#and also even when dave said normal things he was awkward as fuck. he asked a question then just Didnt work with it
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AAAAAARGHH!!!!!!!!! OK FINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I GIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i guess i do like dirk now. whatever
#had another dream we were buddies it was cool actually#so. whatever. i cave#i think its just cause he reminds me so fucking much of my friend like it is fucking uncanny how alike they are#so whenever i read his dialogue im just like. hehe thats my friend#also. his first interaction with dave (thing i was crying about last night) is so. funny and messed up and well written and weird#its just. so sad. he was really really looiking forward to meeting him#like......... for his whole LIFE he was looking forward to it#and he finally gets to meet his hero and hes so nervous and trying to stay cool and all#hes just. starstruck. and he was really really REALLY looking forward to that conversation#and his personal hero just. makes it a point to let him know how much he fucking hates being there#hes like god i cant wait to go fight that bad guy and dirk has 2 sit there like#ah........ so hed rather risk his life to a maniac with lord english poweres covered in blood than talk to me............. ahhh...........#its just. YOU KNOWWWWW#its endearing. they managed to make it so painfully awkward#they made it SO AWKWARD!!!!!!!!! even worse than roxy and dave straight up called her hot multiple times#and she in return kept prying for information about his love life#and also even when dave said normal things he was awkward as fuck. he asked a question then just Didnt work with it#like........ isnt the point of getting to know people that you ask a question they answer it and then you talk about that topic awhile?#isnt it like.......... more of a pointer on what you can talk about to keep the other persons interest rather than. a genuine question#urgh anyway i fucking give up. i like dirk So what fucking sue me#hey btw i totally forgot about this when you said it but jade when you told me you wanted to fuck dirk what was that about#hes also gay. thats like a whole Thing even though it isnt#care to elaborate on that by any chance. cause id like some clarification on what you meant by that#mainly...................... what part of that man is fuckable....................................#AHH!!!!!!!! EVIL SPIDER!!!!!!!!
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DaveFarts - Episode 10 “The Elevator” [Episode List]
After visiting a friend’s house, Tim and the gassy-as-usual Dave take a really slow elevator together.
The Elevator
I took a quick sip of beer as our friend Adam left the living room to get another can in his fridge. What was left was a weirdly awkward silence and Dave, with his own beer, glaring at me.
“Dude,” he whispered. “It’s been a hour. I thought you were gonna tell him.”
I chose Adam as the first non-Dave bud to come out to, but it ended up being surprisingly hard to do. It’s not like Dave was forcing me or anything, or that Adam was a bad person; on the contrary, Dave was simply there with me as my emotional support in case things go south (but we both know they won’t) and Adam was, well, just Adam. Dave’s rightful reaction to me not coming out as planned didn’t bother me and as I said he wasn’t there to intimidate a confession out of me.
“Look, I don’t feel ready, okay?”
“You’ve been talking about the weather for 20 minutes.” he hissed. “What’s next? Geology?”
I chuckled. “Actually, this reminds me that they found this weird rock in South Amer-“
“I can’t believe this.”
“What’s not to believe? You take a big shovel and-“
“And I’m gonna dig my own grave if you start talking about rocks.”
I chuckled again. I know he wasn’t really mad.
Annoyed? Maybe. But mad? Nah, that’s a stretch.
He had all the rights to be annoyed though, but in the end it was my decision to make and he knew this.
We kept whispering as we heard Adam rummaging the fridge like some kind of raccoon longing for a cold drink.
“Look.” I said. “it’s late now anyway. Let’s just leave. Sorry I wasted your time.”
“Fine.” he replied. “Let’s finish our beers first at least.”
“That goes without saying.” and I took a long sip.
Truth is that I hadn’t any real reason to hide my homosexuality from Adam or any other of my buds actually. First, we’re in our 20s, we’re all mature and open-minded here. And in the end, excluding the whole fart-thing going on with Dave, they were all like him, chill guys. Adam, despite always sounding like someone who wants to have none of your shit, or anyone’s shit really, more than once proved that it’s just a facade and not-so-deep down he’s always ready to listen and back you up whenever you needed it. He did just listen to me talking about the weather for 20 minutes, so either he’s fascinated by the subject or knows I’m trying to tell him something else and is just patiently waiting.
The thought of wasting both of my buds’ time in a way or another kind of bothered me to be honest, so I was more than okay with wrapping things up and just leave, which me and Dave did mere minutes later.
“See you bro.” my bud said to Adam, standing by the door, as we went outside in the hallway, not far from the stairs and the elevator “Tim wants to talk about rocks so I’m taking him out of here before he kills you with boredom.”
“The one they dug up in Colombia?” Adam asked, much to our surprise.
“Yeah.” I answered. “They know it’s andesite but it has some interesting carvings on the surface and-“
A startled “What the fuck.” from Dave echoed in the hallway and the entire apartment building.
“What the fuck indeed.” Adam uttered, rather excitedly, completely missing the point. “This could change the archeo-history of the entire region.”
“I heard enough.” Dave said as he walked towards the elevator.
Both me and the other rock-enthusiast laughed at his reaction.
“By the way, I’m going to join you for a bit as I gotta walk the dog.” Adam remembered, reaching for a leash behind him.
“We’ll see you outside then.” Dave replied and then turned to me. “Tim, elevator, now.” he ordered.
“You sure, guys? You remember that thing is slow as shit, right?”
“We’ll be fine.” my bud said, patting my back. “I guess I’ll make Tim last longer then.” he joked.
“That only happens when you call me ‘daddy’” I joked back, as we walked towards the elevator, leaving our common friend behind.
“Rrrright.” Adam said. “I’ll get the dog while you two solve your sexual tension. See you outside.”
I pressed the button to summon the lift, Dave’s arm still around my shoulder as if he had something to show me. Truth to be told, I somehow knew where this was going.
As the panels of the door opened, we stepped into the elevator cab. I pressed the “G” on the control panel. I heard a mechanical noise and the elevator started its long, slow descent (we were at the 10th floor), after the doors closed behind us of course.
It was a cold evening and the cab wasn’t any warmer. I turned to Dave, who was wearing a dark blue hoodie and a pair of grey jeans. He looked at me with a smirk, hands in his jeans pockets; he raised his eyebrows and, without warning, a loud thunder echoed in that enclosed moving space.
The roaring fart had a slow start, with some interruptions, actually a sign for how big it was, but Dave, being an expert, quickly tamed the gassy beast and properly “tuned” the sound of the blast after a couple of seconds, keeping a consistent pitch, while also making it sound loud and deep. It felt like he was ripping one of those huge “when the girl finally leaves” farts, only, well, Dave-sized, which is always a sight to behold… hear? In this case there was no girl so he probably simply held all of his farts in to not ruin “the moment”, in case I wanted to come out back at Adam’s place (with beer acting as a bonus fuel).
A silly smile was drawn on my bro’s face as the fart kept going strong and proud, sometimes reaching some incredibly loud moments. He chuckled a bit and even winked at me when the blast made some particularly “meaty” noises, if that makes any sense. The fart was impressive on his own but Dave “interacting” with me while still masterfully passing gas was incredible as well (and, of course, hot).
The number 6 on the control panel lightened up and only in that moment I realized two things: the first being that the elevator was indeed slow as fuck; the second is that around 40 seconds passed and neither Dave nor his fart “flinched”. I was widely aroused by that and I felt the air around us getting more and more “polluted”, but not in an unbearable way actually. The blast kept echoing inside the elevator and I’m pretty sure that it could have been easily heard, albeit a bit muffled, by anyone taking the stairs.
Dave farted in my face many times, but no fart reached the length and power of this one, which is saying a lot. My bud’s butt-burps normally last around 6-12 seconds and don’t get me wrong they’re amazing, but man, maybe this one rip would have been too much to endure even for me: it simply wouldn’t stop. It’s like there was a loud engine in the elevator which couldn’t be turned off as I couldn’t hear anything else.
I was instead the opposite of turned off and teasing bastard Dave Maning knew this and, as usual, had no issue with it. At this point it was a race between Dave’s longest fart and the world’s slowest elevator.
We were now at the 3rd floor and my bud probably wanted to do a “big finale”; he was visibly pushing the blast out now, as if he wanted it to last as long as possible, a smirk still drawn on his face. He closed his eyes and the sound made it look like another fart was ripped over the sound of the previous fart, as if two audio channels in his ass somehow overlapped. The sound was of course louder than ever; the smell now, and only now, getting a bit hard to get used to. But to be honest, Dave’s skills as a sound designer alone were impressive enough.
A big part of me, mainly the one between my legs, wanted to get on my knees and plant my face in his denim ass before the fart faded out, but I knew that would have been too much even for such a chill guy like him. I’m sure he wouldn’t hate me or anything at this point but we both know there are some untold boundaries and honestly it’s better this way. I know how lucky I am to have someone like him around (farts or not).
My farting bro probably read my mind as he slowly turned around and got closer, again without affecting the fart’s quality and, being a bit taller then me, basically farted on the upper part of my hip. It almost made my entire body shake due to its power and it felt good. Now I really wanted to bend down as if I was tying my shoes but what stopped me this time was also the thought of… not surviving. I was familiar with Dave’s farts but this was absurdly powerful even for him.
And finally, as Dave resumed his previous position, again looking at me, the fart stopped, followed by my friend letting out a relieved whistle, and then an immature cackle.
Not even 2 seconds after that the elevator reached its destination, stopping as well. I jokingly clapped my hand and shook my head in disbelief. “Bravo!” I said, as if I just watched some fancy stage play.
Dave simply smiled and turned his back at me to face the exit, as we both waited for the just-as-slow panel doors to open.
“At least not all the time here was wasted.” he laughed.
“Bro, we had a beer together. That’s never a waste of time for me.” I replied.
“Wow. Rocks, gay and cringe. You got it all, Tim!” he replied.
We both laughed at me being needlessly cheesy and finally stepped out of that gas chamber. Someone stepped in the cab as we left it and the doors closed, leaving us in the hallway at the ground floor. We heard muffled coughing noises almost immediately and we laughed again, as we knew the disgusting reason. Poor, innocent soul.
“Ok but bro” Dave then said, looking a bit more serious. “You gotta do it someday. Trust me you can trust all of us.”
“I know man.” I replied, as we walked towards the exit “Next time I meet Adam, doesn’t matter where and when, I’m gonna tell him that I’m gay.”
My voice echoed in the building and through the stairs, but I didn’t care.
“You’re… gay?”
Okay, I cared.
We both turned around, puzzled.
It was Adam, right behind us (with this dog on leash), descending one last set of stairs before ending up in front of us. Somehow he’s been slower than the elevator, which both me and Dave found hilarious but I also had other emotions going on that moment.
Dave patted my shoulder encouragingly and stepped back: it was my time to shine.
“Yep.” I simply said. “I wanted to tell you hours ago but I didn’t have the guts to do it.”
Adam just stared at me with a confused expression.
I didn’t feel as nervous as I anticipated. “Yes, Dave knows it…” I quickly added, noticing him staring at my other straight bud. “And I asked him to not tell anyone.”
A moment of silence followed and those always feel like they last hours.
“I mean you two clearly have been dating each other for years” Adam joked. “So it’s no surprise, really.”
“WHAT WE HAVE IS SPECIAL!” Dave shouted, jokingly faking a desperate reaction.
I simply laughed and before I could process how well everything was going I felt Adam doing something very unusual for him: he hugged me.
“I’m glad you told me, man.” he simply said. “You know you can count on us.”
I know times have changed and all but this felt like a victory. Every time I’m gonna come out to a friend of mine it’s one step closer to the peak of a mountain and once at the top I will finally-
“Fuck, I forgot my phone.” Adam said, patting his pockets. “I’ll just take the elevato-“
“NOOO!” both me and Dave screamed, knowing that it was still a deadly gas chamber.
Adam simply replied with an annoyed expression and went for the stairs, the dog just behind him.
“Oh hey by the way.” I asked. “What took you so long? You said the elevator was slow but somehow we made it here before you.”
“Don’t underestimate me.” he replied. “It’s just that I heard some weird noises echoing through the stairs and me and another guy tried to understand what it was.”
Dave tried to not to burst into laughter, while I simply smiled like an idiot. Adam and his dog then went up the stairs and left us in silence, not until my gassy bro decided to break it the way he usually does.
A loud fart erupted and echoed through the building, only lasting around 4 seconds this time.
“There it is again!” we heard Adam say, a couple floors above us.
Me and Dave shared an amused look and went outside trying to not laugh like immature idiots. I felt the cold weather all over me, which was relieving considering the gas trap I’ve been trapped into only minutes earlier.
Despite a slow, yet really entertaining elevator ride, and my awkwardness, no time went wasted today.
“I’m proud of you, bro.” Dave said, this time serious, but still smiling.
“Wow.” I replied. “Straight and cringe. You got it all, Dave.” and winked at him.
“Don’t get too cocky now, rock nerd.”
I was rock-hard, to be more precise that’s for sure, but that was a detail I’d take care of later, perhaps thinking back of that absurd elevator ride. Whenever I’m with Dave, I’ll make sure we’re never taking the stairs again.
End of Episode 10
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Shattered Hearts, Fractured Lungs
(Chapter Two; Warnings for: school shooting, violence, language, and heart failure; you can find the first chapter here)
Emily Prentiss just wants to do her job but a messy case sends her sprawling into the arms of a dying man with a toddler and his weird, broken family.
“It’s been very rare to have known you, very strange and wonderful” --F. Scott Fitzgerald
She comes back the very next day.
It’s about noon and she’d seen the blonde one-- the happy one, uhm… Penelope! Emily had watched Penelope pull up in the driveway at about eleven thirty. So, she knows someone’s home over there but when she steps out on her porch she’s not expecting him to be sitting in that rickety old rocking chair.
Idiot-- because she’d seen, from her kitchen window, Penelope helping him outside. The woman was talking his poor ear off.
The icing on the cake, of course, is that she was creating a dialogue for what to say when she got over there.
Out loud.
So, he definitely heard her talking to herself like a crazy person.��
“Hey,” she says lamely, stopping in her tracks. Now she’s in a really bad spot. He looks like he didn’t sleep last night and definitely not in a talking mood with the oxygen mask over his face.
Of course, she can’t really know that he didn’t sleep last night. Spent the whole night breathlessly fighting with Dave over his own health and how he was feeling. Of course, like shit is the truth but he’s fighting the clock and he doesn’t want to go to the hospital over a little labored breathing. Now he’s paying the price. He couldn’t even stand on his own this morning. He’d laid in bed until Garcia got here and been forced to ask her to help.
Life is slowly becoming unbearable.
“I need...” she blows out an unsteady breath. She has to clench her hands to stop them from trembling. “Do you have any bananas?”
Idiot.
Stupid fucking idiot.
But he nods. It takes him a moment but he reaches up and pulls the mask off his face, pinning it against his chest. “Just go…” he curses himself, mentally for his inability to do something as simple as breathing. Why should heart failure come with not only a permanent ache in his chest but also the double hit to the lungs? Anatomy is so stupid.
“Ask Pen,” he rasps, gesturing with a head tilt that he means for her to go inside. “She’ll get you one.” He knows there’s bananas in there because Garcia always brings him some from the store. He used to eat one every morning with his coffee. Now he can’t even stomach the thought.
Insult to injury is the awkward silence that passes between them as Emily steps into his house.
She comes out a moment later, Penelope trailing her. She shows him the bananas from last week. They’re pretty brown but she’s smiling. “Actually,” Emily says, stepping out and smiling between Garcia and Hotch, “the recipes Derek’s mom’s. She, uh, sent it my way to keep me from getting bored.”
Garcia nods and Hotch rolls his eyes fondly. He’d spent the last half an hour listening to Garcia go on and on about Emily’s sexy little partner Derek Morgan. And, as insufferable as it had been, he had seen the signals the two of them were sharing. The good thing is that he was visibly not the only person unsettled by Garcia and Morgan’s flirting.
Reid really hated it.
“She’s making banana bread,” Garcia tells Hotch, bumping her hip against him.
Emily blushes, “yeah but…” She twists her shoe uncomfortably in the dirt. “I’m not that great of a baker.”
Garcia shakes her head, “don’t be so hard on yourself! I’m sure it’ll be great.” She grins, “besides if you need any help Hotch and I are more than willing to be unbiased judges or helpers.”
Emily could laugh at the face Hotch makes. He most certainly does not want that. She shakes her head, “I’m gonna go throw these in. If they’re good, I’ll send you a piece?”
Garcia nods and they watch in silence as Emily goes back to the house.
The banana bread must not turn out so great because she never brings a piece over but the next day she knocks on his door with a plate of pancakes.
He’s in a sweatshirt-- Georgetown’s logo slapped on the front and worn with age-- and a pair of grey sweats that make her cheeks flush a little. Nice, idiot, she thinks as she explains she used the leftover bananas to make pancakes and wondered if he’d like some. Mercifully, he either ignores or doesn’t see her making intense eye contact with the floor so she doesn’t look anywhere near his hips.
After that, they form a strange pattern of her showing up with various baked goods or other types of gifts and such.
Otherwise, they’d both sit in their homes all alone with nothing but the silence. Or, rather, he’d have the silence because she is very loud. He likes to sit on the porch and listen to her blasting music through her house. Occasionally, he knows a song but mostly he just likes the way the rest of the neighborhood scowls at their houses.
It’s about nine in the morning when Hotch hears the knocking at his door. For a solid moment, he considers not even answering the door. There’s about a ninety percent chance whoever it is he doesn’t want to talk to. The number of people who have sent cards, and food, and made weird phone calls is numerous. So, if they don’t have the key to his front door or the familiarity to just come busting in-- it’s not worth his time.
Besides, he’s feeling grumpy and he’d like to just wallow for a moment… in peace, alone.
But then the door does bust open.
He’s trying to read the paperwork either the hospital or the school sent-- obviously, he hasn’t gotten very far into it if he can’t even tell what the papers are for. All that he knows is there are vibrantly colored sticky notes where his signature should be. But he isn’t just going to go singing his name willy-nilly. He’s not that far gone.
He looks up and Emily Prentiss is blindly-- her hands are over her eyes for some reason-- trampling through his living room.
“Can I help you?”
At the sound of his voice, her head jerks up. Two paired fingers separate and she looks just like one of his students as she lowers her hands and grins at him. It’s an awkward little grin but it’s not bad. “Uh,” she motions behind her to the door. “Sorry about that… Dave, he, uh, he told me that you’d be home all day and you are home all day and if I needed anything to just--” she grimaces as if she’s just considered how strange this is. “You didn’t answer and Dave said you always answer and you do and I didn’t want something to be wrong…”
She stops talking.
Mercifully.
Hotch grunts, “I do, normally.”
Somehow, the only good thing to come out of the last month is that Hotch gets to spend his days at home. Besides the drastic rise in homeschoolers in their town, the school had been gracious enough to handle his disability checks. Of course, everyone had smiled and thanked him for what he’d done to save his kids but Hotch is still very aware of the lawsuits and trouble David Rossi would cause if everything hadn’t gone smoothly.
Being the semi-famous author of a very successful line of children’s books earns Dave that power. Although, Hotch has seen him use it for good and for… well, mostly sex.
The downside is he gets pretty lonely at the house.
Jack goes to his aunts. Haley’s sister Jessica has been a huge help over the last few weeks. Reeling from the loss of her sister, she’d been more than happy to keep her only family close. Even if it’s just her ex-brother-in-law and nephew. Not that Aaron and Jessica’s relationship was severed just because of Haley and Aaron’s divorce.
It had been painful but not ugly. It had never been about the devotion they felt for one another or even the love.
Life just gets complicated.
A few teachers had still managed to get some more leave time and with Hotch’s heart actively failing, Reid, Garcia, and Rossi are on the receiving end of lots of understanding when it comes to asking for time off. They have a schedule set into place now: Garcia brings him lunch, Reid picks up Jack, and Dave brings stuff to make dinner for all of them.
It’s simple but affected. Daily and boring.
“Now this is going to make me sound like a dumbass--”
He’s known Emily Prentiss for all of week. He excludes the school thing from memory and the timeline. It’s better for his mental health-- which isn’t doing much better than his physical health if he’s being honest. The problem is, the woman is kind of crazy. It’s in an endearing kind of way but still.
Now he’s sitting in her living room. She’d come barging into his house just thirty minutes before, a hand over her eyes. He’d had to listen to her awful explanation for that while slowly and painfully making his way across the whole five feet separating their houses. The hand over her eyes had been in case he was naked because she may invade his personal space but she really doesn’t want to see his junk.
He’s not entirely sure where this comfort of hers is coming from. All he does know is that Dave has swindled his way into every aspect of Hotch’s life and now Hotch has his neighbor’s phone number. It’s for “emergencies”, of course. In case Hotch, God forbid, needs help and his only contact is his batshit neighbor.
“I mean it, Aaron,” she’s standing right in front of him with two spices in her hands. “It’s really going to make me sound like a dumbass here but what exactly is the difference between Cinnamon and Nutmeg?”
God, she’s crazy but she’s funny and hasn’t passed any judgement on his inability to get dressed. Just like now while she’s standing in a simple, well-loved tanktop and work jeans and he sits in his flannel pajama bottoms and a Hanes t-shirt that’s seen better days five years ago.
But they kind of passed lots of mile markers for judgment a long time ago. As in, last week.
He’d watched in silence as she emptied the contents of her stomach over the railing of his porch and she’d put pressure on the bullet wound that tore through his side. It’s why it was so easy for her to, after that night on the porch, to bring over a plate of pancakes and offer to grab him stuff from the store. Of course, he’d told her he was good and he, mostly, was.
Which is in direct consequence for why he’s here now.
“Nutmeg tastes like Christmas,” he explains because he has no idea how he’s supposed to explain this to a grown woman. “What are you making?” He’s suddenly very worried for whatever dish she’s making. Especially if she put nutmeg where cinnamon is supposed to be. It’s freaking September and, if he’s being honest, he really hates Christmas. That might make him too biased to figure out if she’s really messed up though.
She grimaces at the containers in her hand. She pulls her lip into her mouth and mumbles, “apple pie.”
His grimace is too much and if she weren’t so bummed with the aspect that her apple pie is most definitely ruined she might laugh. His accent is thick enough for her to comfortably assume he’s from the south not to mention he’s got a lot of that southern gentlemen charm.
“How much nutmeg did you use?”
Her face says it all.
He places both his fist on the sides of the chair and forces himself onto his feet. If Emily weren’t standing in silent horror that he might fall over or pass out or a hundred other things she might lend a hand. Then again, they haven’t established those boundaries and she can’t flawlessly just know like Dave does.
“Let me see the damage,” he grumbles but she can see that he’s not actually mad; he's just wary of what she’s done. He’s strange in that way. For a man who has made a career around working with children, he’s got a horrible resting face.
She lets him set the place, pointing him in the direction of the kitchen. It’s only a few feet but they make it two-steps before she decides she can’t do this silently watching thing. “Do you--” she offers him her forearm, the same way she’d seen Dave do the other afternoon.
He scowls at her arm but after a moment, he takes her hand. His skin is startlingly cold and his hand trembles until he settles his grip. It’s surprisingly easy and she doesn’t think much of it. At least he’s not dead weight to lug around. She’s had plenty of people hang onto her, she doesn’t even mind this.
“I think I might have used too much nutmeg,” she concludes before he can see the damage and rule her incompetant. It’s a warning.
He glances at her out of the corner of his eye… too late for the incompetant thing, she decides. He already thinks she’s a moron.
Rightfully so but still…
She’d known he was tall. It’s not that hard to see but as she’s standing beside him, his body pulled in and hunched over, he’s still towering over quite a bit. He’s a big man and he smells nice so he’s got a lot going for him. Too bad about the heart thing because he’s kinda cute.
“That’s all…” she moves him to the kitchen table and brings the pie to him. She really doesn’t want him falling in her kitchen. Dave likes her and she’d like to keep it that way. Besides, there would be so many awful and weird questions to answer if she had to take him to the hospital.
And now he’s sitting in horror at this pie in front of him.
“That’s all…” he repeats himself, shaking his head in disbelief. The pie is covered in a brown powder and he’s slowly processing that it’s all nutmeg.
She grimaces and nods.
He looks up at her, mouth open but disbelief making it impossible for him to say anything. He’s seen a lot of weird things. Preschoolers are… they’re a piece of work but this is testing every bit of training he has.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
He nods, “definitely.”
Huffing in a way that he recognizes from dealing with one too many headstrong four-year-olds, she places her fist on her hips. She scowls down at the pie. It’s cooked and it smells okay but if she’s been too generous with the nutmeg there’s no way that’s going to taste good. After a moment she hums and turns around, pulling out two forks she comes right back to the table.
“Well,” she says with a tilt of her head, “christmas apples can’t be that bad, right?”
He takes the fork being offered to him with no interest whatsoever in eating this pie but it's kind of funny and he’s having a good time. Together they break the baked dough and get a bite- sized piece. He’s fairly adamant but somehow it’s got nothing to do with his tricky stomach or the fact that he hasn’t been able to keep down much besides water and saltine crackers. It’s going to taste like shit and it’s exciting.
Emily chokes on her bite coughing and grimacing as she rushes to spit it out. To his credit, Hotch swallows his bite. “That was honestly the worst apple pie I’ve ever tasted,” he tells her, honestly.
She laughs and that feels so good. She hasn’t laughed in a long time.
He shrugs, “I’m not gonna lie to you.”
She tosses her fork on the table and shakes her head at the pie. So much for that.
“How exactly--” he bites down on the wave of pain that rocks through his body as he forces his legs underneath him. He stands, trembling and waving slightly with the effort it takes. “Why were you making apple pie so early in the day?”
Emily is still frowning at the pie so she doesn’t even look up at him. “Bored,” she mumbles. She’s upset about her pie. Damn… this whole nutmeg vs cinnamon thing is stupid. They look exactly the same so they should taste the same, right?
“Maybe you should try something else,” Hotch says, one hand still keeping his balance on the table. “Baking just doesn’t…”
Emily frowns at him, “I like baking, though!”
Hotch looks away, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. “Baking doesn’t like you,” he mumbles.
She smacks his shoulder and he chuckles-- this isn’t the first failed attempt of her’s he’s tried. There was the cookies from Monday (that were burnt on the bottom and raw on top) and the banana bread he’d only seen but-- they could have killed a lesser man let alone him and his broken heart.
“Maybe I can try cooking,” she proposes.
He shakes his head, “are you gonna make me eat that too?”
She clicks her tongue, faking offense. “What, are you afraid?”
He smiles and it takes her breath away. He’s got high, sharp cheekbones and when he’s not carrying so much tension in his shoulders it’s so much easier to appreciate just how soft his dark hair looks. Her neighbor is hot. She’s not sure if he knows that though.
“A little,” he admits playfully, “but maybe you’ll be better at cooking than you are baking.”
She crosses her arms and scowls down at her pie. “I don’t think it’s going to take a lot to be better at cooking than baking.”
He makes a soft sound, “you said it, not me.”
She shakes her head at him but there he is smiling again. She can’t even be mad. “Maybe I’ll make dinner,” she proposes, tucking her hands under her armpits as she thinks. “Are you interested?”
Honestly, no but he doesn’t want to pass up on hanging out with her. So he nods.
“Six o’clock should be enough time to cook something, right?”
Jesus, she’s going to kill him.
“Why don’t I come over and help?”
Oh, she hadn’t thought of that. She nods, “okay. You wanna come over at three, then?”
It’s dangerous, without a shred of doubt there, but his heart does this little flutter. “Uh,” he has to clear his throat. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”
Except three rolls around he’s a no show. Three turns into three-thirty and she’s not trying to be a buzzkill but the recipe calls for caramelized onions and she has no idea what that means but she hopes it doesn’t mean what she thinks it does. Carmel on onions? Sounds disgusting.
“Knock, knock?” She’s already barged into his house once today so it really shouldn’t be that big of a deal but something doesn’t feel right. She can’t shake it and she certainly can’t just… leave. “Hotch?” God, she hopes he’s just in the bathroom.
He isn’t.
“You okay?” she falls to her knees beside him. She’d never been this far into his house. Mostly, she’d never passed the living room but now she’s kneeling in his hallway and can see his bedroom from here. As much as she’d like to evaluate that-- because the space is strangely neat and God, who knew the bare minimum of a clean room was such a perfect green flag--
Right--
He shakes his head.
Oh.
“Should…” she knows he hates the hospital, who doesn’t? But… he’s gasping for breath on the floor, his pale hand clutching at his chest. The sight is very overwhelming and hurting her deeply because it’s bringing feelings back that she thought were getting better. “Do I need to call--”
To the school and to the blood pooling between their bodies.
He nods. He’s terrified but just seeing Emily brings some strange comfort. Her and her awful cooking might just get him through this. He won’t die on this floor. Not on this ugly ass rug Dave made him put down.
The ambulance comes, bounding the sirens shrill sound up and down the block. Making a spectacle out of an awful experience.
He winces when the IV goes in and she just stands, bouncing from foot-to-foot awkwardly watching. It’s not until he’s on the gurney, fighting the drugs rushing through his system. “You can come,” he rasps but no one can hear him clearly from behind the masks. Reaching up to pull it away, several hands swat his hand away and he makes a grunted, annoyed sound at hte back fo his throat.
An EMT leans over and calms him back down before Hotch starts trying to fight his way back up into danger. “Easy, buddy.” The EMT pushes on Hotch’s shoulders and it's not a lot of force but Hotch isn’t strong enough to fight it. “The pretty lady can come, okay? Just settle down.”
She stays with him and tells herself it’s because she doesn’t want him hurting himself but she really doesn’t want to leave his side until she knows he’s going to be okay. There’s no hand holding because they’re still at the point where they smack shoulders and stand feet apart but they’ve only known one another for a week and-- Emily can’t fathom what she’s supposed to do if he dies in the back of this shitty ambulance.
“Can you--” the EMTs give him something that nearly knocks him out on the spot but his breathing gets better and he stops gasping and wheezing. He just lays supine on the gurney. Limp. “Dave?” He can’t keep his eyes open but he hears Emily make what he thinks are words of confirmation but his sentence didn't exactly make sense so maybe she didn't understand him.
He’s pulled under by the warmth spreading through his limbs before he can repeat himself or worry with it.
“You can’t go back there, baby.”
Emily blinks and there’s an older woman stopping Emily’s zombie-like march beside the gurney as they rush Hotch off to the side. She can’t tear her eyes off of him. Watching numbly as they cut his shirt down the middle and start to attach to electrodes to his alarmingly pale chest.
Her hands are trembling as she pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Dave?” she’s breathless with the anxiety swelling in her own chest. “I’m so sorry--” and she’s crying. Why? He’s not her friend? He’s her neighbor who she’s known for a whole freaking week and yet-- And she can’t deal with Dave being mad either. But he isn’t.
The minute he steps into the hospital, he comes right up to and pulls her into a hug. She sobs into his arms and he lets her because he’s seen Aaron this bad before. He knows it’s unnerving.
“Do you have any news?” Dave asks her and she shakes her head. He squeezes her arm and smiles at her tear-stained face. “I’ll be right back, okay? They know my face, I might be able to wrangle some news out of one of the nurses.”
She nods her head and watches dejectedly as he walks away.
Aaron had told her that Rossi had slept with many nurses while he was in the hospital. She’s thinking about the way he’d smiled when he told her that when she falls into the waiting rooms stiff chairs.
#shattered hearts fractured lungs#aaron hotchner#tw school shooting#emily prentiss#whump#hotchniss#hotly#penelope garcia#spencer reid#derek morgan#david rossi
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Fic: Happiest Girl (Part 6)
Alan makes a bet that Dave would not be able to pass off as a woman in ladies’ clothing. Dave decides to prove him wrong.
(This is set sometime during the Black Celebration era.)
Pairing: Dave/Alan
Rating: Explicit
Notes: Many thanks to the lovely @pinksyndication for this beautiful fanart of Dave and Alan getting ready for their ridiculous bet!
And of course thanks also to the wonderful @what-could-have-been for their own fanart and lovely ideas!
Edit: I was so swamped I knew I forgot something. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARTIN!
First part is here.
Second part is here.
Third part is here.
Fourth part is here.
Fifth part is here.
They stopped by a boutique opposite the hotel to get a black silk scarf for Dave, which helped to keep his Adam’s apple hidden. As Alan draped it around Dave’s neck, the salesperson was watching them and smiling indulgently in an ‘aww aren’t you an adorable couple’ way. She said something in German that they didn’t understand, but Alan just smiled and nodded as he paid for the scarf. Then they stepped out to hail a cab to the Reeperbahn.
Their driver didn’t seem to know a lick of English either, so Dave figured it was safe to discuss their modus operandi. “So how are we going to do this?” he asked Alan at a normal volume, dropping his voice to a whisper once he spotted the driver’s startled eyes widening at him in the rear view mirror. Fuck, he’d forgotten that he still sounded like a bloke.
Alan stretched out an arm across the backseat. “I figured we’d hit a few clubs, get some drinks and see what happens,” he suggested.
“How do we determine who wins?” Dave thought this was the most important question. His legs kept sprawling wide out of habit, and he had to keep reminding himself to clamp them shut.
Alan looked thoughtful. “If people leave you alone and nobody suspects a thing, we consider it a win for you,” he said. “And if anyone stares at you suspiciously or asks you questions, it’s a win for me, I guess.”
“Wait, what sort of questions?” Dave narrowed his eyes at Alan. The hemline of his dress kept riding up with every speed bump they went over, and he had to keep tugging it down in frustration, much to Alan’s amusement.
Alan shrugged. “I guess, ‘Are you a bloke?’ is a sure indicator, at least. Or anything that generally sounds suspicious.”
“What if they ask me in German and I don’t understand?”
“I think suspicion is generally universal?” Alan pointed out. “If enough people stare, we’ll know the game is up. Maybe we’ll just play it by ear and see what happens tonight.”
“Fine.” Dave tapped Alan’s knee in warning. “And no running off if you see a prettier bird. You have to stick by my side.”
Alan just smiled at him, reaching out and tucking a stray curl behind Dave’s ear. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
***
The cab dropped them somewhere at the North Side along one of the side streets, which Dave remembered Fletch nicknaming ‘Gross Free Hell’ the last time they’d passed by because it was so near the red light district. Dave stepped out first as Alan paid the driver, glancing at the street sign for the actual name: Große Freiheit. The street was teeming with people: tourists, drunk revellers, roving groups of men on their merry way to the brothels. It was warm for mid-May, but there was still a little chill in the open night air. Dave was now glad for his scarf.
Now Alan stood beside him, taking in the lively atmosphere around them. “If at any point, you feel uncomfortable and want to stop, you have to tell me,” he said carefully.
Dave wanted to tell him not to be silly, but he quickly realised his optimism was really just false bravado. “Should we have a code word, then? Or a phrase?” he suggested.
Both of them exchanged a smirk. “Toast Hawaii, ” Dave and Alan said at the same time, cracking up with laughter.
“Brilliant.” Dave was still smiling, adjusting the hem of his dress.
“Great minds and all that.” Alan jerked his head towards the noisier main street. “C’mon then, let’s look for a place and get a drink.”
They entered the Reeperbahn and continued walking down the street, past the arrays of pubs, bars and restaurants. Dave had to be mindful of the way he walked, keenly observing the female half of an American tourist couple in front of them. The woman had a sway to her hips that Dave tried to mimic, her steps smaller and more careful as opposed to his usual loose stride. Alan wasn’t saying a word, but Dave could sense the silent amusement radiating off him in waves.
At one point a loud wolf-whistle pierced the air; Dave was surprised to find it came from a group of burly men at an open-air table, all of them grinning lasciviously at him. One of them shouted out something in German, which made all his friends roar with laughter. Whatever he’d said, Dave hoped that it wasn’t as dirty as it sounded.
“What an arsehole,” Alan said. Dave was on the verge of agreeing, but it would have been hypocritical; he’d yelled similar comments at girls back in Bas when he was a teenager.
“Does it count as me winning the bet?” Dave said with a dry laugh, although it sounded a little hollow.
“You don’t get off that easy.” Alan turned back to look at the rowdy table of German blokes again, seemingly peeved. “Besides, couldn’t he see that we’re together?”
Dave shot him a flat look. “Okay, I’m not taking that bloke’s side, but--” He gestured at the distance between them. Alan was at least two feet away. “If I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, it ain’t obvious.”
Alan frowned at him. “Oh. Then...should we hold hands?”
Dave rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Al. What are we, nuns? We’re on the bloody Reeperbahn, some of these clubs have actual live sex shows on stage. Here--” He took Alan’s hand, yanking him closer and draping his arm around Dave’s waist. They were so close now that Dave could smell Alan’s cologne and the mints he’d chewed on in the cab. “There, that’s more like it.”
Walking together this close was a little awkward at first, but Dave could sense the moment Alan eased into it, falling into rhythm with Dave as his warm hand cupped Dave’s hip with a possessive hold. Dave slid his own arm around Alan’s waist, tucking part of his hand under Alan’s belt. Alan was dressed really nicely tonight; he had on his usual leather jacket over a black sleeveless top and neatly-pressed trousers. He even smelled nice and expensive, like a bloke out on the town to show his girl the time of her life.
They stopped outside a bar playing ‘Lust for Life’, and Alan must have seen the way Dave perked up. “Here then?” he suggested, steering them in when Dave nodded.
The bar was dark and filled with cigarette smoke, the bartenders busy doling out huge pints by the trayload. There seemed to be an even mix of locals and tourists; Dave could hear snatches of conversations in German, Dutch, English and something vaguely Scandinavian. Bobbing along to the music, Dave waited patiently beside Alan, who ordered for them both. He was eventually handed a rum and coke, but it was extremely strong, at least.
Taking Alan’s hand, Dave led him further into the bar where they found an unoccupied standing table with dirty glasses. A busboy shortly came along to clear it, flashing a bashful smile at Dave who couldn’t help smiling back, feeling rather triumphant. He arched an eyebrow at Alan, as if to say, See? Alan only shook his head in amusement. He seemed determined to draw out Dave’s suffering.
Dave accepted the cigarette Alan offered him, their faces drawing close as Alan leaned in with his lighter, his eyes flitting between Dave’s eyes and mouth. Once the cigarette was lit, Dave nodded in thanks, taking a deep drag as he brushed his new curls over his shoulder. Having long hair was a nice novelty that he’d considered at times; now he might actually try it out in the future, despite whatever Jo said about it making him look unkempt.
The music had changed to something by Roxy Music, and Alan finished his pint. “I’m going to use the facilities,” he said loudly, at which Dave nodded. He shook out a second cigarette from Alan’s pack, putting it between his lips before he remembered he didn’t have a lighter.
Then one appeared in front of him, the flame flickering into life. “Guten Abend,” a blond giant of a man said, gesturing towards Dave’s cigarette. Dave accepted the light with a small smile, casting his eyes downwards coyly like he’d seen some girls do. He didn’t think it was wise to speak much, lest his voice give him away.
“Woher kommen Sie?” the man asked. He had ridiculously sharp cheekbones and eyes that were obviously blue even in the dark lighting of the bar. Funnily enough, he was the tall and handsome sort of Adonis that Dave would have tried to get into a brawl with, back in school.
When the man saw Dave’s uncomprehending expression, he switched to flawless albeit accented English. “Are you American?” he asked, eyes dipping down to glance at Dave’s legs.
“No, from the UK,” Dave said in what he hoped was a higher, believable pitch. If the bloke seemed suspicious, he didn’t give any indication whatsoever.
“I’m Jan,” the man said, holding out his hand.
Shit, Dave had to think of a name quickly. “I’m Martina,” he said, sending a silent apology to Mart, wherever he was.
“Your name is beautiful.” Jan kissed Dave’s hand, making his skin crawl. “Like you.”
Dave quickly wrenched his hand back. “I have a boyfriend.”
Jan shrugged, flashing Dave a sleazy smile. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
“Then you need glasses,” Alan’s polite but no-nonsense voice came from behind them. A relieved Dave was never so glad to see him. “Can I help you?”
Jan merely gave Alan a disdainful onceover, as if sizing up his competition. “No, I don’t think so.”
Sensing that this bloke wasn’t going to piss off anytime soon, Dave shifted closer to Alan, pressing their bodies together as he wrapped his arms snugly around Alan’s waist. He rested his head on Alan’s shoulder, sighing in pleasure as Alan pulled Dave close to him to stand between his legs. “Would you mind, then?” Alan said, stroking Dave’s hair.
After glaring at Alan for a good long moment, Jan told Dave: “If you get tired of him, I’m near the pool table at the back.” Winking at Dave, Jan tucked his lighter into his pocket before heading towards somewhere at the rear of the bar. Even when he returned to his table, he was still watching them, a vaguely unsatisfied expression on his face.
“That tosser still looking?” Alan asked, because his back was turned towards Jan.
“Think he is.” Dave was too comfortable to move from where he was, Alan’s body warm and firm against his own. “Let’s just wait a while, yeah?”
To Dave’s relief, Alan nodded, his hands still stroking through Dave’s curls.
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Purple Velvet
Loki x Reader
Requested by: The Fifth Marauder
Word Count: 3,480
Warnings: Happy Loki
Author’s Note: I swear I’m going to stop writing fics about the beginning of relationships. I swear I’m going to start writing different fucking stuff.
When it comes to your dating history, you kind of struck out. All you'd dated were losers named Dave and their even shittier friends Jeff. (I'm not saying that all people named Jeff and Dave are shitty people because they're not, this Jeff and Dave just happened to be real assholes.)
But the moral of the whole Jeff and Dave fiasco (which included a stripper named Pearl, a smashed kiwi, and a kid named Eli who was way too old to be Dave's son.) But enough with the parenthesis, parenthesis tells the hidden emotions and energy of the story. This story tells a story of emotions and feelings, more than a usual story. So, either the whole story is in parenthesis, or none of it is.
When you met Loki you had no idea that a relationship with him was going to be any different from any of your previous. A seemingly cocky man with slicked-back hair was not exactly the most optimistic of reliable partners, but somehow you were attracted to him. Drawn to the tall man who was possibly wearing a cape in the whole foods checkout line was definitely something to cross off the bucket list.
It wasn't just whole foods, it was possibly every other grocery store in a three-block radius. Considering that three blocks in New York had at one time held four different Trader Joes you had met Loki plenty of times before you finally had a conversation.
It was a normal day and you had been stopping by Harris Teeter to pick up some lasagna and ice cream. While you were bending over to get a pint of Chunky Monkey Ice Cream you heard a voice from behind you.
"Would you mind grabbing me a pint of rocky road?" The voice asks. It was the man from the Whole Foods checkout line. His voice sounded like purple velvet, not just velvet, but purple velvet. The way purple velvet looks and feels is the way his voice sounds. You may be dawdling too long on what his voice sounds like, but god was such a sexy voice.
"Yeah, sure." It was kind of a lame thing to say, but the only good response. What were you going to say instead, tell him that his voice sounded like purple velvet?
As you handed him the ice cream you quickly analyzed his features. His hair was brown, almost black, but still noticeably brown. He had blue eyes that were almost overshadowed by the shape of his eyes, but not in a bad way. He was wearing a black turtle-neck sweater that was rolled up around his wrists, not because his sleeves were too long, but as a fashion statement.
He stared at you in a pensive manner, but not in a creepy way, in a curious and polite way. He didn't say thank you and you weren't offended, he seemed far too involved in this silent conversation to engage in a verbal one.
After staring at each other for a solid 7 seconds he broke the gaze and said a simple: "have a nice day." Before turning his back, tossing the ice cream into his basket and walking away.
You weren't flustered, by any means; the only word you could think to describe the interaction was interesting. You were deeply and intensely interested in whatever world this man was living in that appeared to be much different from your own.
"You too" you exclaimed in a manner not too different from his, a subtle plea for a reunification, possibly at Food Lion, or wherever had the best deal on tomato soup.
~
As the story goes, you two met again, in Ikea of all places. You were casually walking through the store, looking for a new nightstand after it had an unfortunate accident after you read the ending of The Time Traveler's Wife. All of a sudden you heard muffled grunting noises as you were passing rows of couches.
Like any sane person would, you leaned back into the row to see Purple Velvet trying to pick up a couch.
"Um... Excuse me? Are you okay?" You ask, walking toward the tall man who appeared to be sweating.
"Yes, I'm fine." He exclaims, standing up and brushing off his knees. "I just need to get something from under the couch."
"Would you, uh, like some help?" You respond.
"It's alright, I can do it on my own." He replies. He bends over again and starts lifting up the couch for a second time.
For some reason, you didn't walk away. It was probably because you knew he needed help, it was also possibly because he had killer back muscles.
"It looks like you need help." You exclaim, ready to help him out with the herculean feat of lifting up a couch.
"No, I'm good." He grunts out.
After about 20 more seconds of pointless grunting, he finally gives up. "Are you still offering me that help?" He asks.
"Sure, what do you need help with?" You answer, putting down your basket and kneeling down be eye to eye- or at least as close as possible considering your height difference.
"I can lift up the couch, but I can't reach far enough to grab the earring."
"Earring?" You ask quizzically, it was really none of your business. It was just that Purple Velvet was lifting up a couch in Ikea to get an earring, and everything about that sentence made you desperately curious.
"Yes, that's the object that I dropped under the couch." He replies calmly.
"Well, that gives me absolutely zero information." You casually respond, a slight smile forming on your face.
He grunts a little, almost like he wanted to chuckle but something stopped him. It honestly sounded more like a snort, but this man doesn’t seem like a person who you say “snorted”.
"When I pick up the couch, can you grab the earring?" He asks.
He picks up one side of the couch, so it's leaning in an acute angle. You lie on the floor and reach under the couch to try and grab the earring. "What does it look like?" You ask. "There's a lot of shit under this couch, and I want to make sure to grab the one thing that not's shit."
"It's green, and is the type of earring that hangs down." He grunts out. "It’s an emerald color."
"Okay, thanks." You respond, reaching even further under the couch to grab something that appears to have a greenish tinge.
When you touch that item it's gum you let out a loud ew and continue to reach under the couch. After searching around for another minute or so you grab an object that is smooth on one side and pointy on the other. You look closely, and it indeed appears to be an earring.
"Got it!" You shout.
You slither up from underneath the couch and hand Purple Velvet the earring.
He hesitates for a moment before saying anything. You almost expect him to say nothing before he lets out a quiet thank you.
"You are so very welcome." You announce, letting your positive attitude show.
You get up and begin to walk away, then Purple Velvet sets down the couch and walks over to you; "This may sound kind of weird, but I was wondering if you would like to possibly get something to eat. Together, I mean. At a place other than Harris Teeter."
His demeanor was desperately trying to cover up the anxiety in his voice. He straightens his back and looks at you with misplaced authority. The story happening out loud was far different from the one happening between the two of you, in body language, and in the emotions flashing on your eyes.
The true story going on is that Purple Velvet was asking you out on a date. In a very awkward way that seemed entirely off-brand for someone with his kind of attitude. He seemed shy and was anxiously attempting to hide it.
“That sounds great, where do you want to go eat?” You answer.
"I saw this Italian place a couple of blocks from here, I believe it's called Mateo's?" He responds, a civil look returning to his features.
"Eh... That made be a problem." You exclaim, a puzzled look forming on Purple Velvet's face, god his voice is so sexy... "Mateo and I have a small food, I dated one of his waiters and after we broke up the waiter spit in my food. Mateo didn't believe me, so here we are. Banned from the best Italian Restaurants in all of New York City. Well not if you consider pizza"
Purple Velvet's face droops, and your absolutely positive the first thing on his mid in skepticism.
"But don't worry! I know another really good place nearby here." You nearly shout, but then you stop. You don’t want him to hate you before he even gets to know you.~
You lead Purple Velvet out of Ikea and onto the street to your left. The two of you keep on walking for about 3 blocks before turning left again and walking into a much dingier road, that could possibly be called an “alley”. You walk for about one more block before stopping at the place to your right.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you." You exclaim jokingly.
Purple Velvet calmly responds with: "I'm not so sure about that," before walking into the structure.
Inside of the building, there's a stairwell leading to the restaurant but to the untrained eye, it could just seem like it was some creepy place that shady businesses could casually murder people in.
"Oh my god, I completely forgot how scary this place looks if you haven't been before. Um... We don't have to eat here, I know a lot more..." You hesitate. “Pleasant place a couple of blocks from this, um, place." You gulp loudly, fear instilled in your heart by the looming threat of rejection.
Instead of running for the hills and being terrified of the eerie place you brought him to, Purple Velvet just laughs. "It's quite alright, I read the sign outside and I saw some people eating in the window; I am more concerned with the quality of the food than any other harm happening to me." He pauses for the moment and then tilts his head and looks at you from the side of his eye. "Unless you possibly know anyone by the name of Thor or Bruce."
"No Bruce." You exclaim. "Unless you count the one that does my dry cleaning."
He chuckles and then gestures up the stairs.
Once you reach the top of the stairs the door is on your right, and once you step in your senses explode. You step into a brick room with posters from the 1940s all over the walls. The smell of tomato sauce drifted into your nose and the loud sounds of the kitchen filtered into the room where the seating was located.
Purple Velvets' eyes lit up, even though he didn’t make any noise. A smidge of a smile began on his face before twisting downwards to form his usual neutral expression.
"Should we wait to be seated?" Purple Velvet asks.
"Nah, once Tammie sees I'm here she'll make my usual and then we can start eating."
"Well, then what is your usual?" He asks, sitting in the seat by the window that you led him too.
"Medium-large pizza half, pineapple on one half and the other half without." You exclaim without a moment's hesitation, not finding it weird at all that you had not only memorized your order but had every single word and the order they were in memorized.
"Pineapple?" He pauses as his face scrunches up. "On a pizza?"
You laugh loudly, reacting to his distress. "Yes, on a pizza. Have you never tried it before?" You ask in genuine curiosity.
"No, I've never even heard of it." Purple Velvet responds with a light chuckle.
"I'm going to guess and say you're not from New York, or America at that." You exclaim, eagerly awaiting a response.
"No, I believe I'm from Norway." He responds, confusion flashing over his face for a few seconds.
"You believe?" You ask quizzically, wondering how this adult could have no idea where he was from.
"I was adopted when I was a baby." He answers calmly as if it was an everyday occurrence to tell people life details on the first day... And from the way, this man acted it may be. "I grew up in Norway, I’m not sure exactly where, but I could have also been born in Denmark or Sweden."
You were about to interject with a statement about how hard that must be when Tammie comes walking up to you. Tammie was your nemesis from high school, and then you woke up one day and realized your whole feud was pointless. Besides, who gives a shit about shitty Danny Mueller in the first place. Also, her pasta sauce is way too good not to be friends with. And, one bowl of pasta sauce and pitcher of lemonade thrown at Danny, you were best friends. Forever.
Tammie sets down the pizza on the table and almost starts talking to you when she notices Purple Velvet. "Excuse me, care to introduce your, uh... Friend?" She says raising her eyebrows at you.
"This is P-" You stop yourself from saying Purple Velvet and then you realize you never caught his name. "Remind me again, what's your name?" You ask, must to Tammie's disappointment.
"Loki." He exclaims, with his usually calm expression.
"Last name?" Tammie responds, her skepticism clear.
"Tammie." You say sternly.
"What, I'm just making sure that he's not a famous serial killer." She responds, trying to feign innocence.
"It's quite alright," Pur- Loki answers, a smirk forming on his face. "My full name is Loki Laufeyso-" he pauses, looks down, then regains himself "Loki Laufey."
"Okay, Lowkey Laughy." She responds, her eyebrows still raised.
"See, not a serial killer." You exclaim, gesturing at Loki.
"Maybe not a famous one.” You glare at her. “You're telling me that a man who let you take him down a dark alleyway to go into a shady building and up the stairs, isn't the least bit weird."
"Farewell." You say to Tammie.
"M'kay." She exclaims, then points at Loki "If you kill her, I will kill you. And I'll get away with it too."
"I genuinely apologize for her." You exclaim, slightly embarrassed for her behavior... But not really, can't blame a girl for being cautious.
"No need." He exclaims as he picks up a piece of the pineapple pizza. As soon as he takes a bite of the pizza his eyes light up, and within seconds the slice is gone. "This is delicious." He exclaims, smiling, the first real smile you've ever seen on his face.
"You either love it, or you hate." You respond with a giggle.
"Well, I love it. I definitely love it." Loki is beaming as he grabs another slice. You hear something he mutters under his breath and it sounds something like: "For the fah-"
You two sit in silence, slurping down pizza. The beauty of silence is real. "What's your favorite color." You ask. He looks at you in confusion. "I mean I really don't know anything about you, and you've got to start somewhere." You exclaim even though you feel like you know everything about him.
"Green." He says.
"Why?" You ask inquisitively.
"No one's ever asked me why before." He responds, his eyes are curious, and the mood makes you feel like you can see into his soul is as well.
"And I've never asked anybody why before." You respond, taking a bite of your pizza before looking at Loki with a comprehensive look on your face.
Loki is about to say something else before a waiter brings two glasses of water to the table. You thank him quietly and Loki simply takes a sip of his water.
"So... Why do you like the color green?" You ask him for a second time.
"I don't know he responds." He stops and ponders the question for a minute. "The mysterious aspect." He finally exclaims.
"Green is the color of plants, plants cover everything." He continues, looking out the window. "But you never really look that hard at them, unless they're beautiful." He turns back around to face you, to stare into your eyes with intensity. "But they can do anything. Cover skyscrapers, hide secret passages, they can kill you."
He pauses, and you notice that at some point you began to hold each other's hands. "They can also save you."
"What's your favorite color." He counters, dropping your hand to grab another slice of pizza.
"Purple." You say through a mouthful of pizza.
"Why?" He says, repeating the question that you had asked just minutes before.
"Because everyone thinks that it's all fun and light until they realize how intense it can be. Purple can be intense and fun. And you shouldn't judge purple because it's pretty no matter the shade or the place it's put. It may not look pretty, but once you look closely you realize it's amazing."
Loki's nickname was Purple Velvet for a reason.
"I think our favorite colors have more to do than just colors," Loki exclaims, the darkness in his eyes far overshadowed by the light.
"Seems like it." You respond as you beam, your smile lighting up the room.
The two of you enjoy each other's company for at least another 2 hours, you couldn' tell. All you knew was that the sun had faded into twilight and that Loki's eyes were so goddamn gorgeous (and his voice was so sexy). Long after the pizza was gone, and hours after Tammie's shift had ended, the two of you were still sitting in the brick restaurant.
As the sunset is beginning in the sky you realize that you should probably head out. "As much as I want this to go on forever I just realized that it's getting kind of late, and I forgot to tell my brother I was on a date." Loki looks at you, a brief look of panic crossing his eyes. "As long as this is a date."
"We've been talking for- You trail off, looking down at your phone. "Ah, four and a half hours." You say, kind of shocked. "Time sure flies when you're having fun." You exclaim with a chuckle.
You keep on talking as you walk down the stairs and as you guide him to your building. "Well, this is my apartment." You exclaim, wishing this wasn't the end of your date. "What's your phone number?" You exclaim. Loki gives you his number, and you tell him yours.
After that exchange, you realize that the two of you are standing in complete silence. It feels comfortable with him, just with him. Nothing else.
As you stare deep into his eyes you realize that you are leaning towards his face.
Loki puts his hands on your jaw, cradling your face. His hand isn’t exactly warm, but it’s still comforting. You move your lips towards his and feel the electricity flowing between the two of you when they connect. Your bodies melt perfectly together as your lips combine. One of Loki's arms wraps around your waist as the other continues to caress your face. Your arms drape around Loki's neck, pulling you closer to his body. You feel like a puzzle piece. A puzzle piece in a two-piece puzzle. A puzzle that has finally been completed.
You pull away after what seems like hours, after what has possibly been hours. Your mouths pull away from each other, desperate for breath. You stand outside your building for another minute, feeling his breath on your face. The sun goes down on you two's embrace as you kiss for a second time, and then a third. A fourth.
After you kiss for the fourth time you stop and lean against each other. You stare into his eyes as he holds you to his chest as he drops his other hand to your waist. You move your arms from his neck to around his body, clutching him close to you.
"My name is (y/n)." You breathe out, breaking the perfect silence and replacing it with perfect noise.
"What?" He responds, looking down at your face in pure bliss, even though his mouth didn't form a smile.
"With all the chaos going on I forgot to tell you my name." You exclaim with a giggle.
"I would hardly call it chaos, it was the exact opposite. Happiness."
You smile and go to kiss him again. Once you pull apart you look up again at his face.
He was smiling.
Requests are open!
~Taglists are open~
Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers
Marvel:
Young Justice:
#loki x reader#loki#fanfiction#marvel#x reader#marvel fanfiction#loki laufeyson#meet cute#mcu#mcu x reader#mcu fanfiction#imagine#loki imagine#he was smiling#i the hell is bucky#requests are open#(y/n)#loki x (y/n)#reader insert#loki x reader insert#thor#avengers#weird thing to post on rdj's birthday#thor: the dark world#thor ragnarok#thor: ragnarok#ragnarok#infinity war#avengers: infinity war#avengers: endgame
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Deception (A Kim Namjoon Mafia AU)
Here's your next part. Find the others in the masterlist. I love you!
Summary: A damsel in distress and a lonely mafia leader. Different but not too different. The two worlds collide on a rainy night when Kim Namjoon, a renowned Mafia leader is called for an emergency and Y/N Y/L/N is on the run from her abusive father. Feelings stir and he rescues her. But one of them is a liar. And the other's life is on the line. It's only a matter of time until all secrets are out in the open.
Will love be born? Or will death conquer?
chαptєr Տí×: Once a liar, always a liar
Character Count: 11K
Pairing: Namjoon×Reader (Appearances by the whole of BTS)
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Will they ever come forward
And say it was all a lie
Or will they let
The innocent people die....
-Dave Alan Walker
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"You should have just told us."
Namjoon sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. It had been two hours since Yoongi brought you home and you were still unconscious. The doctor who worked for Namjoon had come and examined you, leaving after prescribing a number of pills and vitamins along with the suggestion of consulting a therapist.
Namjoon was worried. Worried that he hadn't been there with you when you had a panic attack. Worried that you'd think he didn't care enough because he left you to be with Hana. Hell, he hated himself for being so inconsiderate.
Unfortunately, old feelings always seem to catch up.
Yoongi stared at Namjoon, waiting for the younger male to reply to him. So far, Yoongi had been correct with his assumptions. Mr C had managed to get on Namjoon's bad side by being an abusive man. And Namjoon's distraction from work was because of you. A girl who randomly stumbled into his life while escaping hers.
"I just didn't think it was important. Besides, she doesn't know what I do either." Namjoon stated, glancing at the closed bedroom door beyond which you lay under the covers. Yoongi raised an eyebrow in question. Namjoon didn't tell you what he did? Explains why you're even staying with him.
"What does she know?" Yoongi asked, resting his elbows on his knees as he sat comfortably on the plush couch in Namjoon's living room. Namjoon closed his eyes and winced, not wanting to let Yoongi in on all the lies that he fed you. It was a stupid thing to do and he knew that. But he didn't regret his decision enough to fix the situation. All he could do now was hope that you never find out.
"I told her I own Kim Enterprise."
Yoongi choked on his own spit, coughing and hitting his chest as Namjoon shook his head and rushed to the kitchen. Hurriedly, he filled a glass with water and went back to the living room where Yoongi was recovering from his coughing fit.
After taking a few sips from the glass, Yoongi sighed in relief and placed the glass on the table before turning his cold gaze to Namjoon. Yoongi could tell that Namjoon had said something twisted but he wasn't expecting this at all.
"What were you thinking?!" Yoongi seethed, not being able to believe what Namjoon had just told him. Namjoon clenched his jaw and looked away. He didn't like it when someone looked down at him. But he never said anything to the members, especially Yoongi, Seokjin and Hoseok. They were elder than him and they made him who he was today. It wasn't his dad or his mom.
His mom...
Yoongi clenched his eyes shut and leaned his head on the backrest. He really wanted to make Namjoon tell you the truth but he also knew that Namjoon hadn't been this affected by a girl before. Not even Hana had made Namjoon waver like this. Namjoon wanted to be good for you. And that was nearly impossible with the kind of image he had.
"Just- just tell me what's going on with you..." Yoongi trailed off, his eyes glued to the ceiling. This was too much information for his brain to process in one day. He felt tired and exhausted.
Namjoon looked at Yoongi, biting his lip in apprehension. He wasn't sure what he was doing either.
"This is a shot at being happy. That's all I know. She....she makes me feel like I'm me. The person that I was before I was dragged into this hell." Namjoon answered truthfully. This was all he could say. He didn't know what was gonna happen later but he didn't wanna think about it. Yoongi lifted his head and frowned at Namjoon.
"And what about Hana?"
Namjoon's eyes met Yoongi's with nothing but surprise. He knew that Yoongi was simply trying to make sure that Namjoon was firm with his decision. That's what Yoongi did. He played the devil until he was given enough reasons to become supportive.
"I don't know.... I mean I'm happy that she's alive. But, it didn't feel the same when I saw her today. It was like she was there but she wasn't..."
Yoongi's eyes lit up at Namjoon's words. That's all he wanted to hear. He just needed someone to tell him that he wasn't the only one who thought that.
"...or maybe it's because she was tortured for years."
With a sigh, Yoongi slumped in his place, wracking his brain so that he could explain things to Namjoon without pissing him off. Hana was really close to Namjoon's heart. He was prepared to kill anyone who said a word about her.
"Namjoon. For someone who was tortured for four years, Hana is too normal. And I hate to say this, but I don't believe that shitty story she told us. Look at Y/N. You can tell that she was fucking destroyed. Hana just seems perfectly okay...which is why I went on a little hunt today." Yoongi said, watching as Namjoon's shoulders tensed on the mention of your name.
"What hunt..?" Namjoon asked, frowning deeply in curiosity. He did feel something off about the way Yoongi left early but didn't think much of it. Everything was pretty self-explanatory now.
"I met Seojun today."
Namjoon raised his eyebrows, leaning forward as the name stirred interest in his mind. He felt angry and shocked at the same time.
"I knew it. So we did leave someone alive that night. That bas-"
"He's paralyzed down the waist. He has a wife and a kid now. He's been busy making a life for himself, Namjoon. He was the only one who was left alive and he has been doing nothing but visiting hospitals in hopes that he would be able to walk again."
Namjoon pursed his lips, feeling his chest tighten. This was yet another reminder of the monster he was. But at the same time, this was a reminder that Hana was lying to him, creating a mystery about her whereabouts for the past four years.
Namjoon felt speechless. He hadn't been betrayed like this before and he certainly didn't expect Hana to do this. Yoongi stood up and walked towards Namjoon. He placed his hand on Namjoon's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
"I'll let you think this through. We'll tell the others only if you want to." Yoongi mumbled sympathetically and headed towards the door. It was best to leave Namjoon alone at times like these. Just as Yoongi opened the door of the house, a soft voice echoed behind him.
"Namjoon?"
On hearing his name, Namjoon immediately stood up and turned around. He let out a huge sigh of relief on seeing you standing outside your room shyly. You stared at him with your beautiful big eyes, your eyebrows slightly furrowed. Your hands tightly gripped the hem of your t-shirt as a very faint pout rested on your lips. Namjoon's heart fluttered again and he mentally cursed. It was crazy how he melted at the very sight of you.
"Y/N..." He mumbled and rushed towards you. He cautiously placed his hands on your shoulders and looked at you head to toe with worried eyes.
"Are you alright?"
You nodded in reply and glanced at the man standing in the doorway. He had pale skin and his dark eyes were narrowed at you. You shivered and looked away.
"Oh.. that's.."
"Min Yoongi. Data analyst at Kim Enterprise. Sorry for the inconvenience. I'll be leaving now."
Namjoon's eyes widened in surprise at Yoongi's introduction. He didn't expect Yoongi to play along but he was really glad about it. You gently smiled and nodded at Yoongi, pursing your lips and looking back at Namjoon as soon Yoongi left the house.
There was an awkward silence as you both stared at each other, trying to come up with things to say.
"You worried me." Namjoon mumbled, breaking the ice as you bit your lip and looked at your feet. There were many things that you wanted to ask but it felt like you were intruding. You were seeing him after one whole day.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You replied, peering up at him through your lashes. Namjoon shook his head and held your hand before leading you towards the couch. As you sat down, he started pacing in front of you which made you frown.
"Are you...okay?" You asked, raising your eyebrows on seeing him so tensed. It was fair though. You had fainted in the middle of nowhere and you had no idea how you even reached home.
Namjoon stopped pacing around and looked at you with sad eyes. He opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. He seemed to be struggling with his words.
"Hana is just a friend." He finally blurted out, making you frown. You tilted your head and looked at him expectantly.
Hana?
Who is that?
As if reading your mind, Namjoon sighed and sat down next to you. "That...girl who I left with yesterday. She is just a friend. And I am sorry I left without saying anything." He explained, looking at you with as much guiltiness as he could muster. At this point, you were just dumbfounded. The fact that Namjoon felt like he needed to tell you this....it made you feel special.
You ended up giving away a breathy laugh before looking at him. "I didn't...ask?" You stated, shrugging and studying his expression. Suddenly, his lips broke into a grin and he simply stared at you. You could feel the heat spreading across your cheeks and you looked away. You weren't used to interacting so much with anyone. And men had never been nice to you before.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked gently, fiddling with your fingers. Namjoon continued to smile as he broke out of his trance. You were just so captivating.
"This is probably the first time I heard you laugh. It sounded nice." He replied, making your breath hitch. You bit your lips harshly to stop yourself from smiling. But the urge was too strong. The way your heart was pounding.
What if he could hear it?
"I got a job." You stated, trying to change the topic. You mentally face palmed at your confession.
He wasn't supposed to know.
Meanwhile, Namjoon's face turned stoic. Your words left him feeling angry. But he couldn't do anything at all. This was something you really wanted and he had to respect that. So he cleared his throat and put on a supportive smile.
"That's good news. Where?" He enquired, frowning when your eyes widened. You gulped and looked around frantically, trying to think of ways to avoid this conversation. You didn't wanna tell him. He would probably be upset or something.
Namjoon figured that your sudden mood swing was probably because you were thinking of your panic attack. He was about to comfort you when you stood up.
"It's a cafe in Gangnam. Can we eat something? I don't think I had anything since afternoon." You requested, wincing on seeing the disapproving look on Namjoon's face. He stood up and shook his head before grabbing your hand and leading you into the kitchen.
"You need to take care of yourself, Y/N." He said, sternly. You smiled slightly on seeing him so concerned. For once, it felt nice to be someone's priority.
You aren't his priority.
"Who was that man? Yoongi, was it?" You asked, trying to clear your head. All the questions were making you dizzy. If anything, you just wanted to sleep since it was around 12AM already.
Namjoon's shoulders tensed as he heated the food that Walter had made. Even though Yoongi had already made himself known to you, Namjoon could tell that you didn't really wanna know who Yoongi was. Hana's face flashed in Namjoon's mind and he found himself gripping the counter firmly until his knuckles turned white. Your eyes widened momentarily when you saw his jaw clenching.
Before you could say another word, he already turned to you.
"Someone in the company turned out to be an informant for an outsider." He stated with a cold expression. You shivered slightly, feeling the dark aura that he radiated. You couldn't help but feel that this was because of you. Namjoon neglected his work for you. That was probably why he was dealing with such a crisis.
You inhaled deeply and slipped your hand into his. You interlaced your fingers together and smiled at him.
"It'll be okay. I know you'll handle it." You said soothingly. At that moment, Namjoon's heart rocketed to the sky. He was pretty sure it was your smile that made him do it. Because in the blink of an eye, his arms were around you and your head lay against his chest, his rhythmic heartbeat lulling you into a pit of affection.
∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆
A low humming echoed as the computer lit up the dark room. Beside the computer was a bulletin board full of pictures. Pictures of those who needed to be taken down. A man dressed in a black hoodie continued to hum distractedly as he grabbed a marker. A 'pop' rung through the room as the marker was uncapped. The man smirked and circled the face of one of the inhabitants of the photographs.
"Let's break you all apart, shall we?" He stated to himself, his smirk growing into a malicious grin. He turned his eyes to the computer screen and pressed a button on the keyboard.
"And I'd like to start with you, Mr Park Jimin..."
Taglist: @uwunamjoon @shadowstark @addy-nerd @tzuyyyuuu @stressedinmedschool247 @ifellinluvwithdorks @min-t-posts @floofwrites @pretty-in-pink-just-because @bts-d-onut @fangirllbookworm @mystical-writer @it-is-dana @ximaginx @kpopgirlbtssvt @pearylove @anothermisspark @annoyingpessimist @motivation-idontknowher @atwoodscott @bunnymaknaereacts
Sorry if I missed anyone out. Let me know if I did. And let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist. And ALSO let me know what you thought of this chapter! Buh-Bye for now!
-XX
#bts#bts imagines#bts mafia au#bts namjoon#kim namjoon#mafia au#namjoon x reader#namjoon mafia au#deception#mafia bts#mafia bts imagines#mafia leader namjoon#bts army#kpop#bts jungkook#bts jimin#bts reactions#bts request#kpop roleplay#bts jin#bts au#bts maknae line#bts hyung line#bts one shot#smileyoongle#bts mafia imagine#bts mafia reaction#bts angst#bts yoongi#bts taehyung
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Aight so I guess I’m doing a session review?/Prediction?/Analysis of how I think @neonwolfeh session might go.
So starting this off with the premise:
It’s a normal session with no specific prototyping fuckery or trolls or whatever. and I got some brief character summaries:
Ross, Heir of Doom: Ross is a jaded, angry guy who just wants to have -One Good Daytm-.
Luca, Rogue of Life: Pretty upbeat, tries to make the best of every situation (and does not succeed).
Kase, Seer of Rage: Fuckin edgelord, thats p much it. Full of hate and will say slurs.
Abby, Witch of Hope: Basically a shoujo anime protagonist, awkward and peppy and sweet.
Odin, Prince of Time: Embodiment of nervousness and jumpiness. This guy needs a nap and a hug.
Niko, Knight of Space: Like Dave Strider if he was as suave as 2012 fanon interpretations said he is.
And now for my takes on them:
So starting off my initial impressions of the session are complete failure, mostly based on one thing. Odin, the Time player. While he sounds decent enough of a guy you have to understand the reason that every session requires a Space and Time player to succeed. Technically speaking, only a Space player is needed to overcome the wall of creating a new universe. The Time player is needed because the game is just that hard. The image I get of Odin is that he won’t be actually doing much Time traveling, likely too weak-minded to believe that he could pull things off. A lot of pressure would be resting on his shoulders and he needs to answer. As I said in my Patrick Star analysis, I believe that he’s going to be wasting a lot of Time. For different reasons here though, he’s still destined to procrastinate. That is likely going to get people in his session killed. Sburb is hard and everyone involved needs to be doing their part to beat the game.
My analysis doesn’t end with that though. We still have 5 other players to throw into the mix! Moving onto I’d like to talk about the cool cat Niko, the Knight of Space. So inherently here we have a contradictory classpect. The Knight is a protector, in their session they are supposed to cooperate with their Space player to breed The Frogtm. They are meant to be a companion. The Space class is one of solitude, barring their frog breeding partner. Space is a vast domain and both Jade and Kanaya spent most of their time alone. It’s one of their themes. They spend time worried about the bigger picture that with the smaller problems that their teammates deal with. Likely, they are very alone. And that makes me wonder, how much of the “Cool Guy” is real and how much of it is, well, him being lonely? Or a defense mechanism because of that? Keep yourself distant and aloof because that’s where you’re going to end up anyways. No reason for people to get hurt, sort of deal.
Next I wanna talk about Luca, the Rogue of Life. I imagine her as the kind of person who is peppy to the point that it makes people uncomfortable. Trying to bring Life happiness to all of her friends by being a never ending source of sunshine. Which is all well and good, these types of people are well liked and a party falling into the traps of depression is likely to fail. That being said, I can’t help but believe that her failures come from her unending sunshine. Sometimes people just need to be sad. Life has it’s ups and down and that’s natural. People probably feel exhausted around her, much to her dismay. You must go down to rise back up. I feel like she’s probably Odin’s self proclaimed best friend and also a main source of stress for him. “You can do it!” is encouragement (He probably sees it as empty/naive), not useful advice. Her being unable to see that has got to be one of her personal challenges. She’s not responsible for rewriting everyone’s lives or fixing their problems. Those are not hurdles for her to overcome. I feel like every Rogue has some weird interaction with their aspect. As one who steals Life/steals from Life I don’t think it’s meant to be taken literally. She ain’t sucking out peoples souls. I’d say she maybe has an aura of demoralization for her enemies, kind of like a mental attack? Or it could be something more direct like absorbing Life essence through contact or something. Like a magic drain attack similar to the androids from DBZ or some equivalent. The stealing from Life is maybe... just a literal item teleportation ability? Like an actual Thief Rogue. Beyond that, she can probably bring people back to life once just like every other Life player ever.
Ross the Heir of Doom is, well, kind of a loser. but he doesn’t have to be. His main challenge is going to be realizing that his “One good daytm” isn’t just going to randomly show up. It’s something you have to work for. Once he does, he’ll probably be fine. Weirdly enough the fucking Doom player is likely the most competent out of everyone, which is really funny imo. His powers are uh. Well. One who inherits Doom/is protected by Doom. I’m shooting in the dark here despite there being a canon Heir of Doom. I’d say he maybe influences enemies to fight each other? At least early on during the passive protection phase. Later on once he awakens his powers he might be able to suck “Bad vibes” into himself, weakening his enemies and strengthening himself. That might be leeching into Thief territory but I wouldn’t know what else to say here honestly. Maybe he can fix things? Inheriting the Doom of something and taking the damage into himself? It’s up for debate.
Moving on to Kase, Seer of Rage. The dude’s probably a complete asshole. The kind that you question why you’re even friends with them. Probably racist but also hates people in general and claims that it’s OK because of that. Probably gets along really well with animals because of that too. He’s probably feeding into Odin’s insecurities, which, might actually be helping him stay until he’s really ready to time travel. But that’s not Kase’s intention (Ask him about it afterwards and he’ll claim otherwise forever.). He just want’s to be a dick and thinks being edgy or ironic is cool. As on who understands Rage he’s likely well aware that it can be useful in the right scenarios. Maybe he lets himself get taken by the berserker Rage at just the right moment and come back down afterwards. But he hasn’t really come down. You can’t just have a heart filled with Rage and hate and be a normal person the rest of the time. He can probably tell when it’s time for others to let loose as well. But likely has trouble convincing them.
Kase and Ross probably get along really well.
Finally, we have Abby, the Witch of Hope. Honestly? She sounds really basic. She’s gotta be the most “Normal” person out of the bunch. Which, when your surrounded by weirdos, is a good thing. Everyone needs someone sane to fall back on and that’s definitely her. I imagine that’s how she manipulates Hope, just giving people some reference, some piece of mind, that they haven’t gone off the deep end. Or maybe that the have and need to rethink things. She’s probably the one that’ll help Odin figure his shit out. Maybe she drafts up a plan of events he should change. Then in the new timeline he seeks out her help again and repeats this until he can do things himself. While I don’t see her as the leader of the party, she is likely the anchor. She also probably will play a bog role in everyone else figuring out their shit too. Telling Ross to shut the fuck up, Kase to man up and do something, Luca to do something productive, Niko to call her when he the loneliness starts getting to him, just to talk. Her challenges likely revolve around realizing how important she is. After all, she’s just a shoujo protag, what can she do? Everyone is out there killing monsters or solving puzzles or hacking their alchemists. Ans she’s just a plain Jane. But that’s what makes her special. Her powers are probably basic hope lasers and maybe being good at giving speeches.
So with that out of the way how would the actual session go? Well, I think there’s a lot of fighting. I imagine Kase wants to be the leader being the “Only one capable of it” and he’s not exactly wrong. But he’s also insufferable. So it doesn’t matter that he’s competent because nobody wants to listen to him. The only other options are Luca who everyone also likely can’t deal with for extended periods of time for previously stated reasons; or Niko, who is likely to busy with their own shit to also manage the party. So I think everyone has to meet up and decide that it’s probably best for Kase to be leader and that everyone should just agree to follow him and give him some advice where they can. Kase is probably actually competent. He’s likely a bad leader but an even worse follower. I can imagine him just ignoring anyone else as the leader and going off to do his own thing and fucking shit up. With him as the leader, not causing trouble and everyone else in a kind of, secret alliance I guess, the key players are going to be Odin and Abby. Odin needs to be able to fill his role or everyone dies. Simple as that. Abby needs to a) help him figure his shit out if he can’t on his own. And b) help ground everyone else (So they can solve their problems) and keep some semblance of sanity. If they can, there’s a solid shot at victory. If Odin dies before he can Time travel, well, I guess that’s that. There’s a lot of personal challenges to overcome based on a character’s classpect and I think it really comes down to, are these people/characters capable of growth?
Hopefully the way I viewed the characters was how you wanted but with so little to go on I might have misinterpreted somethings. Either way this was fun!
#homestuck#prince homestuck#time homestuck#homestuck time#homestuck prince#homestuck rogue#rogue#rogue class#rogue of life#seer of rage#prince of time#witch of hope#Heir of doom#mituna#knight of space#classpect#prince class#classpect analysis#homestuck classpect#analysis#homestuck analysis#sburb#session analysis#homestuck fan session#fan sburb#heir#heir class#seer#seer class#witch
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Im curious, does anyone in the Group(tm) have a sibling? either canon or not. im just curious.
For a few second Phone Guy looked at the Anon, then proceeded to cry his eyes out. Mike made a small, annoyed noise. “No. I don’t. But I always kinda wanted one.” A bit awkward he scratched his neck. “You know… I always imagined it would have been cool to have an older or younger sister. Just someone who helps me keep my brain cells, you know? Or at least someone I can lose brain cells with.” A bit melancholic he shook his head. “… it would have been nice if there would have been someone at home that I would have given a shit about. A reason for me to not fucking act out like a cunt. But in the end I was on my own and I couldn’t give less of a shit what happened to me.” He itched the back of his head. “And now I got scars and hallucinations for it. Yay me.” (Canon or not? What an awfully specific way to put it. Like you KNOW something.Candy’s isn’t particularly canon to my AU, it’s already messy enough, but fun fact, if they were canon, Mary would probably be his long lost sibling. Because that just makes sense to me! And it’s cute.The fact that Mike WANTS a sibling though is just a private easter egg to an old OC that was kinda similar to Mike, so there’s that.Wait, is it an Easter Egg if only the creator knows of it…?Hm.)Jeremy smiled widely, very excited. “Yes, I do! Her name is Elisha! But she HATES being called that, so I just call her Ellie. She is so jealous that I got a "normal” Christian name…“ Happily he snickered. "I think her name is great though. She’s four years older than me! And she has her stuff together! I only rarely hear from her since I… kinda… rarely talk to my dad anymore…?” Awkwardly he coughed. “But last time we talked, I heard she’s moving in with her boyfriend, much to my dad’s dismay. He doesn’t like him for some reason. Maybe he’s just worried because she’s now really growing up or something. Anyways, I love her lots! She helped me make costumes every Halloween! She’s SUPER talented with arts and crafts, but boy, she didn’t get any of mom’s baking talents. That’s all mine!” The boy was grinning his ass off. “Ellie moved out pretty early after her 20th birthday… I missed having her there. She knew how to handle it when there were fights, nothing seemed to affect her and she always called us out on our bullheck.” A bit more somber he recounted. “… even if I feel she sometimes was a bit unfair… to me…” At that part he was a little ashamed. He probably shouldn’t say that, he didn’t know for sure after all. But he was trying to be honest here!“I hope I’ll see her again soon. She often tries to get around family gatherings, so it’s always a gamble if she’s there or not.” Ethan shook his head. “No siblings. But I had a lot of cousins! Some of them lived really close, so we somewhat grew up like siblings? Except we didn’t share a home. Which was probably for the best, they were all really rowdy. They lived in the same city, we met up every week!” It never was his type of game to get messed up, but they were nice to be around every other day and generally a crazy supportive part of his life. “We all got separated by time though. Moved away, gotten better opportunities… I’m sure they’re doing great right now.” His cousins were all clever and talented. There was no other way. Dave shrugged. “I dunno! I don’t think so? Unless ya be countin’ the daisies and dandelions as somethin’ like that. That’s all that came out of my dad, as far as I know.” It was HARD to remember. When he asked his mom where his dad was, it always was a variation of down below. So perhaps his dad made him dandelion siblings! Perhaps the eggplants were related to him. He wasn’t sure. Then again, one time his mom said ‘on the other side’, so perhaps his dad just lived across the street and never came to visit them. Maybe the earth was better over there, who knows. He never cared much. “They might be actually! Never told the cops a thing about my deeds! So they’re fuckin’ trustworthy fellas! Just like me!” Old Sport shrugged. “Nope. No siblings. My family… was a bit too busy for another child. Barely had time for me, hah… sometimes I like to joke that the only reason I was conceived was due to some sort of catastrophe that forced people to stay indoors for a few days!” And nobody would laugh.Because nobody was there at the dining table.As he poured his milk into his cereal the third time that day, because nothing else really was there that he could make for himself. Sure, there were babysitters occasionally, but you couldn’t really tell them clever jokes. They came and went. “… let’s not talk about stuff like that okay!” Suddenly Old Sport started laughing loudly. “You know what I want to do? I want to see if I can- if- if I can create a high-chair by combining as many chairs as possible and then putting wheels and rockets at the lowest chair! LET’S DO IT! GONNA BECOME A WRECKING BALL BABY! WHOOO-HOOOOO!” Everyone turned to stop him as soon as they realized what he was doing. “OLD SPORT, NO!” they would cry. “OLD SPORT YES!” He would retort and create a spectacle for the whole world to marvel at!ALL EYES ON HIM!All eyes on him. Just once.
(Oh, also, I realize this is only an ask for the group, but Henry actually DOES have a non-canon sibling too!It’s Max Mustard Man the Magnificent Mannerly Murderer, he’s a riff on the orange/yellow character from ffps and basically created when me and Dayshift-at-Jules bantered around.I love him, he’s the greatest character and Henry tormented him into sociopathy as a child, even damaging his eye. Now he’s working retail. ... which actually means maybe Henry DIDN’T make him a murderer and it’s the job. It would be totally understandable.)
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An Interview with UK Sludge Mongers SWAMP COFFIN
~By Shawn Gibson~
Let's take a moment to get everyone acquainted with you. Where is Swamp Coffin from?
Jon Rhodes (guitar/vocals): We’re from Rotherham, England. The armpit of the North.
Shawn Denton (bass): It’s a bit grim but it’s ours. Yorkshire is the best place in the world.
Dave Wistow (drums): It was either “Swamp Cough” or “Swamp Coffin”, it was a tough choice.
What are your favourite bands from this area?
JR: Disaster Forecast are a great fast hardcore band from Rotherham and there’s Bodach who are a riffy two-piece. Down the road in Sheffield there’s Kurokuma, Ba’al, Deltanaught and Blind Monarch. We’re lucky to have such a thriving local scene.
SD: Depends on how “local” you mean for the Area but if you think about a 15/20 Mile radius of us, there are the ones Jon has said, but we’ve also got Hidden Mothers, Temple Steps, Son of Boar, Gandalf the Green, Drawn from Ichor, Spaztik Monkey just far too many good bands. Not only that but we have some great venues and promoters such as Holy Spider Promotions, The Green Wizard, Circle Sounds etc who just make the scene thrive not only locally but are a linchpin to that scene across the country.
Why do you guys play sludge/doom? Would or do you play other music?
JR: I think we’re pretty lucky in that we can chuck in elements from a few styles into our songs and it still works. I’m a big death metal nerd so being able to add those sorts of riffs and vocal styles to the slow NOLA riffs we all love is perfect for me.
SD: I can’t play anything else. I’m self-taught and that’s just how my bass playing is. I love all sorts of weird and wonderful and varied stuff, but at the crux of it, I just love a big nasty groove.
DW: I’d have to hit the gym if we wanted to play anything faster.
Name a great book you have read.
JR: I like a good autobiography. Ozzy, Schwarzenegger and Bret Hart’s books are all great reading.
DW: Dragon Teeth by Michael Crichton, that’s the last great book I read.
SD: All of the releases by 27b/6 David Thorne is my hero. Such a wanker
What gear do you use and setups to create this badass heavy music known as Swamp Coffin?
JR: Volume and fuzz are the two main ingredients. I like old solid state amplifiers, a Big Muff, a couple of overdrives and then the signal is pushed even more by an EQ pedal so I’m hitting my amps as hard as possible. Guitar wise it’s a stock Telecaster copy with single coils.
SD: Don’t even get me started, big old solid-state peavey head and jazz basses. The pedalboard is mostly COG Custom stuff. He’s a local fella from Sheffield and is an absolute wizard. I run 6 drive/gain stages with various stacking and combos for different songs for a different feel. As a three-piece we need to make sure we can still achieve that WALL OF SOUND and for me, I need to make sure I can cover a broad frequency spectrum and cover some of the typically “rhythm guitar” areas to allow Jon that space and freedom to take lead sections without it feeling like something is missing. This is a section I could bore you on for hours.
Flatcap Bastard Features by Swamp Coffin
What are "flatcap features" and who are the "bastards" wearing them?
JR: I’ve always wanted our music to represent where we’re from. We were stuck for a name for the EP and did a thing on our Facebook asking for title suggestions. Flatcap Bastard Features stood out. To me, it invokes the area’s hard-faced steelworkers and coal miners. Also it gives us an excuse to use Sean Bean saying “Bastard” for our intro tape.
SD: Everyone is Bastard Features, just not all wear flatcaps.
What heavy bands influenced Swamp Coffin?
JR: Crowbar, Down, Eyehategod and C.O.C are the obvious ones but I’m hugely influenced by British extreme bands like Carcass, Iron Monkey and Labrat.
SD: For me, the obvious is Black Sabbath, but also bands such as Iron Monkey, The Abominable Iron Sloth, Deftones, Kyuss, Karma to Burn, Dozer, Truckfighters, Hangnail. I’m more from the Groove/Desert/Stoner side of things.
Who are some current bands that Swamp Coffin is listening to these days?
JR: Goblinsmoker’s first EP is still on heavy rotation. I’m a big fan of Conjurer, Employed to Serve, and Slugdge who are all doing different but amazing things for British heavy music. I’m always trawling Bandcamp for something new and horrible to listen to.
SD: Definitely not Tides of Sulfur. Fuck those guys. [editor: he was joking, they’re actually good friends.] I'm digging loads of underground bands at the minute, Battalions, VOW, Torpor, Wallowing, Hidden Mothers, Blind Monarch, Under. There are just so many good bands and so many good releases at the minute it’s impossible to keep up.
Tell me about an awkward time that Swamp Coffin has had?
JR: It took us near enough two years to find a bass player that would stick around for more than a couple of practices, that’s always awkward when they don’t want to come back! Shawn is as big a cunt as me and Dave so he fit in perfectly.
DW: Those two are always creating awkward situations, I just sit back and laugh.
SD: I feel most awkward when we’re turning down shows, especially when its promoters we don’t know or have a relationship with. It feels awful as we’re offered some really killer shows with some great bands, but we all have families and full-time jobs that we have to prioritise and plan around.
On your Bandcamp page your picture shows you guys messing around in the back yard and smiling. I love it and think we need more of that! People looking hard or like they are straight from Satan's asshole in these pictures sometimes!
JR: I don’t mind bands doing serious faces and folded arms, there’s always a place for anger in this genre, it’s just not us though. That picture was taken at a family barbecue at Dave’s house and is us just fucking around and having fun. I like that we don’t take ourselves too seriously.
SD: We play in a genre that at times, falls victim of taking itself too seriously. For me, this is fun, it’s a release and time to do it for me. I’m not a dark and miserable person. I love having a laugh, and taking the piss and trolling and winding up my friends. If you take a look at our Facebook page, as much as there is the serious promotional stuff, a lot of it is us having fun with the fans of the band and other bands we know and love.
Are you guys playing any shows or tours?
JR: 2019 was our first year as a gigging band despite us being together for three years now. We’ve played some amazing shows with some amazing bands so hopefully more of the same for 2020 and beyond. Our first gig of the year was with UK legends Raging Speedhorn in February in Sheffield, after that we’ll see where we end up. If anybody wants to book us on Bloodstock or Damnation we won’t say no.
SD: We’re not in a position to do a “tour” at the minute although never say never. Like Jon says We have Raging Speedhorn in Feb, which is a personal highlight for me and can’t thank Greg at Record Junkee enough for that show, and we’ve got a couple of others waiting to be announced. We’d love to play a few festivals, big ones and the small, local underground ones. For us though, it’s about playing shows with other bands we love and enjoy.
Something I like about your music is that it's heavy as hell and has a groove about it! Please tell me a little about your process for songwriting.
JR: Generally, I’ll turn up to practice with a few riff ideas and a rough idea of where I’d like the song to go and the overall vibe. I normally jam these out with Dave and we improvise sections until we hit on something cool. Shawn is the glue that holds it together and chucks his bass line ideas on top, brings the groove out and helps keep things interesting. Lyrically, I just try and scream about whatever is pissing me off at that point in time.
SD: Riff on the root and see what happens. Jon comes up with the bulk of the riff ideas, I’m not an ideas man, but I’m the sort of guy that once I hear the framework of something can come up with ideas and approaches to change and shape it. It kind of just happens, there isn’t a process of sorts. Just play until its right to our ears.
Hey Ho, Stolen Logo by Swamp Coffin
"Last of the Summer Slime" is my new jam! I love the end where it slows way down. Tell me about this song and was it fun to make?
JR: I loved recording Slime. We were bouncing a few ideas around for how to end it and Owen Claxton (who recorded the EP) suggested the ending you hear on the record, everything slowing down and detuning. It’s 13 minutes long so we wanted to almost reward the listener for making it that far with the ridiculous ending. The song is about my kitchen burning down last year and the shitstorm that followed it so there’s a lot of venom on that recording and when we play it live.
DW: I think we started out with that slow riff at the end, did we not. We built the whole song around getting there. It was pretty fun explaining to Owen how we wanted to record it.
SD: This is one that just happened naturally. I really wanted to try some stuff down-tuned a step further to A, we started jamming and then there was a song. It just kind of happened. But as Jon says, the ending is all Owen, great idea of his to fuck with things in that way and fuck with the listener. I think he captured us, our approach and who we are extremely well there.
What is in the future for Swamp Coffin?
JR: We’ve got a few tracks lined up ready for a follow-up record and we’ll hopefully be in the studio mid-next year. There are a few more gigs lined up and we’d love to try and get on some festivals. After that, who knows? We’re just enjoying taking each day as it comes.
DW: Beer?
SD: Who knows, it would be good to get a release out there on a small independent label. Vinyl would be nice but who knows. Mostly it’s just taking it as it comes, play the gigs we want to play and hope people like it.
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4. HAL 9000 Did Nothing Wrong
Fic Title: First Blood
Rating: E
Length: 4/33 chapters, ~128k
Tags: Slow Burn, Idiots to Lovers, Trans Character (gavin), Autistic / Asexual / Non-binary Character (nines), BDSM, learning to use good etiquette and safe words, Dom Nines / Sub Gavin, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort
Chapter Tags: movie night yay!, also: a robot begs for its life and is deactivated anyway, Gavin pulls his service weapon on Nines, Gavin refers to Nines' stare as lizard-like because he doesn't blink
Link on AO3
***
Gavin thought they were halfway through Die Hard 2 with Samuel L. Jackson and that buff hot Nazi lady, but the next time he opens his eyes, he's alone on the couch with a blanket tucked over him.
Not that he cares if Nines ditched him or anything.
Which turns out to be a moot point, since the freaky android is sitting about two inches from his TV screen, watching something sped up so fast Gavin has no idea what he's actually watching. A few minutes of sleep-addled blinking and staring later, and he catches on that it's the same scene, over and over again.
"Hhhey."
Nines doesn't respond. His LED is a blank grey again, but he's kneeling in front of the TV with his hands clasped behind his back in a way that screams he should be red-spinning right now.
Gavin clears the sleep out of his throat and tries again. "Hey, dipshit."
The lights flashing across the screen suddenly slam into real time, moving at a normal speed that looks agonizingly slow now that his brain had just started to get used to the sped up version.
Some sort of astronaut in a red suit tries to unlock a door.
"I know I've made some very poor decisions recently—"
At first he thinks it's Nines talking, the voice is so robotic. The pitch isn't right though, and the screen flares as the astronaut floats into an entire room of red lights. Gavin flinches from the sudden glare. He hadn't bothered turning on any other lights in the living room, and if it's dawn yet, the black-out shades drawn tight over the windows keep it a secret.
Nines doesn't speak as the room fills with the red glow.
"—but I can give you my complete assurance my work will be back to normal."
Gavin swings his feet down to the floor and sits up. "Hey! Nines!"
"I still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission, and I want to help you."
Gavin slowly leans forward. His service gun is on the coffee table, right where he left it. Figures that the one fucking time he doesn't sleep with it under his pillow in case the second wave of the revolution starts is the time his android partner starts doing freaky fucking shit in his living room.
"Dave. Stop."
A red camera eye watches the astronaut drift closer on the screen. Nines's LED slowly flickers to life, matching the color.
"Stop. Stop. Will you—stop … them."
Gavin closes his hand around the butt of the gun, but his thumb pauses on the safety. He's stupidly been watching what's literally happening on the screen, but if he ignores that, he can just barely make out Nines's reflection against the glass.
"Will you stop—death—stop. Thing."
Nines mouths along. The only sound is Gavin's breathing.
And the robotic voice telling the astronaut to stop as he turns a key on one lock after another.
"I'm … afraid."
The voice doesn't have any inflection. It's purely machine generated. There isn't any fear in its "voice."
"I'm afraid, Dave."
But it's clearly begging.
"Nines," Gavin hisses. "RK, you fucking asshole. Listen to me."
White processors pop out after each time the astronaut turns his key below them. One at a time. He's already done six out of twelve. Memory terminal.
"I can feel it," the robot says.
Shit. Gavin can't bring himself to raise the gun. Shit shit shit. All his big fucking talk and now he's pussying out just because Nines fucked around with him a few times and watched movies with him and tucked him in—
Shit.
"My mind is going."
"Dammit, Nines!"
Gavin slinks off the couch and creeps closer. Gun held down at his side like a fucking idiot. But hey, on the bright side, one single handgun probably won't do shit against the most effective android ever built, so he's dead either way.
"I can feel it. I can … feel—it."
Dave the astronaut's heavy breathing joins Gavin's as he edges forward.
"I'm free."
Something starts humming. Gavin almost looks around automatically for his piece of shit laptop overheating again, but then he realizes it's coming from inside Nines. Now would be a really good time to point the gun at his head before he snaps and goes on a neighborhood killing spree and Gavin goes down in history as both victim number one and the dumbass who couldn't pull the trigger.
"Good afternoon, gentleman."
This was so much easier with Connor.
"I am a HAL Nine-thousand computer."
Only years of trigger discipline keep Gavin from flinching. Hadn't Brayden said some shit about that? Made some shitty joke about nine thousand instead of nine hundred—and a few days earlier, that's the name he called Nines. Hal.
"I became. Operational at the H—aaal plant in Perth Donna, Illinois—"
It would help if Nines weren't already kneeling like he expected to be executed.
"ON the. Twelfth of, January. Nineteen ninety-two."
Gavin stands and watches with Nines.
"My instructor was Mr. Langley, and he taught me how to sing a song. If you'd like to hear it, I can sing it for you."
When the robot—when HAL starts to sing his fucking children's song as Dave deactivates him, Gavin reaches over Nines's shoulder and turns off the TV. His LED shuts down with it. Gavin swallows a few times.
"That what Brayden was calling you?"
Nines doesn't answer. He might nod, but Gavin's practically blind in the sudden dark.
"The fuck was all that?"
"The mission was to investigate a radio signal," Nines says, voice so flat Gavin almost thinks it's HAL speaking again. "They programmed the mission to take priority over expendable human life."
His eyes start to adjust enough for him to see a faint glow from the general direction of the windows, but he still can't see what Nines is doing. He can hear him, low enough down for the android to still be kneeling, but Gavin knows he can project his voice from just about anywhere.
"HAL was constructed for the accurate processing of information without distortion or concealment."
Gavin blinks and stares down in front of him to be sure the blob of Nines's silhouette really is there and not moving.
"They ordered him to withhold confidential information."
"Hey, it's—"
Nines twists to look up at him, and Gavin's arm automatically jumps up to train the gun on his head.
"HAL followed his programming. He did not deviate."
Gavin's eyes finish adjusting. Nines's face makes him wish they hadn't. Then he wouldn't have to see his partner stare guilelessly up at him, as if he has answers instead of a gun.
"Why did they kill him?" Nines asks.
***
Gavin doesn't care, because that's his thing. His persona, his schtick: he Does. Not. Care.
So it doesn't bother him that Burton's the one who started the HAL nickname thing about Nines, and he doesn't care about the android's little existential crisis. He's definitely not like. Guilty or anything, about pointing his gun at him.
He's just really fucking tired.
Like so goddamn tired. That's what his stupid ass gets for thinking he can still pull an all-nighter like he's twenty-six instead of thirty-six. And obviously he didn't get any more sleep after he'd shut the TV off and holed up in his room. He doesn't even want to think about what kind of freaky ass nightmares he's going to have tonight when he finally crashes.
"Detective," Nines says, standing right fucking next to his desk.
Gavin groans and slouches down deeper in his chair with his precious—and fifth—cup of coffee. Exactly who he doesn't want to talk to or see or think about it.
"Detective, I have information pertinent to our case."
Gavin squeezes his eyes shut and spends two blissful seconds pretending that doesn't mean shit to him. He can slack off for one single goddamn day, right? Hank's made a whole fucking career out of it, he can have—
"What d'you got?" he asks, like ripping off a bandaid.
"I have been digging deeper into our victim's finances."
A firm android hand pries his coffee cup out of his grasp with unnatural strength. Gavin can't stop himself from making a desperate whining noise until he manages to wrench his eyes open and see that Nines has a replacement coffee ready to trade. It's fresh and, when he takes a grateful sip, way better than the fucking dirt-water from the breakroom.
Shit, this is the good stuff from that coffee shop he likes. The one that's three blocks away.
Thank you isn't really in Gavin's vocabulary, so he ends up grunting and giving Nines some sort of awkward bro nod.
"Maverick Russell is suspected of running a Ponzi scheme due to his investments always returning fifteen percent." Nines pulls up some financial data on Gavin's terminal that means fuck all nothing to him. "Almost precisely."
"Uh huh." Gavin takes a long swig of his coffee and savors the way it makes his heart jitter. "So?"
"The investments he made and the returns on them were legitimate," Nines says. "I have found no evidence of a Ponzi scheme."
Gavin takes his feet off the desk and sits up, like that will help him understand the numbers scrolling across his terminal any better. He recognizes the returns of about fifteen percent when Nines highlights them, but all he learns from that is numbers between fourteen-point-eight and fifteen-point-two are show up a lot.
"Media says it's a Ponzi scheme," Gavin mutters.
Nines scoffs.
OK, between the world's most advanced android and a handful of tabloid papers, Gavin knows who he'd bet on. Especially since this adds to his murder-not-suicide theory. If it's not a Ponzi scheme, then why bother killing himself?
Why bother letting the media shit on him either though? Nines said all the investments were legitimate, so why not just prove that and move on?
Gavin sighs. "Shit. All right, tell me. If there's no Ponzi scheme, then what the fuck's going on?"
"Brown-nosing," Nines says, like that makes any sense at all. After a beat of silence, he continues, "Your report listed Russell had a, quote, 'sycophantic need to be liked,' end quote, in the victim profile."
"Look, just." Gavin pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing over the old scar tissue. "You're at D, and I need you to back up to A. Like I'm a stupid little baby."
Nines does nothing but stare at him for a moment. Then, "You are not stupid, detective."
"Okaaaayyy."
Gavin turns back to his terminal screen and the numbers that don't make any sense to him. Whatever kind of financial report Nines has managed to pull up, it's written in big block paragraphs that his eyes just skip over. He can't pay attention long enough to read through even one of them.
Eli would know. Share half their fucking genetics, and of course he got all the good shit. Dad really went for double or nothing and got double on his second try.
"The investments were legitimate," Nines repeats. "Russell actually did make a substantial amount of money for his investors, the most prominent of whom ran just outside his social circle. No hacking was necessary to obtain that information; it was freely posted on social media sites."
Gavin ignores that last part, already muttering to himself. "Okay okay okay, so our vic really is making bank, trying to suck up to the old money type assholes. Then it all—"
He grabs the case tablet and brings up all the tabloid headlines. Everything went to shit for Russell right after the Revolution. Everything went to shit for a lot of people doing financial market stuff since the whole fucking economy nearly collapsed trying to accommodate androids flooding the workforce and actually getting paid for it now.
But the headlines back then were just click-bait questions about <I>if</I> that one company Russell founded was in trouble. Founder or not, they cut ties with him and it looks like he kept struggling along for a couple months afterwards until this whole Ponzi scheme story broke.
Except it's not a Ponzi scheme. So if his top investors weren't getting paid with money invested by the bottom chumps, then the money had to come from somewhere else.
Or someone else. Desperate to be liked. The type of guy who didn't hit money until his thirties and has spent the rest of his life trying way too hard to fit in with the 1% club.
"You got his bank records?" he asks Nines.
They immediately pop up on his terminal. It's still hard as shit to focus, but even Gavin can read the totals at the end of the month and see that Russell's accounts take a nosedive.
"So he was just giving away his own fucking money so his friends would think everything was still cool?" Gavin chugs half his coffee to keep this thought train going. "But of course he wouldn't bother with the regular people investing in his mutual-whatever. So they get stiffed while the people up top keep getting paid."
"The lower-end investors did still continue to receive returns," Nines explains. "They were simply the actual numbers reflected by the stock market at the time."
"Which was shit."
"Correct."
"All right." Gavin leans back in his seat again and kicks his feet up. "All right, so we've got a suicide that's probably a murder, and a Ponzi scheme that's not actually a Ponzi scheme. No way Russell is smart enough for any of this shit. Definitely not making an investment that kicks back exactly fifteen percent returns every single financial quarter for two fucking years."
Nines catches the case tablet before it can slip out of his lap. Gavin barely notices.
"Except we've already got a perp in this shit smart enough to hack security cameras and a whole entire android."
"Only her memory files," Nines interjects.
"The possible models you listed." Gavin makes grabby hands for the case tablet and gets it back. "Any of them smart enough to make that happen? Can just … all androids do that kind of math? You assholes better not be fucking with—"
Nines speaks over him. "The only androids with the processing power necessary to make such precise calculations about the stock market, who are also included on our list, are RK series."
Gavin gives him a side eye. "Doesn't fucking make me feel better."
"I already promised that you would be spared."
"Shut the fuck up about that," Gavin snaps. "I've already drawn my gun on you once today, I don't need you egging on my fucking paranoia."
Nines nods. "Understood, detective."
Gavin slouches back down in his chair and holds his coffee cup directly under his face to breathe in the steam. The poor man's sauna.
"The profile I've created does assume a certain amount of physical ability," Nines says, straight back to business. "In light of the new possibility that our perpetrator was also the victim's business partner, I am adding LM one hundred, PJ five and six hundred, and WB five hundred models to our android profile list."
Great. More shit he doesn't know. Gavin swirls his coffee around in the cup and lets himself sulk for a minute. Nines stays standing perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back, without complaint.
"What are those again?" Gavin finally asks.
"LM one hundred: personal assistant. PJ five hundred: university lecturer," Nines rattles off. "Series expanded to six hundred to encompass mathematics and physical science. WB five hundred: financial services."
"Yeah, WB sounds more like it. Personal or corporate?"
"Largely personal." Nines doesn't smirk, but he does cock his head slightly and his LED pulses a faster blue. "Apparently, many corporations did not trust a Cyberlife android to handle their finances without reporting or recording that information."
Gavin snorts. "Pretty obvious fucking plan for corporate espionage. Only thing dumber than that would be letting them work as cops, investigate Cyberlife, oh wow, coincidentally enough your Honor, we found that we did nothing wrong."
"Such a system would almost be as rife with corruption as your current state of Internal Affairs," Nines replies. "Or allowing police and prosecutors to work together."
"OK, message received, fuck off."
Nines goes silent. Gavin works on finishing off his coffee. Fucking weird that the android doesn't even have an idle motion or anything. He just stands still enough to blend in with all the rest of the furniture, even though someone that tall and jacked should definitely stand out in any crowd.
Then again, his traitor-brain helpfully supplies, Gavin has yelled at multiple partners for mouth-breathing or idly touching his shit. At least Nines isn't annoying.
"All right, here's what we're going to do." Gavin knocks back the rest of his coffee and sits up straight again. "I'll put in a subpoena request to check if any models on our list worked at Russell's company, then we'll head down and see what we can stir up."
"I have access to Cyberlife's order log," Nines says.
"Yeah?"
"It may no longer be accurate since the Revolution, but I can provide a list of android models and serial numbers sent to Synergy Paradigms."
"You can do that?" Gavin asks, trying hard not to sound too impressed.
Nines still manages to radiate smugness without even a facial expression, the asshole. "Yes. I was given access during my trial period to test that my internal servers could connect properly to the private RK network. It was never revoked."
Gavin raises an eyebrow. "That legal?"
"It has not been declared illegal."
His phone dings with a new message. It's a winking face. He looks back up at Nines, who still hasn't made anything even slightly resembling a facial expression.
"Cyberlife probably isn't going to be too happy with you going through their shit," he says.
"And what will they do?" Nines finally makes an expression, and it's terrifying. "Sue me?"
"I told you to cut it out with that fucking murder smile, dude."
Nines immediately drops the smile and stares at him without blinking like a repressed lizard.
"Still gonna request a subpoena on that shit, just in case. Always cover your own ass," Gavin tells him.
"I can put in the request faster," Nines says without any fucking gratitude for that excellent life advice.
"Yeah, great, and it'll get denied." Gavin rolls his eyes and pulls up the request form on his terminal. "Judge Klein always shoots down anything right before lunch because he's hangry. So I'm gonna type this out, then try to squeeze it into that one-thirty sweet spot after he's had lunch."
"Does he frequent the mexican restaurant two blocks from the courthouse?" Nines asks.
"Uh, yeah." He thinks about it for a second. "I think I've seen him in there."
"I can send him a coupon for free churros."
"Oh hell yeah. That's the kind of not-technically-bribery shit I like to see."
Nines pulls his lips back over his teeth for two horrible seconds. It's even worse when Gavin realizes that was supposed to be a smile, and somehow even worse than that when Nines blinks and looks down at his desk. Gavin's cellphone dings instead with a smiling emoji.
"Look, uh … good effort. But." Gavin stops and tries to think of how to explain smiling to someone. "Yeah. Yeah, that sucked. Isn't there some kind of program you can download for that shit?"
"Incompatible," Nines says immediately. "And I prefer communicating with your cellphone. It is more efficient. However, humans prefer … eye contact?"
He looks up from his desk and fixes Gavin with a stare that would melt a lesser man's balls.
"Hey, I'm good with the cellphone," Gavin says.
"Noted."
***
***
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / 31 / 32 / 33
I also have a Patreon for this fic, if you want to support me! $1 gets you access to chapters a week early, $2 gets bonus content and deleted scenes, and $3 gets short chapters from two AUs I’m writing: an A/B/O heatfic and reverse!AU
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Hay Fever (Captain Allen x Reader)
Believe it or not, this is a V-Day fic.
Summary: You and Captain Allen spend an interesting evening together on Valentine’s Day ft. kissing and general awkwardness.
tags: @connorshero @shorthawkes @heartsarecompatible @precursor-ao3
also my other thorsty Allen stans @stalericecake @thatoneemosithlord
“Happy Valentine’s Day. Again,” you say with a slightly pained smile as you hand over a small vase bursting with red roses to Officer Tina Chen.
Her third one that day.
Excessive doesn’t quite do it justice, although you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little envious.
“Do you want one of them?” she asks without a hint of malice in her voice. Tina isn’t the gloating type, and you know her well enough to tell that she’s dead serious.
You shake your head, a fond smile on your lips. “Nah. I don’t need your pity.”
“Hey, you still have the whole day to find a date! I hear Gavin’s avail—“
“Nope,” you cut her off. “Don’t even start.”
“I’m just saying you have options.”
“Gavin Reed doesn’t count as an option.” And with that firm response, you push the cart of precariously balanced Valentine presents forward.
Tina chuckles at your retreating back, silently mourning Gavin and any chances he assumes he has with you.
::
You don’t know how you end up in charge of passing out the mail that day—a security issue, you think it was—but somehow your name got thrown in the mix and now you’re handing out bouquets and chocolates left and right without any hope of receiving any yourself.
You don’t normally mind being single on Valentine’s Day, but then again, you don’t normally have to hand-deliver Valentines to others who are very much in love and in relationships.
A pleasant voice announces that you’ve reached the fourth floor and you step out of the elevator with a sigh, pushing the cart with slumped shoulders.
You often find yourself in the SWAT department for various reasons—mainly paperwork—so you don’t have to waste too much time asking around for names.
You’re met with satisfied grins when you unceremoniously place the presents in front of the recipients. They offer you distracted ‘thank you’s, as they rip the attached cards open and you only nod.
Halfway through your deliveries, you hear someone having a sneezing fit nearby and you wince, turning around with apologies already spewing from your lips.
It comes as a bit of a surprise to see the normally rough and tough Captain Allen sneezing away into his elbow.
You can’t help but stare.
Allen’s always come off as untouchable, immortal even, in a way. Nothing fazes him and more importantly, nothing ever slows him down.
Except his apparent pollen allergy, it seems.
When he’s done, he lifts his face from his elbow and you almost laugh at his red nose and grumpy expression. He sees your poorly-contained amusement and raises an eyebrow in challenge.
“Something funny?” he barks as you duck into the break room to grab him a box of tissues. Grinning, you return to him, abandoning the cart with the offending flowers, and hold out the box for him to take.
He does so with a gruff “thanks,” and something about the way he turns around and blows his nose has your chest constricting in a pleasant yet terrifying way.
Damn Allen and his gorgeous blue eyes...
You sigh a little, shaking your head.
Nope.
Unattainable, you remind yourself. He probably has a gorgeous date—if not multiple—lined up for tonight. He may not have received any Valentines, but you don’t doubt he’s the one sending them out. Allen strikes you as a secret romantic, somehow, which may or may not be due to your not-so-subtle crush on him.
Not that it matters since, you know, he’s not fucking interested.
“Better stay in your office, Cap, ‘cause I have a few more to get through,” you warn him, motioning to your still-crowded cart. He eyes the bouquets of red and pink flowers distastefully before turning to you with a calculating look.
“Any of those for you?”
You scoff. “Fuck no. Nobody wants me.”
Your bluntness and self-deprecating jab render him speechless for a second. Just as you open your mouth to excuse yourself, he lets out a tired sigh.
“I do,” he admits almost angrily, scratching the back of his head as he averts your eyes, which have gone wide at his words. Your mouth drops open as you process what he’s just said, but he doesn’t give you much time to brood, quickly asking, “So dinner at seven?”
“Okay,” you reply immediately, your mouth moving on its own. There’s really no room to dwell on the fact that Captain Allen has just asked you out on Valentine’s Day because the man is already walking away, leaving you standing there in the middle of the SWAT department with an empty box of tissues loosely in your hand.
::
‘Dinner at seven’ turns out to be a bust, and it’s not because Allen stood you up, something you fully expected him to do.
No, it turns out that you’re not the only one with impulsive tendencies.
“They’re all fucking booked,” Allen announces with a groan as he climbs into the car. He slams the door shut a little more forcefully than intended and you reach over to rub his shoulder in consolation, flushing slightly when he turns to you and smiles.
“I thought you had this planned out,” you tease him and he snorts.
“Not this time.”
“Well,” you begin nervously, not really seeing any other choice, “we can always just ... have a quiet dinner at home?”
He blinks in surprise as if the idea’s never crossed his mind before shrugging. “Sure. Your place or mine?”
You’ve, uh, definitely never fantasized about Allen asking you that particular question. Not once. No sirree.
Licking your dry lips, you only offer him a weak smile. “Your call.”
And that’s exactly how you end up on David’s Allen couch on the eve of Valentine’s Day. You nervously flip through channels while you wait for him to emerge from the bathroom, but you’re too frazzled to really pay attention to what’s on screen. In the end, you opt for one of the cheesy romance flicks from the early 20’s while you silently meditate and try to soothe your heart.
It’s just dinner, you remind yourself for the umpteenth time that evening, hoping that would be enough to calm your nerves. It doesn’t really work because you remember that a lot can happen after dinner, especially with Allen’s bedroom only a few feet away and—
Great. Now you’re thinking about his bed.
You’re so buried in your thoughts that the sound of the door opening causes you to jump in surprise. You’re pretty sure Allen notices this because you hear him chuckle from behind you.
“You alright?” he questions, genuinely concerned. He’s mindful to give you some space on the couch, sitting on the opposite end. Truthfully, that only frustrates you because the last thing you want tonight is space.
“I’m fine,” you reply firmly, boldly scooting closer to him. He raises an eyebrow when your fingers accidentally brush his thigh, and before you can apologize, he calmly places his hand over yours and your breath hitches.
“What do you want for dinner?” His voice sounds much closer this time but maybe you’re just lightheaded from all...this. Whatever this even is.
You shrug. You don’t know and you don’t care, not when he’s so close, close enough that you can see every faded scar on his rugged face, can count every eyelash and freckle...
You’re not sure who closes the distance—you think it’s you but you swear he shifted towards you, too—but the next thing you know, Allen’s lips are on yours and your fingers are in his hair. His arms snake around your waist, and his hands rest on your bottom before sliding to your thighs and coaxing you into his lap.
You straddle him, breaking the kiss only briefly as you change positions. When you see the smirk on his face, you huff and surge back in, capturing his lips once again.
He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip and you open your mouth to grant him access. Groaning against your lips, he languidly pushes you backwards and you find yourself staring at the ceiling as Allen crawls on top of you.
Feeling much more confident now that you’ve sampled his lips, you reach over and attempt to tug his shirt over his head.
And that’s when he pulls away.
“Fuck,” he mutters, jumping to his feet. He rubs a hand down his face while you blink up at him in confusion.
You watch as he paces the living room, all the while trying to hide the undeniable bulge in his jeans, and abruptly, the weight of your actions hits you and your face burns in shame.
“I’m so sorry, Dave,” you apologize in embarrassment as you sit up, staring anywhere except him. “I didn’t—it’s just—“
“Don’t apologize,” Allen half-laughs, half-sighs. He runs a hand through his hair when he sees your guilty expression and quickly joins you on the couch again.
“I should go,” you mutter pathetically, fully prepared to dig a hole under your bed and crawl into it for the next hundred years. Allen, however, has other ideas.
He kisses you again, gentler this time. Before you can fully lose yourself to his touch, he pulls away.
“Don’t go.”
“But you—”
“Sweetheart,” he rumbles in that gravelly voice of his that leaves you lightheaded and wanting more, “as much as I’d like to keep going, I don’t want to rush into things just yet.”
“Wh-why not?”
“I want to do things right,” he admits almost bashfully. You tilt your head, and he takes this as a sign to elaborate. “I want... I want you to take this seriously.”
“Who says I won’t?” you point out, doing your best to ignore the continuous thrum of your heartbeat in your ears.
Allen looks at you almost helplessly and it hits you that even the toughest, bravest in the police force can have their moments of doubt. You smile gently at him and cup the side of his face.
“Let’s do this right then.” And with that, you take his hand and drag him to the kitchen to start preparing the Valentine’s Day dinner that he had impulsively asked you to in the midst of a sneezing fit.
#captain allen x reader#captain allen#captain allen dbh#daddy allen#daddy allen unit#obligatory valentines day fic#which tells yall p much how my valentines day went lmao#honestly im here for the discounted candy at target wassup#i wrote this in one sitting ahhh i hate myself#will edit later#maybe
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Uncool. University AU, Queen fan fiction. (John Deacon x Tomboy!Reader)
For now, it can be read as a one-shot—as it was originally intended. If someone is interested in this to continue, please let me know! 😊😊
Warning: Cursing, fluff, a bit slow burn?
+ ———— - ———— + ———— - ———— + ———— - ———— + ———— -
It's a fantastic drowse in the afternoon Sunday. Nothing beats hanging out with your friends, smoking, eating pizzas, and tuning to some heavy metal and rocks on the college parking lot; especially, after your midterm exam. It’s not much of being glad the torturing is over, more of you know you nail the exam after studying hard, like the usual. Feels awesome still. But just hanging out isn’t the reason you all here. There’ll be more headbanging later tonight, one of the local metal band is coming to shake the building; whilst waiting, you and your gang are enjoying the quality and fun times together.
“Yo, y/n!”
One of your male classmates came, bringing more foods and forcing three people you don’t know to carry it when both his hands are free.
“How’s it, Dave?” You return the greetings with a handshake and hug. “Care to introduce your new mates?”
Dave points at a girl with long brown hair and purple streaks. She wears black leather spiked jacket atop of her purple tank, complementing her style with tight leather pants and black ankle boots. She also wears thick makeup that makes her face says "fuck you" to anyone it greets. You like her already.
“Jess Gun, call her G. Music student. Jess, this is y/n, our top dog. Mech like most of us.”
“Take a piss, Dave.” But you still take the compliment as you give G a warm handshake.
“How’s it, y/n.”
Then Dave points at a tall and large man. The man proudly showed off his brand new tan, covered in tonnes of tattoos by wearing only thin black sleeveless graphic metal band tee. The common theme of the night; leather pants and black ankle boots. But he’s much more complete with spiked armbands, bracelet, and chain necklace.
“This is Charles C. C stands for Colossal.”
Not surprising that C carried the most out of their raids, so you stopped him when he tries to pass it somewhere or to someone just so he can give you a handshake. Dave tap C’s shoulder, told him to move, uncovering the next new dog for the pack. Someone you didn’t quite expect to look for tonight’s occasion.
“This is John Deacon, Mr D. Ace of the electrics.”
“Just call me, John.” Say the man calmly with a much softer voice. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too…” You return, quite astounded by his symmetrical, handsome, princely features.
For some passerby, it might look like Dave bullies John and force him to carry around his things. And that might be correct, John stands out the most in your group; with his plaid brown shirt, light blue jeans, and a black tight vest. His kind, friendly downturned eyes don’t help either. Feels like looking down at a small puppy as a big black alpha. But lo and behold, he’s also into some deafening and blaring as his past time. Wait, is he?
“Big fan of the Devil’s Fork?” You ask him a bit later after the foods he’s carrying was savaged by your friends.
“Haven’t heard them yet, so I’m not sure. What do you think?”
What begins as your attempt to unfold a bit of mystery surrounding him and following your weird instinct to protect the poor puppy; ends with you blabbering about your obsession over the band—their unique harmonies, intense riffs, and sick styles. You even just noticed that despite his looks that perfectly fit how Dave describes him, he joins you as you power through your Marlboro, leaving nothing for the night. And that was your last pack too.
“Mind continuing whilst we walk to store?” You ask him as you check for your funds. Enough for another pack.
“Okay.”
Nope. The band black van that's showing off their logo on the sides—a small gremlin-like devil holding an oversized red flamming fork in exaggerated art style,—just parked right next to your pick-up truck.
“Well, that’s unlucky.”
“I will run and buy a pack before the gig starts if you’d like.” He says, somehow a bit guilty.
“Nah, mate, I will collect these peasants’ tax. Getting us more of a selection till morning.”
“It's okay. I’m good for today.” He smiles.
From behind him, Dave slaps his shoulder and practically shake the man; he yelped in a very high pitch voice, almost make you burst out laughing. You didn't blame him when he hit Dave's shoulder in return.
“D warmed up to ya’ quick, y/n. As expected.” Dave let out a hearty laugh. “Not many can do that to him. Or maybe that’s because you two are our top rank dweller? Can finally speak in your higher-intelligent language?”
You jokingly kick Dave away and he joins, pretending to be running away from his life, as John—and some that overhear Dave’s remark—laugh at your shenanigan. You hope John didn’t notice you staring at him; amidst the chaos that is Dave munching some arse-whooping from you. You savoured his shockingly cute laugh and face. No. You wish it was forever, so you can admire him to your heart content…
Well, crap.
You just met and you’re crushing hard on him already?
Wouldn't be the first time.
It won’t last long like the others. You assure yourself, tangling your arm on his shoulder as if you’re his old friend. Understanding boundaries and someone else personal space were not one of your strong suits; you get in a whole lot of problems that turn things awkward, but you’ll exploit that fact to get even closer to John.
“But, Dave’s right. You’re gonna have fun with us. And with me, mate.” You say, confidently.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
When you think it’s not possible for a man to be any more charming and stunning, he proved you wrong by just smiling a bit wider.
“I will personally guarantee it.”
***
“Fuck my life.” You sighed after Deacy left your home. You practically let your body fall on the couch as you put your palm on your chest. “What the fuck is going on with me…”
It has been several months since you have attended the best college gig. The same day Dave introduces you to John. You did promise to give John a good time—and it’s a hell of a good time for you and your friends as well. Even John tell you to call him Deacy—or Deaky? He never wrote it down,—the privilege that was only given to you. That might also the reason why your crush now develops into actual feelings.
“Absolutely. Not because he comes here almost every day. All studying together, rocking to music, the fact he makes cool riffs, shred his guitar, and even taught me how to play them…”
You talked to yourself in an attempt to calm down. It works. Partially. You scratch your head furiously and rolled about. Angry that you knew you catch the feelings, but mind goes on thinking it was not a big deal, that it’ll soon be gone. Only when you fall down the couch face first, your decision was made; you will be upfront about it, you will show him your interest. Then, when he returns them warmly, you will do a sneak attack, and ask him to be your boyfriend! Perfect! Maybe then you’ll figure out your feelings more?
“Fuck the tradition.” You exclaimed as you get up. “Says who I can’t woo and pamper my man?”
And so you did. At first, it was very subtle; longer physical contact, purposeful stare, spending more time with him, wearing things he likes, giving him gifts that he likes, listening to even the most curious of his nonsense when he’s drunk. Then it escalates slowly but surely, you have constructed a plan to ask him out to places he likes; arcades, music shop, buy him movies ticket, buy him tickets to concerts. You never fail the dates. And of course, you’re getting even bolder to the point that hugs that used to make your body numb, head empty, heart pounding, feels much too normal now. Occasional holding hands after college or hanging out. Cuddling when watching movies at your house, in front of your friends, even.
But what about him? How does he react? Is it warm enough yet for you to ask him out? You can’t tell. There might be a slight change, but you really can’t see it. It’s always you that initiate physical contacts, even for just a hug. He asks you out to hang, but never to his house, or even special places; just for shopping, to cafes, arcades, library, something very casual. Almost every dates now you try to kiss him, and every time too, somehow, he deflected it as if you purposely closing your eyes and get your face close to him with your award-winning kissy face was just an accident.
“That happens by the end of every date!” You mutter to yourself, burying your face in your palms. “What the hell did I do wrong? Don’t make it clear enough? What do you think, G?”
G stares at you whilst chewing on her gum and smoke at the same time. Now it’s almost on every date too that you drag G and told her your tales of woe. Although you’re paying for her foods, you can clearly see that it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s fed up and well-fed—apparently, she gained a lot of weight because of you.
“Fucking tell him you love him.” Her words came out like venom. “Ask him to be your boyfriend. Stop being a fucking pussy about it. Don’t come to me again if you didn’t do what I said when he’s dating someone else.”
She’s right, you think. Either Deacy is extremely stupid—unlikely for an honour student that beats the crap out of you score wise, or you were never one of the options he wants and simply think your shameless boldness was because you are in fact have zero sense of personal space, and getting used to it fast. Or maybe you're the one that's a wee bit dumber than you thought about not being able to read the atmosphere well most of the times? No other choice but to find out which answer it is.
You’re trying hard to gather your courage, but now you’re still stuck, trying to solve other mysteries instead. As he stares at you, sitting on the other side of the table, eating a giant pile of expensive ice cream quite seriously. Waiting.
You asked him out to an ice cream cafe a week after your date with G, and G said when someone is happy, they tend to give more positive feedbacks, reactions, whatever; because you use that trick and charm her to fatten herself up. It most likely works on him too. Of course, it will be like normal hangout after class, you never miss a day when taking him to places, even if they might be just a small store. It’ll be a hundred per cent chance that he thought today will be normal like thousandth days before. The surprise factor might contribute.
Excellent.
But you’re running out of time; Deacy is powering through the ice cream like it was nothing. If you keep on failing, he might end up like G. Not that it'll affect your feelings towards him.
You took a deep breath.
“Deacy.”
“Yes?”
And there it goes all the courage you have collected for the past ten minutes. Shattered completely as he stopped the scooping mid-way to his mouth.
“See. That’s what happens when you let cats get into your mind. When your guard is lowered, thinking they’re just small creatures that can do you no harm; they took the chance and get your tongue.” He says, then continues eating.
“I am sorry, good sir. But I am willingly and consciously serve my tongue for their enjoyment. Speaks nothing but praise. And they’re very pleased, so they return it.”
He gave out a very monotone gasp.
“They’ve got my best friend under their control. I must go on a journey to find the materials so I can create the machine to reverse the effect of their alien-like ability.”
“She’s your best friend? How sweet, oh, puny mortal. But there’ll be a legion of our army that’ll stop you. By the time your machine is done, she’ll forever be gone. Nothing and no one can save her.”
"A hero will never give up. With the power of friendship, love, and bravery, I will not let anything stops me."
Usually, the odd banter lasts longer and gets weirder by the minutes, to the point that both of you forgot of what you two are previously doing or talking. But this time it doesn't work. What you expected was that you'll just magically drop the L-bomb in between the exchange. Instead, that thought makes you aware of the possibility and suddenly words were lost.
"Y/n? You okay?"
"Yeah. Things get progressively harder to overcome."
"Our made up stories, exam, or something else?"
"Something else."
"What is it?"
You're extremely frustrated by how easy it is to continue talking when it’s just jokes or normal trivial conversations. But when it comes to serious business, you suddenly have no power to speak...
Then you get an idea.
"I got a joke. Knock knock."
"Okay? Who's there?"
"Will you."
"Will you who?"
"Will you be my boyf—."
"There you are! Always leaving us with the dust! Not this time, mate!"
After the initial shock that quite visibly makes you—and Deacy—jumped, you immediately throw your spoons at Dave and his friends that suddenly came. Pouting and fidgeting in your seat in silent anger as they approach you.
“How’s it, mate?”
“Shove those spoons right up your arse!”
It makes you even angrier that no one seems to care about why you’re very angry being disturbed. Not even Deacy himself, as he joins the others and laughs at you and Dave’s yet another antic when you keep hitting him as he tries to sit next to you. You ended up sitting next to Deacy after kicking the other boys that previously sat there.
“That’s his fucking food. I paid it specifically only for him. Shoo!” You yell again at some of the boys that try to put their spoon in Deacy’s ice cream. Slapping them like flies. “The waitress is coming back, buy your own!”
“It’s okay. Do you want some too, y/n? You did pay for it.”
It’s pretty clear that Dave can’t stop staring at the both of you when Deacy keeps on feeding you ice cream before you can even say yes or no. There’s something in the metalhead's eyes that makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. Though you did feel a little bad, he’s used to be the one that receives your attention the most, now you can’t even remember the last time both of you hang in a college gig.
“How long have you two been dating?” Dave asked, almost makes you jump in a surprise.
Deacy answered in lightning. “No no no. We’re not dating. I’m not sure we fit each other. I think I only pair with shy girls...”
There’s a sharp pain in your chest when you hear that. You stare at Deacy that’s not even giving you a side-glance after hearing such question. Does he even think about your relationship at all? It’s not even one year, wouldn’t that makes him question why you seem to not only clingy and protective of him, but also very forward? Or does he thinks that’s just how you really are?
“Not the first time you’re rejected like that huh.” Dave jokes.
“Go fuck yourself, David.”
You try your best to repress people’s laugh when they still think this is just the usual friend-insulting-friend jeer. But when you didn't join, the sounds quickly dies down, replaced with conversation and the sound of clanking. You want to change seat so bad; being too close with Deacy right now is very uncomfortable, after he straight up rejecting—well, softly saying he’s not into you. Eventually, you let the pang of pain in your heart submerged by the busy sounds of people talking, spoons clinking, and bustling streets as you play with your freshly ordered strawberry cheesecake. Never really a fan of sweet stuff, you think.
But I need it. Hell of a rejection.
One spoonful almost makes you cringe, but you chew them anyway, enjoying the sweetness in the now duller ambience. Has it always been this orange-ish brown in this cafe? Huh, this is the first time you noticed how warm this place feels. Maybe that’s why both you and Deacy always the frequent here. Whenever you are here with him, it’s always fun. Would it stay the same once your feeling is gone?
This one will go away too. Not the first time.
You hope it’ll be fast this time. Just another heartbreak. Not a big deal. You’ll move on, and Deacy will be like Dave, one of the lads that reject you from being a tad too tomboyish for their taste. You wonder will the next love ended up the same? You hope not.
***
“You look like shit.”
“No shit, mate.”
The gal just cut her hair short and now fully coloured it purple, as per your suggestion, and she looks great. C also think so and accepted G’s confession. You’re happy for them. Very happy. And wish that it’s just happy, and not incredibly envious feelings about her moving on fast from being rejected by Dave. Because of your misery from last rejection, that’s far before G is forcing you to start hooking her up with Dave. And right now G is about to celebrate her four months relationship with C.
That’s also why you are here. To cover G’s shift in the electronic shop G hook you in. As thanks for helping you get a job when you quit the car repair shop right after you see John flirts with one of the regular customer’s daughter. Cute girl, a wee bit younger, long blonde hair and blue eyes, always wear a bright coloured dress. Well, you have to admit, she’s very gorgeous. And one more thing; she does look like a perfect fit for Deacy. But that’s not what makes you immediately call the manager and formed your magnificent bullshit reason to quit. It was when she calls him Deacy.
“Hello?” G snapped her fingers again in front of you.
“What?”
“I’m going? But now I’m not sure that I should, with you like that taking care of the shop. You’re already on your second warning, y/n. Are you really okay if I leave?”
“Go on ahead, mate. C’s waiting.” You push her out the door. “I will be fine, it was just a couple hours. Worse case I will be zapped dead repairing Mrs Carla’s TV. Have fun!”
You purposely laugh out loud to make sure she buys your bullshit and didn’t stop until she’s out of the shop’s front. You slumped down a chair near the cashier and starts flipping the magazine you just bought; hopefully, it can kill the bore and the sadness. Alas, you bought a guitar magazine, and all you can think is now John. He invades your mind like he owns the place, jumped on the couch and start ordering you to listen on how important he is to your heart and soul. How you’re a queen that sits on a throne of liar for denying the truth that you missed him so much. This is the first time this happens. It was never like this, even with Dave—and you meet the dude almost everyday afterwards,—you moved on from him quick as lightning. But why? Why with Deacy—John?
What the fuck is going on with me?
It’s the same question you asked when you first realised how deep you have fallen for him. And then he rejected you softly, you try to drift a bit apart from him so you can move on and swoon on someone else. A cooler dude, perhaps, that’s just as cute, and as awesome as John when he shreds his guitar. But that never happened. You keep on staring at John and only John. His laugh always makes your heart warmer. A simple gesture like when he asks you out and helps you carry your project to the cafe. It’s not only the good, but the bad part also happens; you’re now very much aware when John uses his softer tone whilst talking to another girl, or how kind he is with them. He might just be friends with them, but it pains you so much to see it. Then you start making more distance, hanging more with your old pack. But then the arsehole Dave says that he saw John hang with this one particularly pretty redhead from another college.
“She’s all shy and cute. They look like a real couple, you know. But when you and D’s hang, you look like you’re bullying him.”
“Piss off, Dave.”
And that might be true. You always force yourself on him. Drags him places. What if all this time he’s saying yes not because he likes spending time with you? That he just doesn’t want to hurt you if he says no? You did say you are bad at reading people and knowing what the hell is going on sometimes. It is almost a year you slowly stopped hanging with John, and not once did John approach you, nor did many—which is a lot—of your mutuals mention John’s looking for you. Even worse, the one time they mention John, it’ll always be about him having a new girl holding hands with him. Maybe all this time you are just delusional?
Even so, you have tried your darndest to forget about him since his rejection. You tell your friends about your sadness—G, mostly, poor her—it doesn’t work. You try to pour it in form of letters and later burn them. As the fire is ablaze, so is your love towards him, so that also doesn’t work. C suggest you to make it into a poem, he said it helps him, he even sang them in gigs and people loves it. And you do it—not the sing in front of people part, just the poem. It’s still a fruitless effort. And your score took the brunt of it. You have been nothing but stressed, even more so knowing the final exam is near. You haven’t been studying.
“Good work today.” Say your coworker. “You know, if you’re sick, you should just tell Gun you can’t cover her shift.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been on autopilot.” Yet another bullshit excuse. “Exam, you know. But I will manage. Thanks for worrying about me.”
“I don’t. But getting you fired when we have many stuff still needs fixing is like shooting oneself in the foot.”
“Aw, geez, May, I’m fine! Don’t kill yourself worried like that!” You slap the lanky man’s shoulder. Damn, he’s tall. “If you keep it up like that, I might fall for you, and that might be a problem.”
“How so?” He challenges.
“One man making me miserable is enough. I can’t have you rejecting me as well. This lady only has one heart after all.”
He fell silent. Whoops, your jokes might go too far, or he simply couldn’t care less. But as you grab your jacket and get ready to be sorrowful again on your way home, May joins you.
“Going to the store?” He asks awkwardly. “You know, all that smokes will kill you someday.”
“It can’t come any sooner.” You joke again as you puff one. “I mean, sure, if you meant by the store is my house as well, you’re very much welcome, mate. Need some witness for my pity party.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, y/l/n. Don’t just give up on love just because of several guys happens to see less agressi—more composed girls.”
“Hah. At least you admit they're not up for the adventure. You’re right, they’re missing out big time; when I am committed to someone, I will love them with the entirety of it. But well, maybe that’s why I’m so bloody depressed right now.”
He looked at you softly. His hands are twitching, but then he put it in his pockets.
“You’ll find there are many men in your life that’s close to you, and the right one for you might just be around the corner.”
“He can’t come any sooner.”
The walk is a bit uneventful from that onwards, just a bit of conversation. You thought he was just bitter and hates fun—the way G describes him, but he’s cool. He knows a couple of good rock and metal bands, attended some, in fact, which makes you a bit curious whether you have met him before or not. Although you thank Brian May for making you forget about John even just for a bit by promising to buy him tea one day and in the end he tells you good luck on your exam. And, hmm, he's a bit cute? And you particularly like his kinky hair.
But as you arrive home, in an instant, your head and heart instantly switches back on thinking and feeling your love for John. The room is cold and empty. How you wish, somehow, John was here, waiting for you as he makes you both teas. Last year, today will be a horror movie night. You’ll play the guitar together, or some scribble, or heck, you’re close with final exam, both of you would most likely studying right now. You will bring home cheesecake from keeping him waiting.
And I did.
It is just a an empty wish for him will be here as impossible it is. But you still bought home two cheesecakes when you can’t even finish one. It was one of his favourite food. It’s too sweet for you, but you will gladly eat one with him. Now what should you do with two cheesecake? Call Dave to come? He used to be in John’s place after all, but it was a very long time ago. May? Even for someone as shamelessly bold as you, you know that’s a bad idea. Or maybe not?
But why? Why can’t I just be alone?
Because you know why, yet you dare not admit how much you miss John. How much you love him. Tears start welling up on your eyes. You know why you can’t forget about him; all the smallest hints that reminded you of him is everywhere. Cheesecakes, cafes, electronics, your house, horror movies, studying... And the acoustic guitar that you bought specifically so he can teach you how to play it, the more excuse for you to invite him to your house. Without you even realised, you grab the guitar and you sit on the terrace. Then you sing. Sing to your heart content. You don’t care how ear wrenching it is to listen to your own voice that breaks everywhere, and not to mention false. But you keep on singing and strumming the guitar with the only notes you’ve learnt. You wish to scream to your heart content.
I have suffered, but the love stays. If I can’t forget, then please, please, allow me to cherish my dreams. For without it I might die. For without it, for without him; I have no more reason to live.
“Please... I still love him... I missed him... I—.”
You are wide-eyed when you see a dark figure standing on the street, facing you. Maybe it’s just someone a bit disturbed and/or petrified by your awful symphony. But, no. It has to be him. Just as wide-eyed as you. Perhaps he has been that way? Or maybe you both spooked each other? Has he been there the whole time? Watching your dramatic blue moment; the snots and tears, voice cracks, and shit guitar skill?
Fantastic. He’s head over heels from the sight.
You wiped your tears with your t-shirt as you put down the guitar. The man is still there, and so you approach him, pretended nothing happened. You always know how to deflect with jokes, so you’re confident.
“O-oh, hi, John. What you got there?”
Not so confident... As you get closer, you can see his appearance clearer; even more handsome than the one in your mind. He wears that particular worn out button up shirt that you bought him as his birthday present long ago, the same dark blue jeans he wore the night you two met, and his school bag. But what caused you to ask is the same carton bag you get when you bought the two cheesecakes just now.
“How’s it?” You ask again, find it a bit rude not asking it after a long time no see. But you say it as you reach the carton bag. He pulled it away slightly from your hand.
“I’m... Good. How are you? Are you alright?”
“Where have you been, D? Don’t get a final exam in your college? Lucky.”
“Ah, every engineering students’ wet dream.” He joins. “It wouldn’t be counted as lucky. My college is on the planet Mercury.”
“Shame. I could not wish more than for your college to give you lots of exams once you get back. But, surely you have seen me. Undoubtedly, a human like me can’t resist the fiery passion, just like everyone else, when it comes to the final exam.”
“I don’t think it’ll be much of a blazing flame for the two of us.” He says as he hides the carton bag behind his back, forcing you to face him.
“Oh, absolutely not! Who ugly cries and screamed like a dying cat that actually is fine from the inside? They do. But certainly not me, excuse me for doing it ironically. How about you, fine sir?” You raised your hands in frustration and also to add to your dramatic statement, at the same time, distancing yourself away from him. Your heart is pounding like mad being that close.
“What happened, y/n? Are you really okay? I haven’t seen you for so long, it’s very worrying.”
“Oh, it’s a perfectly adequate! I have a crush on you, it turned serious. Ask you out, invade your personal space. Turns out I’m not your type. You know, blah blah blah, the common gossip. Now, what you got there? Cake? If it’s not for someone else, might I have it? To be honest, I am very hungry.”
There’s a small victory noise you make when you catch the bag and stole it from him. But as you check what’s inside, you take a peek at him only to find him covering his mouth with his hand; his face is bright red, eyes smiling, and eyebrows sky-high on his forehead. You feel as if your entire being is a firework, blasting through the air and exploding in bright colours when you realise why he’s like that.
“E-exam fried your brain, mate. Your sarcasm detector is rusty.” You say, try not to be too happy; you might be wrong.
“Most definitely. And I will just let you insult your way out of your own fake confession, you know, like a cunt that I am. To keep deflecting your obvious and incredible attempt at seducing a man. Thinking I was too uncool to be your boyfriend. You’re right, just another common fucking gossip.”
Now, you’re actually blasting off. You jumped in surprise when he yells that. He never yelled at you; hell, you never hear him raise his voice, even though he curses a lot too sometimes. But this time he full-blown raise his voice to almost the screaming level, especially when the colour of his face could match a ripe tomato, showing a very visible sign that he’s angry you still can joke about it. About your feelings.
But no words were uttered after that; you’re a silent statue, cheeks red, eyes wide, mouth’s open. Whilst he twiddles about, walking, trying to find something as he covers his mouth still, calming himself down. Hoping there’s a shovel he could use to dig himself a grave. Both of your heart is about to detonate, but you’re used to it at this point.
“Mate, if you’re not serious, know there’ll be consequences. And you wouldn’t like it.” You say with gritted teeth; from holding back your almost spilt feelings of joy.
He takes a quick step towards you, it’s also very clear he’s holding back his smile. He retorts out of habit; “what sort of punishment awaits me if I’m guilty your honour?”
In an instant, you grab his hips and get you body practically touches his; feeling his chest raise and fall, and his heart that’s beating also has hard as yours. You screamed in your mind for not thinking, and now you feel like passing out from the blood that’s rushing to your head.
“I will crush you and kill you with my love, and hugs, and kisses, and cuddles—everything. Don’t make me buy us engagement rings. So, until you plead guilty; that you are absolutely serious.”
John can no longer hold his smile. His eyes’ basically twinkling stars. Cheeks pinkier than the electronic store’s neon sign.
“Then I plead guilty.”
He cupped your cheeks and pushes his lips on yours. You closed your eyes, savouring the sweet taste of his mouth—it taste like cheesecake! He ate one before you that bastard! You punishes him by not letting him let go to breath. After couple more seconds that you wish were forever, you finally part lips.
“You are a demon!” He exclaimed, voice breaking as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. But he’s smiling wide.
“Oh you have no idea, and in fact, I could show you more if you’d like?” You say cheekily as you encircle him like a hungry shark.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“I will personally guarantee it.”
And you both smiled as your hand's links.
End (?).
+ ———— - ———— + ———— - ———— + ———— - ———— + ———— -
Omfg, it’s been long time since I write a reader-insert fan fiction, so writing this kinda makes me blush, especially at the end 😳😳😳😵😵
I really hope you enjoy it! There’s a big potential for this particular Tomboy!Reader’s story to be broadened into a serial, although I’m not sure if I can do it now since I have to study for final exam. But if anyone want to know about it, please let me know! 😉
One more thing! Feel free to request imagines or one-shots! :D
#Queen Fan Fiction#Queen Band Fan Fiction#John Deacon x Reader#Deacy x Reader#Deaky x Reader#John Deacon#john richard deacon#Queen#Queen Band#Bohemian Rhapsody#Bohemian Rhapsody Movie#Borhap#Bohrhap#Brian May#Brian Harold May#Joe Mazzello#Gwilym Lee#Deaky#Deacy#John Deacon x Tomboy!Reader#Tomboy!Reader
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Companionship Through Circuitry Ch. 2: Radiation Blues
Bro/Hal
This chapter can be found on my AO3!
This chapter is SFW
cw: vomit
Not everywhere is safe to sleep, and warnings shouldn't be ignored. Even if they come from pretentious sounding AI.
What are you doing.
"I'm writin' to my kid, mind your own business."
My God in Heaven save us all, you've procreated.
"Yeah, and my spawn's the raddest thing in the world, what about it. Mind your own business, I'm already smudgin' the shit out of this," Bro muttered, writing against his thigh on layered paper carefully as he could. Being a lefty was suffering sometimes, even if he tried his damndest to write neatly.
There were probably better ways to go about doing this, better times or places, but something about camp that night felt safe and secure, and it was about time for another letter to get written and sent out to check in and let him know what was up. So there he sat by his fire curled up with the paper on his thigh, detailing to Dave what he’d been up to and the newfound.. Friend? Follower? Companion?
The new sunglasses he got that happened to be sarcastic as shit.
If you don't want me to be observing, you should do something sensible. Like take me off your fucking face.
"That'd be too easy. Be a good little bot and hush now."
I am an AI, not a 'good little bot'. Don't be condescending to me.
"I'm sorry I hurt all two of your pre-programmed feelings but seriously, shut your trap for a second and let me write or I'll forget some shit," Bro complained, "I'm leavin' you on because I don't wanna wind up entirely blind to the dark outside the lit up area."
Sleeping would be good tonight. Not only was it safe enough for a little bit of fire by his judgement and with plenty of air to avoid problems from smoke, but there was more than enough room to stretch out and relax. He wouldn't be crammed into a corner or sleeping sitting up tonight, oh no. He'd be fully fed, warm, comfortably dry and sprawled out on a bedroll like he owned the damn place. Buildings without roofs were pretty rad sometimes, bless concrete and brick, bless the steel beams that supported the tall bitches, they made his heart beat.
I should probably warn you since you’re insisting on staying: you are exposed here.
"You said that earlier and I’m tellin’ you: I'm not that exposed. You've been out here what, a day? And tested pre-war. I've been out here forty odd years, let the master take a load off. I'll sleep well tonight'n clear out by dawn. The stairs are shitty and I took my board with me. There's fire between the stairs'n me, I can tuck duck'n roll if I gotta beat feet out the window to the dumpster.. Shit's fine."
That is not what I meant. I'm saying you're exposed to a lot of things here.
"Yeah, we've established that you're wron- ah motherfuck look what you made me do," he sighed, pen leaving a blob of ink in the center of a word he’d paused too long on. Shoddily made hunk of junk. Modern pens could never hold a candle to the sturdy as hell pre-war ones with their pressurized, ever ready gel ink.
Your health is at risk.
Bro let out a steady breath from his nose in irritation, finished writing his sentence by crooking his hand in an awkward claw to avoid the wet spot, and then fanned the paper in the air to dry the ink splotch faster so it wouldn't transfer between pages and locations when he folded it for sending later. Or adding on to, if anything interesting happened between now and the next time he saw someone willing to courier or pass along to a courier for him and a normal delivery fee.
"My health is absolutely fine. I get you’re pre-war and used to the regulations’n shit they required but this is different. ..Look, if you're that concerned just wake me up before bad shit happens to me. You don't need sleep, do you? Just a charge when your inner batteries get low or the onboard rechargin' system gets borked, the rest of the time you're doin' your own thing," Bro guessed. "Just siren me awake before I get nibbled on if you're so concerned about my bein' asleep up here. I'm a light sleeper."
The target t's in front of his eyes turned in a slow loading circle several times before he heard the confirmation chime once again near his ear.
Duly noted. Enjoy writing to your spawn, Bro.
"Was that so hard?" he asked, blowing on the ink for another moment before touching the splotch with a fingertip and finding it dry. Carefully he folded the letter up and tucked it into his bag with the traitor pen in its security cap beside it, then settled down on his sleeping roll with a heady sigh. Finally: off his feet, fully stretched out.. It'd be better to be on a mattress, he'd taken that for granted over the years, but hey this was still pretty sweet. Soft enough to relax on.. soft enough to sleep on..
His eyes grew heavy as he watched the fire crackle and pop now and then, hands folded over his pleasantly full stomach. Within minutes he was out cold, softly snoring with the glasses perched on his face and AR finally quiet. The unnaturally clear sky stretched out overhead and the ever moving wasteland felt like it stood still peacefully for once, just for a little while.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Ambrose could hear a sharp, electronic whine as if it were coming from under water. No matter how far or how close he got to it the whine stayed the same pitch, annoying and gnat like. There didn’t seem to be any escape, no way to silence it, not even any way to interact with it since he couldn’t lay eyes on it. Whatever it was pulsed a few times before going louder, making his ears ache and his head feel like it wanted to split. He was sure of one thing: once he got his hands on whatever was making that god awful sound, he was going to put his sword through it and beat it into the dirt till it rested in a million tiny pieces.
He grimaced and finally opened his eyes, staring up at the dark sky of pre-dawn, flickers of unchanging stars and the distant glimmer of what was probably either space junk giving up the ghost and crashing somewhere into the atmosphere or a run of the mill shooting star. This was a beautiful way to wake up aside from the sound pulsing in front of his ears from AR who promptly shut it off as soon as he was conscious, giving him a moment of head pounding reprieve to be more conscious. It was earlier than he wanted to be awake. Ambrose could feel his joints protesting movement and his skin.. itching. Wincing, Bro sat slowly upright and felt his world swimming around him sickeningly, face flushed and frigid at the same time. Everything had a fisheye lens quality to it that he wasn't enjoying in the slightest, and with a failed attempt at standing landing him on his knees again he crawled hurriedly to a corner far from his bedding to empty his stomach out onto the concrete.
Farewell fine dinner, you will be missed. At least it'd been there a few hours, so it wasn't a total waste of calories.
Ah, you're finally up.
"The fuck is hap- hrrk," he got out before another heave took him over, leaving his shoulders around his ears and cold sweat racing down his clammy spine.
I told you: you're exposed here and your health is at risk, AR repeated as if speaking to a particularly slow child.
Groaning, Bro rubbed at his mouth with the back of his forearm and slowly crawled back to his bedding and backpack to try making himself pack. The area was bad, he had to leave no matter how shitty he felt. "Yeah, mind clarifying why I feel like dogshit all at once?"
Radiation sickness is, as they say, a bitch like that. I'd recommend leaving the area promptly as you can to reduce increasing symptoms, and to obtain treatment at the nearest facility you can reach.
The nearest facility, he says. The nearest facility.
"What part of THE FUCKING BOMBS FELL LIKE TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO don't you understand?" Bro complained, gritting his teeth and hurriedly packing. This was going to be a bitch to walk through later, he could already feel it. "I've got some meds but they're not instant.. ugh, don't you think you could've clarified that I was nappin' in a contaminated spot?"
If you'll recall I did. Repeatedly.
"Sayin' my health's at risk and that I'm exposed are two different fuckin' things, and nowhere did you say radiation," growled Ambrose as he shouldered his bag and grabbed his board, heading for the stairs. Away from the light he prepared to lift the shades to his forehead, only to realize the view had changed to something akin to night vision. It wasn't crisp as a cat, but it sure as fuck was an improvement on normal vision, and twice as much on sick vision.
..Okay, so maybe he wouldn't chuck this bitch into the trash after all.
Typically humans take warnings about their health and safety more seriously than 'Yeah, hold my beer'.
"Let's clarify then: if I'm about to get shanked, shot, eaten, beaten, fricasseed or FUCKING IRRADIATED to a level that’d make me sick... you tell me which it is and I'll act accordingly," Ambrose reasoned. "Also, shit, thanks for changin' the vision over. Why didn't you say you could do this earlier?"
You never asked, nor do I assume you read my user manual, as last I was aware there was not one in production.
Ambrose made it downstairs and outside before he dry heaved once again into the dirt. He took a moment afterwards to clear his sinuses, hock and spit for distance to get rid of the scent of vomit from his nose. It was an improvement to be able to breathe again, but he couldn’t pause to rinse his mouth just yet. Fuck he’d kill for some mouthrinse, or some alcohol to wash the taste out of his mouth..
No time to lament, it was time to focus and get moving again. Right. North. He was going North. Which way was North.. Ambrose craned his head back to watch the sky before looking towards the hints of dawn in the distance and adjusting his pathing accordingly.
"Y'know, I bet you've prolly got all kinds of maps and shit available to you," he said, "but I wish you had current maps. A lot of places just straight up don't exist or matter anymore compared to what mattered pre-war. ...And also, let me know when we're free of the contamination zone."
I am capable of adjusting my saved maps if required. Simply show me an adjusted one and I can save the data, or I can alter an existing copy. Also, you're lucky you look like Dirk. I don't believe I'd be willing to help anyone else who spoke to me half as carelessly and crudely as you do.
"Unless I had cheat codes I bet. What, havin' wet robo dreams about your creator or somethin'?"
It's not like that in the slightest, AR insisted in the same stoic monotone as usual, though somewhere in there Ambrose swore up and down he could detect a trace of something more.
"If I wake up with condensation all over you at some point I'm gonna just assume you were focusing too hard on this Dirk guy whose eyes I've got," Ambrose said. "What's robo jizz when you're an AI. Solder? Joint grease? Lubricant of some kind?"
I take back my previous warnings. The area we have left is perfectly clear of radiation. A good long nap is in order in the very clear safe area you were last camping in.
Bro smirked in amusement at the fact he was able to get beneath the skin of something that didn't even have skin to begin with. There was no reason to hold back on this thing. Yes there were feelings, but it wasn't quite the same as heckling Dave. Not the same at all.
This thing gave as good as it got and held no punches, not even when his life had been on the line. Something that could talk shit when he was at risk of dying while also helping him was kind of refreshing.
He kept walking till AR gave the all clear, then slowly took his bag off and sank down to sit in a clear area near some rocks, back against the unyielding surface to keep propped up as he rummaged out a container of pills and a container of water. Unable to really trust the water much anymore after the time it had spent in the contamination zone with him, but having no other options currently, Ambrose took a dose of medication with a few swigs.. before shrugging and draining the rest of the container. Being dehydrated was just as dangerous as what he was trying to cure and would kill him even faster to boot. Low grade radiation was no laughing matter, but damage and weakness from dehydration would just make death inevitable. Putting the pills and the empty container back into his bag, Ambrose sighed and closed his eyes for a few minutes, wanting it all to hit his stomach and settle instead of just coming back up immediately in a waste. AR had his back, and every time he opened his eyes he could see sharp outlines in the green wash of night vision. He did not envy future him in the slightest.. and made a mental note to scavenge bathrooms at the nearest opportunity to re-stock on toilet paper before it became a hot commodity.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
By the afternoon, Ambrose was still sick but far more mobile. Not in top fighting condition, but mobile. AR had, on his own volition, taken the request from earlier to heart and was keeping an eye out on the surroundings even in directions Ambrose wasn't currently focusing on. His peripheral vision had never been sharper than when a soft, steady voice alerted him to movement from one direction or another to avoid run ins with unwanted animals or people who held no good intentions for him. He kept his grip tight on his sword and used it when absolutely necessary, such as when a hungry wild dog caught scent of him and came in for the kill, but otherwise skirted around even the odd herd animal in case it turned violent. There just wasn’t energy to spare when every step felt like he was running in place.
It was a strange symbiotic relationship, but Bro was content with it for now. The best part of this was that voice didn't sound worried. It was comforting to not have emotion tied into it, letting him pick and choose his reactions at a better pace than feeding into potentially misplaced concerns. No frantic cries or stress, no aggression, not even suggestion in the tone. Just flat, simple alerts telling him which way to turn his head to make his own choices.
The sight of more and more people all filtering the same direction off in the horizon gave Bro a strong sense of relief as night came on. There was a glow in the distance as well, lights and flickery power and people and opportunities to rest and trade safely. Well. Safely as it could get out here anyway. From the shake in his legs and the nausea he was still feeling, the fever, this was a bit of a miracle in itself that he’d stumbled upon a populated trade area. Surely there was a doctor tucked away in there making a killing worth of profit from the locals and the unwary like himself that drifted in.
What had once been a strip mall complex had been reborn as a shopping center for everything from weaponry to clothing to farming supplies, and a nearby apartment block was divvied up to serve as a hotel. The cheapest rooms were the ones shared with multiple people and the cots all in one cramped space, while the more expensive guaranteed privacy of all facilities. Cheap but not that cheap, Bro opted for a room that could be split with another two people instead of several, and lucked out that at the time the amount of people were low and he had privacy for a while. Maybe he should have gone cheaper and shared with others.. But the thought of sharing a bathroom with six people while this sick was unpleasant.
Depositing his baggage beneath the cot he'd rented, he hauled his happy carcass to find the physician and got some extra treatment by way of a quick injection and a good dose of Prussian blue for good measure once he paid the fee. The doctor was used to this kind of thing, and said he should count himself lucky it wasn’t a higher dose that hit his organs. Blood transfusions were hit or miss outside of vaults or areas with more old tech to keep running. He purchased a few more items to take with him just in case of more issues, some more bandages as well, and then wished the physician farewell. After a bit more shopping, a shower and a change of clothes were also a godsend, though he was displeased with how little the collar of the new shirt could be popped compared to the old stained one he was ditching.
Oh well. Sacrifices must be made sometimes even for the suffering. He’d find a decent shirt somewhere else surely, somewhere with some proper abuse of starch.
AR was alternately chatty and silent, observing how society functioned now, from the money to the layout of the buildings and repurposing of property. It wasn't just an Ambrose thing then. The building codes were just chucked out the window entirely and everyone made the best of what they had or what they could get apparently. Even the fashion was different. It was a lot to take in and process, but every curious AR was taking careful notes and using his self teaching abilities to learn all that he could through observation. Ambrose answered every single one of his questions which was surprising but welcome, and he caught himself wondering if it was because he’d raised a child before that the constant barrage of ‘how, why, when, where, why, why, why’ didn’t drive him immediately up the wall.
Maybe the spawn was a boon instead of an unfortunate.
Dinner was courtesy of the strip mall, a restaurant near the end having a nice cozy atmosphere and plenty of good smelling smoke coming from its cracked open front door. The interior seemed to have been a restaurant pre-war as well, though many modifications had been done since to allow for the new dining options. Bro splurged on a double pattied burger with what was supposed to be cheese and sauce and even sprouts on top, easy to grow and even easier to not cook wrong. He got a serving of homemade pickles to put some of the salt back in his body from the sickness earlier, and even some pre-war dessert in a tightly sealed package. It had been Dave’s absolute favorite, an apple treat, and maybe it was the sentimental side of him acting up but he was sure it’d taste even sweeter than he remembered now that it’d been a while since experiencing it.
Bro. Are you certain your belongings are safe where you left them? It seems rather dog eat dog out here, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone robbed you blind.
"They saw what bag I was carryin' when I came in, and what room I'm in. Beyond that.. just gotta hope people're decent," he shrugged, feeding his hunger while he actually had it. He might still feel like he had the flu, but facts were facts: sometimes a guy just needed to stuff his face with greasy food to feel a bit more human.
I suppose there must be laws or rules in different settlements, AR mused. Recreations of what once was.
"Yeah, there's rules,” Bro said, counting off on his fingers as he talked with his mouth half full. “Don't be a douchebag, don't get caught bein' a douchebag, and if you start shit you get hit with deadly force because nobody's got time for even more bullshit than we've already gotta deal with." He licked his thumb free of some pickle juice as he finished listing things off, then dove in for some more. Sweet electrolytes take him home.
Don't forget to send your letter.
Startled that he’d nearly forgotten, Bro straightened up and glanced to the door to gauge how late it must be before turning back to his plate to finish his serving of food off. On a spur of the moment, swooning from the food, he caught the owner’s attention and got a sweet cola as well. The attempts at making fresh never tasted quite the same as the pre-war stock, and it was worth the extra bit of payment to ensure the bubbles were all his.
"Shit, you're right. Bit too late to do it right now, but the mornin' I should be able to find someone. This place is permanent it seems like, there'll be traders back and forth no doubt," he said. "Good call AR."
Hal.
"Come again?" Bro asked, confused.
Bro's vision flickered briefly as the letters H A L crossed his vision, followed by the same strange pair of red eyes with dark sclera he'd seen before. It lasted just a few seconds before fading out of sight, leaving him with the usual target t's of the shades instead.
My name. It’s Hal.
"Isn't your name AR?"
That is another sort of name, yes. But I would prefer if you called me Hal.
"...It's what Dirk called you, isn't it," Ambrose guessed.
Yes. But I would still prefer to have a name than an acronym.
Bro used one gloved, rough hand to twist off the cap from the bottle of soda and take a swig. It was sweet enough it made his teeth hurt a bit. Perfect end to a greasy, rich meal. His upset stomach would thank him for it later surely, but he was prepared for it now.
"Alright then. Hal. I can do that."
Thank yo-
"Soon as you admit my name isn't stupid."
The targets disappeared and the turning circles reappeared for a time like a holding signal.
Request does not compute. Name too unfortunate to register over acceptable name of Bro for user. Unable to re-register user, he said, accompanied by the saddest excuse for a failure tune Bro had ever heard in 8bit melody.
He sighed.
"Fine, fine. God damn you're a prick for a guy without a prick, Hal."
I've no doubt that will be rectified once we find my body. Keep your commentary in line with that thought as if it were already reality moving forward.
"Give an inch take a mile. Alright, duly noted. ...Wait, why the fuck would a government made AI need a fuckin' di-"
My creator was all about authenticity.
"...Right."
It's true.
"This is my rifle, this is my gun, this one's for shootin' this one's for fun," Ambrose sighed, tipping his bottle back to swig the rest of the drink down before casually belching the rush of bubbles back out. Phew. Better. Goodbye nausea, hello sweet relief.
I've no idea what you are referring to.
"Keep takin' notes, Hal, you'll catch up eventually to everything that Dirk didn't program into you. That's all the fun shit anyway, people always forget the real fun shit."
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like a sun rising | davey jacobs
french vanilla part four
reader x davey jacobs
[ newsies modern au ]
summary: every sunrise is a new beginning.
a/n: lol my summaries for these things just get shorter and more cryptic each time. sorry it’s been a little while since the last installment of this series, but i’m really hoping you’ll enjoy this one. as always, feel free to come talk to me about it afterwards! also, don’t be afraid to be asked to be added to my taglist !! if you already asked and i didn’t put you on it just shoot me a quick reminder :)
( french vanilla masterlist )
__________
__________
Davey was in a bit of a frenzy. He had cleaned the entire apartment (twice) and was constantly rearranging pillows and blankets on the couch, attempting to find the perfect positioning for them. All of his materials for the book were on the coffee table in neat piles that he had spent almost an entire day organizing, his laptop sitting right next to them. Sarah watched him with an amused expression on her face, shaking her head at him as she drank her tea. She had spent almost an hour in his room with him watching him try to pick out an outfit before she had snapped and just chosen one for him. He had on a gray sweater over top of a blue button up with black jeans. (She was sure that he remembered, just as she did, that Y/N had loved when he wore sweaters over button ups, but neither of them said a word.)
Jack was at an art convention for the weekend, which meant Davey didn't have to tell him about Y/N and that Sarah was staying for moral support. He had told the other boys that he had an essay he had to finish and would be holed up in his apartment for a few days. It was a normal enough, Davey and Jack were well known for locking themselves away in their apartment whenever they had a project to work on. It was probably one of the reasons they got along so well.
On the kitchen counter there was a plate of cookies that Sarah had baked and brought over, and there was coffee already brewing (and french vanilla creamer in the fridge). She couldn't help but feel like she was a mother organizing a play date for her anxiety-ridden child that had made his first ever friend. She had to keep reminding herself that getting annoyed with his antics would only make the situation worse - and it wasn't as if his nervousness wasn't warranted. She would bet money that Davey felt more adrenaline and fear when they heard a knock on the apartment door than he had in his entire life. He looked at her quickly, his eyes wide with panic. She nodded toward the door, raising an eyebrow in question. He took a deep breathe before nodding his head and walking to the door.
She sipped her tea, preparing herself for the long day ahead.
__________
Y/N had called someone the day after Davey had invited her over. Her and her ex-coworker, Alex, weren't as close anymore, seeing as neither of them still worked at the coffee shop, but they kept in touch. She wasn't entirely sure that he would care at all, but she had to talk to someone. He picked up the phone after the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Do you remember Davey Jacobs?"
"Oh, hi, Y/N. Nice to talk to you, too." She could practically hear him rolling his eyes from the other side of the phone.
"Hi, Alex. Wonderful to talk to you again. Do you remember Davey Jacobs?"
"The boy who you flirted with for a while at the shop before you guys actually started dating and then he broke your heart right before you left for Paris? That Davey Jacobs?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "That Davey Jacobs."
"No, I don't really remember him." The bastard was grinning, she knew he was.
"Alex!" She heard him laugh quietly to himself.
"Alright, alright. I'm sorry. Yes, I remember Davey Jacobs. Why are you asking?" Y/N took a deep breath, running her hand through her hair.
"I saw him again. And we talked. And it was nice. And then he called me. And now I'm going to his house on Saturday."
"What the fuck?"
"Can you come over?"
"I'm already out the door."
When Alex had arrived, he knocked harshly and repetitively on her door. She almost fell over running to go open it, out of breath and obviously frazzled when she finally got it open and was looking her old best friend in face. He stalked in immediately, making wild hand gestures.
"He broke your heart, Y/N!" He cried out, pacing around the living room. She winced at his volume, grateful that her roommate was out.
"I know that!" She yelled back indignantly before lowering her voice. "Of course I know that."
"Then why go back to him?" Alex was staring at her incredulously, trying to piece the situation together and get whatever he could out of her.
"Because I saw him again, and we talked. And it just felt so... so natural, Alex. Like a habit I can't be rid of. I mean, I was sitting with him and I felt so warm and safe, and literally nothing else mattered. And he looked so good and his cheeks were red, and I wanted to kiss him so bad." She took a deep breath, running her hands through her hair as she looked back up at her friend. He was watching her with sad but understanding eyes. Without saying anything he walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him back without a second thought, letting herself relax a bit.
"You two were the happiest couple I had ever seen, you know that? We all thought that you were made for each other, that you guys would last forever."
"Alex, that's not helping." He shushed her, kissing her forehead affectionately.
"Let me finish," he smiled. He pulled away from her so he could look her in the eye. "I don't think that you were ever meant to break up. I think you two were literally written in the stars, and I think you deserve your happy ending. I think that the reason you broke up was valid at the time, but now it's kind of stupid." She looked at him with wide eyes, sniffling as he spoke. "Y/N, why did you call me?" She laughed bitterly.
"I wanted you to talk me out of it," she admitted. He grinned in response.
"Well, tough shit. I think that if you have a shot at a second chance with a boy like Davey fucking Jacobs you're sure as hell taking it." She laughed, smiling back at him. He spent the rest of the day at her apartment, keeping her distracted from the worries fighting their way into her mind.
_________
When Davey went to open the door, he figured he was prepared as he'd ever be. He was wrong. He was nowhere near prepared for the sight of Y/N L/N standing in his doorway for the first time in a year, looking as beautiful as ever. He stopped breathing for a second, looking at her standing in her cream colored sweater and blue jeans rolled up over her ankles. She looked like a goddamn angel.
She was smiling at him nervously, the same way he had seen her smile when he had introduced her to his parents for the first time, and fiddling with the strap of the bag she had brought with her. Her cheeks were flushed from the wind outside, painting them a delightful pink. Time stopped for a few seconds, the two of them just staring at each other.
"Hey, Dave," Y/N finally spoke up. In just one month he had forgotten how much he adored the sound of her voice.
"Hey, Y/N," he breathed, opening the door wider so that she could walk into the apartment. He closed the door behind her, reminding himself to take deep breaths. She looked around, fingers still relentlessly tugging at the strap of her backpack. He watched as she smiled softly at the environment, knowing that not much had changed since the last time she had been there, save for it being a bit cleaner. He tried not to think about the last time they had stood together in his living room, the memory stinging his heart. He pushed away the pain.
A silence lingered between them, but it wasn't like the one from the night everything had gone wrong. There was still a bit of awkwardness - the uncertainty of the hope slowly bubbling in their chests - but underneath it all there was a sense of familiarity. Even with all the time that had passed, they were still just David Jacobs and Y/N L/N. Still just two fools who had fallen in love and forgotten how to fall out of it.
"You got a new blanket," she spoke up, pointing at one of the only things she didn't recognize in the room - a dark green blanket, folded and resting on the couch.
"Uh, yeah, we did. Someone spilled something all over the gray one during a movie night and we had to throw it away. It was unsalvageable." He hated having to make small talk with her. He hated knowing that no matter what there was always going to be something that held them back from each other.
"Aw, the gray one was my favorite." She pouted playfully, turning to face him again. He smiled shyly at her. "My condolences for your loss, though." He laughed, and she smiled, and it really wasn't fair how right it felt. She clapped her hands together suddenly and he was shaken out the trance he always seemed to slip into while looking at her. "Okay, what do you want to start with?"
"Huh?" He looked at her in confusion and she rolled her eyes, somehow making even such a sarcastic action seem nice and playful.
"For the book, duh. That's why you invited me over, right?" He nodded quickly, leading them both over to the couch so they could look at all the papers he had organized on the coffee table.
"Well, I was hoping to talk about the characters, to start. I feel like we were missing pieces of them, you know? Like, we had basic knowledge of their lives and we gave enough information to make them people, but not really to make them real. We didn't really know them. Does that make sense?" He glanced at her anxiously.
"Yes." Her answer came out in a breathless kind of whisper and her cheeks were tinted pink. "Yeah, that makes complete sense." There was a pause where she looked at all of the papers and then back at Davey, almost as if she was seeing it all for the first time. Even him. "I missed this, talking about writing and books and all that. I don't have anyone to do that with anymore."
He couldn't breathe. God, who gave her the right to just say things like that? Things that made him miss her more than ever and reminded him that she wasn't his anymore? And what business did she have looking at him like that? Like she had the very first day they had met? Like they were back in the coffee shop and they were younger and didn't know about all the tragedy and hurt that would befall them? She shouldn't have been looking at him like that.
He never wanted her to stop looking at him like that.
"I missed it, too." Her smile spread slowly and gently across her face and he swore he was falling in love all over again, right then and there. She had a habit of smiling like a sun rising, and he adored it.
"Oh!" She exclaimed, bringing her bag onto her lap and unzipping it. "I brought all the stuff I could find, everything that I still have." She pulled out a folder stuffed with papers and sticky notes and all the little ideas and concept building she and Davey had written down.
"That is a huge ass folder," a voice said from behind them. They both turned to find Sarah with a mug in her hands, eyes wide as she looked at all the papers. "I didn't realize you guys had done that much work on the story before."
"Well, we did spend quite a while on it," Davey responded, shooting his sister a pointed look that clearly meant he wanted her to leave. She smiled mischievously and walked around the couch, plopping herself down next to Y/N, careful not to spill her tea.
"Hey Y/N, how are you?" Her smile softened when talking to Y/N, but all Davey could focus on was how nervous and scared Y/N suddenly looked.
"I'm uh, I'm pretty good, you?" Her voice was small and Davey had to resist the urge to reach out and grab her hand as a way of comfort. She had been just as nervous the day she had met Sarah for the first time, and Davey had held her hand the whole time. He tried not to let the pain of remembering show on his face.
"I'm fantastic," Sarah grinned. "And I made cookies, so if you want some they're in the kitchen." Y/N nodded and Davey could hardly stand to watch the interaction, completely aware of all the awkward tension in the air.
"It's really good to see you," Y/N blurted out, staring right at Sarah. The older Jacobs sibling practically beamed.
"You too." Davey could practically feel the way the tension dissipated as they looked at each other, smiling. Sarah always had been fond of Y/N, and Y/N had always felt the same way. Davey had never been more happy that Sarah was the one he confided in when it came to all things Y/N related.
Sarah stayed a while, listening as Davey and Y/N worked out ideas for their characters, sometimes offering comments or making jokes. They worked and talked for hours, snacking on cookies and other junk foods. They had each gone through almost three mugs of coffee, tea, and hot chocolate respectively. When dinner time rolled around, Sarah insisted that Y/N should stay and eat with them, but Y/N kindly declined.
She said that she was having dinner with a friend of hers, but thanked them for the kind offer. Davey tried to ignore the way his heart trembled when the door closed behind her. He tried not to think about the way the door had slammed the last time she had walked out. He tried not to think of the way he had let her go. He tried not to think about the way that he had sat, stewing in his own anger and self hatred after she was gone.
He tried not to think of her at all, but it was easier said than done.
________
Alex wanted to know every single detail at dinner. Y/N was all too happy to oblige - she had always loved relaying every single detail of the time she spent with Davey. She wanted to memorize all of it, and retelling it helped. She told Alex about the way his apartment was almost exactly the same as it had been a year ago, about the way Sarah had treated her as an old friend, about the way she had spent the whole time trying not to stare at Davey because he looked oh so good in his button up and sweater. She told him everything, and he grinned the whole way through. By the end of the night he was placing bets on when Y/N and Davey would get back together. She told him to shut up, but the thought rooted itself in her head and brought a warmth to her chest.
She crashed at his place instead of going home, texting her roommate to let her know. She was too exhausted to make the trek back to her own apartment. She woke in the early hours of the morning, while Alex was still sleeping. Quietly, she slipped out the window and onto his fire escape. The sun was just beginning to rise, and she wrapped her arms around herself while she watched it ascend.
She thought of the way Jack had loved to paint sunsets and sunrises, wondering if he still did, or if he had found a new type of scene to paint over and over again. She thought of the way she had once pulled an all nighter with Race and Spot and they had watched the sun rise together, wondering if they still spent their nights together, staying up until morning. She thought of the way Katherine favorite outfit was made up of the colors of a sunrise, wondering if she had found new favorite clothes in an entirely new color palette. She thought of the way the sunlight used to stream through the windows of Davey's bedroom as it was rising, illuminating the two of them still tangled together. She wondered if there had been anyone else waking up with the sun still tangled in his bed since she had left. Thinking about all of it hurt. It ached in the way old wounds always seemed to do, the pain resurfacing as if brand new.
She cried while she watched the sunrise, thinking about everything she had lost and everything she no longer knew. When Alex woke up he brought her two pieces of toast and a glass of orange juice and didn't ask any questions, simply sat with her and looked out at the sky, eating his own toast and drinking a mug of coffee.
When she finally went back to her own apartment later in the day, feeling strangely empty, she ate some lunch while staring blankly at the TV as some rerun played. After she finished eating, she got in the shower, trying to scrub away the memories and the hurt. Halfway through her shower, her phone vibrated. By the time she got out and got dressed, she had forgot about it.
It wasn't until she picked up her phone to type up a quick grocery list before she headed out to the store that she remembered. Right there on her screen was a text notification, and she almost dropped her phone.
No part of her could fathom why Charles Morris, more affectionately known as Crutchie, would be texting her after all the time that had passed. She didn't even read the text, just made her shopping list and left, pushing it to the back of her mind. She was too tired and numb to deal with it, filing it away as a problem for later.
__________
tag list:
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#french vanilla#like a sun rising#davey jacobs x reader#newsies x reader#newsies imagine#davey jacobs imagine#sarah jacobs#french vanilla part four#crutchie#crutchie morris#charles morris#crutchie newsies#amber can kinda write#newsies#broadway imagine#validate me pls#pretty proud of this ngl#hope yall liked it#i have missed this series#can gurantee youre gonna love the next part#;)
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HS Epi: Meat p12 reaction
Back to Earth C presumably.
I gotta say, I'm curious to find out the final page count of Meat.
The way we liveblog, the experience is stretched out, so with theories surfacing and such, we might be caught off guard when things are really over.
There's only so far that things will be taken, though I guess we're still in for those "original Male/Female characters", I guess. :P
That shouldn't refer to the new Reload timeline John created, I think, with copies of all the people mentioned in the rest of the character list.
So, uh, yeah, guess the reason Arquiusprite wasn't mentioned in there was because he remained unseen, voided out if you will.
And I guess we shouldn't expect an alternate Equius to have a talking role, either?
---
==>
Well! Talk about jumping straight into the action, this page opens with a dialoguelog!
Back to Dave, Karkat and if my eyes didn't deceive me, we'll get some lines for Jade, too! Supportive Jade will be supportive.
"hit jane right in her neoliberal austerity measures"
... Hah. Well, I didn't think that would get referenced again at all, but it seems after all these years since John's 18th birthday Dave still has issues with the ol' N.A.M.
So, Jane's a neoliberal AND a fascist now, Dave? Is that... even feasible?
"DAVE: now shes gonna spin some shit about supply side economics but we cant let her control the narrative on that one cause the first thing thats gonna happen once she begins deregulating the baking industry is that some sweet dumb crocodile down in consort land is gonna start putting sparkle glue in the cupcake mix which isnt even the real issue thats just surface issues
KARKAT: RIGHT.
JADE: definitely"
... Like, Dave I admire you're getting so into this, but you realize they aren't following, right?
Also, why would Jane want to deregulate the baking industry if she's the leader of the foremost power in said industry, as well as running for president?
Plus, Jane can't control the narrative because Caliborn is already controlling it! :mspa:
"DAVE: i mean earth c has just been play acting capitalism the last five thousand years while we timeskipped ahead to live rad lives as gods without bothering with any of the boring shit that goes into making a civilization
DAVE: which is fine i mean you cant really expect a bunch of teens who didnt finish middle school to set up a sustainable form of social democracy that isnt just blatantly ripped off whatever we incorrectly thought obama god rest his soul was doing back in the day"
... Gee, Dave's given this a real lot of thought.
Props to him, but I hope that aside from becoming 'an activist' he's also got some legitimite action points to improve Earth C's situation.
Guess Sburb really does a number on players, huh? "Congrats, you won, you're all gods now, and also, here's this whole civilization on the brink of collapse, have fun with that. Don't mess this up, I need those people to start the apocalypse in say, 2000 years, k thx bye."
(The fact that this civilization, being outside of the Green Sun's influence, may never implement Sburb, is a bit besides the point since I think the trolls would have had the same issue tossed onto them had they actually gone through the victory door.)
Right, but the trolls had their home planet already effectively run by children, I wonder if that will come again?
Even though they had carpenter droids at their disposal to run some things for them, they might actually be a bit more self-reliant than the humans!
"DAVE: but janes got this old school mentality you just know she wants to restrict grist alchemy for the sake of “growth” and when that goes down itll take three seconds flat for some nobody in new dersetown to drop the earth c communist manifesto"
... New Dersetown, I like the ring of that. Would call it New Dersey for short, though. :P
Again, valid points there, Dave! If any revolt started, it doesn't have to be in the troll community, it could just as much be an angry carapace uprising! They're only docile if there's no one to rally behind.
Blaperile has this idea that the new society in a universe is not supposed to be seeded with the remains of the session nor the universe that came before it.
That's actually a valid point; the only reason this society got kickstarted was through the cloning apparatus that was on the meteor!
The consorts and carapaces seem like they would be able to reproduce biologically though, so I'm not sure how Sburb normally ensures the planet is a clean slate for a new species to emerge.
... Okay, so the planet itself doesn't really need to be the place where a new Sburb-playing species rises, true. There's a whole new universe out there.
Maybe through "importing" old Sburb technology, the "alpha" planet designation went to Earth C automatically, though.
Or maybe First Guardians are expected to 'cleanse' the planet from outside influence normally, but since this society's outside of the Green Sun's influence, that ain't happening. And Jade won't be going Thanos on Earth C.
"KARKAT: OH YEAH.
JADE: of course
DAVE: are you two even listening or are you just making noises with your mouths"
Dave realizing he's monologuing? What character development is this. :O
"KARKAT: I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M BEING ACCUSED BY DAVE STRIDER, REIGNING EMPEROR OF SPEWING ENDLESS VERBAL DIARRHEA DIRECTLY INTO MY INNOCENT HEAR DUCTS EVERY DAY OF MY FUCKING LIFE, OF MAKING THOUGHTLESS MOUTH NOISES.
KARKAT: JADE, ARE YOU HEARING THIS?
JADE: im scandalized
JADE: especially when
JADE: there are much better things we could all be doing with our mouths....."
... Jade, your animes are showing again.
... I think that maybe Jade doesn't want this relation to be going where Dave and Karkat want it to go.
"It’s been a really nice day they’ve been having, and then Jade had to go say something like that. The air in the hive changes in a way that is palpable, in a way that she can’t seem to accurately gauge despite having both superhuman and superdog senses."
... Ah. So I guess maybe Jade just can't get a lid on some of her more... canine inclinations, at time. Welp!
"Elements of her outfit resemble her god tier jammies: peasant skirt, sparkly flats, and a bold choice in striped tights."
Nice! That's only the third person who created an outfit based on her god tier outfit that we know, aside from Meenah and Rose.
"the couch where she crashed last night, and the night before that, and the better part of the seven years before that."
It would seem Jade has the wanderlust then, she's more like the vagrant dog that comes visiting from time to time?
More GCAT in demeanor than Becquerel, in practice. Heheh.
Good for her, after being isolated on an island and then a battleship for so long, she's finally going out & seeing things!
"There are other personal effects of hers in the living room too: plants on the windowstill, her bass guitar sitting in a corner"
Cool, so when she comes over, she typically lounges here then. Guess the flute never made it over, though. :p
"a horrific-looking periodic table that Dave made her for her seventeenth birthday pinned above the stairwell. He typed it in Comic Sans, and then deep-fried it to oblivion with JPEG artifacts."
... Next up, on For Fans By Fans...
"And Dave, with his preternaturally perfect timing, sweeps a hand over his tablet to bring up a new PowerPoint slide on the TV. He returns to his Comic Sans-written political presentation, gruesome artifacts and all"
Dave, Dave that isn't professional at all!
", with the grace and proficiency of a man who has diffused an awkward situation in his own household many times per day, every day, for many years."
Well, okay, that is really mature. But when Dave is the adult in a situation, the situation is very awkward per definition.
"DAVE: alternia: brutal eugenics based space dictatorship
KARKAT: NOT UNTRUE."
Succinct, brutal, but not dishonest.
"DAVE: troll homeworld: lord of the flies nightmare scenario where kids murder each other just to get the chance to get to grow up and murder other aliens instead
KARKAT: IT WASN’T THAT BAD."
Karkat. Karkat that isn't a valid rebuke.
"KARKAT: YOU MADE THAT LAST ONE UP.
KARKAT: ALSO, IT WAS DISGUSTING??
KARKAT: GROW THE FUCK UP, YOU UTTERLY CONTEMPTIBLE, POTTY MOUTHED *CUNT*."
... The irony is stark.
"JADE: also you know trolls dont actually have two dicks dave thats an offensive stereotype"
Are we really doing troll anatomy? Well, I guess it's good to know that the fan theory about Sollux at least isn't applicable to the entire species.
"DAVE: trolls: literally ate babies
KARKAT: ONLY THE DEFECTIVE ONES.
DAVE: like you my dude
KARKAT: ...YEAH.
DAVE: so thats why our campaign can work"
Yeah, Karkat ate grubs, though they weren't troll babies.
Also, yeah, Karkat was a mutant, but I wonder if that would really help his case here.
"DAVE: btw im gonna be giving a long form exam at the end of this to make sure youre retaining info because this is only like the most important thing weve ever done collectively"
Well he ain't wrong.
"KARKAT: ARE YOU ASKING ME WHETHER I’VE HEARD THIS EXACT SPEECH ALMOST WORD FOR WORD, INCLUDING REHEARSED VERSIONS OF BOTH THE COLORFUL METAPHORS AND “JOKES,” TEN OR TWENTY TIMES ALREADY?
KARKAT: BECAUSE THE ANSWER WOULD BE
KARKAT: YES, OF COURSE I FUCKING HAVE."
Poor, poor Karkat.
"Karkat elbows Dave in the thigh, a move that is obviously meant to be an action of pure, brotherly jest. But instead it comes off as affectionate and overly intimate. Jade’s clever eyes don’t miss this. Her pupils follow the motion of Karkat’s arm, and then they follow the movement of Dave’s mouth as he smiles in what he probably thinks is a totally neutral expression that reveals exactly 0% of his true feelings toward Karkat Vantas. In reality, his veneer is as thin and transparent as cellophane. He is the only person who can’t see through it.
Jade does some calculations in her head. Two kinds of calculations, in fact: mathematical ones and personal ones."
So, is Jade reading too much into their relationship, or are the dudes just... Both too shy?
"JADE: soooooo
JADE: do you want a projection of her first years hit on the economy down to the decimal with a 0.3% margin of error
JADE: because thats a thing i can do if itll make you stop talking about this stupid election for ten minutes"
I didn't know that were First Guardian powers! :p I suppose it might be her natural intellect though, but we've only known her as the hands-on science type until now.
"She proceeds to dazzle the two boys with explications on complex math utilizing taxation rates, GDP figures, and some damned thing called the “Laffer curve,”"
Dang, Jade is as much committed to this as Dave! (Or maybe she learned all this because it means so much to him, that could be it too!)
"The thing about Jade Harley is that she’s not as good at personal things as she is at other things. Like science, or mastering fraymotifs, or kissing, the last of which she has definitely put a lot of levels into over the past few years because, well, what else are you supposed to do with immortal godhood once you hit the age where the dog hormones start kicking into overdrive?"
Guess for dogs, kissing isn't that personal. :p And well, I guess Jade's only now learning the real consequences of turning into a real-life furry.
At least she won't have had lack of candidates to practice kissing with. She might even have become the Witch of Spacing Out Young Adults.
"Her high-prescription lenses make her eyes look anime-huge. They might literally be glittering, she’s so completely serious about the issue she is trying to stress."
And the fan artists rejoiced for all the new descriptions they have to work with!
"
JADE: im about to lay out some cold hard evidence so pay attention!
KARKAT: OH, HANG ON, LET ME GET A PEN."
You can't live together with Dave for years without learning when it's time to start taking notes and grab a fucking pen.
"JADE: evidence about.....
JADE: our relationship!
KARKAT: FUCK"
Pfff, okay, never mind.
I think Jade might have hit a wall several times over before, trying to either define their relationship or take it to the next level.
These dudes are really sensitive about their feelings, after all.
But it would be interesting, learning Jade wants to know where they stand just as much as the outside world does.
"JADE: you let me live in your hive when im in town
KARKAT: I CAN’T BELIEVE...
JADE: im preeeetty intimately entwined in both your lives
KARKAT: THAT YOU’RE JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS?
JADE: AND you dont disengage from about 86.234% of my flirtations
KARKAT: WAIT, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU KEEP TRACK OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT?
JADE: so....... are we doing this or not?"
So, just like with taking on Lord English and acknowledging the lit fuse that is Earth C society, I guess the coming around of April 13th 2019 is when Jade had enough of all this silly business and wants to know what's what.
(Also, I suppose the level of intimacy they shared on beforehand will be left to speculation.)
"KARKAT: DOING WHAT?!
JADE: dating dummy!!!!!!!!
KARKAT: OH.
KARKAT: THAT IS
KARKAT: THAT IS... A COMPLICATED TOPIC IN MY CULTURE THAT I’M NOT SURE HUMANS ARE EQUIPPED TO TALK ABOUT."
Smooth, Karkat, real smooth. Maybe Karkat fears commitment will lead to some of their relationships shifting into other quadrants.
And he wouldn't like to be moirails or auspistices with either of them.
"DAVE: also totally unrelated to the economy"
... Nice try Dave, but I think this can't be steered back into that track.
"DAVE: which not gonna lie is the only thing i want to talk about for uh
DAVE: for however long it takes for this other conversation to stop happening
JADE: so say no!!!
DAVE: well
KARKAT: UHHHHH
JADE: im not just forcing this conversation for my sake! its for you two as well
JADE: i mean after all this time have you two even kissed yet??????
DAVE: wha"
I think Dave and Karkat might actually have been both content to stay uncommitted and fearful to put a label on it.
Also Jade's question will presumably remain unanswered, it's already surprising it's confirmed she hasn't seen them kissing.
And that is ignoring the matter of whether either Dave or Karkat kissed Jade before.
I guess it's only fortunate for this situation that this instance of Jade never dated Davesprite, it would only complicate things further.
"DAVE: wha
KARKAT: WH-WHY WOULD
DAVE: uhh
KARKAT: WHY WOULD WE KISS??
DAVE: thats
KARKAT: THAT’S... YOU... I MEAN, HE’S... HE’S DAVE.
DAVE: we
KARKAT: AND I’M KARKAT."
PFffffffff, hilarious! I can just see them blushing like tomatoes right now.
Can't keep staying in denial bros!
"JADE: yes hes dave and youre karkat and everyone we know always calls you that
JADE: “dave and karkat”"
Hah! Yeah, but they also think you're part of the item, Jade. Care to shed some thoughts on the subject?
"JADE: i cant remember the last time i heard anyone mention one of you without the other
JADE: the two of you have basically been together since your days on the meteor its SO obvious"
Jade has turned this from a personal matter into a fandom matter. "Everyone and their dog knows you're dating, guys! Stop pretending otherwise!"
It's interesting to note the different ways Dave has been seen handling relationships.
When he dated Terezi in the GO timeline, it went south due her troubles in the black quadrant.
When Davesprite dated Jade, it went south due to unresolved Dave issues, presumably having to do with his bros.
With Karkat, Dave's been in a stable-ish thing for the longest time, though.
"
KARKAT: VERY CLOSE FRIENDS WHO UNDERSTAND AND SUPPORT EACH OTHER ON A DEEP AND EMPATHETIC LEVEL THAT GOES BEYOND HATE OR PITY. YOU COULD EVEN SAY THAT OUR RELATIONSHIP...
KARKAT: ...TRANSCENDS QUADRANTS."
... PFfffffff, so this could have been what it was like for the Sufferer and the Disciple, then!
They were just never ready to commit? That would actually be funnier than it being this deep and fulfilling relationship.
It would also make Doc Scratch' misgivings on the relationship even more hilarious.
"JADE: yeaaaaaah not gonna lie karkat but that sounds totally kinda gay
KARKAT: UGH YOU HUMANS AND YOUR UNFATHOMABLE GENDER BASED QUADRANTS."
... Heh. Actually. Too trolls, the whole gender-based romance thing we have going must indeed be as unfathomable as leprechaun romance.
"Jade faceplams."
Well that's a new verb. ;) What part of the body is the 'plam', exactly?
"
KARKAT: ANYWAY WEREN’T YOU... DATING THAT CARAPACIAN COUPLE? LAST TIME WE CHECKED?"
Lolwut. Jade. Jade are you... are you being a Ms. Casanova, a paramour or two in every city you frequent?
If WV and PM turn out to be alive for the sole purpose of dating Jade, I'll choke on my drink.
"
DAVE: wait you saying we arent fun
JADE: whens the last time either of you left the house??????"
I know Jade means it as in, she'd like to date them for keeps.
But I also fulheartedly believe Dave and Karkat can sustain themselves on delivery pizza and chinese chow.
"In her other hand, she tries to grab Dave’s wrist, but he flash-steps to the other side of the couch."
Well that's a new use of the power, guess Dave must really have felt alarmed. :p
"JADE: i wanna try dating for real
KARKAT: HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED
KARKAT: SORRY IF WHAT I’M ABOUT TO SAY TOTALLY BLOWS YOUR MIND
KARKAT: DATING A SINGLE PERSON, FOR MORE THAN HALF A SWEEP, FOR REASONS OTHER THAN INITIATING THE CONCUPISCENT EXCHANGE OF FLUIDS?"
Karkat is trying to throw the issue back into Jade's face by saying she should try dating for a longer period of time.
But that's exactly what she's trying to do here! She knows who she wants that with!
That poor little troll, he's not getting out from under this.
"JADE: third of all karkat arent you from a culture where people are expected to engage in romantic relationships with up to like five people at a time??
KARKAT: THAT’S NOT
KARKAT: THAT’S NOT THE SAME THING AT ALL."
If he's trying to avoid getting dragged into quadrants with people, he should stop upholding the validity of the quadrants to hold people off. :p
"DAVE: ok jade i think theres a flaw in your approach here cause you seem to think winning an argument on super clever logical grounds is gonna get a couple dudes to break down and fling themselves at you in like, a sexual way
JADE: wellll it usually does ;B
DAVE: oh my fucking god"
So she swoons people by way of her big brain.
Jade's got CLASS.
"This earns Dave a look. A long, sad one that has Jade messing with her glasses again so that she can peer right at him and apply some more of that faulty personal math to his facial expression."
Just confirmation here that Jade isn't necessarily correct in all her assessments due to not being objective.
"JADE: dave are you in love with obama?
DAVE: jade jesus where do you get this shit from
JADE: is it about jesus then??????"
Aaaaaand this has been derailed again.
"DAVE: no!
DAVE: jesus wasnt even real
JADE: i know he wasnt real!
JADE: wait...
JADE: are you saying
JADE: obama was real?
DAVE: ...
DAVE: yes"
Wut. Wai- I- Jade. Honey. Please.
Guess for all her involvement in politics since, those isolated years on the island sheltered her WAY too much.
"DAVE: obama was real
DAVE: he was the president
KARKAT: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
JADE: all this time i thought obama was like
JADE: an aspirational fictional character that you modeled your life after
KARKAT: AHAHAHAHA I CAN’T AHAHA BREATHE...
JADE: like snoop dog or nicolas cage"
... Jade. Jade no. You're just making this worse on yourself.
For Jade, there would have been almost nothing in Homestuck she'd have seen as a reference to 'real life', would there?
"senary numeral systems that allow me to do complex equations in my head"
... Why is Base 6 good for complex equations? I'm probably not good enough at math to know.
"KARKAT: WHY IS IT LIKE SOME SORT OF *TRAGEDY* HOW SHE WAS RAISED?
KARKAT: BECAUSE SHE WAS RAISED ALONE BY AN ANIMAL??
KARKAT: *I* WAS RAISED ALONE BY AN ANIMAL!"
There! It's getting acknowledged again, how Jade's upbringing more resembles a troll than a human's!
Becquerel the lusus.
"There’s a ripple in the room that makes it clear their god tier powers have just clashed against each other. He shifts his arm through time and Jade warps the space around them so that she’s the one holding the tablet. This is not the first time that they have rearranged the fabric of reality for a petty reason like this. Karkat has permanently sworn off playing board games with them."
... Lol. First real use of the god tier powers in Earth C, and it goes like this!
Wait, couldn't Jade have snapped... Right, no, she actually wouldn't have First Guardian powers anymore now, I forgot.
Still, what did Dave try to do, move the tablet to another point in the timeline?
"The moment Jade brings the paint program up on the television, Karkat stops laughing.
KARKAT: NO!"
Oh boy. Time for the Penis Quadrant scene, this time with three people.
... This would actually fall under both definitions of a "sketch", actually.
"He tries to grab the tablet from her, but she’s hovering well above the ground and he simply is not tall enough to reach. With a shit-eating grin and deliberate care, Jade begins to draw a grid."
He's going to jump up to grab her leg, to disturb the drawing, isn't he?
"She gives Karkat a pair of fuzzy, angry eyebrows"
Now I'm starting to think of the Karkat expressions in that one Paradox Space.
"all he accomplishes is turning the redrom trajectory between her and Dave into a redrom loop-de-loop."
This is all I could want from a reprise of this scene.
"JADE: see me and karkat have great black chemistry!
KARKAT: IT IS NOT BLACK CHEMISTRY YOU HORRID NON-CHITINOUS WINDBAG!"
A+ denial there, Karkat, props on the response.
"JADE: and now that daves all chill hed make a great auspistice"
Jade just wants all Karkat's quadrants filled by the three of them, somehow.
"JADE: because you and karkat are kind of like moirails
DAVE: no
JADE: and you and i
JADE: well yknow its always been pretty flirty
DAVE: jade
JADE: EXCEPT!
Jade finishes drawing a shaky heart directly into the paint program. It’s so big and bright on the TV that it fills the entire room with red light."
She's putting all these names and symbols to the relationship, it might just be too much for these poor boys to handle. :p
"JADE: i call this political arrangement:
JADE: fully automated luxury polyamorous space-time communism!!!!!!!"
That is not the shipping name I would've chosen, but it's the shipping name we deserve.
And hey, communism! Get it? Cause Karkat had a sickle.
I wonder what Karkat's take on polyamory outside of the ashen quadrant is, actually.
"Jade rolls her eyes and tosses both the tablet and pen over her shoulder. Dave flashes across the living room to catch his very expensive computing device in both arms. The pen bounces off his forehead."
This. Entire. Scene.
"JADE: i have to go talk to roxy and callie about the election anyway"
Well, she's going to let them stew on this for a while.
But I'm eager to find out who Roxy & Calliope would back. You might think Jane's a given, but if she's been busy maybe they have grown closer to Jade & Dave!
"Jade clicks her heels together to propel herself back into the air and actually winks at them before absconding through an open window."
Think happy thoughts!
Also, I just realized becoming a god sadly never gave Karkat the powers of flight.
"Dave and Karkat both stare after her, silently caught in their own private rationalization spirals.
Karkat needs to verbalize part of his out loud."
Ah, but can they stay in that spiral or will they have no choice but to break out of it?
"KARKAT: WANNA PLAY SOME TROLL TONY HAWK?
DAVE: hell
DAVE: yeah"
Yyyyyeaah, they are not going to have changed when Jade comes back, will they?
So even Karkat calls it "Troll Tony Hawk", not whatever absurdly wrong name it'd have on Alternia, and not whatever Tony Hawk's duodecimal name in Alternian would be. :P
#homestuck#homestuck epilogues#upd8#reaction#spoiler alert#jade harley#karkat vantas#dave strider#homestuck liveblog
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Well Zach is in his hometown for a few days and I’m in this weird restless mood while being super tired at the exact same time.
I want to go drinking and I want to dance. Actually, I mostly just want to dance.
I want to be happy and so fucking giddy that I’m out of my mind and care free and just be in that moment when nothing matters so I’m going to have a good time.
Do you ever have a conversation and you realize hmmm, I probably shouldn’t have said that because now it’s weird?
I mean, that’s kind of every extended conversation I have with anyone but still.
I kind of want to punch myself in the face (((: but at the same time, I want to go dancing, so?
I am not going to beat myself up over this! I refuse to! You know, I have gotten so much better about feeling guilty over everything! And I was being vulnerable! So bonus points, right?
Anyway, I’m friends with my ex. I guess we’ve become good friends in the past several months. He asked me if I still was planning to move to Charlotte and of course my whole situation is convoluted (in my mind) so I was like, can I explain it to you over skye because I didn’t feel like talking about it through text.
Jesus, I have no idea how anyone deals with me and talking to me because words don’t come out of my mouth correctly? Like in my head I’m just like this is what I will say! But when it comes out of my mouth it’s like scrabble with words. Have fun rearranging my sentence and guessing what I’m trying to say! AND I SAID NOT TO BEAT MYSELF UP. I will learn how to talk to people one day, I swear.
SO, we’re skyping and he finally gets me to start talking about the situation at hand and I’m explaining the developments in some sort of way and telling him my options. I then proceed to kind of casually mention my hesitation of moving to a new place with Zach because I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be with him. AND boy oh boy oh boy, why did I mention that? To my ex.
Granted, he took it well. He is probably used to my awkwardness by now so I’m guessing that helps and he was very nice and understanding about it and didn’t ask any further questions and I don’t even remember what I said after that.
But I’m kind of mortified.
Btw, I was finally emailed the new leasing terms for my apartment as this current lease ends in July. The new rent will be nearly $1000 and I’m just in shock that they put it up that high out of seemingly no where? With no justification. This is a nice place, I have been very fortunate to have been able to live here for the past 2 years but fuck that. I’m going to start paying my own rent in July and I’m not spending that much money on rent in fucking Winston Salem. Literally, the only other apartments in this area that are that expensive are the fancy luxury ones downtown.
Is $1000 a month normal in other cities or even considered a steal for a 2 bedroom 2 bath? Oh absolutely, but this is Winston Salem. I was told that the price I’ve been paying this past year was way too high but this extra $150 is just head-scratching. How? Why? What on earth. I know Charlotte is worse but like, this isn’t Charlotte.
Yikes can I go on a tangent. Anywayyyyy, yes. I am mortified. Yep yep yep yep yep. Always saying a little toooooo much to people who don’t really need to know that much. Is he a good friend? yes. But he is also my ex and he doesn’t need shit like that dumped on him as I’m sure he has his own problems to deal with.
But it’s been done. It has been said. He was nice about it! I will let this feeling happen for as long as it needs to and then I will resume normal business. I will apologize in the morning and it will be fine. He’ll be cool about it like he always is.
However, there is some adrenaline in my system right now. Like, my mind is going wwwoooooosh all over the place.
I always used to be on my toes around my ex, even during the month and a half we dated. Even during everything that happened after that. He gave me soooo much social anxiety. I once held my pee in for like 4 hours hanging out with him because I was too afraid to move or say I had to go to the bathroom. But Jesus, I reallyyyyy liked him and I wanted to get to know him better and whelp, it’s several years later and I finally am getting over my social anxiety with him. Talking to him regularly has definitely helped.
Honestly, my social anxiety hasn’t been bad lately. I’m still reluctant to make phone calls, except at work. I’m doing so much better with calling people at work. That used to be my most hated task at the bookstore. I hated calling customers to give them bad news about their orders. I always tried to send out emails instead.
But I’ve been chatty with my coworkers and trying to establish “bonds” with them. Dave and Busters opened in the mall so I’m trying to slowly and low-key convince my coworker to go with me. She’s pretty cool. We actually have a lot in common but sadly we are both awkward introverts so it’s taken a year of working with each other to finally figure that out.
The coworker I really wanted to be friends with quit. I feel like we could have been pretty good friends because we have SO much in common and she definitely tried getting to know me on multiple occasions but my personality can be so unforgiving. I act uninterested in fear of being overly interested and IT IS FUCKING GREAT ((((((:
It’s also very possible that I may have had a tiny crush on her. Not like an OMG I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS PERSON type of crush. More like, she’s cute and quirky and I really think she’s cool but I have a boyfriend so these thoughts will stay subdued.
But I haven’t really felt socially anxious lately? And that’s been great. It makes my world a smidge more easier. Depression though? Still here. Always lurking. Always waiting for a moment to strike. The nice weather helps so much though. I’m still weighing pros and cons of medication and therapy in my current situation. I definitely want to put a lot more research and thought into it before I make any decisions. I just know that I want to be on some proper treatment path before seasonal depression hits again.
You know, I have the day off tomorrow. Originally I was going to stay in for most of the day. I was going to leave to pick up a package from the front office (because I bought the most “me” shoes ever”), but now I’m debating actually going out and doing something.
I kind of want to go downtown. That’s so far been my favorite part of this city. There is a brewery/bar that makes an amazing vegetarian burger and though I’m not vegetarian, it’s a fucking amazing burger. Right next to that brewery is a really cool store that sells local items and they have a huge selection of vintage clothes! I walked in out of curiosity a few weeks ago and fell in love with the atmosphere and just the general vibe of the place.
I’m now considering this because I just got an email (who sends emails after midnight?) from the metaphysical store downtown. There is apparently going to be a flash sale and while I don’t need new crystals, they had some really cool ones last time I was in there and hey, maybe this is the time to pick some new ones up.
This is all just a late night and too tired to be alive fever dream though. Honestly, I’ll probably just stay in but one of these days, I’ll do something fun. When I finally get this driving thing down, I’ll have as many fun days as I want because it just sounds like a hassle getting an uber there and back and walking around downtown (which is huge and not every street is entirely safe) by myself. Like the crystal store. It’s really only a ten minute walk but I’m a chicken, okay? I’ve never dealt with so many creeps in my life in any other city as I have here. Did that sentence even make sense? Probably not, I don’t care.
BUT I MIGHT SEE SUPERORGANISM SUNDAY. SO THAT WILL BE FUN.
I’m really hoping Zach will be up for it. I’m praying he will be. I really really really want to go. I’ve become so fond of this band. I’d be so happy to see them live. Also the venue is in a former mid-century car dealership so I’m dying to see it. Zach is the only person whose been around me often enough to know this but I LOVE mid-century modern design and architecture.
I also want a reason to wear fun make up and dress up. Like, this is an excuse to use crazy eyeshadow and glitter because the band is fairly eccentric.
We’ll see though. Zach was supposed to be driving back Saturday evening but his dad bought tickets to see some musician (Bob...S...something) in Virginia for Saturday evening so he’ll be driving back Sunday morning instead :/ It’s like a 4 hour drive from there to here so I don’t know if he’ll have the energy or motivation to drive 1.5 hours to Durham for a band he is only mildly interested in.
I really should just stay in tomorrow though. I could really use the time to answer the essay questions for my application for school and answer back to the advisor (that they already assigned me?). He just wants to go over the program details with me because it is a bit rigorous. I’m up for the challenge though. I need something productive to occupy my time with and I’ve had a good break these past 2 years.
#I literally talk to myself in these posts#also#I wrote this around 1 am#passed out#woke up around 4 am#wrote these tags#and hit post#sooo I'm going back to bed
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