsaid words glazing her eyes.

"And you guys haven't changed a speck," she spat, smiling all cruel and thin, leaning forward to catch Beth's eyes.

Beckett shuddered, walking away from Beth and Malorie, perhaps to go talk with Freddie.

Beth and Malorie always had been friends, back when they still talked. They never had been close, had they?

"Why are you here? This is a dangerous city, isn't the country the best place to hide when things like this happen?" Beth hiccups, sitting on her bum also. Malorie had always thought Beth was the smartest.

"We got lost. There was meant to be shelter in the heart. There was none..." Malorie rolls are eyes and clenches her teeth. She hates people, and the devastation supplied her with some alone time.

"Honestly, I am surprised you're still alive. You weren't the smartest." Malorie scoffed, pulling her shoulders back as her face reddened. Beth was right, though. Getting nine out of fifty on a test isn't very impressive.

"Well, do you have anything I could nibble on? I have a few knives I can trade you." Beth rolled her eyes and got up, Malorie following, limping slightly from old aches after picking up her stuff.

She pulled her jacket on, and her cap afterwards. She pulled her goggles over her head to wrest around the next, tying her bandana below the goggles also.

"So, May. What happened to your hair?" Beth slouched, trudging forward in boots that looked too big, and a waterproof pancho covering a long sleeved shirt.

It was best to be covered at all times, incase of a run in with a zombie.

"I never was the kept type, do you know how hard it is to be clean and beautiful during an apocalypse?" She stared at her converse clad shoes, pulling her jeans to rest more highly on her hips.

Beth laughed, sounding more dead then Malorie felt.

They walked to the counter, windows and door blacked out with paint. Beth knocked and waited, seconds flowing into minutes. No sound came from within the booth, and Malorie wondered if they had managed to soundproof it.

Freddie ended up unlocking the door, standing tall and thin and exactly the same as Malorie

remembered.

"We're keeping her for a bit, for old times sake." Suddenly he was gone, and Beckett was standing where Freddie once stood. He didn't look happy, and was staring Malorie down.

"Oh yeah? And how are we sure she hasn't been infected? Or that she won't go nuts and kill us in our sleep?" Beckett sneered at her now, and Malorie stared into his ice cold eyes, a red painting along her face.

"Look into my eyes, Beckett," they stared at each other, Beth breathing heavily, Freddie watching as he sat more into the booth.

"Do you honesly think I'm lying?" Beckett bit into his thumb for a split second, shaking his head hesitantly.

Malorie snickered, cockiness written in her eyes and on the seam of her lips.

Beckett humorously laughed, moving out of the doorway to let the two girls in. The booth was smaller then they could all sit comfortably in, all average hight, but Mallory being the shortest.

When they had all sat down, Freddie's knees overlapping with Beth's and Beckett's knees, Beth grabbed a little black bag and took out two packets of chips.

They were sitting in awkward chatter, Malorie eating as if she had been here with them since the start, while the group all had downcast eyes. Except for Beckett, he glared Malorie as sharp and hard as he pleased.

Suddenly Malorie sat up high, brushing crumbs off her hands and face, wiping at the corner of her lips with a grin.

"Do they still have the cigarettes here?" The minimal talking stopped, and everyone froze with food halfway up to their mouths. Malorie realised she must have said something wrong, but couldn't figure out what.

"Yeah, behind Beckett..." Malorie smiled at Beth, standing up and checking the built in cabinet. True to Beth's word, it was almost full.

It was when she was going to sit back down, that everyone started back up again.

She was pulling a lighter out of a jacket pocket, feeling slightly uneasy when she made eye-contact with Beckett, who had stopped talking, and moved to ask Malorie a quiet strange question.

"So, what? You're smoking now?" Malorie lit her smoke, taking in a drag, and took it away from her mouth, she was trying desperately to not gag on the smoke and cough. Malorie sat forward and giggled.

Perhaps it was too long of a laugh, or they didn't understand the joke. Beckett pushed her roughly, anger written over his face.

That caused her to laugh harder.

"I told you she was a nutter!" They were trying to shush her, and she dropped her cigarette she was laughing that hard.

She hadn't had a cigarette in two years.

It got so bad that Beth grapped her smoke and dropped it in a puddle of water, slapping Malorie across the face, knocking her hat off.

She tried to stop her giggles, she really did. Malorie leaned back against the wall, not bothering to pick her cap back up.

"It's been a while, I think I'm getting the spin of the head." Malorie snorted then, shaking and trembling while her eyes watered.

She hadn't laughed this hard in years.

"How can you be laughing, at a time like this? With your family dead?" Malorie didn't stop laughing for another minute after that, little giggles leaving her lips when she tried to pull a straight face.

"W-well, I didn't care," oh she had cared, alright, "I didn't love my family, I was detached from them. I would have killed them, if I had the chance."

She did love them, had loved them. She had cried and screamed, dragging all the members of her family that had been infected (which were all) into the basement, setting the house on fire after grabbing everything she could.

Pictures, presents, people.

All left to burn, all she wish she could have brought with her. Baggage to heavy for a seventeen year-old's shoulders. In her own, sometimes detached way, Malorie had loved them as much as possible for her.

Looking up and lighting a new smoke, Malorie smiled at Beckett, knowing he didn't like her answer. He tried to hold in a cough, and Malorie remembered Beth had asthma.

Beth, Freddie and Beckett didn't look her way, or talk to her again that night. There was barely enough room for three to lay, a person always on watch in the main part of the service station.

They didn't let Malorie go on watch, not trusting her enough. She had slept like a baby, dreaming of school classes and boring lessons.

Those were her favorite dreams.

#writing #zombies apocalypse #zombies #apocalypse

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samanthasroberts · 6 years

Text

I Hid My Antidepressants From My Lover Because I Felt Ashamed

It was early February 2012, but it felt like mid-f*cking-July. I wasa displaced New Yorker in Florida, where the air felt suffocatingly thick and densely humid.

I had just moved to Florida from London for a job. It was supposed to be a temporary, fleeting move, but I had fallen in love (love always ruins your plans, doesn’t it?) with a bartender named Luna.*

The moment I laid eyes on Luna, I was addicted to our intense chemistry.Luna just had that energy,that palpable fun-loving charismathat made everyone around her feel good.Especially me.

So she was the reason I found myself NOT in the wonderfully chic city of London, but at a bro beach tiki bar in the middle of winter.

Imagine a spindly 25-year-old Wednesday Addams (black braids and all) hanging out in a bikini on a powdery talcum beach amidst a crew of deeply tanned, ankle-tattooed girls with frosted highlights in their shiny waist-length hair and warm beers nestled between their olive-skinned fingers.I was sorely out of context.

I really clashed with an impossibly LOUD entity named Phoebe.*

She was the kind of girl who spoke louder than everyone else and was, more often thannot, in the thick of a total and complete whiskey blackout. She constantly interrupted you and blew cigarette smoke in your face. She sucked the air out of a room.

It’s rare I ever say this, but Phoebe was just too much. And my best friends are drag queens and wild, sexually deviant eccentrics, so that’s saying a lot.

In her usual drunken haphazard state, Phoebe pulled a bottle of antidepressants out of her canvas backpack and slurred “F*ckkkkk theeeeeese pills. I don’t even TAKE THEM!” at the top of her lungs for no necessary reason.

“Oh girl, don’t be ashamed. I take Lexapro,” I blurted out, totally forgetting that I hadn’t yet told my new girlfriend that I took antidepressants.

I almost got away unscathed. It was easy to go unnoticed around Phoebe. But unfortunately for me, Luna’s best friend Maria* had overheard me.

“WHAT, ZARA, YOU TAKE LEXAPRO? LUNA, ZARA TAKES ANTIDEPRESSANTS!” Maria shouted, breathing beer into my face.

I went into immediate fight-or-flight, electric shock mode: “NO, I was totally kidding!” I lied, straight through my newly whitened teeth.

“Thank God!” Luna sighed. “I hate antidepressants. They turn you into a f*cking zombie. I don’t want to date a zombie.”

Then, everyone beganfiring out anti-antidepressant rants at the speed of rapid fire.

“Yeah, this country is waaaay over medicated!”

“Yeah f*ck antidepressants, they’re the worst.”

“Oh yeah I could never date someone who chose taking pills over confronting the pain…”

And I stood there, feeling self-consciously pale, clutching my hot pink Rebecca Minkoff purse laughing along, nodding my head in vehement solidarity and stone-cold agreement with Luna and her friends about how “antidepressants are BAD and ruining America.”

Meanwhile, resting in the small zipper part of my little pink purse were20 mgs of the little blue pill I had been taking for the last seven months, that I’m pretty sure had saved my life.

But I got it. See, I had been one of those peoplein the past, who scoffed at the prospect of medication, thinking all I had to do was strap on my black combat boots and put on a brave face and get the f*ck over it. I’m British; we like to suffer. We are the very face of the “stiff upper lip” movement.

However, I had recently been hit with a bout of depression so black I couldn’t see my way out of the pain. It was the kind of depression that’s so severe, simple acts like brushing your teeth or combing your hair feel taxing.

I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t want to be alive. Things got so dark in my head that I no longer felt like I was in a safe place.

Finally, a family friend got worried about me and took me to her doctor.I got prescribed a low dosage of Lexapro, and after about two weeks, I could finally muster up the energy to get out of bed.

Lexapro wasn’t a miracle drug that fixed all of myproblems, but it gave me the strength to start going to therapy and confrontthe slew of painful memories I had spent the past decade suppressing.

In that time in my life, I needed the help of medication. It was life or death.

But in that moment with Luna, I felt ashamed. I felt like a f*cked up loser who wasn’t strong enough to deal with life. And when I feel ashamed, I start to lie. Humiliation and embarrassment have the ability to silence me like nothing else.

For the next several months,I hid my pills from Luna. I kept them in a delicate daisy-decorated sponge makeup bag, the kind of contraption that respectable nice girls would probably use to store their tampons. (I’ve always been the girl who recklessly tosses her tampons into her bag.)

I so badly wanted to fit the image of what Luna wanted, and needing medication wasn’t part of that image. Luna wanted fun-loving Zara. Fashion-crazed Zara. Unafraid-to-tell-anyone-off Zara.

Who wants to be with the Zara who suffers from depression and anxiety so severely that sometimes she’s scared of her own thoughts?No one wants to be with that Zara. And all I wanted was to be the girl that Luna wanted to be with..

Finally, it all came crashing down. I grew sick and tired of keeping a huge part of my life hidden from Luna. I loved her and craved her support. I wanted to tell her what I had been through and what I was going through.

So one day, it spilled out of me. I told her everything. The shame. The trauma. Why I had lied to her for the better part of a year.

“Luna, I can’t hide this anymore, but I’ve been battling depression and taking antidepressants. I know you’re super against antidepressants, but I need your support. I’ve been lying to you and hiding my medication from you.”

We were in the car on our way to the airport. We were taking our first couple’s vacation to Brazil (excellent timing for a heavy conversation, I know. My bad.). I gazed out the window and stared at the palm trees lining the streets. I braced myself for a judgmental lecture or massive argument because I had, after all, committed the worst relationship sin of all (especially for lesbians), Ilied.

Much to my surprise, my confession didn’t end in a screaming match. She felt instantly terrible thatthedrunken comments from her friends almost a year ago had made me feel soinsecure. She didn’t judge me like I had feared. In fact, my confession made her love me more.

And it taught me one of the most life-changing lessons I’ve learned in my adult life: People don’t really fall in love with the perfectly curated version of you. They might admire the filtered, air-brushed version of you. But it’s not love.

I’m areal person, not just an idea of a person.

People are only going to fall in true love with thewhole you. The you whohas nightmares, and awkward birthmarks, and a loaded past, and strange phobias. I’ve found the things I’ve been the most ashamed of are the very things my partners have fallen in love with me for.

So sweet kittens, don’t be shamed into silence. Don’t water your eccentricities down because you’re afraid of being “too much.”

And if peopletry to shame you for needing to take medication, or your weird family, or the funky scar on your body, f*ck them. Who needs false love when you could have real love?

Find the person who loves all of you, blue pills and all.

*Name has been changed