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inneedofsupervision · 1 month

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I didn't ask, did I? (Chapter 2)

Summary:

Happy begrudgingly steps aside and walks after Tony into the diner. The billionaire skillfully ignores the gasps of surprise and the poor attempt to take pictures of him secretly as he strides straight up to the counter. "Two cheeseburgers and a large fry. To go." "Please get in line and wait for your turn, Sir." "Excuse me?" Tony slowly pulls his sunglasses down and glances at the skinny teen behind the register. "Bad hearing comes with age, huh?" mutters the teen under his breath. Happy makes a choking sound behind him. ___________________ Or, how Tony Stark gets sassed by some high schooler working part-time and makes it his mission to figure out what he did to make this kid he'd never seen hate him. If that means annoying the hell out of said high schooler, that's not his problem.

Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: Tony just doesn't know when to let things go.

Read on Ao3

Chapter Text

"Friday, make an order at Bill's. The usual. And tell them I want it delivered by Mr. Parker."

"Of course, Sir."

His eyes fly over the holographic of his newly planned particle accelerator, scanning over the faulty storage ring. Leaning against the table behind him, Tony crosses his arms over his chest before reaching out and turning the image sideways. His hand goes for his coffee cup.

"Mr. Parker is not available to do deliveries, Sir."

"Why? Cause he's 14? They can send him on a bike then."

"Mr. Parker isn't working at Bill's anymore, Sir."

Tony raises an eyebrow, turning away from his new toy.

"He quit? Because of me? I don't know if that's flattering or insulting."

"He got fired, Sir."

Now, that grabs his attention.

With a flick of his wrist, the holographic image shrinks down, and he walks towards his coffee machine, setting up a new pot.

"Call Bill's and get me Dave in line, Fri."

"Of course, Sir."

After four rings, Dave's voice echoes through the speakers.

"Bill's Diner, what can I do for you today?"

"Dave, it's me. Tony."

"Mr. Stark?"

"The one and only," Tony answers and stares at the coffee machine as if that would speed up the brewing process.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Stark?" asks Dave his voice unsure.

Tony decides to go straight to business.

"You fired your employee."

There is a short silence on the other end of the line.

"Yes. I did fire Mr. Parker. You will not have to meet him again. I want to apologize for the incident last night. We will take greater care of who we hire from now on."

"Didn't you say the kid was usually polite?"

Tony pushes DUM-E away, who is about to pour a gallon of sugar into his cup.

"Peter is polite and a sweet kid. I am still unsure what came over him last night. The customers love him for how kind and nice he is."

"But you still fired him," deadpans Tony.

Dave sighs.

"I cannot let something like last night go without some consequences, Mr. Stark. The other employees will start acting out of line if they think I'm a pushover."

"We wouldn't want that, would we?" asks Tony and promptly ends the call.

"Friday, where does Peter Parker work now?"

"Sir, I must inform you that your interest in an underage high schooler could be classified as worrisome by the general public."

Tony raises an eyebrow.

"Are you calling me a child predator?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sir. I forgot social norms do not mean much to you."

Tony rolls his eyes before going over the information that pulls up on a holographic.

"I've never been a fan of Pizza Hut. One meat-lover with extra cheese, and don't let anyone else go to the door."

Tony puts the coffee on his lips, taking a large gulp, only to spit it right back into the cup.

"When did you do this? " he scolds the happily buzzing bot whose claw tries affectionally nuzzle against his hip.

"You sneaky little-, why haven't I upgraded you to a clothing rag, huh? I would be better off having you immobile and in one place than trying to assassinate me on a daily basis."

With a frown, Tony watches the coffee run down the drain. He sends a glare DUM-E's way as opens the faucet to let the water run. After rinning his mouth he goes back to work on his project, although coffeeless.

"Sir, your order is on the way up the elevator."

He glances up from where he leans over his workbench, pulling up the safety goggles

"Already? Color me impressed, that's twenty points for Pizza Hut."

After cleaning his hands Tony makes his way up to the penthouse, eyes focused on the elevator. The elevator doors push open, revealing the sight of a top-to-bottom water-dripping delivery boy.

Tony raises an eyebrow at the growing puddle forming under worn-out sneakers.

"Well, well, well. What a coincidence to meet again."

The boy doesn't bat an eye, even while standing in the elevator to the Avengers Penthouse with Tony Stark awaiting him.

"You stalked me."

The adult narrows his eyes at the accusing tone.

"You insulted me."

The kid juts his bottom lip, jaw clenching in tension as dark eyes glare from under his drenched cap up at Tony.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not!"

Tony snorts.

"What are you, five?"

The Parker kid glares some more.

"Old enough to know you're being a creep."

Tony crosses his arm over his chest, not intimidated by the glowering teen.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's your deal, kid?"

There is a minuscule moment where the kid's frown shifts into surprise before the tension on his face grows, bringing back the angry puppy look.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

God, kids are exhausting. He should have ordered a coffee too.

"What's your deal with me? Where does all the hatred come from?"

The kid shifts, mirroring his pose which would have looked more intimidating if he wasn't clutching the obnoxious red delivery bag in his pale hands.

"What? Never been called out for being an asshole before?"

"Hey!" chastises Tony but the kid's glare only turns icier.

"You got me fired," he says, a statement, not a question.

Tony shakes his head, hands on his hips.

"I didn't do anything."

Whatever he had said, it must have been the wrong thing because, the next moment, Tony had an angry kid standing in front of him, shoving a moist pizza box against his chest.

"That's exactly the problem with you," mutters the kid under his breath before turning and stomping towards the elevator. He rapidly pushes the button to close the door.

As the doors begin to close the teen seems to relax a little. His brown eyes find Tony's.

"For your information, I dropped your pizza on the way here. Twice."

Tony's eyes narrow. He is calling a bluff but when he opens the box the sad truth in the form of a soggy and messed up pizza greets his eyes.

"God, that is a crime scene," comments the man before snapping his head up.

"Friday, bring the kid back up. We weren't done talking yet."

"Mr. Parker has already left the building, Sir," answers the AI. Tony ignores how Friday almost sounds relieved, too focused on the murder of a perfectly innocent pizza. When he looks up again, there's a spark of determination gleaming in his eyes.

"Alright, Mr. Parker. This means war."

#peter parker #spider man #tony stark #iron man #the avengers #marvel #spider man fanfic #the avengers fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfic series #spiderman fanfiction #iron man fanfic #pepper potts

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capmackie · 6 months

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signs of love making ✨

—or Bucky takes a ride through the 12 zodiac signs

[found this is the drafts & decided to post it — also on AO3]

It’s no coincidence that Bucky meets Brad in October. If there was ever a month that felt like home to Bucky, it’s this one, and Brad evokes those same feelings. He’s Prince Charming personified —fair-skinned and fair-minded and Bucky, for a moment, lets himself get lost in the fairytale. But this is the real world and October reminds us that, like the trees who shed, we all have something we hide underneath.

Brad had an October as well.

The leaves are falling when Bucky meets Tom. It’s a chilly November day but nothing sends a chill down Bucky’s spine quite like Tom’s intense gaze, gold-green eyes seeing directly into his soul.

Tom — Bucky quickly finds out — is all big talk and big action and big dick wrapped tightly into a shell of a person and Bucky, for all of his self-awareness, wonders how someone so full of themselves can ever make space for another. There’s pieces of him Bucky will never know — a darkness even the Winter Soldier has never experienced— and, strangely, it’s kind of nice to not be the only enigma in the room. But just like those falling leaves, Tom can’t stay — here one day, gone the next.

December’s a funny one.

Robin’s a funny one. No seriously, she’s hilarious and Bucky realizes he’s never laughed this loud or this hard with someone before. It’s new and fresh and exhilarating. Robin’s a canvas of bright colors, each one more captivating than the last and Bucky wants nothing more than to get lost in the masterpiece of a woman sitting in front of him. But Robin is no portrait— unable to be stationary for too long, belonging to no one — so Bucky call it quits. Admires her beauty from afar and remembers that all good things must come to an end.

It’s January when he meets Dave.

Dave’s a brute of a man; all wide shoulders and thick neck and grubby hands. Hands that pin Bucky down while he’s behind him, inching deeper and deeper into Bucky’s tight heat.

Dave fucks like he does literally everything else, with a laser-focused intensity, like everything in the world is his for the taking.

He’s bossy and demanding and Bucky wonders how someone who goes so hard, so fast doesn’t burn out; how he has anything left to give with the way he pours himself into his work, into his status, later that night, into Bucky.

But they both know it’s never meant to last so they part ways amicably; sometimes Bucky’ll send him a picture of the goat he tends and they’ll both get a laugh out of it.

It’s February when he meets John.

John’s a hard man to grasp and Bucky’s tried and tried, Lord knows he tried — to hold on to him but he flits through Bucky’s closed fist, just like water.

John’s lean, built like a runner. Has the endurance of one as well, easily matching Bucky orgasm for orgasm and Bucky thinks John might’ve gotten ahold to the super-soldier serum as well.

John is a man right out of Bucky’s dreams; a great conversationalist, an even better fuck and Bucky thinks this is it, this is where he can settle down, build himself a home in John.

But John’s an individualist, a one-man army convinced he’s gonna dismantle the machine.

Bucky’s had enough of armies and following blue-eyed blondes into war. He’s tired of fighting against machines; shit, he has that battle every time he looks in the mirror.

So begrudgingly, he shoves his clothes on, shoves his beating heart back in his chest, leaves John and John’s apartment, all the same.

You can’t hold on to water anyway.

It’s March and Bucky’s tired of random hookups.

He’s tired of the overused tropes, tired of pretending to be interested in whatever the other party is saying, tired of them pretending to be interested in what he’s saying.

He’s in his own place, sated by a cool beer and the warm air floating through an open window in his bedroom.

It’s a warm night, the warmest it’s been in awhile, and sweat prickles on his neck, races down his forehead. He’s feels like a live wire, like his skin is stretched too tightly; somehow, he feels everything and nothing at all.

But then he feels something else, a warm hand snaking up his thigh, pulling the waistband of his shorts down exposing him to the warm air.

The hand is soft, sure in its’ movements like it knows what it’s doing, like it knows exactly how to get Bucky off. It’s cupping Bucky’s balls, rolling them in its calloused grasp, slowly moving upwards until it’s wrapped around hard flesh, strokes it once, wrist turning upward right around the sensitive head.

The hand works quickly, brings Bucky to the edge, leaves him there for a moment, then fully strokes his orgasm out of him, a small scream as well.

Bucky rides his orgasm out, catching his breath, sucking in gulps of humid air. Once his lungs are back to working capacity, he goes to wash the evidence of his activities off of his right hand.

It’s April, May, and then June and Bucky can’t be damned to keep up with the passage of time, the months just as fleeting as the people that come, and then go, in Bucky’s life are.

Andy’s brash and stubborn, never backs down from a challenge and Bucky likes that. Likes that someone calls him on his shit, likes how he’s everything the Winter Soldier isn’t; hot-headed and warm-blooded.

Their relationship burns out just as quickly as it starts and Bucky doesn’t mind, he knows that something’s have to burn down just so something else can start anew.

Mikea is just as stubborn, if not more, than Andy. But she’s sweet, and loyal and grounded in who she is and what her beliefs are. She’s a mountain unmoved in the face of a storm and her unwillingness to bend or sway leaves Bucky infatuated and irritated in equal measures.

But Bucky can look past the stubbornness, can ignore the penchance for confrontation, if only for a little while, when Mikea’s underneath him, staring at him like he’s the reason the sun and the planets exists. In those moments, Bucky can see his entire future in those eyes; liquid gold, so deep, he feels rich off of her gaze even with no money in his pocket.

Their differences are just too much though; creates valleys in between them, deep and far apart, and they have to call it quits. Bucky’s upset about it, upset at losing his rock but then he’s distracted in the whirlwind of chaos caused by Greg.

And a whirlwind it is.

Greg is almost like two people at once, a Dr. Jerkel and Mr. Hyde monster, but he’s a master of words. His slick tongue eases Bucky into some semblance of a relationship and then his slick tongue eases itself somewhere else on Bucky.

They break up in a flurry of words that Bucky can’t bring himself to say. Greg eventually does, in that syrupy-sweet voice Bucky used to catch a sugar high from. Now it just makes him sick.

July is interesting.

July is a blur of meeting what’s his name, bedding what’s his name and then ghosting what’s his name. He wants to feel bad about it, cause no seriously — what was his name, is so kind and soft and impossibly perfect. But this one has a martyr complex like you wouldn’t believe, strong back crafted from carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

This guy reminds Bucky of someone else but he doesn’t stop to dwell on it.

It’s August when Bucky meets James.

They bond over having the same name, the same drink order, and similarly glorious hair. Bucky has his swept back off of his face in a neat bun, showcasing his gorgeous cheekbones but other James lets his hair fly free, soft curls in his Afro framing his beautiful face.

Bucky tells him that it looks like a lion’s mane and James completely cracks up, has to hold on to the bar and then Bucky’s knee to keep himself upright.

James is still laughing about the dumb hair joke even as they fuck hard and fast, almost animalistic.

James isn’t laughing when Bucky calls it quits.

It’s September and he’s in D.C. for no particular reason when he runs, quite literally, into Sam.

It’s the same old Sam, except he’s filled out more, arms straining against the fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt. He has a little bit more facial hair than the last time Bucky’s seen him, some of it has even started to gray.

Bucky’s curious, wonders if the weight of the new title is aging Sam quicker than it should.

He wants to ask, wants to pry, but Sam’s smiling at him, all big and goofy and Bucky forgets everything he wants to ask. Let’s himself be enveloped in the warmth of Sam’s smile, ignores the fact that he’s been so cold for so long and never realized it until Sam, sunshine in human form, smiled at him and warmed him right up.

Sam’s practical, methodical, has an answer for everything, even when he doesn’t. A constant in a world ever-changing and Bucky thinks, knows this could be it. Cause Sam is patient and virtuous, tender in ways Bucky never knew he needed. Never knew he could need.

And it’s in this moment, on the last leg of their jogging session past the Lincoln Memorial and the reflecting pool, that Bucky realizes that his entire life has led up to this moment. That the ones he’s loved and the ones he lost all taught him valuable lessons about how he wanted to love and be loved in return.

Cause Sam’s an angelic being, a slice of heaven he doesn’t have to die (again) to taste.

And Bucky thanks his lucky stars for it.

#sambucky #sam wilson #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes

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vacantgodling · 5 months

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🎯 -What do they do best?

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

for Hya (I know you answered one of these for him already so you can just skip it) and Dave?

~ @void-botanist

thank you so much for the questions ;3;

🎯 -What do they do best?

hya -> if i'm being serious, he's very good with money, math and finances. its one of the few things, aside from his beauty marks, that he gets from his father bc despite everything else, clematis didn't become rich by chance, he actually built up his wealth and hya has the mathematical brain to do so as well.

dave -> aside from being a dad, photography. something he actually wanted to do before he had darren with liz was to be a professional photographer, whether that be sports, nature, news, etc. his parents never supported this vision, and after having a son he took a more lucrative career (being a lawyer) to provide for him. but, after everything is revealed and darren strikes out on his own, dave finally pursues his passion thanks to the encouragement of estel :)

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

hya -> shop and read are his two main hobbies lmaooo. he hates to do a lot of things, however, i think any social gathering counts as his top 10 most hated things to have to do.

dave -> travel & take pictures (as per last answer), play board games, work out are his favorite things to do. he hates cooking (he's so bad at it lmao) and being confrontational--not that he can't be he just doesn't like when he has to be.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

dave -> the first time darren called him "dad" actually. tl;dr, dave always had daddy issues. he's the middle child of his family (elder brother: antonio and younger brother who is slightly more narratively important: abraham or "ham") and he was always judged the most harshly by his father. eldest son antonio could do no wrong, younger brother ham was lackidaisy and rewarded for it by their mother. but despite dave's (verbal) abuse from his father, he was still forbidden to call him anything other than father--not dad, not pa, not his first name. always father. to show the position that he held over him.

this made dave really... disillusioned to the idea of fatherhood, so honestly, when liz got pregnant he did have a bit of a crisis about that. and during that crisis he decided that he never wanted his child to call him 'father' because he didn't want to become like the father that his dad was.

fastforward to darren being born; dare his whole life has always called dave, well, dave. just like dave always deterred from calling darren by his name and called him champ. (he was never 'son' or anything positive to his own father, always david alone and harshly, so he decided he'd always call dare by a pet name to make sure he knew he was cared for). but the first time something negative happened in dare's life and he needed his dad, instead of dave, he called him 'dad'. dare had to be like, almost 10 at this point? so this whole time dave's never heard himself be called dad by his son but the second dare does it just... settles something in him. he realizes that despite everything, he raised dare to be someone who WILLINGLY called him dad. because he loved him and trusted him. and that moment has meant more to dave than anything.

obviously, the tradition still keeps up though, dare still calls dave "dave" most of the time, but whenever he's vulnerable, he calls dave dad and its really healing for both of them.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

hya -> there's many, but honestly, the trauma surrounding why he hates showers is probably the Only thing he would begrudgingly agree he has ptsd around. he refuses to talk about it, to the point that i ren his whole creator, have no clue what happened. i have an Inkling? but not enough to put it forth as fact and tbh i don't think hya will ever tell me. but i do know that trauma did start him on the path to becoming as physically and mentally intimidating and foreboading as he is in general because he vowed he'd never let anyone hurt him like that again.

dave -> when liz left him after darren was born. part of the reason he and liz never get back together despite caring for one another is that the hurt from that moment was just too great for dave tbh.

#s: paramour #s: vdtrt #thanks for asking!!

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ticklishtimothee · 4 years

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a part of the family (spencer reid x reader)

summary: spencer hasn’t told the team about your relationship yet, but when morgan accidentally learns about it, spencer finally gets the courage to introduce you to the rest of the team.

a/n: i still have a few prompts to fill but this idea wouldn’t leave my head and i’m on a huge criminal minds binge atm so i hope you guys enjoy!!

words: 1,640

You awoke in Spencer’s bed, still mostly undressed from the night before, the memory making a sleepy smile curl on your face. Begrudgingly pulling back the covers, you stood up and pulled on one of Spencer’s sweaters, as it was way too early to get dressed back up in your jeans and own top.

Plus, you just liked stealing his clothes. He didn’t seem to mind one bit, so why stop?

You two had been together for about two months, but he still hadn’t gotten around to telling his team. You weren’t offended, after he explained why.

“I’ve never had a really serious relationship before, and they’re all so used to me being the kid of the team, I’m afraid they’re going to make a huge deal of it. My first kiss was during a case, and Morgan made fun of me about it for weeks after. I love them all, but I’m with them all the time, and I just...I want something that’s just for us right now.”

You were more than content with that, for the time being, although you were also itching to meet the people who were so important to your boyfriend. Whenever he was ready, you would be.

Faintly, through the closed bedroom door, you heard voices. Was there someone at the door? Spencer wasn’t one to talk to himself while he brewed coffee, and he wasn’t on the phone, because you could hear two voices, and he never put his calls on speaker.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you tiptoed toward the door, and let it slowly creak open.

In the small apartment, you could see straight down the hall to the front door, which Spencer had opened about a quarter of the way, and he was talking to someone through the crack.

Deciding that it was nothing important, just someone from the building asking if he’d buy their daughter’s Girl Scout cookies (he would say yes, of course), you opened the door the rest of the way and started making your way down the hall.

“C’mon, pretty boy, re-reading War and Peace is not the same as being busy—”

Without warning, the person who had spoken pushed Spencer gently in the chest and made their way through the door, a tall and muscular black man who you recognized from the few pictures that Spencer had shown you of the team.

“Morgan!” Spencer cried, confirming it was exactly who you thought the intruder was.

It was too late, though. Morgan’s eyes had already locked on you, surprise spreading over his features.

Remembering your state of undress, you hurriedly crossed your arms over your chest. This wasn’t at all how you planned to meet Spencer’s co-workers. You had at least thought you’d have some more clothes on when it happened.

Morgan looked between Spencer and you for a moment.

Sensing the awkwardness in the air, you spoke up. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Agent Morgan.”

“It’s just Derek to you, sweetheart,” he replied, shooting you a smile. “I’m really sorry to barge in like this, I just wasn’t expecting Reid to have anyone over.”

Spencer flushed pink, and it made you giggle softly. “It’s no worry. I am gonna go back in there so you guys can talk, and maybe put on some pants while I’m at it,” you said, shooting a smile between the two men before dipping back into the bedroom.

You caught some parts of the conversation, mostly Derek apologizing, and Spencer apologizing back for having not told him. But the one thing you did hear that made a hopeless smile spread across your face was Derek’s voice.

“Y/N seems like a catch, kid. I’d love to meet them again when you wanna introduce us all, formally this time.”

Spencer laughed softly. “Yeah, they’re great. Maybe next weekend, if we don’t have a case...I’ll see if Y/N is up for it.”

After Morgan left, Spencer came back into the bedroom with two mugs of coffee in his hands, his face still flushed and a shy smile.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he said immediately. “I see him almost every day, but just because he assumed I wasn’t doing anything, he dropped by to see if I wanted to get lunch with him and Penelope.”

You chuckled, gratefully accepting one of the cups. “He seems great. Although it isn’t exactly how I pictured meeting him, I see why you like him so much.”

“Do you think...I mean, would you want...to meet the rest of them, sometime?” he asked, and you could hear the nervous twinge in his tone.

You reached out with one hand to cup the side of his face. “I’d love that. Anyone who is important to you is someone I want to meet.”

He grinned, and pulled you in for a quick kiss.

***

The next day, Spencer was called away on a case, and you sat in your apartment, engrossed in a book that he’d lended you when your phone dinged.

Although he wasn’t much of a texter, he did it occasionally when he was too busy to give you a call. It read: “I asked the team if they’d like to meet you. They’re so excited. We should be on a plane out of here by the weekend. How does Saturday sound?”

Smiling to yourself, you replied: “It sounds perfect. Tell them I can’t wait.”

Carefully marking your place in the book, you went to your closet to pick something to wear.

It was only Thursday, but you wanted the team to like you. Their entire job was to judge off of appearances, off of first impressions, and so you knew you had to make a good one.

You dug through endless outfits before settling on one that you decided could suffice: classy but not overdressed.

You went to bed that night, and the night after, feeling like you had first-day jitters like a kid in high school. You went about your usual routine, just with an added excitement beneath your actions.

Spencer texted you Friday evening: “The jet just landed. Instead of going to a bar, Rossi offered up his house, if that’s alright. I can come pick you up.”

You replied. “I’ll start getting ready!”

Spencer’s lack of texting skills were a running joke between the two of you, and so he had started using emojis to show off the fact that he did know how to work his phone, and therefore sent back a thumbs-up.

It made you laugh, looking at the screen fondly, before you started getting ready.

There was a knock on your apartment door just as you were finishing, and you hurried over to let Spencer in.

His eyes widened a little when he saw you. “Wow,” he said instead of a usual greeting.

You grinned. “You like it?”

“You look amazing,” he said, before pulling you in for a kiss.

You kissed him back, before running back inside to grab your bag and put on your shoes, and the two of you set off in a cab to Rossi’s home (or rather, mansion).

You walked towards the front door with bated breath, Spencer squeezing your hand reassuringly as he rang the doorbell.

A short, bearded man who you knew was Rossi himself answered the door, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw you. “You must be Y/N! Come in you two, come in.”

“Dave, where are your manners? At least introduce yourself before you heard them in here like cattle,” a taller man, Hotch, you remembered, said.

“Oh, hush Aaron, I’m sure Reid told them our names,” he replied. “But, in case he didn’t: David Rossi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You giggled, taking the hand which he extended to you and shaking it. “It’s great to meet you too.”

“Aaron Hotchner,” the other man said, coming over to shake your hand as well, and you felt yourself begin to turn pink under all the attention.

“I’m Penelope,” one of the women came forward, and her smile could have lit the whole room. “You are so adorable!”

“Thank you,” you laughed, assuming she was that straightforward with everyone. “I love your dress.”

Penelope pulled you in for a giddy one-armed hug. “Spencer, they’re a keeper,” she stage-whispered.

JJ approached you next, an older-sister like glint in her eye as she assessed you, but you seemed to pass her test by the way she smiled, after a very firm handshake.

Then, Emily, already with a glass of red wine in her hand, took her time to compliment your shoes. You knew that was a high compliment coming for her, as Spencer had told you about her extensive collection of boots and heels.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N,” Morgan said.

“Again? What do you mean, again?” Penelope asked, shooting him a look.

Spencer went red. You assumed that he hadn’t told them about the incident at the apartment, and you hid your laugh in your sleeve as Derek began to retell it, mischief dancing in his eyes.

You should have been more embarrassed, but it was hard to not feel comfortable around them all, and besides, they had heard way worse stories in the field, so it didn’t seem to phase them besides some laughter and poking fun at Spencer, who you knew secretly didn’t mind one bit.

“They always make you feel like part of the family,” he had once told you when describing his team.

At dinner, Rossi made a show of clinking a fork on his glass and standing.

“A toast, to Spencer and Y/N,” he announced, and he caught your eye with a smile, and as everyone said “cheers!”, you knew you were officially a part of the family.

#spencer reid x reader #reader x spencer reid #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #reader insert #reader insert fic #*#mine

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let-it-raines · 4 years

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Prompt - David and Mary Margaret discover this great groupon deal for an autumn leaf changing tour and cabin rental in Vermont, but the catch, it's for 4 people. Enter in the reluctant best friends that can't stand each other. (And you know, the cabin only has 2 rooms)

🍁 found on ao3 | here | 🍁

-/-

Here’s the thing about Killian Jones: Emma doesn’t hate him.

She really, really doesn’t. Hate is a strong word that she saves for people like Neal and the asshole who took her parking spot and made her lose her skip and her bigger paycheck last week. It’s not a word she uses to describe her opinion of Killian Jones. That would be better described as mistrust or slight animosity or dislike. In the nicest of terms, it could be described as nonchalance and uncaring, maybe a little bit of annoyance, but those are only true when she hasn’t seen him for awhile and has forgotten how annoying he can be.

Right now, annoyance is the exact word she would use to describe her relationship with him, mostly because his appearance was unexpected and unwelcome.

A month ago, Mary Margaret called Emma and told her that she and David won a trip to Vermont for a weekend of walking trails to see the leaves changing. It included free lodging, free dinners, tickets to a farm where you could pick your own apples and pumpkins and sit at their restaurant on the lake and drink the cider brewed at that very farm. It sounded nice, like the plot and setting of a Hallmark movie Emma only watches when she’s at Mary Margaret’s loft, and Emma told Mary Margaret that she hoped they had a good time.

Then Mary Margaret told her the trip was actually for four people, invited Emma and their mutual friend Ruby, and Emma figured why not? Her job has been stressing her out lately, and it’s a free vacation. Who passes up a free vacation?

Ruby Lucas apparently does in order to go to help her grandmother with the catering of a last-minute wedding, and Emma didn’t know about that until she got in the back of David’s truck and saw Killian Jones sitting in the spot that was supposed to be Ruby’s.

She feels cheated.

This was supposed to be relaxing even if it was going to be spent watching David and Mary Margaret be overly affectionate with each other, and now she has to deal with Killian for an entire weekend.

That’s two days and twelve hours too long if she includes today…which she definitely is.

They’ve been in the truck for a little over three hours, which means they should be at the lodge soon, and Emma’s trying to focus on the scenery outside. It’s gorgeous, much more rural than what she’s used to living in the central part of Boston, and from what she’s heard of the lodge and the trails surrounding it, it’s only supposed to get better.

This is good. This can be a good weekend. Maybe she can go off on her own for most of it, and she won’t have to be with Killian or the lovebirds. They’ll be too busy getting lost in each other’s eyes, and he’ll be too busy flirting with every woman around. There’s definitely got to be opportunity for her to go off on her own.

If not, she might fling herself into a pile of leaves and never emerge for air.

And she’ll definitely blame it on Ruby for not telling Emma about her last-minute cancellation.

When they do eventually arrive at the lodge – after thirty minutes of Killian complaining about one of his coworkers – it turns out to look more like a small castle than anything else. It’s made of gray stone and covered in ivy and weeds while still being maintained. There’s a round fountain in front of the entryway, and behind the building, Emma can see the path that leads down to the lake and the hills that are full of trees behind it. Every tree is a different shade of red, orange, green, and yellow, and Emma has never wanted to take a picture of nature so much in her life. She’s about to live out the life of one of those girls on Instagram who only do things for the aesthetics, and for a weekend, she can’t say she minds.

What she does mind, however, is that when David hands her the key to her room, he hands Killian a key to the same room.

The same room as in her room.

Her. Room.

Hers.

“No.”

“Why are you saying no?” David asks, tilting his head in question.

“No, as in no I will not share a room. I thought I was getting my own room.”

“It’s a couple’s weekend, Emma, and I bet you would have been fine sharing a room with Ruby.”

“Yeah, because Ruby’s…”

“Ruby’s not me,” Killian interjects, wrapping his arm around Emma’s shoulder. She tries to shrug it off, but it doesn’t move anywhere. It’s deadweight up there, and Killian has unfortunately turned so he can’t see her death stare. Not that it would have any effect on him. “You see, Dave, it’s just that Emma is wildly attracted to me, and she doesn’t think she’ll be able to contain herself knowing I’m only a few feet away from her, especially when she discovers I sleep in the nude.”

“Oh my God.” Emma moves from underneath Killian’s arm, her strength coming back to her, and moves toward her – their, ugh – door. She turns the key, which is for some reason the old fashioned kind and not a card. “Please stop talking, Jones. I am not wildly attracted to you, and I can handle sharing a room. I’m not a child.”

“See, I knew the lass could do it.”

He winks at her and does this ridiculous eyebrow thing at David, and Emma is seriously considering paying thousands of dollars (she googled this place when they walked inside, and it is not cheap) for her own room.

“We’ll meet you guys in the lobby in thirty minutes, okay? We’re going on a tour of the grounds with our guide and then dinner, so dress for both.”

“When is the hike?” Emma asks, lingering in the doorway.

“Not until tomorrow. I’ll get Mary Margaret to send you the itinerary.”

“She already has. I just haven’t looked at it.”

“I’m not telling her that,” David laughs. “See you soon.”

Emma waves, smiling at David, and turns into the room, dragging her luggage behind her. It doesn’t take long before she’s stopped in her tracks, her sneakers snagging in the carpet, as Killian runs into her back.

“Bloody hell, why’d you stop like that?”

She opens her arm to the bed – singular – in front of them, which would look cozy and soft and all of the good things if she had it all to herself. “If you didn’t bring clothes to sleep in, you’re sleeping in your fucking jeans,” she mumbles before turning toward the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

This is fine.

This is all fine. Emma has been through a hell of a lot worse, and maybe Killian won’t be an ass. Maybe he’ll be the gentleman he always claims to be.

She’s never believed him for a second when he’s said shit like that.

Emma changes out of her leggings and sweatshirt into a pair of jeans and a thick sweater, grabbing her red plaid jacket and a beanie and placing them to the side for when she leaves. She puts on some mascara, a swipe of lipstick, and brushes out her hair. This is as good as it’s going to get, and she doesn’t mind that. Mary Margaret will tell her that tomorrow or whenever they go to the nice dinner that she’ll have to dress up, and Emma is giving herself a break on the makeup until then.

She had to pile it on every night this week for work, and her skin is screaming for a break.

Killian knocks on the door, telling her to hurry up because he has to get ready too, so she takes five extra minutes…out of spite…because she knows it’s just petty enough for it to rub him the wrong way. She doesn’t feel bad about it either. Killian would do the same damn thing.

“You look nice,” Killian tells her when she opens the bathroom door and he’s standing on the wall opposite the bathroom, leg propped up and arms crossed over his chest. His eyes trail up and down her body, and Emma moves out of the doorway. A shiver runs down her spine, but she ignores it.

Definitely, definitely ignores it.

It’s cold up in Vermont, even colder than in Boston, and these old walls aren’t helping.

Killian takes approximately two minutes to get ready, all of which is probably spent getting into ridiculously tight jeans, and then they’re begrudgingly walking to the lobby where David and Mary Margaret are waiting for them already talking to the guide, a peppy woman named Anna who is like the redheaded version of Mary Margaret when Mary Margaret is in one of her “everything is a fairytale” moods.

Anna takes them throughout the property, giving them the history of the place while offering up different amenities that are not included with the package they won but still accessible if they’re willing to pay. There’s a spa, a gym, three different hiking trails, an option to take row boats out on the lake if the weather is nice, and there are two different restaurants on the property. They also offer drivers to several places around town, including the grocery store and the farm they’ll be visiting tomorrow after their hike, and Emma is sure several other things are said. She zones out about halfway through, distracted by the view of the trees and how they’re reflected on the lake. Everything is in an orange glow right now, one that brings comfort to Emma.

She’s always liked sunsets. It’s cheesy and she’d never admit it out loud, but she likes the predictability of them. They don’t always look the same, but they happen every day, even if she can’t see it. She likes that, having that constant. It’s not something she has a lot of, constants that is, and she takes every one she can get.

Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad.

If she says that enough, she just might believe it.

-/-

Dinner is nice.

The food is good, the wine surprisingly good since she was pretty sure it was going to be some funky homemade stuff, and even more surprisingly, the company is great.

When she thinks that, she wonders if the alcohol content in the wine was higher than the server said it was.

All the good thoughts about Killian go away, however, when they’re back in their (still so awful to have to think) hotel room, and Emma is awkwardly sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing lotion on her arms. Killian, thank goodness, is in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt, so he’s not even going to attempt to sleep naked.

She was 100% sure that he would try, and she’s honestly kind of sad she won’t get a chance to slap him.

On the cheek.

On his face.

She doesn’t want to slap him anywhere else.

Okay, that wine’s alcohol content was definitely higher than it should have been.

Killian plops down on the bed, the mattress shaking beneath him, and tugs the covers over him. His movements jostle her, and she grits her teeth as she finishes moisturizing. He turns on the TV, puts it on some show she has never heard of, and Emma tries to keep calm. She’s tired. She’s going to fall asleep quickly, and the TV won’t bother her. She falls asleep every night with the TV on, so this is nothing new.

Emma turns down the corner of the bed on her side and slides underneath before flipping the switch for the light. The room darkens except for the TV and the glow of the alarm clock, and Emma closes her eyes. They’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and she doesn’t want to be walking around wishing she had an IV of coffee to keep her awake.

Slowly, sleep comes for her, tugging at the corners of her eyes, and just as she’s about to succumb to it, the comforter is tugged off of her, leaving her foot exposed to the cold air of the room.

What the hell?

Emma tugs it back, shifting her leg to have it covered, and for a moment, she’s warm. Warm and cozy and not even the too loud laugh track on the TV is disturbing her.

The fact that Killian pulls away the comforter again is, however, disturbing her.

Actually, it really freaking annoys her, so she pulls it back. Hard this time, and Killian grunts in response and rolls over. she feels his foot brush against her calf, and she kicks out, moving him back to his side. It’s only a queen-sized bed, so there’s not a lot of room for them to stay separate. She’s about three seconds away from finding pillows or their suitcases and putting them in between the two of them so he stops encroaching on her space.

And taking her comforter.

Because it’s definitely hers. Just like this room was supposed to be.

Killian wasn’t even supposed to be on this trip. It was supposed to be Ruby, who definitely would have stayed on her side of the bed. Better yet, she probably would have met someone and would be staying with them, and Emma would have this entire bed to herself.

It’s so comfortable that it’s a shame she has to share it. She’s not used to that anymore, and she likes to stretch out.

The comforter moves again, and Emma grips onto it, holding it where she is and tucking it underneath her ass to keep it as steady as possible. At this point, he has to be doing it to annoy her, and Emma is not going to lose this battle.

She’ll stay up all night if she has to.

“You know, Swan,” Killian mumbles, “normally I prefer to do more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back than fight over the covers.”

Emma groans and rolls over on her stomach, pointedly kicking out at him. “Shut up, Jones.”

“If that’s what the lady wishes.”

Emma mutters into her pillow, and for a few minutes, as the blanket stealing calms down and the TV quiets, Emma wonders if she could feasibly fake some sleeping disorder that has her punching Killian in the face all night.

She can be a pretty good actress sometimes. She could probably pull it off.

She doesn’t do that, though, because she eventually falls asleep, one foot sticking out into the cold air.

Damn you, Jones.

-/-

There’s a warm body nears hers.

That’s the first thought Emma has when she wakes up – after thinking of how annoying her alarm sound is. The body warm and solid and a little hairy, and it takes her two seconds to remember where she is and who she’s sharing a bed with. She knew she should have slept on the floor last night because in no world does she want to have her leg pressing up against Killian’s leg and her ass…

“Oh my God,” she murmurs, eyes blowing wide as she turns and moves her body as much as she can. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Goooooooood.”

“What are you yelling about?” Killian groans, shifting behind her, which only makes it worse.

“I’m not yelling,” Emma hisses. She pushes away and sits up, and there’s no need to even adjust the comforter because none of it is on her. “What are you doing near me?”

He raises his brow, wrinkles on his forehead popping up. Getting a look at him now, she knows the ruffled look he sometimes does with his hair is natural, and for some reason, that really freaking annoys her.

“I was sleeping until you decided to have a conniption.”

“Yeah, well that’s because your dick��oh shit.”

Emma wasn’t going to say that. She really wasn’t, and from the way Killian’s brow is arching higher, she knows that she’s messed up. She’s given him the perfect set up for all of his innuendos, and knowing him, she’s never going to be allowed to live this down.

What a great start to her morning.

“Usually that’s not the reaction, but I understand your shock, love. You weren’t prepared, and it’s, well, a lot to take in.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” She takes the pillow from behind her and smacks him with it as he laughs. He’s getting far too much enjoyment out of this, and she’s wondering how long she would be in jail if she smothered him. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Make it cold and bracing. I think you might need it.”

“Yeah, I’m not the one with morning wood, but you keep thinking that.” She gets off the mattress and reaches down for her bag. Killian may have unpacked his stuff, but she didn’t bother to do that, even if it means everything is wrinkled. “Please don’t take care of it while I’m showering. That’s just…we have to share the bed, Jones, and I’ve worked in hotels before. I know they don’t always change the sheets.”

He mock salutes, the cheekiest grin on his face, and this is really going to be a long day.

-/-

It’s a long day.

Before she can even get coffee in her, she’s dragged out to the hiking trail. The sun hasn’t fully risen, and they’re supposed to be watching the sunrise and how it matches up with all the changing trees. It’s beautiful. She knows it is, and she does manage to take some pictures that she’s sure capture about half of the beauty. The thing is that despite her best efforts, she didn’t sleep well, and she’s only running on adrenaline and annoyance.

Mostly at Killian.

He’s been staring at her all morning, a joke on the tip of his tongue about their morning, and he’s started to make them several times before Emma shoots him a look or elbows him in the stomach. Mary Margaret has given Emma several funny looks, and if she wasn’t so wrapped up in David and the romance of the changing leaves and the sunrise, she’d probably ask about it.

Mary Margaret is not one for subtlety or staying out of someone else’s business.

David guides them over the trail, which is somehow all uphill despite no discernible incline, and eventually the come to a perch with a few of the lake and the lodge, miles of trees surrounding it. Emma doesn’t think she’s ever seen anything quite like it, and now she can truly see why so many people travel here just to stare at some trees.

“It’s something isn’t it, Swan?” Killian asks as he walks up behind her, the heat of his body making the chill of the air fade for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t think looking at trees would be your thing. I don’t take you as much of a nature person.”

Emma turns to face him and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t know me well enough to know if I’m a nature person or not.”

He steps closer, invading her space like he always does, and maybe she’s a bit of a liar when she says he doesn’t know her. “Just who are you then, Swan?”

Emma cocks her head and straightens her back, not letting him overwhelm her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He smiles and nods, lashes fluttering until his eyes are hooded. “Perhaps I would.”

“We better get moving if we want to make it to the apple orchard on time,” David tells them, making Emma jump away from Killian and smooth down her flannel over her stomach. “You okay? You look flushed.”

“Just the walk,” Emma lies. “I’m sure that’s all.”

-/-

“I will throw this apple at your head.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Emma groans, audibly, and plucks another apple from the tree and puts it in her basket. It’s getting a little heavy, and not in a million years could she eat all these apples before they spoil. They’re not for her, though. They’re for the farm and its cider and pies and tarts and all the other apple goods they make. She must admit that it’s a brilliant business plan, having people pick the apples for you and then make them pay for it and the food and drinks.

She can’t believe people actually pay to do this. The hike, she gets, foraging for your own food, not so much.

Emma picks an apple out of her basket, one that kind of looks gross and a little squished, and she tosses it at the back of Killian’s head. It hits, just barely, and she stops as he reaches up to touch his hair.

“What is wrong with you?” he hisses, turning around to glare at her.

“You’re the one who has spent the last ten minutes being invasive to my personal life, so what’s wrong with you?”

“Asking if you were still seeing Graham Humbert is not invasive.”

“It is definitely invasive.”

Killian’s shoulders shrug, and he steps closer to her. Really close, actually. He does this obnoxious thing where he’s always encroaching on her space when he speaks, swaying closer and dipping his head down until their eyes are level. He’s doing that now, obnoxious, downright cocky grin gracing his lips, and Emma backs away, dodging some low-hanging apples, until her back is against the tree and she’s putting her basket on the ground. She really hopes there aren’t ants crawling all over her, but at this point, she’s too distracted to care.

For every inch that she moved, Killian matched her. And now, he’s more in her space than ever, the heat of his body warming her more than her jacket. How is he that damn hot?

Only in the temperature sense…not in the other way. She is obviously still a little tipsy from the wine last night that she still maintains had a higher alcohol content than usual.

He chuckles, and his eyes look at her before glancing down at her lips. It’s not even a quick glance. It’s pointed, and Emma knows she was meant to notice it.

“Please,” Emma huffs, “you couldn’t handle it.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

She wants to say something back, some smart, snide remark that will make him frustrated, but she also wants to prove him wrong. Emma doesn’t care what anyone else has to say, and she’s heard all the rumors. Kissing Killian Jones is not going to have an effect on her.

So she grabs the lapels of his coat and pulls him forward until his mouth is on hers and Emma’s head is pressing into the back of the tree. The bark scratching the back of her neck would be uncomfortable if she wasn’t so focused on Killian. He’s not kissing her back, his lips rigid against her, and she’s just about to pull back and give him shit over being a horrible kisser when he moves. His hand comes to her hair, yanking on the strands as he tilts her head the way he wants it, and his prosthetic rests at her waist. Every thought she had about him being stiff was wrong.

She’s never felt anyone move like this.

She’s also had some pretty damn good kisses in her life, but she can’t remember the last time one took her breath away and made heat curl over her skin as soft lips moved over her and slightly rough stubble scratched against her skin, likely leaving her red.

Emma can’t remember the last time she was kissed well, and damn, what a shame that is.

She could get used to that.

But she knows that’s a dangerous thought, and this is a dangerous game she’s playing. If she’s bringing cards to the table to play, she has to be open to the possibility that she can lose her hand.

Emma isn’t open to that right now.

So, she pulls back, just barely though, and tries to catch her breath as Killian does the same. He’s panting, and in any other circumstance, the sound would be like heaven to her, a strong indication of what’s to come next. Not in this one, though, and when Killian moves in, she pulls away.

“That was,” he begins, seemingly trailing off in a search for the words to describe what just happened.

She doesn’t know either, but it doesn’t take her long to figure out what she wants to say.

“A one-time thing,” she finishes, knowing she has to say it as she looks at him and the flush of his cheeks. “I’m going to find David and Mary Margaret. Don’t follow me. Wait five minutes and...” she glances down toward his jeans “…calm down.”

He mockingly bows, same smug smile she’s used to back on his lips. She knows how they feel now, and that feels wrong.

“As you wish, milady.”

-/-

The late afternoon lunch (or is it early dinner considering the time?) is awkward as hell. They’re sitting at a small, supposedly cozy table in the midst of the most romantic patio ever created (think of all the string lights in the world and then double it) with wine and cider in their glasses and good food on the table in front of them.

Emma wants to run away.

She can’t.

It really freaking sucks.

And it doesn’t help that Killian keeps looking at her with these big blue eyes that she doesn’t normally see. He looks earnest almost, and she doesn’t think Killian Jones has been earnest a day in his life.

Then again, how much does she know?

“Oh, this is so romantic,” Mary Margaret sighs. “I’m so glad we won this trip.”

“Does romance include two of your mates sitting at the table with you?” Killian asks. “Dave was playing footsy with me earlier we’re so cramped in here.”

“Was that you?” David hisses, cheeks going red, and Emma starts to laugh. That’s the best thing she’s heard all day.

“Yes, it is romantic even with you and Emma here. And with David somehow mistaking your leg with mine.”

“In my defense, Killian’s calves are only a little bigger than yours, sweetheart.”

“I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.”

“Flattered, of course,” Killian says. “I have bloody fantastic legs. Ask Swan here. She felt them up last night.”

Emma kicks out her foot at Killian under the table, not one hundred percent sure she’s actually hitting his leg, but then she sees the slight wince. Gotcha.

“So, what are we doing after this?” Emma asks to change the subject. “Another hike? More apple picking? Second dinner?”

Mary Margaret sighs, “a carriage ride back to the hotel, but they’re going to take us the scenic route.”

“Of course they are,” Emma mutters, stabbing her food and stuffing it into her mouth. She’s going to need more wine.

-/-

The carriage ride is worse than the dinner. For one, the horses smell horrible, much worse than the food, and the carriage is somehow smaller than their table. She’s pressed completely up against Killian, their sides aligned, and he has his arm over her shoulder while they share a blanket. She tried to refuse, but it’s gotten really cold. Her nose and her fingers are going to fall off soon, and she’s as zipped up as she can be.

David and Mary Margaret practically make out across from them, and even though Emma knows more about their sex life than she would ever want to know, sitting his close to it as a horse drags them along the road is not something she’s comfortable with.

“Make it stop,” she murmurs into Killian’s shoulder, half to keep her from having to look at David and Mary Margaret but mostly to keep her nose warm.

“I’m afraid we have to ride this one out, love. If you want, we could share our own kiss…again.”

She hits his thigh underneath the blanket. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whatever helps you sleep through the night.”

-/-

She doesn’t sleep through the night.

She’s too aware of her surroundings, of the warm body a few inches from her own.

It’s all too much, even if he didn’t try to steal the covers tonight, and if she wasn’t so damn stubborn, she’d sleep on the floor. She told herself she would do that tonight, but now it feels like admitting defeat.

Emma doesn’t like to admit defeat.

-/-

They go for another hike the next morning, their last morning in Vermont.

Emma sticks next to David the entire time, asking him mundane questions she doesn’t care about just to keep the conversation flowing and to keep Killian from making any jokes she doesn’t want him to make. It works, mostly, and Emma is even able to enjoy herself and the view for a lot of it. Boston can be gorgeous, but she’s going to miss a lot of this.

It’s the picture perfect dream, but Emma knows perfection doesn’t exist. And in pictures, it’s almost always photoshopped.

Doesn’t make it any less stunning as she stares out at it all, and it doesn’t make her want the picture perfect dream any less. The one where she isn’t so scared of getting hurt again and where she lets herself have fun, lets herself feel safe.

Lets her heart in on the decision making with her head.

-/-

Emma sleeps on most of the car ride back to Boston, and when she wakes up, it’s with a sore neck and tired eyes. It’s also in front of her apartment. She thanks the Nolans for the weekend, and very slowly, it dawns on her that Killian is no longer in the car. They must have dropped him off first, and she doesn’t know why, but it stings a bit that she doesn’t get to say goodbye to him as well.

That’s the lack of sleep talking, obviously.

Emma would never miss saying goodbye to Killian because that would mean she was going to miss his presence. She wouldn’t do that, though. Of course not. Because she didn’t have a good time when he was around. He didn’t make her smile at all this weekend.

He never makes her smile at all.

If Emma was using her own superpower to detect lies, there would be a blaring red light over her head with a little bell blaring in her ears.

She is ignoring it in favor of stuffing everything about this weekend in her bag and not looking into it. It was pretty. Nice pictures were taken, good food was had, and nothing else happened.

(Ding, ding, ding.)

-/-

Life returns to normal. She goes to work, goes to the gym, is occasionally dragged out to bars and clubs with her friends on the nights she isn’t working.

(She does finally get that guy from two weeks ago, and the paycheck is worth the struggle.)

Killian is around a lot more than he usually is. He’s in school getting his degree in software engineering on some scholarship he got from his service in the Navy, and he usually bartends at night. That job fizzled out, though, so when they all have pizza night or go out or meet up for lunch, he’s usually there.

Emma finds it odd, but she doesn’t mind.

She doesn’t pay much attention to him because she’s making a conscious effort specifically not to pay attention to him, not until he misses a fantastic opportunity to make an innuendo, and she realizes he hasn’t been making a lot of those lately. They’re there, sure, but not in as high of a quantity as they usually are.

It’s weird, but the weirdest thing about it all is how much she misses them.

Huh.

When did that happen?

When did the flirting stop annoying her and start making her laugh? When did she start liking it?

Liking him?

The thought comes to her without true warning and without permission. It’s wiggled its way out of the deep caverns of her mind and made it to the surface, gasping for air so it can live out in the open. She has a physical reaction to it, her hands coming to cover her mouth as she inhales a deep breath that has everyone looking away from the TV to look at her.

“You alright?” Ruby asks from her spot on David and Mary Margaret’s couch.

“I’m fine,” Emma lies, knowing her friends won’t push her further. They’ve known her long enough to know not to do that too often. “Just need some water.”

She gets up from her chair and walks toward the kitchen, her mind running faster than Usain Bolt, and she tries to focus on pouring herself a glass of water and on the football game that’s on. She doesn’t even really like football, but it’s kind of a fall tradition around here. She just has to go with it.

Everything is fine. This is fine.

This is…this is crazy. It’s even crazier that she can’t tell if her body is experience fear, joy, or some insane mixture of both bottled up with all of the adrenaline it can muster.

“You sure you’re alright, love?” Killian asks as he walks into the kitchen puts his plate in the sink. Of course he followed her in here. He, unlike Ruby, Mary Margaret, and David, has no qualms about bothering her. “You look a bit flushed. You’ve gone red around your cheeks.”

“Fine,” she lies again. “I’m fine.”

If she says that word enough, it’ll be true.

“Are you certain because I – ”

“Why don’t you flirt with me anymore?” she blurts before she can stop herself. She must be going crazy because this is insane. Who has taken over her body, and can she get it back please? Preferably before she does something stupid like kissing him again.

Then again, that wasn’t all stupid. It felt pretty damn good.

Killian arches his brow, his forehead wrinkling, and she knows she’s about to get some dumbass answer. He scratches behind his ear with his prosthetic. “Because if I’m to win your heart Emma, as I’d like to, I’d like to do it in a way that doesn’t piss you off, as much as I do love that. It’s quite entertaining for me, especially when you go red as you are now. It’s a becoming color on you, but I realize my methods of getting your attention were a bit childish.”

Well, okay then. Maybe not a dumbass answer.

This is a weird, weird few minutes.

“Are you trying to tell me you’ve been doing the adult equivalent of pulling pigtails on a playground?’

He shrugs. “Aye, I guess.”

Emma, once more, doesn’t know what to do or say, so she lets instinct drive her. She steps forward and places her hand on his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. They’re ridiculously blue, and it’s just not fair. “Asking me to dinner would have worked much better than that. Food has always been the way to my heart, especially if it’s cheap, greasy, and will make my stomach hurt afterward.”

She leaves the ball in his court (or in his possession on the field since they’re watching football and her sports metaphors should make sense, and she’s 82% sure that’s a correct metaphor), and walks away before being pulled back by her wrist until she’s looking at him again.

Once more, he’s earnest, and she’s still getting used to that.

And those blue eyes. Those too. They don’t have to be all devilish all the time.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me, love?” Killian asks, hopeful, kind smile on his face.

Genuine. He’s genuine, and she feels that little flutter that she hasn’t felt in awhile, not since she kissed him against the apple tree to prove a point to herself that she wouldn’t be affected by kissing him.

Emma really is a bad liar, especially when she’s lying to herself.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#leaves are changing (and maybe he is too)#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #wellhellotragic

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leomitchellart · 4 years

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So… about this latest Inktober controversy….

Time to begrudgingly chuck in my two penneth… (Remeber you can always press “J” to skip this post altogether)

As most of you may or may not know, Alphonso Dunn released a Youtube video wherein he publicly accused Jake Parker, and creator of the Inktober challenge, of plagiarising his book. Both of these men are public figures, artists specialising in pen & ink. In the video Dunn looks at the preview pages and flip through footage of Parker’s “Inktober All Year Round” and says they draw many similarities in the illustrations, language and layout that he used in his own book, “Pen & Ink Drawing”. Parker’s book was set to this month. Hense why Dunn only used footage and not a physical copy.

Since the video’s release, the art community has been very spilt down the middle. The book’s publisher has halted the launch of Parker’s book until the matter can be investigated. Even DeviantArt cancelled their own Inktober event thing (I’ll admit I don’t keep up with these things DA keeps doing). Parker has since released a statement in the matter. Now it’s up to the courts to decide what’s happening next. The video itself is an hour long, but it’s crucial to see it yourself.

People are, understandably, outraged after seeing it. This seems like a shitty thing to rip-off Dunn - not to mention stupid. Since Dunn is the more popular pen & ink artist with more social media followers and name recognition. Many have called to boycott inktober and condemn Parker. I’ll admit, I was right alongside them at first, at least for feeling outraged. The similarities are there. But if YMS’s Kimba video has taught me anything, it’s that, even if an accusation of plagiarism may be obvious at a cursory glance, sometimes it’s important to take a more critical eye and do more research to learn that things aren’t as cut and dry as they first seem. If there’s a lesson I can take away from the internet as a whole, it’s that no one thinks about the consequences of mob mentality.

The most common defence of Parker is that because they’re both books about pen and ink drawing, then they’re inevitably going to be similar. I’ll admit that, when you pick-up so many art books, a lot of them will cover the same basic grounds of materials, tutorials, strokes, techniques etc. The parts about rendering textures on spheres and cubes isnt new. Look up “texture study” and you’ll see so many examples of artists rendering these kinds of things digitally. I’ve also noticed a common theme of people more formally educated in art pointing out how none of these are original. Everything down to the steps and illustrations are things they’ve learned from years ago. Since I'm a pen & ink artist, inspired by my love of comics, I have quite a few books about inking: Dunn’s included. I own both his books and still highly recommend them. I didn't even preorder Parker’s book. Ironically because I didn't think it could offer anything new that my other books hadn’t already.

While Ethan Becker took the time to cross-examine Dunn and Parker’s books with several others, there weren’t many of the ones I actually owned. So I looked to my shelves to see what I could find. Books like:

“The Art of Comic Book Inking” by Gary Martin & Steve Rude

“How Comics Work” by Dave Gibbons & Tim Pilcher

“The DC Comics guide to Inking Comics” by Klaus Janson

“Making Comics” by Scott McCloud

“Stan Lee’s How to Draw Comics”

I’m sure there’s plenty more examples out there. I was planning to go through all of these and take pictures. But ultimately that’s not the core point of these post. Plus it would’ve taken WAY too long and this post itself, is long enough.

Of course, none of the them are 100% close to Dunn’s in the way they’re displayed. Not as close as Parker’s could be considered. That being said, I know Dunn is trying to claim that he invented these techniques. The nucleus of the issue is how similar they are in terms of order and how these pages are displayed. Some I can chock-up to standard practice, while others seem more coincidental.

If there’s one thing I’m adamant about, it’s that I think that Dunn should’ve messaged Parker first before making the accusation public. Some try to dispute that this would've made it easier for Dunn to be “silenced”, whatever that means; but that sounds a bit conspiratorial to me. Ideally, you confront him about it in private, if he makes any threats or blows you off, get your lawyer on the phone and then make the video. Not only is it the more civil thing to do - but it’s the smarter thing to do. This is a serious legal matter, not just internet drama. While I’m sure Dunn had no intention of tearing Parker down or getting a mob onto him, that’s unfortunately what’s happened. A backlash both from the general artisan community and several companies. Wherein it was left to Parker himself to make this an official legal matter. If Parker’s found not guilty, then this could easily leave the gate open for him to sue Dunn for damages, loss of revenue, defamation of character or whatever else, should he see fit. As could the publishers, given how this affected their sales. Companies responded to the accusation of the video alone, before an investigation could be launched. Sure, it wouldn't be “acting the bigger man” but he’d be well within his right to do it. Dunn showed that Jake has mentioned him before, shown admiration for his career and referenced him in other posts. If it comes to light in court, that Dunn is even cited as an inspiration or source in the book itself, then it’s case closed.

Then there’s the other possibility that Parker might not have done this on his own, but that he has a team behind the book. If that’s the case, the most I can accuse Parker of is being a hack. I worry Dunn has kneecapped himself for just how badly he’s handled this situation. Made worse by him not having an actual physical copy to assess and just had footage of preview pages to go on. So far, the circumstances don’t seem on his favour.

I don’t think ill of Dunn. I do think he believes he’s been wronged and no malice in his intentions. I just think he’s made some critical errors on how to handled this. As for Parker himself, I couldn't give a donkey’s doo-dah about him. I’m sure you could accuse me of playing devil’s advocate earlier, but to me, he was the guy who released the annual prompt list. If it really does turn out that he’s a plagiarist and had malicious intent, then fuck ‘im. I never regarded him as an inspiration of mine or paid much attention to him outside of that. It was the community that made Inktober what it is. I’ve never met Parker. Maybe he’s a cool guy? Maybe he’s a bellend? I don’t know.

Granted this isn't the first time Parker has proved himself to be a controversial figure: - Last year people were upset about him trademarking (not copywriting, as many have erroneously claimed) the word “Inktober” and some artists were stopped from selling their related work or zines. Parker would issue a statement: claiming the takedowns were a mistake of “overzealous lawyers” and it’s just a matter of the logo being trademarked. People can sell their Inktober works and even mention they are Inktober-related. Just not use the official logo. On the one hand, from a business standpoint, I get it. It’s the bare minimum you need to do to protect your IP, especially when you have a store. BUT, like most people, I don’t like how, what’s intended as a community challenge, has slowly become more of a brand associated with one man. Hardly a surprise it left a bad taste in so many people’s mouths. But, since it doesn't actually effect anyone’s ability to take part in the challenge, outside of personal principle, I went ahead with it the previous year.

- The year before, when asked if one can do Inktober digitally, Parker said the following:

I know some are still bitter about that, but speaking as someone who inks traditionally and digitally, this came across as needless whinging and blowing things out of proportion. Claiming that Jake had derided digital artists and said they were invalid etc etc. Take it from me, challenging yourself to try out different methods to ink traditionally can greatly improve the work you do digitally. It’s like how learning traditional fundamentals of art can still be applied to digital. Plus he never said “No.” he just gave valid reasons about how it makes it a different experience. That said, if you’re someone who can’t afford any kind of inking equipment or pens and only have a selected application to draw on - then none of this applies to you. Just the aforementioned few who took it upon themselves to get angry over nothing. Recently I’ve heard from subscribers of his newsletter that he’s now embraced the idea of people doing inktober digitally, to the point of selling digital brushes for inktober. I’m sure some will call this “backsliding” or “money grubbing” because people aren’t allowed to change their minds or update their statements.

For weeks I’ve been torn on what to do, not being able to solidify one stance over another. One minute I thought #JusticeForAlphonsoDunn then I wonder “Wait maybe I should look again?” to “But wait, those are way too similar!” Having splinters in my arse from sitting on the fence for so long. The longer this went on, however, I began to realise that I can’t take one stance over another. This case is far too muddy and complicated. I don’t have enough sufficient knowledge or evidence. Nor do any of you. We literally only have Dunn’s video to go on. While it’s a good start, it’s not enough to be taken 100% as gospel when it’s the only thing to hand.

As previously mentioned, a lot of artists have decided to not take part in Inktober at all, or follow different prompt lists. That’s completely fine. A lot of them are based around a specific theme: halloween, kinky stuff, bears, transformers, OCs, Disney or whatever. That has massive appeal. I just can’d do it myself. I prefer the focus on random words, rather than all centred on a single subject; allowing me to be creative with my ideas and execution. I actually did try to make a list of my own random words. Problem is, I worried that because I was choosing my own, I might be subconsciously bias towards certain prompts and not truly challenging myself. Even narrowing down my options was taking too long. In the end…. I’ve decided to just do the official prompts again this year.

For me, that’s what it ultimately came down to. TIME. It’s the middle of September. I can’t afford to wait for the court case to be settled. No other prominent artists I respect have released their own prompt lists. I know there’s been some shitty people who are condemning this choice. Attacking others, accusing them of supporting plagiarism, looking to block anyone who does the official prompts. Even trying to make this a racial issue. Just…. no.

If someone doesn’t want to take part in Inktober, that’s fine. If someone wants to do the official prompts, that’s fine. If someone wants to do their own prompts, that’s fine.

Don’t go around aggressively making snap judgements or accusing people of taking a side. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable. This has been a shit year, let people enjoy something.

If you look at this situation and it makes you feel angry, and you don’t feel comfortable in taking part in a challenge because of it’s creator. I get that, I literally get that. It’s why I haven't done Mermay. And please don’t mention Pinktober, I’m aware of it, but given his insta video on the subject and the things he said, I quickly came to the conclusion that I can’t take this person seriously. I’m sure this might make me seem hypocritical, but how this differs, if only for me, is the sheer amount Inktober means to me. It’s more than a simple challenge. Inktober's the one thing I’ve been most excited about all year. As it was ruined for me in 2019, when I lost my home and I didn't get to complete every prompt. (Long story, I’m okay now). As we all know, 2020, has been an AWFUL year. We’ve got to take whatever joy we can. As I’ve looked longer at the official prompts, I found ideas I’m really excited for.

Once I started to really dedicate myself to it, it became a massive event. I hype myself up as I prepare for the busy month. Buy in supplies, clean the house and workspace, cook and freeze meals in bulk to save time, printing off a sheet that allows me to jot down ideas as I plan ahead. Then once it’s done, after so much work, it makes the reward all the sweeter: Ordering a takeaway, celebrating a great halloween night and still rocking those vibes throughout November. Feeling proud of myself for doing it and seeing myself improve my technique, discipline and earning a few lie-ins to make up for the sleep I lost working. I’m like a kid waiting for Christmas. That said, don’t think that there’s something wrong with you when you understandably can’t dedicate that amount time for a simple art challenge. If anything that’s plenty of reason to why you’re smarter than me. You have a life and don’t push yourself too much.

Now, I need to crack on with the preparations. If you want to boycott Jake Parker, just not buying any of his products should be enough. Doing the inktober challenge doesn't bring attention to him, as I doubt most people even know him as the creator, nor does it even line his pockets. I just hate how cancel culture can do such serious damage like this and then try and put pressure on others to act accordingly without even doing any research themselves.

As long as you’re not harassing anybody. Just do what YOU want to do. That’s fine.

#Inktober #Inktober 2020 #My two penneth #Jake Parker #alphonso dunn

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waitineedaname · 5 years

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@notedchampagne and I have been au talking as always and we got on the topic of this post, specifically the high school reunion one for davekat and like

Karkat's charged with organizing their twentieth anniversary bc he was class president so that's like. his job. and he absolutely dreads it but he does it anyway, he's like "UGH I really don't want to deal with all these assholes from high school but if I don't do it, Vriska will" so he schedules it and stuff and it's overall really nice, there's good food, good drinks, good music, everyone's having a nice time, mingling is happening. He's taking a break from catching up with people he hadn't kept up with after graduation and he's wandered over to the snack table when the person he was dreading seeing pops up at his side: Dave Strider

he hadn't kept up with Dave after high school per se. It wasn't like they called or anything, that would be weird since they very firmly Were Not Friends. The opposite in fact: Dave was the bane of his existence since like seventh grade. But he hadn't been able to keep himself from googling the dude who'd tormented him for six years, and to his regret he discovered the prick actually managed to become a pretty successful photographer. Good for him. He definitely wasn't jealous or anything. (He has no reason to be jealous, he's got a budding career in the TV industry writing scripts, he's doing p well for himself)

so Karkat's about to nope the fuck out of there before Dave can talk to him but it's Too Late. Dave starts talking to him. But it's not the douchey teasing he was expecting? No jabs about his planning or his looks or what he was eating. Just friendly chatting about the reunion and reminiscing about the chaos of their high school class and asking him where life had taken him. Karkat quickly discovers he's..... actually kinda nice to talk to? He's pretty funny and seems to have grown out of the fake confidence he exuded in high school, now just the kind of confident of a man who was finally comfortable in himself. And he seemed to be enjoying Karkat's conversation too, laughing at his jokes in a non-mocking way (definitely a first for them), and complimenting his tie

before he knows it, it's time for Karkat to give the speech he had to prepare and play the video of memories from their class (clips/pictures/memes/news from when they were in high school), so he excuses himself to go to the front of the room. He's p sure everyone there knows him but just in case, he introduces himself as "that asshole you somehow elected to be class president, Karkat Vantas." Dave immediately chokes on his cheese and crackers in the back of his room

(this paragraph entirely courtesy of Sam) and then once karkat finishes his speech and exchanges light convo with other people he walks outside to take a breather to where he finds dave sitting outside on a bench and dave turns around like oh hey! karkat! and karkat just barely smiles and asks if he can join dave on the polluted night

once they’re outside and Dave’s actually aware of who he’s talking to, they kind of have a heart of heart. Dave apologizes for all the shit he used to give him, and Karkat begrudgingly does the same (it was a two way street if they’re being completely honest, neither of them are sure who started it). They talk about both being insecure idiots in high school that took it out on others and mention how they find it p cool how each of them have ended up so successful, and Dave eventually manages to work up the courage to ask him for his number and does he maybe wanna meet up some time next week for coffee?

#davekat #homestuck #dave strider #karkat vantas #sweet christ i didn't realize how much we'd written until i put all in the same post kldsfjsdklfjds #to clarify: sam and i were bouncing this idea back and forth #and then when they'd gone to bed i outlined it bc i couldn't think of anything clever to add #resulting in the above #so this is the outcome of our combined brain cells' efforts #okay to reblog #should i put this in my writing tag #yeah sure why not #my writing

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davidbuddbg · 6 years

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Chapter 8: What if it’s worth it?

Quick note: You can find all of the chapters under the following link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/174400042-what-if-it%27s-worth-it

I asked, or rather demanded, the guards to remain in the car. They begrudgingly complied to my orders although it was evident they felt nervous going against my father’s wishes.

From the outside, the bar didn’t appear special in any way. Opening the door, I was asked to show my ID before I could enter and the moment I complied, I realized giving out my true identity could backfire. Truth be told, I was surprised they even let me in. I was wearing yoga pants with a black t-shirt, and for the first time in ages, my brown hair was tied in a ponytail. This was my out-of-my-mind worried look, not the going-to-a-bar-to-have-fun look.

Inside, the bar was much more luxurious than I’d expected. The walls were of a rich, dark purple colour with golden frames. But most of all, the music wasn’t too loud and I was thankful for that.

I walked around the main floor, as if looking for a friend before sitting down by the bar. David wasn’t here. Now on the high bar stool, I saw stairs that led downwards to the VIP area but I’d have to find an excuse to go there.

“Miss, what would you like to drink?” The blonde barmaid asked me with an American accent, interrupting my thoughts.

I gave the bottles on the shelf behind the bar a quick look. “A glass of that old whisky, please,” I ordered, pointing at a brownish bottle. At this point, I didn’t know what to do so getting fucked up didn’t seem the worst of ideas.

Within little more than an hour, one glass turned into five glasses and I was almost forgetting the VIP area downstairs. I tried to think of a way to get in there without anyone noticing but my mind was blank. “Chanel?” A female voice called out, abruptly bringing me back from my thoughts.

I spun around on the bar stool to face her. It was another barmaid, in her early twenties which short red hair. “I’m sorry, miss,” the barmaid quickly blathered, her cheeks blushing. “I mistook you for someone else.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I grinned. This actually afforded me an opportunity. “Was it Chanel Dyson you mistook me for?” I asked as the girl made her way behind the bar and started mixing up some drinks.

“Why, yes.” She seemed somewhat surprised but her answer made my blood boil. “Do you know her?”

“Curiously enough, I was supposed to meet with her tonight but she’s over thirty minutes late.” I lied smoothly enough, sounding disappointed. Did Dave meet up with Chanel? And why didn’t he tell me about it? I hated Chanel, but I wasn’t the overly jealous kind, I wouldn’t have stopped him from seeing her or anything.

“Oh, I’m sorry you missed her.” She said softly while adding different alcohols into the cocktail shaker. “She left early tonight, didn’t seem to be feeling well,” the barmaid revealed, oblivious to the fact that this was exactly what I needed to know.

I quickly paid for my drinks before exiting the bar in a hurry. I was now feeling the effects of the alcohol on my balance and I regretted having been so careless. I took my phone from my bag and realized it was almost five in the morning and I was supposed to be at my internship at eight. I slid through my address book until I found a contact I had never paid much attention to and without surprise, she lived exactly where I expected someone like her to.

“To the South Bank Tower, please.” Being a weeknight in autumn, the streets, while not entirely deserted, were relatively empty. Although the drive only lasted a few minutes, I had bitten through all my nails by the time we arrived. “Just wait in the car, please. I’m meeting with a friend.” I quickly exited the vehicle before they could protest.

Now inside the luxurious apartment building, I took the elevator to the fifteenth floor and the soft elevator music was irritating me further, if that was even possible. Stepping out of the lift, I made sure there were no cameras before opening my handbag and taking out the gun with the silencer and finally ringing the doorbell.

Chanel didn’t open the door right away and for a moment I worried I had the wrong address or that she wasn’t home. But at the same time, where would she be at five in the morning on a Thursday night?! Finally, she opened the door, appearing quite annoyed at someone showing up at this hour but her stance immediately changed when the cold tip of my gun touched her forehead.

“Hello, Chanel,” I chirruped, a large smile plastered on my lips. “Aren’t you inviting me in?”

Scared by my sight, she let me in silence and I locked the door behind ourselves, then putting the housekey in my bag. None of was leaving until I had what I wanted. I made sure to spot her cell phone on a small table by the entrance.

Now inside, I realized her flat was actually furnished to my taste. Lots of modern and dark furniture with glass details anywhere, but I wasn’t here to congratulate her on the interior of her home. “Sit!” I ordered, tilting my head at a black chair in the living room side of the loft. Chanel, still silent, stared at me with confusion for a few seconds before complying.

I remained standing in the middle of the room. First, I was drunk and worried that if I sat down, I wouldn’t be able to get up without help. Second, I had no idea what the fuck people did after threatening someone with a gun. “Where’s David?” I queried aggressively, my gun still pointed at her but she was grinning now and I finally noticed the empty glass bottles on the floor next to the couch. So, we had both been drinking.

“I knew you guys were fucking!” Chanel blurted out proudly in her nasal voice, as if she was the first one to figure that out.

“At this point, everyone knows Chanel. That’s not impressive.” I said acidly, impatient. “So, where is he?” I insisted, tightening my jaw.

“Well, Alma,” she slurred drunkenly, making my name sound like an insult. “He and I met for a few drinks,” she continued, still with that sassy tone of hers. “If you know what I mean,” she added with a wink before looking straight into my eyes, wanting to see me hurt.

“Thank you for your candour, Chanel.” I tried keeping my voice calm, but it was taking all of my strength not to strangle her right now. “But I want to know where he is, nothing else.” I roared, my blood boiling but Chanel just leaned back against the chair, seemingly unafraid. Either, I wasn’t scary enough, even with a loaded gun in my hand or she was too drunk to realize what was going on.

“Why don’t you check in my bed, Alma?”

I shut my eyes tightly for a couple of seconds, biting my tongue until I could feel the taste of blood invade my mouth. I tried to remain poised, but I was mad now. Without a further thought, my arm drifted towards the kitchen and I removed the security before shooting at a picture hanging on the fridge, leaving it with a hole right where Chanel’s face had been. Hate and adrenalin made a good team, indeed.

I turned back to her, and noticed she was now scared. Good, she’d finally gotten the message, I thought drily. But somehow, she still didn’t seem ready to comply. Most likely, there was someone else involved she was even more scared off.

“No worries, honey,” I finally spoke, stealing her sassy tone. “I’ve got all the time in the world.” I was lying, I didn’t and time was running out. But I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. Shoot her, and then what?

I hesitated about her tying her to the chair, but looking at her I doubted she would dare do anything crazy. Hell, Chanel was sobbing now and it was the first time she expressed her feelings without throwing a tantrum. The noise of her sniffing was driving me mad and I could feel the effects of the drugs dissipating but I hadn’t thought to bring any with me.

I started pacing around the living room, my eyes on Chanel at all times. I tried calling Dave again but it went straight to voicemail. “Shit!” I thought about calling Vicky but decided against it. David would surely have told me if he was with her, besides it was too early to call her, I’d just wake up the kids.

Trying to direct my thoughts elsewhere, I started rummaging through Chanel’s stuff, the gun still pointed at her head. Opening a drawer next to the TV, I was surprised to find sex toys. I mean, what freak keeps those in the living room? But then I noticed a pair of sturdy looking handcuffs with leopard plush and decided to keep them. After all, they might come in handy.

A couple of hours passed and Chanel had stopped sobbing, but still wasn’t talking. Instead, her eyes were firmly set on the locked front door. Was she expecting someone?

“You know, if someone comes looking for you, I’ll have to shoot them.” I sounded standoffishly, but I was just exhausted. I kept worrying about Dave’s whereabouts and to make things worse, it seemed all this stupid act I had put would lead me anywhere.

The clock was ticking and I was gradually getting more and more impatient. Should I kick her? Threaten her family? Shoot her on the knee? It was morning already and I still had no news about David. Was he dead? This was the first time I was considering that option and I swallowed my bile to keep me from crying.

“I’ll take you to him,” Chanel announced out of nowhere. Her face was strained and the tears had dried on her cheeks. She looked awful but I was sure I didn’t look any better.

Within minutes, Chanel and I were headed to the elevator, the tip of the gun touching the back of her skull. I couldn’t allow her to escape, not now. Not when I hadn’t heard from David in over twelve hours.

We descended to the lowest floor, the car park. I made sure we were still alone before we walked over to her red BMW. Chanel took the driver’s seat and I sat down behind her, so I would be hidden by the tinted windows.

In silence, except for Chanel’s sobbing, she drove us downtown, not far from the bar I’d been in earlier. “I’m sorry, Alma,” she whimpered before sniffing. Through the back mirror, I could see her puffy red eyes and actually believed her, but it didn’t matter.

She parked the car in front of a building on Saltmarch Street. It was undergoing remodelling works but they seemed to have been abandoned long ago. Curiously, there was almost no one outside although it was Friday morning and the streets should have been full with fast-walking people.

“I won’t hesitate to shoot, if you run.” I warned her, still in the car. She nodded with fear. There was no way I’d shoot her outside in daylight, but she didn’t need to know that.

She led me to the building’s basement. The construction works had obviously stopped months ago. It was empty expect for some random wooden pallets and spider webs. I followed her inside but there was no sight of David. Chanel started crying harder as we were almost finished with our tour. “I’m sorry Alma,” she sniffed again before gulping. “They told me they’d leave him here after beating him up.”

So, there was no fuckery involved. This was much worse. “Who’s they?” I demanded with authority, paying attention to my surroundings and looking for anything that’d prove Dave had been here.

“Luke Aikens,” Chanel admitted in a small voice. I didn’t know who the fuck that was, but she seemed to be quite afraid of him. Just as I thought we had been around the entire basement, Chanel stopped in her tracks and I almost collided with her.

Confused, I pushed her out the way to see what was going on. There was blood. Blood on the wall and on the wooden pallets. I bit my lower lip to keep myself from yelling.

“I’m sorry,” Chanel bemoaned again but I didn’t care. I shook my head with agitation, trying to clear my thoughts but it didn’t work. I looked through my bag until I found the handcuffs I’d stolen from her flat.

She was looking at me, too scared and too tired to say anything. I pulled on some metal pipes, to make sure they were sturdy. Luckily for me, they didn’t budge. “Come here.” I ordered coldly and Chanel complied, crying again. With shaky hands, I tied her wrists around the pipes.

“Don’t leave me here,” Chanel pleaded and I genuinely felt distressed for her, but I couldn’t let her go. She was the only person who knew anything about Dave’s whereabouts last night and I couldn’t risk not finding her again. When she noticed I was really going to leave her in there, her expression turned into a cruel grimace. “It’s funny how it’s always women who harm other women,” Chanel spat out, her fears having shifted into anger.

Without a word, I left her in there and walked through the maze this basement was until I reached the front door and found myself outside again, under the daylight. The streets remained extraordinarily empty and quiet which really made me believe something was wrong.

I breathed out a few times, hoping it would calm me down before I typed Rayburn’s phone number on my iPhone and let it ring.

“Look,” DS Rayburn groaned into my ear, agitated. “I don’t have time right now.”

“The bomb-maker, it’s Nadia.” I announced out of the blue. “She’s the one who made the bomb for the Euston train and St Matthews.” I jabbered into the phone while turning on the engine.

The line was quiet for a few seconds, but I could hear hushed voices in the background. “I don’t have time for your lies right now, Alma.” Louise growled. I was about to start yelling at her but then I heard someone shout my name through the phone. Was that Vicky? Why was Vicky with Rayburn? Immediately, I hung up on DS Rayburn and called Vicky instead. She picked up after the very first ring, panting.

“What’s going on?!”

“It’s David,” Vicky cried out before saying something else but I couldn’t make out the words.

“What’s with David? Where is he?” I asked urgently as I could hear the background noise getting louder.

“Pope’s Square!” Vicky shouted before someone took her phone and hung up on me.

With trembling hands, I looked for Pope’s Square on Chanel’s Nav and realized it was just a couple of blocks away. Nervously, I started driving in that direction, thankful for the fact that Chanel’s car was an automatic.

Just as I turned into the first street to my right, I realized there was Police barriers installed everywhere. “Fuck!” I hit the steering wheel with all my strength in anger, hurting my wrist in the process. “Fuck!”

Some people were asking to be let through but the Police wasn’t letting anyone inside. I backed away slowly before noticing an underground parking entrance about twenty meters away. Bingo!

The fatigue now completely forgotten, I drove straight into the garage, taking a ticket before parking the car in the first spot I found, not bothering straightening it. My steps resonated on the concrete floor as I ran around, trying to find the pedestrian exit, hoping it would be within the closed off area. I walked up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator and breathed out with relief when I left the garage and found myself close to Pope’s square, inside the security perimeter.

I started running around, using the noise as my only means of direction. Within a couple of minutes, I saw all the Police vehicles parked around Pope’s Square.

“Back off!” One of the armed Police officers ordered me. Just then, alerted by the noise, Vicky turned around and spotted me. “Alma!”

Relying on the thought that the Police wouldn’t shoot at me, I ran up to Vicky. She was weeping as she pointed to the centre of the small park. I followed her finger and saw him. His face was bloodied, most likely from a nose bleed, and he was wearing an explosive belt, but it was closer to a vest. I wanted to scream, to shout or even cry, but I stood there looking at him with big eyes and no sound coming out my open mouth.

Dave finally raised his eyes from the ground, and he saw me looking at him in fear. His face broke and I could see him bite his lip as not to cry. I wanted to let him know that I was not afraid of him, but afraid for him, but then DS Rayburn grabbed me the collar of my coat and pulled me back.

“What on earth are you doing here, Alma?” DS Rayburn hissed.

“David is innocent, he’s not the bomb maker. It’s Nadia!” I jabbered nervously as I caught another glimpse of David from afar. He was alone, bloodied and crying, and nobody seemed to care.

“He’s wearing an explosive vest, Alma,” DS Rayburn said softly, almost condescendingly as she rubbed my arm. “He’s played us all, not just you,” she murmured, as if that would reassure me.

As I was about to yell at there, DCI Sharma arrived and started talking to Dave on the radio. I quickly walked over to him. There was point in arguing with Rayburn.

Dave was explaining how he’d woken up with the vest on after meeting with Chanel and being beaten up by Luke Aikens’ men.

“He’s lying!” DS Rayburn spat out, looking at David with hate. “He’s been lying to us all along!”

“He isn’t fucking lying!” I interjected, tired of Louise’s behaviour. “Just ask Chanel Dyson, I could bring you to her!” DCI Sharma listened but didn’t seem to care all too much. I guess my credibility was very low right now. I was about to tell I had Chanel locked up, when David spoke again on the radio.

“His men, they broke into my flat. They tampered with my gun, the Makarov.” Dave insisted, his voice never faltering. “Just ask Vicky or Alma, they know.”

DS Rayburn was about to protest, but DCI Sharma decided to comply with David’s demand. “What is he talking about?” He asked us.

“The other day, they went to have dinner at my house and he had that wound on the right side of his brain.” Vicky explained, not bothering to pause and breathe. We didn’t have that luxury right now.

“That afternoon, I had gone to his flat and found him lying on the ground. He’d tried to shoot himself, but the bullets, they had been replaced by blanks,” I detailed Vicky’s story further. “Why would he have used a blank?” I asked rhetorically. “The only answer is that he didn’t know,” I added quickly. DCI Sharma nodded at us before talking on the radio again.

“We’ve just been told you’re suicidal, and now here you are in a suicide vest,” DCI Sharma calmly spoke over the radio, distorting our words.

“Aikens has the pistol,” David adds, pleadingly. “But I still have the bullets. That’s all the proof you need.” I dared looking at him again although I shouldn’t have. His arm, the one whose thumb was scotched to the switch, was trembling. Hell, his whole body was trembling because he was verge of crying. It simultaneously broke my heart and drove me mad.

“We know you broke into Julia Montague’s flat!” DS Rayburn announced accusingly over the radio, having taken it from DCI Sharma without me noticing.

Dave was slowly shaking his head, looking panicked before tears started flowing from his eyes. He explained through the sobs that he couldn’t trust Security Services so that’s why he had retrieved the kompromat. “It’s in my flat, in the downstairs bathroom above the spotlight.” Dave told DCI Sharma, who immediately asked for permission to search.

I turned around, away from the Police so they wouldn’t see my expression. What was he doing? He didn’t have the kompromat. I knew it because I had it! I turned towards David again and saw him make a weird gesture I didn’t understand, but Sharma changed channels on the radio.

“Tell the Police to hold back and not tamper with the apartment,” Dave asked Sharma, almost begging. I didn’t immediately understand what was happening until a couple of minutes later when the Police announced they had caught a man fitting Longcross’ description and that he was now in custody.

Next to me, Vicky instinctively grabbed my hand and squeezed it, celebrating this small victory but I saw DS Rayburn order the XPO team to hold off and I knew this was far from being won.

The radio emitted a small buzz and I heard Dave’s desperate voice again. “I don’t want anyone here getting hurt. My hand’s aching on the DMS,” David cried. “I want to talk to my wife, it’s maybe the last chance I get. Please.”

DCI Sharma seemed to hesitate for a couple of seconds before handing Vicky the radio and teaching her how to use it. I removed my hand from Vicky’s and walked back a little, wanting to give them some privacy but it was of little use because the radio was turned on too loud.

Dave was apologizing for having let her down. “I’m sorry I stopped being the man you loved because of what the war did to me,” David babbled rapidly, aware he didn’t have much time. Though his words weren’t directed at me, it broke my heart that even in such a situation, David still felt the need to apologize. “I failed as a husband and as a father, and that is the worst thing.” After those words, I forced my brain to lock out the rest of the conversation. I couldn’t take it, I wasn’t strong enough. But then Vicky handed me the radio and I stood there frozen.

“Alma, love,” Dave said softly, as if trying to calm me down. Behind me, I could hear Vicky urging Sharma and Rayburn to help him. “I know you know I lied to you, but it was real for me. My feelings for you, they’re real.” Dave’s voice faltered and I swallowed the saliva in my mouth to keep me from crying as well.

“It was real for me too, David,” I replied, hoping he could see me grin from the distance. “It still is.” DS Rayburn ripped the radio from my hand before I could hear David’s response. I wanted to throw a fit, but then I noticed one of the men from XPO walking towards David, protected by ballistic shields. Vicky had managed to convince them and for the first time, I found myself believing this might end well. This time, it was me who took Vicky’s hand and squeezed it.

The examination was taking a long time and from the distance, I wasn’t able to hear anything which just added to my aggravation. How sophisticated was the bomb? Could it be diffused? Would David be okay?

The man from XPO finally started walking back to us after around ten minutes but hearing David beg him to come back was too much for me and I couldn’t help the tears that escaped my eyes.

Daniel Chung, that was the man’s name, went to talk with DCI Sharma and DS Rayburn. I wanted to listen in on them, but Vicky pulled me back abruptly. “I’m going there, Alma,” she announced with a determined voice and it took me a few seconds to understand what ‘there’ meant.

“You cannot do that,” I blurted out when I finally understood. “If it goes off, Charlie and Ella loose both their parents. You cannot do that, Vicky!” I spoke quickly, reasoning with her and her face fell, realizing I was right.

I was only able to hear Daniel say there was an extremely high risk of detonation, before Sampson took over the radio talk. She coldly asked Dave if there were other bombers at large, if other attacks were planned and who’d made the bomb, but Dave just kept shaking his head, saying he didn’t know.

“I already told them, Sampson,” I interrupted rudely but we didn’t have time for niceties. “Nadia is the bomb maker, Chanel told me as much.” But just like the other Police officers, Sampson entirely ignored my words and asked for everyone to pull off.

Understanding what those words meant, I almost fainted. I knew the critical shot was authorized but I didn’t believe they’d actually resolve to that until now. “No, this can’t be it.” I started weeping quietly. Sampson put her arm around me to bring me behind the fence but I knew what would happen if I did. Without thinking it through, I pulled away from her and started running to David.

#david budd #davidbudd #davebudd #dave budd #richardmadden #richard madden #bodyguard #bbc bodyguard #BodyguardBBC #netflix bodyguard #bodyguardnetflix #budd #fanfiction #robbstark #robb stark #got #cinderella

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anotherfiveyears · 6 years

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21: Christmas Time (Is Here Again)

Christmas Eve 1996

"Jimmy! Shut up!" Dave hissed. Jimmy was drunkenly trying to climb Anna's old skate ramp while wearing the bottom half of a Santa costume and a ridiculous white beard. Dave was wearing the coat part of the costume while retrieving the ladder her dad always stored on the side of the garage. He hadn't seen Anna since the night she heard Everlong, but he now had enough liquid bravery in him to give her the gift he bought her back in LA over a month ago.

"Why doesn't Anna have a hot sister?" Jimmy whined, then immediately slipped off the icy ramp onto the snow bank below.

"Because her parents got it right the first time," Dave muttered, positioning the ladder just below Anna's childhood bedroom window. "Wait here." He climbed the ladder, his heart beating harder with every rung and carefully removed the window screen. Glancing down at Jimmy as he lay in the snow bank, he softly tapped on the glass as his best friend gave him thumbs up. The pink curtains swayed a little then pulled back and Dave's smile dropped when he was met with a man around his age wearing only boxers and a ferocious glare.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Dave gasped and slipped on the ladder rung, catching himself just before he fell several feet into the snow beside Jimmy.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man snapped when he ripped open the window.

"Doesn't matter who I am, who the fuck are you?" he shot back, hearing Anna's gasp from in the room.

"I'm Anne's boyfriend and I suggest you get the fuck away from-"

"Send him down here!" Jimmy yelled from his snow bank. "I'll kick his ass!"

"Kevin, stop. It's okay," Anna threw the covers back on her bed and Dave felt only a little consolation that she was wearing the ugliest flannel Christmas pajamas he had ever seen. "Just give us a minute," she said softly and gently placed her hand on Kevin's arm. He huffed and glared at Dave, ripping his shirt off the bed before leaving the room.

"What are you-"

"Boyfriend, Anna?" Dave whispered harshly.

"Yes, boyfriend," she shot back. "What are you doing?"

"Bringing you your present, but you obviously already-"

She reached out the window and took his hand. "David! You're freezing! Get in here!"

"Hi, Anna!" Jimmy called from below.

She leaned out of the window and groaned. "Hi, Jimmy! Go wait in the car, okay honey?"

He shot her some finger guns and pulled himself out of the snow, immediately slipping and falling back into the bank. His voice muffled by the snow drifted up to them, "I'm okay!"

"Oh my god. How are you two not dead yet?" she whispered and helped Dave climb through the window.

He ignored her question, still focused on the guy that was just in her bed. "Who the fuck is that guy?"

"His name is Kevin and he's really nice," she fumed, putting her hands on her hips.

"His name's Kevin and he's really nice...," Dave mocked her with a high pitched tone and rolled his eyes. "Cute jammies, by the way."

"Fuck you, Grohl," she snapped. "Why are you even here?"

He reached into the red furry coat and produced a black velvet box with a silver bow, holding it out for her to take, but she stepped back as if it might bite her.

"How... did you know I was here?" she stammered, her eyes never leaving the box.

"You always stay the night at your parent's on Christmas Eve."

She looked up at him, the surprise and worry written all over her face. Realizing she wouldn't do it on her own, he opened the box for her revealing the delicate silver bracelet with the tiny infinity symbol charm. Her hand flew to her throat as she stifled a gasp and she lightly touched the bracelet with her fingertip.

"Because you like math," he said softly. "And... you know... forever."

She stared down at it and silently nodded, gently covering his hands with hers. He was beginning to think she hated it when a tear fell on his thumb. "Sorry, Anna... I didn't realize you had someone-"

"No...," she breathed. "No, I love it. It's... wow."

He quietly closed the box and handed it to her with a weak smile. He felt like an idiot standing in her bedroom in a fucking Santa coat, giving her a gift when her boyfriend was just on the other side of the door. "I'll let you get back to sleep."

"Wait..." she took his arm and sat him at the foot of her bed before disappearing into the walk-in closet. He tried not to think about what might have been happening in that bed before he interrupted but she quickly returned with a long, narrow black box and sat beside him.

"Here, Santa."

He searched her face for a second before taking the box. She had written in silver pen on the top, her beautiful calligraphy she had learned as a teenager announcing For David, Love Anna. He opened the box and was met with a picture of him and Anna as teenagers. They were walking away from the camera, hand in hand as Anna looked up at him. Even from behind, he knew she had a smile on her face. Jimmy had taken the picture after the Scream concert in Baltimore in the summer of 85, just before he joined the band, just before he and Anna broke up. Beneath the picture three drumsticks lay together in white tissue, one was broken at the grip and the others were dented beyond playable condition.

"Are these...?"

She nodded and smiled. "I grabbed them before we left your audition with Scream. I thought maybe they'd be worth something someday," she laughed a little bit. "Maybe some museum will want them."

Dave snapped the box shut and held it to his chest. "No. Mine."

She smiled and nudged him with her elbow as she stood. "You better go make sure Jimmy isn't frozen to my quarter pipe. I don't want to have to clean him out of the gravel come spring."

He sighed begrudgingly and went to move towards the window when he heard her laugh. "You can use the door, kitten."

She led him through the house, past Kevin still seething in the kitchen, and to the front door. Through the front window, they could see Jimmy waiting in his car with the engine running and Dave could only hope he had the heater on.

"Please don't let him drive," she whispered.

Dave nodded and went to open the front door, but couldn't bring himself to turn the handle. "Do you love him?"

She furrowed her brow for a moment, "Who?"

"Kevin," he replied bitterly and nodded towards the kitchen.

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the door and back to him. "It's just really new..."

He nodded in understanding and pulled open the door, "You know I love you, right?"

"I know," she whispered. "Get home safe, okay?"

"We will. Merry Christmas, Annie."

"Merry Christmas, kitten."

Jimmy's house was packed with people holding red cups. There were kegs in the kitchen sink, in a kiddy pool in the dining room, in a trash can in the garage and one in the bathtub upstairs. Dave and Jimmy were stationed next to the one in the garage, staring at a group of girls who were all waiting their turn to be lifted into the air for a keg stand. A tall girl with deep black hair and ripped Scream shirt made her way over with an equally gorgeous blonde, stopping just in front of the two with coy smiles on their faces.

"Hey stranger," the tall one purred and put her arm around Dave as if they were old friends.

He looked to Jimmy, but he was too busy with the blonde to notice so he shrugged and decided to go along with it.

"Nice shirt," he said, keeping his eyes on her chest as he took a drink of his beer.

"Yeah, I used to hang out with-" she was interrupted by a familiar voice and Dave swore under his breath. Anna stood just feet away wearing a men's suit jacket and a pair of heels.

"Amy?" she gasped.

"Annie?" the girl squealed and ran at Anna, throwing her arms around her old friend.

"Goddamnit," Dave groaned. He watched Anna blatantly ignore him and walk with Amy back into the house. Jimmy was already making out with the blonde so Dave cut his losses and went inside.

He walked right into Kevin who was holding court among his other equally irritating frat buddies. They were all in suits and their girls were in gowns, indicating they had been in the city at some fancy-ass New Years gala and had bailed to find some real fun. The entire group turned as one and glared at Dave as he tried to skirt past them to the kitchen.

"Hey, Rock Star!" one of them heckled, trying to gain his attention, but Dave just rolled his eyes and weaved his way around them. Fuck off, he thought. I could give a shit if you assholes buy my records.

Finally in the kitchen, he located the cabinet where the harder alcohol was kept and poured himself several fingers of scotch, which was terrible quality and tasted like jet fuel, but it got the job done. He went to see if anything fun was happening upstairs and made it to the second step before Anna appeared at the top.

"Oh, come on," Dave whined, throwing his free hand up in the air.

She had discarded the suit jacket with Kevin and was wearing a skin-tight black velvet dress with jeweled straps and low back, and Dave was pissed. She had no right showing up to his best friend's house with her new boyfriend wearing that dress.

"Jesus christ, sorry," she huffed, bouncing down the stairs towards him. "I didn't realize I was intruding on your little punk rock harem."

"Smart ass," he shot at her, causing her to stop when they were shoulder to shoulder. He noticed she was wearing a large diamond pendant around her neck and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Asshole," she shot back.

"You knew I'd be here," he accused.

"Yeah," a ghost of a smile pulled at her red lips and she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, showing off the bracelet he had given her a week ago. "That's why I wore this dress."

She lightly bumped her shoulder into his and left him in the staircase, her stiletto pumps clicking loudly on the tile floor of the kitchen.

Abandoning any idea of fun upstairs, Dave retreated to the driveway to smoke and think. He stood next to a tall, wood fence that surrounded the backyard and lit his cigarette, idly listening to a group of guys on the other side smoke weed and discuss their girlfriends.

"I'm gonna ask her to marry me. Probably on her birthday. I've already got my grandma's ring and my mom knows all the wedding dress designers. Bitches love that kind of stuff."

"Fuck that, dude. There are so many women here! You could pick the hottest one and she'd definitely blow you in the back of that car of yours."

The first guy laughed smugly. "I know, I know. But I'm 28 and I need to find a wife before the election season starts. Anne is fucking hot and her mom's connected on The Hill so she's the obvious choice. The wedding will be all over the DC society pages this summer, just you wait."

Dave found himself pressed against the fence, hanging on every word.

"Yeah, but-"

"I'll fuck all the other bitches after the wedding. Anne's too traditional to get a divorce. She's the perfect submissive trophy wife. She's a great lay, too. Pretty sure she'll let me do-"

Dave shoved off the fence and went to find her. She may hate him, but she needed to know what she was getting herself into. He spent fifteen minutes searching all over the house, barging into bedrooms and bathrooms, pissing off several other partygoers before seeing Jimmy at the bottom of the stairs with his arms firmly around the same blonde as earlier.

"Jimmy! Where's Anna?"

Jimmy shrugged and tried to lean the blonde against the wall, but she was too drunk to stand. "She just left with Kevin. They were both super wasted."

Shit. He ran down the steps, skipping two at a time and shoved several people aside, ripping open the front door so hard that it smashed into the drywall behind it. He skidded and slipped across the snowy lawn and in the direct path of Kevin's gold Mercedes just as he put it into gear.

"Get out of the fucking way!" Kevin yelled and honked the horn, but Dave stood firm on the icy road in front of them.

He squinted into the headlights and could see Anna's panicked face, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the dashboard as she spoke to Kevin. "Come on, Annie," he whispered to himself. "Get out of the car, baby."

Kevin's attention turned from Dave to Anna. They were clearly arguing about something with Kevin growing more and more agitated as she spoke. He reared back as if to slap Anna and Dave lunged forward, hitting the hood of the car so loudly that it startled its occupants. Kevin's hand connected with the steering wheel instead of Anna's face as he yelled muffled threats through the windshield at him and revved the engine. Dave held his ground, watching as Anna broke the pendant free from her neck and threw it at Kevin's head before kicking open her door.

"... the most insufferable, self centered, boring man I have ever met!" she screamed as she climbed out of the car. "And you couldn't find a g-spot if it had a neon fucking arrow pointing at it!"

Once she was safely on the lawn, Dave felt himself breathing a bit easier, but Kevin was now ripping his own door open and storming towards her. "Anne, I won't tolerate this kind of behavior-"

"Get back in your car and leave, dude," Dave called over the Mercedes. He struggled to stay upright on the ice while moving towards Anna, worried he wouldn't make it to her before Kevin did.

"Fuck you," Kevin yelled from the back of the Mercedes. "Get a real fucking job, you hippy."

"What, so he can be a 'future senator' like you?" Anna spat. "You're just a glorified coffee bitch for a low ranked representative, Kevin."

"Get back in the fucking car, Anne," Kevin yelled, now on the snowy lawn and trudging towards her.

"I wouldn't get back in that fucking piece of shit if you paid- oof-" Anna's back hit the snow as Dave tackled her, holding her body under his while Jimmy pointed his father's shotgun up into the air and pulled the trigger. She ducked into his chest and held him tightly as the boom echoed off the surrounding houses.

"Go back to Georgetown, motherfucker!" Jimmy yelled and leveled the spent shotgun directly at Kevin.

He scrambled on the ice, falling a few times in a flurry of swears and expensive suit pieces before dragging himself upright again using the car door. "You're ruined, Anne! You could have been the First Lady, but you fucked it up!" Once inside his car, he tried to speed away, but his tires just spun on the ice.

"You really know how to pick 'em, Annie," Dave muttered, still holding her tightly underneath him while watching over his shoulder as Kevin inched away.

"My mother actually picked that one," she replied, her teeth chattering and her lips blue even through her red lipstick. "Who the hell let Jimmy have a gun?"

"Come on," he laughed and moved to sit up, just as the party behind them began to chant.

"Five! Four! Three! ..."

Anna grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back to her, kissing him hard as the countdown ended and the party behind them exploded into cheers. She giggled when he planted an extra kiss on her forehead.

"Happy New Year, Annie."

"Happy New Year, kitten."

#anotherfiveyearsfic

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Army of the Dead: How Zack Snyder Is Revolutionizing Zombie Movies

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Since long before Zack Snyder or Army of the Dead, zombie movies have proven to be one of the most surprisingly versatile subgenres in film. George A. Romero pioneered the form with the incisive, socially conscious Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead, and since then we’ve seen an ever-growing menagerie of zombies and zombie movies. More than a few times, the undead ghouls have been reinvented to frighten and fascinate audiences across the world.

So it’s probably fair to wonder at this point whether we’ve just about seen it all when it comes to zombie flicks. Innovative takes on the genre like Shaun of the Dead, Train to Busan, and Warm Bodies have taken the zombie myth and twisted it in unexpected ways. And Zack Snyder’s own remake of Romero’s Dawn of the Dead was an amplified homage to the original with a wry sense of humor. It received praise from fans of the genre, and to this day is considered to be one of the best efforts in Snyder’s oeuvre.

Now, 16 years later and after an eight-year stretch of superhero movies for Warner Bros., Snyder is returning to his zombie roots by partnering with Netflix for Army of the Dead, a heist/zombie movie mash-up that he hopes will take the genre to new heights in several ways.

The story is set in a zombie apocalypse that originated in Area 51. Six years after the outbreak, Las Vegas is essentially quarantined, with a wall built around it to contain the zombie hordes that have taken over the city. The government plans to nuke Vegas to end the zombie outbreak for good. In this time of chaos, a former casino boss, Bly Tanaka (Hiroyuki Sanada), hires a group of mercenaries led by zombie war hero Scott Ward (Dave Bautista) to infiltrate the city and extract $200 million that’s sitting in his vault underneath the strip before the city is pancaked by the government. The team should have plenty of time to get in and out before the bomb drops, but once they’re inside, they learn that the president has moved up the drop date to appease his supporters, giving the team little time to get out of the drop zone before the city is blown sky high.

Worse, while on their way to the vault the team will have to fight off a massive army of undead led by Zeus, a highly intelligent and combat-savvy “alpha” zombie who started the outbreak at Area 51. When Zeus bites someone, they become a deadly alpha like him; when an alpha other than Zeus bites someone, they become a more traditional “shambler” zombie.

Netflix invited Den of Geek to the set of Army of the Dead back in 2019 where we had the chance to sit with Snyder and the cast to get a behind-the-scenes look at the making of the movie.

“From the first conceptualization of the movie, [we knew] there were going to be these evolved zombies,” Snyder explains as he sits with members of the press on his lunch break. “I thought it would be cool if there was a way to have a little bit of sympathy for the bad guy. It’s hard to have sympathy for a normal zombie. In a way, the guys who kill them seem like they’re doing them a favor. I thought if we were able to create this other class of zombie that was semi-conscious, treating them like a wolf or dog, like, they can’t talk, but they can organize.”

This highly evolved class of zombie gave Snyder and co-writer Shay Hatten more creative opportunities when laying out the story, lending emotional depth to the traditionally one-sided human-zombie conflict. The government feels that they’ve imprisoned the zombies in Vegas, but perhaps the alphas and their shambler offspring would rather just be left alone.

Alphas aren’t the only new form of zombie that you’ll see in the movie. Las Vegas is home to all manner of bizarre creatures, both animal and human, and you can expect to see a wide variety of gruesome undead versions of Vegas oddities and eccentrics as the mercs battle their way to the center of the strip. Zombie Elvis impersonators, zombie male dancers, zombie tigers, zombie brides… it’s all very Vegas, and reflective of just how much fun Snyder had making the movie.

“Zeus rides a horse!” Snyder gushes. “He’s the smartest of all of them. Whether he has hopes and dreams, I’m not sure. But our humans give zero fucks about his world. It’s kind of a fun relationship between him and the team.”

As for the team’s interactions with each other, Snyder assured us that while the movie is as fun and bombastic as you would expect, the character work is the spine of the film and informs all of the action.

Bautista’s Scott begrudgingly lets his estranged, activist daughter Kate (Ella Purcell) join his crew in the film, and they’re forced to work out their issues as they carry out the mission. Joining them are Scott’s friend and adept mechanic Cruz (Ana de la Reguera), helicopter pilot Marianne (Tig Notaro), expert zombie-killer Vanderohe (Omari Hardwick), reckless social media influencer Guzman (Raúl Castillo), the casino’s head of security Martin (Garret Dillahunt), and Scott’s “ride-or-die” compatriot, Chambers (Samantha Win). The film also stars Nora Arnezeder, Theo Rossi, Huma S. Qureshi, and Matthias Schweighöfer

“At its heart, it’s a relationship movie,” Snyder says. “[Scott] and his daughter are trying to mend their relationship over the course of the movie. She shouldn’t have been on the mission but she kind of tricks him. It’s this small relationship movie inside of it all about a father who kind of abandons his child and tries to make it right. On top of that, it’s pure genre insanity.”

From what we were shown on set that day, the movie certainly looks to deliver on the genre goodness, for both the zombie and heist fronts. Snyder and company had rented out the entire casino floor at the Showboat hotel in Atlantic City, and they spent several days filming frantic zombie-killing action scenes involving a ton of wire work and big, loud guns (which Snyder test-fired himself with childlike giddiness). There were dozens of zombie extras running around, and the casino floor was so littered with inanimate zombie bodies that we had to watch our step virtually everywhere we went. Rest assured, the movie will be action-packed.

Another way Snyder and his team are attempting to make Army of the Dead a progressive entry in the genre is with its deliberately diverse cast.

“Something that was really important to us was to have a global cast,” says producer Deborah Snyder. “Being on Netflix, the majority of the audience is international. There’s no reason the cast should be all American, all white. And it was really important for us, and me especially, that the women are as strong as their male counterparts. That’s something that I’ve been striving for, especially in action and genre. Their characters have depth.”

The cast being led by Bautista makes sense in that he’s a big star, but what perhaps goes under the radar in many people’s eyes is that he’s essentially the first Filipino-American to lead a diverse cast in the history of major motion pictures.

“Dave has been amazing. He’s awesome,” Zack says of his leading man. “My movies are pretty popular in the Philippines anyways, so I’m excited about this added bit that’s really going to take it to the stratosphere, I hope. He considers himself this anti-action hero but he can do any of the action! It’s cool. He’s not afraid to be rough and not look good all the time. That’s what’s cool. And he can be vulnerable.”

When sitting down with Bautista on set, the actor describes a deep sense of duty and fulfillment in representing Filipinos on the big screen.

“I’m getting ready to have the Filipino stars tattooed on my chest, front and center, really big!” Bautista shares. “It speaks to where my pride is as far as being a Filipino. I’m half-Filipino, but I embrace it completely. I’ve never been embraced like I was when I went to the Philippines. It means a lot to me. I want to represent something and I want to inspire people. It means everything to me.”

Movies

How Zack Snyder’s Army of the Dead Could Nod to Night of the Living Dead’s Greatest Mystery

By John Saavedra

Movies

Zack Snyder’s Justice League vs. the Whedon Cut: What are the Differences?

By David Crow

In addition to the film’s cast representing a wide range of communities, Snyder harnesses the strength of zombie movies as socio-political commentary by weaving statements about the current state of the United States into the fabric of the narrative.

“There’s zombie-infested Vegas, and then what happened was they built this refugee camp at the outset of the zombie plague to quarantine,” Zack explains. “Six year later, the camp still exists, so now it’s this political tool that the government uses. If you have contradictory political views, they’ll stick you in there. They have a heat gun, and if you’re below 98.6 degrees, that’s probable cause to put you in.”

The director continues, “A lot of the people in the refugee camp are disenfranchised. Whether it’s a statement about immigration or the literal refugee camps around the world, it made sense to me to have an internationally diverse cast because of the centerpiece of the movie. This group that goes in are a mish-mash… they’re mutts. They’re rogue samurai.”

For Snyder, the feel of Army of the Dead was inspired by some of the most classic genre movies from his youth, though as in his previous work, he attempts to build on the concepts they introduced by subverting expectations and putting his own unexpected twists on genre conventions.

“When we did Dawn of the Dead, it was a slightly genre-buster movie in that I was a fan of the original, and I didn’t want to remake the movie, exactly,” Zack says. “I was trying my best to pay homage to the movie but I was always only referencing the original as opposed to a straight remake. I find that to be a fun area to be in.”

He continues, “Army of the Dead was really inspired by Escape From New York, [James] Cameron’s Aliens, Robocop… that world. It’s very much a genre deconstruction in the sense that I love all the genre tropes, and so I’m constantly trying to subvert the tropes by having them not finish as they typically would.”

After spending eight years in the superhero movie making business, Snyder felt that going back to intimate, genre storytelling would be exactly what he needed to reinvigorate his creative mind and passion. He needed a change of pace, and he missed being hands-on with the filmmaking process.

“Your relationship to the photographic process, even the actors… you grow further and further away from it,” he says of making big superhero movies. “I was still drawing the shots, but they were getting made further away. That’s kind of true of all aspects of the movie. This movie, for me, is a 100 percent organic experience where I take hold of it as a filmmaking process, as a writing process, photographically, as a director. It’s a joy to get up and work on. There are no real politics. Just make the movie as cool as you can, that’s it. In that way, it’s super refreshing and inspiring.

Snyder’s proximity to the tactile, hard work of filmmaking was evident from my time on set. In addition to directing, he acted as the movie’s DP and B camera operator and was interacting with the actors constantly, all while quite visibly having a lot of fun. It’s difficult to imagine he was as playful and loose on the sets of his DC movies. According to Snyder, while Army of the Dead certainly took a lot of hard work to make, he was constantly inspired by the material and embraced the challenge.

“Every movie is a struggle, right?” says Snyder. “I love that about moviemaking. The smoothest movie in the world is a shitfight. But with this movie I could make a subversive movie but no one would have to reach for the symbolism. It’s right there. It’s a genre that is about that, right? A good zombie movie, all the great Romero movies, they’re all mirrors. The zombies are us. For me, that was a great place to dig my teeth in.”

And working on a smaller scope means that this is the most personal movie Snyder has made in quite some time.

“It’s a giant movie, but I’ve tried to get at it in a super intimate, personal way,” he says. “This is not a movie that’s made by committee. It’s personal, singular, my eye seeing the movie.”

Army of the Dead hits select theaters on May 14 and Netflix on May 21.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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inneedofsupervision · 1 month

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I didn't ask, did I? (Chapter 1)

Read on Ao3

"Happy, pull over at Bill's. As long as Pepper's on that business trip, I take the chance and get my cholesterol unhealthy high, even if that's the last thing I do today."

Tony pointedly ignores the judgmental gaze in the rear mirror. After today, he needs that cheeseburger or the next person talking to him on an empty stomach gets fired. The car door opens and Happy looms over him, blocking his way.

"What should I get you?"

"Don't bother, I'm getting it myself."

His driver doesn't budge, staring down at him with his arms crossed over his chest. Tony raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to harass anyone. Stop looking at me like I'm a second away from suing someone for breathing in my direction."

Happy looks ready to close the door right in Tony's face.

"You sued people for lesser things."

Tony snorts, but his lips pull down quickly as the man before him still wears a scowl. He rolls his eyes.

"Good god, let me have a bad day for once, alright?"

"I would, only if your bad days wouldn't end up giving a bad day to everyone in your close vicinity."

"You make me sound like an asshole."

"You are an asshole, Tony."

"Geez, thanks, I love you too. Now move so I can get something to eat."

"Two cheeseburgers and a large fry. To go."

"Please get in line and wait for your turn, Sir."

"Excuse me?"

Tony slowly pulls his sunglasses down and glances at the skinny teen behind the register.

"Bad hearing comes with age, huh?" mutters the teen under his breath.

Happy makes a choking sound behind him.

"What was that?"

Tony takes off his sunglasses and pockets them in his breast pocket, earning another round of awed murmurs from the other customers.

"There is another customer in line before you, Sir."

He scans the worker in front of him. Barely old enough to work, with natural untamed curls, slight bags under his eyes, pale features, a stainless uniform despite it getting late, and bitten-down fingernails, probably a nervous habit.

The teen in front of him does not seem nervous thought. No, Tony knows that expression.

"Is that so? And where would that customer be?" he humors the teen, well, the boy who glares up at him from under his brown curls.

"Parker, what is going on here?"

"Hey, Dave. Long time no see," greets Tony, leaning with his hands onto the counter, earning him another scowl from the boy.

"Mr. Stark! What a pleasure to have you at our place again, welcome."

The store manager beams at him, an almost comical contrast to the glare the teen's sending him, who still hasn't begun to type in his order.

"Parker, why isn't Mr. Stark getting what he ordered? Having a hero and celebrity like Tony Stark here at our place might be a bit overwhelming, but you cannot simply freeze."

Turning to Tony, Dave gives an apologetic grin while he puts a hand on Parker's shoulder. "Please be understanding. The boy probably never has seen a celebrity like Iron Man in real life."

Facing Parker, Dave gives the teen a little push. "Go on, get Mr. Stark his order."

The teen doesn't move an inch.

"It's not his turn yet, Sir."

Tony is about to ask Happy to go outside if he continues making choking sounds whenever the kid decides to open his mouth. Dave's fingers dig into the boy's shoulder, a thin veil of sweat building up on his upper lip in record time.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Stark. I don't know what's gotten into him today. He's usually a very polite young man."

"Parker," Dave turns to the boy with anger growing on his face as he hisses in his ear. "You will take his order now and do it in record time, you hear me?"

Before the teen can answer, the door to the restroom opens, and an older, nicely dressed lady walks up to the counter. Tony watches with morbid fascination how the scowl on the teen's face instantly softens.

"May I," asks the lady, and Tony steps aside, only now noticing the baby-blue-colored purse lying on the counter.

"What would you like to order today, Mrs. Moore?"

Dave glances wide-eyed from his employee to Tony and back to the teen, who smiles as he asks the woman what kind of bread she would like her order to go with.

"I'm so sorry. I will take your order myself, Mr. Stark."

"Oh no, don't bother. I haven't been the next one in line. I can wait."

He notices the teen glancing his way, eyes squinting as he hears Tony's words. Interesting.

After taking the lady's order and going as far as to bring her drinks to her table himself, the kid finally stands in front of Tony again.

"Welcome to Bill's Diner. What can I do for you, Sir?"

Dave, who hovers near the counter, looked like he was about to get an aneurysm.

"Two cheeseburgers and a large fry. To go."

Seeing that Tony finally gets his order taken care of, the manager leaves them with the teen angrily punching numbers into the cash register.

Tony absentmindedly rubs his shoulder while the kid turns around and gets their order packed up. It bruised because, believe it or not, getting hit by a truck hurts even with Iron Man armor. He catches the teen glancing his way, and if it hadn't been this quiet inside the diner, Tony probably wouldn't have heard the mutter the teen let out under his breath as he puts the bag down on the counter.

"Serves you right, asshole."

Tony blinks.

Happy chokes.

"Here's your order, Sir."

The teen looks up and stares at him.

"You did that on purpose."

"Have a nice afternoon, Sir."

Happy grabs his arm and drags him out of the diner, the bag dangling down his other arm.

"Did you hear that?"

Tony tears his arm out of his driver's hold. He loosens his tie before pulling the whole thing over his head and throwing it blindly into the car. He grabs the bag, tears open the wrapping, and takes a gigantic bite of the cheesy and beefy goddess before pointing a finger at the diner.

"Tell me I imagined that."

Happy tiredly wipes a hand over his face. He wordlessly grabs the bag and places it on the backseat, while Tony takes another bite while walking up and down in front of their car, chewing angrily.

"I'll go back. I make that kid apologize and then get him fired."

"Tony, the last thing you need is the news writing about you getting a high schooler fired from a burger place."

"Since when did I care what the news tell about me, Happy?"

"Since you are an Avenger and fiancee of Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries?"

Tony visibly deflates, taking a last bite of his burger before throwing the rest in a bin.

"Drive us to the tower. I need some time in the lap."

"You need sleep," mutters Happy, holding the door open for his boss and rolling his eyes as he closes it behind him.

One thing is for sure. It probably won't be the last time hearing about the kid named Parker.

Happy looks back at the diner, shaking his head.

"You've done it, kid. You screwed the pooch."

#peter parker #spider man #tony stark #iron man #happy hogan #marvel fanfic #spider man fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #trying something new #tell me if you like it #the avenger fanfic #the avengers

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myaekingheart · 4 years

Text

Had some really weird fucking dreams last night.

The first was that I was at my parents’ house, and the whole family was there for Thanksgiving. I remember grabbing a small plate of a very low variety of food--there wasn’t even turkey??? And thinking to myself that this didn’t feel quite right, but I went along with it anyway. I was still hungry by the time I finished my plate but I didn’t make mention of it. When I got up and everyone was finished eating and my mom started putting away all of the food, however, I noticed that there was an entire long table against the other wall full of more food that I hadn’t even noticed--including turkey and a bunch of other Thanksgiving classics. I panicked because I didn’t even realize any of that food was there, and now dinner was over and my mom was packing everything up so I couldn’t even get any of it. I mean, theoretically I could’ve, I know in reality my mother would never let me starve if she had any say in it, but I didn’t want to sit there alone at a table eating my sad little plate of belated Thanksgiving so I just put up with it. That didn’t mean I wasn’t still hungry, though, nor did it mean that I was happy. I went in the kitchen and for some reason Blake Shelton was there? Which is weird because I give zero fucks about country music whatsoever. But Blake Shelton was there and I demanded he make me ramen. It wasn’t the usual packet of dehydrated instant ramen, but like wads of soft noodles that we had stored in the fridge. He begrudgingly agreed and pulled a wad of noodles from the fridge, dumping them onto what looked like a skillet on the stove? But they made this god-awful squelching sound and smelled terrible and it was clear that they had gone bad. Blake Shelton got really pissy about it which in turn made my hangry ass even more pissed off than I already was. We started getting into a mild argument about it that ended with me shouting at him “NO, I’M ANOREXIC, YOU ASSHOLE!!” and then storming off into the formal living room to kind of just disappear in one of the giant armchairs my parents’ have.

I woke up momentarily after this, but when I went back to sleep, I had yet another dream.

My fiance and I were asleep in my grandparents’ guest room. I remember checking the clock and it read 12:49pm--we had overslept. I think my grandmother may have knocked on the door and asked if we were ever going to get up? But I can’t remember. Either way, I nudged my fiance and told him I was getting up, and he groaned in protest but didn’t do anything about it. When I stepped out of the room, I could see from the hallway that my grandpop (who actually passed away IRL in 2014--tomorrow is actually the anniversary of his death, which I didn’t realize until now, which makes me feel even more freaked out about this) was lounging on the couch, recliner up and covered waist-down by a big white blanket. He had on National Geographic, a favorite of his, where he was watching a show called How To Get Lost in The Woods. I lingered for a moment to check the show out, and it seemed as if it was an informative program about how to identify different types of poisonous plants and how to tell if water is safe to drink and where to find food if you ever get stuck in the woods. I honestly woke up convinced that this was a real show and when I found out it apparently isn’t, I got super disappointed because honestly? It fucking should be. And what made it even worse was that I recognized immediately that it was being narrated by Dave Wittenberg, aka Kakashi. I lingered in the hallway watching until the next commercial break, and the bumper between ad breaks for the show featured pretty nature pictures with the show’s title in white sans-serif font. This particular bumper had a photo that reminded me of the orange flower from the list of default Windows user profile pictures. At this point, I had resolved to take a quick bathroom break and then go back out to watch with my grandpop. I slipped into the bathroom and sat on the toilet but suddenly I had no control of my body, so I sat there staring down at myself for a long minute before shouting out to my fiance and grandfather a harried “...Nevermind, I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick!” And that was kind of the end of that?

But I also remember at one point being in my grandparents’ living room or something? And I was wearing my trusty combat boots, the ones I’ve had since 2015 that probably need to get thrown out by now, to be quite honest. I remember twisting my leg so that I could look at the bottom of my shoe, and the heel was completely gone. Like it wasn’t that just the heel of the shoe had fallen off, it was like it never existed in the first place and there was nothing but a blank space like my heel was invisible or something. And it was super weird and I don’t know what the fuck happened or why that was a thing but I guess it was?

#weird dreams #ramblings

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this-is-big-lady · 7 years

Text

Swipe Right part 4/10

part 1, part 2, part 3

Hey guys! Here’s a long chapter to make up for the filler that was part 3, and to celebrate the last day of my second year of uni! (except for exams...) Fun fact, all of the courses that are mentioned in here are actual courses offered at my university, some of which I’ve taken. And all the places are real places on my campus!

A piercing alarm woke Davey from his dreamless sleep. He threw an arm over his eyes, groaning as he rolled over to fumble blindly for his phone. Begrudgingly rubbing his face, he squinted at the bright screen, stabbing at the stop button before the alarm finally switched off. He lay on his back with a huff, seeing the gentle morning light slipping through the gaps at the sides and bottom of his curtains, and stretching to wake up.

Davey stared at the ceiling for a few moments before he remembered the events of last night and sat bolt upright, scrambling to see if he had any new messages from the night before. He did, but none from the person he wanted. A couple from his family group chat, his mum wishing him well for the new week and Les sending him a picture of the new book he picked up from the library, and a couple from guys on tinder, but none from Jack. He dragged his hands through his hair in an effort to remove some of his bed hair, and pulled himself out of his bed.

He padded into into the kitchen only to be greeted by sunshine in human form, Crutchie. Through a mouthful of toast, Crutchie managed to articulate a “good morning!” to Davey, to which he simply replied, “do you always have to be so fucking chipper in the mornings?” Crutchie swallowed his toast and smiled in response, and Davey rolled his eyes and turned to make his own toast.

Thankfully the two boys didn’t live too far from campus, so after Davey finished his breakfast and had a shower, the friends walked to college together before they headed off to their respective classes - Drama on Stage and Screen for Davey, and Social Policy for Crutchie. They always enjoyed the walk, it meant they could complain to each other about what the day’s classes had in store for them, or they could grab coffee if they’d been up late studying. Crutchie’s lecture hall was on the way to Davey’s, so they said their goodbyes and Davey continued to his classroom.

30 minutes into the class, Davey couldn’t be more bored. He loved this class, but the topic of today’s lecture wasn’t capturing him. As the lecturer droned on about how Disney adapted Beauty and the Beast from its original French fairy tale, his phone dinged in his pocket. He scrambled to turn it onto silent, and checked the notification: Jack sent you a new message. An involuntary squeak of surprise came from his mouth, and he swiftly apologised to the people around him who turned to look at the commotion. His cheeks quickly went bright red, and his heart was pounding as he opened the message. Even though he felt guilty for ignoring his lecturer, this couldn’t wait.

His message said, ‘I’d love to talk to you about art sometime, but it’s pretty difficult to talk with the masterpiece ;)’

He openly gaped at the message, his blush travelling to his ears and burning his face. Did Jack really just insinuate that he, Davey Jacobs, was a masterpiece? Even if it was a cheesy pick up line coming from the fact that he listed art as one of his interests in his bio, Davey couldn’t quite believe anyone would have the balls to send him that.

Davey spoke too soon, as a second message quickly appeared under the first.

‘But seriously, I’d love to talk with you sometime. Does coffee tomorrow sound good?’

He felt like he could faint. His heart was pounding a million miles a minute and Davey swore the people sitting around him in the lecture theatre could hear it. He laughed a little to himself - more like a tiny exhalation of air - as he realised that Crutchie was right. Jack came to him first! When he managed to calm down enough that his hands stopped shaking from the adrenaline, he texted Crutchie that something urgent happened and that he needed to skip his next class to meet him. Crutchie’s tendency to do anything for his friends meant he’d definitely meet him in the quad area between their two buildings, and that’s what the duo agreed to do.

When the lecturer dismissed Davey’s class, he was the first one out the door and speed walked to the tree in the quad. Crutchie took a minute longer to reach the tree, but was panting a little, so he obviously went as fast as possible to see what was so urgent that he had to skip his Learning Sexualities course.

“Wha- What happened?” Crutchie projected as soon as he was in earshot. Davey’s smile from ear to ear showed that it clearly wasn’t a bad thing, but Crutchie was confused. Normally when someone said something was urgent, it meant it was bad. So why was Davey smiling?

“He messaged me!” Davey all but yelled. “You were right! I didn’t do a thing and he… Jack messaged me!” He boy was bouncing on his toes, a bubble about to burst from too much excitement.

Crutch slowed down to a stop in front of Davey, processing the information. “You mean to tell me, that you texted me in the middle of a lecture - something you never do,” Davey’s head nodded furiously to prove Crutchie’s point. “And then told me it was urgent, which it probably wasn’t, because a boy messaged you on a dating app you downloaded last night?!” Davey was a little stunned at the hint of anger mixed in with Crtuchie’s surprise. He started to scuff his shoes against the dirt , and mumbling out an apology. “Well, yeah, Crutch. I guess I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sor-“

“No, don’t finish that sentence.” Crutchie hated seeing Davey like that, doubting himself and feeling like he’d done the wrong thing. He was genuinely excited for his friend, he was just surprised at the un-Davey like behaviour. Even if he was missing a lecture, he knew it was important to his friend for him to be here. Crutchie took a step closer to Davey, waving his bum leg over Davey’s feet in order to get his attention from where he was studying the ground. When Davey looked up at him, he simply asked, “What did Jack say?”

Davey’s eyes lit up as he fished in his pocket for his phone and he excitedly blurted out, “He called me a masterpiece Crutch! He really did! And he asked me out for coffee tomorrow, isn’t that exciting?!” Davey thrust his phone into Crutchie’s right hand, letting go of the hand hold of that arm’s crutch, and scanning the two messages for himself. He smile back at his friend, and with a laugh in his voice said “That’s so great Davey, I’m so happy for you!” Davey bobbed a little side to side, a telltale sign that he was genuinely happy. “Well, what are you gonna reply, loverboy?”

“Reply? I… I don’t really know.” Davey’s smile faltered a little and his bobbing slowed. “I was kinda hoping that you’d help me, Crutch.” The younger boy couldn’t help but smile up to Davey - he’d never seen his normally hyper-focused friend get so torn up about someone. Even if it had been less than 24 hours, this kind of distraction from his constant work and worry would be good for him. “Of course I’ll help you Davey! But if Jack can wait overnight, he can wait for the next two hours. You know how much Trudy hates it when people are late to her class!” Crutchie gave the phone back to Davey who was elated to hear that his room mate was going to help him out.

Crutchie started to head off to his lecture that would be starting any second. He was going to be late and probably get called out by his lecturer for it, but he knew that it’d be worth it if it meant he got to help Davey. “Lunchroom in the Human Sciences Building, 1pm, okay?!” He yelled over his shoulder as he walked away, and saw Davey throw him a thumbs ups in acknowledgement. This was going to be a long day for Crutchie.

As he walked into the lunchroom, Crutchie could see Davey peering at his phone’s illuminated screen and picking at his fingernails. It was a bad nervous habit of his that he could never seem to break. When he reached Davey’s table, he tapped him on the shoulder, taking the boy of his reverie, even if he jumped a little. “Oh hey, Crutch. How was class?” Crutchie sighed as he slung his bag off his shoulder and plonked down on the seat next to Davey. “The usual, y’know. It was Learning Sexualities, so just lots of gay kids yelling at each other under the guise of a ‘class discussion’. At least it’s an easy pass.” Davey chuckled a little at Crutchie’s exasperation. He definitely knew the feeling of sitting through a painful class. “Anyway,” the blonde boy continued, “have you thought about what you want to say?”

With a sigh Davey nervously ran his hand through his hair and stared at the two blue message bubbles that were staring back at him. “I mean, it’s a fairly simple message right?” He looked at Crutch for approval, and he nodded back at Davey with a smile. “I should just say that coffee tomorrow works for me and ask where. I can do that.”

A few quiet moments passed as Davey’s affirmation hung in the air, and he made no move to do what he said he would. “So, do it” Crutchie prompted. He noted that Davey’s hands shook a little as he held his phone. Nerves. More silence.

“What if he kills me Crutch?” Davey’s eyes were pleading as he looked at his friend. This was Davey’s first foray into the dating world, his nerves were understandable. Good thing then that he had the ever optimistic Crutchie on his side.

Crutchie placed his hand softly over Davey’s hand longing onto his phone. “That would put a real dampener on his project, Dave.” This was met with a groan from the nervous boy, who clearly though that his friend’s attempt at humour wasn’t funny. “I’ll tell you what, how about I sit in the coffee shop too? Not at the same table, of course, but I’ll be there in case you need an easy way out. How does that sound?”

Davey’s eyes flicked between Crutchie’s face and his phone as he was processing the request. “That sounds… good.” Davey visibly relaxed at the reassurance that his best friend would be there to look after him, to which Crutchie patted him on the back. “Excellent! Now, all we have to do Dave, is accept Jack’s invitation!”

Davey took a deep breath to steady his hands and typed out a quick message to his virtual conversation partner, and showed Crutchie for approval. “‘Tomorrow sounds perfect. When and where works for you?’,” he snuck a smile at Davey who was back to picking at his nails, waiting for the go-ahead. “It’s perfect Davey! And it’s…”He looked back down at the phone at tapped the send button, telling Davey when the sent symbol appear. “Sent!”

Davey opened his mouth in panic to protest, and Crutchie slipped his index finger over his friend’s mouth to silence him. “No protests, Jacobs. I simply did what you didn’t have the balls to do.” After a moment, Davey pushed away the wrist resting under his chin, simply noting, “fair enough.”

The boys dug into their lunches - mince pasta with a very generous helping of cheese for Crutchie, and chicken sandwiches for Davey. They bitched back and forth about their classes and upcoming assignments. Thankfully they were coming up to a two week break, so they had time to relax a little and do their course work at a slightly more leisurely pace. In the middle of Davey’s animated monologue about masculinity in Beauty and the Beast, a lecture he received last week in his literature course, his phone sounded from where it was placed next to his lunch box. His heart leapt into his throat as he saw Jack’s message notification from Tinder. The monologue came to a screeching holt as he scrambled for his phone and unlocked it. Crutchie sat and watched an elated expression spread across Davey’s face.

“The Starbucks opposite the church on the south end of campus. 2pm… Oh my god Crutchie I have a date!” Davey’s eyes widened with excitement and he clutched his phone close to his chest. Crutchie couldn’t help but laugh, Davey was just too damn excited and it was the best thing he’d seen all week. “Not so loud, Jacobs!”

Only a few people had turned to look at the outburst Davey had made, but the boy was on cloud nine and couldn’t care at all. He quickly typed out a reply - Sounds great, I’ll see you there :)

“I guess I have a date with a coffee and my social policy essay too,” Crutchie added with a lilt and a smile. Davey jumped up and walked over to his friend, leaning down and wrapping his arms around Crutchie’s torso, resting somewhat awkwardly on his shoulders. “You’re seriously the best, Crutch. Was would I do without you?” The smaller boy patted Davey’s arm, and stated the obvious. “You certainly wouldn’t have a hot date tomorrow, I can tell you that.”

#javid #davey jacobs #crutchie morris #jack kelly #newsies #newsies fanfiction #tinder au

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isroselalondebisexual · 7 years

Note

What about ASPECT trollswaps? So Rose Serket, John Nitram, Dave Megido, and Jade Maryam *Jade Maryam the Jade blood wow*

Heehee! Jade Jade sounds fun ^_^

Rose Serket, raised with moderate wealth and a piece of shit spider lusus. I think Rose would start out killing other trolls for her, but hate it, and would resent being forced into doing someone else’s dirty work. I think it would… probably eventually result in Rose killing her lusus, to be entirely honest. She can kill people on her own just fine, she doesn’t need Spidermom to protect her, she doesn’t want Spidermom around telling her what to do and forcing her to kill people who she doesn’t know and who very very likely don’t deserve to die just to feed some lazy spider who’s too awful to go get her own food. Definitely a traumatized girl, as it goes. Angry, resentful of the world and life in general, puts out a “cool n deadly” persona that is also “i’m smarter than you, I’m tougher than you, I’m cold and aloof and untouchable, don’t fuck with me” when in reality it’s mostly just constructed out of her trying to find a sense of control in the world, and not wanting to have to deal with people being mean to her. She’s moirails with Jade, who tries her hardest to gentle Rose down and remind her that she’s just a kid, that life’s not fair and that cruelty should never be the norm. Rose starts out resenting her, resenting her “help” that Rose is certain Jade is giving with disdain, but Jade is no quitter and Rose wants to be loved, wants that assurance that she’s valuable and there is kindness in this life for her, and the two of them end up with an incredibly strong moirallegiance in which they help and love each other, despite a hard and rocky start. They tell stories of how it was difficult, but worth it. She’s still the Seer of Light, so her role is still to foresee the most fortuitous outcome, which she throws herself into full-throttle, converting her anger and resentment with the world to the relentless pursuit of the Light, of making things go RIGHT for once, seizing the control that her role allows and delighting in the way that she can now affect her reality, things are no longer being done to her, but she’s got the power to change the timeline with her sight and her actions and her words. Probably wants to solve all the puzzles and treasure maps on her own, and grows frustrated when she can’t just magically foresee the solution. The solution is “ask your friends for help you dumbass” and so she must begrudgingly ring up John or Jade or Dave to come help her with this goddamned treasure map, pirates are stupid anyways, who came up with the theme for this planet it’s dumb why are there compasses in the sky that doesn’t even make sense grumble grumble. A pissy, ready-to-stab-things-with-needles kind of girl, a bit of a know it all and a bit of a showoff, untrusting of other people’s intentions but ultimately brought around by the love of her sweet moirail and eventual-alien-soulmate-Kanaya. So, pretty close to canon Rose, just angrier and with a different origin story.

John Nitram, a soft, relatively poor boy with a lusus who thinks the world of him and encourages him to do his best, but be careful around danger. John’s probably gonna end up a little more skittish than we know him to be, less likely to walk into situations assuming they’ll all work out. His lusus has always loved and taken care of him, but Fairybulldad is a prey animal and that means you don’t really fight your way out of things, you either run or you bring the situation down away from danger. He jokes around, compliments people easily, is quick to laugh, just in general he likes it when the air around him is kept light and friendly, and will work to keep it that way with his own breezy and friendly demeanor. He and Dave are the greatest bros to ever bro, and everyone keeps wondering when the two of them are finally going to just GO PALE already, it’s so obvious to everyone except the two of them. Mutual pale pining? Mutual pale pining. Defo. John probably gets a huge kick out of being able to commune with animals, and will DEFINITELY make them do stupid shit for kicks. Dave has had so many birds fly in through his window at random, inconvenient times. So many. Curse you Nitram!! John laughs it off and to be fair, Dave does really like birds. John also has like, a million friends that he can just sorta cuddle with at any given time. All the meowbeasts and barkbeasts love him. All of them. Is very likely scared of Rose, who is a very cold midblood and like, constantly furious. Danger that way lies. Jade keeps telling him she’s actually a sweetie deep down and John isn’t quite sure if he believes her, so he and Rose have a relatively distant friendship until the Game happens and John gets to interact with her regularly and he finds out that yeah, she is really cool, and she’s FIERCELY loving of her friends, she’s just really really really fucking intense basically all the time always. The two end up hitting it off, just, later in their lives than they did in canon. As Heir of Breath, his role is still one who must embody freedom, freedom from the shackles of their old society, freedom from the restrictions placed on the various castes, and freedom from his own neuroses, which are as multitudinous as ever. Naturally, he cannot accomplish this when acting on his own, and the four of them must still work together to bring out their own best qualities, and each others’.

Dave Megido, lowest financial station but with a cool Kangaramdad who does, by all known accounts, love his child. Probably has a sort of “time is money” kind of outlook and a “spend it while you have it” motto for finances, the fanciest thing he owns is his camera and he loves it to bits and pieces and he takes pictures of everything, starts up a whole series that’s just about documenting beauty in the day to day life of himself and his neighbors. He’s got a HUGE warmblood following, people like him who enjoy seeing great things in little moments that he’s somehow managed to capture on film. He loves it because Dave, as always, Craves That Mineral Validation, and also it’s his own way of fighting back against the system. He doesn’t really think there’s a whole lot he can do, but he CAN do this, and it’s what he likes and it’s how he does it. Has a super big fucking huge giant pale crush on John who always takes the time out of his night to make Dave smile and remind him of how important his friendship is to John and Dave looooooves him he’s the beeeeeeest. The two of them grow up not too far from each other so they hang out regularly and play around and are children together and Kangaramdad and Fairbulldad get along well and it’s GREAT. Dave has a somewhat-normal childhood, as much as “normal” can possibly be on a planet that repeatedly and constantly tells you that your life means nothing and you’re going to die soon anyway. Probably maintains his fascination with death and dead things, probably still has a “dead things in jars” collection, and it’s very likely because he lives in a society that really requires Dave to reconcile with the concept of death and think about it often. It’s always right there, looming behind the corner, and he can ignore it and be scared of it or he, being a child, can engage with it in a frankly weird, but ultimately progressive way. As Knight of Time, his job is to protect the alpha timeline and foster its happening, so he still winds up seeing his own dead body a lot and he still has to be VERY METICULOUS in the time loops he creates, and it’s nasty and awful but he has John around. Tbeh, I think Dave might just forgo his planet’s quest entirely and hang out on John’s planet. Do some puzzles, crack some jokes, like they usually do, only this time in a weird magic Game that is apparently birthing a new universe. He and Rose very likely poke a lot of fun at each other, sorta nudging at “how far can I push” but also “ahaha, I am aloof and unbothered, you cannot rattle MY bones” so it’s just this weird, vaguely antagonistic friendship where they both REALLY like each other and are glad to be friends but sometimes they just can’t resist being little shits. He and Jade are also good friends, Jade making sure Dave is okay and checking in pretty regularly and Dave sending her things he knows will brighten her day and making sure she feels like one of the cool kids too, because she is cool, he thinks she’s so cool and really looks up to her as a person and as a friend and is really glad that he knows her. Eventually Dave meets a surly alien named Karkat and falls ass over heels in love with him and it’s DUMB and JOHN HELP WHAT SHOULD HE DO and oh god is he pitch for Karkat??? Flush???? Should someone come mediate them??? Is he pale for Karkat??? What’s going on he’s feeling so many things for this awful, stupid, beautiful dumb hilarious compassionate-yet-selfish boy John help Dave’s going to die of alien-gay. John pats his shoulder and smirks at him, and then proceeds to relentlessly tease him for his crush on an alien.

Jade Maryam, raised middle class out in the middle of FUCKING NOWHERE (again), with a lusus who loves her. Probably ends up pretty well adjusted, all things considered. She has to fight off zombies, so that’s something, but she gardens and she does her sciency stuff and she’s awake on Prospit and friends with the chess people, so really her upbringing is nigh-identical to that of canon, but this time with a guardian of pretty high intelligence, compared to all her friends’ custodians, instead of a magic dog. The violence of Alternian society probably makes her a little more prone to physical violence as a response to her anger, and she likely has like a million and five rifles, but ultimately I can’t see a whole hell of a lot of difference between Jade Maryam and Jade Harley. Still the Witch of Space, whose job is to bring about the new world and alter the whole of the universe for the good of the people residing within it. Good pals with her friends, dating Rose in pale and acting as something of an anchor for them all, the reliable, solid member that they can all fall back on. Idk if I’ve talked about this often but I associate all of the kids with certain elements and I’ve always pegged Jade for earth. She’s grounded, solid, and focused on growth, and I love her

#Rose Lalonde #John Egbert #Dave Strider #Jade Harley #Rose Serket #John Nitram #Dave Megido #Jade Maryam #answers #trollswap #trollstuck #Homestuck #homestuck meta #analysis

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