summary ; never thought you would come back here, especially meeting your old lover here.
a/n ; i like the theory that dogday is possessed by rich, so we finna roll with that
warnings ; slightly gore, cussing, reader is a female but can be read as any gender, mention of divorcing, lowkey short
APRIL 6TH, 1991
“are you sure you need to go to work?” you plead, but to no refusal was coming out of him. he was quick to put his work clothes on, ignoring any pleading that had came out of your mouth. he was surely a pain in the ass.
today was yours and rich’s wedding anniversary, but of course, work comes first, and when they gave him a call asking if he could monitor the new shipment, he was quick on his feet.
it wasn’t common for rich to drop everything and go to that factory, hell, he was so close to dipping out the wedding, but before his mother threatened to take away all the inheritance he was gonna get if she ever died.
it was like his job mattered more then you did, and it hurt. the truth always hurt.
either way, the job of his was weird. it was a factory that specialized in children’s toys, and rich was one of the workers there. everyday when he would come home, he would complain on and on again on how terrible the work conditions were at his job, yet, he would do anything for that job.
“yes, i have to.” he replied, putting on his badge, which had a personalized name tag along with it.
sighing, you walked away from the male, tired that he was going away to his job again, and especially since he had gotten more ticked off lately. it was making you more stressed, and you were close to divorcing him and leaving him on the spot, him and his weird job that he always seems to care about.
but you can’t. that’s the love of your life, your high school sweetheart, the man you always set your eyes on. you can’t just drop everything and leave, like he always does. it’s hard for you to understand what’s happening, but you know that no matter what, you’re staying with this man, till death part the both of you.
JULY 30TH 1994
rich has been acting more off edge now, ever since he has been demoted to the ‘rejected toys room’, which he thought was insane of the company to do. you suggested quitting the job and finding a better one, but rich quickly declined the idea, saying it’s better to stay than leave.
at least he still has avery, who he always have lunch with on fridays. the both of them are good friends, which you’re glad that at least he has someone at work to talk to.
recently, the two of you have been distant, you running around the house making sure it’s clean and food is ready for your husband, in return, you husband working his ass off at the weird factory, always getting angry at every little thing.
it’s more harder that now you have random plush toys in your house, rich says that it’s to calm him down, but you think that they look creepy.
one though, the dog plush, was your favorite, despite its huge smile and its black menacing eyes that stares right into your soul. it had a vanilla scent, and its name was ‘dogday’, which you found adorable.
you would always carry around the plush toy, talking to it as if it was rich, cuddling with it in bed since rich is not there half of the time, pretending that it’s rich but as a plush.
it might seem pathetic, but you missed your husband dearly. you would’ve never guessed how much the two of you have been distant, and how you were slowly feeling replaced by this job. it was all crumbling down on you, but at least you had the dogday plush, it was cute.
either way, you have to thank rich for the plush, it was like a therapy plush. the others plush were nice, but you personally had a bias towards the dog one, as you liked dogs. the catnap plush was a close second.
hopefully, you can reconnect with your husband, maybe beg his boss to give him some time off, have a vacation with each other? just anything to be with him.
PRESENT DAY
now you thank the lord above that you never worked here.
poppy had purposefully crashed the train, resulting in the two of you being separated and you being dropped down a shoot. thankfully, you were quick to get out, realizing that you were now in the playcare sector of the factory. you went through the orphanage, saw catnap who scared the daylights out of you, had a hallucinations, saw a weird looking huggy wuggy, went through the school and always got killed by the teacher, saw catnap worshipping the prototype, and now you were in the playhouse part of the playcare.
how huge was this place again?
crawling through the playhouse, you were met with many of the mini smiling critters, which you thought were adorable. until they started to bite you. using the flare gun , they went away quicker than they came to you.
you felt odd in the playhouse, navigating through the plush maze. the critters followed your every room, but using your flare gun, they went away.
finally, seeing a door, you went through it, being surprised as you saw an empty pool room, with ducks being inside it. it felt uneasy, and you had a frown on your face, thinking that it was going to be an exit.
walking to another door on the other side of the room, you were met with a sort of jail type place, made with plush mats, of course. everything was unnerving, some of the jail cells were broken off, there were dead toys everywhere. some were hanged, some had blood bleeding out of its eyes or neck, some completely didn’t even have a head.
“you .. you’re poppy’s angel ..” your eyes widen, your heart dropped. that voice, it sounded familiar.
you look to see a chained up life-sized dogday, his lower half being cut off from his body, a belt being wrapped around his waist to probably contain the rest of his organs inside. it was horrific, his voice, his black soulless eyes.
“come to save us.” your hand made its way to cover your mouth, trying to contain the scream that was going to come out your mouth. you felt your face growing hot, your ears canceling out whatever he had to say. your emotions were going everywhere, nothing made sense. you thought he was dead, you thought he was 6 feet underground, you thought he wasn’t here no more.
but there is was, all in his glory. well, not quite glory.
“listen to me, you need to get out of this place.” you didn’t say a word, your eyes locking with his soulless ones. it all connected. there was a reason they didn’t want you to see his face, there was a reason it took weeks for them to retrieve his body, there was a reason why the funeral home was confused on why there wasn’t a body. there was a reason why your husband was taken away from you in this God awful place that called itself a loving place.
“i’m not going.” you could practically feel him gasp. the dog — rich, pleaded with you. trying to make you go, saying how the mini critters will come after him, how catnap will come after you.
but nothing was going to make you leave, nothing was going to make you leave your husband once again. nothing was going to let you from not stopping him as he walked out that door to his job. nothing was going to repeat itself once again.
i know palestine will be free in my lifetime. i know palestine will be free in my lifetime. i know i will see the day palestine is free and i will see her shake the dust of occupation from her heels. i know the old people and children of her history will return to their ancestral homes, their houses, their valleys, their olive groves, not to to set their roots down again because their roots have always been there, will always be there, but to grow again, bear fruit for harvest, and never be cut down again. i know palestine will be free. i grieve for palestine and dream of palestinian joy.
I'm never forgetting the Palestinian babies that were left to starve to death then rot in their beds by the IOF.
I'm never forgetting the Palestinian doctors surrounded by bodies of dead children begging the world to stop the slaughter.
I'm never forgetting the Palestinian children who held a press conference in English to beg the world to stop murdering them because they want to live.
I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Priest who said "We will not accept your apology after the genocide" to the world.
I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Imam who used the speakers of the Mosque, not to call people to prayer but to call out to God while the world around them was burning from American supplied Israeli bombs.
I'm never forgetting the grandfather who held his dead grandchild in his arms. Or the father carrying the remains of his two children in plastic shopping bags. Or the mother holding her dead child in a shroud. Or the father sitting among the rubble after he lost his whole family. Or the girl trapped under a broken building begging for people to save her family first. Or the boy who cried when he saw his brother alive. Or the girl who asked if she was still alive after being pulled from the rubble. Or the boy who carried the remains of his brother in his backpack. Or the old man the IOF used for a photoshoot before they shot him dead after getting pictures. Or the little boy wearing plastic gloves to pick up the remains of his family. Or the graves desecrated. Or the body of that small baby girl left alone in a tent because no one knew who she was or if her family was alive, small and alone and not one person who knew her name to bury her. Or the young boy who was shot in the street while his sister watched from the window. Or the men and boys who were stripped naked in winter. Or those tortured. Or those made to stand in open graves. Or the people who were raped by IOF soldiers. Or Palestinian workers kidnapped by the IOF and then labeled with wristbands, each one reduced to a number, then made to walk back to Gaza to be killed in the world's largest open air concentration camp. Or the people of Gaza starving because Israeli Zionists are blocking aid trucks. Or the Israelis dancing and celebrating the death of Palestinians. Or the lies spread by Zionists and their supporters. Or the people profiting off the oppression and deaths of Palestinians. Or the people of the West Bank being killed or kidnapped by the IOF. Or old woman who was older than the creation of the terror state of "Israel" who was shot by snipers for saying that. Or the Israelis dressed up as Palestinians to enter a hospital and kill three Palestinians in their beds. Or every single Palestinian currently kept in an Israeli prison. Or the journalists, doctors, poets, men, women, children, and the unborn all massacred. Or the fact that WCNSF exists now. Or the woman who refused to wash the blood from her hands. Or the dead, unburied and unmourned.
I'm never forgetting those who chose silence in the face of a genocide.
I may not know all their names but I will not forget the over 30,000 Palestinians dead. Or the over 60, 000 people hurt. Or the unknown number of people missing, still lost under the rubble. Or the 12,000 children slaughtered. An entire generation crippled or murdered.
I will never forget these things when Palestine is free.
i haven't posted in a while , sorry . it's kinda hard navigating tumblr. i really liked doing this piece, i just wish there werent so many blank spots . . . sighs anyways happy whatever day it is for you xx
vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
gamechangershow
izzy806
areudirty
origamiaround
