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kirkycurls · 8 months

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You Jump, I Jump, Jack

When a gorgeous metalhead and his band move into town, your dreary summer pouring coffees is turned on its head—for the better.

Chapter Two

CW for this chapter: Mentions of alcoholism/mean drunk father, bullying, anxiety attack.

Flinging your house keys and some other bits into your handbag, you practically ripped your hair out of its ponytail as you held the wardrobe door open with your foot, eyes erratically scanning your array of neutrals and old tees for something a bit more glam.

You were getting worked up. Accosted by your elderly next door neighbour on your way home from work, you’d ended up with your head under her sink for the best part of an hour in an attempt to “knock some sense into that damn leaky pipe”. She knew you were good at fixing things and had used and abused that knowledge at least three times since the start of the year.

Eventually you’d escaped, explaining with a wave that you had to get an early night because you had jury duty the next day—a bold-faced lie you usually saved for only the most dire circumstances, which this was turning out to be. Margaret could, respectfully, screw herself. There was a cute guy waiting for you downtown and you were not going to be late.

You shot a glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table: 7.48 pm.

Okay, you breathed. You still had twenty minutes or so to get dressed and head out. It was only a fifteen minute walk from your house to work—ten if you power walked. But you didn’t want to get to Metallica HQ too early.

Pizza and beer. It would be nice. A chance to meet Kirk’s friends and see him again in a casual setting, sans coffee-stained apron and awkward customer service persona. And you really wanted to see him again.

You’d parted ways that afternoon with easy smiles on your faces and his hand falling a little too close to your waist as he’d thanked you for “showing me a hoppin’ time at Yvette’s coffee shop”. You’d snorted at that and blushed hard, your thoughts immediately jumping back to the cringeworthy drinks spillage. Something was definitely in the air between the pair of you and it was more than the electricity of the stormy weather.

As the thought of your last interaction with Kirk faded from your mind, your faint smile slowly succumbed to the weight of a familiar dread that had quietly invited itself into your bedroom and settled, heavy and grey, above your head. You’d known it would be paying a visit at some time this evening, but you’d so far held off its approach.

Pizza…and beer. If there were two things you didn’t like mixed, it was men and alcohol. In fact, you barely touched the stuff yourself, only giving in for special occasions.

It was your father’s fault. Night after night you’d lay in bed as a kid, eyes aching to close but knowing that at 2am on the dot he would explode through the front door after hours necking spirits at various bars with his friends.

You never knew what mood he’d be in. If his favourite team had lost a game, he’d return fuming, an active volcano slamming doors and swearing so loud it made you cringe with embarrassment that the neighbours would hear. On his happier nights he would be eerily quiet, but you could feel his fee fi fo fum energy coming up the stairs…alcohol running like a current through his veins, just one irritated moment away from getting nasty.

That’s how your mother described those nighttime hours fraught with paranoia and anxiety… “Keep your door closed sweetie or your dad might get nasty”. And yet she’d stayed with him all these years, too in love; too far into a deep hole of denial.

The relief you’d felt when you moved to college was unparalleled. You felt like a wave far out at sea, lapping and crashing undisturbed in a space that was entirely yours. A letter from your mother had arrived one day not long before graduation, letting you know she’d got the promotion she’d been chasing and would be working at a fancy bank closer to the city.

Your heart had leapt. You knew exactly what that meant—you’d been dreaming about it for months. Your now unemployed drunken Da would be upping sticks with her to a new house far away from you. You’d miss your mother of course, but if weeks at a time away from her meant exorcising your childhood home of him, you’d suffer the pain. She’d promised it would be your place anyway and you'd intended to make it perfect.

And perfect you’d made it. You'd spent the last few years ripping out the old kitchen, bathroom, master bedroom—anything permanent that served as a reminder of your father's leering presence. Long weekends spent in Yvette's rooms above the cafe embroidering cushions, painting landscapes and abstract nonsense to line the staircase, even testing out recipes from far-flung corners of the globe so that home cooking made your space smell like yours and yours alone. So much hard work, but it was empowering and proved you could take care of yourself; proved you could hold your own hand as a grown up, just like you'd had to all those years with the beast prowling around.

Yet all that focus on you and your haven had taken its toll on every serious attempt at a relationship since leaving college. Accusations of not wanting to commit, seeing someone else, even being too far up your own ass had followed you to mens' bedrooms (never yours) time and again. The last one had made you laugh. By that point you'd accepted you simply weren't ready for a boyfriend. You just couldn't let yourself trust that the next long-term male presence in your life would be safe. That was what it all boiled down to. You were still that frightened child, trembling under pretty pink covers, soothing whisky-stench nightmares by tending to her doll's house. Forever playing pretend. And none of the boys could see.

Except, maybe...

You sighed, refocusing on the task at hand. Drifting into a fantasy world was the last thing you needed right now.

7.54 pm.

The closet rail screeched as you gave in trying to be original and selected your outfit for the night.

It won’t be that bad, you thought. It’s going to be fine.

A little black dress sliding off its hanger.

So long as you keep it together.

And the sweet kitten heels.

It’s going to be fine…

✵

The temperature was comfortable as you made your way towards town, heels tapping rhythmically on the concrete and a gentle breeze whispering through your loose hair.

It was still light out, although the birds were calming and there were less people around than when you'd walked home after your shift. Nonetheless, you spotted a few stragglers here and there doing their best to clean up as much of the fallout from the last deluge before the next working day. It hadn't rained since lunch time, which at this point was nothing short of a miracle.

You'd caught the weather report before leaving for the night: clear this evening; clear tomorrow.

Wow, you'd thought. Could this actually be the start of summer?

Turning onto the street housing your journey's end, you peered up at Yvette's window. Her curtains were closed. You smiled to yourself. She was always back the night before. Never late. She loved her customers and her cafe too much to stay away for long, and lateness was practically immoral. No, she would be tucked up in bed watching Poirot until around 9, complete with a hot chocolate and a slice of leftover carrot cake Steven had saved for her. After that it was lights out. Many accidental sleepovers with paint up to your elbows and the soporific aroma of her vanilla-spiced perfume had taught you that.

You were in a better mood than before. In fact, you'd almost forgotten what you were worrying about as the thumping of a stereo to your left brought you to your senses.

But don't push me to the maximum

Shut your mouth and take it home

Cause I decide the way things gonna be

Okay, now you were excited.

Taking the steps to the main doors of the old Sunday school two at a time, you were met with the back of a delivery guy's head. Judging by the tower of boxes in his arms and, ugh, heavenly smell, the pizzas had arrived. You clutched your gurgling stomach, realising you hadn't eaten since the peanut butter sandwich you'd swallowed in a girlish daze after Kirk had left.

Hands fussing nervously up your torso to fiddle with the straps of your dress, you took comfort in the spare seconds you had unseen to make sure everything was in place. It wasn’t often you got dressed up, never mind agreed to hang out with a guy you actually liked, and there was no turning back now.

“Whewwww, that’s what I like to see.”

You looked up to see the delivery guy staring anywhere but your face. His arms were now empty and reaching out as if to pull you into a bear hug.

“You don’t wanna hang out with these losers do you, hon?”

Behind him, the guy who’d accepted the pizzas cleared his throat territorially.

“These losers are paying your wage tonight, buddy. Why don’t you get back on your bike and do your job.”

He placed the pizzas down on the ground beside him and straightened, arms crossed.

The delivery guy stiffened, your radar for conflict responding in kind. Your muscles locked in anticipation of an argument.

“Or shall I tell Ricky you’re shorting people their change again?”

The delivery guy ignored him. He shot a smug smile in your direction and swaggered around you, painfully slow, taking his time down the steps and back to his bike. He said nothing.

You watched him sidelong before returning your attention to the disgruntled customer, satisfied there would be no fight.

“You okay?”, he smiled, pure warmth bottled in his eyes.

Something told you this was Jason.

“Yeah”, you replied, tension melting from your limbs. “Um, Kirk said to meet him here ton—.”

“Oh it’s you!”, he interrupted. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here so early. Didn’t Kirk tell you he usually turns up late to these things?”

Early?? So much for your plan to be fashionably late. You felt like an eager schoolgirl now. And dressed like a hooker... And why did you wear your hair down? They were all going to think you were—

“Oh no it’s fine, you’re welcome to come in”, he laughed, no doubt noticing the checked out look on your face that usually indicated panic beneath the surface. “I’m Jason”.

Bingo. Kirk was good at describing people’s energy, that’s for sure. Another point in your book. Perceptive. Attentive. You’d be in love with him by the end of the night at this rate.

You shook off your prior anxiety and returned a laugh.

“Hey Jason. I’m sure I’ll survive a while without him. You want some help with these?”

Nodding to the stack of pizzas at Jason’s feet, an image of lunch time lit up your mind momentarily, fizzling out again like a sparkler. You smiled.

Assuming this was due to any receding awkwardness, Jason smiled even bigger, which made you smile even more, until you were both grinning as he thanked you and agreed to split the boxes, although he took more than half.

✵

Jason offered multiple apologies for various damp spots, cans of paint and trip hazards as you made your way in. The air was getting closer and almost sticky the further you went into the foyer, the music now thumping in your chest. Girlish giggles pierced the heavy bass at regular intervals and the smell of alcohol stung the inside of your nose. You shuddered, an all too familiar response. Then, as if passing the infernal gates and arriving straight into heavy metal heaven, the entrance area opened out into the main room you remembered from childhood.

Your jaw dropped. Strung from every available fixture were wrinkled clothes and sagging travel bags; six mid-sized tables had been pushed to the left wall and were currently littered with old takeout packaging and empty beer cans; instruments were somewhat more carefully propped up beyond them in the far corner against a small army of equipment trolleys, a shelving unit above stocked with possibly the most extensive record collection you’d ever seen. The carpet had been ripped up and a few windows sat propped open using piles of newspapers. (You silently thanked the guys’ common sense, as the breeze that entered provided a pleasant respite from the fuggy air just outside the doors. You didn’t think you’d have survived the evening without fainting had you been forced to suffer it all night.)

Kirk was right about removing the old furniture; the hundred or so chairs that used to fill the space like an assembly hall had dwindled to a dozen dotted here and there, mainly replaced by three leather sofas on your immediate left that were pulled in tight around a chipped coffee table you were pretty sure had been stolen from the staff kitchen. The right of the space was fairly empty, drawing attention to the expanse of flaking paint practically hanging off the wall. Tomorrow's job. You guessed this area would eventually become the studio setup.

Finally, straight ahead at the back of the room were the stage and heavy blue velvet curtains you’d hidden behind with friends as a kid, giggling and making undeserved jokes about the nuns while you waited your call to stride out stony faced and depict various scenes from the Bible. It was smaller than you remembered and untouched by the band. Above it, a pint-sized figurine of the Virgin Mary hung demure and unspoiled. It was the only unmoving, peaceful spot left in this now chaotic place.

Your reverie was interrupted as the evening’s cargo was lifted from your grip and set down on the coffee table. A grabbing frenzy started up as what seemed like a hundred pairs of hands tore the lids from the boxes and swooped in to claim a slice.

“Dive in”, Jason said to the group sarcastically, turning to you and rolling his eyes with a look that said what can you do.

“Five minutes and it’ll be gone, promise. You want a slice, you got to fight for it ‘round here.”

He smirked and jumped over the back of one of the sofas, landing next to a waifish girl who promptly snuggled into his chest, content with her slice. Your eyes roamed the mess of tangled limbs flung in various positions across the sofas. Another two girls, who looked like twins but realistically had just gone for the exact same look, had a band member each to themselves. Lars (head thrown back in laughter, just like the first time you saw him), held two slices one on top of the other while a red-taloned hand gently stroked and tugged the lengths of his hair. Across the table, James sat the other girl in his lap, laughing through a mouthful of pizza and holding her tight by the waist.

This girl you locked eyes with, and boy did she look like every Little Miss Popular you’d ever had the misfortune of crossing a school corridor with. Your throat tightened. She had a fiendish glint in her eye. She was about to make a comment—you could feel it.

Mary, help me…

“How you doin’ pretty girl?", she shouted over the music. "Someone made an effort tonight. You hopin’ to get lucky?”

The noise died down the slightest amount as heads slowly turned to face you. A tiny flicker of anger nudged you in the gut—how could she possibly know whether or not this was you making an effort—but you ignored it and returned a warm smile.

“Just dressed for a party, that’s all. Nothing special.”

“I’ll bet”, she replied, well-hidden poison nevertheless leaking from every fine line in her makeup; every crease she’d gained from snide smiles and viperous remarks over the years.

"Can it, Marth'", James squeezed the girl's waist, squeezing a horribly over the top giggle out of her at the same time. He met your eyes briefly with a faint look of camaraderie, jerking his head in greeting before turning back to his conversation with Lars. Marth shot you another snotty look and buried her face into the crook of James's neck. You had a feeling she wasn't done with you.

Luckily, the girl who sat with Jason was a friendlier sort. She called you over, grabbing your hand as you passed behind her and pulling you down onto the couch.

"Ignore her", she whispered in your ear. "She's only jealous 'cos she knows you're here with Kirk."

"But I—." She shushed you, eyeing Marth sideways with a look of tense worry, as if expecting her to produce snakes from her hair at any moment.

"She wanted him first. Got rejected. Very politely but rejected nonetheless."

Interesting. You'd never gotten a chance to get your own back on the cruel girls in high school, and despite your generally even-tempered, kind nature, you had to admit this was a confidence boost. Kirk had standards. And taste.

The girl cut in again before you could share your confession.

"I'm Claire by the way. You wanna beer?"

Crap, you thought. Here we go. You usually had a response planned based on the situation: I'm PMSing; I can't handle my drink in the heat—but tonight you came up short.

Claire was smiling at you expectantly. Little did she know there was a knot in your stomach growing tighter by the second. You wiped your sweaty palms on your legs and donned your best, most capable, carefree smile.

"Oh uh, no thanks. I don't really drink."

Motörhead, remember me now

Motörhead, it's only you now

Motörhead, only you, babe

Motörhead, yeah, yeah, yeah...

Silence.

You couldn't believe it. The song that had been bouncing full volume off the walls mere seconds ago had closed out right as you opened your mouth.

The air felt like it had been sucked out of the room.

Of course Marth heard immediately and let out the most condescendingly pitiful laugh.

"Oh sweetheart, how'd you expect to be a groupie if you won't drink a little?"

"Or a lot...", her ghoulish friend chimed in, both of them descending into a fit of laughter.

Lars was reclining with an amused smile. James was rubbing his temples like he'd heard all this before.

"I'm not a groupie and I have no intentions of becoming one tonight or ever, thanks." you shot back, glaring like something feral.

"Sure babe", Marth rolled her eyes. "Dressed like that and hanging out with a band on a work night? All for Kirk no doubt." Laughter again.

"Martha, enough!", James boomed.

You jumped, a lightning bolt of panic overriding your senses. Even Claire flinched. Men and alcohol. It was men and alcohol. Him. Again. Always and again.

Despite your best efforts to stay in control, you could feel yourself spiralling. A door banged somewhere. Someone entered or left. Had the windows been closed? It was so hot. Raised voices...

The ensuing argument was probably nothing more than a tiff, but your hearing was tinny and the edges of your vision were quickly turning black.

Everything muffled. Gasping for breath.

Thirty seconds felt like thirty minutes as you sat caged inside sensory overwhelm punctured with jolts of anxiety. To anyone else you likely appeared a little stunned and upset, oblivious to the chaos within.

More seconds passed. Sounds that might have been voices but could easily have been your own brain hummed and buzzed somewhere beyond your helpless body, which felt like it was shrinking to the head of a pin.

As you tried to steady your breathing, you calmed a fraction, staying earth-side long enough to notice a dark shadow crouched before you. It was barely recognisable through your swimming eyes as it placed a hand on your leg; then, a hand in yours. Warm, strong, grounding. You blinked the wetness away, now doing your very best to breathe normally and come back into the room.

“…over there?”

Definitely a voice.

“…to sit over there?”, it said again.

Breathe.

Your vision was clearing. You glanced at the hands gently squeezing your forearms and up past a Night of the Living Dead tee tickled at the shoulders by a familiar mass of dark, curly hair. Then, ahh. Those comforting brown eyes. Now your cage was for two, but the bars were melting and a cool mist settled in tiny stars on your face. You turned to see Claire, perfume bottle in hand, spraying what could only be tap water on every bare patch of visible skin she could find and watching you like Bambi.

You swallowed. A sorry laugh cracked your dry throat.

"I'm fine, Claire."

Suddenly, smothered. Man was this girl a tight hugger.

"Are you sure?", she asked, pulling away only to play with the ends of your hair. "God you looked so pale. You wouldn't reply or anything it was like you were d—."

"Claire", Jason stopped her. "C'mon, let's go for a smoke. Kirk's got her." He mouthed a sorry as he prised the bottle from his girlfriend's hand and set it on the table, steering her towards the door by the shoulders.

Kirk.

You turned to him, feeling vulnerable and worn out. His gaze was sincere, roaming, protective. You couldn't hold it. Right now you were eleven and wounded. And he could see it. You knew he could. Something connected you both and it was sending coded messages back and forth in the jumping air between you. A different song was playing.

You opened your mouth to speak and he shook his head. It's okay.

All the energy drained out of you then and he hoisted you up, kicking beer cans out of your path and smacking the head of a joking Lars with a curse and an admonishing glare as he moved you away from the scene. Lars swore back then quickly returned to the group banter. Nobody seemed to have noticed your mini meltdown; they were too tipsy to clock such fine details.

✵

Sat on the stage on some cushions Kirk had propped up for you, you watched him empty the contents of a duffel onto the ground near Lars's drum kit and rummage around. He retrieved a heavy jacket from the pile and jogged over to the others to grab a miraculously still full box of pizza. Both arms full, he returned, disappearing from view momentarily as he took the creaking wooden stairs back up onto the stage, handing you the pizza and muttering under his breath as he emptied a random assortment of stuff from the pockets of his jacket. Once satisfied, he slung it round your shoulders and pulled it tight at the front, practically tucking you in like a baby bird.

It was far from cold enough to warrant such a thick layer, even with the open windows and sitting up here on the draughty stage. But Kirk had mistook your post-anxiety shakes for shivering and leapt into action. Besides, the look on his face as he'd noticed had warmed you more than any jacket could.

"Kirk", you said softly. No response.

You grabbed his hands, forcing him to stop.

"It's okay," you smiled. "I'm comfy."

He examined you for a moment, then released his hands and threw himself down to your right, punching the cushions into a comfortable position and crossing his legs to face you.

"You sure you're okay?" His eyes again roamed yours intently, scanning for any signs of distress.

"Yeah I am now", you replied, tucking your hair behind one ear. "Thanks for this." It was a small lie but you'd survived worse panic sessions than that and wanted to forget about it.

Kirk nodded with a smile, somewhat reassured.

"So, what was going on over there?", he asked tentatively. "You looked pretty wiped out."

"Oh", you managed, clambering for an explanation that wouldn't lead to that topic. You didn't realise he hadn't heard your tee-total confession. The door you heard must have been him arriving.

"It was nothing, um. I dunno I just felt a bit faint. Hungry I guess. Need to get some of this in me." You laughed, flinging open the pizza box.

Kirk eyed you suspiciously, your attempts to cover up your discomfort too stilted to come off natural. The corner of his mouth quirked into a sympathetic smile but he said nothing. He didn't know you well enough to poke about for more info.

You silently thanked his perceptiveness.

He was quiet for a short time, tearing a slice for himself and rotating the pizza to leave the cheesiest side with you. A butterfly stretched its wings in your chest.

"Aw, the heart attack side for me?" You batted your lashes cartoonishly, confidence returning as your meal became the focal point instead of you.

Kirk's hand clutched his chest in mock offence.

"Excuse me Miss Picky, I went to culinary school I know what I'm doing."

Show off. "Oh really?"

"Yep, can make you anything your heart desires, just say the word."

"Hmm, ham and pineapple? Can you make that work?"

"Sure can."

You scrunched your nose.

"Umm potato salad? That's so bad, bleurgh."

"I could make you a potato salad so freakin' mind blowing you'd eat it for a year and thank me." He threw his head back, arms wide open and shaking like a man possessed.

"Oh Kirk, god of potato salad, more, more!"

You didn't care if you scared the roosting birds into tomorrow with the banshee laugh that pulled out of you, he was just so... You couldn't explain it. He was just so him. And the ache you usually carried with you, of an empty space beside you, was almost undetectable as you sat up here with him now on this dusty stage and laughed and joked.

Talk carried on in that fashion for a while, debating about what made a stellar grilled cheese and Michelin-standard spaghetti, you boasting with none too feminine glee how your breakfast muffins were the talk of the town and even your black coffees had men lovestruck at your feet.

Kirk's gaze stilled on your lips at that, rich pools shaded by those lovely curls.

"They sure do."

Your fingers grazed the dusty stage floor absentmindedly, pricks of static adding a pleasant thrill to the memory of this morning. You knew Kirk was thinking of it too. You'd been stealing glances at each other since he'd arranged the cushions for you; drawing freckles and dimples, jawlines and lashes in your minds' eyes to pull out later and colour in with imagined touches when you were both alone.

An hour or more passed much the same as you dove into each other's hobbies and interests, Kirk lighting up as he spoke at length about his guitar and the band's upcoming gigs, offering recommendation after recommendation of horror films, comics, and kickass albums; meanwhile you shared stories of your amateur art, not-so-amateur house renovations, and hilarious mishaps at Yvette's.

Listener gazed intently at speaker, hooked on the most mundane anecdotes like a sugar rush. The pizza was quickly demolished, Kirk kicking the box off the stage with the force of an Olympic curler once you'd plucked out the last crust, sending you both into fits of laughter. The cushions were rearranged, then your bodies, as you moved from crossed legs to laying on your elbows facing each other, closer in the absence of the pizza.

One song faded out and another started, both of you taking a minute to sit and enjoy the silence and nurse your ringing ears. You were lost in a joyful daydream about a disastrous performance of Jonah and the Whale about fifteen years ago, the nuns frozen in abject horror as they watched a group of nine year olds pull water pistols out of their tunics mid-song and announce war on the "watery beast", nevermind that it was a life-saving gift from God.

You smiled, intending to share the tale with Kirk. He was chewing his lip and watching Martha follow James to the window, now as many drinks deep as there were cans of Aqua Net in her crispy hair. He looked troubled. You waited, still buoyed up by your daydream and the night's conversation, and were about to touch his arm when he spoke.

"Hey look, I know Martha probably started all that before."

His focus was still on the others, where an intense make-out session was currently underway between Lars and Martha's friend on the sofa where you'd previously sat. James and Martha were engaged in a tense bickering session, Martha's beer spraying the window as her arms flailed. James looked wild eyed and under the influence. You looked away. That image was too close for comfort.

Jason and Claire stood in a drunken embrace in the middle of the floor, laughing with their heads thrown back as they pointed at the dusty chandelier bolted high above. They were slow dancing to the current track—a crooning metal song that sounded weirdly romantic, even if the opening line was there's fifty-two ways to murder anyone.

A slight smile touched your lips.

"Don't let her get under your skin, okay? Cos' I'm glad you're here. I mean, not as a groupie or anything..." A tinge of pink coloured his cheekbones. You caught a view of his long, dark lashes as his interest was briefly held by a speck of lint on his shirt.

You mirrored this action, suddenly shy yourself.

"Thanks", you mumbled. "I'm glad you invited me. And I...I don't want to be a groupie anyway."

Now he was interested. "No? Why not?"

A breathy laugh escaped your lips as you considered.

Yeah, why not? You'd be good at it after all. Can't keep a guy. Always hopping from one to the next. You may as well just own—

You pushed the intrusive voice into the recesses of your brain and let your eyes wander Kirk's patient face. You knew he wasn't going to judge you. Even so, it was an intimate topic...

"Well, I uh", an awkward laugh. "I don't think I'd be first pick looking like this". You hadn't seen yourself in a mirror since your anxiety attack and assumed there were muddy rivulets of mascara crusting your cheeks. Not to mention your hair felt distinctly frizzier on one side due to Claire's perfume baptism and you probably had tomato sauce around your mouth. The chances you looked like a swamp monster were high.

Kirk appeared not to concur with this negative self-assessment.

"C'mon", he challenged, his expression screaming seriously?

You blinked. Seeing your blank face, he propped himself higher on his elbow with a disbelieving laugh and crinkled brow. You looked away, spotlight burning your face.

"Sorry", he laughed again, gently. "But you're crazy." You scoffed. You were self-conscious and yet desperate to hear his opinion.

Kirk continued, "If that lot cleared out", he said, pointing lazily to indicate the other girls—though you were sure he wasn't including Claire—"the guys'd be all over you. I'd have to fight them off." He hooked the fingers of his free hand into a claw and pulled a face like one of the creatures on his shirt, eliciting another, albeit more restrained, giggle from you.

Calming, you locked eyes with him again. Your cheeks warmed. He was nodding, brows arched and lips pursed, enjoying the effect this revelation was having on you.

"Yep. It's not every day a girl with class turns up at these things you know. Even got here almost on time just for you." He winked.

"Class, huh?" You pumped your eyebrows suggestively, biting your lip and hamming up the Martha act.

He rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively, shy once more.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry", you laughed, tugging on his sleeve.

"I just... I don't think any of the guys I've dated would describe me that way."

A pensive gaze. Gears ticking in his brain.

"Yeah well, they clearly weren't seeing straight. Probably be bled dry on groupies if they were 'round here." A look of discontent hovered in his features for a second. Seconds ticked by as you considered him.

"You're really not into the groupies are you?"

He shrugged as best he could on one arm.

"I was, it's just...I mean some of them are great girls, like—not just sex, it's...". You let him think.

"It just wears out after a while, I dunno. It's not sustainable."

You nodded, sending him a comforting smile.

"Is that what you want then? Something, you know, long term?" A flash of possibility zipped through your brain; a picture of years from now. Who you might be. Who he might be. Who you might be together. You shook it from your mind. Not even twenty-four hours.

He closed up then, suddenly distant. You didn't think you'd said anything out of line.

"It's hard...trying to hold down something normal when you're in a band." He sounded so small. So young. You longed to reach out and comfort him with more than words.

"You gotta balance things. Make time for other stuff. I can't be here twenty-four seven."

Your stomach tilted, a wave of empathy for the sweet creature lay next to you. You didn't know what hidden things he was thinking about but you were grateful he was sharing all this. It was clearly personal.

You decided to push a little further, curiosity winning out.

"Is that why you were kinda late tonight?"

He looked at you, conflicted, as though urging you to keep pressing but simultaneously let him keep his privacy. You certainly knew that look. It eclipsed your features every time a guy asked why he couldn't stay over. Why it was always his place. You never told them. You let them try, then tire, then get frustrated and finally, leave.

"Just that Jason said you usually turn up late to these things. I thought—"

SMASH!

Sh-t.

The pair of you shot up. The ancient clock that had hung over the door to the foyer since the fifties was on the ground in pieces, chunks of yellowed glass standing to attention like stalagmites, others fallen chess pieces scattered in a radius of at least six feet.

Jason and Claire were nowhere to be seen and the girls were flat out on one couch, too much drink and too little pizza.

"You were meant to get a new nail for that, Laaaars", James staggered up from the adjacent sofa to inspect the mess.

"Was busy nailin' chicks, HA", Lars fired back, both of them absolutely wasted.

You erased the sight immediately. You didn't want nightmares after the best night you'd had in ages.

You hoped the death of the clock was your fairy godmother across the street defending the importance of an early night from her current jaunt in dreamland, rather than a bad omen, but luck hadn't been your destined bedfellow so far in life.

You brushed the crumbs from your dress with a sigh and stretched, standing up to collect your heels from where you'd tossed them a while ago and handing Kirk back his jacket. He followed your lead, shucking himself into the leather and rubbing the back of his head awkwardly as he waited for you to be done so he could focus on your face instead of your cleavage.

You straightened, the conversation of a few moments ago quickly receding into unreachable waters and remnants of the night's jovial tone returning to view.

"Guess that's a sign to head home", you shrugged, a nervous laugh overwhelming any other words. You didn't want to leave. You could sit on this stage all night with the boy stood before you until the stars twinkled and faded and a new day blossomed on the horizon.

But you also felt like a teen on her first date, overtly aware of your arms and legs, feelings and desires. How you were standing; what form the goodbyes would take. The things you'd said and everything you hadn't.

What were you now? Still acquaintances; friends; flirting partners? Would you still be welcome tomorrow? How were you gonna navigate the topic of your sobriety and the distress that came with it, should it re-emerge? You pushed it out of your mind. A task for another day.

Kirk kicked his cushions out of the way and offered a hand to walk you down the stairs.

"Yeah I might go soon too. Should probably clean that up so those assholes don't accidentally impale themselves." He rolled his eyes jokingly.

"Sorry that was your first impression of them. They're not all bad. Hope I left a better mark at least."

"You did", you replied, too eager.

He nodded, sucking his lip, a glint in his eye.

Outside on the steps he discretely pushed the offer to walk you home, eyes raking up and down the street for any signs of drunken idiots like the two inside. You declined with gratitude, taking a deep breath of the night air. It was fully dark now and the heat had broken. You felt refreshed, despite the nag of the goosebumps littering your arms and legs. Kirk noticed.

"Oh hey, keep this", he insisted, removing his jacket and draping it once more around your shivering frame.

"Thanks", you smiled, lashes downcast in anticipation of something more.

Would it happen?

Seconds passed on the concrete as two pairs of eyes glossed over the other's hair and cheeks, landing on yearning lips and drifting up again. Kirk took a half-step forward, the magnet in your sternum pulling you an inch closer, followed slowly by—

"Kirk!"

A sharp breath.

You both turned in the direction of the voice.

"Kirk! You gonna help or what cuz I c-can't hardly walk haha."

James was hanging off the doorframe and swaying like a tree in a tornado. You sighed, running a hand through your hair and taking a step backwards to leave. You finally felt tired.

You heard Kirk swear under his breath.

"Yeah James, f-ck. Just don't touch it. I'll be there in a minute."

He turned, the sight of you leaving knocking him into action. You felt an arm shoot around your elbow, balance nearly lost as you pressed your heels firmly into the ground.

You turned, smiling.

"Nine o'clock tomorrow. Don't worry, I know."

You pulled away from Kirk's tender grip and descended the rest of the steps, the smile never leaving your lips. The feel of his protective gaze resting softly on your back as you walked away never left until you were down the street and around the corner, out of sight.

#here she is #chapter two for all the Kirk girls #pacing's maybe a bit off idk #kirk hammett #jason newsted #james hetfield #lars ulrich #you jump i jump jack #kirk hammett fanfiction #kirk hammett fluff #kirk hammett x reader #kirk hammett x oc #hope you love this chapter! plz let me know your thoughts/feelings! :)

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scribble-system · 2 years

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School is soooo close, im not ready 💀

Its been a really fum summer, but I'm excited to see my friends again, and I'm excited to join the college program I'm going into! Literally only 3 more days until school.

I still need to pick out a first day out fit,,,

#scribbling

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rotzaprachim · 3 years

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the one and only cool research detail in the magnus chase series was Fadlan’s Falafel, presumably a call out to Ibn Fadlan the 10th century Arab diplomat and traveler who left eyewitness records of Volga Vikings lives and practices of ship burials....

#i personally think that the magnus chase series was rick's biggest dissapointment #it had so much fucking potential and to just make it a PJO knock off instead of creating its OWN characters #and leaning in to what could be really neat about norse mythology?????#its like valhalla is camp half blood 2 well OK excuse me for finding that JARRING AS FUCK when everyone there is DEAD i do NOT think a hall #full of the undead should have the same vibe as a summer camp...#he's like here's someone who died in the civil war here's someone who died because of an IRA car bomb during the troubles here's a drowned #homeless teenager.... FUM SUMMER CAMP VIBES AMIRITE FOLKS????#and look this isn't even beginnign to touch probably the single worst aspect of these book swhich is the portrayal of samirah #and the.... condescending lack of care towards portraying an arab muslim girl???? the way its so badly done #she also very very much should have been the main character

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cuz-reasons · 4 years

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My youngest sisters birthday is coming up in little over a week and I'm gonna try to get her a mola mola figurine on new horizons so guess what I'm gonna be doing all week

#shes turning 9 and mola molas are a fum joke between us cuz of this one app i had #anyways i really need to catch some f these bad boys and get CJ over #also im extremely excited to play the summer update tomorrow #enjoy my midnight ramblings

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cosmicphillie · 5 years

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officially said goodbye to julia :( it sad boi hours

#hopefully i’ll see her next summer but still :(#it’s so long and it was so fum #*fun #weronika talks #my wife ❤️

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useless-catalanfacts · 2 years

Audio

Today (25th of April) is the national day of the Valencian Country. It’s fixed on the date that commemorates the defeat at the Battle of Almansa, which marked the beginning of the occupation of the Valencian Country by Spain.

I’ve decided to translate the song Tio Canya by the Valencian folk band Al Tall. This song was published in 1976 and very quickly became a symbol for generations of Valencians who saw themselves reflected in the lyrics.

This song explains the process of language substitution as the band themselves had lived it during Franco’s fascist dictatorship of Spain (1939-1975). I’m sure that not only Valencians and other Catalans, but all occupied peoples will be able to relate.

Here’s the original lyrics in Valencian-Catalan and the translation to English:

En la pobla hi ha un vell en la pobla hi ha un vell que li diuen tio Canya: porta gorra i brusa negra, porta gorra i brusa negra, i una faixa morellana.

In the town there’s an old man called Canya: he wears a cap and a black blouse and a Morellan sash.

Tres voltes només va anar el tio Canya a València: primer quan va entrar en quintes i en casar-se amb sa femella. La tercera va jurar de no tornar a xafar-la; que a un home que ve del poble, ningú fa abaixar la cara.

Canya only went three times to València [the capital city]: the first time, when he was drafted [in the mandatory military service] and to marry his wife. On the third time, he swore to never set foot in it again; nobody can make a man from the village lower his head.

Set vegades va fer cua, set vegades va fer cua, en presentar uns papers, per no saber expressar-se, per no saber expressar-se, en llengua de forasters.

Seven times he stood in queue when he had to turn in some documents for not knowing how to express himself in the foreigners’ language.

Aguantà totes les burles, les paraules agrejades, i a la Pobla va tornar.

He bear all the mockery, the sour words, and went back to the town.

[Tornada / Chorus

Tio Canya, tio Canya, no tens les claus de ta casa: posa-li un forrellat nou o et farà fum la teulada.

Canya, Canya, you don’t have the keys to your house: change the lock or the roof will smoke.]

Tio Canya tingué un fill Tio Canya tingué un fill que li diuen tio Canya: porta gorra i brusa negra porta gorra i brusa negra, i una faixa morellana.

Canya had a son who is called Canya: he wears a cap and a black blouse and a Morellan sash.

Bé recorda el tio Canya quan varen portar-lo a escola set anys, la cara ben neta, ulls oberts, camisa nova. Però molt més va obrir els ulls el xiquet del tio Canya quan va sentir aquell mestre parlant de manera estranya.

Canya remembers well when they took him to school. Seven years old, washed face, open eyes, new shirt. But Canya’s child opened his eyes much more when he heard that teacher speaking in an unknown way.

Cada dia que passava, Cada dia que passava anava encollint els muscles per por a que el senyor mestre per por a que el senyor mestre li fera alguna pregunta.

Every day that went by, he shrinked his muscles because he was scared that the mister teacher would ask him a question.

Aguantà càstigs i renyes sens gosar d’obrir la boca i l’escola va odiar.

He beared punishments and scoldings without daring to say a word and he hated school.

[Repeat chorus]

Cròniques del carrer diuen cròniques del carrer diuen d’uns nets que té el tio Canya que són metges a València que són metges a València professors i gent lletrada.

The street accounts say that Canya has grandchildren who are doctors in València, professors and learned people.

Quan a estiu vénen al poble, visiten el tio Canya i el pobre vell se’ls escolta parlant llengua castellana.

In summer when they come to the town, they visit Canya and the poor old man listens to them speaking Spanish language.

Però cròniques més noves expliquen que el tio Canya ja compta amb besnéts molt joves que alegren la seua cara.

But newer accounts explain that Canya now has very young great-grandchildren who bring joy to his face.

Mai parlen en castellà mai parlen en castellà com han après dels seus pares, sinó com la gent del poble, sinó com la gent del poble la llengua del tio Canya.

They never speak in Spanish like they learned from their parents. Instead, they speak like the people, Canya’s language.

Reviscola, tio Canya, amb gaiato si et fa falta que a València has de tornar Tio Canya Tio Canya no tens les claus de ta casa: posa-li un forrellat nou, perquè avui tens temps encara.

Re-awaken, Canya, with a shepherd's crook, if needed, for you must return to València. Canya, Canya, you don’t have the keys to your house: change the lock, for today you still have time.

#país valencià #al tall #música #arts #tio canya #25 d'abril #minoritized languages #valencià #català #valencian country #minority languages #language revitalization #llengua catalana #llengua valenciana

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mossyzeer · 2 years

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So Cold...

Revivebur angst

There a was a time.. long ago.. where love would flourish as a flower in spring.. Now there was only tears as cold as winter against his hands.

You’re summer filled laugh that could brighten up a room was heard across the field. Long ago before L’manberg fell when it was only you, Wilbur, Fundy and dear Tommy. Long before poor children had to die. Long before you were lost. _____________________________________________________________

those 13 years stuck on that stupid platform was a ‘pain in the ass’. though that was only an understatement. On that platform the only thing on his mind was you, and only you. His dear Y/N the one who helped him raise his son after she left. The only one able to calm Tommy down with kind words, The one everyone went to for a shoulder to cry on.

The plan was simple as soon as he gets out of that hell he’d find you, hug you, kiss you, and never let you go. The plan was simple but how did he forget about you in the rush he had when he first respawned into the open world. Off the train he decided to preach his god! His savior! Dream! He came down from his high as soon as he realized his god was in Pandora’s vault.

He took his anger out on others, never taking the time to see the hurt in their eyes when looking at him. Not for the words he spews at them, but for what he’ll become when he hears you. ____________________________________________________________

Tommy, my brother! You have got to help me with this plan. Tommy was once again the center of his words. Wilbur failed to notice Tommy was clearly upset today.

If silence could kill then Wilbur would be dead. for the fourth time. Isn’t it rude to ignore someone when they speak to you Toms.

just like that The 6′6 male landed on the ground with a punch coming from the dear boy. You stupid bitch how could you want the stupid green twirler out of prison! Tears coming out of the dear boy had Wilbur holding his breath. After everything he did to Y/N one would think their lover would want dream in there more than anyone!

Fumming the child stomps off leaving Wilbur on the ground. Hair over his eyes having him show no emotion. All that was going on in his head was enough to make him cry. no one needed to see it too.

Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. The only thing that was swirling around in his mind. How could he forget his true love, the one that truly saved him.

ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕪 𝔹𝕦𝕣𝔹𝕦𝕣? wiping his head around ready to yell at who ever said his sweets nickname at him.

all air left his lungs looking at you from the ground. you weren’t even looking at him but his world had already crashed.

Your ripped clothes that barely cover you wasn’t the thing that brought him to tears, it wasn’t the :) carved all over your body wasn’t even close.

It was the fact you could never be able to see him again, the fact your body was cold and frozen, your voice no longer full of summer.

COLD BLOOD SEEMING TO DRIP OUT OF YOUR HOLLOW EYE SOCKETS FALLING DOWN IN FRONT OF HIM BEFORE SEEMING TO DISAPPEAR DURING AIR.

He would never be able to see the sun again during his sadden days for as long as his summer was gone.

“Y-Your Burbur is. is right here bubs.”

AUTHOR NOTES

than you all for reading! hope the angst is to your liking ;p

here is the angst your royal highness @mossinacave

#wilbur x reader #reader angst #sfw #i will cry #dreamsmp #dream smp #revivebur #ghost reader

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nightlilly0110 · 3 years

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Summer: If you’re over 5'11", sorry, your pronouns are fe/fi/fo/fum.

Qrow: If you’re under 5'11", your pronouns are oompa/loompa/doompety/doo.

#rwby #source: tumblr #platonic hummingbird #summer rose #qrow branwen

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years

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Night at the Asylum: A Dave Anthony Horror Fic.

Warning: Suicide, Disturbing Themes, Gore, Torture.

Tom and his friends; Julia, his girlfriend and two other guys, Mark and Carlos were in front of the Waverly Hills Sanatorium, backpacks and videocameras with them. It was summer and they just finished the second year of college, and decided to do something interesting, a short movie perhaps, since Tom was on the filmography class.

"I don't know man. This place looks desserted and its frickin' huge." Carlos said, and all he got in return was a roll of eyes from Tom.

Julia didn't wanted to come, since all the stories and urban legends of this place gave her the chills, but she wasn't going to let her boyfriend down.

"Its just one night to prove that there is nothing here but garbage. So, lets go. We have everything we need for tonight." Tom told them and began to march up the big steps of the principal entry, with the three following him.

He pushed the double doors open and stepped inside, the disgusting smell hitting his nose.

"Jeez! Somebody died here?" Mark said, putting his hand on his mouth and nose, his hazel eyes looking up at the big, impossing interior.

"And to think here died over 5,000 people." Julia said in a quiet whisper.

"I think they said they were over 10,000." Carlos interjected.

"Wanna look over this place? I think the cabinets where the doctors kept their files is on the second floor." Tom said, moving up the steps, carefull.

The place looked empty, save for everything that a hospital needed to have, now covered in dirt, bugs and other nasty looking stuff.

After 30 minutes of searching the room with the files and hystory of the Asylum, they finally found it. The Office looked strangely more fresh than the hallways and rooms where the patients resided.

The four began to look through the files, looking for information that might be helpful.

"This place held over 8,000 patients. Dude, that's almost impossible." Mark said, sitting down on the desk, a file in hand.

"I heard that there were much more, but the deads were so many that they created a death tunnel where they transported the bodies." Tom commented, looking over the shelvs that held books upon books of informations about the former patients.

Julia took one and began to brows the files, until a file fell from the book that held the profile of a patient. She crouched down to pick it up, her eyes scanning over the name.

"Dave Anthony?" she said, more so asked and the guys turned to her.

"Who's that?" Tom asked, coming to her side to see what she was reading.

"I heard of him. He is a local legend more so, but yes, he was a former patient here, very unstable." Carlos explained to them

"I thought this Sanatorium held people sick of tuberculosis, not the insane ones." Tom spoke, looking over at Carlos, urging him to tell them more.

"Yes, he was sick, but also sick in the head. I read about him. I heard he killed over 50 people, maybe more, he also raped his wife and killed her and after he set fire to a neighbours house." Carlos told them and he could tell that Julia was affected by the story, by the look in her eyes.

"But its just an urban legend ya know! I also heard that he was so dangerous, the doctors and nurses moved him into the death tunnel, chained him to a wall and left him there to die." Carlos spoke into a creepy voice, trying to scare his friends.

"Very funny? You sure have an imagination." Tom rolled his eyes, looking over at Julia to make sure his friend didn't scared her.

"Oh, but that's not all. After one week a nurse came in to see if he was still alive. He was dead, but he wrote a message on the wall with his own blood.... 'I will be back'." Carlos finished and laughed.

Mark hit him upside his head, telling him to cut it out.

After they more search, it started to get dark and they decided to move into the main room for the night.

"Do you think the story is true?" Julia asked Tom, who put an arm over her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

"Its not true. Tell her, Carlos." Tom spoke and he was tapped on the shoulder by Mark.

"Umm... Guys. Carlos is not here." Mark said with a concerned face.

When they all turned around, indeed Carlos wasn't behind them.

"I think he wants to scare us. Carlos! Come on! Cut the bullshit." Tom said, walking back down the hallways, followed by his girlfriend and Mark.

"Damn Carlos and his stories." Tom muttered under his breath, turning from corner to corner down the dark hallways, until there was a scream, making them all freeze in fear.

"W-Was that Carlos?" Julia asked in a shuttering voice.

Tom followed with his friends on the sourch of the scream and they stopped in front of a door with a small window glass. When they looked through it, they felt paralized. Behind the door was Carlos, strapped on a surgical table that looked like it was used for the theraphy with electroshocks. A set of what looked like headphones was on Carlos head, said headphones connected to an industrial machine that gave him shock after shocka, blood starting to drip from his mouth.

"Help! Oh God! Help me!" he screamed, spitting more blood, his eyes bloodshot.

"We have to help him!" Mark screamed, tugging on the door handle, but it was locked. They continued to bang on the door and it finally unlocked itself, but by the time they entered the room, fums were coming from Carlos head, his mouth hanging open as pink foam came out of his mouth.

"T-This cannot be happening!" Mark screamed, tears running down his face as he looked over at his dead friend.

"We have to get out of here. Now!" Tom finally said, grabbing Julias hand and leading her out of the gruesome scene with Mark running after them.

When they entered a hallway, all the glasses of the windows from the doors, pitch black hands with claws coming out. They continued to run, until Mark screamed, one of the hands had grabbed onto his arm roughly, digging their claws into his flesh.

"Help me! Guys!" Mark screamed, pain shooting through his arm.

The black arm tugged on him and his back meet the door, more hands coming out of the door and tearing at his flesh, blood following out and onto the dirty tiles of the hallway.

Julia began to sob into Toms chest, who hugged her tightly to his body.

"We have to move on. He is dead." Tom said, running with Julia to find the exit. They moved so deep into the Asylum that they got lost down the maze of hallways.

They continued to run, until Tom stopped, a loud gasp coming from his mouth and he clunched his stomach in pain.

"Tom! Are you alright!?" Julia asked, crouching down next to him.

He grinded his teeth as he felt an deep pain into his back. He tugged on the back of his shirt and Julia gasped, putting her hands over her mouth; deep scratches filled her boyfriends back, red rivules running down.

"Julia! You have to get out! Now! Something is wrong!" Tom screamed, clunching his head as pain filled his body.

Julia was frozen in fear of what was happening and she stepped back as a row of black spikes shot from his spine. Tom turned to her, his once blue eyes were a pitch black, making Julia take small steps back.

"Tom?" she asked, her breathing getting ragged.

He crouched down, his brown hair turned a snow white, his skin getting a sick look and his nails got sharp and a black color.

"No Tom." his voice got deeper, sounding like more than one person was speaking.

Before she knew it, he lunged at her, knocking her down with him on top of her. His mouth forming a dark grin, the skin at the corner of his mouth starting to rip and a set of sharp teeth pecked from behind pale lips.

"What's the matter Julia? Don't you love me?" he asked in a mocking fashion, his sharp nails, running down the tiles next to her head.

"W-Who are you?" she asked, tears running down her face as she looked up at her former boyfriend.

"Why, you don't know me? You just read my files some hours ago? Such a short memory." he said and her eyes widened, catching on.

"D-Dave? Dave Anthony?" she asked in a quiet whisper, making the entity chuckle.

"In flesh and bones of your boyfriend!" he laughed and gripped her neck tightly.

"I am gonna have so much fun with your soul." he whispered, running his mouth down her neck and to her ear, taking a deep breath of her.

"My, my. Looks like your boyfriend didn't took your innocence..... Fucking pussy." he smirked down at her, now his form completly changed.

He was tall, over 7'0 and smelled of death. Julia began to sob and pray to God, closing her eyes, then she quickly opened them when Dave punched the tile beside her head, cracking the floor.

"Fuck God. There is no God here. I am, you dirty little whore." he glared down at her and like a lightning hit her, she moved from under him, running down the hallways to find the exit, the poltergeist laughing behind her.

"Run, Julia! You can run but you cannot hide!" he screamed at her, then a maniacal laugh echoed through the building.

Julia turned corner after corner, unt she finally found the exit, throwing the doors open and stumbling down the stairs, running to the car and driving away into the night.

After 3 months...

Life after the night at the Sanatorium wasn't the same for Julia, paranoia was following her everywhere, hearing voices, having nightmares. She was turning insane and her parents decided to move her into an Asylum into her home-town. She refused to eat, to even go out of her room, saying that he was following her, that he was going to kill her.

One night she was laying in bed and praying, then she felt a cold presence tower over her form on the bed.

"Still praying to God? Pathetic." the raspy voice spoke into her ear and she felt a cold and black substance drip onto her face.

"Please... Leave me alone. Don't kill me." she begged, tears running down her bony cheeks.

"Kill you? Not now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next week. Probably next hour." Dave chuckled darkly, his black eyes looking down at her, his claws ripping the white bedsheets.

Then just like that he disapeared and the next thing made Julia scream. He was creating deep gashes into her back, then her chest. She couldn't tale it anymore.

Her teary eyes looked up at the bars on the windows then at the bedsheets.

Next day...

Julias parents were on the hallway, at the reception of the Asylum, crying and couldn’t believe that their daughter was dead. She just comited suicide yesterday at midnight, hanging herself on the bars of the window.

The doctors told them that she had intense paranoia and depression, probably because her boyfriend broke up with her.

After the suicide they moved the body from the room and a nurse came in to clean up. She swore the room was much colder than the other spaces of the building.

After she was done, she felt a cold breath down the back of her neck and a rattling of chains.

Slowly, she turned around and she dropped the dirty bedsheets, her eyes wide open looking into pitch black ones.

Before she could scream a black hand with claws moved over her mouth.

"Ah, ah, ah... Now, be a good little girl and don't scream. Will ya?" The poltergeist spoke, his mouth opening and a black long tongue came out of between rows of shark teeth.

The nurse was trembling, her back flush against the door of the room.

"Elizabeth? That's a cute name." he chuckled and the nurse couldn’t believe that he knew her name.

The man or more so the creature was tall, towering over her small frame. Her eyes widened when something crawled out of the entitys mouth, it was black with many legs; a centipede.

The creature moved from the demons mouth and fell down on the floor between the two. Elizabeths legs began to shake when the centipede crawled up one of her legs and under the white nurse skirt.

Green eyes widened and a silent scream left her lips, feeling the slimy thing move between her legs and inside her.

Dave smirked down at her, the centipede disapering inside the nurse, her face paralized in fear.

"I wanted to do this to Julia, but she killed herself. Eh, her lost." Dave grasped her chin roughly, his eyes looking deep into her own and she began to whimper, feeling something inside her.

"That's just something for you to always remember me. See you real soon." And with that he disapeared.

Elizabeth fell down on the white tiles of the room, tears running down her face as a laugh echoed into her head.

The message was clear 'I will be back'.

Authors Note: My first time writing Dave Anthony, my poltergeist OC. I almost forgot how to write supranatural things, but its quit fun.

#Dave Anthony #Horror characters #Horror story #Poltergeist #Demon #Ghost #Evil Entity

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antman-56 · 3 years

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The Long Night PT 28

The walk to the fair was abit of a challenge for Qrow.

He felt uneasy as Summer lead him to their destination. Then again he was a tall man being lead by a small girl, so maybe thats what was put him off.

"Qrow? What are you thinking about?" Summer asked.

"Oh just fell little weird."

Summer felt a jab in her mood but she would have to fix that.

"Why's that?"

"Its just... I feel like where being watched."

"Well people are seeing a cute girl leading a poor sap like you."

"Hey!"

Summer laughed and Qrow gave her a look of slight betrayal.

"Well if it makes you fell any better were going to the fair by 216th."

"A fair? But aren't those things expensive?"

"Yep and don't worry we have this. (She shows SDC card) So we can do almost anything there."

She smiled more at the thought and Qrow looked happy to hear the news.

"Now you can win me something without worrying about your wallet."

Qrow chuckled. What a brat.

***Hidden near them***

Alvin and Lenny were over on the next street.

"Dude can we go? This is making me uncomformable."

"Alvin do you want to go out with her or not?"

Alvin sighed.

"That's what I thought. Now shut up and watch cause gods know I am."

Alvin glared at his friend but nonetheless continued to observed the two.

"Thier walking to the fair."

"So it's a date?"

"We still need more info."

"I'm starting to think you get off on following people."

***Fair grounds***

After Qrow and Summer paid for admission and went to an atm to draw out some linen.

She then lead him towards the carnival tents.

"Step right up! Step right up! And win any of these AMAZING prizes!!!"

The game he was advertising was to shoot some Grimm pop up that moved.

"Oh Qrow can you win a bear for me!" She said aloud.

"Yeah kid. Try and knock down the Grimm and win a prize for the lady!"

Qrow looked at Summer and she gave him the signature puppy dog eyes.

Qrow (begrudgingly) forked over 5 linen and grabes the toy gun.

Not even looking he took a shot.

It hit the target but didn't drop.

"Oh!!! To bad kid."

"What the hell I hit the thing!"

"Well it didn't fall over, so you don't get the bear."

Qrow looked the now smirked face of the swindler in the eye, growled, and slammed another 5 linen on the table.

Summer seeing this unfold is now regretting what she had done.

After 10 tries and 10 hits the Grimm still stood up.

Qrow was fumming with repressed rage. The con man was counting the linen in his hands that Qrow gave.

"Hate to break it to yeah kid but you have a terrible shot." Now with a tooth pick in his mouth.

"Maybe I should try!" Summer said with a little excitement.

She handed the man 5 linen and took her shot.

The Grimm fell.

"Congrats sweet heart." He hands her the stuffed bear. "And this is for whenever you want to be with a winner." He slipped a piece of paper with some numbers on it.

"I just got played."

"Yeah it was obvious on the first shot."

"And you let me do it! 10 TIMES!!!"

"You needed to learn but hey I got my bear and you helped."

She gave him a hug.

"And the assholes number."

She still had the paper.

"We can give it to a police officer and explain the situation."

He nodded at her answer.

"Now come on, I'm pretty sure their are other games your good at and some rides."

She grabbed his hand and lead him to the next tent.

***A Few Hours Later***

After the swindle the other tents were more honest and half the rides seemed to be out of order all of a sudden.

Summer still had the bear and the number of the asshat was now in the possession of the nearest officer.

Qrow's stomach began the grumble.

"Looks like your hungry."

"Can you not talk to me like I'm a child."

"Well I guess someone doesn't want to eat."

Qrow sighed. "So anyplace in mind?"

"La Blam."

"Sounds fancy."

"It is and I feel like we deserve a bit of a reward for the time we've been here."

Qrow anticipated Summer's next move and extended his hand so she can grab it faster.

After a couple of minutes walking and talking about the fair and other commodities. They reached their destination.

La Blam was nothing they both have seen. It was a mansion with tall windows, a balcony on the front side of the building, a fountain in front of the doors going in, and the people entering by were dressed formal.

They felt like they didn't belong here.

"Welcome to La Blam do you have a reservation."

"Yes under Rose."

"Alrighty just give me 5 minutes to see if a table is ready."

As the hostess left Qrow looked at Summer.

"When did you make a reservation?"

"A week ago. This place is fancy and I thought a team dinner would would be a go reward after the tests but that went out the window. I just didn't want this thing to go to waste." She lied.

It was double to make a last minute reservation for this place and a whole lot of pleading.

"Oh. Well let's eat for those two and then brag how good the food was."

Summer giggled.

Suddenly the hostess returned.

"Alrighty, please follow me."

As soon as they entered it was like a whole new world. Men in suits and women in dresses. They all varied in color and style but one thing was clear. They were not welcomed. Convertions stopped abruptly, some stared, others gave their opinions loudly to others and so on.

"Your table is here."

The hostess lead them to the table near the restrooms.

"Thank you." Summer smiled.

The hostess left the menus and walked away.

"Well that was fun."

"It may not be the ideal setting I was imagining but it's still nice."

Qrow looked at Summer and could swear he could see a mini version of her screaming.

He wasn't half wrong.

Summer was holding herself together. She requested a table by a window but she didn't want to complain. She knew they could have refused her outright so take what you can get.

"So any idea of what to get?"

"The steak looks interesting but I don't know what to drink. Everything sounds like a child's first words."

"Well this one looks like it has strawberries in so I'll try it and this one has an orange next to it if you want it."

"You never lead me wrong so you order my drink."

After a few minutes of ideal chit chat a waiter arrived and they both placed their orders.

"Man I hope the foods good as it sounds."

"Qrow have I ever lead you wrong?"

He sighed and Summer took that as her answer.

***Outside***

"Lenny it's a date can we go?"

"Sure I guess. Sorry it didn't work out."

Alvin sulked his shoulders and Lenny put his arm around him.

"Don't pout sour trout. Their are better fish out their and maybe you could mount a better mare."

"What the fuck."

"You try rhyming off the spot."

***Back inside***

After placing their orders Qrow and Summer started to hear a commotion.

"How long is it going to take for my lobster tails?!"

"My apologizes sir but it will be a little while longer."

"That's purposterous. We have been waiting for the last a half hour."

"I'll go check on your order."

Qrow and Summer winced as the poor waiter speed walked back to the kitchen.

"I see the people treat the staff nice."

"Let's hope they don't try and get him fired."

TSSS

AAAAHHHH

The duo turned to see a waitress on the floor and 2 woman covered in food.

After that they see a choir of chiefs and staff run out the kitchen and one of them running for the fire extinguisher and run back into the kitchen.

"I think we should go."

"Yeah I think we should."

The duo got up and quickly went for the door.

And they weren't the only ones. A horde of angry people walked for the door all the while the manager was asking people to go back to their seats and they will be compensated for their time. All to no avail.

The duo were now outside the restraunt

"Well that sucked."

"Not what I had planned."

"And we didn't even get our food."

"I know."

"Want a find a food truck."

Summer smiled.

"Lead the way and then we have to see the Atlas lights."

#summer rose #rwby au #rwby #qrow branwen #my ocs #long night part 28

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atths--twice · 4 years

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Hey hey hey! Hope you’re having fun with this series, I know I did and I am.

Here is a little happy moment in their lives, in between the seventh and eighth month of pregnancy. Happy reading!

Peaceful Relaxation 4/6

Mulder and a pregnant Scully, relaxing in a hammock, content in this moment of their lives.

August 2018

Mulder stepped into the backyard, a glass of sparkling grape juice in his hand, and walked towards Scully. She was lying in the hammock he had surprised her with a couple of days ago.

She had been sleeping on the couch recently, her ever expanding belly causing aches in her hips and back. Their bed was comfortable, but for right now, she claimed the couch felt better on her aching bones.

Two nights of her sleeping downstairs, and he did some searching online, finding that a hammock could be beneficial to alleviate some of her pain. Driving out to the store, he had purchased the best one he could find, after many questions to the salesperson.

He had brought it home, determined to put it together on his own before she came home from her shift at the hospital. The amount of pieces and work involved was daunting, but glancing at the clothesline he and Mrs. Scully had installed a couple of years ago, he knew he could do it.

And he had. Meeting her at the door with a grin, he had taken her bag and set it down before grasping her hand and bringing her to the backyard to present it to her. Her smile and happiness was worth the two small cuts he received from being inept when it came to using tools.

Her shoes had come off and he helped her to lie down as she sighed deeply, her head on the pillow he had also purchased. He watched her smile, her eyes closed, the warm wind blowing her hair, her hands clasped above her stomach.

“This is perfect, Mulder. Lay down with me,” she had said softly, moving her hand to pat the spot beside her, eyes remaining closed. He smiled and went to do her bidding, lying beside her and listening to her breathing contentedly, happy he could do something to help.

Stepping over to her now, he stopped short, seeing her eyes closed and hearing her breathing slow and steady. Not wanting to wake her, he turned to leave, when her hand shot out and stopped him.

“If that’s my grape juice, don’t even think about walking away,” she said, opening one eye to look at him. He grinned and squatted beside her, handing her the glass and pushing the straw toward her lips. She took a long drink and moaned as she swallowed. “God, that’s so good. I don’t think I can adequately describe to you the desire I have for it. It’s so strong and when I finally get it, it’s just… mmm.” She took another long drink and the glass was empty except for the ice tinkling at the bottom.

“Would you like some more? I could get you some. Quench that desire for you,” he said, her words carrying a double meaning for him and causing his mind to race. “I do enjoy you being thoroughly satisfied.” She laughed and closed her eyes as she shook her head.

“I’m good for now.”

“Well, if you need anything, I mean anything, you let me know. I’m here for all your needs,” he assured her as he stood up to take the glass back inside.

“You take that glass inside and then come lay beside me, that’s what I need.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He walked towards the house, glancing back to see her running her hands over her stomach, and he smiled. Opening the back door, he decided to bring out some snacks and the bottle of grape juice so he would not need to get up again.

Packing the bottle of juice and lemonade for himself into an insulated bag, he dumped in some ice. Placing disposable cups, straws, crackers and chips into a bag, he opened the door and stepped back into the warm afternoon.

He set the items down and slipped off his shoes, sitting down carefully and then lying beside her. As he did, she turned onto her side, put her head on his shoulder, and reached for his left hand.

“Feel right here.” She smiled and put his hand on the side of her stomach. He waited and was soon rewarded with a swift kick under his hand. Smiling, he gently rubbed his thumb across her stomach, hoping to feel it again.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm, not too bad. But even if it did, I would welcome it,” she said softly and he nodded, knowing that of course she would. He watched her face as he waited and when he felt it again, she smiled happily.

“I love you,” he said quietly. She pulled back and looked at him, scrunching her chin with a smile, her eyes so blue.

“I love you too.” She held his gaze and he nodded, smiling at her as the hammock moved gently in the breeze. Holding onto his right arm, she put her head back on his shoulder.

He kept his hand on her stomach, moving it as he felt the baby moving around inside of her. “Moving a lot today,” he said, in awe of the life they had created.

“Mm-hmm,” she breathed and he smiled, knowing she was nearly asleep. She was tired more easily these days, napping often and always apologizing for it, though he repeatedly told her to stop.

He closed his eyes, moving his hand to his own stomach, and took a deep breath. It was warm in the shade of the late afternoon, the wind blowing just enough to keep it from being unbearable.

A soft snore caused him to open his eyes and smile. She would deny it, had in fact done so in the past when he teased her about snoring, but he knew she did when she was very tired. Moaning, she moved slightly and breathed deeply again. He smiled and closed his eyes again, feeling in need of a nap of his own.

The grass was taller and smelled sweet as spring began to make way for summer. He heard Scully call to him and he turned around, seeing her on the porch swing and pointing to his left with a smile. He nodded and headed in the direction she had pointed.

“Fe fi fo fum,” he growled, stomping his feet as he stepped deeper into the grass. “I will catch you, so you better not run.” Hearing a giggle to his left, he kept walking, knowing she was out there somewhere.

“I will find you little girl. I will find you and tickle you.”

“You have to catch me first, Daddy!” she called and he saw the grass moving ahead of him to the right. Quickening his steps, he saw the back of her before the grass swallowed her again.

“Oh… I was so close, but now I’m on your tail. It won’t be long until I find you.” She giggled louder and he stomped toward her and parted the grass. Finding her crouched down with her hand on her mouth to quiet her laughter, he bent down and stared at her, her blue eyes shining.

She moved her hand and jumped into his arms. “You found me, Daddy. You did such a great job!” He grinned as he held her tightly and stood up, rocking her as her legs dangled down, swinging from side to side.

“I will always find you, my sweet girl. Always.” He turned around and started back to the house.

“Even if I was far away? Or hiding somewhere you’ve never been?”

“Always. No matter what.”

She held him tighter and he heard her sigh with happiness. Smiling, he looked up to see Scully standing at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed, and a smile on her face.

“Well, it looks like you’ve been found, little one. Did you have fun?” Scully asked as they walked up the steps and he set her down.

“I did. Daddy founded me. He’s a good finder.”

“That he is,” Scully agreed and smiled at him, her eyes shining; like mother like daughter. “How about a snack? Something yummy?”

“Yeah! Carrots and celery, please,” she said, pushing one of her long dark braids over her shoulder, opening the screen door, and stepping inside the house.

“Ugh, how is she my child when she asks for stuff like that?” he asked and Scully laughed, patting him on the chest.

“Can I have a cookie too?” They both turned and saw her face pressed into the screen with a hopeful grin.

“See, now that’s more like it! My girl! Yes, you may have a cookie.” He clapped in excitement and they both laughed.

“Mulder…” Scully warned and he looked at her. “Mulder…”

“Mulder! You’re snoring.”

His eyes flew open and he exhaled a breath. Expecting them to be on the porch, he was surprised to find that they were lying on the hammock, the sun just beginning to set. He looked at her, one hand on her belly, the other holding his own and he exhaled again.

“You okay?” she mumbled, squeezing his fingers.

“Yeah… just having a dream. Sorry about the snoring.”

“No need to apologize.”

He shook his head, his dream lingering still, leaving behind a feeling of deja vu. He was sure he had dreamt something similar many years ago.

A little girl running through the grass, the way it felt when she wrapped her arms around his neck, the happiness it brought him. Those blue eyes staring at him, so full of love.

“Hmm, we should probably head inside soon,” Scully breathed and he was brought back to the present. Moving his hand, he placed it gently on her stomach. “I think she’s sleeping. Looks like we all took a nap.”

He heard the smile in her voice and he smiled too, leaving his hand there and thinking of that little blue-eyed girl. If his dream was a premonition, if he was somehow seeing what would be, he could not wait.

“A few more minutes, Scully. Let’s see what colors the setting sun has in store for us today,” he said, rubbing his hand slowly across her belly, happy and content in the moment.

“No complaints on my end,” she agreed, covering his hand with hers and sighing.

Red, orange, and pink filled the sky before they rose carefully from the hammock. He brought the food and drinks they did not eat back into the house, as Scully walked ahead of him and stretched by the table.

He grinned as her shirt rose up a little and her belly was exposed. So beautiful, she was so beautiful. She caught him grinning and he shook his head, causing her to smile back as she lowered her arms.

“Dinner?” she asked and he nodded, turning on the oven to reheat last night’s leftovers. “I’m going to take a bath. I’ll be down in a few.” He nodded and she walked upstairs.

Crossing the room, he opened the front door and then the screen. How odd it would have been to step through and find dream Scully on the porch, that little face pressed to the screen asking for cookies.

He looked around the porch, shaking his head at the realness of it all. His gaze landing to his left, he decided right then to find a porch swing and hang it, providing a place for them to relax. How had they not done so yet? The space was perfect.

Nodding, he added it to the list of things he needed to finish before the baby was born. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, the night air warm as the crickets began to sing. He smiled, the memories of the dream taking away any fear or worry he may have had.

They were going to be okay; all of them. This was the life they had always been meant to have, it had just taken them a few tries to finally get it right.

“You found me, Daddy. You did such a great job!”

He opened his eyes and breathed deeply once more. “Yes, I will always find you.” He nodded and stepped back inside, leaving the door open, allowing the breeze to blow softly through the screen and into the house.

Putting the dinner in the oven, he smiled again. “And I will give all the cookies you could ever want. Just don’t tell your Mommy,” he whispered, glancing up, knowing Scully would not have been able to hear him. “I can’t wait to meet you, but you take your time.”

He remembered the sound of her happy giggle in the sea of the tall green grass, the feel of her in his arms, and the sweetness of her little voice. His girl.

“Take your time, Sweetie. I’m not going anywhere.”

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post MSIV #Fluff and Happiness #So much fluff #Relaxation and rest #Dreams of the future #Domestic Fluff #Domestic Life

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