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lovely-necromancy · 3 years

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A Cure for Insomnia Ch 13

Waking up late was so not the plan for today.

What was supposed to be a nice lovely day is slowly turning into your personal hell. Racing around the kitchen trying to keep an eye on your potatoes as you cut up the other veggies for the pie. So you can shove it into the oven then get ready.

Christ why hadn't you thought to prep your ingredients earlier?

Thankfully the cobbler was super simple tossing the sugar and flour into the bowl followed by the a cup of lemonade. Perfect cobbler base. After the batter was creamy you threw in the freshly washed blackberries. They bled a deep red into the batter around them. You had high hopes as you topped it with butter and threw it into the oven.

Both dishes had very quick bake times so you weren't too worried or stressed about them taking forever. In all honesty the only reason you were frantically running around your kitchen was prepping the inside of the forager's pie. And giving the mashed potatoes an essence of rosemary and garlic as if you were a chef on par with Gordon Ramsey.

Should you do dishes?

No, there's no time to worry about that.

Soon the cobbler is out of the oven and you have replaced it with the two pans of forager's pie. You don't give the cobbler any time to cool as you place the aluminum lid to the pan so the heat stays.

With that taken care of you speed off to your room and grab your outfit. The mini pencil skirt you'd purchased yesterday paired with some shorts so you didn't have to be careful with your movements all day. A plain block colored shirt in a cute primary palette. Finishing with yellow converses.

Changing doesn't take long but you do take some extra time on your hair choosing to style it a bit different today. As you're debating on if you should put the time into a fun makeup look your neck snaps harshly to the right.

There is no crack but it did hurt like hell.

As if that had been a sign from God you opt for your normal look. There will be other events and times for you to do fun looks, but not today.

The oven beeps as the timer goes off letting you know the pies are ready. Just a sprinkle of cheese on top before you cover them with the lid and you are all set to go.

Checking the time you see it's nine-o-two, and while the picnic was scheduled for ten thirty you are a committee member and should be there early to help set up. So without anymore hesitation you are flying out of the house and into your car.

You rush back from placing the food in the backseat to make sure your door is locked.

It is and you are free to enjoy the day...you hope.

Speeding would be the biggest understatement of the year. You were practically at the lodge in fifteen minutes and bustling up to the door. Opening it you rush in ignoring anyone you pass by in your mad dash to the kitchen.

“Hello to you too.” Barclays voice carries from the stove as you whisk past him to place two of your pans on the counter.

“Hi, Tim?” you say out of breath from your one person marathon. Practically vibrating in place unwilling to loose your momentum despite your need for a second wind.

Barclay just points to the den and you're out of the kitchen just as fast as you had entered. Most patrons in the den don't spare you a second glance used to your whirlwind mannerisms when your trying to follow a deadline. As self appointed as it may be.

There is one trio however giving you a mix of concerned and amused looks. Which quickly turn into concerned and interest when you make a bee line straight for them.

“Hi,” you say to Toby and Brian before looking at Tim and pushing the cobbler at him, “Thanks again for last night.”

Tim can't even get a word out because as soon as he grabs the pan you're already back off to the kitchen. Determined to help Barclay with something before everyone starts moving to the Archway. You hear the chorus of chuckles coming from everyone as you leave a confused Tim, who now has to answer to the questioning glances of his friends, in your wake.

Barclay needed no help as you guessed but he was however open to you covering the food and stacking certain items together before helping to load everything into crates for easier transport. It wasn't long before the others start to make their way into the kitchen to get briefed on the plan.

You notice the trio being motioned in by Jake who holds the door open for them to make their way in too. Brian politely takes the door from Jake as Tim steps in place in front of him and Toby. The jerky movements of Toby's eyes as he scans the room is really hard to ignore. But it doesn't seem like he's looking for anything just taking note of who is in the kitchen and where they are.

“Ok, first thank you all for helping set up the picnic today. I really appreciate it.” Barclay's baritone voice says jostling you out of your thoughts to focus in on him.

“Second, we really don't have much to do for set up since most guests already have their baskets with them. We do have a few spares to lay down though. We'll be splitting off into three teams.” Barclay then points at you, Hollis, Jake, and Kirby.

“Team A is in charge of setting up the spare baskets.”

After getting your group's approval he continues down the line.

Team B consists of Brian, Tim, Toby, and Indrid. Their group is to bring out and set the tables that'll hold the food. Team C is Barclay, Aubrey, Dani, and Madeline. Team C will bring the main courses along with the heaters to keep everything warm.

With teams set and in place you all take to your positions and get a move on before the public arrives. You vaguely wonder why the Hornets aren't here yet but remember most had decorated and cleared out the Archway over the past couple of days. Pushing the thoughts away you grab two baskets and follow after your team. Thankfully there were only a few left over baskets, eight if you include Jake and Hollis' and then your own. Each member of your team carried two baskets through the thicket of trees until you reached the clearing of the archway.

It looked amazing, you'd only been out here one other time back when Bambi was still around. She took you out at night and the two of you just talked about anything and everything, including theories about the giant archway that towered over the clearing and just how it may have come to be. Back then it had been a field of long grass and purple wildflowers. The grass was so thick the two of you used sticks to move it and insure there'd be no snakes harmed in your late night hike. Now though the grass had been cut save for aesthetically calculated patches of wildflowers and clovers here and there. The field was absolutely perfect for the event, and with the gorgeous blue skies partially clouded the scenery really seemed to pop out.

Especially the small lake glittering just past the archway. You'd never noticed it before but then again you came here in the dead of night.

Getting back to work you set out on placing the spare baskets a reasonable distance from the others. Close enough to other blankets to feel included but far enough away to have their own space if that was their thing. When you had finished you take your own basket and join Hollis and Jake who finished placing their four baskets down faster with two people. They'd been setting up their own blanket on the outer rim of the perimeter, closer to the treeline than to the Archway. As if they were going to overlook the even and keep an eye out. Which they probably would be, just to ensure that everyone had fun and stayed safe.

Seeing you standing just a few feet away from the blanket Jake gives you his patented superstar smile.

“C'mon, join the party YN.”

With the easy going invitation you fix your blanket beside theirs. This way at one point or another you'd see a majority of your friends today as you knew for a fact they'd come over or be dragged over into seeing the couple beside you.

Kirby joins you three after lazily placing his baskets side by side closer to the archway. With the hustle and fuss of your prep work being done you can take a moment to take everything in.

“I love the shirt.” you say looking at Kirby's 'I'm not Allo but 20$ is 20$' shirt.

He gives a grin before presenting a folded up shirt out of his messenger bag.

“Thought you might...don't wear it now though. Don't want you copying my style, that'd be sad.” he jokes.

“Pfft, please everyone would know it's you who copied me.”

Jake and Hollis watch as the two of you continue your playful banter. Occasionally voicing whose side they were on, Hollis took Kirby's while Jake took yours. It was a fun way to pass the time as the other groups finished setting up.

Especially since you had Mr. Cool Guy himself on your side. How could you possibly not be the trend setter sibling with his vote.

Before long the other groups were also setting up their own baskets, which had been brought out by Barclay and Indrid a few hours earlier. And some Hornets started showing up not too long after that. Either rushing around trying to set up their baskets or sit down with friends after placing their food away. Though the event hadn't really started yet you could hear Aubrey starting up her music a few blankets away. She'd already gathered a small crowd that was chittering away.

Taking it all in you notice a certain trio looking incredibly awkward and out of place. You get up and make your way over to the men ready to invite them to sit with you. After all it's an eight person blanket it'd be a shame to sit all by yourself next to another full blanket.

Toby's dark eyes lock on to you first, you really suspect this boy has ADHD with his quick reflexes and spacial hyper awareness. He actually seems to deflate a bit, like the tension in his shoulders started to disappear the closer you got. You apparently weren't the only one to notice the subtle change in the brunette as Tim focused in on Toby. Meanwhile Brian clocked you just before you were within ten feet of their little group.

“Hey I have an empty blanket if you guys wanted to join.”

Just getting straight to the point was your thing. Most see your bluntness as rudeness but you just don't see a point in dancing around your message.

“Yea, that'd be nice.” Toby spoke before the other two could.

Smiling at him you hold a hand out for him to grab. You aren't really sure what possessed you to do that, but figure you must be in a rare tactile mood. Unlike when you're touched if you initiate the contact it doesn't hurt or squick you out. He grabs your hand and you can feel the scratch of his callouses. You remember Hollis said something about him being a mechanic, that would explain the tough hands.

You lead the trio over to your blanket where only Kirby sits, seems like didn't bring his basket and was going to share with you. Not that you mind at all, in fact this was the perfect time to introduce one friend to another.

“Kirby time to make a good impression.” you call out gaining his attention.

He takes a moment before taking note of the group you're guiding over. Kirby stands up to greet you all.

“Kirby this is my friend Tobias, and his roommates Tim and Brian.” you motion to the other two with your unoccupied hand.

Noticing for the first time that they have their hands interlocked. Not holding like you and Toby are but a more intimate hand hold.

'These bitches gay...good for them. Good for them.' is just playing on repeat as background noise in your head. Ignoring the loop in your brain you continue the introduction.

“This is Kirby, my brother or whatever.” Kirby snorts at your short introduction.

“I'll take it, 's a step up from gremlin.” he turns to the trio hand extended, “Nice to meet you guys.”

After the weird neurotypical ritual is over the five of you sit down and talk while you wait for the festivities to begin. Tim and Kirby dragging Brian along for the deep dive of god awful horror movies.

“You didn't mention a brother.” Toby says fiddling with your hand, someone really needs to get this guy a fidget toy.

“Huh? Oh no. No, not like that Kirby's more like a brother than my biological brother.” you pause while thinking how to explain this more articulately.

“We're just really similar and people thought we were dating, I guess, before we started calling each other 'sibling'.” it's really weird that that was even an issue. At least to you but Allos tend to be weird about mixed gender relationships.

For instance Brian and Tim can get written off as the best of best friends. But you and Kirby decide to sit next to each other for one Saturday Night Dead and the town is already waiting for wedding invites. Maybe this is a small town thing...you'll still blame the Allos.

Toby nods along, whether he actually understands or is trying to move from the topic you can't quite tell. You look down at his hand that's bending your fingers into your palm. His nail beds look better than last week you hope it means he wasn't picking at his skin. It's really not a great coping mechanism.

You let out a small sigh as you get lost in the feeling of Toby playing with your fingers. You're trying to think of something to talk about but the motions are kind of drowning out your thoughts. You can see why this might've been helpful the for Toby last week in the forest.

“...We're friends?” you aren't really sure if that was a question or a statement.

“Yea! Well at least I'd like to be. It's fine if you don't want to though.”

Toby gives a small smile to that, and releases your hand. It seems his anxiety has gone away for the most part. Maybe having the reassurance of another friend is all he needed. Just a little more moral support to get him out of his shell.

You smile back at him as he leans back on his hands. It's nice that you both can enjoy the day without your masks, even if you do feel a bit naked without yours. You wonder how Toby's been holding up wearing only the bandage over his scar. But you know you probably aren't at the friendship level needed to question him about it. No matter how nonchalant he'd been about eating in front of you that first day.

“How're the repairs coming?”

Toby rolls his eyes and lets out a frustrated groan, and for a moment you're concerned you upset him.

“It's a fah-fah-cuck...king rust bucket. Like Jesus fucking Christ first the AC blows out so I check the compressor...” he pauses and squints his eyes at you, “do you know cars?”

“Dad's a mechanic so I know enough. But you're talking about an RV unit and not a regular cabin AC might get a little lost but I can at least lend an ear. Like a rubber duck.”

The right side of Toby's mouth pulls a confused sneer, but his attention is soon turned to Brian who's chuckling having heard what you said.

“'s a coding thing Toby.”

“Uh...okay?” Toby just resigns himself to not understanding this particular topic and continues on.

“Yea so sorta the same basis, I guess. The units still pull air from outside into the vents and use a refrigerant liquid to cool the air it pushes out.” he pauses to make sure you're still following.

After you nod he continues to explain how it runs so the fans and circuits seem to be in order. There isn't a leak in the coils and the liquid's been replenished but it still isn't running cold. You nod while giving him a patient smile as you let him tear through his rant about the “piece of shit unit” because it seems this has been building in him for the past few days. When he comes to the end of his rant the only thing you can really think to say is.

“That sounds rough.”

Not the most eloquent thing but Toby seems to come down from his vent high, after a few deep breaths.

“Yea it mrrow was. Well is.” he cuts his eyes back to the trio across from you noticing how they all seem invested in their own conversation now.

“Why'd you give Tim a cobbler?” looks like you two will be playing twenty questions today.

“He scared off the creep for me last night.” you shrug causing your neck to jerk to the side.

“'the' creep? Wait! The one that drugged you?” Toby is so lucky he can't feel pain because even you felt that crack that ripped through his neck as he whipped his head towards you.

And honestly you're kinda surprised it didn't draw anyone's attention to you two.

“First I don't think I was drugged, he might've just sent me into a panic attack.”

“Oh sorry the creep that sent you into a panic attack.” you really hate when people interrupt you like that he's really lucky you understand he's actually just paying attention to you rather than talking over you. You'd punch him if it wasn't the case. Punch him right in his cute snarky face.

“Bitch.” You do punch him, in his arm, he lets out a monotone 'ow'. You decide against punching him again for that, it was a hard choice though.

“Anyway, second yea same one. I just really don't like the guy and last night he'd been bothering Ronnie when I stopped by the gas station. She'd apparently forgotten Tim had gone on break and when I tried bluffing that he was there well...”

You took some time to explain the situation last night to Toby. Leaving out the parts where Not Tim showed up. After thinking on that you figure there was a possibility of Tim having an alter that he may or may not know about. And you aren't sure what the etiquette is for this sort of thing, like if Tim did know were you suppose to let him tell you or should you let him know you'd technically met his alter. Judging from Toby's face, the guy really wears his heart on his sleeve, he seems confused about something.

Maybe Tim didn't remember last night and Toby was asking for him. That does put a bit more weight on your alter theory. And it seems to have more traction as something seems to click in Toby's head. He doesn't share whatever is making him nod. So you leave it be.

Before you know it an hour has past the field nearly full of town residents and Barclay, with his mighty megaphone, start calling people over for food so you all grab a plate from the basket.

“I want purple.” Kirby tells you.

“I could literally hand you any of these and you'd tell me 'thanks'.”

“That's pretty fucking ablest YN.”

You pause and look at the other three on the blanket.

“Is being colorblind a disability?”

A “Yes” from Brian followed by Tim and Toby's deadpan expressions and “No”s.

“Three against two, not ablest just honest...this is purple.” you had half a mind to hand him indigo.

Your group goes and gets food, debating the legitimacy of colorblindness being a disability, before heading back to your blanket. No sooner had you sat down are you body slammed into the ground. The familiar weight of an overexcited eleven year old smothering you.

“Hi can I sit with you?” before you can reply the rest of the Cowell family finds their way over.

“Josephine Cowell, I'm so sorry YN she's just been so excited all weekend. Josephine get off of YN you know they aren't very tactile.” Dia called.

Unlike her husband's hulking form Dia was a petite frail woman, you honestly wouldn't be surprised if Jo towered over her mother in a few years. And though she was small she had a fierceness to her that normally kept both the Jos in line.

“It's not a problem Dia. Jo I think you should eat with your parents first, we have all day to hang out.” Her eyes seem to sparkle with excitement and you can see her mother's apologetic expression just past her.

Understandably Dia is concerned with Jo taking up your personal time. The young girl sees you as an older sibling and wants to spend any second she can with you, but you aren't family. You're a young adult who has their own life to live. The last thing you need is to be babysitting the tween while you tried to relax with your friends today. Dia would do her best to have Jo give you some space.

“Hey you guys can just drop your blanket over here, we don't mind.” Janette, local mean lesbian, calls from Hollis and Jake's blanket.

Jo looks ecstatic at the thought and rushes to her father to pull him over to the area so they can place the blanket down. Booping her nose occasionally in her excitement.

“Hey Dia, Marnie's coming in an hour or so, soccer game got rescheduled. Jo will have someone her age to bug.”

“Marnie's coming?” leave it to a tween to finish setting up and get a plate of food all in under five minutes.

She's not even trying to be on her family's blanket as she plops down next to you. Taking notice of you staring she gives a wide grin practically buzzing with excitement. A bit too much excitement as she starts rapidly blinking, triggering your own as well. At least you have practice eating like this, unlike Jo who only just developed this tic.

After your tics subside Jo eats with you and just goes on into her usual tween drama stories. She's got to keep you up to date after all. It's like a soap opera just less adult topics and no evil clones. Kirby and Nate catch up and somehow rope Tim and Brian into their conversation as well. Toby just sits quietly eating and giving you amused looks every time you lock eyes.

You can't help but feel you're forgetting to do something every time you lock eyes with the brunette. The issue seems to resolve itself when a 'mrrow' slips from Toby as he takes a drink, causing him to cough from swallowing wrong.

An unconscious effort on your part, you lean and rub small circles into his back. Trying to calm his coughs. A mistake as the tween in front of you zeros in on the man as if she's just noticed he existed.

“Hi! Who are you?” if her eyes could turn into stars they would.

“uh...” Toby looks to you for help, as if the child talking to him was an alien species. “Toby...” he says uncertainly after receiving no input from you.

“Toby....”

“Rogers?”

“Are you YN's boyfriend?” Toby wishes he had an excuse to cough now.

His face flushes at the question and before he can sputter out any tongue tied response another 'mrrow' rips through him and his head harshly tilts back. Jo's eyes widen at the tic, she excitedly looks between the two of you. And you aren't sure what's going through her mind at the moment.

“OMG Do you have tourette's? Does he have tourette's or is he like you?” she's practically vibrating as she bounces between questioning both of you.

“umm...touretter's?” you say in Toby's place as the man beside you can't function a sentence right now.

Jo literally squeaks in excitement at the new development.

“I'm Jo Cowell, YN's self appointed sibling. I have tourette's too, I've had it since I was five. How long have you had tourette's?”

It felt like Jo's never ending barrage of questions was just that never ending. Toby took everything in stride, aside from the awkward dating questions. And for how worried she was about her daughter bugging you today every time you tried to catch Dia's eye she was somehow wrapped up in another conversation or her husband. Your saving grace came in a four foot two package wearing a dirty soccer uniform and sporting a fresh black eye followed closely by her frazzled step mother.

“Yikes, ball to the face or fight with the other team?” Janette asked her daughter as she walked towards the blankets.

“Fell off the bleachers.” fucking how? “Jo want to run some drills with me?” Marnie asked with a grin missing her front tooth, and before you know it your blanket was down an occupant and Toby was free of the never ending hell he'd been placed in.

“Do...do you want to take a walk? Get away for a minute.” you asked looking at the positively ruffled man next to you.

He nods numbly and follows after you into the tree line. You both just walk for a bit until Toby's complexion looses any rosiness. When he's back to his normal greyish cool tones you stop to rest. Leaning against a tree Toby follows your lead but slides down the base resting his arms on his knees as his head hits the tree behind him.

“Sorry about her, Jo can be excitable.” you'd remembered as soon as her tirade began that you should have warned him she'd lock on to his tics.

That was a near replica of your first encounter with the tween. Too late to change that now.

“I didn't mind,” he gives a boxy grin up at you “'s just how siblings are.”

There's a fond tone in his voice as he says that. And the gleam in his eyes tell a story of experience with that sort of thing.

“You've got siblings?”

“Yea, an older sister.” he sighs and looks down and the grin falls into a neutral look.

There's a story there, but you aren't one to pry. If he wants to indulge you or even himself he will in his own time. However, a joke should be able to disturb the tension that threatens to darken your moment.

“Oh I bet you were an absolute menace to her.” giving a good natured chuckle, one Toby returns as the fond look in his eyes came back.

“For your information I was a delight as a child.”

“Pfft yea I bet. And just how many times did you break an arm falling out of a tree?”

Toby looks stunned for a moment. Was that something weird to say? You remember the summer nearly everyone in your grade broke their arms falling out of a tree. Hell you would've too if you hadn't landed in a bush, all you got were some gnarly bruises and a few thorns stuck in you. Then you swore a vow to only climb thick limbed trees.

“Like twice...but..how did, how did you know?”

“It wasn't a universal thing? I just figured since we were both from Virginia like your class would've also had like sixteen kids break their arm or something over the summer.”

“Well I was home schooled so I wouldn't know.”

“Wait, like home schooled home schooled, or church home schooled. There's a difference.” giving you a sneer he just shrugs.

“Fucking home schooled home schooled. Don't see how that makes a difference.” he pops his knuckles. Jerkiness of the motion indicating his tic rather than his choice.

“One you're supposedly taught science and the other you're told Jesus loves you.” you deadpan as you slide down the tree mirroring Toby's position.

“I had two friends, they were twins, who were church home schooled until high school. Nice girls but only so many times I can pretend to know what the hell a veggie tale is.”

Toby snorts and shakes his head. This is probably all you'll get from him about his early life. But he's not dancing around the questions as much as he was a few weeks ago. The quiet is nice and you could honestly just spend the rest of the day in the forest. A cool breeze blows through the trees and you catch the smells from the picnic. For some reason it seems to make you queezy, you'll probably stay here a while longer. You might be getting overstimulated.

“What...what was public school like?”

The question sort of shocks you breaking the moment. And you just stared at Toby for a while before you actually thought of an answer. The answer you wanted to say was “hell, it was straight hell”. You don't think he's talking about the institution itself and more the experience. So you tell him.

You start to weave together a picture spanning twelve long years for Toby. Telling him of pranks or jokes learned, older siblings bugged, holidays celebrated, tearful goodbyes, joyous reunions. Paint pictures of gossiping friends, Jane Austin worthy rumors, unified students banding together to change outdated rules, snowball fights in the courtyard, Snapchat stories shared through the school. The distance that gets put into place the second you aren't legally required to spend all your time with people. The feeling of emptiness as you try to navigate a world you were never prepared for...and doing that alone.

You tried to condense it but you went off into a lot of stories and probably gave him way too much context for everything. But Toby sat there and absorbed everything you had to say. When your mood dropped as you finished he only had one thing to say.

“Sounds like it sucked.”

Looking at him you could see the worried brow and small half smile on his lips. It was reassuring in a sense.

“Yea, yea it did.”

The two of you sat and stared at each other for a bit. A sort of connection being formed from a not so similar but not quite unsimilar schooling maybe. Or the acceptance that someone didn't have to be just like you to get you.

There isn't really a lot of time to dwell on that as a pop is heard followed shortly there after by a crack and sizzle. Soon Toby's face was bathed in a blue glow, as was the surrounding area. Another pop came and the crack and sizzle followed after. Bathing the forest in a neon green hue. Looking up in time to see a third and fourth flare go up and watching them expand in a firey orange and yellow burst. Fizzling out as they made their way down.

“I didn't know there'd be fire...fireworks.” he's tense at his tree as he swallowed the lump that you clearly heard in his throat.

“Yea I...I didn't either.” looking back to Toby you hold out a hand, “Wanna head back to the lodge?”

He pulls his dark eyes away from the sky to look at you and your outstretched hand. Not a moment later he has grabbed your hand and is yanking you into a standing position with him. Leading the way to the lodge as if he were a bat flying out of Hell. His ability to lead you both deftly through the dimly lit forest with barely any sunlight was pretty impressive. At least it would've been had you bee able to focus on it rather than cringing from the noise.

When you get to the lodge Toby doesn't say anything, nor does he let go of your hand. You feel like he's completely forgotten about you even though you're literally joined together. Toby pushes through the doors and makes his way up the stairs. Without a word you let him lead you to where ever it is he's going.

Based on his behavior you have a pretty good guess. When Toby pulls out his room key with his other hand you know you're correct. And that waiting inside would be a very good boy.

“Connor pressure.” are the only words out of Toby's mouth as he flings open the door and falls back onto the ground.

Thankfully he'd let go of your hand. Since he all but dragged you here you figure he could use the company. Closing his door you go over and sit beside his prone form. Not saying a word to each other, just waiting for the others to get back from the festivities.

#sorry for being gone so long #ticci toby #ticcitoby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #masky x reader #Timothy Wright #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #Brian Thomas #brian thomas x reader #creepypasta fanfic #a cure for insomnia

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 4 years

Text

Whumptober No. 7

“Push with the crutch and pull with your other arm.”

Thwup.

Hop.

“Good. That’s it. Again!”

Thwup.

Hop.

“You’ve got it. Keep going!”

“Oh my God, this is exhausting.”

“I know.”

“Oh shit, sorry. I know you know, I just…”

“It’s fine. Come on! One more. Almost there.”

Robin sighs. She takes a deep breath and places her crutch on the next step while sliding her free hand up the handrail and gripping it firmly. The cast on her broken ankle seems to weigh a ton as she lifts her foot higher, making sure she won’t bump it against the step. It’s only two flights of stairs to their office, but she hasn’t even managed the first one, and it feels like a marathon.

“Alright, Robin.” Strike’s palm is pressed gently against the small of her back. He’s behind her, instructing her and ready to brace her in case she stumbles. She can sense his body heat and feel his breath coasting across the back of her neck. “Up you go.”

Grunt.

Thwup.

Hop.

“I really don’t know how you do it,” she gasps, sweating and out of breath. “This is impossible!”

“Hey,” Strike answers, and she can almost hear his raised eyebrows behind her back. “Don't blame me! It was you who insisted on going back to work! I told you to stay at home and rest your foot in your ground level apartment.”

Robin turns as much as she dares to, precariously balanced on the stairs as she is, and glares at him.

“And for how long would that be? My stupid foot will take six weeks to heal, and we’re swamped. I can’t have you picking up my slack for weeks. We’re partners!”

She clutches the handrail a bit harder and let’s her foot sink to rest it on the step she’s navigating. The break is hurting, and her thigh is trembling. Her neck and shoulder ache. But she pulls herself together and, snorting angrily, vanquishes another step.

Thwup.

Hop.

Behind her, Strike mumbles something about the possibilities of remote working and how Robin might look a bit conspicuous tailing their marks on crutches, and she feels that she’s about to snap at him for no other reason than the fact that he’s right. She bites her lip and rotates her burning shoulder.

“Sore?” He sounds kind and understanding all of a sudden, and it deflates her. How often has Strike navigated these stairs on crutches? How much strength and self-discipline must it take to manage his disability every day?

“Yeah,” she admits, cranking her neck.

“You know I could just ca-“

“You’re NOT going to carry me!” She interrupts him, twisting to look at him, taken a little aback by how close those green eyes are. “You’re going to bust up your knee, or we’ll both fall or-“

He shuts her up by reaching behind her back and hoisting her up into his arms. Just like that. Once more, Robin is reminded of his upper body strength and of the fact that he’s had years of practice living with an artificial leg. He grunts a little, and from the way his mouth tightens she can tell that this maneuver is putting considerable strain on Strike’s prosthetic leg. But she also sees the determined set of his jaw.

“Cormoran,” she exclaims. “What on earth are you doing?! You’re gonna-“

“Shut it, Ellacott,” he replies with pretend gruffness and, with less difficulty than expected, begins to climb the stairs, carrying her in his arms. “We won’t get any work done buggering about in the staircase. You said it yourself: we’ve got cases lining up, and I can’t do it all on my own.”

He’s breathing heavily now, his smoker’s lungs struggling as much as his leg’s got to be. His climb is uneven; he sets his good leg on each step first, and Robin can tell that not being able to pull himself along by the handrail makes it much harder. But they’re almost at the top now and, frankly, scooted up against Strike’s broad chest and shoulder, his smell everywhere, isn’t the worst position she’s found herself in recently, so she keeps her mouth shut and concentrates on not letting the crutch dangling from her hand get in the way.

To her surprise, Strike doesn’t put her down when they’ve arrived but pushes through the door and, to Pat’s and Barclay’s eyebrow-arched astonishment gallantly sets her down on the farting sofa which - not so gallantly - farts.

Flustered, Robin drops the crutch behind the sofa and runs her hand through her hair. Strike straightens and wipes his sleeve across his brow.

“What?!” he snaps at his still-staring colleagues.

Pat coughs and Barclay, emitting an ambiguous Scottish noise, refocuses on the file in his lap.

“You okay?”

Strike catches Robin’s eyes with that scrutinizing, shockingly gentle gaze that he pulls up whenever it throws her most. It does now, too, and she looks away to rearrange her injured foot on the sofa. Although Pat’s typing has resumed, she can feel her observing them over the rim of her reading glasses.

“Yeah,” she says, breathlessly, although it’s been him carrying her and not the other way around. “Yeah, thanks.”

Strike nods formally.

“I’ll go fetch your other crutch before that idiot of a graphic designer trips over it.”

And then he strides out the office door, his uneven gait a little worse for wear, and for the first time since breaking her ankle Robin isn’t quite as mad that it happened.

(To read all of my Whumptober fics, go to AO3, here)

#whumptober #whumptober 2020 #i've got you #cormoran strike #cb strike #robin ellacott #fan fiction #fanfic #strike whumptober

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elcinelateleymickyandonie · 3 years

Text

Jacques Marin.

Filmografía

Cine

Años 1940-1950

1946 : Le Beau voyage de Louis Cuny - Un mauvais garçon

1948 : L'assassin est à l'écoute de Raoul André - le barman

1950 : Dieu a besoin des hommes de Jean Delannoy

1950 : Le Mystérieux colonel Barclay, cortometraje de Jacques Vilfrid

1951 : Seul dans Paris : de Hervé Bromberger un homme du village

1952 : Jeux interdits de René Clément - Georges Dollé

1952 : Nous sommes tous des assassins de André Cayatte

1953 : Quitte ou double de Robert Vernay - Lucien

1953 : Un jour comme les autres, cortometraje de Georges Rouquier - Pierrot

1954 : Faites-moi confiance de Gilles Grangier - Bob

1954 : Avant le déluge de André Cayatte - L'ouvrier à bicyclette

1954 : J'y suis... j'y reste de Maurice Labro

1954 : Papa, maman, la bonne et moi de Jean-Paul Le Chanois - Le voisin

1955 : Si Paris nous était conté de Sacha Guitry - Un gardien de prison

1955 : Papa, maman, ma femme et moi de Jean-Paul Le Chanois - Le garagiste

1955 : Ça va barder de John Berry

1955 : Sur le banc de Robert Vernay - Le policier qui court après La Hurlette et Carmen

1955 : Le Dossier noir de André Cayatte - Un policier

1955 : Les Évadés de Jean-Paul Le Chanois - Un prisonnier

1955 : French Cancan de Jean Renoir - Un homme dans la file d'attente

1955 : La Rue des bouches peintes de Robert Vernay - Le commissaire

1955 : Les Hommes en blanc de Ralph Habib

1955 : Gas-oil de Gilles Grangier - Le gendarme

1955 : L'Amant de lady Chatterley de Marc Allégret - Un homme du pub

1956 : Des gens sans importance de Henri Verneuil - Le routier qui fesse Clotilde

1956 : Marie-Antoinette de Jean Delannoy - Un crieur de journaux

1956 : Mon curé chez les pauvres d’Henri Diamant-Berger

1956 : Ces sacrées vacances de Robert Vernay - L'automobiliste

1956 : Le Sang à la tête de Gilles Grangier - L'agent de police

1956 : Paris, Palace Hôtel de Henri Verneuil - Le livreur de fleurs

1956 : La Traversée de Paris de Claude Autant-Lara Le patron du restaurant

1956 : Cette sacrée gamine de Michel Boisrond - Un gendarme

1956 : Reproduction interdite de Gilles Grangier

1957 : Le rouge est mis de Gilles Grangier - Un flic de garde

1957 : A Paris tous les deux - (Paris holiday) de Gerd Oswald.

1957 : Les femmes sont marrantes de André Hunebelle - Le taxi

1957 : Les Vendanges (The Vintage) de Jeffrey Hayden

1957 : Le Coin tranquille de Robert Vernay

1957 : Porte des Lilas de René Clair - L'inspecteur qui enquête sur le vol chez l'épicier

1957 : Une Parisienne de Michel Boisrond - Le motard

1957 : Montparnasse 19 de Jacques Becker - Le patron du café

1958 : Les Misérables de Jean-Paul Le Chanois : Le messager (dans la première époque)

1958 : La Tour, prends garde ! de Georges Lampin

1958 : Le Désordre et la Nuit de Gilles Grangier - Le garçon de café bavard

1958 : En cas de malheur de Claude Autant-Lara - Le réceptionniste du Trianon-Hôtel

1958 : Les Racines du ciel (Roots of Heaven) de John Huston - Cerisot

1958 : Le Miroir à deux faces de André Cayatte - Un professeur

1958 : Le Temps des œufs durs de Norbert Carbonnaux - Le pêcheur

1958 : Trois jours à vivre de Gilles Grangier : le gendarme

1958 : Les Tricheurs de Marcel Carné - Monsieur Félix

1958 : Madame et son auto de Robert Vernay - Monsieur Rouille

1958 : Le Joueur de Claude Autant-Lara

1959 : Archimède le clochard de Gilles Grangier - Mimile, un habitué du café

1959 : Rue des prairies de Denys de La Patellière - Monsieur Mauduis

1959 : Maigret et l'affaire Saint-Fiacre de Jean Delannoy - Albert, le chauffeur de la comtesse

1959 : Guinguette de Jean Delannoy - Albert

1959 : Drôles de phénomènes de Robert Vernay - L'inspecteur

1959 : Croquemitoufle ou Les Femmes des autres de Claude Barma - Le contrôleur

1959 : La Bête à l'affût de Pierre Chenal - Le contrôleur routier

1959 : Match contre la mort de Claude Bernard-Aubert.

Año 1960

1960 : Les Vieux de la vieille de Gilles Grangier - Le brigadier de gendarmerie dont la chaîne de vélo a sauté

1960 : La Française et l'Amour, sketch Le Mariage de René Clair - Le contrôleur

1960 : Drame dans un miroir (Crack in the Mirror) de Richard Fleischer - Le gardien

1960 : Pantalaska de Paul Paviot - Monsieur Tropman

1960 : Monsieur Suzuki de Robert Vernay

1960 : Vers l'extase de René Wheeler - Le boucher

1960 : Au cœur de la ville de Pierre Gautherin

1961 : Le Président de Henri Verneuil - Gaston, le chauffeur de car.

1961 : Le cave se rebiffe de Gilles Grangier - L'inspecteur Larpin, de la police mondaine

1961 : Le Général ennemi (The Ennemy General) de George Sherman - Marceau

1961 : Le Grand Risque (The Big Gamble) de Richard Fleischer - L'employé de l'hôtel

1961 : Arrêtez les tambours de Georges Lautner - L'épicier

1961 : Le Monocle noir de Georges Lautner - Trochu

1961 : La Pendule à Salomon de Vicky Ivernel

1962 : Le Gentleman d'Epsom de Gilles Grangier - Raoul, le boucher turfiste

1962 : Gigot, le clochard de Belleville (Gigot) de Gene Kelly - Jean

1962 : Le Couteau dans la plaie de Anatole Litvak - Le commissaire

1962 : La Belle des îles (Tiara Tahiti) de Ted Kotcheff - Desmoulins

1962 : Portrait-robot de Paul Paviot

1963 : Charade de Stanley Donen - L'inspecteur Édouard Grandpierre

1963 : Le Glaive et la Balance de André Cayatte - Un gendarme

1963 : Méfiez-vous, mesdames de André Hunebelle

1963 : Le Poulet, cortometraje de Claude Berri

1964 : Le Train de John Frankenheimer y Bernard Farrel - Jacques, le chef de gare de Rive-Reine

1964 : La Vie conjugale (version Françoise) d’André Cayatte

1964 : Vacances pour Yvette (Vacaciones para Yvette) de José-Maria Forque

1965 : Fantômas se déchaîne de André Hunebelle - L'agent de police ferroviaire

1965 : Humour noir, sketch La Bestiole de Claude Autant-Lara

1965 : Les Bons Vivants, sketch La Fermeture de Gilles Grangier - L'acquéreur du mobilier de la maison close

1966 : Comment voler un million de dollars (How to steal a million) de William Wyler - Le gardien-chef du musée

1966 : Paris au mois d'août de Pierre Granier-Deferre - Bouvreuil

1966 : Les Centurions (Lost Command) de Mark Robson - Le maire coléreux à qui on prend son hélicoptère

1966 : Le Plus Vieux Métier du monde, sketch Aujourd'hui de Claude Autant-Lara - L'agent de police

1966 : La Vingt-cinquième Heure de Henri Verneuil - Le soldat chez Dubrosco

1968 : La Motocyclette (The Girl on a Motorcycle) de Jack Cardiff - Le pompiste

1968 : L'Homme à la Buick de Gilles Grangier - Un déménageur

1969 : La Nuit du lendemain (The Night of the Following Day) de Hubert Cornfield y Richard Boone - Le patron du café

1969 : La Fiancée du pirate de Nel.

Año 1970

1970 : Hello, Goodbye (Hello Goodbye) de Jean Negulesco

1970 : Darling Lili (Darling Lili) de Blake Edwards - Le major Duval

1971 : Mourir d'aimer de André Cayatte - Le correspondant

1971 : Le drapeau noir flotte sur la marmite de Michel Audiard - Antoine Simonet, chef de train S.N.C.F

1971 : Jo de Jean Girault - Andrieux, un policier chercheur

1971 : Le Cinéma de papa de Claude Berri - L'acteur jouant le chef de gare

1971 : Le Petit Matin de Jean-Gabriel Albicocco - La Bouhère

1973 : Shaft contre les trafiquants d'hommes (Shaft in Africa) de John Guillermin - L'inspecteur Cusset

1973 : Mais où est donc passée la septième compagnie ? de Robert Lamoureux - L'épicier français collaborateur

1974 : L'Île sur le toit du monde (Island at the Top of the World) de Robert Stevenson - Le capitaine Brieux

1974 : Les murs ont des oreilles de Jean Girault - Lucas

1974 : Vos gueules, les mouettes ! de Robert Dhéry - Le porte-bannière

1974 : Les "S" pions (S.P.Y.S) d’Irvin Kershner - Lafayette

1974 : Impossible... pas français de Robert Lamoureux - Dussautoy

1975 : Bons baisers de Hong Kong d’Yvan Chiffre - Le gradé de la police

1975 : Opération Lady Marlène de Robert Lamoureux - Le bistrot

1975 : Flic Story de Jacques Deray - Le patron de l'auberge de Saint-Rémy

1975 : Catherine et compagnie de Michel Boisrond - Le patron de l'agence de location de voitures

1976 : Marathon Man (Marathon Man) de John Schlesinger - Leclerc

1976 : L'Année sainte de Jean Girault - Moreau, le gardien de prison

1976 : Le Jour de gloire de Jacques Besnard - Le patron du bistrot

1977 : Le mille-pattes fait des claquettes de Jean Girault - L'inspecteur de police

1977 : La Coccinelle à Monte-Carlo (Herbie Goes to Monte-Carlo) de Vincent McEveety - L'inspecteur Bouchet

1978 : L'Horoscope de Jean Girault - J.L. Beauché

1978 : La Grande cuisine (Who Is Killing the Great Chefs of Europe?) de Ted Kotcheff - Masseret

1978 : Général... nous voilà ! de Jacques Besnard - Mac Goland

1979 : Grandison d’Achim Kurz.

Años 1980 - 1990

1981 : Ach du lieber Harry de Jean Girault - Un haut dignitaire

1982 : Te marre pas .. c'est pour rire ! de Jacques Besnard - Albert, le chauff.

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artblooger19moon · 5 years

Text

CHUCKY MOVIE MARATHON

May 3rd : Child’s Play [ 1, 2 & 3 ]

After ending classes and starting summer, I saw the rest of the movies :

[ Bride of Chucky, Seed of Chucky and Curse of Chucky ]

May 23rd : Cult Of Chucky

August 12 : Child’s Play 2019

CHILD’S PLAY SERIES

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years

Text

Panic Attack in Aisle Five

Prompt for the 14th: Panic

Note: This is set in the OT4 verse (everyone is boyfriends, except for Duck and Barclay, who are metamours). For some context, in “Have you found what you’re looking for” it’s implied that Stern hasn’t had many close connections with people for years, in part due to his work. That means he sometimes struggles believing he’s worthy of care.

Damn that Halloween decoration.

Stern sits in the diner booth, absentmindedly sipping his water as his heart rate climbs like he’s running a marathon rather than out to lunch with his boyfriends.

It had all been going so well, too.

----------------------

It had been Barclays idea for them all to go into the nearest city to hunt down a Halloween superstore. He needed decorations for the lodge, and Duck wanted to get some new lights for the apartment (“rats ate the ones I had before”).

And so they decided to make a day of it. It had been awhile since he’d been in one place long enough to decorate for a holiday, and Stern is truly excited.

He and Barclay start out in the lights section, trying to figure out what won’t overload the lodges circuits or get tangled around Jake when he inevitably tries to stunt. Behind him, he hears Duck repeatedly trying to jumpscare Indrid, with limited success (“ah!” “‘Drid, you if you scream before I jump out it ain’t the same”).

“Hey look, Indrid, it’s you” Barclay holds up a strand of black-winged figures with red eyes.

“I think those are meant to be bats.” Stern peers at the lights.

“Really?” Barclay looks at them again.

“Either way, they’re comin with me.” Duck grabs a box.

“We are not putting those up.” Indrid says from his spot examining glow-in-the-dark cobwebs

“Not outside we ain’t. Goin in the bedroom because it’s your lair” Duck bounces his eyebrows and the others laugh (Indrid rolling his eyes as he does).

It’s when he’s off by himself, looking for pumpkin carving kits so Barclays kitchen knives don’t get trashed, that it happens. He rounds a corner in the animatronics section and stops in his tracks.

Someone has recreated a scene from “An American Werewolf in London” with an unfortunate victims guts strewn across the floor. On one level, he’s impressed with the effects.

On another level, he feels like his guts will shortly be joining them on the ground.

A forest, his third mission, blood on pine needles.

It’s like the world gets harder to focus on.

Another agent, viscera, grizzly bear.

He forces himself to move through the aisles, to gather up the carving kits and bring them back.

A fluke, a rare animal attack, unlucky, could have been him, so much red

Duck is doubled over laughing at the “sexy bigfoot” costume they’ve discovered, Indrid cackling along with him and Barclay looking affronted.

Sounds stay hollow as they pay, and he’s wishing more and more that he could go home and hide, even though he’s not really sure where home is.

“Got you a present” Barclay murmurs as he loops an arm around his shoulders. Stern just manages not to jump at the contact, offers a tight smile and a nod. Barclay gives him that gentle, worried frown of his.

He keeps giving him that look every now and then as they wander through the downtown and find a place to eat. Stern is ready to snap, to say that he’s fine, that he’ll be fine, he’s been fine every time this has happened before.

“Babe?” Barclay rests a hand on his knee carefully, “what’s wrong, you seem upset.”

The words won’t come, and that makes the feeling worse, because surely they’ll get annoyed with him for being uncommunicative-

“Joseph” Indrid says quietly, “am I correct that you’re close to a panic attack?”

Stern nods.

“Love, please order for me. Barclay, I believe you can order for Joseph this time around.” Indrid taps Duck so that the ranger stands up, allowing the seer to slide from the opposite booth. Wordlessly, Stern follows him outside, Indrid somehow managing to find a secluded spot near a fountain.

“There, no prying eyes.” He removes his glasses.

“What are you doing?” Stern hisses. This is, so far, the opposite of helpful.

“I promise there are no futures where I’m seen.” He opens his arms, cocks his head. “Yes?”

Stern steps into his embrace immediately. Indrids wings enfold him, blocking out much of the autumn light.

“I can’t, I didn’t, I’m sorry-”

“Shhhhhh” Indrid strokes his hair, “do not focus on trying to make me understand. All that matters right now is helping you weather this. Can you indicate what you need?”

“Something to ground me, something to remind me I’m here and not there.”

A slow, even purr vibrates through the dark feathers, Indrid managing to (somewhat awkwardly) speak at the same time, “Focus on the sound, my pet.”

It’s the first time Indrid’s used that word outside of the bedroom. It sounds completely different, all trace of possessiveness gone.

Stern tries, he truly does, to focus only on the purring, but still he feels like he’s floating away from himself.

“In this moment, here, what do you see?” Indrid asks softly.

“Feathers, mostly. I can see the cement too.”

“What do you hear?”

“You, purring. And,” he breathes in, then out, concentrating, “some birds. The fountain.”

“Smell?”

Another deep breath, the world is becoming clearer “That sterile watery smell, something fruity-”

“-We’re near a Jamba Juice, a fine establishment”

“And soap, Ducks soap. Wait, this is his shirt isn’t it?”

“Technically, yes. You’re doing very well, Joseph. Two more to go. What do you feel?”

“Your feathers, how the ones around your neck” he glides a hand over them “are fluffier while the ones on your wings are smooth.”

“Lastly, oh, ah, one moment.” He puts his glasses back on quickly, right before footsteps pass by them, “what do you taste?”

Stern leans in, kisses him, “you.”

Indrid cups his chin, long fingers stroking his cheek, “Did that help?”

“Immensely. Thank you, Indrid.”

The Sylph simply smiles.

Their food arrives right after they get back to the restaurant. Stern braces himself to be fussed at, but just Duck grins, relieved, at both of them and Barclay takes Sterns hand as he continues telling a story about a souffle incident at work.

Carefully, Stern rests his head on Barclays shoulder, his boyfriend pausing his tale of kitchen chaos to kiss him on the temple

It’s not until they’re back in the car, Duck driving with Indrid in the passenger seat while Stern and Barclay cuddle in the back, that Barclay grabs one of the bags and hands it to him.

“Saw these and, uh, know they’re supposed to be a novelty thing but I knew I had to get ‘em for you.”

“Are these...UFO bedsheets?”

“Yep. They even glow in the dark.”

“Somehow I doubt these are standard Amnesty Lodge bedding” he teases.

“You got me there, agent. But you aren’t a standard guest anymore either. Far as I, or honestly anyone else is concerned, lodge is your home. You get to do that room up however you want.”

“They’re wonderful, Barclay. Thank you.” He nestles against the larger man.

“How you doing?” Barclay asks gently.

“Much better. I’m sorry for worrying you. There are things from my past that don’t always stay there. I, I don’t think I’m ready to say more than that.”

“Say as much or as little as you need to, babe. I love you. So do those two weirdos. And I’m here for you no matter what.”

Stern nods, kisses Barclay once and shuts his eyes. Reminds himself that things will come out okay in the end. In the driver seat, Duck flicks on the blinker and turns them in the direction of home.

#promptober #panic #panic attack #sternclay #indrid cold/ duck newton #agent stern/barclay #agent stern/barclay/indrid cold/Duck newton #OT4: Government Men and Their Cryptid Boyfriends

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amarantine-amirite · 4 years

Text

Life in a Nutshell

“Laurie, how did you get tickets to this thing?” Marty asked. He still couldn’t believe that she got tickets to Worldstock, Miami’s newest and supposedly hottest world music festival. “tickets for this thing usually go for 700 bucks a pop.”

“Easy” Laurie said, “the school gave them to me as compensation for the spring play getting cancelled.”

Marty nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he said, “that crazy, Wild-West version of Cinderella. Why did they cancel it?”

“Well,” Laurie began, “the ‘Cinderella’ (well, Stacy, anyway) was supposed to wear this bright pink saloon girl outfit. I looked terrible in it, it clashed really, really badly with the red hair. As a result, they kicked me out of the play.”

Marty’s eyes widened. “They kicked you out because you didn’t look good in a costume? That’s awful!”

Laurie nodded and smiled deviously. “Oh, it gets better” she said, “I told Prudence about it, and somehow, her parents got wind of it, and they complained to the school. They didn't complain about me getting kicked out of the play for not looking good in the costume.”

“They didn’t?”

“No.” Laurie laughed, “They complained about the fact that the play had saloon girls in it, thus making it somehow inappropriate, since, according to them, saloon girls are basically ‘early American Hooter's girls’ and thus overly sexual. Long story short, the school cancelled the play.”

Meanwhile, Gwen overheard everything Laurie said. “You know,” she chimed in, “none of that would have happened if you could do a chin up.”

Laurie raised an eyebrow. Her jaw dropped slightly. “Are you insinuating this is my fault, Gwen?”

“No” Gwen said in the most monotone voice she could muster, “I’m stressed, what happened to you really upset me, I didn’t know what else to say.”

Marty looked at Gwen. “What are you doing here?” he asked her.

“Strings band,” she said, “we’re opening for Loreena McKennitt.”

The three of them continued to talk. Well, actually, Laurie and Marty talked, Gwen couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Eventually, the bus pulled up to the front gates. The gates to Worldstock opened.

Contrary to what Laurie, Marty, Gwen, and thousands of others had been told; Worldstock actually took place in an abandoned resort development full of roads that led to nowhere. No infrastructure, only half-finished skeletons of actual stages, and no hope.

To make matters worse, Worldstock fell on the same weekend as a major pre-Olympic sailing race series that utilized all of the local hotels, vacation rentals and resources.

“What the fuck?!” someone said.

“Turn this bus around!” said another.

“Is this supposed to be a music festival?” a third person demanded, “If it is, it’s about as slapped together as what Judy’s currently wearing.”

“Hey, shut up!” Judy barked.

If the Worldstock music festival were a piece of architecture, it would be a flight of stairs consisting of three cement blocks held together by a carpet. On top of the nearly nonexistent infrastructure, staff frequently damaged luggage, drank on the job, and in general, had no clue what the fuck they were doing. When Laurie and Marty went to pick up their bags, Marty caught baggage handlers trying to steal the urn out of his suitcase immediately after they threw it onto the ground and the suitcase split open.

“Hey!“ he barked, “those are my dad’s ashes!” He totally forgot that the ashes were in his suitcase. Three years ago, his family planned to take the ashes to New Orleans and scatter them in the front yard of the house where his dad grew up, but such a trip never materialized.

The baggage handlers continued to play football with the urn, until summer to get through it and it landed on the ground and broke. Almost immediately afterwards, a stray cat walked up to the ashes, dug a hole, and went to the bathroom.

The musicians didn’t have it any easier than the guests. When Gwen (along with the few other musical acts that hadn’t pulled out) attempted to find the artist sign in booth, a disorganized and clueless staff member just handed them a booklet for the event.

On top of problems with the staff, the organizers of the event also forgot something crucial: toilets! Many people who tried to look for the bathrooms only found one port-a-potty, with of course, no toilet paper. Seriously! There wasn’t a square to spare.

It took Gwen way too long to sign in, and even longer to find where her peers in the band were supposed to meet. But once Gwen got there, she would be in for a shock. “Ah, Gwen,” said her band teacher, Mr. Barclay, “glad you could make it. There’s actually something I wanna tell you.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Gwen replied, “couldn’t find the place because these idiots don’t know what they’re doing. I ask for directions, they give me a brochure for the event!”

“It’s OK, Gwen.” said Mr. Barclay, “You weren’t actually supposed to show up.”

Gwen couldn’t believe what she just heard. “What?”

“Didn’t anyone tell you? We kicked you out.”

Gwen’s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. “Seriously? You kicked me out?” She spoke in a way that her words felt like getting stuck with a long, thick needle, “you mean I memorized the song from Lord of the Rings for nothing?!”

“Well,” Mr. Barclay continued, “we didn’t really have a choice but to get rid of you. You play the violin left-handed.”

“Bullshit!” she shouted.

“It’s a safety issue. All the bows have to go in the same direction, otherwise you risk taking someone’s eye out. Either get with the program and play violin normally, or go play the violin somewhere else.”

Gwen struggled to comprehend the feeling of what had just happened. She was unable to catch her breath. A passerby would have assumed that she was either panting so much from running the New York Marathon or panicking because she was afraid of getting busted for cheating during the New York Marathon by taking the subway. Either way, she stood there, out of breath and visibly sweaty.

What they couldn't see was her numb right arm. They couldn't see the chest pains. They couldn't see her oxygen starved heart cells die off like flies.

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!? CAN'T YOU SEE HOW HURT I AM??!! BAND MEANT THE WORLD TO ME AND NOW YOU'RE KICKING ME OUT FOR BEING LEFT HANDED?!?! FUCK YOU!! FUCK YOU AND EVERYONE YOU- ", she shouted at her band teacher. Before she could finish, a stream of vomit exited her mouth at a 30 degree angle and landed in the bell of some poor guy's tuba. Despite being at a healthy weight of 113 pounds for her 5'2" frame, she actually had a heart attack. She may have been thin, but she still had a heart attack, as evidenced by the chest pains, racing heart, and second stream of barf that just flew out of her mouth.

Why? Her heart just plain couldn’t cope with the shock of Mr. Barclay ejecting from band the way her body ejected vomit from her mouth as increasing volumes of her heart cells died from lack of oxygen.

"NOW LOOK WHAT YOU BASTARDS DID!! CALL AN AMBULANCE, I'M HAVING A HEART ATTACK BECAUSE OF YOU!!!" she shouted as she ran away, "MR. BARCLAY, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!"

Laurie didn't even get the chance to tell Marty that there was no way that their first legit date could go any worse. Before she could even open her mouth, Gwen snuck up behind her. "Laurie, you, 911, now!"

Laurie turned around. She glared at Gwen "I'm on a date," she barked, "so can you leave me alone?"

"No!" Gwen said sharply "this is an emergency!"

Between the festival turning out to be an actual dumpster and all the stuff that happened with the play getting cancelled, Laurie just lost it. "OK, I see, but take your emergency somewhere else." she nearly growled at Gwen "I'm on a date"

Gwen stood there in shock. “Who are you?” she asked.

Laurie shook her head, flabbergasted. “I’m your best friend. We’ve known each other our whole lives!”

Yeah, Gwen thought, if you really were my best friend, you'd call 911. "Can you put the date thing aside and just call 911 before I collapse?"

Laurie started to flare her nostrils and stomp her feet. "What part of I'm on a date do you not understand?! I can't call 911, I'm busy; so, just cheese it!"

Gwen fell to her knees. She dry heaved twice before any actual words came out of her mouth. “You’re not the same." she gasped, "I don’t know who you are anymore.”

"I haven't changed here, but that's beside the issue" bellowed a now fuming and frantically pointing Laurie, "The problem here is that the school cancelled my play because the morons in costume design couldn't be bothered with designing a costume that would go with my red hair, and the consolation the school gave me were these tickets to a dumpster fire of a music festival. I need to be the centre of attention right now, not you; so make like a tree and get out!"

Gwen threw up on Laurie. It was her only defense.

@justsomewritingprompts

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #short fiction #creative writing

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gslocks123 · 4 years

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Ways To Know You Have A Great Locksmith

A good locksmith should never be underestimated since the types of services that are provided involve our safety and security. Therefore, knowing exactly who to call at the most inconvenient and unexpected time will be a tremendous relief. You should be prepared and keep in mind that this can happen to anybody, and find a before you need one. Anyone can lose or misplace their keys. However, how do you recognize a good lockmaster, and what separates a good locksmith from a bad one?

How Long Does It Take For Your Locksmith To Arrive?

If you have a good locksmith, then it should not take him longer than half an hour to arrive if you have an emergency situation. This means that your lockmaster is reliable and will be there whenever you need him. The entire point of offering emergency service is to provide customers with the time and attention they need, whenever and wherever they need it.

How Do You Define A Professional Locksmith?

A professional lockmaster is someone who does his job without causing any damages to your locks. This means that has experience and knows what he is doing. There are too many people out there who claim that they are professional locksmiths, but lack the necessary credentials to qualify for one.

Is The Locksmith Able To Meet Specific Needs?

We live in a technologically advanced world characterized by constant innovations and improvements. Security is becoming more enhanced, and this means that locks are more complex today than they ever were in the past. A good one who is constantly eager to learn new things and keep up-to-date with the newest solutions.

Is An Estimate Given Before The Work Begins?

Since the locksmith that you choose should be someone who is reliable and trustworthy, he will be someone who will not try to scam you by raising prices. This is especially possible if you need an emergency locksmith and an unprofessional locksmith tries to charge you an exorbitant price for his services. A professional will provide you an estimate of the price before work begins, even in an emergency situation.

What Is The Reputation Of Your Locksmith?

Chances are that a good locksmith and the company will have a good reputation. You should check how long the locksmith is in business. It is possible that a locksmith service that has changed the name of their business several times has done so to escape a history of complaints. So, this is something that you should look into in-depth.

Find GS Locks Locksmith Services in USA & Canada Cities Mentioned Below:

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#locksmith services #locksmith #locksmith washington

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