#i knew dave most likely had red eyes but it was still fun to straight-up see one of em

[zincbotted]

homestuck is getting crazy

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #36/129

#36: I don’t know who I am without you / #129. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you.

It isn’t the first time Aaron comes to see her with flowers in hand, and it doesn’t make visiting her grave any easier, or any less painful.

Flowers became a thing early on, starting with their first date several months before. Aaron had been anxious in the hours leading up to it - distracted all day, letting his eyes linger on her a few seconds too long here and there. It’s clear something was up. He assumed Dave must have overheard him confirming with Jessica about picking Jack up from his playdate, and that he’ll pick him up from her place around nine. All day he’d dodged the carefully timed stares, a few subtle winks whenever Emily’s back was turned.

“Got a date?” Dave asked casually on their way out, much later that afternoon, keeping his eyes forward as the elevator doors closed. But he’d smiled, which suggests he definitely overheard, and has all but figured out why Aaron is leaving so uncharacteristically early.

Aaron plays dumb, scrambling for an excuse for his early departure, and manages something out about a friend being in town. Dave had simply laughed. “Emily likes flowers,” he’d said as Aaron held his briefcase with a slightly sweaty hand. “I hope you picked some out.”

The quirk of an eyebrow, and the amusement hidden in the subtle contours of Aaron’s face all but give him away, the exact reason now known. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dave.” It’s an attempt in vain.

“But you do, and before you even ask how, just know I have my ways.”

Aaron had never been happier to see elevator doors open. What he doesn’t tell Dave is that he’s had flowers figured out already, for a few days now.

He remembers that night - their first date - like it was yesterday; it’s never fully dissipated from his mind. She’d been wearing blue - cerulean, to be specific - and she blushed ever so slightly when he handed her the bouquet of Dahlias and told her she looked beautiful.

Their reservation (at a Tapas bar close to the National Mall) had mysteriously gotten deleted, leaving them without a table only after they arrived at the restaurant. Emily had laughed despite Aaron’s visible frustration, taking the whole thing in stride as she tucked her hand in his arm. Instead, they ended up walking around the Monuments and eating street tacos from a food truck wrapped in heavy coats. Despite the cold, it was light, fun, and as he dropped her off in front of her building, he’d kissed her - brief, but full, his lips on hers a promise of a second date sooner rather than later.

There was indeed a second date; this one to an antique bookstore in Alexandria followed by coffee on a chilly Sunday morning. The threat of snow later that afternoon hadn’t deterred them. Aaron brings her flowers again - lilies - and she’d held them to her nose for the briefest of seconds as the blush rose to her cheeks once more. The second date was three weeks after the first, thanks to a barrage of cases that seemed to multiply, one right after the other, at a relentless rate with little time for anything else, let alone any semblance of a personal life.  And yet, they picked up right where they left off, the same easy banter and familiarity that comes with years of knowing someone as well as they do. He kisses her again, this time bringing a hand to her hair and another around her back, pulling her in close. It’s not even a question if there will be a third date when they pull away, breathless.

Their third date was Valentine’s Day, and she’d come to his place for the first time in over a year, since the days after Foyet threatened to rip his family apart. Aaron bought roses - two dozen red ones - as cliché as it was, handing them to her when she’d arrived. She’d beamed as she shook the light dusting of snowflakes off her shoulders, apologizing for her lateness, murmuring that the flowers were beautiful. He’d planned on making her dinner but instead he’d taken her to bed, leaving their clothes scattered across the living room floor. Emily was beautiful beneath him; her long legs wrapped around his waist as he’d learned her, taking his time finding all the places that made her moan. Her fingers tangled in his hair when he’d kissed his way down the flat planes of her stomach and between her legs, her hands gripped his shoulders as he thrusted into her, she’d lowered herself down to press her chest against his, his arms wrapped around her as she rode him to completion with his own finish coming in the seconds after her own.

Aaron also ruined their dinner during their preoccupation - overcooked the steak and burnt the potatoes to a blackened crisp, rendering it all inedible. With a sheet wrapped around her chest, Emily had reached for her phone and ordered pizza, which they ate in bed straight out of the box. “The best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had,” she’d whispered in his ear much later, her lips smoothing down his jaw as she pushed him onto his back, a devious grin on her face. Hours later, he repeated her words right back to her, pressing kisses to her lips.

It all fell apart shortly after that.

Date number four was cruelly ripped right out of their hands as Emily slipped away, literally and figuratively, the threat of Ian Doyle becoming a reality. She’d withdrawn, becoming distant and even secretive, slipping into briefings late and sneaking clandestine glances at her phone throughout the day. Aaron had been oblivious to the truth (she hid that from all of them), but he knew something was direly wrong.

Two weeks after she cancelled their fourth date with a heaviness in her voice that culminated over the last few weeks, he heard the name Lauren Reynolds for the first time. And about ten days after that, he signed the paperwork that essentially rendered Emily Prentiss dead.

So now, Aaron always brings her flowers. It feels wrong not to, because he always has. This time he brings Irises; Emily likes those. She told him that once, back when he hung on every word she said, his brain absorbing every last detail of her to commit to memory. Now those memories come back and haunt him like a curse. The car door slams but he doesn’t hear it, and he adjusts the hood of his jacket and tucks his keys into his pocket. He keeps his head down, grateful for the soft rain that falls in the summer wind like a whisper as he maneuvers through the gate, stepping over the neat landscaping. Every step he takes brings him closer to her yet she’s never been further away from him, and he finally releases the breath he’s been holding when he sits down next to her headstone.

“Hi,” Aaron says softly, fumbling with the stems in his hands as he sets them down beside the ones he’d brought the other day, brushing his fingers over the cold marble headstone. “I miss you, you know. I’m sorry it’s been a few days. It was a hell of a week.” Being here is a familiar ritual, one that brings him an unexplainable bit of comfort and yet a profound sense of grief. It’s been four months since they buried an empty casket into the ground as she convalesced in the hospital. Four months since he explained to Jack with as much patience as he could muster that Emily had to go away for awhile, possibly forever, and calmly answered his son’s questions even as his own heart was shattering into pieces.

Aaron supposes it feels mildly silly, talking to someone who isn’t even there, spiritually or whatever, because what most don’t know is she’s not even dead.

She may as well be. Those were her words, not his. It’s what she said in the days after Boston, still too weak to travel but awake and fully cognizant, the impending reality looming in the distance. Aaron had sat at her side, as close as he could get without physically climbing into the bed with her, his hand a fixture in hers for the better part of the two weeks she’d spent there.

“These nurses are like drill sergeants,” Emily had groaned one afternoon after she’d taken a few laps around the floor, pushing a walker with Aaron hovering at her side, a protective hand on her back. It took nearly all of her energy; her eyelids had fluttered within minutes of returning to her bed.

“They’re supposed to help you get better, you know.” And while he can’t help but feel proud of her for how far she’s come, her returning strength is a reminder that soon enough she’ll vanish from their lives, unceremoniously, as if she never existed at all.

Her grave is the only place he feels close to her, as if she, wherever she is, might be there in some way too. It’s where Aaron talks to her, tells her the mundane things about life - the life that has seemingly paused since she left- anecdotes about Jack’s soccer team, Dave’s new car, every now and then he’ll mention a case. Sometimes it’s a haze of confusion, asking the questions he most likely will never get answers to, his voice breaking at the most simple, yet complicated of them all. Why? How?

Other days, it’s grief that courses through his veins and clouds his heart, like a vice grip around his windpipe that makes every intake of breath more painful than the last. They all feel her absence; a numbness has enveloped them all in the last couple of weeks especially. But he bears the pain of knowing the truth and being responsible for the secret they’ve held to keep her safe. Today is one of those days.

“I wish I could be angry with you,” he says, never taking his eyes off the headstone. “For what you put us through.” He’s tried that. Anger never lasts long, because Aaron sees her face in his mind, full of poorly concealed fear as he and JJ had passed over the dossier of new identities into her hands, signifying the beginning of the end.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you,” Aaron chokes through the mounting thickness in his throat. “It’s not the same without you. Nothing is.” His face is wet, and it’s not because of the rain. Most of his visits end this way, and he takes the long way back home to pull himself together. “We miss you. I miss you.”

It’s getting harder to breathe, harder to conceal the sobs that are coming like the stormcloud in the distance, and he buries his face in his hands to cry because there’s nothing left he can do. “I don’t know who I am without you, Emily.”

There’s a rustling in the trees behind him sometime later. If he closes his eyes he can almost hear her footsteps behind him, sure and steady. Aaron can’t bring himself to turn around because she won’t be there - she’s already gone.

“I love you,” he whispers, knowing he should have said it a long time ago.

[somedayonbroadway]

You mentioned a Sprace version? Well I'm always a slut for Sprace. Also, where can I find more/watch Nerve? Or read? I've never heard of it.

Nerve (Sprace) AU

Hi Anon! Sorry this took so long. So Nerve is a movie (it’s technically based on a book but they are very different). I think you can rent it on Amazon Prime, but that’s all I know of. It’s staring Emma Roberts and Dave Franco.

Since I already wrote out the outline, here’s a scene from it! Motorcycle Safety is what I like to call it. Please enjoy!

“Get to sixty miles per hour…” Spot read on his phone, tilting his head a bit.

Not quite believing that, Race leaned over the other boy’s shoulder. He tried not to let himself get caught up in the way Spot smelled or how strong his arms looked. He tried not to get too comfortable. After all, not many people in this insane game were willing to be helpful. Maybe Spot had done a nice thing for him, gotten him a tattoo he actually liked instead of some tacky thing that people around ask him about for the rest of his life only to find out he had no answer. No explanation.

This was just one night. This was just a stupid game. Spot was just a stranger.

“Wait, that’s it?” Race asked when he too read those words on the screen. “Just… get ta sixty on your bike?”

With a small shrug, Spot smirked at him. “Hey, I’m not complainin’,” he said, right as his phone chimed again. This time when he looked down, the smirk fell off of his face.

Race only caught a glimpse of that terrifying word before Spot put his phone down. “Wait, I’m sorry, did that just say ‘blindfolded’?” he asked, shaking his head and scoffing. “I’m sorry, I’m out,” the boy decided, starting to walk away.

But Spot caught his arm. “Wait! C’mon, I can’t do this by myself,” he smiled charmingly, pulling Race a bit closer. Race still looked extremely hesitant. So Spot tilted his head. “You said it yourself, this is the first time you’ve felt alive in a long time… I know you’ve got more fire in you than that,” he coaxed.

The blond boy scoffed and looked down. “Look, I ain’t no daredevil,” he shrugged. “I’m just a kid in way over his head—“

“I need you ta help me navigate! You’d be in control,” Spot insisted. “C’mon,  you trust me, I trust you… you get ta live up to the name ‘Racer’...” he tried to seduce.

Rolling his eyes a bit, the boy chewed on his bottom lip. “I had fun t’night,” he stated. “Thanks… for everything…” he breathed.

Spot stepped just a bit closer to him. Not quite close enough. Race could feel his heart ready to pound out of his chest. “Stay,” he asked in a breath. “J’st ta see what else happens.”

Just as Race might’ve argued again, might’ve actually listened to his brothers telling him how big of an idiot he was being in his head, a very loud, black, dirty truck pulled up beside them. A boy jumped out. He was huge, tatted up with what looked to be a glass eye in placement of what would’ve been his left eye. He had a smirk on his face. “‘Sup, guys! Racer, Racer! Let’s see you do something actually amazing,” he laughed, shoving a large bumper sticker into Race’s chest. The blond only caught it out of instinct. “Just hold that up for me, blondie,” he smirked, snapping a picture of a confused looking Race with the sticker in his hands.

Then the boy kissed his fingers and gave them a peace sign with his hand. “See you at the finals, ‘Your Highness’!” he mocked, sticking his tongue out before he jumped back in his car and drove away.

Race looked to Spot, still holding the sticker. “Do you know that guy?” he asked.

Spot sighed and shook his head. “No…” he muttered, but neither of them were very convinced. Still, he looked back at Race pleadingly. “Race, do this with me? All ya gotta do is say yes, n’ you have total control…” he encouraged.

And for just a moment Race got lost in those amazing brown eyes and then suddenly he was on the back of a motorcycle, clinging to Spot so tightly he wondered if the other boy could even breathe. He was staring at a red light, waiting for an inevitable change to happen. There were two minutes on the clock. Just two minutes. To agonizing minutes.

Spot glanced back at him and let out a breath. “You can do this,” he encouraged before he pulled down the shield of his helmet with the sticker Race had been holding stuck to the front of it. New York F***ing City it said.

Race squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. And when he opened them, “Okay… green,” he breathed, wishing he had been man enough to say no to this. The motorcycle started rolling forward. Race couldn’t breathe. “Okay, okay,” he muttered again and again.

“You gotta talk to me, Racer! What’s happening?”

Everything was shaky. Spot wasn’t driving straight. Race peeked out over his shoulder. It was a blur of cars and lights. “Cab on your right!” he called, noting that Spot was drifting towards it.

“On my right? Or go ta my right?”

“No! It’s on your right, go left!” Race cried as they got closer to the taxi.

“What?”

They were going to crash. Race knew they were going to crash. He was going to die, they were both going to die. “Hey!” the cab driver yelled. “You have a sticker on your helmet!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Race screamed, hitting the cab. “Left, left, left!” he tried to instruct in a panicked tone. So Spot went left. And now they were headed for some trees that divided the road. “Too far left!”

Spot’s knuckles were turning white. “What?!” he cried.

Race let out a panicked scream and then leaned to the right, trying to brace himself. But Spot got back on balance immediately. “Oh my god!” Race cried.

“Okay! Okay! That worked!” Spot yelled. “Just keep doin’ that!”

Race gripped onto Spot tighter. “What? Lean?” he asked.

“Yes! Lean!” Spot agreed. “You are in control!”

That was the most terrifying thing Race was sure he’d ever heard. “Okay… okay… next lights green…” he instructed hesitantly. “We’re at thirty! We’re halfway!” he stated.

“Good! That’s good! What’s next? We clear?” Spot asked.

Race’s heart plummeted when he saw the next light turning yellow. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. “Next light is…” he looked down at the clock. They wouldn’t make it. Not if they slammed on the breaks. “Green!” he lied as the thing turned red. “Go faster! Faster!” He put a hand on top of Spot’s, trying to pump the gas harder.

Race screamed as they were almost hit. Well, the person driving that giant black van hated them. Amazing.

“Okay!” Spot yelled. “We still clear?” he asked.

Race nodded against his shoulder. “Yes! We’re clear!” he called. Only he didn’t see the cab rolling over for the woman on their right. He gasped and leaned to the left immediately, screaming as he did so. That’s when a minivan drove up beside them. They were screaming for them. “Whoa! Racer! Brooklyn! We love you!”

Spot gave them a shaky, quick wave. He couldn’t even see them. “Love you too!” he yelled. “Time check!”

“Thirty seconds! We’re almost there!” Race yelled. “We’re at fifty!” He guided them into a tunnel, leaning to avoid the other cars. Some people were honking, others were recording them. Race didn’t have eyes for any of them. “Faster, Spottie! Faster!” he screamed. “We’re clear, just go!”

Spot gripped painfully at the handles. “Count it down, pretty boy!”

“Fifty five…” Race started. “Fifty seven, fifty eight, fifty nine, sixty! Whoa! We did it!” he cried.

Immediately, Spot pushed the shield of his helmet up. “Whoa!” he cried, before his eyes widened. The road was ending. “Oh shit!” he screamed, clutching onto the breaks. “Hold on! Hold on!”

“Oh god!” Race cried.

Spot managed to come to a stop just before they crashed into the building in front of them. And he was breathing hard. “Oh my god, we just did that,” he muttered. “Holy shit! We just did that! You just did that!” he laughed.

It took a moment for the terror to fade away, for Race to start laughing. “Oh my god… my brothers gonna kill me…” he laughed. “We just did that!”

Spot helped them off of the bike and Race stumbled into him. They were both shaking and suddenly, as Spot took his helmet off, they were just staring at each other. It felt like an eternity before they finally allowed themselves to close the distance.

Race melted into the kiss.

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

A bad kept secret ( Dave Snake Sabo x reader)

A/N: Requested by this anon. Sorry for the wait, I hope you will like it !

Living with a band sounded so cool, right? Sure you got to visit plenty of cities, had fun to so many parties and if you were lucky, you got to meet some other famous musicians, but not everything was peaches and cream.

It was weird to admit but living with Skid Row was a job too, not only because you were Doc’s helper, but because first you were the band’s best friend. So you had to make sure that they basically survived, you took care of them when they were sick or drunk, you made sure they didn’t kill each other while they fought and all of that, so yeah it was very challenging.

But the most difficult thing was to pretend that you didn’t like Dave Sabo, or Snake as everybody called him. He was one of the most responsible out of the boys, and usually you two would be the “mom and the dad” of the band, taking care of the boys and listening to their problems, and many times you two relaxed together on the couch, watching a movie and enjoy the peace.

He was funny, sweet and kind, but also reserved and you never understood if he was into you or not, so you never had the guts to tell your true feelings to him. But you were also scared that a rejection could make things awkward between you and him the band, resulting in a weird tension between the band too, so you just decided to shove your feelings down and pretend to not have a crush on him or to be hurt every time a groupie was flirting with him.

You were at a party, sitting on a couch with a cocktail in your hand. You were talking to a random girl, probably some rocker’s girlfriend, you were not sure because there were so many people that you could get lost. She seemed nice though, and also she was kind enough to talk to you most of the night and stay at your side.

“I know what it is like to not know many people, darling. Don’t worry, give it a couple of months and you will have tons of friends!” She said with a smile, sipping from her drink.

You were nodding absently, not because you hated her but because your eyes for fixed on a certain guitarist who was talking to his childhood best friend. You were lost in his beautiful smile, wishing so bad that you could go to him and tell how he made you feel, how much you liked him. If only things weren’t complicated and you weren’t such a coward.

You decided to ask her to dance a bit, just to get distracted, when you felt someone tugging your dress lightly. Already rolling your eyes, you thought about what to say to the usual creep who tried to flirt with you, but instead you met with Scotti’s worried face.

“Y/N, Rob doesn’t feel good. I don’t know what to do, you said to call you when things got bad. This seems quite bad isn’t it?” He slurred a bit, visibly drunk.

You moved your eyes and saw your favorite drummer holding is stomach in pain, his face getting a weird shade of green. This didn’t look good at all.

“C’mon, help me take him to the bathroom! Rob, can you hold up for a little longer, please?” You pleaded, but the boy didn’t seem too convinced about it.

Luckily the house was huge and had an empty bathroom, so that you could have your privacy. You three made it safely to your destination, even if Scotti was not very helpful, maybe a bit too buzzed to walk perfectly straight.  As soon as you closed the door, the poor drummer clung to the toilet, while empyting his stomach, you put his hair up, encouraging him to let it all out.

“It’s okay sweetheart, let it out. Did you take anything you shouldn’t have?” You asked like a mother-hen but Rob simply shook his head.

“I told him those mayo sandwiches were not good! He kept ate them like an idiot!” Scotti remarked bitterly.

Rob had a sad pout now, looking very offended, even if you were glad he was not puking anymore. But you didn’t want your drunk friend crying because your other drunk friend was being an asshole, so you hugged him close.

“Don’t mind Scotti, Rob, he is just a dick right now. You are not an idiot and sandwiches can be really tempting sometimes!” You comforted him with a smile, which made him grin too.

“ Now I get why Dave likes you. You are such a sweetheart!” The drummer said, resting his head on your shoulder.

Your brain stopped working, as well as your heart. Did he really say that David likes you? But what “likes” really mean? As a friend? Romantically? Fuck, you were so confused, happy and scared at the same time.

Scotti, who seemed to be lost in his drunk world until that moment, sobered up instantly, running towards Rob a putting a hand on his mouth.

“You’re a fucking idiot! We promised him to not tell Y/N anything!” He said in a desperate tone, still slurring.

Now you were so confused. Who was this “him”? Was it Dave? And why he didn’t want you to know he liked you?

“What are you talking about guys? What should you tell me?” You asked, but before they could answer the door swung open and two familiar boys got in, closing it soon after.

Sebastian and Rachel stumbled in the bathroom and you noticed the bassist had bloody knuckles, while Sebastian was heavily intoxicated. It was so exasperating how you couldn’t catch a break this night, especially when you needed to know things.

“Sebastian, take Rob here and make sure he doesn’t cry. I’ll take care of Rachel, but what the fuck happened to him?”

“It is always Sebastian’s fault. He picks up a fight and I have to punch people with him!” Rachel replied angrily.

“Well, then just don’t take part in it!” You said, while looking for a first aid kit in the cabinet.

“I can’t when they insult me too!”

You rolled your eyes and made him sit down, taking care of his bruised knuckles. Rob’s words were still floating in your mind, and you were unsure if just let it be, or trying to talk to the drummer about it.

“Hey man, why are you crying?” Sebastian questioned, holding Rob in an awkward hug.

“I spilled out Snake’s secret to Y/N”

“ Oh do you mean Snake having a crush on Y/N?” He covered his mouth immediately but both Rachel and Scotti groaned loudly.

“For fuck’s sake you two idiots!” Scotti cursed and you felt even more confused than before.

A part of you knew you couldn’t trust of four drunk idiots, this could be a joke or they simply thought he had a crush or any other thing, but also you hoped it was the truth and you could finally kiss that damn idiot you loved so bad.

You needed to talk to them and understand what was going on, before going nuts. However as soon as you started to speak the door opened again and this time Snake got in.

“Are you doing a secret party without inviting me?” He joked with a smile.

“Nah man, I had a fight and Rob was vomiting. I hear there will be strippers though, so we are getting out of here!” Rachel shot a look to Scotti, and literally dragged Sebastian out with him. The other guitarist led slowly Rob outside, even if he wanted to stay.

Dave laughed a bit, then he lighted up a cigarette. You couldn’t help but looking at him, feeling more and more anxious because you wanted answers so bad, but you were too afraid to ask so you just kept staring at him.

After a while he turned around and smirked at you, finishing his cigarette and getting closer. You felt your heart doing somersaults, so you tried your best to keep a straight face.

“Do you need something  Y/N?”

“ The guys told me that you liked me. I have no idea what that means and how they were drunk, but fuck I’d lie if I part of me doesn’t want that to be true because I-I have a crush on you Snake! And I’m so scared of telling you this because I don’t want to ruin our relationship or the band’s but I can’t keep it anymore. So it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, just please let’s not make things awkward between us.” You blurted out quickly, feeling your chest tightening and your cheeks turning red.

You were just so scared, you wanted to close your eyes and wait until it was over. However Dave gently stroked your cheek and made you look him into his eyes.

“They were right Y/N, I like you and very much too. I told them one time when you were not on tour with us, I was drunk and a mess so I confessed everything and they promised me to keep the secret. I was as scared as you, I didn’t want you to feel weird around us because I had a crush on you. But I looked at you every time and I wanted to kiss you so bad!”

You couldn’t help but smile, looking at him surprised. It sounded too good to be truth, but there he was Dave Sabo telling you he loved you back, staring at you with eyes full of love.

“Does this mean we are together now?” You asked, holding his hand.

He pulled your wrist, making you getting closer, then he kissed you on the lips. It was a slow sweet kiss and when you took separated, he was grinning widely.

“Did that answer your question, love?”

You kissed him again, just to get lost in his arms after.

Meanwhile the rest of Skid Row were trying their best to not make any noise as they kept listening to you and Dave talking in the bathroom.  

[brelione]

Detention (JJ Maybank x reader)

As you walked down the hallway you thought back to how you had gotten detention in the first place.You had always been seen as average.Average grades,an average sized house between The Cut and Figure Eight and as far as you knew you were pretty average looking as well.You werent Sarah Cameron but you werent ugly either.Just average.You were an average person with your ups and downs,having a bad attitude and a tendency to curse a lot.You had never been in detention before though.You had been walking to second period,heavy books and binder in your backpack.You had only been half awake and not even thinking straight yet.

You heard some gremlin looking boy call your best friend a whore.It was all a blur as your fist collided with his jaw,causing him to bite through his lip and send a river of blood down his chin and neck.Your half asleep self didnt think that was enough,your leg moving upwards and your foot kicking him right in the dick.A teacher broke up the fight,shouting at you and giving you two weeks in detention.The principal tried calling your mother but her being the shitty person she was...well she was long gone somewhere in Florida.She had left you a mayonaise jar full of five dollar bills and quarters with a messy note saying that she’d be gone for a couple of months.It didnt really matter anyways,not like she had been around before then.You could just stop going to school if you wanted too,no one could force you to go without her or your father around.

But something motivated you everyday.You got to see him.Of course he skipped most classes in the bathroom anyways but you’d see him in the halls sometimes and that was enough to get you out of bed everyday.As you dragged your feet,sneakers squeaking you decided that detention wasnt worth it.You couldnt really call your best friend your best friend anymore.You hadnt talked to her in weeks since she had become obsessed with her new boyfriend.She had never been the best person.She was smart,pretty,funny and everyone loved her.She was everything you wanted to be,the one person that could make you feel disgusting by just looking at her.You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your loose denim jacket when you felt someone flick the back of your head.

You turned around to see a tall,handsome blonde with blue eyes and a red baseball cap on his head.It was him.JJ Maybank.Amazing surfer,funny,attractive,pothead and your ex bestfriend.He had a brown paper bag in his hand,the paper covered in dark splotches of oil. “The buses left like 10 minutes ago,dude.”He grinned.You rolled your eyes. “I got detention.”You told him,continuing your walk down the long hallway.He smirked. “What has the pogue princess done that shes got detention?”He asked,smile widening at how annoyed he was making you.You huffed. “Fuckin’ punched a kid in the face and now ive got detention for the next two weeks.”You explained.He bit his lip. “Damn,who knew you got a dark side?”He laughed,ruffling your hair and messing it up as you approached the empty classroom.It was empty besides Mrs Dave,who,in your words,the top bitch of the school. 

“Afternoon,Linda.”JJ grinned to himself,sitting indian style on top of one of the four desks in the room.The smelly rat rolled her eyes before walking out of the classroom and locking the door behind her. “DID YOU WANT A FRY?”JJ shouted.You just sat there in shock. “She’s not gonna watch us or take our phones away or something?”You asked in disbelief.He grinned,remembering you were a detention virgin.He pulled out three cheeseburgers,a Mc Chicken and a large fry,placing the food on the desk in front of his ankles before crumpling up the paper bag and throwing it across the room. “You watch way too many disney channel movies,sweetheart.”He bit into a burger.You had fond memories of disney channel movies.You’d sit on your couch with an ipad in front of you,playing either Radio Rebel or a really bad musical.

You two would make fun of it and how bad the acting was.You sat at a desk that was a good five feet away from him,leaning back in your chair and playing around with your fingers and rings. “So youre just not gonna talk to me?”He asked.You sighed. “I really dont have anything to talk about.”You lied.All you wanted to do was to complain about everything to him.About your shitty mom,your shitty friends,your shitty life.But you couldnt.You had let yourself drift apart from him.You didnt try to keep the friendship or even get him back once you lost him.JJ smirked. “We dont have to talk.We’ll be in here for hours....alone.”He winked,blushing a bit.As much as he hated to admit it,he had a crush on you since 8th grade.

He’d sat through shitty musicals and baked cookies with you and brought you a cup of hot coffee during a rain storm because you said once that “Coffee hits different when it rains.”.He just wanted you to be happy.Thats all he ever wanted.When you guys started to drift apart he didnt try to keep the friendship alive.He thought you were distancing yourself on purpose.He didnt try to get you back either.He thought that you being away from him made you happy,so he had let it happen.You bit your lip after he said that,face turning bright red. “Shut the fuck up.”You mumbled as you buried your face in your hands.He smiled,dimples popping. “You’re so cute when you blush.”He informed you. “Stop it.”You mumbled,biting the inside of your cheek.He hopped off his desk,kneeling in front of your desk and resting his chin on his forearm.He smelled of weed and the salty ocean.You didnt even look up from your hands.

You could feel him staring at you with a cocky smirk on his face. “Am I embarrassing you right now?”He asked.You hummed,feeling even more awkward with every second.You werent used to people flirting with you.No,that was a lie.A lot of people flirted with you.Rafe,Topper,John B. for a while.But JJ Maybank had never flirted with you.Not since 8th grade.His hands grabbed your wrists gently,pulling your hands away from your face.You looked away from him,still embarrassed. “Hi.”He grinned. “Hey.”You replied.He hadnt let go of your hands,looking up at you.You just stared at eachother for a while before he slowly leaned closer to you until his forehead was against yours. “What are we doing,J?”You asked him.So much had changed about the boy in a matter of two years.He’d grown a good four inches and somehow became even more reckless.It was almost like you were talking to a stranger.

 “Why arent we close anymore,princess?I never wronged you.”He mumbled as he traced his thumb over your bottom lip.You let out a small,shaky breath. “I know you didnt...things just-just changed.”You mumbled,trying to focus on what you were saying and not the beautiful boy in front of you.He smiled. “So lets change things again.”He suggested,getting even closer to the point that your lips were brushing against his.You gulped. “How did you get detention?”You asked.You felt him grin. “Got caught skipping in the bathroom.”He mumbled.You hummed in response. “Have you missed me,princess?”He asked.Your heart was thumping so hard that you could feel it within your skull. “Of course I have.”You replied.He grinned before closing the almost non existent gap between you two.Your hand was touching his jaw lightly,his fingers laced in your hair.

It felt so natural,almost like it was meant to be as cheesy as it sounded.You pulled away giggling.JJ frowned. “What?”He asked. “Nothing-its just funny to me.”You answered.You just had your first kiss with your ex bestfriend in detention.Did any of it make sense?No.Did that stop you from kissing him again?No.You leaned forward,kissing the blonde gently and removing his hat in the process so you could run your fingers through his fluffy hair.The rest of detention was full of kisses,eating fries and doodling on the white board.He made you explain all your bracelets,kissing your knuckles and teasing you about how you had never been kissed until today. “You wanna get out of here?”He asked.You raised your eyebrows. “We’re stuck in here for another hour.”You reminded him.He walked open to the door,swinging it open. “This lock hasnt worked in years.”He laughed,wrapping an arm around you.

He practically dragged you down the hall.You were really tired.Probably because you had pulled an all nighter.But you got an adrenaline rush soon enough when you heard the sounds of high heels on tile,sprinting for dear life and squealing as you sprinted out of the school.When you stepped out of the building the sunlight beamed down on you.JJ stared at you for a moment.With the way the light was hitting you,making your hair shine and your eyes squint he swore you had never looked more beautiful.You had somehow gotten your best boy back from punching another boy in the face.Kind of crazy how the universe works.

[painterofhorizons]

Floating Day WIP - Unicorn Edition

@sheeplessthings so after breaking our hearts with plotting the LIFE chapters, I thought about how to make that up with a little snippet that ain’t drama. And because it is one of my all time favourite WIPs, how about a snippet of the Garcia gifts Alex a sprakling unicorn dildo and Alex is mildly buffled about it-story? Sorry for always bringing up the sex toy story, but it is much less PG-18 and much more hilarious than it sounds (okay, it also IS PG-18, but not in this snippet).

Have something to chuckle about. How about Dave and Alex going to a sex shop, which - to quote Alex - is the craziest shit they have done together (Dave would argue about that, most definitely)?

(Tagging you as well @chyrstis because it might make you laugh :D)

They had just entered the store when Alex leaned over to Dave and muttered quietly “This… isn’t exactly how I imagined it.”

Dave laughed. “Is that so?” With a surpressed smile #frozen to the corners of his lips he added “By the way, you don’t have to whisper, right?”

Alex cleared her throat, shooting him a somewhat annoyed, somewhat amused and somewhat embarrassed look. “Right. Of course not. I know, right? And I have no idea what you are even talking about.”

They had hardly been here for ten seconds and Alex wasn’t sure this could become more embarrassing at any point. She didn’t even know why it gave her so many unwelcome emotions at all, like - she was the least prude person she knew? And if she would be here with Tonks or Garcia, it would probably just be really fun and silly and -

No. Just imagining being here with Garcia gave her a stroke. But with Tonks? Fun. Totally fun. No doubt about that. With Dave though? Maybe that put a little too much unexpected pressure on her. Not only being here, but being here for the first time under the careful watch of her husband, who knew her better than she knew herself.

Dave could read her just like he always could read her. “Relaxe” he whispered. “And if you don’t want-”

“Shut up and let’s - yah. Whatever we are doing.”

Alex took a breath and told herself not to act out shy in here. There was literally not a single reason for that, right? So she could as well try to enjoy it. Considering she was generally someone who liked shopping as a leasure activity… Which she definitely did not. Part of her still did not see why they were here at all, but if it made Dave happy, she would give it a shot nevertheless.

At second sight, the shop still looked very different to what the part of her brain had imagined that had thought about it. This place was super straight and clean with white being the dominating colour of everything but the actual goods of demand. And still it made a rather welcoming and warm impression on her, maybe because of the cleanliness the place withheld. White walls, white straight furniture, nothing playful or pink or red - but it did not give the location a sterile feeling. It looked… classy. Even the toys that Alex could see were well chosen in their appearance, not too many different colours, not to speak of any really screaming colours. In the end, this place was the complete opposite of the intensely eye shocking thing Garcia had given her with best intentions.

With a smirk, Dave sideeyed her. “While we’re at it. Where did you think I would take you when we made this plan?”

Alex frowned, not getting how he could even ask that. “I don’t know, like - I mean I never thought any of this would happen between us, okay? Now that you ask and I think about it, yes, this is probably exactly where I thought you would take me, like, if I had ever thought about it before which I did not have so stop asking such dumbass questions.”

Another chuckle escaped Dave.

Alex’ sarcastic undertone stayed with them for a little while, while she tried to getting used to the situation. “Great. Awesome. So, now that we’re here, what do we do? Is there a directive for shopping in a place like this?”

“I strongly doubt that.”

“Great. Then go and lead the way or something.” Alex gestured wildly at no specific direction. “And just for the record, this is the craziest shit we have ever done, okay?”

Dave bit back a response. Considering all the things they had done, said and seen since they knew each other, he would indeed very much argue with Alex on this one. But not right now, and it was very amusing to see this quite unexpected side of Alex.

[mrsdobrik]

Not Clickbait - Chapter 28

You can read this as a oneshot about a prank David tried to pull on Y/n going wrong. This is for all the angst loving people out there. 😢😢😢

Halloween was upon them. As you may know David’s favorite holiday has been Halloween ever since he first moved to L.A. I mean, endless parties, drunk Zane, maybe even a spooky bit or two. It was the best time of the year to vlog. But the thing David enjoyed the most that time of year was scaring the shit out of his friends and this year he had a new person in his life he could scare. And of course he had a plan… he knew that if he tried anything he had done in the vlogs she would know right away so he had to go above and beyond. 

David had invited the whole squad over to his house for a small gathering, they were all in on it.  The party was going great until David went into his room with Jason.

“Jason, stop! You’re going to regret this tomorrow and you’ll come begging for forgiveness”

“No, I won’t David! I am fucking done with your fucking bullshit! I am going to expose all of your fucking secrets, people are going to finally fucking know the real David Dobrik!” Jason’s screams filled the living room. 

“Fine! Go ahead, no one is going to care about a fat old man, your career will be over the moment you cross that fucking door!” David retorted.

“Oh my god! I’ve never heard them talk to each other like that” Y/n whispered to Natalie who stood beside her “Do you know what happened?”

“Something about the podcast numbers” Natalie replied looking sad.

Jason came out of the room looking completely red in the face and started heading for the door. David followed him and said

“That’s right! Go back to being the fucking no good scumbag I pulled out of the trash four years ago! It’ll be fun to watch Marny take your fucking kids away!” David yelled.

Jason turned around, grabbed David’s 10 million button and threw it straight to his head. The award hit David hard before falling to the ground and shattering into a million pieces. When David turned around to face Y/n his head was covered in blood, as was the hand he was pulling away from the wound. 

Y/n ran to David’s side and watched helplessly as everyone reached out for their cameras. 

“What the fuck are you all doing? He is fucking bleeding and all you are doing is reaching for your stupid cameras? He could be seriously hurt!” Y/n yelled as she kneeled next to David who had sat on the floor and looked like he was about to pass out.

“I’m going to call an ambulance and get a towel to stop the bleeding!” Nat said as she ran out of the scene. 

“Dave, are you ok? Do you feel like you are going to pass out?” Y/n said holding his head to her chest. At that point she could feel tears starting to sting her eyes. 

David wasn’t answering which only made Y/n more desperate. 

“What the fuck Jason??? How could you throw that at him like that? You could have killed him! He is your fucking friend!!” Y/n raged as she felt tears streaming down her face. 

David noticed she was crying and decided to call it off. He had gone too far. 

“Babe, it’s okay, I’m okay..” David started saying before she cut him off.

“No, you are not David! You are bleeding!” She sobbed. 

“Babe, it’s a prank. I’m sorry, it went too far. I’m sorry.” He said hoping she wouldn’t be too mad. There was a long silence before she spoke.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!! How can you be so cruel?? How could you do that to me?? You are a fucking child. I’m done. You don’t care about anyone but yourself!!! I don’t want to ever see you again!! Don’t call me, don’t fucking text me!! You are a fucking psycopath!! Get fucked!!” She yelled as she walked to the couch and grabbed her stuff. 

“Y/n come on! It was a prank! Please don’t leave! I didn’t mean for it to go that far!!!” David started pleading. 

“You are nothing but a selfish brat who doesn’t give a fuck about anyone's feelings so now I won’t give a fuck about yours. Bye David.” She hissed and started walking to the door. 

“Y/n please, please!! I’m sorry!!” He begged as a few tears started falling down his face. 

“Who is scared now, huh??” She said with a huge shit eating grin extending across her face. “You made me cry, I made you cry. I think we are even.” She said walking up to him and planting a sweet kiss on his cheek. Everyone in the room started laughing and cheering as they loosened up after genuinely falling for Y/n’s speech. 

“Oh my fucking god!! She is just as crazy as he is!!” Zane exclaimed.

“She is fucking perfect for you!!” Jason added patting David on the back.

“Babe that was so fucking mean…” David said wiping the few tears on his face away. 

“I guess we are made for each other then, cause you weren’t too sweet either.” She replied hugging him.

“You are an outstanding actress! I genuinely thought we would never see you again!” Josh congratulated her.  

“Thanks! I just knew if I didn’t get him back right then I wouldn’t have the courage to do it later.” She said, one of her arms still wrapped around his waist comforting him.

[cloveroctobers]

PRIYA PRASHAD —

IG info/bio : @/misspriprashd | 800k followers | for 2020 standards, I still look amazing 💋!! for business inquires visit: priyaprashadestate.com

29 (30) years old

Born in London, raised in Manchester

Parents are from Bengaluru, India. Mother is a pharmacist while her father is an engineer

Probably has an older brother named Pranav who resides in India with his own family AND he’s a neurosurgeon—leaving Priya to always feel like she’s not good enough or she’s not living up to her parents‘ expectations

She has a good relationship with her brother, more so than with her own father. Pranav never makes her feel like she’s less than and encourages her to always live her life the way she feels is best for her, despite the way their parents feel

Real estate agent, most days she enjoys the job and other days she feels like throwing in the towel. Of course the field is competitive and Priya has no issue taking risks in life and this job is no different

The agency she works for is majority male dominanted and only has about 5 women, including priya that work there. Yet they won’t speak on how the women make—if not the most sales + their pay isn’t equal at all

She was put on leave for speaking up about this to the head agent, and is thinking about starting her own agency because she can do so much better than the shit treatment she’s faced— not only in the work place but also from her family

Lives the life of Luxury, at least that’s what it seems like according to her instagram— with her traveling, which is never truly a vacation since she’s still working to close deals with clients wherever she goes

Feels lonely whenever she goes home. Truly wants somebody to love and for them to do the same in return. Whenever she speaks to her niece and nephew, she aches to start a family

Sure the agency she works for isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, but it gets the bills payed and she’s able to afford nice things. But what else is there? And who can she share it with?

Had a childhood bunny who her father accidentally left out in its cage on their deck one summer when they left for a family weekend trip to london— leaving Priya heartbroken & never wanting a pet ever again

Does the best winged eye-liner, but prefers eyelash extensions over it

Once tried to thread her entire body the night before her prom by herself, resulting into a serve allergic reaction?!!

Used to do henna on the girls in school for a hefty price, convincing most of them it’ll look just like her own, even though her cousins would be the ones to do her henna

Finally met Hannah at Bobby x mc’s wedding & bonded over fragrances, Hannah showed her collection of vintage crystal glasses that held her special floral scents

Priya loves to smell good, like fruit and has over 6 different perfumes that she alternates between but her signature is a roll on oil called p*ssy (if you know, you know)

Loves waterfalls & summer

Favorite colors are orange & yellow

Won second place in a spelling bee but can pretty much spell anything right off the dome, even if she’s tipsy, she rarely fails

She’s 100% Sex posi bby!

Is subscribed to an advice column, when she feels like she’s bothering mc, Chelsea, or Marisol she goes back to the column for help

Aquarius? Or Gemini? Hm.

Update: Aquarius sun + Gemini moon + Leo rising

Bonds with Chelsea quite a bit since they have an artistic eye for open spaces, usually watches house hunters international together when they have sleepovers

Often takes girl trips with both Chelsea & Marisol, those are her girls!

Once dated a millionaire, her mother was pissed when they broke up. She was sure he was going to ask for her daughter’s hand in marriage

Priya would have been too if things were different. If she didn’t have a miscarriage & later finding out that if she wanted to have children, she wouldn’t be able to carry. It wasn’t just about $, the guy generally didn’t care for her either. She was just for show, for fun. Priya was tired of “relationships” like that. She’s experienced it all

Yet she ended up in Cyprus for work, and Felix so happened to be there too. Promoting or whatever it is that he does, and when drinks get going, her alter ego comes out & she’s inviting him back to her air bnb

“You fucking didn’t.” Marisol stated first on the three-way phone call.

Priya hardly ever lied about things she’s done but she wished she would have lied about that. She had the evidence to prove it happened, plus Felix thought it would be cool to post some pics of their Rendezvous, her face wasn’t in it but she knew her body

“Oh my days! How was it babe?!” Chelsea clasped her hands together, genuinely curious, even though she thought Felix was a bit of a knob.

“I think he’s gained some experience since the show.”

“...I’ve threw up in my mouth just a bit there, Priya.” Marisol gags.

Priya still felt the same about Felix. He was just a bit of fun and although it was a little bit hazy, she could remember majority of it. But was she doing to Felix what every guy was doing to her? Everyone deserved love but her head was telling her, he was young and didn’t want what she wanted. She was younger once too and she lived it up

Finds herself reminiscing over Ibrahim, I feel like they’re end game. She talks to him every now and then.

She DOESNT talk to Noah or hope, removed both of them from her life and do not follow them on any of her socials. She’s moving forward

Made a friend in Arjun and her parents automatically believe they’re destined to be and want them to marry, which is laughable since he’s now dating Elijah— although Elijah is not as open about their relationship

Believes she’s more than just a pretty face and hopes someone else can see that too.

Advocate for dark skin south Asian appreciation

Goes to strip clubs, either gender it doesn’t matter

Drives a red car and always keeps it waxed 😉

Has naturally curly hair but likes it straight + no longer using semi-permanent red dye in her hair...baby steps

Has a large stash of jewelry from multiple generations on her mom’s side locked away in a safe

Her favorite dish is Chana masala & tuna tartare

Listens to a lot of Meg the stallion (ah!) , Miraa May, Dounia, Amber Mark, Snoh Aalegra, Alicia Keys, Solange, toro y moi, James Blake, & childish gambino

Crushing on drake (*cue Soulja boy yelling here lmao) , zayn, Dave east & Rihanna!

Her anthem — Qveen Herby, “BDE”

[eatsleepandsupernatural]

Saved - Chapter Six

Pairings: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Some mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 2000ish

Tags: @goddessofmischiefs @akshi8278 @flutistbyday2020

A/N: Hi Guys! Hope you’re all staying safe! Here’s chapter 6 for you to enjoy. I kept it light (changed the ending a little) because I’m not sure when I’ll next get to posting. As of next Wednesday, I start back with online classes. I’ll keep writing in my spare time (please send me request, I love to fill them!). Once I have worked out how much time I need to put aside for class, I’ll see if I can add an uploading schedule for Saved. 

Saved Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

   "I want to take you out tonight." 

   You whipped your head away from the dishes you washing and spun around to meet your Alpha's lazy gaze. He looked as handsome as always, leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his chest, accentuating his strong muscles. The sight of him made your stomach flip.

   You were shocked, to say the least. It had been over a month since Dean had brought you back to the bunker and with the exception of the short daily stroll he would take you on, you hadn't stepped out the front door since. Not to mention the intense dominating behaviour he had been exhibiting. For the first few days after you arrived back at the bunker, Dean kept you in his room, surrounded by his scent, barely letting you leave his side. Half the time he spent scenting you, his head buried in your neck to make sure you were still there. You understood his need to be close to you, so you didn't complain, but you certainly weren't use to the constant contact and were relieved when the Alpha's anxiety eased. The second week you were allowed out of his room, and you spent a lot of time watching movies with Jack in Sam's bedroom. You weren't sure if you were amused or frustrated when Dean's head would appear around the doorframe every twenty minutes. 

   You deserved the Alpha's distrust after the stunt you pulled, and you didn't think he was going to change his attitude anytime soon. You narrowed your eyes as you attempted to read his mind, you were curious as to why the sudden change in plans. Despite his efforts to appear nonchalant, you could see fear and curiosity in his eyes that he failed to hide. Scared that you might run away again, curious to find out if you would maybe? You wouldn't. 

   "Um, sure." You remembered to reply and turned back to the plate you were washing. "Where are we going?" 

   A warm hand grabbed your hip, and you were all too aware of his presence, he chest flush against your back, his warm scent full of leather and wood cascading over you, "I have a few ideas in mind. Dress casually, we'll leave around seven." 

   Dean didn't move straight away, the hand on your hip slowly easing up higher, sneaking under your shirt and over your stomach, leaving a trail of shocks. Your body responded without permission, and you leaned into his chest, your heart beating erratically. 

   A gasp escaped your lips when Dean pulled his hand away abruptly, you turned around just in time to catch his teasing grin as he walked off. 

   The rest of the day passed slowly, you spent most of it curled up in an armchair reading. Jack and the three Alphas spent most of the day sitting around the map table muttering amongst themselves. At one point, you had gotten up to find out what they were talking about, but Dean stiffened at the sound of your approach and gave you a warning growl. You assumed that whatever they were talking about was monster related and clearly "none of your business". You would have been offended if it hadn't been for Sam's friendly smile as you made your way back to your favourite chair. You lost yourself in the story of The Catcher in the Rye, wishing you were living back then in simpler times, without secondary genders. Before you knew it, the clock was hitting six o'clock, and you desperately wanted to shower before your date with Dean.  

   Once back in your room, picking out your clothes became the hardest thing you had to do. You were well aware that Dean had told you to dress casual, but you felt none of your clothes were suitable. Your frustration grew, you had never been in this situation before, and you were growing impatient with yourself. You took a deep breath and decided on some worn jeans, a simple t-shirt and a denim jacket that had been amongst the clothes Sam had brought back for the second time. 

   A quick knock on the door was immediately followed by Dean's head poking through the gap. 

   "You ready to go?" He asked, eyeing you up and down. You felt yourself calm down immediately in his presence, and you fought down the instinct to wrap your arms around him and snug into his chest. 

   "Yep." You replied, smiling back up at him. 

   "Alright! Let's roll!" Dean's grin widened, and your nerves started to diminish as his excitement and joy filled the room and followed him out to the car. 

     Dean pulled up in front of a bar a little outside of town, he threw you a cheeky grin before hopping out of Baby and walking around the bonnet to open your door. 

   "C'mon, let's go have some fun." He smiled down at you, hand outstretched waiting to embrace your own. You mustered up whatever courage you could find and placed your small hand in his large one.

   You were unsurprised to find the placed chock full of Alpha's and your anxiety rose quickly with the quiet thud of the door closing shut. Dean's grip on your hand tightened, and you breathed in the calming pheromones that your Alpha was immersing you in.  

   "Don't worry, everyone knows everyone here. No one will hurt you, I promise." Dean reassured you, meeting you worried gaze. As if to prove he was lying, he began naming the people who were scattered around the bar. "See that's Dave over there, has a mate at home. That's Ben, great guy. Terrible at pool." He smirked at that last part, and you couldn't help but laugh when a stocky guy sitting at the bar called out "I heard that!"

   Dean laughed, sending the man a wink, "You were supposed to." 

   You found yourself relaxing into Dean's side, feeling much more comfortable in your environment than before. You knew deep down that your Alpha would never put you in harm's way and the light and humourous atmosphere reinforced that. 

   Dean's hand cupping your cheek pulled you out of your thoughts, and you met his joyful eyes looking down at you. "You up for a game of pool?" 

   Your cheeks flushed red at the thought of playing pool against Dean. You were well aware that he and Sam were decent players, Dean had told you a few stories that left you in awe of his skills. The only thing was that you had never played a game of pool in your life. 

   "I don't know how to play." 

   Dean's eyes lit up in a way that made you think he had won the lottery, and a broad smile spread across his face. "Well, I guess I'll just have to teach you." 

   You were dragged over to a free table, and you stood watching as Dean began to expertly set up the table. He grabbed two pool cues, one much smaller than the other and came to a stop in front of you. 

   "So, do you know any basic rules?" 

    You wracked your brain for any information you had on 8-ball pool. 

    "Just that you have to use the white ball to hit the other balls and that one person has solids, and the other has stripes, but that's about it."  

   Dean gave you an encouraging smile, noticing your unease. "That's a good start. Alright, well as you know, I am the pool champion. But I'll go easy on you this first game." 

   "You're getting a bit cocky, I mean who knows. Maybe I'll be a natural?"  The words flowed with ease, and the confidence in your voice surprised you. You didn't get much time to ponder your new-found confidence though, because your words seem to trigger a primal instinct in Dean and your eyes are glued to him as he makes his way towards you. You could see the lust flickering in his eyes and the smirk growing on his face. 

   Dean bent down to your height, his lips grazing against your own before moving towards your ear. "Are you willing to bet on it, sweetheart?" 

   You lurched back to look him straight in the eye, contemplating his question. 

   You knew the odds of actually winning a game of pool were lower than being eaten by a shark in the next three minutes, but the confidence from before had left you in a pickle, and there was no way you could back out now, your pride wouldn't let you. 

   "What are the stakes?" 

    Dean's eyes widened in shock before a full-blown smile broke out on his face. You could see the pride and pure joy he felt as if it was written on his forehead for all to read. 

   "I win we spend the rest of the night in bed." His eyes were full of mischief, and he wiggled his eyebrows up and down teasingly.

   Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and your thoughts were filled with all the things you wanted to do with him. Your cheeks warmed at the images of Dean that filled your mind. 

   The sound of Dean clearing his throat almost sent you running out the door with embarrassment, no doubt he was able to sense the desire you were feeling for him. You lifted your head to face him, and his cocky smirk was enough to break you out of your trance, the need to slap the look off of his and teach him a lesson was real. 

   "I can see you have no rejections. What would you like if you win, milady?" 

   "New clothes." You muttered, glancing down at the only decent clothes you had. It's not as if you were desperate for name-brand items so that you could show off how spoilt you were. But you had never had nice clothes, and for once you were in a position to get some. You had blown your last chance by making the biggest mistake of your life. You weren't going to do that again. 

   Dean's eyes flashed briefly with an emotion you could only describe as sadness, and you cursed yourself for bringing up such a touchy subject. 

   "You're right, and some shoes too. I think those might be a size too big." He replied, his voice light and carefree as he gestured down at your feet. 

   "Well, let's get this party started." Dean passed me the smaller pool cue and led me toward the end of the table, letting me go only to take the first shot and break the triangle. One ball flew into a pocket on the opposite end of the table. "Okay, that means you're going to be aiming for the stripes, and I'm solids." He spoke straightening up. 

   You frowned at the table then up at him, "I thought you were supposed to be some sort of pool champion. Surely you could have gotten more than one in. You going easy on me?" 

   "Sweetheart, (Y/N). If I play at full strength, you won't even get a shot in. How am I supposed to teach you if you don't get a turn?" His eyebrow raised, as he leant against the pool table. Dean was oozing confidence, and you were dying to take him down a notch. 

   "Do you worst, Alpha." 

   You grin as his eyes flashed, but on the inside, your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it. 

   Dean moved away from the table and came chest to chest, eyes trained on your face. "Be careful what you wish for, Omega." 

   And just like that, he turns away, his focus on the game in front of him. You watch as he hits three balls into pockets in a row before you make your move. Moving to stand behind him, you run your hand up his spine just as he moves to shoot. You smirked at the tension that was quick to form, and laughter filled the room when Dean missed his shot. 

   Dean turned around so quickly you didn't have time to register before he had you sitting on the edge of the pool table, his hands gripping your thighs. 

   "That was not very nice, you're going to have to make it up to me." His voice was deep with desire, and suddenly you weren't sure if you had succeeded in taking down his ego or just provided him with an opportunity to boost it even more.

   "What about the game?" You asked, your voice shaking slightly. 

   "I think it’s fair to say that I won." 

   Dean leant in had your lips against his before you could stop him. His hands moving from your thighs to your hips, holding you close you happily let the kiss consume you, forgetting the very public setting you were currently in. Your lips melded against his perfectly, and it was mesmerising. It was a feeling you never wanted to let go of. 

Chapter 7

[missjosie27]

Year 3 Part 12- Change is Coming

Hello, everyone!

We have officially reached the end of Year 3 and what a ride it has been thus far. The amount of interest this story has generated despite Hogwarts Mystery being somewhat of a let down is very heartening. It's extremely fun to write, almost like writing therapy in a way.

That being said I'd like to give an update for the future which I will also put in the story notes. This story will not be updated again until the New Year. The reason being I have several other projects I'm trying to juggle not to mention I like to write the story ahead of time and then release it over a period of time.

So, for the month of November I will be writing other things which should be done by December in which I will begin Year 4 and hopefully have completed writing it by January. So I ask for your patience as a I try to get everything done in a very difficult time for me personally. I promise it will be worth the wait. I have lots of fun things planned for Year 4, including for a certain cute Slytherin girl ;)

Anyways, enjoy the chapter! David Grant will be back in no time!

Unlike the previous year, no Professor confronted David about the vaults in the aftermath of breaking into one. He expected McGonagall or Snape to confront him about it. The Potions Master did shoot him nasty glares but asked him no questions and was no worse than he usually was. Of everyone Pince was the most likely to try and either punish or get him to confess but nothing of the sort occurred. Oddly enough, he thought the irritable librarian might be side stepping him on purpose as she consistently avoided his gaze while he studied for his exams. But there was one similarity: as it was with the ice the boggarts seemingly vanished in the aftermath of their excursion. The curse was broken.

As for the other affairs at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had returned although no one knew just exactly where he’d gotten off to in the first place. There were rumors to be sure (including one where he allegedly slayed a Hungarian Horntail and another where he took a two week holiday at a muggle resort in France in order to study the magical properties of champagne) but none of them were substantiated. The third, soon to be fourth year, Gryffindor considered himself lucky that the Headmaster was not present during his latest escapade but nevertheless remained on his guard. Very little got by the old man despite his outwardly friendly, eccentric demeanor.

Exams were soon concluded as was the Quidditch season. Unfortunately for the Lions, Slytherin won their last matchup giving the snakes victory in the Quidditch Cup which was difficult to stomach given their resounding success the previous year. Charlie Weasley took it especially hard, but all were reassured by the words of Bill, who reminded everyone the same squad was returning next year and they had only lost their two games by a margin of 100 points. Despite the disappointing season Skye Parkin and Charlie remained two of the brightest young stars in Hogwarts.

Exams were formally concluded by the second week in June and to celebrate their marks among other things Bill also suggested they celebrate at the Three Broomsticks during the last visit to Hogsmeade. With a not so subtle wink he also made plans to invite everyone involved with the latest vault, signaling their latest triumph.

Though still mentally a bit fatigued, David thought the idea was a good one and supposed if there was any time to kick back and relax it was now. The map of the forest and the broken arrow were safely locked away in his trunk, and despite feeling like he was still far from finding Jacob, he was content for now that the boggarts had disappeared and Hogwarts returned to normalcy. Besides, he had a feeling a proper discussion regarding the latest vault was imminent at the Three Broomsticks.

All the same, it wasn’t a proper school year without one last confrontation with Merula Snyde.

It was a bright, sunny day, the kind that reinvigorates the bones and the soul when the weather turns warm in the highlands of Scotland. Happy to forgo the black robes of his uniform, he dressed himself in a white t shirt, red zip up jacket, blue jeans, and a pair of black vans he was quite fond of from a muggle company called ‘vans’ (he saw the advertisement on a commercial street in London and convinced his mother the value of such a purchase). Glancing one last time at the trunk he kept his things in he muttered to himself.

“Two vaults down. I wish finding you was simpler Jacob, we could be a family again if you just came back...why...why don’t you come back?”

Feeling a rare moment of tears surging through, David wiped them and buried the feelings just as he always did. He did not want to lose face in front of his friends nor indicate anything was wrong. A butterbeer and a few jokes would be enough to keep the pain at bay for at least a little while.

He left Gryffindor Tower which by now was largely devoid of anyone given it was a sunny day, exams were done, and most people were out and about. It was only when he reached the edge of the Great Hall that the Slytherin girl stepped out from the shadows.

“Grant.”

“Good Lord, we need to put a bell on you,” he quipped.

But Merula wasn’t laughing, though she almost never smiled (unless it there was malicious intent) this time there was a hard, stony faced expression that betrayed both frustration and deep seated anger.

“I know you found that vault and I know you broke that boggart curse,” she told him quietly.

“Good job, detective. Do you want a medal for special services for the school?”

It was quite remarkable how easy it was to get underneath her skin, but for once David didn’t have the energy to spend going back and forth with her. He was tired and in no mood to pull out his wand and duel her for the umpteenth time.

By the same token, he was prepared to all the same.

“I hope you enjoy your little victory with your pathetic friends. Savor it while you can,” Merula sneered at him.

“I will, thank you,” he responded coolly. “Can’t say the same for you though.”

The teenage Slytherin’s scowl morphed into a snarl as her fists clenched but she did not reach for her wand.

“Why?” she spoke through the clenched teeth. “Why do you always do this?!”

“You’re going to have to be more specific. I do a lot of things.”

“This!” Merula gestured wildly with her hands. “Every time we fight or battle you just respond with stupid wisecracks! And on top of that you always win!!”

David recognized straight away that this was not a typical tantrum from his long standing rival. Rather it was a plea, a desperate attempt to justify why things had gone the way they had. An answer for all of her failures.

“Merula, you’re looking at this the wrong way,” came his straightforward reply.

“And how should I be looking at it?” she snarled.

“I’m not going into these vaults so I can become rich or hold myself above everyone else...I’m doing it for my brother and for the friends who have my back.”

“I had friends!” Merula shot back. “Until you bloody well took Tulip and Barnaby from me!”

“I took no one from you,” David replied more forcefully. “They chose to join my side because you treated them like rubbish and didn’t feel like taking your orders anymore.”

But Merula refused to heed him.

“It’s your fault! Everything bad that’s happened to me is your fault!”

“Classic Merula Snyde,” the Gryffindor said with an angry sigh. “Can dish it out but can’t take it. Have you ever once thought that you might be wrong? Are you capable of caring about anything except yourself?”

“I-I...you-”

“You don’t know what a friend is because you’ve never had one,” he interrupted her. “I doubt you’ve ever cared to either.“

“Don’t pretend to know me, Grant!” Merula shouted. “There is nothing about my life you could possibly understand!”

“Maybe not, but I do know one thing: if you keep on doing the same thing over and over again expect the same results. And if attacking, insulting, and lying to me hasn’t worked thus far, you may want to consider that the source of your misfortune originates with yourself and not with me.”

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, David Grant had left Merula Snyde speechless. No comeback, taunt, or rejoinder came from her mouth. Instead, it was sealed shut in a tight line and once more he could see that same hurt in her eyes. The soft lavender tortured by pain and anguish. Temptation to express sympathy became suddenly apparent but that emotion was pushed back. How were you supposed to feel sorry for someone who tried to make your life miserable just because of their own hubris?

She’s right, I don’t understand. I don’t think I ever will.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have some people waiting for me at the Three Broomsticks. See ya next year.”

As he moved past Merula, he was prepared to engage her again if she attacked. But this time retaliation was absent as the Slytherin stood stock still, posture unchanging.

Taking the staircase down to the grounds, David wondered how long it would be before she moved again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thankfully, the Three Broomsticks was a much noisier but merrier environment and sure enough the entirety of his friends were there- Bill, Penny, Rowan, Ben, Tulip, Tonks, and Barnaby sitting at one of the corner booths. All were partaking in a round of butterbeer and to his pleasant surprise there was a full mug of it untaken as though it were waiting for him.

“Dave! You made it!” Rowan exclaimed. “What took you so long?”

“Had another run in with Merula,” he said frankly.

That caused the entire table to give pause.

“Did you have to-”

“Strangely enough she didn’t attack me this time,” he answered Ben straight away. “It was more like yelling and flailing angrily.”

Bill shrugged, edging the glass mug towards him.

“Well no need to worry about her now. Have a butterbeer. Madam Rosmerta said it was on the house.”

“Cheers, mate!” he thanked, raising his glass and taking a sweet sip.

“I propose a toast,” Tulip declared, raising her own glass. “All hail the conquering cursebreaker! Long may he reign!”

“Here, here!” the rest of the group shouted out.

David was genuinely touched.

“Thank you, all. I couldn’t have done it without any of you….though you might want to be careful where you say that. ‘Officially’ we weren’t anywhere near the vault, remember?”

“Nah don’t worry about that,” Tulip told him. “I’ve heard Pince was so embarrassed about the situation she hasn’t said a peep. Not even to Dumbledore.”

“The Professors aren’t dumb, they know that someone broke the curse on the vault since most of the boggarts vanished. I heard Professor Snape was on the warpath at the latest Prefect’s meeting,” Bill informed them.

“He is,” Barnaby confirmed taking a long swig. “Merula told him about Madam Pince, the Restricted Section, and the Cursed Vault.” A proud grin stretched across his face. “She forgot to mention the part where I defeated her and Ismelda.”

“So if he knows why isn’t he hauling my ass into his office right now tearing me a new one?” David asked.

“It’s like what Tulip said,” Tonks replied. “Pince is too embarrassed to admit what happened. Didn’t stop her from giving me detention through next year though.”

“There’s no proof,” Ben agreed. “Even I’m not worried.”

“Thought I think getting detention into next year might be a new Hogwarts milestone,” David said chuckling and raising his glass towards his pink haired friend. “Congrats.”

“That dungbomb was all for you, Dave. It was also totally worth it.”

“Feels good to get off scot free,” Tulip agreed. “Well almost all of us, anyway. I don’t want to say it was all due to my brilliant plan but…”

“What did you find in the vault, David?” Penny asked eagerly. It was a question she had clearly been dying to ask.

“We found a map of the Forbidden Forest and a broken arrow. So more clues just as it was last time.”

“I’d wager all my galleons and gobstone set that the next vault is in the Forbidden Forest. It won’t be like this year where we had to spend an enormous amount of time just figuring out where the location was. I know I’ll be reading about it all summer,” Rowan chimed in.

“You mentioned in our last private chat that the map had the letter ‘R’ in the top left corner,” Bill said. “Do you have any theories on that?”

David’s eyes scanned the table before lingering on Ben.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing….”

If his gaze was accusatory it was unintentional but it had the added effect of everyone else doing the same thing which unnerved the muggle born Gryffindor.

“Why is everyone looking at me?”

He has no idea. He can’t even remember David thought to himself.

“Ben...I don’t know how to explain this because you couldn’t remember anything...but last year we found a letter on your person addressed to me signed from someone named ‘R’.”

“We think they are possibly related given the circumstances,” Rowan added. “But it’s a suspicious part of this whole mystery. Surely you remember something, right?”

“But I don’t!” Ben protested. “I don’t know what happened. One moment I’m on the train looking for you guys and the next thing I remember was waking up in a huge block of ice freezing to death. You believe me, right Dave?”

There was no lie in the boy’s eye. Someone like Ben was practically incapable of harming or hurting another human being and he’d come quite a ways from the frightened first year he once was.

“I do, Ben. Don’t worry, we’re not accusing you of anything. Just trying to connect the small amount of clues we have.”

Ben smiled in appreciation but that was not the end of the topic.

“I hope you aren’t lying to protect us. We can’t help each other unless we know what’s going on,” Rowan said, a harshness to his tone that wasn’t usually there.

Ben’s reply was honest but somewhat cool as he looked Rowan straight in the eye.

“I’m not lying to protect you, I promise.”

Sensing some tension Bill quickly interjected with a positive smile.

“Let’s worry about mystery maps and unexplained memory loss for another day. We’re here to celebrate together and that’s what counts. Now how bout some more butterbeer?”

And so they did, talking, laughing, rejoicing, talking about many subjects. Of particular interest was Penny and Rowan’s regalement of their role in distracting Pince, which took on a whole new dimension when Tonks set off the dungbomb too close for comfort (“It took so long to get the smell out of my braids!” the blonde remarked). Also of note was the fact that the Slytherin Quidditch team celebrated their victory by pulling a prank on top of the Astronomy Tower: hanging a pair of knickers which no one knew how they managed to pull off (“I could have done way better!” Tonks claimed). All in all, it was the perfect end of the year party.

After what seemed like hours and into the mid afternoon, Hagrid made an unexpected but welcome appearance.

“Arigh’ there David?” he boomed coming up to the table. “Celebratin’ with one last butterbeer before yeh all go home fer the holidays?”

“Right you are, Hagrid! Come on, pull up a chair. Join us.”

“I’d love teh, but I was actually sent ter give yeh a message.”

David cocked an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

“Professor Dumbledore wants teh see yeh in his office,” the large gameskeeper replied looking a bit sheepish.

The group immediately went silent as they all gave looks of concern that all indicated the obvious question: did Dumbledore, even in his absence, know all along?

“If it makes yeh feel better, Dave the boggarts are almost all gone,” Hagrid tried to reassure him upon witnessing his distress.

“Thank you. But I best not keep him waiting.”

He reluctantly drained his glass, gave a goodbye to his friends and prepared to face the music.

Maybe Tonks will have a detention buddy next year

He didn’t want to think about a possible worst outcome.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Surprisingly, the password to Dumbledore’s office was the same as it was the previous year ‘lemon drop’ which made David wonder if it was an unintentional design flaw or genius due to the fact that most young witches and wizards had no idea what a lemon drop was. Either way, he didn’t think the upcoming conversation was going to be about muggle sweets as he stepped past the gargoyle and up the rotating stairs.

Unlike the last instance in which he’d been inside this office, the outline and appearance was not as wondrous a second time though the layout was still quite impressive. And on this occasion, Dumbledore didn’t waste any time delving into the matter.

“Ah, Mr. Grant. Please come forward.”

David did so, quite afraid that the Headmaster was not going to be so forgiving and direct him to pack his bags, his wand to be snapped in two. The warning at the beginning of the year echoed loudly in his head. However, whatever the old man was feeling he gave no indication as the bearded face and sparkling blue eyes remained passively neutral.

“This has become something of a tradition,” Dumbledore began. “Our annual opportunity to discuss life, love, endless heroics, and egregious misbehavior.”

“It seems so, sir.”

He was almost tempted to give up right then and there but if there was one thing he’d learned about Dumbledore in his time at Hogwarts it was to expect the unexpected. Therefore he decided to say little for now.

“I understand much transpired in my two week absence.”

“Yes, Professor. More than you could imagine.”

“Even the wildest imaginations could not have come up with the tales retold to me,” Dumbledore said, that familiar twinkle returning to his eye. “Dragons in the common rooms, mummies in closets, werewolves in greenhouses, and Voldemort himself lurking in every cupboard.”

You have no idea

“There was more than one report that even I made an appearance in boggart form.”

“I’m surprised people would be afraid of you sir….by the way does this mean the boggarts are all gone?”

A knowing look passed over Dumbledore’s features.

“I believe you have already made the observation for yourself, David. However, yes most of them are gone. It is important to note, however, that boggarts can never truly be banished because they are born of human emotion. Fortunately they can be of some use. Defense Against the Dark Arts classes can practice ‘Ridikkulus’ on the remaining ones for years to come.”

There was a slight pause in which the old man put something away into his magnificent desk.

“But I’m sure that’s nothing compared to what you faced in this latest vault. Please, tell me everything.”

So he did know. David supposed there wasn’t any use in playing dumb anymore as almost nothing got by the Headmaster in the first place. Yet, it was still amazing to him that he was able to glean his transgressions regardless.

“Sir, I-”

“There is no need to lie, David in case you were thinking of doing so. You are not in trouble for the time being. Please be honest.”

Reassuring enough

The third year Gryffindor acquiesced. Though he left out the details of some parts such as Tulip’s plan, his brother’s room, and the full extent of Bill’s involvement, he was truthful to the letter about what horrors lay inside and the fact that his boggart was You Know Who. Upon finishing his tale Dumbledore took a moment to muse before responding.

“This is all quite fascinating. It seems as though someone else tampered with the vaults which released the multitudes of boggarts.”

“Yes, sir. Originally, I did try to do as you asked at the beginning of the year.”

“And do you know the reason why your boggart takes the form of Lord Voldemort?”

Resisting the urge to shudder at the name, David debated on how to properly answer. Though he gave Tulip a truthful answer before, it was not the full truth, one that had only just come to bear by virtue of entering the vault.

“It’s not You Know Who himself. It’s more what he represents.”

“And what does he represent to you?”

Dumbledore’s eyes were piercing over his half moon spectacles but they were also gentle and understanding giving his pupil ample time to respond. When David did finally answer, it was difficult to get the words out.

“Guilt,” he said with tremendous effort. “Guilt over Jacob and why he left. The rumors after his disappearance about joining You Know Who were constant. If you want a reason why I went after the vaults again that’s the main one. To try and find him...I heard his voice speaking to me in the vault again...”

He couldn’t continue but there was no need to say more as Dumbledore nodded empathetically.

“Naturally. And if I had such information I would certainly share it. However, the mystery of Jacob Grant remains. While I cannot speak to his location I can speak to my personal theory that he yet lives...your bond is proof of that.”

David nodded in return but he was unable to discuss his brother any longer. Switching gears, there was a question he had for Dumbledore as well.

“Professor, you’ve gone at certain points in each of the past two years. Where exactly have you been?”

“Ah yes, I believe it is my turn to answer some questions,” the old man said with good humor. “I take it you’ve heard the wild rumors.”

“Almost every single one.”

“Then you must have discerned I was not in France to discern the magical properties of champagne though it is rather tasty I must say,” Dumbledore chuckled. “No, I have been seeking the world’s finest curse breaker. One who has had intimate experience with the cursed vaults. An exceptional pupil of mine back when my beard was shorter and browner.”

“Who is she?” David couldn’t help but ask.

“A woman by the name of Patricia Rakepick. At present she is currently exploring recently discovered ruins under the Brazilian wizarding school Castelobruxo.”

Familiarity with that name rang through the teen’s head.

“Rakepick...I know that name. I gave Bill a book about her adventures in cursebreaking. I had no idea.”

“Indeed, she is considered one of the magical community’s premiere experts on the subject. When the next year begins, she will be at Hogwarts to assist us with these vaults. I am most interested in hearing her opinion of them and of you.”

Dumbledore’s face then turned stern but the blue eyes did not lose all of its twinkle.

“You have directly disobeyed me, yet you have also once again broken a curse that threatened the livelihood and safety of everyone here. I am running out of excuses for you, David. If you repeat this offense again with a professional on staff, I will not be able to insulate you from further punishment.”

This was the Headmaster at his most serious and despite his general easy going demeanor it was not lost on David that this was also the only man You Know Who ever feared. It would not do to openly argue.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

Dumbledore gestured towards his left, indicating a bright red and yellow bird, sitting on a perch in all its splendor.

“Actions are far better than apologies. Take Fawkes for example. From time to time the Phoenix is reborn- fresh and rejuvenated. You have that power too. Take the summer, and when you return to Hogwarts, start fresh.”

David nodded emphatically taking in the beauty of the Phoenix.

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”

The old man’s faithful smile was back again.

“In the meantime, take one hundred points for Gryffindor. I daresay that might take the sting out of losing the Quidditch Cup this year.”

“You don’t know the half of...I mean, thank you, Professor.”

Dumbledore laughed heartily.

“I can always count on a whimsical remark from you in our conversations, David. However, there is one more thing I wish to tell you. Though the Vault of Fear has been broken it’s legacy remains ever present in our lives. Fear causes human beings to act in ways they would not normally, and though the Voldemort you fought was only a boggart, the real Dark Lord used the exact same method to gain followers and seize power. Remember that it is only by confronting our worst nightmares that we rise above them and truly become better people. No doubt that is one of many lessons you’ve taken this year.”

The wisdom was not lost on the young Gryffindor. He did not need to be afraid of Jacob or him joining You Know Who. The only method now was to move forward in continuing the search for his lost brother.

“Yes, sir.”

Feeling he was dismissed, David turned to leave but not before one last telling remark from the Headmaster.

“David, my last bit of wisdom was not aimed solely for you alone. There are many other students who could stand to start fresh next year. Including one miss Merula Snyde.”

He didn’t respond to that and didn’t need to. The implication was clear enough. Everyone was going to go through some changes in the coming months. What kind had still yet to be determined.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dumbledore’s last second gesture allowed the Gryffindors to eek by the Slytherins for the House Cup, which did not sit well with the snakes, however given that it was the end of the year, it was too late to do much about it. The party in the tower the night before graduation was legendary. So much so that Angelica Cole even drunkenly admitted how much she cared for and would miss him.

“You’ll be a great prefect,” she slurred, firewhiskey in hand.

David wasn’t overly concerned with that. The naming of prefects for his peer group was still another year away and he knew that Rowan or Charlie were the most likely candidates anyway. At the forefront of his mind was the long summer ahead, a time of relaxation and fun for most people, but for the Grant family there would be little to no vacations. His father would stay stoically silent, his mother constantly hen pecking...only his grandfather seemed to truly sympathize with him.

I reap the consequences of Jacob’s absence, he thought to himself at one point. Mum and Dad are incapable of seeing that

Still, he was able to enjoy the train ride home with his friends, which was a small consolation for the isolated, controlled environment he could expect upon his return to Bath. He scanned the prophet for any signs of beat writers catching wind of the boggart problem at Hogwarts but saw nothing, not even from the notorious Rita Skeeter. Breathing a sigh of relief, he supposed that unless Dumbledore lettered his parents, they would never know he had disobeyed them as well.

“Are you okay, David?” Rowan asked.

He tossed aside the newspaper and rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah sorry, mate. Was just finishing up checking the Quidditch scores.”

“Seems like something else is on your mind, though.”

His best friend knew him better than most people, so he supposed it was fitting he’d realize not everything was settled inside (least of which the eggs and bacon he consumed that morning).

“This year was the most interesting one yet,” he said aloud as he looked out the window. “And yet I feel next year will be even more so. My gut tells me a lot is going to change.”

“It may,” Rowan acknowledged. “But it may not be all bad. You’ll see.”

David turned around and observed the group in front of him- Ben, Charlie, Tulip, and Penny, his hazel blue eyes dilating slightly at the two girls, noticing just how pretty they looked.

“Yeah...maybe you’re right.”

“Besides if there’s one thing I can count on it’s cursebreaking adventures with my best friend.”

David clapped an appreciative hand on Rowan’s shoulder, warmth rushing through his heart.

“Thanks, mate...you’re just interested in reading about the Forbidden Forest this summer aren’t you?”

Rowan laughed at the joke.

“You caught me. Now come on, let’s go play some exploding snap.”

And so they did, and David was able to enjoy the last few sunny hours on the train. All the while he was able to heed the lesson this latest vault had taught him. It did no good to live in fear, especially when you had friends to count on.

But as it was every year, the ride back to Platform nine and three quarters was always quicker than the journey from there. Soon, everyone was unloading their luggage, saying hello to their families against the backdrop of the sunkissed day and over the roar of the hissing steam emanating from the train.

“Another vault down, another one to go,” Bill told him with a grin, shaking his hand. “Can’t wait to do this again next year.”

“As always, Bill. And who knows maybe we can finally get Charlie involved.”

“If you manage to get him away from dragons and Quidditch you might have a shot,” the elder Weasley laughed. “My folks are waiting in the parking lot, but make no mistake mum is very keen to meet you. We have to invite you for Christmas some time.”

“I’d be honored.”

Next was Tulip who had that ever present mischievous smirk but it was much softer in the presence of a farewell.

“Take care, David Grant. You’re a very intriguing person, and I can safely say I’m very glad I met you.”

“I could say the same about you, Tulip,” he responded genuinely. “Nothing we did this year would have happened without you.”

The eccentric Ravenclaw responded with something quite unexpected. She kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand once more.

“You’re many things, David Grant. Boring least of all, but most of all a good person. Can’t wait to make more mischief in the fall.”

She winked at him and ran off to join two people, which looked like her parents, one was a stern looking Japanese man with a bowler hat, the other an Irish woman with flowing red hair who also gave no visible emotion on her face. David felt a pang of empathy go through him. His parents may be strict, but he could only imagine what Tulip went through during the summer. He made a point of reference to write to her. Something told they’d both need it.

After exchanging goodbyes with Rowan and Ben, Penny was the last to see him off.

“Summer always seems dreadfully long even if it is my favorite time of year,” Penny told him. “Feel free to write me any time.”

“You know I will,” David said with a smile. “I’ll need all the post I can get.”

The blonde girl rubbed his arm encouragingly.

“It’s not forever, Dave. We’ll see each other again before you know it. Enjoy the holiday with your family!”

David supposed she didn’t know the true origins of his post semester blues, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her it was his family that was precisely the problem.

“I will, Penny. Thank you.”

For the second time in as many instances, he received a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, causing him to go red and touch the spot where he received the affectionate gesture, which made Penny giggle.

“See you next year, cursebreaker of Hogwarts.”

The last thing David had expected was two kisses on the cheek from two of his best female friends and it made him feel quite funny on the inside.

He had little time to dwell on these feelings however as his parents came into view a brown haired man with a goatee and a short blonde woman, waving and walking towards him.

“David!” his mom gushed, giving him an enormous hug. “So glad to see you safe and well. How are you? Did your exams go well?”

“Now, now let him breathe Heather,” his dad said with a light chuckle. “He just got off the train.” He ruffled his son’s dark brown hair in a show of affection. “It is good to see you safe and well, David.”

“Do you have your things unloaded and ready to go? Are you hungry?”

“Don’t worry, mum. I’m all set,” he said quickly to reassure her. Not even a minute in he was already tired of her smothering.

“Very good then, can’t blame a mother for asking.”

“I rented out a ‘Chevro’ something,” his father mentioned to him as they began to walk away from the platform. “Yank automobile. Runs pretty well, I know we can apparate but I’m thinking of buying one for myself. Dead useful these things.”

“John, please keep your voice down lest the entirety of muggle London know what we are.”

“Apologies, dear.”

His mother turned to face him and beamed a great smile but as it was since his brother disappeared there was a subtle sadness and anxiety within them.

“I have good news. We’re going to visit my side of the family this summer at their house for a get together. My brother is having another baby soon. I hope you’re ready for it.”

David thought back to his friends, his Professors, Dumbledore, the map, the broken arrow and the lively face of Jacob whispering to never give up. He looked up at his parents, two people whose lives were still run by fear...fear of losing him.

“Yes,” he replied. “I am.”

[sunshinepeter]

the art of fashion

one

It started when Peter showed up for his and Tony’s new “Lab Day” in a shirt that said “You matter, unless you multiply yourself by the speed of light squared. Then you energy”. Tony didn’t comment, not wanting to destroy the fragile thing they had just established, whatever it was. 

But when Peter was wearing a “barium cobalt nitrogen” shirt the next week, Tony found himself commenting before he could stop. 

“Nice shirt,” he snorted. Peter looked down, and smiled dorkily. 

“Oh, yeah. May bought it,” Peter said quietly. He was blushing just slightly. 

“You know, no self respecting… person would wear that.” Tony sat down at his workbench, and Peter sat down at the one across from him. Peter had a slightly confused look on his face. 

“Then why would they sell them?” Peter asked, and Tony smirked in lieu of a response. After a second Peter mumbled, “I like it.”

“Then I like it too,” Tony said, still smirking. 

The next week he showed up in a shirt that said “name’s Bond, Ionic Bond”. Tony just smiled and told the boy that he thought it was funny. 

two

When Peter invited Tony and Rhodey to the small Halloween get together he and May had every year, he hadn’t really expected Tony to say “alright, what time should we come?”. 

But there they were, at seven (like Peter told them), Tony wearing a name tag with “Dave” on it, a la The Office and Rhodey wearing a fedora. Peter was in a full Peter Pan costume. 

“Get it?” Peter said awkwardly, spinning in a circle to give the full view of the all green outfit, and Tony burst out laughing. 

three 

When it started snowing at four p.m. on Christmas Eve, Peter didn’t think much of it. He was at the Compound with Tony and Rhodey, waiting for May’s flight to come in so he could go home and they could binge watch some Christmas movies, as they did every Christmas Eve. 

It was still snowing at six p.m. when Peter’s cell rang. May’s number. 

“Hey. Did you get off your plane?” Peter asked, and Rhodey looked up from across the room, where he was reading a book. Tony was on the phone in the other room with some investor or something. 

“Uh, didn’t get on it. I’m so sorry sweetie, the plane was delayed and I didn’t think anything of it, just a bit later, then it was delayed again, but they just cancelled it. I’m stuck here for the night.” 

“What?” Peter sat up straight, out of the slouch he had assumed while he sat on the over-fluffy couch. “You’re still in Minneapolis?” 

Rhodey stood up, stepping closer and sitting next to Peter, cocking his head to the side in confusion. 

“Yeah. Baby, I’m so so sorry,” May’s voice was hushed, obviously she was still in the airport. Peter felt bad, of course, but he also was sad because of course this would happen on Christmas Eve of all days. 

He hung up after a few minutes of her telling of how she was getting on a flight in the morning, right when the snow was supposed to stop, and how Peter would stay at the Compound for the night. 

“I’m sorry, kid.” Rhodey rubbed his arm consolingly, and Peter just sighed. “I mean, me and Tony aren’t that bad. We can still have fun if you’re up for it.” 

“I guess,” Peter grumbled. 

“C’mon. What can we do to make it a fun night?” 

Which is why an hour later when Tony finally got off the phone, he found Rhodey and Peter sitting on the couch with a huge bowl of popcorn between them, the smell of cookies in the oven, and both of them wearing Christmas-themed onesies while watching Elf. 

“Wha…” 

“We are having a Christmas sleepover. There’s a onesie in your size in the bathroom,” Rhodey said with a smile and threw a piece of popcorn at his boyfriend. 

Tony came back in an Olaf onesie and a grimace on his face. Peter flipped his hood up on his onesie and grinned. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was still good. 

four

Peter was already halfway through a cup of hot chocolate by the time Rhodey had managed to wake up and get to the kitchen, which was a miracle in itself. Rhodey naturally woke up extremely early, so coming in and seeing the kid already perched at the breakfast bar, scrolling through his phone, was odd. 

“Good morning,” He said, beelining straight to the coffeemaker to turn it on for Tony. He knew that Tony was going to want to see Peter before he went back to his aunt’s house, and the best way to wake Tony Stark up was with coffee, so he figured it was a safe bet. 

“Merry Christmas!” Peter chirped, obviously too chipper for the kid this morning. 

“You seem uncharacteristically awake this morning,” Rhodey commented as he prepared Tony’s favorite coffee, back to the kid.

“Christmas does that to me. No matter how late I go to bed or where I am, I always wake up extremely early on Christmas. The child in me is just excited, apparently. Thanks for the clothes, by the way.” 

Once Peter had gone off to bed, after many Christmas movies watched with Tony and Rhodey, Rhodey had peeked in to check on the kid per Tony’s request. He had seen that Peter had taken off the onesie, leaving it on the floor, which was obvious as onesies were extremely uncomfortable to try to sleep in, so Rhodey quickly gathered a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt for the kid to wear when he had woken up. 

Rhodey turned to tell him that it didn’t matter, and that he knew that onesies were uncomfortable, but stopped when he finally laid eyes on Peter. 

Peter’s hair was a mess, frizzy and all over the place on top of his head, caramel curls waving down in front of his eyes and ears, showing his desperate need for a haircut. He was slumped over a white coffee mug, wearing an oversized, red MIT sweatshirt that made it all the way around his hands, almost covering his fingertips, as he gripped the mug to seemingly capture it’s warmth. 

The sweatshirt had, at one point, belonged to Rhodey. It was eventually stolen by Tony, back in their early days of college. When Tony was no older than Peter was right now. 

“What?” Peter asked, seeing Rhodey stare at him with a… look in his eye. Rhodey snapped out of it, and turned back to the coffee. 

“Nothing. You just look like Tony,” Rhodey said, back already to the boy, but he could hear him choke on the hot chocolate. 

five 

Peter had gone suit shopping with Tony about a month and a half before the wedding. He kept insisting that he didn’t need anything fancy, that Ben probably had a suit that would work somewhere, but Tony ignored him. 

“We will get you a nice, tailored suit, and that way you can look snazzy at my wedding, and if you ever need a suit for another event, you have one. A traditional black suit should do just fine. Plain enough so as to not be too flashy, but classic and sleek that doesn’t make you seem too old.” 

They spent a good portion of that day laughing as Peter tried on an array of suits. Some were just plain suits of different fits and slightly different details, like Peter and Tony discussed, but others, like a baby blue suit a la Troy Bolton in High School Musical Three, was for Peter’s own amusement. For once he ignored the weird, odd looks he got when he was with Tony, and enjoyed his afternoon suit shopping. 

They left the store with Peter’s suit in hand, ready to be taken to be altered, and Tony threw an arm around the boy as they approached Happy’s car.

“You know, the suit might be the most classy thing I’ve ever seen you wear, Pete,” Tony said, and Peter smiled. 

“The things I do for you,” He responded, only to reveal that he was wearing a shirt that said “molecool’ with a drawing of a molecule with sunglasses drawn over it. Tony just groaned, but kept smiling anyway. 

plus one

Three months (but also five years) after that day, Peter was wearing that exact suit at Tony Stark’s funeral. Rhodey’s hand was planted on his shoulder, May was squeezing his other hand, but all he could feel was the phantom of Tony Stark as he relived the memory of Tony adjusting Peter’s cufflinks and smiling at the boy in the mirror of that suit store dressing room, telling him that he looked very grown up in such a nice suit. 

“Very handsome, I would even say. This suit will definitely come in handy for you in the future, Parker, just count on it,” was all Peter could hear as the arc reactor was lowered into the water, forever releasing Tony Stark from the rest of the world.

masterlist

[themockingcrows]

Second Base Desserts

Davepetasprite/John Egbert This chapter is Mildly Spicy and thus Not SFW. cw: sloppy makeouts, grinding, and copious boob touch. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25320091

     To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Of course John was nervous. Davepeta was a culmination of one of his best friends he’d had a crush on for years when he was younger and a troll he’d never met in life, all blended up into a creature that was one of the cutest things he’d ever seen. Sprites were confusing in how they worked, though people had tried to explain it to him multiple times, including the sprites themselves… but when it came down to it, John just knew they were their own person and their own being, and that was enough. Davepeta was no more Nepeta than Dave or Davesprite or vice versa, and while there were memories of all sides, they were far more than the sum of their parts.

     It was kind of amazing to him. 

     Wait, no, he was supposed to be nervous about his upcoming date, not waxing poetic and daydreaming about the sprite he was going to be spending time with. John slapped either side of his face a few times with both hands before looking more seriously into the mirror, examining his features. Same eyes, same brows, same nose, same zit on his chin, sam-

     Fuck, why now?! Was it the stress? It was probably the stress, why else would he be breaking out like a teenager in his 20’s? Cussing his under breath John took care of the pustule and washed his face in the sink, finishing off with cool water, puffing a bit of air from his hand at his face to dry it rather than search blindly for the towel hanging to the side. The circle of stupidity may have been completed long ago, but it would never be complete enough for him to grab it on the first reaching try.

     Okay. There, everything looked to be in order now. Satisfied with the mirror, John went and bulldozed his way through a half dozen shirts, trying to find something that looked good without trying too hard. Joke shirt? No. Meme shirt? Fuck, no, though laser cat would have his day eventually. Button down? ...Hm. The button down had merit, dressy but not too dressy. He knew he’d look clean cut and presentable, and it didn’t make him look too skinny when he wore a shirt under it and left it open…

     A look at his watch, another bit of cussing, and John raced to get the shirts on, as well as his pants. Out of time, out of time. He was just starting to jump into his shoes when the doorbell rang and caught his attention, making him nearly trip over the stairs in his hurry to get down there in time. Floating all but left his mind as he rushed, relying on his legs to get the job done.

     “Hey! Sorry you were… waiting,” John trailed off, mouth suddenly gone dry. Davepeta was taller than him by half a head, and this was added to by a set of heeled sandals today. They wore a shortish skirt with a bottom wave and a frilled edge, dark leggings that reached their calves, and a band t-shirt that had shredded shoulders and a shredded side that just showed the strap of a red bra beneath over their pale flashing skin. With their wings folded behind their back, it was kind of mesmerizing, glittering instead of flashing. He couldn’t track or trace the changing colors accurately, as they seemed to meld into each other just around the edges of papery white like pearlescence in the light.

     “I wasn’t waiting long at all, your timing is purrfect,” they said with a grin, showing off sharp canines. John wet his lips briefly, trying not to gawk too much.

     Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He had a date with this person and he could barely keep his head straight. 

     “Yeah,” he said, awkwardly standing still until Davepeta tipped their head to the side and grinned again.

     “...Should I come in? Or do you want to just go?”

     “Wh- oh. Yeah. I’m uh. Yeah, let me just grab my wallet and keys real quick,” he said, darting away from the door to fumble his wallet and phone and jam them into his pocket, and get his keys into his hand from the bowl by the door. “Did you uh. Did you decide what you wanted to eat?”

     “Yeah, I’m open to pretty much anything, but burgers can’t go wrong as a fallback,” they said, patiently waiting while John collected himself before popping outside and locking up.

     “How are you with chopsticks?”

     Davepeta was quiet for a moment, tipping their head back and searching their memories. Chopsticks, chopsticks.. Dave knew how to use them. Nepeta didn’t seem to. Would they be able to do it? Access the muscle memory correctly and certainly it should be possible.

     “I think I’m pretty good,” they finally said. 

     “Buffet, maybe?”

     “Sounds fun!” they said, reaching out the grasping John’s arm, tugging him close excitedly as he pulled his phone back out to search for the address. He felt their chest against his shoulder, warm and pliant, and it took even more effort than before to keep his thumb sliding smoothly against the screen. Food. Focus on food.

     ...

     Boobs.

     No, food. Focus on the food. Boobs later.

     Boobs later?

     Maybe? 

     GEEZE, COME ON JOHN, WHERE’S THE FUCKING FOOD.

     Oh, there it was. Though he’d eaten there at least a dozen times since making sure they didn’t use peanut oil, directions escaped him when his mind was this distracted by his date. He showed the screen to Davepeta for their confirmation and acceptance, and found himself grinning when they smiled and nodded at the suggestion.

     ...Fuck their smile was cute. The slight cleft of their lip that gave a distinctly feline appearance, the sharp teeth, yet the familiar nose and eyes and chin of his friend. Soon as he’d slipped his phone into his pocket once more, John felt his feet leaving the ground, the sprite already excitedly taking flight to lead them along.

     “Wait, I uh. I thought it’d be kind of nice to walk,” John admitted, hovering.

     Davepeta thought it over before nodding and returning to the ground, tucking their wings behind their body once more. “We’re not that far off, I guess you’re right. More room to talk while walking,” they agreed.

     “Yeah, exactly,” John said, setting off in the correct direction once Davepeta curled onto his arm once more. Their size difference made it a bit awkward, but neither of them seemed to care. Davepeta’s tail curled gently against his leg now and then as they walked, and the air was filled with chatter about movies, about snacks, about what they’d done the last few days. John found himself being quieter to listen to Davepeta’s fascinating depiction of normal everyday things, somehow making the most mundane things seem exciting. 

     Late night ice cream became an adventure, chasing birds in the sky was a sport worthy of competition, and managing to do their laundry naked without getting caught so everything wound up clean at the same time was the most distracting thing John had ever heard in his life. It became almost impossible not to imagine what they looked like underneath that cute outfit as they walked, to not ponder the shape of their thighs based on their stride. Their arrival at the buffet was just in time for John to keep his sanity, getting a table for two in a booth off to the side.

     When John started to walk towards the buffet after their seats were secured, Davepeta looked prepared to hang back for some reason. Odd, considering how gung ho they were about every experience normally.

     “You okay? We could go somewhere else if this isn’t what you’re hungry for.”

     “No, no, it’s fine. Really! I’m just…” they trailed off, glancing to the buffet before back to John with an awkward smile. “There’s a lot of things I haven’t tried, so I don’t know what I’ll like or not for sure.”

     “Wouldn’t memories of what Dave liked help?” John asked, a little confused.

     “Yeah, it’d be a good guideline for what I’d probably like, but my taste buds are different now, remember?” they said with an amused grin. “Dave loves chocolate ice cream and I like strawberry. Nepeta’s favorite flavor was exclusive to Alternia but she likes vanilla too. The things that Davesprite and Dave and Nepeta liked aren’t always what I like. ...And that’s a lot of new stuff to try out.”

     “I’m surprised you haven’t gone to a place like this before, considering how much you like new experiences,” John said, offering his hand. “But c’mon, that’s half the fun of buffets! We’ll load your plate up with a bite of everything and see what you like. I’ll just snag what you don’t like,” he offered. That seemed to do the trick, brightening Davepeta back up. 

     It became an adventure again. Different meats and vegetables were loaded up onto Davepeta’s plate in small portions, the sweet and sour chicken, the sesame beef, the noodles and fried rice. Spicy things, sour things, sweet things, salted things that even John tended to shy away from were added till they had a full plate and were sweeping back to their booth while John got a few of his favorite standbys and followed suit. Their drinks were waiting on them, bubbly cola with straws placed beside the glasses that were already sweating from how cold the liquid in the glass was compared to the room.

     John had grabbed a set of forks as well as his chopsticks just in case they turned out useful, but Davepeta seemed to have the hang of their utensils just fine after a few clumsy attempts at picking something up. The motion became more fluid, more experienced, truly the hand of someone who’d lived on takeout for a good chunk of his life exerting some presence from within the amalgamation that was John’s date.

     “Ohhh this is good,” they crooned, touching the side of their face after a few bites of one section of their plate, savoring the flavor.

     John, charmed, stirred his food for a moment or two to just observe and grin at them before tucking into his own plate. No matter how churning his stomach was with attraction, butterflies aplenty, food was still food and John was still hungry. His focus on the plate and the food and the spectacle of Davepeta discovering and savoring different items on their plate made it all the more surprising when he felt something soft stroke against his calf. ...Tail? It was probably their tail, it seemed to like curling around things sometimes and didn’t seem to have much directionality on its ow- that was a foot. That was Davepeta’s foot stroking against his leg. That was his date’s foot trailing up his leg and over his knee, up to his thigh and back down. Shivering, John stared at Davepeta for some kind of clue, a hint, as to what was happening.

     It took a moment to detect the predatory look in their eyes behind their shades, the faint quirk of their lips as they ate and slowed their talking, but once John became aware of it it was impossible to ignore. This was like a game of chicken: the first one to break and talk about the elephant in the room of what was happening under the table lost. John didn’t want to break the magic, and Davepeta seemed to have their own ideas.

     The game was on.

     “I don’t think I like the noodles much, would you like them?”

     “Oh. Yeah uh. I’ve got room,” John said. A bit of sauce and he’d be content to eat them with everything else on his plate. But it was hard to think of food and eating when he felt the delicate stroking along his inner thigh once more, felt the heat rushing to his ears and cheeks as he reached over with his chopsticks to scoop up a bit of the noodles. It took three tries to securely scoop well enough to get the majority of the noodles lifted and onto his plate safely, hand shaking every time he felt the stroking take a long, leisurely trail down or up his leg.

     Davepeta, compared to his tense, flushing mess of a display, was calm and collected and attentive as ever. Every twitch, every inch of blushing, was being weighed and calculated like a hunter surveying their prey. They dined on their General Tso’s chicken with their lips curled back into a grin, amused, playful. John didn’t know what he liked more: Davepeta’s chatty and excitable nature, or when they got like this and he knew he was the only thing being looked at in the room.

     John managed to keep himself quiet while they stroked at him off and on, stopping now and then to just rest their legs together, other times hooking their toes behind his ankle and positioning his shorter leg how they wanted it before beginning to stroke  anew. It became less intimidating, less awkward as it went on, and John found himself relaxing into their touch.

     Didn’t stop his brain from wandering, though, right into the gutter. What if it was their hand doing the tracing. What if they didn’t stop at his thigh and went further up? How would they react, knowing he was already half erect just from being teased? 

     What if it was their lips tracing up and along his thighs...? What if they went just that little bit higher. What would a blowjob feel like from them, all fanged and sweet lipped? Would they tease him as much as they were now, or would their eagerness take over and-

     “John, how do you feel about bell peppers?”

     Dazed, unaware of how long he’d been staring without eating, John dropped his chopsticks and reached for his drink instead of picking them up right away.

     “Bell peppers? Bell peppers. I don’t mind them,” he said. “Do you need them taken away?”

     “They’ve got a bit of a weird aftertaste,” admitted Davepeta, picking a few peppers out of their meal to offer to John, who mixed them in with his earlier taken noodles without question.

     The teasing trailed off after that, Davepeta slipping their foot back into their sandal, though their tail occasionally made appearances below and above the edge of the table, whipping around and curling around itself when they ate something they particularly enjoyed.

     “Wanna get ice cream for dessert after this?” John asked. “I know a place that has really good cones and flavors.”

     Davepeta perked up and nodded, beaming. More adventures? More adventures. More things to try and places to go on their date, of course they were game.

     “We can fly for that part I think since it’s a ways off from here,” John said. “The shop is kinda crowded, it’d be nice to find a spot to eat them afterwards too.”

     “I think I know a few spots,” Davepeta said, toying with a piece of beef before popping it into their mouth, licking their upper lip afterwards. “Think you’ll be able to keep up if I go fast?”

     John smirked. “You’re speaking to someone who’s the master of wind, I think I can keep up.”

     “Yeah, yeah, heir of breath, blah blah blah. You’re not used to racing against a sprite like me,” they said smugly, playfully preening themselves for a moment before going back to picking at what was left on their plate. “But yeah, that sounds good to me!”

     The rest of their meal passed in easy quiet, John winding up comfortably full with room for dessert by the time it came to pay. He pulled out his wallet, but Davepeta was already quicker to pay, leaving him to handle the tip instead. Deciding to be quicker on the draw, John promised himself he’d at least pay for the ice cream once they bought it, to even things out.

     They left hand in hand before taking off to the sky, Davepeta unfurling their wings even if they weren’t really needed for flight, with John just glad that he wasn’t attached to his hair looking anything but windswept and messy as a gust knocked them sideways and added a bit of fun to their journey. John eventually pointed down at the top of a specific building, the two of them lowering down about a block away before walking the remainder of the distance on foot, remaining hand in hand. Davepeta’s skin was warm and soft against John’s palm, and all he could do was pray his hands didn’t go sweaty from nerves.

     Why was he so nervous? He didn’t need to impress anyone, the hardest part had already happened! Davepeta had asked him out suddenly a brief while ago, and since there was no reason to say no he’d rolled with it. The more he’d thought about where it might lead, though, the more nervous John had grown. Thinking about holding hands had already happened, thinking about their lips and their throat and everything else just made him more and more flustered, yet he couldn’t help it. Everything about them was glowing, and every time they talked it sounded like music to him.

     ...Fuck, he had it bad didn’t he.

     “I think I’m gonna get the toffee and coffee,” John said after looking at the menu. A double scoop sounded doable, plenty sweet and bitter to tide him over. Davepeta took their time looking over the menu before deciding on strawberry cheesecake and a key lime pie flavor, letting John pay as they smoothed a crest in their ice cream with their tongue. They didn’t walk very far before taking flight once more, Davepeta taking the lead this time, tugging John along by the hand towards… the woods? John was surprised by how dense the brush looked, but when an opening appeared, Davepeta began to steer them downwards and he followed without question.

     The clearing was pleasant, grasses and flowers aplenty in the open sunlight, fallen trees blocking the way save for deer trails. It seemed deep enough that foot traffic would be at a minimum, if there was any at all that didn’t reside on four legs. All around them was birdsong and the sounds of the forest. Peaceful. Quiet. Davepeta released his hand only long enough to pull a thin branch back out of the way for him to pass with his ice cream, taking a seat on one of the larger fallen logs. How old had this tree even been? Part of John wished he could understand tree rings, or however the heck they figured out the age of trees, just to get an idea of how ancient the fallen one actually was before he’d been able to use it as a chair.

     They sat side by side, arm to arm, as they ate their ice cream. Davepeta was eating a little quicker than John, curling their tongue around sections of the treat and pulling them in without getting brain freeze, while John continued to lick from bottom to top to avoid getting the sweet sticky flavors all over his hand. The weather was warm, so activity had to be constant to keep ahead of the melting.

     “Hey, John,” Davepeta suddenly said. “...Why did you agree to go out with me?”

     “Huh? Well… I dunno,” he said. “You’re sweet, and pretty, and it’s nice to be around you. We like a lot of the same things. And, well. I mean. You asked,” he chuckled. “It seemed like a good move, you know?”

     Davepeta considered the answer and seemed to be content with it, continuing to lathe their tongue over their ice cream for a moment before speaking up once more.

     “Hey, John.”

     “Hmm?”

     “What do you think of this?” they asked.

     Unable to see what they were speaking about, John turned his head to take a peek, only to be caught in a kiss. It was chilly from ice cream, and a little sticky, sweet with dessert flavors and their own lips behind it. All things considered it was a good first kiss… except Davepeta didn’t pull back after a moment. Instead, they tilted their head and pushed forwards a little bit, catching John’s bottom lip between their sharp teeth and toying with it. John heard the softest crunch possible as his hand tightened on his cone, threatening its stability with his anxiety.

     Anxiety? What was there to be anxious about? A really attractive sprite was kissing him and… John sighed out a soft breath and relaxed more, kissing them back.

     Ice cream melted down over his fist in thin rivulets by the time Davepeta let him loose, grinning and flushing a gentle shade of green over their pearlescent features.

     “...Wow,” John said eventually, grinning. Lovestruck. Fuck, he did have it bad, and he couldn’t care less who knew right then. “Oh, shit,” he hissed upon realizing his ice cream was melting so fast, licking along his fist before stuffing some of the mound into his mouth and biting down. Another hiss and he tossed his head back to huff warmer air as he swallowed the treat down with a grimace, groaning under his breath. “Augh, brain freeze, brain freeze!”

     “Hah! Who even gets brain freeze from ice cream,” chuckled Davepeta, taking a large bite of their own quickly melting treat before grimacing and tilting their head back with a quiet groan.

     “Oh, I’m sorry, did a certain sprite get brain freeze too? Hmm? After razzing me about mine? How convenient, it’s almost like karma!”

     Sulking, Davepeta lapped the ice cream away from their hand before munching on the sweet cone, glad to be free of the pain in their teeth and head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Victory is sweet or whatever,” they snorted.

     When John finished his cone, he rubbed his hand on his pants without a second thought to clean and dry his fingers of the residue, then leaned back and looked up towards the sky.

     “Hey, Davepeta. Since you asked why I said yes earlier… why did you ask me out?” John asked, glancing over briefly before looking to the sky again. “I mean. You kind of have your choice of everyone in the world, why me?”

     “Because I like you,” Davepeta replied simply. “The parts of me like you too, in their own ways, but at the end of the day you’re precious to me. And I wanted to try keeping you by my side.”

     Birds sang overhead and behind them for a moment as the air settled between their realities, binding them together in the air they breathed. Davepeta soon scooted closer, twining around John’s nearest arm and resting their head on his shoulder in the quiet peace.

     “I was worried you wouldn’t say yes at first. That you’d think I was joking or something,” Davepeta admitted, before grinning up at him. “But then you said yes and it’s  been great so far!”

     “All we’ve done is eat so far,” John laughed.

     “Well, yeah, but we’ve also…” trailed off Davepeta, catching John in another kiss. There was no ice cream to worry about this time, no timer in the back of his head, no cold against his mouth. John could feel the slight cleft of their upper lip, the strong press of their mouth, the soft give of their lower lip as they parted naturally against his own. Instead of teasing his lower lip this time, Davepeta began to press against his side more fully. John felt the push of their breasts again and hitched his breath, but the pressure only increased. Slow and steady, Davepeta coaxed John to the side, getting him to lay mostly on his back on the fallen log as they leaned over him, weight welcoming and warm against his chest.

     John’s mind blanked. All he was able to focus on was tactile sensation now, warmth and pressure, birdsong, the feeling of breath against his face, of long legs straddling his thighs and caging his upper body in place. When Davepeta deepened the kiss, he followed without even thinking of it, opening his mouth in invitation and groaning under his breath when he felt the first slip of their tongue against his own. The aftertaste of key lime pie was still there, sweet and welcoming as fingers combed through his hair bit by bit.

     Unsure of where to put his own hands, John settled first for resting his hands on Davepeta’s waist, kneading at their hips the longer the kisses went on. Slowly though, ever so slowly, Davepeta lowered a hand and grasped one of John’s, pulling it up further along their long body towards their chest. He hesitated, trying to stall his hand for a moment, but Davepeta’s insistence soothed his concerns. Eventually, John had a hand full of breast he didn’t know what to do with, and broke the kiss to gasp for air.

     “I- What’s. Are you sure? I mean, I’m kinda-” John murmured embarrassedly, glancing from Davepeta’s eyes down between them where his hand rested. Further down he was trying and failing to keep his body calm, already half erect again and just fucking praying in the back of his mind that his date didn’t notice how little control he had over himself. He couldn’t arch his back away from them to hide it, after all, the bit of tent was there for them to observe if they moved forward at all.

     “If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have put your hand there,” purred Davepeta, grin widening when John gave a gentle, hesitant knead of the flesh beneath the shirt. “Have you got any idea how long I’ve wanted your hands on me..?”

     John had assumed things didn’t work like the movies, and yet here he was, with a ridiculously attractive person straddling him and putting a hand on their chest as if it belonged there. ...It did feel pretty damn nice, soft and warm. He understood the appeal of them more intrinsically now, and decided that since it seemed to be okay to be there, that… perhaps he could be a bit more daring. His hand ventured lower again before slipping beneath Davepeta’s shirt, riding up over their pearly skin to the base of their bra and up over the cup. When there was no sign of this being a negative, he bit his lip and slid his fingertips inside the front of the bra, feeling at their bared skin as if he were trying to memorize it.

     Davepeta ground their hips down and forwards gently, and John saw white for a moment, hand stilling. Whoops, okay, apparently he was a little more than half erect now. His brows lifted in surprise as he huffed a breath out, though Davepeta merely purred at him again, leaning forwards and down to kiss at the side of his neck, pulling his collar back out of the way to expose more flesh to their mouth. Another grind, and John’s fingers squeezed more firmly, earning him a groan of appreciation.

     ...Okay. Okay, that was a nice sound, how could he get more of those.

     “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

     “Maybe another time,” Davepeta murmured against his throat, smirking and giggling a bit when John tensed up and held his breath in. “I’m kidding… I mean it, but I’m just teasing right now,” they tried to clarify. “I don’t think either of us are quite ready for that yet.” Getting John to touch a boob was one thing, getting him calm enough to handle a very different set of genitals might be something entirely different. It was hard to tell, really, just how much effort their mutual interests might take to have happen.

     That helped and didn’t help, but John’s brain was soon plenty occupied by Davepeta continuing to rock their hips, upper body swaying against his palm and fingers as the breast he’d been teasing slid free of the bra entirely to rest overtop of the fabric.

     “Gimme another kiss,” John murmured softly against Davepeta’s pointed ear, free hand raising to comb through their hair when their lips locked once more. All it took was a few strokes to the horn for them to groan once more, deepening the kiss with an eager lick.

     The pair moved in tandem easily after that, grinding together at the hip lazy and slow, John kneading at their chest and playing with their horns whenever he could remember to get his hands working, Davepeta bracing their upper body on the tree trunk beneath them and trying to not bite John too hard whenever he broke the kiss to nip and kiss at his throat.

     It felt natural.

     It felt normal.

     It felt like they’d been doing this for ages instead of it being spur of the moment, caught up in one another’s charms so thoroughly that time held no meaning anymore. It was just them, nature, and the sunlight showering down on them from above. 

     Davepeta gently scratched at John’s sides whenever he focused both hands on their chest or their horns, and outright moaned when he left a hickey on the nape of their neck. He took his time with it, not wanting to hurt them, but also wanting to make it solid, a primal part of his brain wanting to show that not only he’d been there but that he’d been so welcomed there he could take his time and make something like that stand out. When he pulled back to check his work, the top edge of it looked so pretty peeking out over the top hem of the collar that he hummed and ducked down to boldly add a few more pearls to the string he had started.

     The grinding eventually slowed to a stop, and Davepeta rolled, dragging John along with them to the ground, soft moss against the edge of the log giving way to the rich looking grass that spread out beyond them like a blanket. Their hair was mussed, their cheeks were flushed, and neither of them wanted to be apart for any length of time. They wound up side by side, watching each other’s face and eyes through crooked glasses and shades as the clouds rolled on overhead. A bird lit upon the space they’d been sitting on, twittered at them till one of Davepeta’s ears twitched, and then flew off once more.

     Davepeta smirked, amused.

     “...And to think, I thought you might be kind of shy!”

     “Me? Shy?” John asked, confused. “I don’t think I’m that shy..”

     “Maybe it’s just because you’re smaller than me, you give off this kind of shy air,” Davepeta admitted. “But geeze, once you get used to something it’s like you were made for it!” they teased.

     John flushed, but smirked back, crooked teeth giving his face an impish appearance.

     “Well. You started it, to be fair.”

     “Finished it too,” Davepeta said proudly.

     “...Wanna have another date next weekend?”

     “Of course!”

     “My place? We can watch movies and stuff.”

     Davepeta lifted their chin and pecked John’s forehead, right between his brows.

     “I’m aware your taste in movies sucks, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to make them all entertaining anyway,” they laughed.

     “Hey! I’ll have you know, my taste in movies is fantastic, and your information is outdated! Trust me, movie date will be perfect. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll-”

     “Nicolas Cage is banned.”

     “...Oh so that’s how it’s gonna be,” John said, smirking when Davepeta laughed again, their voice like bells. “Well how about THIS,” he said, hands jutting out to attack their sides with tickling fingers, laughing when they started to kick and giggle at him, wings flapping a few times behind their body against the grass.

     “Uncle! Uncle!! Ahaha!”

     John kissed their nose as he stopped tickling them, and settled back on his side.

     “Okay, okay. ...But Nic stays. Trust me, he’s worth it. I’ve come to appreciate his work all over again over the years.”

     “Whatever you say, John,” Davepeta chuckled, satisfied with how the day had gone. “Whatever you say.”

[painterofhorizons]

Floating Year WIP

What better way to end a year then with writing? And what better thing to work on than the one I had most fun with this year? So with 6 minutes left until new year here, have a snippet of the continuation of the sparkling dildo story, aye? :D Alex’ first time going to a sex shop. Because.

Have a good one, folks, and see you on the other side.

They had just entered the store when Alex leaned over to Dave and muttered quietly “This… isn’t exactly how I imagined it.”

Dave laughed. “Is that so?” With a surpressed smile #frozen to the corners of his lips he added “By the way, you don’t have to whisper, right?”

Alex cleared her throat, shooting him a somewhat annoyed, somewhat amused and somewhat embarrassed look. “Right. Of course not. I know, right? And I have no idea what you are even talking about.”

They had hardly been here for ten seconds and Alex wasn’t sure this could become more embarrassing at any point. She didn’t even know why it gave her so many unwelcome emotions at all, like - she was the least prude person she knew? And if she would be here with Tonks or Garcia, it would probably just be really fun and silly and -

No. Just imagining being here with Garcia gave her a stroke. But with Tonks? Fun. Totally fun. No doubt about that. With Dave though? Maybe that put a little too much unexpected pressure on her. Not only being here, but being here for the first time under the careful watch of her husband, who knew her better than she knew herself.

Dave could read her just like he always could read her. “Relaxe” he whispered. “And if you don’t want-”

“Shut up and let’s - yah. Whatever we are doing.”

Alex took a breath and told herself not to act out shy in here. There was literally not a single reason for that, right? So she could as well try to enjoy it. Considering she was generally someone who liked shopping as a leasure activity… Which she definitely did not. Part of her still did not see why they were here at all, but if it made Dave happy, she would give it a shot nevertheless.

At second sight, the shop still looked very different to what the part of her brain had imagined that had thought about it. This place was super straight and clean with white being the dominating colour of everything but the actual goods of demand. And still it made a rather welcoming and warm impression on her, maybe because of the cleanliness the place withheld. White walls, white straight furniture, nothing playful or pink or red - but it did not give the location a sterile feeling. It looked… classy. Even the toys that Alex could see were well chosen in their appearence, not too many different colours, not to speak of any really screaming colours. In the end, this place was the complete opposite of the intensily eye shocking thing Garcia had given her with best intentions.

With a smirk, Dave sideeyed her. “While we’re at it. Where did you think I would take you when we made this plan?”

Alex frowned, not getting how he could even ask that. “I don’t know, like - I mean I never thought any of this would happen between us, okay? Now that you ask and I think about it, yes, this is probably exactly where I thought you would take me, like, if I had ever thought about it before which I did not have so stop asking such dumbass questions.”

Another chuckle escaped Dave.

Alex’ sarcastic undertone stayed with them for a little while, while she tried to getting used to the situation. “Great. Awesome. So, now that we’re here, what do we do? Is there a directive for shopping in a place like this?”

“I strongly doubt that.”

“Great. Then go and lead the way or something.” Alex gestured wildly at no specific direction. “And just for the record, this is the craziest shit we have ever done, okay?”

Dave bit back a response. Considering all the things they had done, said and seen since they knew each other, he would indeed very much argue with Alex on this one. But not right now, and it was very amusing to see this quite unexpected side of Alex.

[eternaleve]

Watching A Broken Frame music videos for the first time!

Carrying on with my Depeche Mode video rewatch project with the vids for A Broken Frame (first post is found here https://eternaleve.tumblr.com/post/624649762286780416/ive-spent-the-course-of-covid-lockdown-cycling)

I looked through my vinyl and found I did not steal my mother’s Depeche Mode singles from this album (I only stole all her Elvis Costello and Joy Division and a bunch of Japan singles which I suspect she snuck to me in hopes of making me like them) but they are all mysteriously gone. My abusive stepdad recently moved out and I have thoughts about what property he took, but this just seems petty. 

Anyway, let’s talk about A Broken Frame! Vince Clarke left the band to go and be the Paul McCartney of 80s electronic music, forming Yazoo and Erasure. Apparently he did not like success and touring and stuff, which is far because it’s a lot of pressure, so he’s out and Alan Wilder is in after responding to an ad in Melody Maker. Remember music journalism? He joined as a tour keyboardist and appears in the videos for the album, but didn’t contribute to the album.

 A Broken Frame was released eleven months after Speak & Spell, which doesn’t seem to be enough time to me for a band to create another whole album's worth of material. It just seems that a band spends a few years perfecting their sound and a selection of songs, and then a record label says, ‘Great! Now do the same thing, but in a much shorter timeframe, under much more stress, and in snatched moments between being shuttled from gig venue to gig venue!’. I understand there’s a ~hype train~ that music acts have to follow, because bands can slip out of notice so fricking quickly, but the pressure does not seem set up to maintain the mental and emotional well-being of people. I’m sure nothing like that will happen in the history of this bad though!

This album cover is considered one of the world’s greatest photographs for a reason. It’s stark and beautiful and has echoes of socialist realism and is just a really striking image. I don’t know who has final say over art direction in the band but whoever does has a great eye for images. The picture is taken over by Duxford and as I’m from the Midlands I have been to Duxford on a hundred school trips (it has a big air centre with WW2 planes and things and bits of the Berlin Wall), so I’ve probably been past this field an uncountable number of times without even realising it.

See You (Jan 1982, No 6 UK charts)

I like how it looks like fuzzy felt. It feels very, very different from the singles art from the last album, I guess to indicate a clear difference in direction? Maybe? This is the first single for the band written by Martin Gore and starting his reign as songwriter.

All the music videos for this album were directed by Julien Temple and are Not Liked by the band. I generally quite like Julien Temple’s work and watched a lot of it as a teen (stepdad being hugely into the Pistols), so I am intrigued to say the least how these will turn out to be.

This does give me a bit of a nostalgia kick for an old-fashioned style train station. It’s pretty much what my home station used to look like before everything was privatised, bought out by Virgin, turned bright red and full of commuters. I like how the station sparks to the beat of the music and that someone okayed an actual spending budget for this time around.

YOU HAVE TO LEAVE THE STATION THE PHOTOBOOTH IS HAUNTED

Not going to lie, this looks 100% like my Dad’s first ever passport photo. I like the addition of the bowtie. It adds a real ‘First Communion’ vibe to the whole look. The nose stud… well, I had a nose stud at the exact same period of my life. Same age too, I think, only mine stayed around a lot longer when it definitely should not have done.

It was at that moment he knew he had made a grave mistake in confronting the ‘Telephone Box Killer’ on his own.

Insert a standard ‘Original Selfie’ joke here. The use of the photobooth gives a cute little through line in the video, as well as giving other band members a chance to be present. I remember using photobooths to take fun photos, before they started costing so much goddamned money and put them only in the most inconvenient places. I still have a bunch that I keep in my purse.

… And now everyone’s working an office job? To show the passage of time? Or because it’s now a bit with music, so we’re showing the use of keyboards through office equipment that sort of requires you to make similar hand movements?

Something, something, statement about technology? The photobooth theme was fine! It was cute! It said something about the regret and passage of time from teen to young adult romance! Why are there now a lot of calculators?

Just in case you forgot - the single’s out now. Wink, wink.

But let’s go back and check in with our corporate overlords. Bob, how are you doing on the spyware floor?

… is this Julien Temple? Is it a music video within a music video? Did he put himself in the video? Could this part not have been done by a member of the band? Like, y’know, that new one who was clearly added in partly through this video?

I like the main core storyline of the video - thinking about a past relationship and then happening to run into them again unexpectedly - but I can see why this is perhaps not well thought of. Next one!

The Meaning of Love (April 82, No 12 UK charts)

This reminds me a lot of the cover for the first Adrian Mole book which was published the same year. It does not match the first single at all or the album, but I guess the album art was yet to be done? Or maybe two different departments handled them, because I would have gone with a different single cover if I knew that one of the greatest photographs of all time was in the wings for the album.

Reader, my heart dropped. I knew we were in for some deeply 80s bullshit. And, like, not good 80s bullshit.

This is the lounge act in the cruiseship of my nightmares

Martin Gore there looking like 99% of the lesbians on the DIY punk scene.

What the fuck is going on?

What, and I must reiterate, the fuck is going on? Are those pies? Pie eyes? Pie eye glasses? What does it mean?

Now’s not the time for your science homework, it’s time to film a music video.

Great, I know what image will be repeating in my night terrors tonight. Martin Gore’s face earnestly singing at me from the depths of a paramecium.

THIS JUST GETS WORSE AND WORSE. THERE IS NO SITUATION ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET MADE BETTER WITH PUPPETS.

No, my night paralysis nightmare will be Dave Gahan’s face turning into a fucking pie over and over and over again.

Oh, I see, the Meaning of Love is that your wife will turn into a bitter harpy that won’t let you live your dream and also your life is ruined because she keeps letting the puppets sleep in the bed.

I guess the video has a sort of XTC vibe? It does remind me of the video of ‘Making Plans for Nigel’, which I do like, but also this video is fucking awful should be seen to be believed. I liked the band’s awkward choreography which was four men showing how much they did not want to be doing any of this.

Leave In Silence (August 82, No 18)

The font is nice. That’s about all there is to say for this. It doesn’t match the other two singles. I’m not saying everything has to be matchy-matchy, but it is nice to have visual similarity and consistency. This looks like the record label gave up on trying.

Okay, so we’ve got the album art sorted and starting out with a - I guess you could call it ‘low rural farming vocalisation’, and neither of these two things match the other singles or music videos, which have had a very poppy, teen girl, Smash Hits vibe. 

This week on The Generation Game, you could win a stainless steel bowl, a cuddly toy, and the lead singer of Depeche Mode!

This video started with a group of people vocalising while pouring out grain and looking very plaguecore, now we’re all playing around on a conveyor belt because I think Julien Temple has run out of ideas and is being artsy and surreal and weird to cover that up.

Ladies and gentleman, I’m sad to say that ‘The Fanciest Little Cowboy’ competition will not be running this year due to a lack of other contestants. This is a very fancy Little Cowboy though.

…. I…. what? 

I have seen many bad, bad, bad cursed images in my time, but this is going straight up to the top. What the fuck does this say about the song? The band? The image the record label is trying to project? This pointless weird imagery for the sake of being pointless and weird.

It’s okay, Jess. Bright Red Martin Gore can’t really hurt you. Only haunt you.

And now spacehoppers. Because of course spacehoppers!

The players from Pathologic show up to make a cameo appearance, matching nothing in the video, and seeming wildly out of place with everything else. Pick a theme or story, Julien! It is EITHER the Generation Game OR a terrifying children’s show OR guttural Soviet inspired plaguecore. You can pick one! Not all of them!

The Blue Man Group really had a rough start. The wheat is… just there. Because I guess Julien Temple couldn’t think of how to organically weave it an advertisement for the album. So there’s just a bundle of wheat for no good reason.

By this point, same, mate. That is the only reaction I am having.

These videos were… not great. I think ‘See You’ is the best and most cohesive - it tells a cute little story that ties in with the themes of the song and provides an emotional resonance. And then things just go off the bloody chain a bit. They get weird and experimental in a way that does not work in selling the band or the song. They seem pretty disconnected from what a music video should be and Julien Temple seemed to just run out of ideas by ‘Leave In Silence’. C- Mr Temple, must try harder.

And then onto Construction Time Again! ... well, when I get round to it. In a few days maybe.

[tamedol-blog]

Nightlife (G.D.)

Summary: Y/N spends a drunken night with Grayson at his fraternity house, which results in slurred words, exposed feelings…..and nearly getting hit by a car.

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: I love Frat! Grayson so so much, so I wanted to write my own version of him! Also, this is my first fanfic! I hope you enjoy hehe :)

You drank a little too much tonight. Well…...little was most definitely an understatement, considering it took you a good amount of time to form cohesive sentences by the end of the night. It was the weekend after final exams, and you desperately needed to release all of the stress that had been building up inside of you for the past few weeks. Your best friend Grayson was a new member of Phi Beta Sigma and they were hosting a party at their house, so you’d immediately agreed to come with your friends before he could even get the question out.

However, one thing led to another; your friend Meghan had announced five minutes after arriving that she was running off with a guy named Jake (or maybe his name was Blake….you couldn’t hear properly over the deafening music), your other friend Rebecca managed to find the girl she’d been crushing on the whole semester, so of course she made her way over to offer her a drink and tell some corny pickup line, and you were left scanning the crowd for Grayson amongst the drunk teens and strobe lights. He told you to text him when you arrived, but knowing how awful he is at checking his texts and assuming he was busy probably dancing behind some girl, you knew better than to expect a response.

You searched the entire first floor of the house and there was no sign of Grayson, so you officially came to the conclusion that he had already scooped up some girl for the night, and decided to have some fun on your own.

You weaved through the sweaty college students, who were jumping up and down with their red solo cups in front of the DJ station in the large empty area in the center of the house. Once you made it out of the back door you let out a long sigh of relief, finally being able to inhale air that didn’t smell like weed and Bud Light.

Grayson had told you a few weeks prior to the party that he’d bought a bottle of Malibu for you, which he knew was your absolute favorite. He left it in the back room, where all of the frat members keep what they call the “good stuff” — meaning everything else but the cheap beer they provided to the students at their parties. The back room was off-limits to everyone else but the members of the fraternity, but since you were at the house so often with Grayson, most of the members knew who you were and didn’t mind you being back there.

You push open the creaky door, using the flashlight on your phone to scan the pitch black room for your bottle of rum. Your eyes light up once you see the tall white bottle and you immediately run to the shelf, filling a solo cup to the rim and shoving the bottle in your purse. You take a large gulp, instantly feeling better at the feeling of the coconut-flavored drink slipping down your throat.

“Yo, what the fuck are you doing in here?”

You immediately halt your actions when you hear a deep voice boom from behind you. You can physically feel the heat rush to your cheeks. You’re too terrified to turn around, expecting to see a security guard standing at the entrance.

Before you could even respond, you hear the familiar wheezy laugh that you adore. It’s Grayson. You immediately whip around to see him bent over, chuckling loudly at your terrified state. You beamed at the sight of him wearing the jean jacket that you’d bought him over Spring Break (which he actually wasn’t too fond of — but if it meant he got to see your pretty smile, he’d wear it whenever you were around).

“It’s not funny, you fucking jerk. I thought I was about to be arrested or something. How did you even know it was me?,” you question, making your way over to him and pulling him into a one-armed hug.

“I’d recognize this long hair anywhere,” he shrugs, lifting a strand of your straight hair and wiggling it around. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? You should’ve texted me and I would’ve come to find you.” He takes one last sip of his beer before crushing the can with his hand and throwing it over his shoulder.

You scoff at his remark, taking three large gulps from your drink.

“Gray, I texted you when I got here, dummy. I literally looked everywhere for you, but I figured you were sucking faces with some sorority bitch, so I came to get a drink.”

He furrows his brows, pulling his phone out from his front pocket, eyes bouncing around the bright screen before smiling sheepishly at you.

“Oops?”

You roll your eyes and gently shove his shoulder before he wraps an arm around you, leading you out of the dark room.

“So, where were you hiding, Dolan?”

He wanted to tell you that he’d just been up in his room, attempting to clean the jumbled pile of clothing that accumulated after he’d spent almost an hour scavenging for this jean jacket - but he knew that’d come off a little too strong.

“I was dealing with one of my fraternity brothers. Dave got blackout drunk before the fucking party even started,” he lies, walking ahead of you and towards the entrance to the house.

You furrow your brows in confusion; you’d just seen Dave on your way outside, and he seemed perfectly awake and sober, but you let it go.

“Well, you’re with me now, and I’m starting to feel realllyyyy good, so let’s get out onto this dance floor now and show everyone our groovy fucking dance moves,” you exclaim excitedly, taking his hand in yours and running towards the crowd. He laughs loudly, partially because there was no dance floor, but also because he was in awe at how absolutely adorable you were.

You finish your drink before the song even ends, and before you know it, you’re amongst the large crowd, grinding against Grayson to the rap song booming throughout the house. Sober you would never dance against your best friend like this, but that’s the thing — you were so far from sober, and Grayson wasn’t too far behind you on the drunken scale, so he didn’t seem to mind.

You turn around in his grip, lazily wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your toes to put your mouth right by his ear.

“Wanna go upstairs with you,” you yell sloppily, swaying your hips to the beat. Grayson smiles softly and stares at you with hooded eyes, shaking his head slowly.

“We’re not sober, Y/N. Also, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t feel the same way if we were.”

“Yeah I would,” you confess eagerly, biting your lip and leaning in closer to him.

“Mmmm…..don’t think so. Let’s just chill out a lil, alright?,” he yells into your ear.

You feel your heart sink in your chest. Even drunk Grayson didn’t want to give you a chance. You couldn’t believe that you’d just asked Grayson to fuck and he said no. What kind of guy declines sex?

He sees your smile fade and immediately feels guilty for his refusal. It’s not that he didn’t want to sleep with you — he’s wanted that for months, but he would never take advantage of you, and considering you’d downed three-quarters of a bottle of rum in just a couple of minutes, he was almost positive your judgements were clouded.

“How about this,” Grayson begins, lifting your arm and spinning you around so you’re facing away from him before he slowly slides his hand underneath your shirt and letting them rest above your waistband, sending shivers throughout your body.

“If we have this conversation in the morning and your statement still stands, I’ll be more than happy to bring you upstairs whenever you want,” he mumbles into your ear, pressing a soft kiss against your temple and making you giggle.

“Deal.”

You continue to dance with Grayson until you feel a familiar feeling of nausea in your stomach. You stop in your tracks and quickly remove his arms from around your waist.

“Gonna puke,” you yell, covering your mouth with your hand before shoving your way through students, not caring about the dirty looks you’re currently receiving. Grayson’s following behind you as close as he can, apologizing to the students you’d previously just harshly bumped into.

Grayson catches up with you as you stumble to the front yard of the house, attempting to bend over, which results in you toppling over into the grass. He tries his hardest not to laugh at the view in front of him — you’re groaning loudly from the fall, sprawled out against the grass with your eyes squeezed close. He strides over to you, scooping you up in his arms bridal-style and beginning to walk down the sidewalk.

“Where are you going? Not done partying yet,” you slur, leaning your head back and letting it hang downward. Grayson chuckles softly.

“You’re done for tonight, Y/N. I’m taking you back to your dorm.”

“Wanna sleep in your bed, Gray….”

“I know you do, but I also don’t wanna get yelled at in the morning if I let you sleep with your makeup on, and I have nothing to take it off with at the house.”

“What a weak excuse,” you snarl, rolling your eyes.

“You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He continues to carry you down the street for about ten minutes until you suddenly begin to wiggle out of his grip, firmly planting your feet on the ground.

“I can walk on my own, I’m not dead,” you mumble lazily, nearly falling into the busy street the second you take a step. Grayson snorts, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and guiding you down the street.

“Still too stubborn to let me carry you? We’ve got about another five minute walk until we’re there.”

“M’ a grown woman, Grayson. Plus, don’t want your arms getting tired.”

He snorts. “Yeah, you’re a drunk grown woman, and if I can carry Ethan around, I can definitely carry you.”

“I know you have a crush on me, Gray. Just tell me.”

He laughs softly at your sudden switch of topic, tightening his grip as he practically pushes you down the sidewalk. The process would be much easier and less time consuming if you’d just let him carry you, but you were extremely stubborn — even when you were wasted.

“Yeah? How do you know?,” he questions, smiling softly.

“It’s obvious. I’ve known since the first day of classes when you carried all 5 of my textbooks across the campus to my room.”

“You would’ve struggled if I hadn’t helped.”

“What about when you kissed me at the Delta Chi party?”

“We were playing Truth or Dare.”

“You could’ve kissed anyone playing,” you scoff. Grayson remains silent, mentally thankful that his red cheeks couldn’t be seen underneath the dark sky.

“What about when you called me the prettiest girl in the room that one time?,” you interrogate.

“You were complaining about that douchebag that stood you up, it felt like the right thing to say.”

“So you think I’m ugly?” You turn to look at him with a smirk.

“What is this, reverse psychology? You’re not ugly and you know it.”

“What about all those times you waited for me outside of my class with my favorite bagel and an iced latte from Bagel Baker?” you look over at him with raised eyebrows.

“I was just…...being thoughtful.”

“Why won’t you just admit it?,” you exclaim, stopping in your tracks and attempting to shove him off you, which clearly didn’t happen, considering you’re half his size.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Can we talk about this when neither of us have alcohol in our systems?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“If we don’t discuss this now, I will run into the street, Grayson.”

“Y/N, you’re being ridiculous. Stop.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m feeling a little wild tonight.”

“Stop.”

“Freshman year is almost over. Speak now or I’ll go home, find a cute boy to date this summer, and block you on Instagram and Snapchat.”

“You wouldn’t.”

You sigh heavily, lazily throwing your head back.

“You leave me no choice, Dolan.”

Before Grayson can grab you and place you on the other side of the sidewalk, you’re ripping yourself from his grip and quickly stumbling out into the empty road, plopping down onto the street and smiling mischievously. Grayson groans, walking out and attempting to reach for your arms, but you lean back and begin to kick your feet at his grabby hands, giggling like a child.

“Y/N, stop before we both get hit by a car and don’t even live to confess our feelings.”

“Nope,” you shrug, popping the P. “Stop being a little bitch and avoiding the question, how about that?”

Grayson squints his eyes at you, but before he can respond, he sees the headlights he was dreadfully anticipating coming down the road. He’s swiftly putting his arms underneath yours, lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder while walking back over to the sidewalk.

You begin to protest and squirm in his arms, but Grayson just smacks your butt gently, making you squeal.

“We can talk about this in the safety of your dorm room, but dying really isn’t on the agenda for tonight.”

-

“Sit still.”

“I can’t, I’m tired.”

“You’d think that being tired would make you sit still, not make you more antsy,” Grayson mumbles, laughing softly as he slowly rubs the makeup wipe across your puckered lips to get the remaining bit of lipstick off.

“Shut up, I’m delusional and drunk.” You sigh contently, resting your head against the pillow as your eyes flutter shut. Grayson rubs the makeup wipe across your skin once more before tossing them in the trash and placing his hands on the bottom of your shirt. “Arms up.”

“I thought you didn’t wanna have sex?,” you question, lips turning up into a smirk as you wiggle your eyebrows.

“I do, but not now. I’m trying to change you out of this tight shirt.” He shakes his head, grabbing your arms and placing them above your head before peeling off your shirt.

“So you do wanna sleep with me?”

He nods silently, continuing to dig through your drawer until he found a large t-shirt.

“But is that all you want from me? Sex?”

He immediately whips his head towards you, furiously shaking his head. He stands from his squatting position, lifting your arms once more and slipping the shirt over your head.

“I wouldn’t break my back for you every chance I get if all I wanted was sex.” He gives you a large toothy smile and winks, hands moving to your waistband to remove your jeans.

You smile softly, lifting your hips to help him. “Roommate’s not coming back tonight, you can sleep here if you want.” You snuggle under the covers, shutting your eyes.

“There’s definitely not enough room for the both of us in your twin sized bed.”

“I guess you’ll have to cuddle me all night.” You peek one eye open to see Grayson staring at you with a wide smile.

He contemplates it; he wanted nothing more than to slip in bed behind you and cuddle you tightly all night, but he was terrified of you waking up in the morning and regretting all of your decisions from tonight.

“Not tonight. I’ll call you in the morning, alright?” He reaches into your fridge to grab a water bottle to put on your bedside table, but when he turns around after not receiving a whine or a sassy remark from you, he sees you’re already fast asleep.

He lets out a breathy laugh, placing the water on the table and gently running his hand through your hair.

Grayson sits in your desk chair for a moment, watching your chest slowly rise and fall, lips slightly parted and hair sprawled across your pillow. He silently prayed that you weren’t drunk enough to have tonight’s events erased from your memory; he finally admitted that he liked you…...well, kinda. He’d work on the details later.

He couldn’t believe he’d met someone as chaotic as you — but at the same time, you were absolutely perfect in all the right ways to him.

-

Your eyes peel open to the sight of rays of sunlight beaming through your slightly parted curtains. You let out a soft yawn, attempting to sit up to grab Advil before the throbbing headache kicked in when you felt a restraint around your waist. You quickly turn around to see Grayson laying behind you, lips parted and letting out snores every few seconds. You giggle softly, plugging his nose, which makes his eyes shoot open.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” You smile softly, ruffling his hair. Grayson slowly sits up and winces, tilting his head side to side.

“I think I broke my neck from sleeping without a pillow. You hogged it all night.”

You roll your eyes, slipping from your bed and grabbing the medicine bottle. “Of course I did. It’s my bed.”

“You invited me to sleep here, remember?”

“I remember, but you said you were leaving, which meant no sharing of pillows.”

“I stayed to make sure you didn’t throw up in your sleep or somethin.”

You smirk and raise your brows. “Yeah, that’s why you stayed.”

“So…..you didn’t forget anything from last night?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…..drank a bottle of Malibu, danced with you, tried to fuck you, almost threw up in your front yard, almost got us hit by a car, came back here, you took off my makeup, which I appreciate by the way. Then you stripped me and we said some stuff. I think that’s everything.”

He nods, smiling sheepishly and rubbing his neck.

“So, now that we’re sober, do you still like me?” You pop two pills in your mouth and wash them down with water, staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks turn a light shade of red and he nods slowly. “Yeah, I do, but I didn’t hear you admit any feelings for me all night.”

You hop back into your bed, placing a leg on either side of him and straddling him. He leans back against the pillow, placing his arms above his head and smirking at you. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his nose, and then to both of his cheeks, and then his lips.

You pull away, placing your face inches away from his.

“Of course I like you, idiot.” You press another kiss to his lips before moving over to his ear.

“If the offer still stands, I still wanna fuck you.”

You both laugh softly and Grayson begins to slide his hands underneath your shirt, lifting it above your head.

“Of course it does, idiot.”

[intubatedangel]

Barista’s Bad Heart - part 9

(Long part here, a lot of exposition, but it’s fairly important as Anna Swift and the team at Memorial are going to be the main characters of many of my stories going forward. Like a TV medical drama, you’ll see these guys often, but the patients will still get their own introductory part or parts. Hope you enjoy.)

Part 1: https://intubatedangel.tumblr.com/post/183302348002/baristas-bad-heart-part-1 

Other links at the bottom.

***

Advanced Nurse Practitioner Anna Swift leaned against the counter in the centre of the main triage room. She signed off a chart, dropping it into the discharged pile, then picked up her tea. She was young enough, only 26, that she hadn’t lost enough taste buds to handle the grim brown liquid that passed as coffee. She sipped the warm tea and turned to look around the room. Laid out in a hexagon, it was the hub of the emergency department, where patients were initially assessed then shifted to the relevant ward. There were a dozen cubicles in this central room alone, with portable beds to allow patients to be shuffled around easily and efficiently.

 Wide sets of double doors led through to additional cubicles for varying degrees of severity. Each set of doors had large painted panels denoting their intended patients. The blue doors were the minor injuries ward, though most of the staff referred to it as HC, hypochondriac central. Small cuts, basic colds, pretty much anything that could have been sorted by the patient themselves, went through those doors.

 Yellow doors led through to the main treatment ward, simplified to TR by the staff. Simple fractures, bad cuts, sprains and illnesses, anything actually needing treatment or observation went through those doors. It was the biggest of the wards, capable of accommodating over 40 patients without any body sitting on a bed in a corridor.

 Red was the High Severity Unit, HSU. This was for patients that were in potentially serious trouble and needed close observation. Badly broken bones, head injuries and the like. Things that had a chance of suddenly becoming life threatening. 20 patients could be treated, and crash carts were scattered across the ward in case a patient deteriorated. It had its own set of elevators to the radiology department and an internal corridor to the next ward. The ward that had black panels on its doors.

 The Resus Suite was where the life and death action happened. It had access to the ambulance bay to get patients in quick. It was the crowning glory of the Trauma Centres reputation. 12 fully equipped rooms, ready to handle anything the city had to throw at it. It even had a pair of Trauma Theatre’s, and a surgical team on standby. A helicopter pad on the roof had elevators directly to the Resus Suite.

 The Resus Suite was Anna’s primary domain. She would cover the other wards when it was quiet, as she had been doing today, but as soon as that red phone rang, she could drop everything and go to where she thrived. Her gaze fell upon it. It sat on the central column behind the circular counter. It hadn’t rung all day. Somehow, the bustling city had avoided grinding anyone up over the last 8 hours. A couple of minor car crashes, one stabbing and an old lady who tripped over thin air and broke her hip, but nothing that set that phone ringing. Every patient had been conscious and stable as they were brought in.

 “You’d better not be hoping for that phone to ring Anna.” Said a voice behind her. The words were a reprimand, but the tone was friendly, almost playful. She turned to see Doctor Carl Teague, 30 years old, with sandy hair a short, sculpted beard. He was like Anna. They were both young for their positions, he was already an ED consultant, leading their team. Anna had been working with him for two years now. They’d been sleeping together for 6 months.

 “I’m thinking nothing of the sort.” She replied, a look of mock outrage on her face. “I was merely considering that my skills might be being wasted over in HC.”

 He rolled his eyes, filling his current chart in the discharge box. “Think of it this way,” he said quietly, leaning over the counter towards her, “a quiet day, means we have more energy for fun later on.”

 Anna checked that no was watching. “Easy boy. Remember, not at work.” Despite seeing each other for six months, no one at the hospital officially knew they were in a more than professional relationship. It was starting to become a point of contention between them, and she saw him frown slightly. “Soon. Okay. I just want to make sure everyone knows I’m leading because I’m good enough. Not because I’m entangled with the ED’s golden boy.”

 “You’ve proved that time and again already.” He said. “I just…”

 The red phone rang.

 ***

 Anna stood in the ambulance bay, bristling with that nervous energy that always filled her when a hard case came her way. Excitement wasn’t quite the right word for it. It was tension, focus, determination all wrapped into one. There was also an undercurrent of concern and fear, that they might fail. But she had enough experience to keep that buried deep enough that it wouldn’t impact her performance.

 In the six minutes since the red phone had called them, Anna had gathered up her team. Like a well-oiled machine they knew their roles and could have probably run a code in silence, such was their experience together. Carl had grabbed his current shadow, a young F1 junior doctor. She was clearly nervous, her fingers tugging on the hem of her head scarf.

 They all knew the rough details, mid 20’s girl in full cardiac arrest, sudden onset, no trauma. The sirens broke through the air, the ambulance rapidly approaching. Carl gave his orders.

 “Ok guys, let’s run this same as always. Anna, I want you straight onto compressions. Kirstie, take the ambu bag. Jess, IV. Roger, you’ve got the record. Zee, this is your first time, so stick close, listen and try your best to keep track.” Zainab nodded. “Good.  Everyone else, I want her inside as quick as we can, so make sure nothings tangled and get ready to work them legs.”

 There were murmurs of understanding, the approaching sirens beginning to drown them out. The ambulance raced onto the street, forcing the traffic to yield. It swung into the emergency lane that led up to the assemble resus team. They all stepped back, just off the road, as the ambulance approached. The tyres squealed, a hint of burnt rubber filling the space in front of the doors, bringing the ambulance to a stop.

 The team sprang into action. Two of those who had no specific job wrenched open the doors, stepping out of the way. Anna was greeted by the sight of Lucy working the young woman’s chest. A younger man was sat at the head of the gurney, his eyes sparkling with tears. The squeal of the monitor spilled out, and Anna could see the streaking flatline on the monitor. The moment passed, and Anna sprang into action.

 She stepped forward, placing one foot on the back step of the ambulance, then sprang forward. Gripping the sides of the gurney with her hands, she swung her legs down, landing on either side of the girl’s bare legs. She grabbed the monitor off the shelf as Lucy continued her compressions, and pulled it across the lifeless body to clip it onto the gurney’s rail.

 “On 3.” Anna said to Lucy, who nodded, as she shuffled her knees into the right position. “1…2…3” Lucy pushed down once more, then snapped her arms away. In the same moment, Anna brought her interlaced fingers down, pressing down straight away. There had been no break in the rhythm of compressions, Anna’s thrusts taking place of Lucy’s with a slick efficiency.

 The gurney shuddered, Anna compensating automatically, as it was pulled from the back of the ambulance. There was a slight pause as bits of equipment were handed off and Dave made his way round from the cab. Hands grabbed the gurney and began pushing it head-first, towards the doors. Anna kept up the perfect compressions as they travelled towards the Resus Suite.

 Carl was near the girl’s head, opposite Dave. Roger was trailing just behind Dave, clipboard and chart in hand. “What have we got?” Carl asked.

 “Amelia Preston, 25. Sudden V-tach arrest after altercation with a customer. No signs of injury, infection or drug-based influence. Suspected prior cardiac complaint. She was wearing a 3-lead monitor at the time.” He nodded over at George, who held out the monitor. Zainab took it off his hands. “CPR started immediately, and AED was on scene within 90 seconds. Shocked 3 times before becoming asystolic. First round of Epi administered after 10 minutes. Resulted in a shockable rhythm. After 2 shocks we got a sinus brady rhythm, with multifocal PVCs. Deteriorated back into V-fib, then asystole again after 2 shocks. She’s been flat since then. Total downtime of 22 minutes.”

 The team had gotten the gurney inside and were now turning through the extra wide door into Resus 1.

 “Ok. Let’s move her over and get her on our monitors. Let’s run a tox panel, and get someone from cardiology down here, I want the data from that monitor.” The gurney had pulled up next to trauma bed and everyone was waiting on Anna to move Amelia across. Anna checked the team was ready to move, then shifted across both beds, slipping over the side to land on the step that protruded from the trauma bed. The rest of the team had lifted Amelia across and arranged her on their own CPR backboard, allowing Anna to resume compressions as soon as she landed on the step.

 Lucy handed over the blood sample to one of the nurses, Trish, who rushed out of the trauma room towards the lab. Another nurse was over by the phone, calling the cardiology department. Others were quickly connecting the equipment to the monitors, one attached to the bed, with a repeater feed to the TV sized monitor on the wall.

 “Let’s double check everything.” Carl ordered. “I want an echo and let’s confirm that airway.” Anna counted off the compressions as the ultrasound probe was pulled over to the side of the bed.

 “3…2…1…” Anna pumped down Amelia’s chest once more, then pulled back. She scanned the room as Carl held the probe to Amelia’s battered chest. Lucy and Dave were standing in a corner, along with the young man that had accompanied them. He looked physically and emotionally exhausted. She looked down at the lifeless body before her. With a few moments to actually look at the girl, Anna was struck was by how similar she was to their patient. They had the same body shape, were within a couple of inches of each other and both had hair that curled gently in waves, though Anna’s was maybe a shade darker. If they’d been weighed, there would probably be a good difference, given the muscle tone Anna had developed lifting patients and performing life saving efforts. But overall, they looked similar enough that a stranger might comment on them being sisters.

 “No cardiac activity.” Carl commented, gaze locked on the screen of the echo. “But the pericardium is clear.” He handed off the probe and grabbed the stethoscope from around his neck. “Good bilateral air entry. Airway’s fine.” He looked up at Anna. The realisation of the similarity between her and Amelia must have been showing on her face. “You ok?” He asked.

 Anna shock her head quickly. “I’m fine.” She said, motioning for him to get out of the way. As soon as the head of the steth was out of the way she resumed compressions, with a slightly more desperate effort to them.

 Carl shrugged to himself. “High dose of epi, let’s see if we can kick start something.” Jessica acknowledged the order and proceeded to inject the drugs into the central IV, confirming the time with Roger. “Sarah! Anything from cardiology?” He called out to the nurse by the phone.

 “They’re saying at least 15 minutes. They’re all in the cath lab or out for lunch.”

 Carl cursed under his breath. He placed his fingers against Amelia’s neck, feeling the solid compression generated pulse. Then he checked her pupils. “Pupillary response is diminished.” He sighed, pondering his next move. “Ok, let’s get the LUCAS and combo pads on her, and initiate therapeutic hypothermia, I want to keep as much of her brain function intact as possible if we can get her back. She’s definitely a small.”  

 Anna focused on completing her fourth minute of compressions as the rest of team unpacked the specified equipment. Being a nationally recognised centre of excellence in the field of resuscitation, Memorial had been given several grants for research projects aiming to improve patient outcomes. One of those projects was Carl’s pet project. Still a prototype, the Intra-Arrest Temperature Management Vest was a relatively simple idea. The goal was to rapidly induce mild-hypothermia to reduce potential brain and organ damage, without interfering with efforts to resuscitate the patient. In practice, it looked almost like a bulky long winter coat without the sleeves and a few strange gaps.

 Anna watched as the team spread the vest on the bed next to Amelia. They’d practiced the procedure repeatedly, on manakins and each other, but Amelia was only the second patient to be in the right situation for the vest. Kirstie and Sarah took up position on the opposite side of the bed from Amelia, while Jessica come up beside Anna. With Trish still on her way back from the lab, Carl directed Zainab to the head of the bed, while he went to the end. His longer arms allowed him to reach out and grip underneath Amelia’s thighs. Anna waited until everyone had sounded off their readiness before stopping compressions.

“1…2…3… Lift.” Carl told Zainab. Together they lifted the lifeless Amelia a couple of inches clear of the bed. Anna’s arm shot underneath her, grabbing the vest. Next to her Jess was doing the same. They pulled it through, Kirstie and Sarah making sure they didn’t drag it too far, then guided Carl and Zainab in lowering Amelia back down so that she lay with her shoulder blades on the reinforced section of the back of the vest. That was where most of the pressure from the compressions would end up.

 As soon as Amelia was down, Anna went straight back into compressions, keeping the blood flowing while the others finished arranging the vest. Amelia’s chest sank underneath Anna’s hands, her abdomen distending just as it before. The vest offered no interference with the process. As Anna hammered away on her near-doppelganger’s chest, Sarah reached around her hands to remove the shiny orange gel pads, replacing them with the large foam squares of the Quik-Combo electrodes.

 Jess and Kirstie threaded Amelia’s arms through the large holes, then folded the top half of vest over her body, securing it with the Velcro straps. It didn’t interfere with Anna, as one of the large gaps was located right on Amelia’s sternum, providing the perfect gap for Anna’s hands. The pair of nurses then moved further down, wrapping parts of the vest around Amelia’s thighs, another large gap left between her legs, allowing access to her vagina and femoral arteries.

 The small cooler attached to the vest began to hum as it pumped refrigerated water through the tiny tubes in the vest, and within seconds Amelia’s temperature began to drop. Anna continued her professionally brutal compressions as the team then began to unpack the Lucas. Carl was injecting another round of drugs in, as the monitor continued to show the complete lack of electrical activity in Amelia’s heart.

 The backboard of the Lucas was brought over, Anna stopping for a moment as it was slid under Amelia, it was a perfect fit for the reinforced region of the vest. Anna did a few more compressions as the team made sure the Lucas was ready.

 “Ok, step off Anna.” Carl ordered. She complied, stepping completely off the bed, rubbing some feeling back into her arms. She glanced at the clock. 6 minutes and 30 seconds of near continuous compressions. It was a personal best. Though she didn’t feel particularly proud at the moment. It meant that Amelia had now been in cardiac arrest for 29 minutes.

 Anna returned her attention to the patient who look so much like her. The Lucas had been clipped to its backboard, Amelia’s wrists tied to the top. The large puck, fitting perfectly in the gap in the cooling vest, began to force her chest down. At this point, all Anna could do was watch. Watch, and hope.

***

Part 2: https://intubatedangel.tumblr.com/post/183345519857/baristas-bad-heart-part-2

Part 3: https://intubatedangel.tumblr.com/post/183380872877/baristas-bad-heart-part-3

Part 4: https://intubatedangel.tumblr.com/post/183471507287/barristas-bad-heart-part-4

Part 5: https://intubatedangel.tumblr.com/post/183491865107/barristas-bad-heart-part-5

Part 6: https://intubatedangel.tumblr.com/post/183594682567/barristas-bad-heart-part-6

Part 7: https://intubatedangel.tumblr.com/post/183658697742/baristas-bad-heart-part-7

Part 8: https://intubatedangel.tumblr.com/post/183678245687/baristas-bad-heart-part-8