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soyouareandrewdobson · 5 years ago

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Sunny Sundays: Scoob

So as not to be too negative by always focusing on dumb webartists and their lack of taste in certain media or decent opinions, I decided that at least once a week I also want to talk about something more positive on my tumblr. Something about animation to enjoy, instead of using it as a bullet point for a sex fetish disguised as social awareness unlike someone else.

As such, lets talk about a little movie that came out this week on demand about a franchise that had goten rebooted more times than a certain timelord. At least that is what it feels like.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Scoob!

Scoob is the recent major entry into the Scooby Doo franchise and weirdly enough, though there is a ton of animated movies that came out for TV and on DVD, the the first animated feature of the franchise to actually be released in theaters. ... or rather it would be, if we didn’t live in a Stephen King novel, forcing Warner to release it on the internet for demand.

Now the Scooby Doo franchise is as of now pretty damn old. starting back in 1969 and having multiple incarnations of it over the years with the last succesfull one being the highly recommended “Mystery Incorporated”, which featured of all things the group not only dealing with their typical guys in masks each week, but also an ancient conspiracy involving a cosmic terror from another dimension, cameos of other famous Hanna Barbera characters and even good old Harlan Ellison having a cameo to. But some people with no idea how a good story trumps over shipping only know the show as having Velma and a girl that smells of hotdogs being shipped. If you do not belong to that group of people, I highly recommend you to watch it because it is really good. And certainly more entertaining than the shows that followed next, aka “Scooby Doo Go” and “Here is a show all about cameos being more obvious than in the old days”.

Anyway, what I try to say is, Scooby Doo despite being rather old and having been both mocked and appreciated over the years, is still very popular and can with the right amount of care and silly fun be at the very least an entertaining ride. So did this movie deliver on that, or did it become as disappointing as “Return to Zombie Island”?

I will try not to spoil too much in this “overview” about the movie, but here is basically the deal: For starters, it is a Scooby Doo movie that misses one itsy bitsy major thing that actually makes a Scooby Doo story out on average. A mystery.

See, the movie first begins with a semi origin story for Scooby and the gang, which honestly is pretty damn adorable to watch. Shaggy meeting a stray Scooby as a pup, both becoming friends, meeting at Halloween Fred, Daphne and Velma for the first time and actually solving their very first mystery, all in the span of like 10 minutes? It is great and I would love to see an animated series about those alone. You know, a reboot of “A Pup named Scooby Doo”. Unfortunately, that is as far as we get with a “classic” Scooby Doo story as after the introduction, Simon Cowell essentially breaks the group apart and it becomes a Marvel superhero movie inspired flick.

Nope, I am not. Which btw, is actually not meant as a criticism.

Yeah see, Mystery Inc wants to be a more serious enterprise and so Simon Cowell has been brought on board to finance them, but only of Shaggy and Scooby leave. Which they do. After that dated cameo of a celebrity (Which actually feels rather in tone with the legacy of the franchise, if you think about the “good old days”) Shaggy and Scooby find themselves shortly thereafter being hunted by robots, only to be rescued by another famous Hannah Barbara character: The Blue Falcon and his trusty sidekick Dynomutt! Or rather Mark Wahlberg having to learn how to be a decent hero and the second best character in the entire movie.

The original Blue Falcon has retired and this Blue Falcon is the son of the original one who still has to learn how to be a smart hero instead of trying to be an “impressive” hero (in other words, Booster Gold’s showman aspects played up to 11) while Dynomutt has certianly become a bit of a deadpan snarker over the years.

Anywa,y they have come to help Shaggy and Scooby, who are hunted by Dick Dastardly of Wacky Racers fame, who is after Scooby for some nefarious reason, as well as the heads of demon guard dog Cerberus, which if assembled will open the Gates of Hell. As such Shaggy, Scooby and the Blue Falcon group have to stop Dastardly and save the world, while the rest of the team tries to find out what happened to them and in doing so gets involved into the entire adventure too. An adventure field to the brim with references and major on screen cameos by Hanna Barbera characters, to the point the entire thing could also just be called “Hanna Barbera Avengers assemble”.

This movie... it is weird but in some of the best ways possible. To get it out of the way, I do not think it is a very good kids movie storywise. As in, on one hand it does not have any despicable messages to it and there is actually a surprisingly high level of quality to it, on the other hand, it is not as if this movie has become the Hanna Barbera equivalent of Wall-E, Onward, How to train your Dragon or some Miyazaki flick. It is basically a Hanna Barbera crossover fanfiction as an animated feature, that reimagines the characters design wise slightly to look like ore accesable toys for kids to sell nowadays, than the orignal designs from the 70s and 80s. The plot as said abandons the mystery aspect completely for a saving the world from a comic book supervillain story, even with obligatory hole in the sky during the climax (seriously, when does Hollywood realize what kind of clichee it is) , third act break up between Scooby and Shaggy and out of nowhere “sacrifice” at the end. If you want more details on that, I recommend watching the movie or reading up on a 4chan post that goes around the net from a couple of months ago, when someone leaked the movie back then. Turns out that not everything on /co/ is garbage made up by others. Anyway, the plot is just not what you would expect from Scooby Doo. Which says a lot considering their direct to DVD features within the last years included also crossovers with the WWE and KISS. So you would expect it could not get weirder. But this movie kinda does, while also just having storystructure wise clichees to it you have seen a million times already in both better and worse features. And yet, if you like Hanna Barbera cartoons in general, I think you can find something in that movie. Not necessarily a good story from start to end, but just a entertaining Hanna Barbera cartoon, that is not quite as “dumb” as its source material but also does not try to be ultra serious and embraces the sort of humor it came from. If that however is not enough for you, and you want some very very deep story about social issues in animated form... well, I either suggest watching something not done by Disney you animation snob.

From a technical level now, I would say the movie is a bit more complicated to “review”. The voice acting is not horrible, but there are moments where the fact they got not the original cast to do the voices and instead give us celebrities like Zac Efron, is obvious. Some dialogues just don’t work as well as they should, but no one does a completely horrible job. Animation wise...

Well, it is a movie that does actually a good job getting the Hannah Barbera designs into a decent computer animated shape for the 21th century. It really feels like a Hannah Barbara cartoon on the screen. Unfortunately, when it comes to background characters....

...it feels only slightly above Miraculous Ladybug levels in my opinion. The animation is not all over the place, but you can see that it was not Pixar working on it. Which actually sorta brings up another “problem” with the movie. The problem being that as a whole it does not quite feel like it is a movie that belongs on the big screen. It is an entertaining animated movie, don’t get me wrong. But if I may be “snobish” for a moment, I think in terms of presentation and story it just doesn’t quite reach okay movie theater flick level. It is above what we should get from a made for TV or DVD production but just doesn’t reach the next level by a few inches. Which is sad, cause I think there was actually still a lot of effort put into it and a certain love of the source material. Or rather source materials, seeing how it is not just Scooby Doo here. And yet, despite its obvious flaws, including some really dated humor that made my eyes roll but is not breaking the movie for me... I recommend it. If you like Scooby Doo as a whole, I think you may like this one a lot. I just think that 20$ on demand is way too much. An animated serie sin that style however would suffice a lot Hope that piece of an opinion was helpful and that if you decide to watch it, you will have as much fun as I had (or even more) . And please don’t let me be the only one on this planet who thinks that of all the characters in it, Dick Dastardly is actually one, if not the most entertaining one. Cause heck, I liked him. And I never had imagined to see a heartfelt scene with him as a central character.

#scooby doo #scoob movie #scoob spoilers #scoob #adobsonart #adobsonartworks #western animation #animation #hanna barbera #blue falcon #dynomutt #dick dastardly #movie

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traincat · 6 years ago

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Correct me if I'm wrong, but was not Flash having an abusive father a retcon that happened many years later after his debut? I remember you ask about whatever Flash being a bully was a retcon too, so I wonder if its the same case for his father. Perhaps is the reason why MCU decided to avoid any hint that Flash' father might be abusive.

Okay, this is a little messy, but from my point of view the answer is yes and no, or rather, it’s kind of half a retcon, if that. It’s a retcon that, with a little connecting the dots, we can make not a retcon. A retcon, by technical definition, is a piece of canon that retroactively rewrites the continuity that came before it. “The Alicia Masters that Johnny Storm married was a Skrull all along!” is a retcon, because before that piece of information was introduced, the Alicia Masters that Johnny Storm married was just Alicia Masters, regular human woman. A piece of information that reveals something about a character’s backstory or circumstances that just never came up before but doesn’t actually contradict anything, on the other hand, is not a retcon.

This... falls in between those two things.

First off, Harrison Thompson is in a total of 13 comic issues altogether. That’s really not a lot -- Flash himself is in 574 comics, according to the Marvel Wiki. Harrison Thompson’s first appearance is in the B story of Amazing Spider-Man #372, titled Punch... Counter-Punch, where Peter and Flash years later revisit their boxing max from Amazing Spider-Man #8, albeit in a much friendlier manner. Now, note that this is several hundred issues after Flash’s introduction to the pages of Spider-Man, during which his father has never been mentioned before in either positive or negative light. The boxing match is just window dressing for the real point of the story, though, which involves Flash encouraging Peter to engage with his parents, Richard and Mary Parker, who had at that point in canon seemingly returned from the dead/the gulag. (“Richard and Mary” were actually robots, but that part doesn’t matter here. I love that I get to write that sentence.) Flash then launches into a recollection of his own father, who he describes as serious, intelligent, uninterested in athletics, and disapproving of Flash’s own interests in sports and his average grades. When Peter asks if Flash made up with his own father, Flash says he died:

Now, we know this is not true -- Harrison Thompson appears in Untold Tales of Spider-Man #19, published in 1997, a good four years after Amazing Spider-Man #372. Untold Tales of Spider-Man is a series from the ‘90s that bulked out the content of Peter’s high school years, considering that he’s only in high school in the original Amazing Spider-Man run for a grand total of 28 issues, and focused on Peter, Betty Brant, and Peter’s high school classmates. It’s a series I mostly find boring, I’ll be entirely honest, although I like some of the Flash, Liz, and Betty content. Untold Tales of Spider-Man #19 is technically the first time Harrison Thompson actually physically appears in a Spider-Man scene, being present in the book instead of in another character’s recollection.

Harrison Thompson here has been reinvented as a Forest Hills police officer who, in this issue at least, is portrayed as a generally friendly fellow. Literally two months after this was published, Spectacular Spider-Man #-1 was published. Written by J.M. “stories about child abuse” DeMatteis, it begged the following: “how can we add more childhood trauma to the Spider-Man cast?” and “fuck the police.”

This comic, which I believe is the third ever appearance of Harrison Thompson within Marvel comics although I might be missing another Untold Spider-Man bit, keeps Harrison Thompson as a cop, but whereas in Untold Spider-Man he seemed an okay enough guy, Spectacular Spider-Man #-1′s depiction of him is an abusive drunk who emotionally terrorizes his family and beats his son.

So we’ve got a weird little evolution here from intellectual snob who in his son’s eyes looked down on him for not sharing his more cerebral interests -> seemingly genial neighborhood cop -> violently abusive father. Now the second two don’t actually rule each other out: Harrison Thompson could certainly have put on a good face for the community while abusing his family at home. This is, after all, not uncommon behavior for abusers, who can often keep up a very charming act within their larger communities. (J.M. DeMatteis writes a lot of abusive father stories, and he does it very well.) So it’s really only the first story that’s the problem, continuity-wise.

The Marvel wiki lists Harrison’s appearance in Amazing Spider-Man #372 as a “false recollection”, which is, I think, an interesting way of putting it. Now I said this was in my opinion half a retcon at best, and I consider it that because of something I noted above: Harrison Thompson never actually physically appears in this issue. Flash talks about him, but the problem with that is a very simple characterization rule: characters lie. Almost every character in a large body of canon, at some point or another, for whatever reason, is going to lie. “False recollection” can mean a lot of things, and “lie to your best friend to encourage him to get close again with his own parents” and “say your dad is dead because you kind of wish he was” are not outside the realm of possibility. I think this would be a very different case if Harrison Thompson had physically appeared as Flash describes him initially on the page, or if the issue had even contained a proper flashback scene instead of Flash speaking over some vague images. But that’s not the case, and when all you have is one character’s words there’s always the chance that their recollections are either untrue or unreliable.

Now, I can make this messier. In Amazing Spider-Man #372, Flash tells Peter his dad died before Flash ever met Peter. This is complicated two ways: first, as established later by Untold Spider-Man #19, Peter had met Flash’s dad, so he would’ve known in ASM #372 that Flash’s dad couldn’t possibly have died before Peter and Flash ever met. (Flash would also have had to be very young, younger than he’s depicted even in ASM #372, for his dad to have died before he and Peter met.) Worse yet, in Webspinners #9, which also takes place when Peter and Flash are still in high school, Peter as Spider-Man witnesses, without Flash’s knowledge, an incident where Flash is being punished and verbally abused by his father. (It’s also implied he witnesses Harrison hitting Flash via sound effect, but that’s not directly on panel.)

Now, I never know what to feel about this Webspinners story, canonicity-wise. For one, I think it’s not the best characterization for Spider-Man to see anyone he knows, whether or not he especially likes them, being abused and to do nothing to halt that abuse, although that would be a much more complicated story that a three-parter about Peter accidentally ending up with three prom dates doesn’t really have room to cover. For another, it gives Peter a very intimate look at Flash’s personal life that would surely recontextualize some things for him, but of course none of that is reflected in the college years because those stories weren’t written with this incident in mind. Peter finding out about Flash’s abusive home life in high school is, for me, the bit that most shoddily fits in here, though we do know that by the time they’re in their late 20s Peter is aware of things:

(Venom (2011) #5)

So if we’re putting it all together, with the assumption that, in order to keep all of the canon here cohesive (a very difficult thing to do with any long-running superhero comic), we’d have to view the ASM #372 story under the light that not only was Flash lying, but he was lying badly, and Peter knew he was lying, and they were just not talking about it. It’s messy, sure, and it’s not perfect, but “one character is lying for an agenda, other character knows and doesn’t confront him over it” isn’t out of the realm of possibility, if I wanted to make that argument.

Ultimately, for me, here’s the thing: Harrison Thompson is present in 13 issues. That’s is such an incredibly small part of a huge body of canon, but 11 of those issues have huge consequences for Flash Thompson. The two issues before DeMatteis introduced Harrison Thompson as a violently abusive man are a recollection that could easily be a lie -- a shoddy one, admittedly, but people tell shoddy lies all the time, so why shouldn’t fictional characters -- and an issue that, while it does not portray him as an abusive father, it doesn’t contradict it, either. Everything after that is relatively consistent in depicting Flash’s father as abusive throughout his childhood. You could consider Spectacular Spider-Man #-1 and subsequent stories are a retcon of Amazing Spider-Man #372, but you could also noodle your way around into making it work within the body of canon as I have done above. It’s really up to how the individual reader here wants to look at it. And even if someone does choose to view it as a retcon, it’s not a big one; it changes almost nothing about the canon that existed beforehand where Flash Thompson isn’t concerned, and there’s nothing in his story up until that point that would explicitly rule out him being an abused child. I will say, between the two stories, “my dad and I never got along because he was too nerdy to understand my athletic passions” is pretty sorry competition for the latter backstory that was created for Flash, which does a lot to inform his past actions as a character, from his high school bully status to his military enlistment which, as the sliding timescale moves the decade the Spidey Fivesome were in college together forward, we can no longer attribute to the draft. It also offers him something in common with many of the other major members of Peter’s supporting cast: like Flash, Mary Jane and Harry were also abused by their fathers. (Who in Marvel comics wasn’t? Peter. Peter Parker was not.)

All that aside, I doubt that when Spider-Man: Homecoming’s creative team was conceiving their version of Flash Thompson that they chose to omit any mention of his abusive father in homage to Amazing Spider-Man #372′s B story, especially after they reimagined Flash as a nerd himself. “If he were smarter, his father wouldn’t beat him” would become a, uh, troubling implication if anyone involved in the movie were to make that claim. Which they won’t, because I would bet a lot of money that they didn’t think about it that much. This is the film that cut any mention of Uncle Ben’s death because it would be a “downer” -- they weren’t going to introduce an abusive homelife for one of Peter’s classmates. And that’s not even my issue, as much as I appreciate The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)’s oblique reference in the hallway scene where Flash says “it feels better, right?” after Peter slams him against the lockers. Addressing Flash Thompson’s childhood isn’t something that’s going to make or break a Spider-Man adaptation for me, although ideally it’s something I would like to see handled with care and sympathy. My issue is that you have a character who, in the source material, has consistently been depicted as the victim of childhood abuse from 1997 onwards, and instead chose to make that character an affluent nerd and the butt of a joke that, if it had happened to the original Flash Thompson in high school, surely would have had serious consequences for him when Peter steals and wrecks his car. I just found it an uncomfortable, knowing Flash’s comics backstory. (And as someone who’s had their car stolen, I’m not exactly sure how grand theft auto is supposed to be funny.) I’m sure the movie could’ve shoved more sports car time in there some other way.

#flash thompson #peter parker #harrison thompson #spiderman #marvel comics #long post/#*replies #cw child abuse #traincat talks comics #Anonymous

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nochiquinn · 5 years ago

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c2e74: but then I gotta kill ya

I'm so tired. Kiddo started school this week so I've been up at 6, which I am NOT used to, and I didn't nap this afternoon, so if this post is half as long as its supposed to be you know why

when I looked up the lights made it look like sam had cat ears

no. the bit is dead. stop this.

okay the pushup fight is a little cute

and with that sam and liam's short film project is concluded forever

"we are impeRFECT CREATURES"

mala: bold of you to assume Laura Bailey is an imperfect creature

it's cinder

micaaaaa

asimaaaaar

golden freckleeeees

she sounds adorable

I have had Reani for ten minutes and if anything happens to her I will kill everyone in this room and then myself

"stop revealing I have a soul"

fjord: "I hate to interrupt the cupcakes - " jester: "THEN DON'T"

be au

"I'm just. I'm just me." heart eyes motherfucker

can wine snob beau happen now

jes

"as a cluster" - it's 8/8 - sense8 crossover confirmed

I want a comic series of reani

security book

do all aasimar know each other

oh no lawful good

(neutral?)

does anybody remember miko from order of the stick? what if reani is that but sweet-natured

Pink One

y'all gon fallen that aasimar

I miss Sprigg

it's Notes from bloodborne

this whole scene has fantasy costco vibes

mr green man

"can I call you pinky" "yeaaaah"

"ska is the line?!"

woodset otters

surname confirm??

the what

"they're really dumb"

I still want my comic book but so it can be a better "lightbringer" superhero book

wrassler ovarystick, got it

this is wan shi tong's library

it's the B.O.B.

werewolves. you're talking about werewolves.

taliesin: percy will remember this

sam trying to bite laura's arm

aw shit half-blood prince

"all forms of vague moral authority have left the building"

distracted by bf coming home and all I see is "oh no" in my chat; prepared to come back to a library-based tpk

but did u die tho

elf racist

laura: "......OH"

it took everybody a solid thirty seconds to realize what he was talking about

"you thought the word 'auditor' was safe, didn't you"

"keep pushing me, book boy"

YEET CIRCLE

yes good take the black/white morality to a country at war, there are always clearly defined good guys and bad guys in a war

"nobody can see it if they're dead!"

so this is a 2006 fursona is what this is

cad that's rude probably

there are no therapists in wildemount

look I love her but also she's spent the entire episode learning how to poison people better

this is gonna end SO WELL

fifteen second pause as matt tries to come up with a tree voice

[segway noises]

is this postknight

"87" it's like making a vax stealth roll

they're on top of the dragon

it's the snowager

(did I make this joke during the slayer's take white dragon) (I feel like I did but I'm not checking rn)

essik:

#critical role #reaction post #spoilers #liveblog #crititag

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eccedentesiiasta-blog · 7 years ago

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drinking to suppress devotion - a (shitty) simbar fanfic

Requested: i think the fuck not. no one ever asks for my bullshit yet here i stand. whaddup

Word Count: 3k-ish???? maybe???

Note: idgaf about the soy luna 9 book spoilers, i’m just gonna leave this out here. take this as a 3x21 headcanon. you’re welcome

Summary: After an awkward encounter on the Jam & Roller where a certain drink was offered, Simón goes back to the loft and is left with mixed feelings... which he later mixes with tequila.

Warnings: An obvious Ed Sheeran reference on the title, Marvel vs. DC discourse, angst, fluff and an unexpected plot twist.

He should be sleeping by now.

The loft is completely dark. Pedro, Nico and Matteo are carelessly snoring the night away. But Simón is wide awake: staring at the ceiling, still processing the events from the past few days.

He closes his eyelids and his heart flutters at the memory of them singing while looking at each other, lyrics flowing out of their tongues like bottled up emotions. Or hugging her in the locker room, her pleads for him to not leave her alone tightening his arms around her.

It seems unreal how things went downhill in a matter of hours.

He replays Ja-Jazmín’s “Bembar” video one last time, and the audio just plays back to a supercut of moments engraved on his brain that seem to crumble whatever feeling resides on his chest for her right now, as easy as a piece of paper does: Benicio and Ámbar on stage, them skating together for what he thought was the first time and how they complemented each other so easily.

He goes to take a sip out of his bottle before he realizes that it’s empty. He drops it on the rug and it rolls away from him.

He should be sleeping by now… but instead, he’s trying to drown his feelings for Ámbar in tequila (and failing terribly, by the way).

He was lucky he found a cab at… 3:13 AM, according to his cellphone.

“The code to the gate is my birthday. It’s the only thing my grandpa wouldn’t forget.” Luna had indicated in an opportunity.

When the code was in, the gate opened with a loud mechanic noise and he went past it, guitar on his back. Simón uselessly shushed the engine, and waited for the door to close before he made his way through the garden.

All of the windows were closed. She probably was asleep. He would have to serenade her awake.

Not that he minded, though.

Ámbar couldn’t sleep that night either. Her head was buried into her pillow, trying to suppress the loud memory replaying in her head.

“Ambar- I saw you dancing with Simon. I thought you were over what you guys had but… I guess I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t. I have nothing to do with Simón anymore.”

“Nothing that you wanna admit…”

The blonde leaned forward, brushed hair out of her face and huffed loudly, resigned to the fact that it would bother her until she did something about it.

“Ámbar, I’ve told you a million times to take over your feelings! Do you wanna be your old self again? ...Be careful Ámbar. Don’t you go and fall in love with him all over again.”

“Emilia- I’ll never fall in love again.”

“I wish I believed you.”

She did, too.

Esto es amor o es una señal para escaparle al miedo

No puedo evitar mi estupidez

Este no soy yo, oh

That was Simón. A raspy version of his voice singing along to messy chords- but it was Simón, give or take. Was Luna seriously listening to music out loud at 3 AM? She was so going to get it…

She turned on the lights and got up the bed, walking fast to the door before a specific yell stopped her:

“Bonita!”

Shit.

She traced her steps back, looked down the window and her mouth fell open at the sight:

Simón was on the garden, his signature guitar hanging on his torso as he yelled:

“Bonita! This song is for you!”

No digas nada

Solo toma tu tiempo

Un tiempo de amor

Ya no preguntes más

Y cierra los ojos

Sentir es mejor

What the hell did he think he was doing? She had to do something.

Quizás sea el momento de tomar un tiempo…

“Simón!”

“Yes, bonita?”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You’re going to wake my grandfather!”

“I don’t care. You hear me? I don’t care! The world is going to hear how much I love you!”

“Simón! I mean it. Keep. Your voice. Down.”

“You look beautiful under the moonlight, Ámbar Smith.”

Heat rose up to her cheeks, and she looked away to think properly of a comeback: “…and you’re drunk, Simón Álvarez.”

“Only drunk in love, bonita.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh- don’t move. I’ll be down in a second.”

Looking like a gothic queen, her black marabou night robe-clad figure quickly sneaked her way down the stairs, rushing to the main door. As soon as it was open, she stuck her head out.

“Simón!” She called him in a whisper, and he turned his head. “Get in! It’s cold out there.”

He rushed to the door and got inside. “You, Ámbar, are an angel.”

“Yeah, yeah- just get in, will you?”

Being quicker than his clouded mind, he tripped on his own two feet and she had to catch him.

“Careful! I could get in serious trouble if my granddad finds out I’m sneaking you in like this.”

Simón frowned. “I thought you didn’t care about your grandfather.”

She swung Simón’s arm over her shoulders and helped him walk. “I actually do, it’s just that… he thinks I’m not ‘in line with this family’ because I’m not like Luna. But I couldn’t be like her. I couldn’t be like anyone, actually. I can only be me.”

Simón was getting heavier by the minute. No, no, no, no, no, no. No way. He couldn’t fall asleep. “Simón!”

His eyes flew open. “AH! What?”

“Don’t fall asleep!”

“Sorry. It’s just that I’m so tired and your hair smells so nice, I just…-”

She huffed. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

They made it to the stairwell. “Left foot, then right foot. Okay?”

“Yeah.” But he had zero balance whatsoever, so as soon as he tried he found himself on the verge of falling face down on the steps.

He was lucky he had Ámbar. “Forget it. Just hold on tight to me and try to lift your feet.”

“Good idea.”

They spent a good 5 minutes going up a 30-step stairwell.

“I need you to be super quiet now because someone could definitely hear us in this hallway. Now, let’s get your shoes off.”

Ámbar squatted down and undid his laces.

“Lift one foot,” she instructed, and he held tight to her shoulder as he lifted his right foot. She took his shoe off to reveal an Spiderman logo on the sole of his sock. “Really? Spiderman?”

“What about it? I love everything Marvel.”

“Everything? Are you sure about that?”

“Of course!” He raised his voice to accentuate his confidence, and Ámbar shushed him. “Sorry.”

“Just lift your other foot.”

“Why are you so-? Wait a minute. Are you a DC fan?”

“I’m not saying anything. Now, lift your other foot.”

Simón did as she said. “You didn’t answer.”

Ámbar huffed as she took the other shoe off and stood up. “Yes, I am a DC fan.”

“Why?”

She started walking alongside Simón towards her room. “I know that DC may not have the best movies… but it sure has the best TV series out of both universes. And I like more characters from DC than I do from Marvel.”

“Which ones do you like?”

“...I like Harley Quinn.”

“Oh, my God… How did I ever date such a snob?”

They both got in and she locked the door. “I’m not a snob!”

“Oh, really? Prove it.”

She threw herself onto the bed and sighed. “It’s not that I necessarily like Harley Quinn, I just think it’s a realistic and well-developed character. Just think about it: she was a brilliant woman who fell in love with a criminal. Love is blind and unexpected, so I respect it. It’s not that I support the dynamic between her and the Joker, though, even before she actually became Harley Quinn. A character I actually support though, is Poison Ivy. She was mistreated by her coworker and she took revenge. Also, she is hot as fuck and she is in a relationship with Harley in the comics, so…-”

“Why is that you are so into villains?”

“Are you kidding? Without villains, there would be no plot!”

“Okay, fair enough…- but, isn’t there any good guy you like?”

Ámbar thought it through, pursing her lips. “Well… I like Flash.”

“Really? Why not Superman or, you know, Batman?”

“Flash is humble. He is funny, and good, and decent. I think that if Superman didn’t feel the need to prove himself to others, I would rather like him.”

Simón was in awe. “What do we really know about Ámbar Smith? She has a soft spot for good guys.”

Ámbar’s smile fainted and turned into a frown in less than a second. “I am not soft.”

“Yes, you are.”

She crossed her arms as she leaned forward to sit up on her bed. “No, I am not!”

“You are!”

“Shut up, Simón!” Ámbar yelled in annoyance as she threw a pillow at Simón’s head.

“Ouch! That actually hurt, Ámbar. You could have cracked my skull with that pillow you threw just now.” He whined, and the blonde had to stifle a laugh.

She tried to keep a straight face as she insisted: “I believed I told you to shut up.”

“And I believe I just made you smile.”

Was she so obvious? “This is not a smile! Don’t you see? This is my disgust face, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Simón giggled between cute little hiccups. “Right. Whatever. Let’s say I believe you.��

“Believe me? It’s the truth, Simón. It’s not a matter of perspective. You just saw it happen.”

Simón’s laughter became dry. “Ámbar…”

“What?” She let out in a harsh tone. That tone she used for everyone except for her friends. No, scratch that- except for Simón. But this time was different.

This time he was on her room, asking her about fiction and calling her names he didn’t mean, laughing like a fucking dork. It just reassured what Emilia had said the night of the party, and that bothered her. She couldn’t fall in love again. All that love did for her was break and end.

Her ears tuned in to the sound of his voice. “Why…” he cleared his throat to say this in the most hurtful tone he could use, “…why did you bring me back to your room?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- you could’ve called a cab, or snuck me in to Luna’s room,” Simón got off the chair and walked around the room, “so… why are you taking care of me?”

Because I care about you was the only answer she couldn’t go wrong with, but her feelings were at stake. “B-because…”

“Because of what, Ámbar?”

Ámbar musted up courage and got up to answer this time. “…Because you left me no choice! Simón, you literally just sang a window serenade to me. I knew you wouldn’t leave me alone until I gave you the attention you wanted from me.”

Simón blinked, offended. “Attention?”

“Yes, attention.”

“I think I’m not the only one seeking attention over here.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I don’t know, let’s find out. What do you think I’m saying?”

“I think you’re saying I’m an attention seeker.”

“Yes!”

“Then you’re an idiot!”

“Why? Ámbar, you’ve been acting so weird lately. With your dark outfits, and your pretentious attitude towards everyone, and even this room makeover you’ve put up- just to fit in your new group of friends!”

She shook her head, wearing a cynic smirk on her face even when each reproach was landing like an arrow on her heart. “You really have no idea, do you Simón?”

“Why? What could you possibly say to prove me wrong?”

“Simón, I did this because of you! I did this… because of the Roller guys! Simón, I had changed! And they still didn’t see it. Only you did.”

Simón suddenly felt himself sober up with her words: “…and that used to be enough for me. But then I lost you, and I had no one left. The Sliders gave me an opportunity, no matter who I was or what I had done in the past. It was a new slate for me, and I needed it.”

“If you call breaking Juliana’s Crystal Skate with Benicio a new slate.”

“At least Benicio stuck up for me when I needed him to!”

“You are aware that’s not going to last for long, right? I have told you a million times that Benicio is the most cheating, treacherous, fake, backstabbing asshole I’ve ever met! Plus, you’ve only known Emilia for so long and you think she’s your friend?”

“I have told you a million times I don’t care what you have to say!” Except she did, and that made it harder to lie to him when she said: “Emilia, unlike you, was there when I needed her. Simón, I couldn’t move on if you were going to be there reminding me of all that I’d done wrong. I had to get away from you. You were bad for me!”

Simón held his hand in the air, cutting her speech as she walked up to her. “Hold on a second- bad for you?”

Ámbar came closer as well. “Yes! Bad for me!”

Simón’s eyes became foggy with tears as he let out broken sounds: “Then how come Luna and all of the Roller guys think I’ll be the one in danger if I get too close to you?”

He really knew how to be her ultimate weakness.

The ambient seemed to shift with the lingering question.

“Simón…” Ámbar cupped his face just as he had done just the day before and she felt him relax under her touch. He trusted her, and he couldn’t conceal that. “Only you and I know what we both feel.”

Simón felt dizzy. Not buzzed, or funny. He felt dizzy from her scent, from their tempting closeness, from her eyes staring into his.

“Ámbar…” he licked his lips as he stole a glance at hers.

Her answer was barely a graceful whisper at this point. “Yes, Simón?”

“I-I… fuck it- I’m just going to ask you.”

Ámbar grabbed his hands and straightened her posture. “Just say it.”

“Yeah- sure, I’m just going to say it.”

Simón felt uneasy with what the words he was about to say would risk. It felt as if his heart was on his throat. Eventually, he opened his mouth and there was no going back.

Except, it wasn’t his heart that was on his throat.

It was puke.

It landed everywhere: on Ámbar’s nightgown, on the carpet… and even on his socks.

Ámbar didn’t know what to do. She quickly took off her robe, rushing him to the bathroom.

After a final “I’m never going to drink again”, Simón had been done puking. She had been cautious enough to scape a grounding, so after changing into an old pink night-robe, she dragged an inflatable mattress to Luna’s room where he could fall asleep in on his tired-out state. She came to realize Luna was a heavy sleeper.

Simón’s phone vibrated on his pocket, and she realized: the guys were probably worried about him. He had gone out in the middle of the night, and it had been maybe 2 hours since that. They had to work early that day at the Jam & Roller.

When she checked his phone, the messages from the “Roller Band” group chat proved further her theory:

Pedro: Simón, where are you?

Nico: Simón????

Matteo: Chill out guys, maybe he went out to buy something

Pedro: Oh, really? What would he buy, then?

Matteo: How the fuck am I supposed to know?

Nico: Guys, don’t fight. Maybe he felt sick and went to buy an aspirin or some shit like that

Pedro: Maybe I would chill if he actually answered

Matteo: Simón

Matteo: SIMÓN FOR FUCK’S SAKE

Pedro: SIMÓN BLINK TWICE IF YOU’RE READING THIS

Nico: Pedro, you’re communicating with him via text.

Ámbar didn’t know what to do as the texts kept popping up on the screen. She quickly thought of something:

Simón: I’m alive. Sorry. Luna had a panic attack about a nightmare she had, so I stayed over to help her sleep. She just fell asleep, but I’m going to spend the rest of the night here just in case.

Nico: You mean, morning

Simón: Wdym?

Pedro: Simón, it’s 5:24 am.

Fuck.

Simón: Right

Simón: Sorry. I’m just so tired I can’t even read anymore

Nico: It’s okay. I’ll cover your morning shift, but you have to be here by 1 pm. Got it?

Simón: Yes. Thank you so much Nico, you are a lifesaver

Nico: It’s nothing.

Matteo: Simón

Simón: What?

Matteo: Why is there an empty bottle of tequila on the living room?

She bit her lip as she thought of an excuse.

Simón: SHIT! I forgot

Simón: I was going to take out the trash and I placed it on plain sight so I wouldn’t forget it

Simón: Sorry guys

Pedro: It’s fine, Simón. I was going to take out the trash before we left in the morning anyways

Simón: Thanks, Pedro

She carefully put his phone back on his pocket and sighed in satisfaction of her own doing.

While tip-toeing back to her room, she ran into her grandfather.

“Ámbar? What did I tell you? You have to sleep early! What are you doing awake?”

Ámbar was taken by surprise, and a beat passed as she thought of an excuse. “I feel sick, grandpa.”

“You do?” Ámbar nodded and Alfredo took her into his arms. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, but I threw up half an hour ago.”

“Oh, Ámbar… come on: let’s get you to bed. I’m going to give you medicine and you’re going to have some rest. I can’t let you go to Uni like this.”

She feigned worry. “But, grandpa, I have to go!”

“Not a chance, Ámbar. It’s for your own good. You’ll spend the day in.”

Downside was, she would have to confront Gary about her absence on that day’s Red Sharks practice.

Good thing was, her grandfather actually loved her. And being taken care of didn’t sound so bad.

#simbar fanfic #simbar #simón álvarez #ámbar smith #soy luna fanfic #yes this is PACKED with headcanons #also ámbar in a marabou robe is such a concept

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tasteforrot · 3 years ago

Text

Dining Alone At Plaza Azteca

You are always sending me quotes from books that I haven’t read and probably will never read.

We talk about these quotes like conversation because we don’t have anything else to say to each other.

Instead of talking about current events, pop culture, or emailing YouTube video links back and forth, we talk about the past. The unchanging events of fictional characters with lives that are more interesting than ours. Filtering our current stimuli through the lens of some dead white guy.

You like to point out quotes that seem to abstractly apply to our current situation.

I’m currently shitting. If you were still around you would probably have a quote for that.

Through you I’ve read Phillip Roth:

[“This made me laugh,” you said.]

“Just as I am about to unlock the door, imagining I have covered my tracks. My heart lurches at the sight of what is hanging like snot to the toe of my shoe. I am the Roskolnikov of jerking off- the sticky evidence is everywhere!”

[“It has a section titled ‘Cunt Crazy’. The son has a literal Oedipal fixation on his mother. It is written in stream-of-consciousness self-loathing Jewish-American continuous prose. What is with male writers and their cocks? I’ve never felt the urge to write about jacking off. But it is a perennial fixation for Updike and apparently Phillip Roth.”

I said something like, “I think writing is not dissimilar to masturbation.”]

Under the Loving Care of the Fatherly Leader: North Korea and the Kim Dynasty by Bradley K. Martin:

“North Korea called Carter a ‘vicious political mountebank;” his journey, ‘a powder-reeking trip of a hypocrite agitating for aggression and war.’ But a North Korean spokesman in Tokyo said that, in the North Korean lexicon, this was a relatively moderate slur. At least the North had not called Carter an imperialist, its worst insult. “Not an imperialist! Anything but that!”

[For three days we joked in mock horror about the thought of being called an imperialist. You brought up the joke recently and I groaned in return.]

The Marriage Plot by Jeffery Eugenides:

“He held up the baggie. Leonard stuck his nose into the bag and his depression lifted another notch. It smelled like the Amazonian rain forest, like putting your head between the legs of a native girl that had never heard of Christianity.”

[You called it a ‘paltry piece of fiction’ but you said you wanted to put your head between my legs and I said ‘okay’ even though I had no intention of letting you do that. I remembered the first time you went down on me in the hotel room that you lived in at the time. It was the first time anyone had ever gone down on me. It was the first time someone had done something specifically for me for more than an hour. You kept looking up at me periodically with this apologetic look on your face. I kept looking at your bed sheets, trying to figure out the thread count with a concerned enough look on my face that could have hopefully been misconstrued as a look of pleasure. You had an asthma attack during and after.]

Once, you texted me and said, “I must fuck you.”

I didn’t reply but I took a screen shot of the text. I texted you the screenshot a few days later without context.

It is the only quote I have sent you. I think I sent it in a way that meant, ‘look at all the ridiculous things you say to me.’ But you took it as meaning I wanted to sext.

That was the conversation that you told me I would be good at writing erotica and then made sure to add that you’re too much of a book snob to read erotica. Though, while I was sending you detailed descriptions of how I masturbated (face down, sometimes with lesbian porn) you didn’t seem to mind erotic realism.

Tonight you will text me with something like,

“Intense solitude becomes unbearable only when there’s nothing one wishes to say to another.”

You’ll text me again before I answer and tell me that the quote is from ‘Americana’ by Don DeLillo.

I will look at my Iphone light up then check my Gmail.

While I’m going through my spam inbox, trying to figure out how to get off all of these subscription lists (Macy’s, PETA, Sierra Club, ModCloth, Urban Outfitters) that I thought were a good idea to sign up for at some point, you’ll text me a third time and say something like,

“I just finished a margarita. I am dining at alone at Plaza Azteca”

You have perfectly crafted a scenario within the span of three text messages of a lonely drunk writer, drinking comically tropical drinks in a Mexican restaurant, while contemplating the prose of the ‘American heartland’. In the back of your mind, behind your wire framed glasses, matted, self-conscious beard, and nervously thin lips, you think that this is a romantic vision of a struggling writer that drinks margaritas until drunk or out of cash and eats vegetarian tacos because they are cheaper.

Bukowski in paradise.

You quoted Bukowski too many times to count. It was mostly in reference to how you were so much like him. Or how you thought that drinking at 3 am on a Tuesday while writing self-loathing poetry made you so much like him. I usually waited until about the fifth text in a row to text you back when you got started on your Bukowski rants. I knew that the important part wasn’t that I had anything to say back. The important part was to make you feel like someone else thought you were like Bukowski. I didn’t think that but I also didn’t feel strongly enough against it to start any sort of debate.

I always wanted to tell you that I hate Bukowski.

I hate Bukowski. Maybe you are kind of like him.

In response to the first text in the trilogy I text back,

“I like that quote”

Even though I don’t really like that quote.

I like to sit alone and not talk about how I’m sitting alone. I like to drink to get drunk then go to sleep in my own bed. I don’t mind not having anything to say.

Immediately you respond,

“I knew you would.”

“I want you. Come to me.”

I do not want to drink margaritas with you. I do not want to talk in quotes. I do want to be the kind of person that brings novels to Mexican restaurants.

I do not want to be with the kind of person that thinks bringing a novel to a Mexican restaurant makes them an interesting person.

Some nights I just want to watch Mean Girls and talk about the weather. Some nights I really don’t care what is and isn’t post-modern. Some nights I wish that we were post-conversation.

I wish that we didn’t have to turn everything into a metaphor for itself.

You once told me I was your ‘manic pixie dream girl’ like you had never even spoken to me before. Like I was a caricature of myself or a trope to be employed in one of your short stories. You can never talk to me like I am in the present tense.

If I met you at Plaza Azteca I would order a beer, or I would get you to order a beer for me, and you would start talking about how beer makes your stomach queasy the way I make your stomach queasy. The way you are writing a novella about a girl that makes your stomach queasy. You will use that word ‘queasy’ and I will hate it but I will nod like I am interested in becoming a character. I would spend the evening trying to figure out ways to hide my water cup from the waiter who was determined not to see it empty. I would want to see the cup completely empty. No water, no ice. I would sip my beer and hide my water and you would talk to me about something you read or wanted to read. Something about Gore Vidal or Salman Rushdie. You wouldn’t notice what I was doing with my water. I would think silently about how many water related quotes you had; quotes about being empty.

“K.”

#Gabby Gabby #Banango Street Issue 1

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savvylark · 7 years ago

Text

Not Your Mama’s Hallmark Christmas Part 1

Thank you to the amazing @javistg being my beta and encouraging.

Katniss tends to be cynical about materialism, love, and marriage. Her friends have replaced the family she lost. So when Peeta needs help, her friends don’t need more than a strong arm to convince her. Katniss finds herself having a very different Christmas this year with the Mellark family, posing as Peeta’s girlfriend. What will change when this starts to look like a strange Hallmark movie?

Ready for part 2?

The air is thick with affection and laughter. Snow lightly falls, twinkling and tumbling outside the window, echoing the light-hearted mood inside.

The cynic in me can’t stand the jolly commercialism that the winter season brings. Despite all of this I can’t help but truly enjoy myself when we all get together, as if we are a real family celebrating Christmas.

Madge and Gale’s upscale apartment looks like West Elm meets Martha Stewart’s holiday catalog. Spread after spread of delicious and appropriately holiday themed hors d'oeuvre and snacks are on every surface. Wine and seasonal cocktails have been flowing.

“Hey! I don’t judge you with your choices in men!” Peeta’s tone is serious, but his expression says otherwise. He’s already 3 spiked eggnogs in, following tradition.

Finnick, Annie, and Thresh’s new girlfriend, Rue, are laughing around the table as I tease Peeta about his newest ex-girlfriend.

“I’m just saying, with a name like Glimmer? I mean, do shiny objects keep her occupied?” I ask Peeta.

He winces, but smiles.

“Is she confessing personal problems with that nickname?” I smirk, as the whole table erupts in laughter.

Gale and Madge are also pulled out of their own little world leaning near the wet bar.

Tresh joins us from the kitchen, shaking his head, amused at our usual banter. Thresh hands his girlfriend Rue another egg nog, placing a platter of food in front of us. Always playing host.

Peeta bites his lip to repress his laughter. Ugh, I love and hate when he does that.

He looks in my eyes and jabs back at me.

“Oh, you’re one to talk. A nickname like Marvel didn’t give you any clue that you had found your very own Sheldon Cooper?” Peeta’s blue eyes twinkle with amusement.

I scowl, but my eyes reveal the laughter I’m stifling. “Who doesn’t like the Marvel movies? I should have known that meant he would be SO into comic books!” I snap back with equal amusement. “And Cosplay.”

We all chuckle, there’s nothing wrong with cosplay, it’s just not my scene at all. A hilariously poor match.

Peeta looks over at Johanna.

“Jo, what was that hipster guy’s name you dated, the one who never showered? Bright?”

Jo scowls, but her eyes prove she’s just as amused as we are. “Hey, don’t bash a hipster! You’re looking at one.” She winks and continues. “BLIGHT was his name!”

“I hated that guy!” Thresh adds.

If our own 6’6” gigantic teddy bear didn’t even like the guy, that’s saying something.

Johanna sighs. “He was a disaster! I appreciate a man who has an aversion to anything mainstream, but he used it as a reason to have zero responsibility for anything. Blight, I’m positive he made that name up! Rhymes with flight. That should have been my first clue.”

She goes on to tells about the time he asked a librarian if they had showers in their bathroom. That’s how Jo promptly left Blight, stranded at the library.

Chatter continues throughout the room.

Johanna leans her body towards Peeta and pokes his side. “Weelllll, Peeta-bread, what are you going to do for your mom’s insane Christmas bash for all the rich snobs without Sparkle for the holidays?” Johanna pries, emphasis on the ridiculous name.

Peeta makes a low growl noise in his throat and shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair.

“That’s why you started dating Glitter in the first place, right? To get your mean ol’ mommy Mellark off your back?” She’s teasing, but some concern is evident in her expression. She cares. Prickly, sarcastic Johanna Mason has always had a soft spot for the people she loves.

Every one of us knows just how awful Peeta’s mother can be. Last year easily takes the cake as being the height of humiliation. Peeta brought up the topic of marriage to his heiress and mother-approved girlfriend of 4 years. Her rejection lead to their break up, and left him a broken man.

Right before a prominent holiday season.

Peeta’s mother was awful to him the entire visit for Christmas.

Peeta is determined to avoid a repeat.

All of us stayed nearby our college town, hours from our hometowns, for similar broken or dysfunctional family reasons.

Staying together also means having the second family we’ve found in our friends.

We all went to Panem State together at various points of arrival. Gale, Peeta, and Finnick had been in their 3rd year when Madge and I started.

Thresh and I were fast friends our freshman year and started regular pizza and movie nights with Madge and Gale, our pseudo family slowly fell into place.

Johanna was, and still is, my roommate who I met through Peeta and Finnick.

Sweet Rue, Thresh’s girlfriend, became an easy addition in the last year.

Peeta doesn’t answer Johanna’s question. The conversation steers to memorable Christmas parties and ugly sweaters.

Jo smirks at me. “Remember that time–,”

“Oh I remember! Johanna tricked me into wearing the ugliest sweater at a party that WASN’T an ugly sweater party. I thought I was going to win!” I grit my teeth and scowl at the memory.

“Three years in a row!” Johanna adds, to my humiliation.

I growl.

I’m met with amused smiles and laughter.

Finnick delves into a ridiculous story about a friend who was wearing Christmas lights in his ugly sweater and nearly landed him a Darwin Award by electrocution.

Finnick heroically kicked him in the chest to unplug the lights, but in doing so, he embedded broken bulbs in the guy’s chest.

That party ended with a trip to the ER treating the friend’s electrocution and stitches.

The details he adds, no one could make up.

Finnick’s knack for acquiring stories is phenomenal. We’re all in stitches, laughing until our sides hurt.

“Well, Peet, if you have to go to the party alone, at least Annie and I will be there to take some of the pressure off,” Finnick says to his best friend as Annie hands him his coat.

Annie’s parents are old friends of the Mellarks, so she’s been to their parties since childhood and is well acquainted with how important appearances are, and the pressure Mrs. Mellark puts on her youngest son.

Behind them is Rue, also carrying 2 coats.

Thresh lifts me into his arms in his signature crushing hug.

Rue giggles as I make a show of gasping for air.

The couples continue to exchange their goodbyes, and ‘Merry Christmases’ handing each of us a present and head out of Madge and Gale’s apartment.

I watch the couples head to the stairs, hand in hand.

Rue’s warm brown eyes rarely leave Thresh’s face. She smiles softly as he talks to her with such affection. The look in his eyes says Rue is everything.

I know my friend. He’s in love.

Annie and Finnick are more playful.

Annie blushes as Finnick whispers in her ear then kisses her cheek. She’s pushes him away. Bumps his shoulder a little while their fingers remain entwined. Annie’s giggle is infectious and echoes through the stairwell. Again, it’s the look Finnick has in his eyes that melts my Grinchly heart. Annie holds his heart for eternity.

Then, it hits me.

Maybe I do want that some day?

I’ve never admitted it to myself.

Everyone knows I have scoffed at love and marriage, probably since the very first boy that caught my eye when I was 16.

But people change.

I shrug my shoulders and shut the apartment door, and those thoughts.

Jo has clearly had too many drinks at this point, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “I would definitely help you out if I wasn’t set on getting my ass to the beach. I just can’t stand family gatherings. And, as fun as it would be to piss your mom off, I think you’re hoping for someone to take away the attention rather than direct more to you, amiright??” she pauses and shoves Peeta. “I TOLD YOU, ask her!” Johanna whisper-yells in her drunken state.

Peeta’s face is red.

I’m pretty sure at one point Jo skipped the eggnog and has been downing the hard stuff straight.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

I purse my lips and try to think of who ‘her’ she’s referring to.

I’ve also never understood why his parents make this party such a big deal, but my own parents were very casual about gatherings.

When I had parents anyway.

Peeta has stressed about this Christmas party every year, but it was after he graduated that he made a point to always bring a girl.

For his mother’s sake.

Peeta looks sheepish, sighs and rubs the back of his neck. Then he turns to me.

Wait, me?

Oh. no.

I’ve seen this hallmark movie. I’m more of a Grinch character myself.

Okay, calm down, it’s just Peeta. Still, I start shaking my head.

Madge gives me this mad-scientist look, raises her eyebrows and I can see her wheels turning now.

She’s gone into planner-mode.

I know Madge is feeling guilty she can’t be there for her cousin Peeta.

Madge typically attends her Aunt and Uncle’s annual holiday party in Merchant. Had she not organized a charity event for childhood cancer that same weekend she would be. It’s hard to keep up with her event planning, and it’s busiest around the holidays and wedding season.

Also, being a senator’s daughter has expectations of it’s own. There are other obligations that she needs to attend.

I would hate to have to deal with the expectations and pressure Madge has, which she handles with such grace.

I imagine when Gale does finally pop the question with that ring burning a hole in his pocket the event itself is going to be insane, and the planning will be flawless.

Madge is very good at what she does.

I dart back and grab another drink while Madge joins Jo and Peeta to conspire.

I groan.

“So Gale, do you have any interesting plans coming up?” I elbow my best friend playfully.

I have been teasing him for months about asking Madge that daunting, er, I mean magical question.

I helped Gale pick out the near-colorless solitaire in a rose-gold setting, and I learned more than I ever wanted to about engagement rings that day.

Diamonds haunted the back of my eyelids for days.

Our cool-calm-and-collected Gale has been a little smug about revealing any engagement plans. Yet he turns into a giddy kid on Christmas morning anytime I mention, or raise my eyebrows in a silent question.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Gale teases back, but can’t keep the gigantic grin off his face.

“Well I better be the first one to hear it!” I say with a wink.

Gale rolls his eyes, laughs, but nods.

We know I will.

It’s actually contagious, to see my best friend so in love, I’m almost giddy with him.

Weird.

So maybe I’m not so allergic to happy endings either.

“Katniss!! We need your help!” Madge says in a sing-songy voice.

I grimace, let out a deep sigh and give Gale a pleading look.

He just shrugs.

Great. No allies here.

And so begins my acting career as Peeta Mellark’s girlfriend for the Holidays with his family.

Madge starts jotting down notes. She lists a hair salon, a wax center, a list of clothing, make up, shoes. Asking Peeta which family members will be in town for the week. Other tentative events –all of which made my childhood Christmases as a poor girl from the wrong side of town sound so meagre.

I’m already a fish out of water.

“I don’t, I don’t even know how–,” I stammer.

Madge interrupts,“Oh, nonsense! I’ll teach you everything, we have time to prepare. Just be yourself, Katniss. You’ve always had a calming effect on Peeta. He needs you and I can’t be there. Everything will be fine, Katniss!”

Jo is finding all of this amusing. “Hey, don’t be brainless! You get to pretend to be a different version of yourself. Haven’t you ever wondered what it would have been like to have more growing up? I have! This could be fun!” Johanna is surprisingly convincing for how drunk she is.

I have to admit, all the things Madge is talking about would be an experience, and I’m not alone. I’ll be with our friend Peeta the whole time.

Now I’m looking at Madge, then Peeta, and back.

“Can we establish a safe word? When it’s too much and I need an escape? I could say ‘do you want to build a snowman?’ Instead of making a run for it.” I try to make light of it but I’m a known flight risk. We all understand this.

“Absolutely, I can help you with an escape to a quiet place, just say so.” Peeta reassures me.

I hesitate and fiddle with my hands.

“All the Mellark baked goods will be on tap the whole week,” he adds.

I look sceptical. “If we’re doing this, we’re going to make it fun. Promise?” I add.

“I promise!” Peeta replies.

“Also, you’re so lucky Prim is off the grid, helping with medical needs from the hurricanes!” I tease. He knows I would never pick this over a Christmas with my sister.

I’m also keeping his little crisis in perspective, this isn’t a real crisis at all.

“Fine. I’ll do it,” I say with a huff.

Johanna and Madge cheer.

Gale is laughing at my predicament.

“You’re the best, Everdeen!” Peeta wraps me up in a tight full body hug.

I stiffen a little but don’t pull away.

I’m just not much for hugging, but I’ve tried to get used to Peeta’s, Thresh’s and, well, probably half our friends touchy, affectionate tendencies.Especially after the alcohol is flowing.

It surprises me that of all our friends, it’s actually Peeta and Annie whose touchy tendencies turn from affection to questionable around me after a few drinks.

Peeta keeps his body flush to mine and this hug is turning not so innocent.

I shove him back playfully. I have stories.

“Easy tiger! That reminds me. Let’s work through some rules? I think for all intents and purposes we should appear to be dating exclusively, just out of respect for each other. Try to keep excessive flirting with the ladies to a minimum?” I ask of Peeta.

“Noted. Only flirt with you.” Peeta grins widely and emphasizes you with his finger to my nose.

I roll my eyes.

“What about you, Peeta? Ground rules for your lovely girlfriend?” I ask with a sarcastic tone, batting my eyes in mock flirtation.

Jo smirks.

Madge is busy in thought.

Gale is cleaning up.

“Oh um, yeah, don’t jingle anyone else’s Christmas bells?” He grins.

I glare at him.

He laughs. “The only sleigh you should be riding is–,”

“PEETA!” I interrupt, trying to scowl, but my amusement shows.

Jo gives him a high five.

“Okay, OKAY! Umm, I’m going to be myself, so I’m going to be affectionate in front of people,” Peeta says while my eyes go wide, he’s not suggesting… “No! Nothing crazy. I just mean hand holding, arm around your shoulder, light touching. The kind a grandma would approve of. Try not to resist me,” he says with a wink.

Then he demonstrates by putting an arm around me.

Did it just get a little warmer in here? I shrug my shoulders up a little. Then I remind myself not to resist.

Madge and Jo laugh at me while I struggle.

Peeta has his Casanova smile, then he leans in.

I start to breath heavier when his hot breath tickles my neck.

“Remember, we’re madly in love, so it’s alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it,” he whispers.

My cheeks go red and I shove him away as Madge and Jo hoot and holler.

I shake my head and laugh with them.

I grab some ice out of my water cup and smear it all over Peeta’s face.

“Cool it there, Don Lothario! Not everyone is comfortable with such blatant forwardness!” I say grinning. I know I’ve won this round.

“Back to their antics!” Johanna mumbles.

Jo and Madge start whispering.

Nope, I’m not going to stick around for the teasing that will follow.

“Hey I’m going to get going. Jo, do you need a ride to our apartment? Peeta you’re staying here?” I ask the two who don’t live in this upscale apartment.

“I’m good,” Peeta says with a nod, raising another drink in his hand, meaning he’s staying here.

Jo grabs her coat as I say my goodbyes and hand out my remaining few Christmas gifts to our friends.

It’s so nice to have Christmas here every year.

Jo and I are adult orphans, so this is our family Christmas. Or was.

Now I’m joining Peeta’s family.

#savvylark #fanfic #holiday fic #katniss and peeta #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #hallmark #not your mamas hallmark christmas #everlark #christmas fic #things savvy writes

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stereksecretsanta · 7 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, @caffeine-in-an-iv!

Happy Holidays and/or Seasons Greetings to my Secret Santa, caffeine-in-an-iv aka WitchWithWifi! I heard you liked Christmas fluff! Well, have I got some fluff for you! I really hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much for reading!

Read on AO3

*****

Follow the Jelly Beans

Derek can’t believe he’s the last one off the plane.

It’s partially his fault, he’d been working late and had to rush to the airport. The dirty looks he’d gotten when he ran down the aisle of the plane in a crumpled suit rivaled what he had gotten from his mother on Skype that morning when he said he’d be catching a later flight.

It isn’t Derek’s fault that his students had handed in work at the last minute that had to be graded before Christmas break. He knows he’s been too soft on them, but he’s always been a sucker for personal statements and reading about his students’ holiday traditions made him even more lenient than usual.

He’d shoved himself into the middle seat closest to the rear lavatory with a sheepish look on his face. It was a six-hour flight from New York to Sacramento and he clutched his worn copy of A Christmas Carol and settled in to read it like he did every winter.

By the time he deplanes and makes it to baggage claim, his suitcase is the only one left. The tag is torn off but he’s already missed 8 calls from Cora and just grabs it quickly before rushing outside.

“Get in, loser!” she calls from the window of her Jeep. “Everyone is waiting for you to decorate the tree!”

“Christmas is in like two days, and you still haven’t decorated?” Derek asks, throwing his ratty rollaway bag into the trunk.

“Mom wanted us to all be together. But someone had to go and move halfway across the world.”

“I like my job, Cora,” Derek says, buckling his seatbelt. “You don’t just turn down Columbia.”

“You sound like such an East Coast snob when you say stuff like that,” she says, weaving through the crazy holiday traffic.

“And you’re my least favorite sister.”

“Ha fucking ha,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Your life is in my hands right now, don’t mess with me,” she adds, changing lanes just a hair too close for Derek’s comfort.

It takes a few hours but they make it back to the house in one piece and Derek can already hear the kids screaming as they pull into the drive. It makes him smile. He doesn’t get home as often as he should and hopes the small gifts he has packed are enough for him to keep his title as favorite uncle.

”Finally!” he hears from the front porch as he grabs his suitcase. “I thought you’d walked here.”

His mother is just as striking as ever, just a few streaks of grey in her dark hair betraying her age. “Sorry, Mom,” he says softly into her hair as he’s pulled into a hug.

“Uncle Derek!” someone screams as they tackle him around the knees. “It’s pajama time!”

“I can see that!” he says, stooping down to get a hug and a kiss from Laura’s youngest. “Give me a minute and I’ll go change.” He waves hello to everyone else who is gathered around a bare tree and hops up the stairs to his childhood bedroom to put on his soft flannel bottoms. Gracie had picked them out especially for him last Christmas and he made sure to pack them for the traditional pajama decorating party.

Only his pants aren’t in the bag. In fact, none of his belongings are in the bag. It’s not his bag at all.

“Oh no,” he mutters, sifting through the contents. “Who the fuck packed this?”

The suitcase is utter chaos. There’s an assortment of wrapped Christmas gifts and scrunched up clothes but there’s also a bunch of half knitted scarves, action figures, baby toys and… are those throwing stars in that carrying case? To cap it all off, every nook and cranny of the bag is full of loose jelly beans.

“Oh my God,” Laura snickers from the doorway. “Did you switch bags with a killer Easter Bunny?”

“I have no idea,” he says, pulling out a noise machine and a copy of Go the Fuck to Sleep .

“Is that a fishing rod?” she asks, stepping forward to grab an oblong shape out of a long pocket. “This thing is kind of cool,” she says, snapping the rod together to its full length. “It’s like stealth fishing.”

“I need to call the airline,” Derek says, reaching for his phone. “I had all the gifts in there. And I don’t think I can fit in any of these clothes,” he adds, pulling out a well-worn Batman tee shirt that’s at least two sizes too small for him.

He’s on hold for twenty minutes with Laura tapping her foot and looking at her watch before the helpline connects. They are no help at all. Does he know how many bags get lost during Christmas? It’s impossible for them to match up every bag with every person and there’s nothing matching his description left at the airport. Someone else must have taken his bag by mistake. So sorry, happens all the time, Merry Christmas.

“Fuck!” he groans, ending the call. “Someone else has my bag and I’ve got this… whatever this junk is.”

“We could just give the kids these and hope they’re not porn,” Laura says, chuckling as she reaches for one of the wrapped presents. It’s Star Wars wrapping paper. R2-D2 is wearing a Santa hat and everything.

“You can’t do that, Laura!” Derek says, snatching the present out of her hand. “You’re going to ruin someone’s Christmas.”

“You’re such a Tiny Tim,” Laura teases, dropping the present with a huff. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow. It’s getting close to bedtime for the kids and we still have to decorate and have hot chocolate. You know how Dad is about tradition.”

“I’m coming, just…” he trails off, opening a drawer and finding nothing but old clothes from high school “Can I borrow something from Adam? I don’t have any pajamas to wear.”

“Sure thing, bro,” she says, leading him out of the room.

It’s wonderfully chaotic as always, and the footie Minion pajamas Derek is forced into only add to the ridiculousness of it all. Thirteen people under one roof is always a bit crazy, but coming in late without any of his belongings has Derek feeling a bit more overwhelmed than usual.

“I don’t think you’re going to be getting your stuff back, sweetheart,” Talia says hours later as the adults share a much-needed glass of wine. “We can do some last minute shopping tomorrow if you really want, but the kids are just happy you’re here.”

“I had a 50th Anniversary copy of The Hobbit for West,” Derek groans, rubbing at his beard.

“And you didn’t carry it on?” Peter asks, swirling his wine with his feet up in his wife’s lap. “It’s like you were asking for it.”

“I’ll help you see if there are any clues in the bag,” Cora says, tossing a dirty look in Peter’s direction.

They go through everything in the bag piece by piece, sorting it into piles and collecting the jelly beans in a ziplock bag. Without opening the presents, there aren’t a lot of clues. The only identifying item is a ratty old Beacon Hills High Lacrosse tee shirt.

“This looks at least five years old, maybe ten,” Cora says, holding it up to her chest. “The underwear tells me it’s a dude, at least.”

“I don’t think I can go to the high school and ask, ‘hey I know this is a long shot but do you know whose boxers these are? They used to go here ten years ago,’” Derek says, rolling his eyes.

“Why don’t you just open a present,” she suggests, shaking a box. It doesn’t make any noise. “It’s not like the guy can’t re-wrap them.”

“I don’t know,” Derek says, flopping down on his back on his old full bed. “It feels weird and invasive.”

“Just imagine that he’s probably touching your underwear now, too. If that makes you feel any better,” she says, poking him in the side as she drops the box back in the suitcase.

“Somehow that’s not comforting,” Derek groans, kicking out at her.

“Why don’t you just start with one,” she says, holding up another small package. “If that doesn’t help you can try another one. That way you won’t ruin everything, you big baby.”

“Okay,” Derek says, not having any better ideas. He grabs the gift and reads the tag. “To Scott: Finally saw one of these come through the store and nabbed it for you.” Derek peels back the corner of the paper and finds a Funkopop box. Sliding through the tape and removing the paper he sees that it’s a glow in the dark White Walker.

“I have no idea,” Cora says, quickly becoming bored. “Try the comic book store in the morning. If they’re even open on Christmas Eve.”

Derek does exactly that. He checks online and is standing out front of Beacon Hills Comics with a cup of coffee exactly when it opens.

“Can I help you?” the clerk asks, eyebrows high. Derek must not look like their typical customer in his tweed jacket and slacks.

“I kind of found this,” he says, putting the box on the table. “And I was wondering if you could tell me about it.”

“Seriously?” he says, eyes brightening as he carefully lifts the box. “These are really rare. You just found it somewhere?”

“It’s a long story,” Derek says, sighing. “Do you know where someone might have gotten it?”

“Are you looking to sell? Because I’ll give you $200 for it.”

“Thank you, but no,” Derek says, shaking his head. He has no idea if that’s a fair price or not, but he’s sure as hell not selling someone else’s Christmas gift.

“Most of the time people buy and sell these on eBay or at stores like this. The super rare ones are only sold at like Comicon and stuff.”

“Okay…” Derek says, puzzling through the information. “So whoever bought this is a nerd?”

“We’re all nerds,” the man says with a huff. “This guy is a collector. Someone serious.”

“Okay,” Derek says, reaching for the doll. “Thanks for your help.”

“$300!” the guy calls as Derek leaves the store.

“No deal,” he says with a small smile on his face, more determined than ever.

He thinks it over while he plays Guess Who with the kids. The more he thinks about the collection or random stuff in the suitcase, the more he thinks he might like to meet whoever owns it.

Under the watchful eye of Laura and his mother, he helps Gracie, West, Charlotte, and Milo decorate Christmas cookies, which is more of a test of patience than anything. By the time they’re done, Derek is covered in frosting and has sprinkles stuck in his beard. He takes a second shower before choosing another present to open.

This one is much larger than the last, but a completely ridiculous shape. The tag reads: “To Allison: Your other gift got shipped, but I thought you’d enjoy this. Might be fun to scare the kids with.”

Derek slips the paper off to find a headband in his hand. There’s an arrow going through it. He cracks up. Who is this guy? A magician? An evil mastermind? An eccentric preschool teacher?

There’s no way the headband is going to help him get anywhere, so he digs another present out of a pile of jelly beans. This one is squishy and the tag reads: “To Melissa: No more putting it off. It’s time for your childhood dreams to come true. Eat your heart out, Tonya Harding.”

Inside is a pair of fur-lined mittens. Slipped inside one of them is an envelope containing a voucher for ice skating lessons… at the Beacon Hills rink. Smiling to himself, Derek rounds up the kids and loads them into Laura’s minivan for a fun surprise trip with Uncle Derek.

Gracie and West help the other two on with their skates while Derek speaks to the front office. Their website is down so they’re unable to trace orders that were placed online, but they tell him that he’s welcome to schedule his first ice skating lesson now if he likes. Derek politely declines, shaking his head. Another dead end.

Derek laces up his own skates and steps out onto the ice, smiling as the weightless easy feeling takes over him. He watches the kids race around the rink, screaming and laughing as they fall all over each other under the twinkling of the arena’s Christmas lights.

Not for the first time, Derek wonders if he’ll ever have something like this, a loving partner and a couple of kids to bring home to his parents’ for the holidays. Maybe it’s time to give online dating another try. If there’s anyone half as interesting as the suitcase man out there, he might want to ask them for a date.

After a few hours, Derek rounds the kids back up and treats them to hot chocolate. He sits with Milo on his lap and sings along to the Christmas carols being pumped through the tinny arena speakers with a smile on his face. Even a bit of scalding cocoa spilled on his pants does little to dampen the spirit of the season.

“What are you thinking about?” Gracie asks him on their way back to the car, already far too perceptive for her age.

“How things are going to be next Christmas,” he says, smiling sweetly down at her as they help the younger kids into their car seats. “You think you’ll get another sister or brother by then?” he teases.

“I hope not. I already heard Mom say Milo was an accident,” she stage whispers.

Derek laughs freely, making sure everyone is buckled in tight before heading back to the Hale house. As they sit beside the fire reading The Night Before Christmas later that evening, Derek thinks about the suitcase man and who he might be spending Christmas with.

Unable to sleep from all the chocolate he’s had in the last two days, Derek stares at the ceiling at 11 p.m. He’s no closer to finding out where his suitcase is and tomorrow is Christmas.

One more , he tells himself, getting up and flicking the light back on. He digs around in the suitcase until he finds the present Cora shook the night before.

Carefully slitting the tape, Derek reveals a plain white box. Inside, painstakingly wrapped in white tissue paper is a framed photograph. It’s old, the colors worn and tinted orange like so many other family photos he’s seen over the years.

A man stands next to a police cruiser, one hand leaning against the roof while the other holds tight to the leg of the young boy who’s sitting on his shoulders. It’s shot from behind, so Derek can’t see their faces, but he knows for sure this is a special photograph. He also knows that the little boy in the photos must be the one who went to Beacon Hills High ten years ago and filled his suitcase with jelly beans.

He stares at the photo for a long time, tracing the lines of the car with his finger until it clicks. This boy’s father was a local police officer. If he was twenty years ago, maybe he still is and if not, at least someone at the station would be able to identify the car.

Moving quickly, Derek makes sure everything is back in the suitcase before grabbing the photograph and rushing downstairs. “Hey Peter, can I borrow your car?” he asks quietly. Peter and his wife Savannah are curled up on the couch, Charlotte asleep between them.

“Keys are in the kitchen,” he says softly, brushing the hair out of Charlotte’s face as Savannah looks on. Her eyes are sleepy but bright with love, it’s obvious how happy they are together.

Derek’s heart aches as he stares for a second, caught up in the sight of something he’s not sure he’ll ever experience himself. Shaking his head slightly, he pushes on, retrieving Peter’s keys and shoving the suitcase in the trunk. It’s a short ride to the Sheriff’s station and Derek barely even has time to think about what he’s going to say before he’s heading inside.

“Can I help you?” the dispatcher says, barely looking up from the paperwork he’s shuffling through.

“I was wondering if you knew who was in this picture? I think they might work here,” Derek says, holding out the frame.

The dispatcher laughs. “That’s a good one,” he says, handing the photo back. “Hey Sheriff!” he calls behind him. “Someone here to see you!”

“How many times have I told you to use the intercom,” a man says, poking his head out of an office down the hall. He’s imposing in his uniform but looks kind, blonde and tan with a coffee mug in his hand.

“It’s a small office, Sheriff,” the man says, turning back to his paperwork.

“Don’t I know it,” the Sheriff says, sighing as he leans his hand on the doorframe. “That’s why we’re all working on Christmas Eve. What can I do for you, son?” he asks, turning to Derek.

“Uhh…” Derek says, stepping forward when the Sheriff waves him over. “I think…” he trails off again searching for the words. “Is this you?” he asks instead, holding out the photograph.

“Wow,” he says, taking it and sitting down heavily in his desk chair. “Where did you get this?”

“I got the wrong bag at the airport,” Derek says, watching the Sheriff’s face intently as he studies the photograph. It’s happy, but also wistful. It makes Derek think that while the suitcase man in the picture is probably still alive, maybe the person who took the photo isn’t. “It was full of all this completely insane stuff, but also a few presents. That was one of them.”

“So you’re the one who ended up with Stiles’ bag,” the Sheriff says, a smile spreading across his face as he starts to chuckle. “He’s an odd one, my son.”

“Do you want the bag?” Derek asks, a little put out. After all the work he put in to finding the suitcase man, he kind of wants to see it through to the end.

“I’m working the night shift tonight. Why don’t you go to my house and give it to him? Just don’t ring the bell or you’ll wake the baby. If that’s not too much trouble?”

“Sure. No problem,” Derek says, taking the photo back when it’s offered. Knowing there’s actually a baby involved at least makes sense of half of the items in the suitcase, the others, not so much. “Thanks, Sheriff.”

“Call me John,” the man says, holding out his hand. “It’s 129 Woodbine Lane,” he adds, walking Derek out. “And thanks for hunting him down. Especially on Christmas. It would have been a shame to lose that photo.”

“You’re welcome,” Derek says, turning toward the door. “I’m Derek, by the way.”

“I know who you are, son,” John says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve lived here for years. Your sister went to school with Stiles.”

“Oh,” Derek says softly. He’s kind of struck dumb by what a small world it is, that Stiles was on the same flight as him coming home to Beacon Hills for Christmas on the same day with a bag that exactly matched his. “I’ll get this to him.”

“Make sure he gives you a proper thank you,” John adds, waving before heading back to his office.

Derek gets back in the car and heads over to Woodbine. He must have run down this block a hundred times as a kid and never knew the Sheriff or his son. Retrieving the bag from the trunk, Derek walks slowly up the front steps. He’s thought of nothing else for the past 36 hours and yet now that he’s here he’s hesitant to knock.

Taking a deep breath, Derek raises his hand and gives the glass a light rap. A few seconds later the curtain flies open and a freckled face appears. Derek waves, mouthing “hi” like Stiles has any idea who he is. He points down at the suitcase and hopes Stiles will get the idea.

The door opens quietly and the suitcase man invites him inside. He takes the bag from Derek’s hand and immediately opens it on the coffee table. “I swear to God, if the Binky Bear isn’t in here, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“What?” Derek says, eyebrows flying up.

“Binky Bear. It’s this little stuffed bear with a nipple attached. Have you seen it?”

“Uhh…” Derek says, getting lost for a second when he looks down to see the waistband of the man’s underwear sticking up out of his pajama bottoms. “I think in the side pocket maybe?” he walks around the table to the other side of the suitcase and unzips a hidden pocket, revealing the bear.

“Thank fuck,” Stiles says, grabbing the bear and clutching it to his chest. “I thought I had it in the diaper bag and then it was nowhere and I just… it was touch and go there for a while, I’m not gonna lie. I thought she was going to eat me.”

“Your... daughter?” Derek asks, not wanting to assume anything further.

“Yeah, she’s two and when they say terrible, they mean terrible, holy fuck,” he says, flopping down on the couch, looking exhausted.

“Ah,” Derek says, not knowing what he’s supposed to do now. “Are you supposed to curse this much if you have a two-year-old?”

“She’s sleeping, Suitcase Man,” Stiles says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t happen very often so when it does, you have to take full advantage. You don’t have kids, do you?”

“Uhh no,” Derek says, scratching at his beard awkwardly. “I have nieces and nephews.”

“Wait a second,” Stiles says, eyes narrowing in Derek’s direction. “You’re Derek Hale, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“The beard threw me off for a minute but I never forget a face,” Stiles says. “I went to school with you. Same year as Cora.”

“She didn’t say…” Derek says, trying to string a coherent sentence together. “I mean we saw the lacrosse shirt in the bag but we didn’t really know who it was.”

“How did you find me then?” he asks, heading to the fridge and returning with two beers, handing one to Derek.

“This,” Derek says, pulling the framed photo from the inside pocket of his coat. “I went to the Sheriff’s station. Met your dad.”

“That’s A+ detective work, Mr. Hale,” Stiles jokes, tipping his beer toward Derek.

“I didn’t want to open the presents, but I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“It’s alright, I’d given it up as a lost cause. I must have your bag. Sorry about that, by the way. I may have rage dumped it looking for the Binky Bear.”

“That’s alright,” Derek says, mind reeling. Stiles is without a doubt one of the most peculiar people he’s ever met. “I have to ask though… what’s with the jelly beans?”

“Well, Derek,” Stiles says, propping his feet up on the suitcase. It slouches him down far enough that a strip of his stomach is showing between his underwear and his Green Arrow tee shirt. “When your ex-girlfriend shows up on your doorstep with a two-year-old and says she’d like to relinquish custody, you do just about whatever it takes to get that little baby girl potty trained. The only thing that seems to work is jelly beans. She inherited my penchant for junk food. The bag popped while I was packing but I just kind of went with it. I needed those jelly beans, Derek.”

“Huh,” Derek says, frowning. “I was thinking magician.”

“What?” Stiles crows, practically folding himself in half as he spasms with laughter. “What made you say magician?”

“I don’t know… the throwing stars and the scarves and the arrow headband thingy? It was either that or super villain,” Derek says in a huff.

“I own a comic book store in New York,” Stiles says, still laughing. “Although I might take up villainy on the side. Sounds like a sweet gig.”

“I teach English at Columbia,” Derek says. “Not as fun as a comic book store, I’m sure.”

“What’s your favorite book?” Stiles asks, narrowing his eyes. “Be warned that our fledgling relationship depends on your answer.”

“Don’t ask me that,” Derek says, groaning. “That’s not fair. I can’t pick one book.”

“Answer the question, Mr. Hale,” Stiles says, staring him down.

Derek downs the rest of his beer before saying, “ Don Quixote ,” with a grimace.

“No shit,” Stiles says. “I bet you’re bilingual too,” he adds rolling his eyes.

Derek doesn’t even bother answering. He is bilingual, but he knows Stiles is just trying to embarrass him.

“Try again. What’s your second favorite book?”

“ Welcome to the Monkey House ,” Derek says immediately.

“Better,” Stiles says, tossing his head back and forth like he’s considering it.

“What’s your favorite book then? If you’re going to be so judgmental about it,” Derek says, eyebrows raised.

“ Ender’s Game ,” Stiles says. Before Derek even has time to consider this, he shoots back, “Favorite author?”

“Neruda,” Derek says, flashing Stiles a grin.

“Poetry doesn’t count,” Stiles says. He’s shaking his head but he’s smiling.

“My PhD in literature begs to differ,” Derek says as Stiles hops off the couch for more beer. He’s already feeling loose and comfortable, all awkwardness of their meeting flown out the window.

“Fine,” Stiles says, flopping back on the couch. “Favorite band, then.”

He’s closer to Derek now, his feet practically in Derek’s lap. There’s an easy familiarity to the gesture that makes something in Derek relax even further.

“What is this? A job interview?” Derek asks, laughing as he watches Stiles’ beer foam over.

Stiles chases the spill with his tongue, licking his fingers as it drips down his hand. “I figured it was more like speed dating,” he says once his hand is clean. “People don’t just hunt you down over some jelly beans. You must be something special.”

“I was… curious,” Derek says, feeling his face heat under his beard. “Interested.”

“Well now I’m interested,” Stiles says easily, flashing him a smile.

They end up talking for hours. Derek asks question after question, eager to find out more about the mysterious man he’s been led to by some sort of twisted Christmas miracle. Stiles teases him mercilessly, making him laugh and blush harder than he has in years.

Eventually, a sharp cry rings out through the baby monitor on the end table and Derek startles. “She’s not going to go back down easy,” Stiles says, peeling himself away from Derek’s side where he’d settled the last time he’d come back from the bathroom.

“I can go,” Derek says, pointing to the door. He glances at his watch and sees that it’s nearly 3 a.m.

“Stay,” Stiles says, reaching for his hand. “I have your clothes anyway. We can talk more. You shouldn’t drive this late at night on Christmas Eve. Too many drunks on the road.”

Derek wants to argue, but all of that sounds perfectly reasonable to him. “Okay,” he says, following Stiles to a bedroom that’s currently serving double duty as an office and a nursery.

“Shh, Wonder Woman, it’s alright,” Stiles coos, reaching down into the crib for the baby girl who is standing up, clinging to the bars and screaming. “I heard you the first time.”

Derek stares. The girl is wearing Wonder Woman themed footie pajamas, her auburn hair curling around her tiny ears. She has Stiles’ little upturned nose and matching freckles on her round face.

“This is Claire,” he says, fitting the crying child against his hip like he’s been doing it for years and not just a few weeks. “Claire, this is my new friend Derek.”

She immediately hides her face in her father’s neck and quiets down. Stiles bounces her a few times, exiting the room and leading Derek down the hall to what must be his own childhood bedroom. There are posters on the walls of some of the bands Stiles had mentioned and superhero paraphernalia everywhere.

“I believe that is yours,” Stiles says, nodding to the corner where Derek’s suitcase stands. “Put on some PJs and join us,” he adds, sitting down on the edge of the bed and patting Claire’s butt to check for leaks.

“Thank you,” Derek says. All his clothes and gifts are inside, still wrapped and folded the way he left them. He pulls out his flannel pajama bottoms and ducks into the bathroom to change.

When he gets back, Stiles is lying down on the bed, Claire resting on his chest with the Binky Bear tucked into her mouth. She’s awake and babbling nonsense around the pacifier. Stiles speaks softly to her, “Really? That’s so interesting!” he replies, cupping the little girl’s head.

Derek picks up a picture book off the bedside table and looks at the cover.

“That’s her favorite, isn’t it Claire-bear?” Stiles coos, rocking her. “It’s cute. You should read it.”

So he does. Derek reads through The Pout-Pout Fish three times before Claire’s eyes fall closed and she starts dozing on Stiles’ chest.

“Hit the light,” Stiles says, yawning. “I’m not moving her again.”

“Okay,” Derek says, like staying right now isn’t a completely absurd thing to do. His entire family will be up in three hours ready to open presents, but right now, Derek doesn’t care. He lays down beside Stiles in the twin sized bed, close enough that he can feel Claire breathing beside him.

“Thanks for bringing the gifts back,” Stiles says, reaching his pinky out to snag Derek’s, linking them together.

“It was a really nice picture of you and your dad,” Derek says softly, turning in toward Stiles, placing his free hand on Claire’s back to feel her breathing. It’s just like when he first babysat Gracie except entirely different. Being here with Stiles is like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

“My mom took it,” Stiles mutters, eyes blinking slowly. “I found it in the attic last Christmas but it took me a while to be able to look at it.”

“She’s been gone a long time?” Derek asks, inching closer to Stiles.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, smiling sadly. “Thanks for bringing her back to me.”

“I’m glad I found you,” Derek says, answering his smile.

“I’m glad you did, too,” Stiles says, leaning in to press his lips against Derek’s. It’s dry and over too quick, but Derek doesn’t ask for anything more. They fall asleep like that, curled in toward each other, pinkies linked, with Claire a solid warmth between them.

It’s 8 a.m. when a soft knock on the door wakes Derek. When he peels his eyes open he sees the Sheriff standing in the doorway, eyes flicking between him and Claire. He gives a small nod and leaves them be.

As quietly as he can, Derek pulls himself out of bed and grabs the handle of his suitcase. His family is probably waiting on him to open presents. Just as he’s thinking about whether or not it would be creepy to kiss Stiles’ cheek goodbye, the man’s eyes flash open.

“Leaving already?” Stiles asks, lips curving into a warm smile. “I thought you might stay forever.”

Derek smiles back, reaching for Stiles’ hand. “I might,” he says softly, knowing Stiles needs the sleep and he’ll only get it as long as Claire is still quiet. “I know you guys probably have plans, but what would you say to dessert at my parents’ house tonight?”

“We’ll be there,” Stiles says, giving Derek a wink. “My dad knows where you live.”

“That’s not terrifying at all,” Derek says with a small laugh, leaning in to kiss Stiles once on the mouth before grabbing his suitcase and heading back downstairs.

“Must have been some thank you,” the Sheriff says from his seat on the couch when Derek passes him.

“Yeah,” Derek says with a sheepish smile. He knows he didn’t do anything wrong but he still feels like a teenager getting caught with his pants down. “I’ll see you all later for dessert,” he says, giving a quick wave and practically running from the house.

Driving quickly, Derek gets home in a matter of minutes and throws Peter’s car in park. He fetches his suitcase and goes around back in an attempt to sneak into the kitchen.

“Really Derek?” Laura asks, looking up from her cup of coffee when he pads into the kitchen. “You do a walk of shame on Christmas morning and you can’t even be bothered to come in wearing last night’s clothes like a normal person?”

“It’s not a walk of shame,” he says quickly, feeling the blush rise to his cheeks as he looks down at his flannel pajama pants.

“Because you’re not feeling ashamed, or because nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened!” he blurts out, burying his head in a cabinet to search for a coffee mug.

“Holy shit,” he hears, seeing Cora appear in the kitchen doorway when he looks up. “You fucked suitcase man!”

“I did not!” Derek shouts, turning his back on both his sisters as he busies himself with fixing his coffee. “And his name is Stiles.”

“Stiles Stilinski? That weird kid from high school who used to do bad magic tricks in the cafeteria?” Cora asks, eyebrows furrowing.

“I knew it! I knew he did magic!” Derek exclaims. “I’m going to kiss that smug look off his face when he gets here.”

“He’s coming for Christmas?” Laura says, eyes lighting up. “Ohh, Derek’s got it baaaaad,” she calls. “Do I hear the pitter-patter of little feet already? You want to have his babies?”

“Well, actually,” Derek says, a smile crossing his face as he thinks about Claire and her Binky Bear.

“No shit,” Cora says, deadpan. “I don’t believe it. You and Stiles and a baby makes three?”

“Her name is Claire and they’re coming over with the Sheriff after dinner,” Derek says, taking a sip of his coffee.

“What’s this I hear about more grandchildren?” his mother calls, her steps heavy on the stairs.

Derek groans while Laura and Cora laugh and throw mini marshmallows at him, but he can’t stop smiling.

Hours later, when dessert is long since gone and Stiles and Derek are kissing under the mistletoe as Claire plays pet hospital with Milo, Derek thinks that maybe following the jelly beans was the smartest dumb thing he’s ever done.

#caffeine-in-an-iv #stereksanta17 #*fic17 #*gifts17

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derryhawkins · 7 years ago

Text

Growing Fame (3/??)

summary: A modern AU where the losers are semi-famous for different things, and when they all run into each other at a certain event, all of their fans go bat-shit crazy – wanting the seven to spend more time together. What they didn’t expect even more than that, though, was a well-known and mean journalist to write bad reviews on them all. Their growing fame could soon shrink, they quickly realized. warnings: mention of slut shaming and drinking/being drunk; swearing pairings: benverly; bichie; steddie; mike/oc a/n: There’s less Richie and Mike in this part but I make it up with a shitty article made by a shitty person at the end, and a small amount of stan x eddie (steddie) at the beginning.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 coming soon

Speculations and False Accusations

There weren’t many things about his roommates that surprised Stan. The two were simple to read and pretty much easy going. Even Mike, Ben, and Beverly didn’t surprise him much when he first met them. Who did surprise Stanley, though, was Richie Tozier; the tall male was pretty much seen as a loose canon in Stan’s eyes. He was nice, though. Still made the stupid ‘your mom’ jokes and dick jokes as if he was still a high schooler, but he was nice.

So imagine Stanley’s shock when he saw a few fans commenting on the vlog he posted the night before, that Richie Tozier could be the boy Bill Denbrough dated for a month in high school. Bill had shared that story before, about how he first realized he was bisexual during a high school hang out and drunkenly making out with some guy. He had dated the same guy for about a month before calling it off; but the boy’s name remained anonymous to the fans, and even Stan and Eddie.

The dirty blond male quickly started reading more and more of the comments speculating that Richie and Bill had dated. The fans were just simply backing it up by saying they were extremely close. Stan wanted to brush it off because the two were best friends, of course they were extremely close. But there was just something about them both when they reunited that gave Stan the feeling that the fans weren’t being crazy this time around. He rubbed at his bottom lip as he thought about the situation.

“Eddie, where’s the peanut butter?!” Bill shouted from the kitchen.

“Middle shelf!” Eddie yelled back from his room.

Stan uncrossed his legs as he got into a better sitting position on his bed. His door was wide open, so he could hear the shouts pretty clearly. He locked his phone as he came up with a little thought and moved off of his bed, quickly making his way out of his room and to Eddie’s. He knocked on the doorframe as he stepped into the room. Eddie looked up from a school text book and to Stan. A smile came over his features, cheeks tinting pink the slightest bit.

“What’s up Stan?” Eddie said.

He looked behind him for a moment, and then shut the bedroom door. He walked to Eddie’s bed and sat down. “What do you think about Richie?” Stan asked.

Eddie looked shocked by the question at first but soon gave a shrug. “He’s okay. Not as bad as I thought he would be, actually,” he replied. “Why?” He paused and smirked. “Does someone have a crush?”

“Ew! No, Eddie, jeez,” Stan frowned and shook his head quickly. “He’s not my type.” He hoped that Eddie didn’t notice his cheeks turning pink at saying the last part.

The smaller boy’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, g- uh, then why are you asking about him?”

“Do you think he could be the guy Bill dated for a month?”

Eddie scoffed. He started to laugh, too, but he slowly stopped as he saw that Stan was completely serious. “Oh… I guess, I mean, it’s possible, maybe. They were a bit touchy the other day.”

Stan slowly nodded. He recalled a moment when they were all standing around at some point at comic con. Richie, with Georgie on his shoulders, and Bill stood side by side with barely any room between them both. Stanley had just brushed it off, pegging it as Bill wanting to be close in case Georgie fell off of Richie. But the dark haired boy had a tight hold on the young kid.

“We should just ask Bill-.”

“Eddie, no, that’s stupid. He would’ve said something by if he wanted to tell us.”

“Well, we can’t ask Richie, he’ll be way too suspicious.”

The two young males sat in silence for a few moments, thinking about the speculation that Richie and Bill dated. Suddenly, Eddie let out an “ah-ha” and picked up his phone from beside the lamp on his bedside table. Stan stared in confusion for a moment before leaning over to watch as Eddie scrolled through his contacts, stopping at a certain redhead’s name.

Beverly Marsh was on yet another date. This time, though, it wasn’t the girl that canceled on her and stood her up but rather a guy who reminded her too much of Richie - a complete turn off because the Tozier boy was basically her brother. But the guy wasn’t as nearly as entertaining as Richie; rather boring and kept on going on and on about his brand new red mustang that she just has to check out later tonight. The guy was more than rich, Beverly could tell just by his clothes, and despite having Richie’s personality, it was masked by a snobbish attitude and boasting about how much money he had at such a young age.

She honestly hoped that Richie would never become a snob. His fame was increasing, after all, and with fame came lots of money.

The twenty one year old took a sip of the wine that her date ordered for them both at the beginning, and glanced around the fancy restaurant. She had used the money she had acquired from being a YouTuber to buy a fancy, expensive dress. Still, though, she felt out of place. Maybe it was because her hair wasn’t as long as other girl’s; it was only at her shoulders right now. Maybe it was because the splotches of freckles littering her skin; all the other girls had smooth, unmarked skin. Maybe it was because she simply didn’t belong in such a fancy place.

Suddenly, a sharp ringing started in her purse and Beverly set her wine glass down and grabbed her purse. She cursed under her breath at forgetting to turn the sound off at the beginning of the date, and grabbed it and pressed a button to turn the sound off. Beverly frowned at seeing Eddie Kaspbrak’s name across the screen. She glanced up at her date.

“So sorry, I usually turn my phone off, but my mother is in the hospital and I need to take this,” Beverly rushed out her on the spot lie.

The man looked sympathetic. He said, “Oh, no, go and answer it, Beverly. I understand.”

Beverly gave a thankful smile before standing up and grabbed her purse and phone as she got up. “I’ll just be in the bathroom,” she said before clicking on the answer button. She waited until she was far enough away to answer, “Hi, Eddie, what’s up?”

“Beverly, thank God, we thought you wouldn’t answer,” came the guy’s reply.

“Hi, Bev!” A voice she recognized as Stan Uris’ shouted.

“Hi, Stan,” she greeted and stepped into the bathroom. “Thank you for calling, by the way, you’re interrupting my boring ass date.”

“Damn, you’re welcome,” Stan said.

“Boring dates are not fun,” Eddie sighed. “Anyway, we need to ask you a question involving you’re annoying friend.”

“Is he single? Yes.”

“No! Sheesh, Bev, I don’t like him like that.”

“Did Richie ever date a guy in high school but broke up with him about a month later?” Stan asked.

Beverly raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall by one of the sinks. Her nose wrinkled some at seeing the fancy soap name on the bottle; she wasn’t able to pronounce it. But she shoved that thought away as she focused on Stan’s question. “Oddly specific,” she muttered.

“Yeah, well…” He trailed off.

“Um,” Beverly sighed and chewed on her bottom lip as she thought back to all the dating stories she has heard from Richie Tozier.

It didn’t take long for her to remember a time where they were both a bit tipsy and Richie was muttering on about how he regretted one of his break ups in high school. He never said who, or whether it was a boy or girl. It confused her, too, because he’s only told her two full stories of dating in high school. One awkward freshman girlfriend, and one senior boyfriend that dumped in right before graduation. Literally, right before everyone was seated to get their diplomas. Beverly doubted he regretted those two.

“Well, he told me once when he was tipsy that he regretted a break up in high school. I don’t know who, though, guys, sorry. I need to ask him about it, actually,” she finally said. “Why do you want to know anyway?”

Stan said, “Bill dated a guy for about a month but he’s never told us who. I was on YouTube looking at the comments on the vlog I put up of us at comic con and fans were speculating that Richie’s that guy.”

“You and Richie seem pretty close so we were wondering if he told you anything,” Eddie added.

“That’s all I know, guys, sorry. Plus I thought Rich kinda was flirting with you, Eddie.”

A gagging noise and Stan’s laughter was quickly heard, making her smile as Beverly looked at her nails. She then thought of the day they went to comic con. She did notice that Richie and Bill were oddly close, but didn’t think anything of it. Beverly narrowed her eyes at recalling that Richie brings up Bill any time he can. That he made sure to watch all of his videos and support him the best he could with living apart.

“Gross, Bev,” Eddie grumbled and made the redhead snap back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah, you like someone else with curly hair, I know,” Beverly snickered.

“What,” was Stan’s even yet shocked voice while Eddie was trying to sputter out an answer.

“Kind of not kidding, but anyway, I best be going so my date doesn’t get suspicious. I’ll question Richie about it some and see if I come up with anything, okay? Talk to you losers later!”

After getting a farewell and a good luck from both boys, Beverly hung up and used the bathroom. She washed her hands and then walked back out to finish the boring date. Beverly plastered a smile on her face as she sat back down and got ready to tell a spur of lies about her sickly mother in the hospital. Because, of course, her date just had to question her.

Ben sat at his desk in his apartment in front of his computer, going through random website platforms to get caught up on whatever the hell as going on in the world and what dramatic thing the Kardashians did now. Harry Styles’ album played on his spotify to fill up the emptiness of his small home, his black lab chewing on a bone a couple feet away. Once in a while, Ben would look over and simply watch his dog for a few seconds before having his eyes glued to the computer screen once again.

The muscular male was humming along to “Meet Me In the Hallway” as he scrolled through his slightly abandoned FaceBook page. He only got on there to like posts his family put up and share a few news about his favorite singers and bands. Other than that, Ben never got on the Book of Faces - as his grandmother had called it a few months ago. But he stopped short at seeing a title of one of the articles popping up on his feed.

SEVEN HOOLIGANS RUIN COMIC CON

Ben eyes narrowed slightly. He had a sneaking suspicion on what it was about. Still, though, he clinked the link and waited for it to load. When it was done loading, he looked at the author’s name. Penny Wise. What the hell kind of name is that, he asked himself. He just shook his head and went on reading about the ‘hooligans’ at comic con.

“There is no doubt in my mind that a good portion of the population know of YouTubers and their fame that basically none of them should have. Not many of them are good influences on the children of today’s world and that is clearly shown when seven hooligans were seen at comic con causing a scene the entire time they were there.

“The three guys of BES Vids (Bill Denbrough, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Stan Uris), famous for their obnoxious jokes, were with make up and FX artist Beverly Marsh; YouTube sensation who shouldn’t be singing in the first place, Mike Hanlon; historically inaccurate Ben Hanscom-.”

“Rude,” Ben muttered, “And I’m very accurate, asshole, and my best friend is amazing at singing.”

“-and last but not least, the lead singer of The Records, Richie Tozier, who is the most terrible influence of them all.

“These seven 20 to 21 year olds constantly made ruckus at comic con. Some by-standers claim they had snuck in alcohol to the convention, and were drunk. Not only that, but they had a child with them, obviously someone’s little brother. They had even lost the kid at one point. Seven adults lost a child. How does that happen?–.”

Ben groaned and stopped reading there, only skimming the rest of the article and catching other false and ridiculous claims. The guy said that they had been asked to leave at one point and they all refused; it was bullshit. People actually encouraged their weird antics. They were never drunk. They found Georgie less than a minute later after they had lost the kid. Multiple fans came up and asked for pictures.

Then the guy called Beverly a slut for being with all boys and claimed that Richie was extremely high, too, and that he made out with a few fans. Plus even more fake truths. The article was complete bullshit. But by the number of shares and comments, a lot of people actually believed the bullshit. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and quickly sent the link to Mike on FaceBook messenger. The response wasn’t too quick, maybe five minutes later.

Mike Hanlon: WHAT THE FUCK, THAT’S ALL BULLSHIT

Ben Hanscom: Exactly why I shared it. The others need to know this is out there; it’s getting more popular by the minute, Mike.

Mike Hanlon: Making a gc with their numbers + ours. Maybe our hang out will come sooner than we thought. We need to talk about this together.

Ben Hanscom: Damn I know. Fuck this shit, man

Mike Hanlon: YEAH YOU ARE VERY HISTORICALLY ACCURATE IN YOUR VIDEOS, FUCK THIS MAN, FUCK ANY ONE WHO AGREES WITH HIM, I’M P I S S E D NO ONE TALKS ABOUT MY BFF LIKE THAT

Ben Hanscom: Mike I love you but send the link to the others already so we can all yell about this together.

Mike Hanlon: Right, yeah, on it.

TAG LIST: @cupcakeatl @howellhxlic @anniewdoodles @kitaruhakiashi @thesubtextmachine @magickandmoons @allison0609

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winterinpanem · 7 years ago

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Not Your Mama's Hallmark Christmas part 1/3

The air is thick with affection and laughter. Snow lightly falls, twinkling and tumbling outside the window, echoing the light-hearted mood inside.

Madge and Gale’s upscale apartment looks like West Elm meets Martha Stewart's holiday catalog. Spread after spread of delicious and appropriately holiday themed hors d'oeuvre and snacks are on every surface. Wine and seasonal cocktails have been flowing.

“Hey! I don't judge you with your choices in men!” Peeta’s tone is serious, but his expression says otherwise. He’s already 3 spiked eggnogs in, following tradition.

Finnick, Annie, and Thresh’s new girlfriend, Rue, are laughing around the table as I tease Peeta about his newest ex-girlfriend.

“I'm just saying, with a name like Glimmer? I mean, do shiny objects keep her occupied?” I ask Peeta.

He winces, but smiles.

“Is she confessing personal problems with that nickname?” I smirk, as the whole table erupts in laughter.

Gale and Madge are also pulled out of their own little world leaning near the wet bar.

Tresh joins us from the kitchen, shaking his head, amused at our usual banter. Thresh hands his girlfriend Rue another eggnog, placing a platter of food in front of us. Always playing host.

Peeta bites his lip to repress his laughter. Ugh, I love and hate when he does that.

He looks in my eyes and jabs back at me.

“Oh, you're one to talk. A nickname like Marvel didn't give you any clue that you had found your very own Sheldon Cooper?” Peeta's blue eyes twinkle with amusement.

I scowl, but my eyes reveal the laughter I'm stifling. “Who doesn't like the Marvel movies? I should have known that meant he would be SO into comic books!” I snap back with equal amusement. “And Cosplay.”

We all chuckle, there's nothing wrong with cosplay, it's just not my scene at all. A hilariously poor match.

Peeta looks over at Johanna.

“Jo, what was that hipster guy's name you dated, the one who never showered? Bright?”

Jo scowls, but her eyes prove she's just as amused as we are. “Hey, don't bash a hipster! You’re looking at one.” She winks and continues. “BLIGHT was his name!”

“I hated that guy!” Thresh adds.

If our own 6’6” gigantic teddy bear didn’t even like the guy, that's saying something.

Johanna sighs. “He was a disaster! I appreciate a man who has an aversion to anything mainstream, but he used it as a reason to have zero responsibility for anything. Blight, I'm positive he made that name up! Rhymes with flight. That should have been my first clue.”

She goes on to tells about the time he asked a librarian if they had showers in their bathroom. That’s how Jo promptly left Blight, stranded at the library.

Chatter continues throughout the room.

Johanna leans her body towards Peeta and pokes his side. “Weelllll, Peeta-bread, what are you going to do for your mom's insane Christmas bash for all the rich snobs without Sparkle for the holidays?” Johanna pries, emphasis on the ridiculous name.

Peeta makes a low growl noise in his throat and shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair.

“That's why you started dating Glitter in the first place, right? To get your mean ol’ mommy Mellark off your back?” She's teasing, but some concern is evident in her expression. She cares. Prickly, sarcastic Johanna Mason has always had a soft spot for the people she loves.

Every one of us knows just how awful Peeta’s mother can be.

Last year easily takes the cake as being the height of humiliation. Peeta brought up the topic of marriage to his heiress and mother-approved girlfriend of 4 years. Her rejection lead to their break up, and left him a broken man.

Right before a prominent holiday season.

Peeta's mother was awful to him the entire visit for Christmas.

Peeta is determined to avoid a repeat.

All of us stayed nearby our college town, hours from our hometowns, for similar broken or dysfunctional family reasons.

Staying together also means having the second family we've found in our friends.

We all went to Panem State together at various points of arrival. Gale, Peeta, and Finnick had been in their 3rd year when Madge and I started.

Thresh and I were fast friends our freshman year and started regular pizza and movie nights with Madge and Gale, our pseudo family slowly fell into place.

Johanna was, and still is, my roommate who I met through Peeta and Finnick.

Sweet Rue, Thresh’s girlfriend, became an easy addition in the last year.

Peeta doesn't answer Johanna’s question. The conversation steers to memorable Christmas parties and ugly sweaters.

Jo smirks at me. “Remember that time--,”

“Oh I remember! Johanna tricked me into wearing the ugliest sweater at a party that WASN'T an ugly sweater party. I thought I was going to win!” I grit my teeth and scowl at the memory.

“Three years in a row!” Johanna adds, to my humiliation.

I growl.

I'm met with amused smiles and laughter.

Finnick delves into a ridiculous story about a friend who was wearing Christmas lights in his ugly sweater and nearly landed him a Darwin Award by electrocution.

Finnick heroically kicked him in the chest to unplug the lights, but in doing so, he embedded broken bulbs in the guy's chest.

That party ended with a trip to the ER treating the friend’s electrocution and stitches.

The details he adds, no one could make up.

Finnick's knack for acquiring stories is phenomenal. We're all in stitches, laughing until our sides hurt.

“Well, Peet, if you have to go to the party alone, at least Annie and I will be there to take some of the pressure off,” Finnick says to his best friend as Annie hands him his coat.

Annie’s parents are old friends of the Mellarks, so she's been to their parties since childhood and is well acquainted with how important appearances are, and the pressure Mrs. Mellark puts on her youngest son.

Behind them is Rue, also carrying 2 coats.

Thresh lifts me into his arms in his signature crushing hug.

Rue giggles as I make a show of gasping for air.

The couples continue to exchange their goodbyes, and ‘Merry Christmases’ handing each of us a present and head out of Madge and Gale’s apartment.

I watch the couples head to the stairs, hand in hand.

Rue’s warm brown eyes rarely leave Thresh’s face. She smiles softly as he talks to her with such affection. The look in his eyes says Rue is everything.

I know my friend. He's in love.

Annie and Finnick are more playful.

Annie blushes as Finnick whispers in her ear then kisses her cheek. She's pushes him away. Bumps his shoulder a little while their fingers remain entwined. Annie's giggle is infectious and echoes through the stairwell. Again, it's the look Finnick has in his eyes that melts my Grinchly heart. Annie holds his heart for eternity.

Then, it hits me.

Maybe I do want that some day?

I've never admitted it to myself.

Everyone knows I have scoffed at love and marriage, probably since the very first boy that caught my eye when I was 16.

But people change.

I shrug my shoulders and shut the apartment door, and those thoughts.

Jo has clearly had too many drinks at this point, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I would definitely help you out if I wasn't set on getting my ass to the beach. I just can't stand family gatherings. And, as fun as it would be to piss your mom off, I think you're hoping for someone to take away the attention rather than direct more to you, amiright??” she pauses and shoves Peeta. “I TOLD YOU, ask her!” Johanna whisper-yells in her drunken state.

Peeta's face is red.

I'm pretty sure at one point Jo skipped the eggnog and has been downing the hard stuff straight.

Wouldn't be the first time.

I purse my lips and try to think of who ‘her' she’s referring to.

I've also never understood why his parents make this party such a big deal, but my own parents were very casual about gatherings.

When I had parents anyway.

Peeta has stressed about this Christmas party every year, but it was after he graduated that he made a point to always bring a girl.

For his mother's sake.

Peeta looks sheepish, sighs and rubs the back of his neck. Then he turns to me.

Wait, me?

Oh. no.

I've seen this hallmark movie.

Okay, calm down, it's just Peeta. Still, I start shaking my head.

Madge gives me this mad-scientist look, raises her eyebrows and I can see her wheels turning now.

She's gone into planner-mode.

I know Madge is feeling guilty she can't be there for her cousin Peeta.

Madge typically attends her Aunt and Uncle’s annual holiday party in Merchant. Had she not organized a charity event for childhood cancer that same weekend she would be.

It's hard to keep up with her event planning, and it's busiest around the holidays and wedding season.

Also, being a senator's daughter has expectations of it's own. There are other obligations that she needs to attend.

I would hate to have to deal with the expectations and pressure Madge has, which she handles with such grace.

I imagine when Gale does finally pop the question with that ring burning a hole in his pocket the event itself is going to be insane, and the planning will be flawless.

Madge is very good at what she does.

I dart back and grab another drink while Madge joins Jo and Peeta to conspire.

I groan.

“So Gale, do you have any interesting plans coming up?” I elbow my best friend playfully.

I have been teasing him for months about asking Madge that daunting, er, I mean magical question.

I helped Gale pick out the near-colorless solitaire in a rose-gold setting, and I learned more than I ever wanted to about engagement rings that day.

Diamonds haunted the back of my eyelids for days.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Gale teases back, but can't keep the gigantic grin off his face.

“Well I better be the first one to hear it!” I say with a wink.

Gale rolls his eyes, laughs, but nods.

We know I will.

It's actually contagious, to see my best friend so in love, I'm almost giddy with him.

Weird.

So maybe I'm not so allergic to happy endings either.

“Katniss!! We need your help!” Madge says in a sing-songy voice.

I grimace, let out a deep sigh and give Gale a pleading look.

He just shrugs.

Great. No allies here.

And so begins my acting career as Peeta Mellark’s girlfriend for the Holidays with his family.

Madge starts jotting down notes. She lists a hair salon, a wax center, a list of clothing, make up, shoes. Asking Peeta which family members will be in town for the week. Other tentative events --all of which made my childhood Christmases as a poor girl from the wrong side of town sound so meagre.

I'm already a fish out of water.

“I don't, I don't even know how--,” I stammer.

Madge interrupts,“Oh, nonsense! I'll teach you everything, we have time to prepare. Just be yourself, Katniss. You've always had a calming effect on Peeta. He needs you and I can't be there. Everything will be fine, Katniss!”

Jo is finding all of this amusing. “Hey, don't be brainless! You get to pretend to be a different version of yourself. Haven't you ever wondered what it would have been like to have more growing up? I have! This could be fun!” Johanna is surprisingly convincing for how drunk she is.

I have to admit, all the things Madge is talking about would be an experience, and I'm not alone. I'll be with our friend Peeta the whole time.

Now I'm looking at Madge, then Peeta, and back.

“Can we establish a safe word? When it's too much and I need an escape? I could say ‘do you want to build a snowman?’ Instead of making a run for it.” I try to make light of it but I'm a known flight risk. We all understand this.

“Absolutely, I can help you with an escape to a quiet place, just say so.” Peeta reassures me.

I hesitate and fiddle with my hands.

“All the Mellark baked goods will be on tap the whole week,” he adds.

I look sceptical. “If we're doing this, we're going to make it fun. Promise?” I add.

“I promise!” Peeta replies.

“Also, you're so lucky Prim is off the grid, helping with medical needs from the hurricanes!” I tease. He knows I would never pick this over a Christmas with my sister.

I'm also keeping his little crisis in perspective, this isn't a real crisis at all.

“Fine. I'll do it,” I say with a huff.

Johanna and Madge cheer.

Gale is laughing at my predicament.

“You're the best, Everdeen!” Peeta wraps me up in a tight full body hug.

I stiffen a little but don't pull away.

I'm just not much for hugging, but I've tried to get used to Peeta’s, Thresh's and, well, probably half our friends touchy, affectionate tendencies.Especially after the alcohol is flowing.

It surprises me that of all our friends, it’s actually Peeta and Annie whose touchy tendencies turn from affection to questionable around me after a few drinks.

Peeta keeps his body flush to mine and this hug is turning not so innocent.

I shove him back playfully. I have stories.

“Easy tiger! That reminds me. Let's work through some rules? I think for all intents and purposes we should appear to be dating exclusively, just out of respect for each other. Try to keep excessive flirting with the ladies to a minimum?” I ask of Peeta.

“Noted. Only flirt with you.” Peeta grins widely and emphasizes you with his finger to my nose.

I roll my eyes.

“What about you, Peeta? Ground rules for your lovely girlfriend?” I ask with a sarcastic tone, batting my eyes in mock flirtation.

Jo smirks.

Madge is busy in thought.

Gale is cleaning up.

“Oh um, yeah, don't jingle anyone else's Christmas bells?” He grins.

I glare at him.

He laughs. “The only sleigh you should be riding is--,”

“PEETA!” I interrupt, trying to scowl, but my amusement shows.

Jo gives him a high five.

“Okay, OKAY! Umm, I'm going to be myself, so I'm going to be affectionate in front of people,” Peeta says while my eyes go wide, he's not suggesting... “No! Nothing crazy. I just mean hand holding, arm around your shoulder, light touching. The kind a grandma would approve of. Try not to resist me,” he says with a wink.

Then he demonstrates by putting an arm around me.

Did it just get a little warmer in here? I shrug my shoulders up a little. Then I remind myself not to resist.

Madge and Jo laugh at me while I struggle.

Peeta has his Casanova smile, then he leans in.

I start to breath heavier when his hot breath tickles my neck.

“Remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me anytime you feel like it,” he whispers.

My cheeks go red and I shove him away as Madge and Jo hoot and holler.

I shake my head and laugh with them.

I grab some ice out of my water cup and smear it all over Peeta’s face.

“Cool it there, Don Lothario! Not everyone is comfortable with such blatant forwardness!” I say grinning. I know I've won this round.

“Back to their antics!” Johanna mumbles.

Jo and Madge start whispering.

Nope, I'm not going to stick around for the teasing that will follow.

“Hey I'm going to get going. Jo, do you need a ride to our apartment? Peeta you're staying here?” I ask the two who don't live in this upscale apartment.

“I'm good,” Peeta says with a nod, raising another drink in his hand, meaning he's staying here.

Jo grabs her coat as I say my goodbyes and hand out my remaining few Christmas gifts to our friends.

It's so nice to have Christmas here every year.

Jo and I are adult orphans, so this is our family Christmas. Or was.

Now I'm joining Peeta’s family.

The lights and sounds of the impending Christmas week are evident as we make our way through downtown. The obnoxious bright lights that glimmer in the night linger and burn as I drive.

The snow falling lightly reminds me that I long for the woods, and the sight of a star or two would be a welcome sight. I keep my eyes on the road.

The slush sounds that accompany driving in these conditions are drowned by the warm buzz of contentment our friends bring when we are all together.

Well, Johanna is still buzzed from spiked eggnog.

As we drive back to our apartment, Johanna talks about her upcoming trip to the coast.

“I'm hoping I can score a fling for the week like you did when you visited Abernathy’s that one summer. How did you snag him by the way?”

Ugh. I don't want to say. It further confirms, to my friend's amusement, my poor judgement in choices of companionship.

I met him through my uncle's step-son, who lead with his own line. “Hey did you know it's legal to marry your cousin here?”

YUCK! That should have been a clue that his friend would also turn out to be a weirdo.

The beach was amazing with a strong handsome man who was so into me. It was a wild trist.

By the end of the week, I learned enough about him to be happy to leave it there.

Southern gentleman my ass. He started bragging about fights he'd been in.

No thank you.

The tipping point was when he started a story with: “Look, I'm not racist, but…” then continued with a racist comment.

Nope. You. are. DISMISSED.

“Oh I met that guy through Effie’s nephew,” I reply, but I'm still disgusted thinking about him.

My roommate gives me a thoughtful look. “You know, Brainless, you could have your own little something at casa de Mellark?” she says with mischief in her eyes.

I scowl.

“Oh come on, you seriously can't tell me you're not at all attracted to Peeta Mellark? That your ‘antics' couldn't lead to more? You never thought about hitting that? Probably any woman who has even met him has…” Jo insists incredulous of my scowl.

“FINE! Of course, I have! When we were younger, he would meet us at Madge’s pool parties. He was older and dreamy. The hair, the body, the eyes? Yes all of it. For a shy, hormonal teenage girl to get his attention, even for a minute was...ahh!” I have to catch my breath at the memory.

“But I knew he was out of my league. Then, you know, at college it was easy to live in the friend zone. Besides, he dates girls from old money, like Cashmere De Young, and I'm--,” I confess, gesturing to myself.

Johanna interrupts. “Incredible? Genuine? Real? Radiant with no make up? Smart? Funny? Loyal? I could go on…”

I'm surprised at my usually sarcastic friend's words of affirmation. It takes me a minute to take it in. “Hmm.”

“He's not out of your league. He never was. You have to believe that! You are unique, not some cookie-cutter bimbo dripping with daddy's money. Don't for one second think a girl like that has anything on you!” Jo insists.

Wow.

I'm not really sure what Johanna was trying to achieve by this pep talk, but I'm a little choked-up!

I just nod.

Barely a whisper, but I manage to say, “Thank you, Jo.”

She just smiles in reply. Then waves off my comment implying ‘it was nothing.’

That night I revisit memories I have long buried. It's all Jo’s fault.

“Madge! You did not tell me there were going to be so many hot guys here!” I scowl at my closest girl friend as I fiddle nervously with the green bikini she convinced me to wear. I'm not really a bikini kind of girl.

“Relax Katniss! Don't even start. You hang out with the hotness that is Gale Hawthorne all the time. Besides, you know all these guys from school.” She gestures toward the guys at the refreshment table. I do recognize each of them.

“And those,” Madge gestures to the hottest guy I've ever seen standing with a few other swimsuit clad high schoolers near the diving board. “--are my cousin and his friends.”

Madge says and gives me a knowing smile as she watches my jaw drop.

“Th-th-THAT is the cousin that used to tease us and chase us? The one who used to bring treats from his parent's bakery?!”

Madge nods, trying to hold in a laugh.

This time my eyes rove over the muscular, tall blond, I take in his chiseled chest, muscular arms…

As he dives into the pool I get a glimpse of his backside and it is ridiculous.

Madge is laughing at me.

“Katniss, I've never seen you like this! It took 16 years for a boy turn your head and it's my cousin of all people?!” Madge laughs incredulously.

I bite my lip, but keep my eyes on the water.

“Katniss has a crush!” Madge mocks. I was indeed the very definition of a late bloomer.

“I do not!” I argued, but she was right.

Peeta was a senior, and boy did he have the swagger of the wrestling champion that he was. Yet, his kindness, and steady protective nature remained the same as the boy I would see a few times a year.

Peeta had a way of making sure I was always included as kids.

He would patiently explain the rules to a new game and always seemed to be my ally in anything competitive.

He wasn't around as much in the high school years, so that day at Madge's pool party, I was looking at a whole new Peeta.

When he came up from under the water, Peeta whipped his head to the side, swiping his wet mop of hair out of his eyes.

Jeez, right out GQ magazine.

I know I'm staring.

Then he caught my gaze and smiled at me. A blinding smile that made my teenage heart beat faster.

I replied with a shy smile, and looked down.

Madge shot me a knowing smirk and shook her head with a laugh.

Wet arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

I barely had time to squeak before a dripping wet Peeta pulled me away and jumped into the pool dragging me with him.

I couldn't even be mad, the pool felt so good on such a hot day. I didn't mind his strong arms around me either.

We were both laughing as we reached the surface.

That set the tone for the day.

As we would mingle with our other friends and swim, Peeta and I would lock eyes. Gravitating back to each other.

Our interactions seemed to be flirty and playful. It became an unspoken agreement that when we were in the pool, where no one could see, hands could explore.

The first few times Peeta's hand brushed my thighs or hips in the deep end I didn't think anything of it, but the third time it lingered, I caught on.

He searched my face for a reaction, which I answered with a smile. I liked his attention.

The heat between us grew.

That summer Peeta seemed to show up at Madge's house almost every time we were in the pool.

The attraction between us was undeniable, but our secret.

As a shy girl who shut down every previous guy's advances I was in over my head.

I refused to think about a future with Peeta. After all, he was leaving for college hours away at the end of the summer. However, I would be lying if I said I didn't let this crush invade my thoughts all summer.

We had our own “antics,” (Jo would call them present day) and ongoing inside jokes, just like when we were kids.

It had become our mission to get everyone wet who refused to go in the pool at least once.

Between planned sneak-attacks and belly flops, Peeta and I were undefeated in our mission.

By the end of the summer, Peeta bought super-soakers for each of us. We snuck around the side of Madge's house, ready to ambush a particularly manicured group of girls, when he pinned me to the house.

“I've never met a girl like you, Everdeen,” he said, breathlessly. Then Peeta leaned in...

I never told Madge, but it was Peeta who was my first kiss. Pinned up on the side of her house, 18 year old Peeta Mellark left me breathless and dizzy in a mind blowing kiss.

I rationalized that it was probably that amazing because it was my first kiss, but I've always wondered why no kiss since then has ever come close.

Must have been the heat.

Also, the words super-soaker now have a double meaning I can never forget.

I lie awake frustrated. “Maybe going with Peeta isn't such a good idea?” I wonder to myself.

11 notes · View notes

victimofthemusic · 7 years ago

Text

I Want To Save You--Spider-Man: Homecoming Imagine

Hi guys! It’s been a really long time since I’ve been active on here, my life is crazy and I haven’t really had the urge to write anything. However, I’m back with this little number and I’m so happy with it. I absolutely adore this movie and Tom Holland and I’ve wanted to write something for this universe for a while and I finally got the inspiration to do so last night. I’ve seen this movie three times already and I love it more and more each time I see. A disclaimer, I have nothing against Zendaya as Michelle, I just didn’t particularly like her character and I’m not sure if it was the way she was portrayed, but I’m hoping they give her more character development in the next one. If you guys have any suggestions, please feel free to leave me a message! (:

~~~~~~~~

“Peter, it literally says right here, insert part A into—“

“—okay and I’m telling you, Y/N, that it doesn’t look right—“

Batting the instructions you were waving in front of his face away with a frustrated scowl, Peter snatched the halfway completed section of the Lego Death Star you were building, a piece that you spent almost a half hour carefully piecing together in order to ensure that you were putting it together correctly. However, Peter’s grip wasn’t all that delicate and the section snapped into the thirty tiny pieces it started as, bringing you right back to square one.

“Way to go, Parker,” You huffed, annoyed, picking up the pieces and beginning to reassemble them, again, but not before shooting him a disgruntled look.

Peter at least had the decency to look sheepish, his brown eyes wide and apologetic. You sighed, rolling your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the corners of your lips from twitching into a small smile, your annoyance with him immediately melting away.

However, you weren’t gonna tell him that

It only took you a few minutes to assemble all thirty pieces, before you handed it back to Peter, who handled it with a bit more care than the last time. You watched as he attempted to place it where he thought it should go, despite the carefully detailed instructions that were now crumpled up and tossed into the corner of his messy room. The tip of his tongue peeked out from the corner of his lips in concentration, his furrowed brows quickly melting back into frustration scowl when when it still wouldn’t fit.

You sighed, “Peter, they gave us instructions for a reason, not for them to be balled up and tossed aside like an old candy bar wrapper. If it belonged there, it would fit and you wouldn’t have to—“

He cut you off with a shout of victory as the small section snapped onto the not even half way finished Death Star with a small click and Peter shot you a smug grin.

You simply rolled your eyes, “Of course, only Peter Parker could correct a toy company that has been around for decades and has been selling this particular set for years—“

Peter laughed, “Oh c’mon, Y/N, when you’ve been building these things as long as Ned and I have, you learn that the instructions are merely suggestions and should be treated as such.”

“You say that like it’s something to brag about,” You teased, “seriously how many times have you guys built this thing?”

Now it was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes, “Oh please, Y/N, this isn’t just a Lego Death Star,” he said with a level of seriousness that was both sad and adorable, “it’s the Limited Edition Lego Death Star set that comes with Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker and two different sets of Light Sabers—“

His voice had become more animated the more he spoke, his excitement on the subject turning his normal talking speed into more of his familiar rambling quality he got when he was passionate about something. His eyes were almost shining from the amount of enthusiasm and passion he had about this half way built contraption and all of this just from legos.

As usual, you found his level of dorkiness cute and one of the many things you loved about Peter. He was completely and wholeheartedly himself, from his closet filled with varying amounts of t-shirts with math and science puns on them, to his Star Wars posters in his room and in his locker at school and his love for comic books and graphic novels and school and random knowledge that he absorbed like a sponge. He never hid his interests from the outside world and he never pretended to be someone he wasn’t simply to fit in. He was brave and pure and just so inconceivably and inherently good, in a way that you wished you could be.

The blank look on your face must’ve put a damper on his enthusiasm, because he simply sighed, like he couldn’t understand why he was still friends with you.

You gave him an apologetic smile and he rolled his eyes again, “I knew I should’ve asked Michelle to do this with me, she at least understands what I’m talking about.”

It was meant to be teasing, but his words stung in a way that you knew he didn’t mean for them to. While, admittedly, the amount time you knew Peter paled in comparison to that of Michelle and Ned, you still thought that you were closer to Peter than Michelle was. You had nothing against her, at all, you liked Michelle. She was witty with her dry humor and wicked smart and seemed to always know when someone needed something, with that observant way of hers. She saw people, almost to the point of it being uncomfortable if you weren’t used to it and she had a quiet passion about things, from politics to books.

But Michelle kept people at a guarded distance and sometimes, you didn’t like the way she treated Peter and Ned. Some of her jokes you thought came off a bit harsh and unnecessary and while they seemed not to faze Peter or Ned, they did bother you.

Maybe you didn’t understand their relationship and maybe it was because you liked Peter and you knew, deep down, you weren’t good enough for him the way Michelle was. For all of her rough edges and scathing remarks, she was just as smart as Peter, her GPA almost neck and neck with his. She had the same interests and while they had a relationship that you didn’t exactly understand, you could see why they would fit together, opposites attract and all that.

And you? Well, the only reason you got into Mid-Town was because your father wasTony Stark, billionaire, genius, Iron Man and a founding member of the Avengers. You learned from a young age that people only ever cared about your last name and who your father was and while you weren’t by any means stupid, you weren’t the science prodigy your father was. And if it wasn’t for Peter, your B in Chemistry and Physics would be nonexistent. He tutored you almost every day after school in either the library at school or his cramped kitchen table in his equally cramped apartment in Queens.

You’d never asked him to come over to the Tower in your years of friendship, not out of embarrassment or lack of trust in him, but because you were embarrassed by the wealth that oozed from the place. You never wanted Peter to see you as some rich snob who lived off of her father’s seemingly endless fortune and status. You loved your father more than anyone on the planet, but the amount of gifts he showered you with were borderline ridiculous and you never wanted Peter to see that side of your life. Peter’s aunt worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table after uncle Ben died. Peter struggled for everything and you wanted for nothing.

“Oh,” you mumbled, “I see.”

Peter’s eyes widened in horror, guilt flooding his dark irises and he groaned in embarrassment, “Oh god, Y/N, I didn’t meant it like that,” he rushed to explain, “I just meant that you’re not interested in this stuff and that’s completely cool, you know and Michelle really isn’t either, but she just gets it, not that makes her better or anything—“

“It’s okay, Peter, I get it,” you said with a strained smile, not meeting his eyes and instead, you gathered your things and made to get up from the hardwood floor, your back giving a twinge of discomfort from sitting for so long, but it was overshadowed by the amount of hurt that was squeezing your heart in a vice like grip.

“Wait, Y/N, don’t go—“ Peter said, hurrying to get up, his hand reaching out to grab your elbow but you pulled away, shrugging your backpack on to your shoulders.

“It’s late, Peter,” you said softly, glancing down at your StarkWatch—the first of it’s kind and not even available on the market yet—and to your utter humiliation, you couldn’t even read the numbers from the tears blurring your vision, “my dad’s probably wondering where I am.”

“It’s only eight and besides, your dad’s in Sokovia for the meeting about the Acco—“ Peter protested, following you out of his room and into the small kitchen.

He stopped short when you spared him a glance over your shoulder, your hand reaching blindly for the door knob, blinking through your tears in order to see him clearly and you gave him small smile, but by the look of complete guilt on his face, it came out as more of a grimace.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” You said, completely disregarding his previous statement, trying for a light tone but it came out flat and before your tears could fall, you opened the door and ran down the hallway.

“Y/N, wait—“

You ignored his voice carrying down the hallway and just ran, not even bothering with the elevator and taking the stairs instead, which, probably wasn’t the greatest idea you’ve ever had, considering your tears were coming in full force now and you could barely see an inch in front of your face let alone to be able to see wether or not your feet were even landing on the stairs.

You made it somehow without tripping and breaking your neck and you burst through the apartment doors and out into the quiet streets of Queens. You ran until you couldn’t see Peter’s apartment building anymore and you slowed your pace to a walk, the chilly December air making you wish you remembered your jacket.

You weren’t sure how long you walked for or even where you were going. you contemplated calling Happy to come get you, but when you looked up, you didn’t even recognize where you were. A inkling of anxiety began to settle into your stomach, but you ignored it, trying to keep calm. Patting your pockets, you tried to find your phone, so you could GPS your way to someplace familiar and more open, but you were coming up empty.

Forcing down the anxiety that was beginning to feel more like panic, you reached around and unzipped your backpack, digging around inside of it, hoping that maybe you had put it in there in your haste to get out of Peter’s apartment. A chill ran down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold New York air and you felt a prickling sensation make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your fingers brushed against something smooth and familiar, but before you could figure out what it was, you saw a flash out of the corner of your eye and then a hand settled on your shoulder, making you jump, your backpack falling out of your grip.

“Well what do we have here?” A gruff voice whispered menacingly, spinning you around and slamming you up against a nearby alley wall.

You winced when your head bounced off of the frozen brick wall, a small whimper leaving your suddenly dry lips.

It was a man, looking to be in about his late thirties, early forties, wearing a ratty old sweatshirt and jeans with holes in the knees. His dark hair was covered by a black beanie, his pale face red from the cold, his eyes a glacier blue and they were frigid cold as they looked you up and down suggestively. He was tall and well muscled and panic rose in your stomach when his grip on your shoulders tightened.

“What’s baby Stark doing in this part of town?” He asked rhetorically, his breath reeking of stale alcohol and cigarettes.

He ran chilled fingers down your cheek in a twisted caress, “What’s with tears sweetheart?” he cooed and you jerked your head away with a grunt, glaring at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Get off of me.” You said through clenched teeth.

He chuckled, “Oh, you’re a feisty one,” he crooned as you struggled against his hold, his voice sickeningly sweet and bile rose in your throat when his hand traveled down to the hollow your throat, where he squeezed.

“What are you gonna do sweetheart? Scream for your daddy?” He grinned maliciously, “go right a head, he’ll never hear you all the way in Sokovia.”

With a growl, you raised your knee in a move Natasha had taught you in her many training sessions and you knew you connected when your attacker let out a grunt of pain. His grip slackened from around your throat and you used that to your advantage, shoving out of his hold and trying to run, but you didn’t get very far. You had spared a look over your shoulder, to see your attacker clutching between his legs with a face twisted in a mixture of rage and pain.

“You little bitch!” he snapped and you couldn’t help but grin in triumph.

Your victory, however, was cut short when you collided with a solid chest, hands wrapping around your forearms as if to steady you. You gasped, an apology on your lips but when you looked into dark eyes glinting with same amount of malice as the man currently writhing on the ground, that’s when all the previous pride left your body and panic settled like lead into your stomach, your blood running cold.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” the man, shorter than the other one, but equally as built, if not more so, said with a cackle, “we’re just getting started with you.”

A scream built up in your throat and you tried to run around him, but he caught you around the waist and picked you up, kicking and screaming.

He threw you to the ground and on instinct, you threw your hands out to catch your fall. Most of your weight landed on your right hand and you heard a sickening pop and your wrist flared with pain almost immediately and you collapsed against the dirty alley floor with a grunt of pain. Your head swam when it collided, once again, with something hard and frozen and when you tried to sit up, your vision blurred in front of you, the man standing in front you became four and the man behind you, who had recovered from your blow, took advantage of your disillusioned state and grabbed you roughly by the hair, yanking you backwards.

You gripped his wrist with both hands and ignoring the flare of pain in your right hand, you yanked and twisted and with a smirk of satisfaction, you heard his wrist crunch and heard him curse loudly, letting go of you immediately.

Your head felt heavy and you had to blink several times and by the time you’d gathered yourself, the other guy was standing over you and once again grabbing you by the throat, shoving you back onto the ground, settling his weight on top of you, his knees trapping your legs down, pinning you and you were unable to break free.

You wiggled, trying desperately to break out of his hold and his hold lessened enough for you to twist your neck and sink your teeth into the meat of his hand.

He pulled back with a yelp, his eyes blazing with fury. Before you had time to react, his hand came back and pain exploded in a multitude of colors around your left eye, the sting of the slap made worse from the cold and the sound echoed around the empty alley.

A desperate cry broke free of your lips and tears welled, the fear spreading like a viscous poison in your veins and you wished more for anything to be back in Peter’s warm apartment, building the stupid Death Star with Alt J playing in the background, all the hurt and jealousy forgotten as you bantered playfully with your best friend.

“Maybe that’ll teach you to behave,” the man said harshly, panting heavily and you heard the clink of a belt buckle and suddenly time slowed down. You jerked and wiggled and struggled, trying hopelessly to escape his harsh hold.

You screamed out in fear and desperation and you were rewarded with another slap for your efforts.

“Shut her up, dumbass, she’s gonna wake the whole neighborhood.” The other guy demanded harshly.

“I’m trying, but maybe if you’d help me—“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence.

A blur of red and blue came flying from the building on the right, knocking him into the brick wall harshly, his head making a grotesque crack against the frozen brick.

“Now, is this any way to treat a lady, fellas?” Spider-Man asked lightly, but you could hear the barely concealed anger. He grabbed the guy up by his throat, throwing him into his buddy, who was trying to make a run for it. They spilled over each other like an odd form of bowling pins and you watched as they both stood up and raised their fists up defensively.

“Two against one? Now how is that fair?” Spider-Man goaded as the taller of the two charged and swung, Spider-Man dodging it easily and you watched, with blurry vision as Spider-Man ducked and dived and dodged their weak attempts at fighting.

Your vision swam and the left side of your face throbbed in a dull ache in time with your wrist. You feel yourself slipping, a fog rolled over your senses and suddenly, you felt the fatigue settle into your bones as the adrenalin and the panic left your body.

The red and blue blur webbed the two men up and you heard him murmuring into his phone and a giggle fell from your lips when you realized that Spider-Man carried a cellphone. You wondered if he called it a Spidey-phone, if it had web access—

Spider-Man suddenly appeared in your line of vision, hovering over you and despite the mask, you could feel the panic and concern rolling off of him in waves. His sudden appearance startled you, fear rising once again like bile in your throat.

He moved back, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, “Whoa, hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” His voice was soft and warm and filled with so much concern that it made tears spring to your eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, “you’re gonna be okay, I promise. Those…creeps,” he spat the word like a curse, “will never hurt you again.”

Your vision was getting dark around the edges and you felt tired, the fight leaving your body and leaving you a shivering mess in its wake.

“Thank you,” you whispered hoarsely, your throat raw and flaming from all the screaming. You winced, raising a shaky hand to feel it, wondering if it was as swollen as it felt.

A gloved hand stopped you, gently grabbing your hand and wrapping it in his warm grip.

“Best not touch anything until medical comes, okay?” he said nervously, his thumb brushing over the back of your freezing hand.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked, your trepidation making your voice sound small and almost childlike, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your eyelids fluttered, the drowsiness becoming too much to bear.

Spider-Man’s voice was soft when he answered you, “I’ll never leave you, Y/N.”

How do you know my name?

The question was fleeting, but it lingered, even when the exhaustion became too much and the world became quiet.

~~~~~~~~

Bright light danced before your closed eyes and your eyelids felt like they had fifty pound weights strapped to them. You could hear rushing footsteps and someone was yelling, demanding to know what happened. It sounded like your father, but you weren’t sure. The sounds were muffled, like they were coming through a badly tuned radio, like the one in uncle Steve’s room that looked like it came out of the ice with him.

“—left my apartment upset and she left her phone—“

“—why was she upset? What’d you do to her Parker?!”

“—I found her in the alley with those two men they were going to—“

The voice was the same one that said they wouldn’t leave you and you saw the flash of red and blue and the smell of Tom Ford cologne your dad was fond of was overwhelming and your muddled brain pieced together that your dad was talking to Spider-Man.

“—if it wasn’t for you kid, my daughter would be dead or worse and I—thank you.”

“It’s not a problem Mr. Stark, Y/N is very important to me and I would never let anything happen to her.”

For the first time that night, you felt warm.

~~~~~~~~

The second time you woke up, the room was darker and bathed in the light of the moon. You glanced around the room and the first thing that came to your mind was white. White walls, white floors, white curtains, white sheets.

The door to the room was propped open and you could hear the voices from earlier floating in from the hallway, tones hushed and soft, something about a suit and—

A flash of red and blue

“What’d you do to her Parker?!”

You heard footsteps and your father appeared in doorway, dressed in old jeans and a ratty AC/DC T-shirt. His hair was rumpled and he looked tired, the bags underneath his eyes more pronounced than ever and when his gaze landed on you, he smiled.

“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he teased, the bed shifting when he sat down on the edge, reaching out to brush your hair out of your face, “how do you feel?”

His dark eyes were concerned, worry creeping at the edges and you felt guilt swell in your gut for putting that there.

“Tired,” you said softly, voice still hoarse, “confused, sore,” you added, “but I’m okay.”

Your dad smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You swallowed heavily, flicking your gaze down to the sheets, spotting a loose thread and your nervous fingers began to fiddle with it, “Dad, I—“

You could feel tears welling in your eyes and you choked back a sob. You didn’t even know where to begin, how to even apologize for being so reckless and so stupid.

A calloused hand settled on yours and pulled you gently into a hard chest, wrapping you into strong arms and you felt safe.

“Hey now,” your dad murmured into your hair, “it’s not your fault, kiddo. Peter told me what happened and while I agree that you could’ve handled it differently, you’re here and you’re safe and that’s what matters the most to me right now.” He whispered, brushing a kiss over the top of your head.

You squeezed your eyes shut, cuddling closer to his warm chest. He smelled like coffee and motor oil and a hint of the Tom Ford cologne, his scent comforting and familiar, grounding you and warming the chill that had settled into your veins. You knew something like this would never happen again, that your dad would do everything in his power to put those assholes in prison to never see the light of day again and the thought calmed you.

He placed another kiss to the top of your head before pulling away, smoothing your hair back from your face, cupping your cheek.

“I love you, kid,” he whispered, a serious look settling over his features, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

You gave him a small smile, “I love you, too, dad.”

He ruffled your hair, smiling genuinely for the first time since you woke up. You knew this attack had aged him and added to the growing list of concerns and stress he had going on at the moment and the guilt from earlier rose back up again.

Something flickered in the doorway and you glanced up, seeing a familiar face gazing in anxiously.

Your dad followed your gaze, and a soft chuckle fell from his lips, “It’s cool kid, you can come in and say hi, no need to hover all awkwardly in the doorway, that’s Vision’s job.”

Peter smiled, but his eyes were on you, his gaze filled with so much concern and worry that you felt the guilt rise in you even more.

Your dad flickered his gaze back and forth between the two of you before letting out a slow whistle, “Wow, you could cut the awkward tension in here with a knife.”

You leveled him with a glare and he smirked in return, “I’ll just go talk to Dr. Cho see what she has to say about your progress.”

He kissed your head, before standing and waltzing out of the room, patting Peter on the shoulder as he went. The door shut softly behind him and silence settled around you, Peter fiddling with the hem of his grey Stark Industries t-shirt, shuffling awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“How do you feel?” He asked softly, glancing up at you through his lashes and you didn’t have the heart to be mad at him anymore. It was stupid to begin with, looking back on it and it almost cost you your life.

You shrugged, wincing when even that hurt, “I’m okay, sore. Tired. Confused.”

He nodded, looking back down at the floor.

You sighed heavily, “Peter, look, I’m sorry for…storming out the way I did. It was childish and stupid and I know you were only joking about Michelle—“

“Do you know why I asked you to build the Lego Death Star with me?” he asked, cutting you off. He raised his gaze to yours and you could see a determination in those chocolate depths and you fell silent, shaking your head to answer his question.

“I asked you, because I like spending time with you,” He said quietly, voice unsure, “don’t get me wrong, I like spending time with Ned and Michelle, I do, but you’re…different,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing, “you don’t ask questions that I don’t have answers to and I know you know that something’s been off with me lately, has been since around the time uncle Ben—“ he cut himself off, voice shaking, “I—I’ve never met anyone like you before. Most people would revel in the fact that their dad is Tony Stark, billionaire and Iron Man, of all people, but you…you hide from it.”

He looked lost in thought, and it was like you weren’t even in the room anymore, “You could be the most popular girl in school and yet you chose to hang out with me and Ned, probably the most unpopular people in the entire school,” the confusion in his voice made your heart throb painfully, wishing more than anything that Peter could see himself the way you did, “I mean, c’mon, we spend our time playing with legos and watching documentaries and building tech out of stuff we get out of a dumpster,” he snorted derisively, shaking his head, “you could be homecoming queen and go to all the cool parties and—“

“Peter,” you said softly, reaching out to grab his hand, squeezing it gently between yours. He looked up at you, seemingly at a loss for words. This was the question that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t know the answer to and you couldn’t help the small laugh that escape your lips if you tried, “none of those things matter to me.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you shook your head, “I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by people who only want to get close to me because of who my father is, to use me for my dad’s money or his status or his ideas. I don’t want a fan club, I want actual friends,” you explained gently, looking down at the soft white sheets that were beyond hospital regulation and tried to ignore the threat of tears pricking behind your eyes, “my dad almost died twice because someone I thought of as family tried to gain control of his tech and his money and that’s the scary part about all of this,” you said, flicking your gaze up to his, “I never know who’s in this for me, not my name and my connections and not my dad’s money, but for me. To see me as my own person and not as the daughter of someone with more money than ten countries put together, with the power to change the world with his ideas and the ability to protect it with his Iron Man suits and what’s left of the Avengers.”

“But you,” you continued, squeezing his warm hand, “you’ve never once seen me as Tony Stark’s daughter. You’ve never questioned why I wanted to study in the library or go to your apartment and never here, at the Tower. You’re not afraid to joke with me or tease me and you’ve never once pretended to be something you’re not in order to impress me or get me to notice you,” you couldn’t help but smile, “you’re so good, Peter. You just, you care so much about everyone and everything and I’ve never met someone, besides my dad, who just wants to be there for people. You’re so smart and kind to everyone and yet you still think that somehow, people deserve better than you, when in reality, some people don’t deserve you.”

Peter’s cheeks flushed bright red and your heart warmed at the sight, “I’m not good like you and the only reason I got into Mid-Town was because of my dad and his ‘anonymous’ donation the science department,” you said with a snort, “if it wasn’t for you tutoring me, I’d be flunking chemistry and physics.”

“I’m not smart like you,” you finished, your voice wavering, “or Michelle.” you added as an afterthought, “you deserve way better than someone like me.”

Peter was silent for a long time and when you braved a look up, he was staring at you, opened mouth, his brown eyes shining in disbelief, “Y/N,” he stammered, “You’re…everything,” he breathed, “You’re so smart and kind and you care so much about the people in your life. You spent years of your life trapped in this tower in order to protect your dad from getting hurt again and you don’t ask anyone for anything. You’re determined to make something of yourself without your dad’s help and you have the power— every reason to not be nice to someone like me, to be friends with someone like me,” he gave a breathy laugh, “I’ll never understand it, but as long as you know that I’ll never take advantage of you or hurt you in a way and I’m so sorry for what I said last night,” his cheeks flushed and he gave you a sheepish smile, “besides, I like Michelle, but I like hanging out with you more.”

You laughed, “Your secret is safe with me, I promise.”

He laughed, but it faded as soon as it came and something like guilt flickered in his eyes and he let go of your hand, standing up from his spot on the bed and you furrowed your eyebrows, confused.

“Peter?” You asked softly and you were unable to hide the worry in your tone. You could hear your heart rate pick up on the monitor beside you, but you ignored, focusing on the tense set of Peter’s shoulders as he turned his back to you.

“You need to rest,” he whispered, “I should probably go.”

Fear gripped your heart at the thought of being alone, at the thought of sleeping in this huge room by yourself and you reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“W-Will you stay with me? Please?” You asked, borderline begging him not to leave.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered softly, his voice gentle and warm and something pulled at your memory. He turned around and sat back down on the bed next to you. He gripped your hand tightly, his other hand reach up and brushing the tears that had escaped your eyes off your cheek with gentle gentle fingers, “it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna leave, I’ll never leave you, Y/N.” he said fiercely, his eyes burning with his promise.

His voice was familiar, like you’d heard it before

“Will you stay with me?”

“I’ll never leave you, Y/N.”

How does he know my name?

A flash of red and blue

Your dad’s angry voice

“What’d you do to her, Parker?!”

“It was you.” You whispered, eyes wide as the dawn realization hit you like a slap to the face. And suddenly, everything made sense. His unexplained absences, the bruises, why he was tired all the time, why Spider-Man got to you so quickly, why he seemed to know your dad.

Peter was Spider-Man

Peter was silent, eyes wide with panic and guilt and you could see the million excuses in his eyes, trying to find one that would cover all the coincidence that weren’t just coincidences. He opened his mouth to explain, but no sound came out and it only confirmed every suspicion you had.

“You’re the one that saved me,” You said, disbelief coloring your tone, “you-you’re Spider-Man.”

You could see Peter wanted to deny it immediately, make up an excuse, deflect all the attention off of himself, but after a minute of stone cold silence, he finally, slowly, nodded his head.

A million things flashed through your mind, all at once and you weren’t sure what to say, what was appropriate to say at a time like this. You just found out your best friend, who you happened to be very much in love with, was a superhero and just happened to save you from god only knows what last night and well, what do you say at a time like this?

“Look, I know it’s shocking and weird, but please don’t say anything, okay? Ned knows, your dad knows and that’s it, I can’t let anyone else find out. This information could land in the wrong hands can be dangerous and—“

You weren’t sure what possessed you do it, but didn’t know how else you were supposed to say thank you and Peter’s nervous rambling was one of the cutest things about him and his lips were just there and so, you kissed him.

His lips were soft and warm and slightly chapped and frozen underneath yours.

You pulled away with an embarrassed smile, your cheeks flushing, “Peter, I—thank you.” You breathed sincere, squeezing his hand tightly, “thank you for saving me.”

He blushed, a bashful smile dancing on his pink lips, “You don’t need to thank me, Y/N,” he said humbly, “I’ll always be there to protect you.”

He squeezed your hand, a sad smile dancing on his lips, “Don’t feel like you have to, y’know, like me now or anything. I don’t expect you to return my feelings and I hope you don’t feel, like, obligated to—“

You cut him off with another kiss and this time, he returned it. His lips were hesitant and you could feel his inexperience in his movements, but you could only smile, your heart fluttering as he brushed his fingers through your hair, his hand tightening around yours as he shifted closer to you, cupping your cheek gently in his strong hand and you felt the familiar safety wash over you as you were pulled into his arms.

“Peter,” you murmured, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I liked you long before you saved my life, so don’t even start the self-sacrificing bullshit, okay?”

He smiled, his cheeks flushing, eyes bright, but there was a lurking insecurity that made your heart squeeze, “This could be dangerous, you know,” he began softly, “If anyone ever found out about me, they could use you to hurt me and I can’t do that to you—“

You understood the concern, but you couldn’t help the eye roll if you tried, ignoring the soreness in the left side of your face where you were sure you had a black eye, “My dad’s Iron Man and my god-father is War Machine, I almost feel sorry for the person that tries to do anything to me.”

He pouted, “Hey, I think I proved that more than capable of saving you, too,” but his eyes became serious, “I never want anything to happen to you and I’ll do everything I can to protect you from anything that comes your way.”

You smiled and he kissed you again, a quick peck before he untangled himself from you, ignoring your protests, “It’s late, Y/N, and you need to rest, those guys,” his face was grim, “they did a number on you.”

Your heart hammered against your chest at the thought of falling asleep, of closing your eyes and leaving yourself vulnerable to the nightmares you knew were sure to greet you when you did finally close your eyes.

Peter could read your anxiety and he squeezed your hand, “Hey, I’ll be here the entire time, nothing’s gonna hurt you, I promise.”

He sat down in the chair next to your bed to prove his point, and when you finally settled down, laying your head on the fluffy white pillow and closed your eyes, his hand still tightly grasped in yours, he brushed a kiss over your forehead.

“I’ll never leave you, Y/N.”

~~~~~~

I really hope you guys liked this and a side note, I don’t know much about Star Wars or if such a thing even exists lol. Feel free to let me know what you thought and if you have any prompts or suggestions for me, don’t hesitate to ask me (:

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olicitysmoaky · 7 years ago

Photo

The Summer People (13/14)

Read Chapter 13 on AO3 or start at the beginning here.

(Hope you enjoy it. No, new readers, that is not Susan Williams mentioned below lol. I created her last summer, so she’s an original character. Thank you so much for reading!)

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Susan, her kids and Felicity holed up in Oliver’s house for a few days after the insanity that was Aiden and his mobster pals. Though the repairs on Fitzpatrick home would take weeks, Susan’s contractor told them it would be safe for them to return to at the end of the day. They’d sectioned off the area Aiden’s little bomb had destroyed. Harlan would still tear up about it when she thought only Deville and Monroe were looking. She’d lost her ant farm, her rocket launcher, and the special blanket she kept on the sofa in front of the TV. It had been a baby blanket replacement of sorts she liked to keep on the down-low. Her mother had no idea it existed, but Felicity paid enough attention to the kids to know about it. She never said a word. She knew Harlan would grow out of it in her own time. Now, that bastard had taken that away from her. If Aiden wasn’t already in jail waiting to stand trial for all his misdeeds, Felicity would have murdered him. Oliver said that it was a good thing he wasn’t free then, he wanted to keep her free and next to him. The sap. So, since the smoke from the explosion and the wiring problems it had created were no longer an issue, the Fitzpatrick clan and their cousin would soon be heading home. As a goodbye, Oliver had set up a Queen summer estate style backyard barbecue.

“We have yet to have a minute ourselves this whole time,” Oliver whispered in Felicity’s ear as she stood a few yards out from the pool watching Susan teach her two youngest to swim. She was in a white summer dress and he wore a form-fitted t-shirt and cargo pants.

“After we’re not all under the same roof,” said Felicity. Damn he smelled really good.

“Felicity this roof is huge,” Oliver complained.

Felicity grinned, shaking her head, avoiding looking in the eyes that would surely break her resolve. She wanted to be with Oliver, but right now as not the time. She wanted to save all the good stuff for later, take some slow time to get to know each other even more. Her mind was made up on the issue. “They’ll be gone in a few hours.”

“You mean, you’ll be gone in a few hours,” he said on a pout.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised. “You’re taking me to lunch, remember?”

“Lunch on the beach, how could I forget?”

He lifted his hand to touch her bare back. A shiver danced up her spine then spiked into heated want. “Oliver…”

“What?”

Felicity turned around at the sound of an obvious giggle, flushing deeply. Monroe wiggled her toes and giggled as she lounged on a lawn chair beside Thea both in their couture bathing suits – Monroe’s dark blue one-piece and Thea’s pink two-piece. Roy and Dig stood together at the Queen’s state-of-the-art barbecue grill side-by-side grilling like the champions they claimed to be. Felicity smirked. Oliver claimed he could cook circles around those guys. He kept whispering things like to her all week. But she held him off. She didn’t want to sneak into his room or keep her voice down. She wanted to be with him no holds barred. Not that she’d really ever been with anyone to that degree. And he was Oliver Queen. The whole idea was suddenly making her nervous. But they were together now—sort of. Was it even really official? He hadn’t said it anything, only implied, and she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up.

“So, when’s Tommy coming home?” Felicity asked, trying to deter Oliver from embarrassing her too much in case people were listening.

“He always makes it back by the end of summer,” Thea piped in. Yep, they were listening.

“I think Tommy’s cute,” replied Monroe.

“Not cuter than Henry Lawson though, right?” Thea teased. It was Monroe’s turn to blush.

“Henry Lawson’s an idiot. I like Paxton Jones. He’s not a snob,” said Monroe. She seemed to have her priorities somewhat straight at least. Still, she was thirteen. She had no business worrying over boys so fast. Felicity hadn’t even had her first kiss until she was in college. But Monroe wasn’t a total spaz like she was – unfortunately. She had to make it a point to check in with her from time-to-time when she was no longer living under the same roof with her. But Susan seemed like she was making an effort. She turned down a film in Europe, selecting to work on an indie project that started in the fall in the city. The kids were already enrolled in school there. She’d be home most nights. It sounded like a good plan. Felicity might not have believed her, but after almost losing her kids, Susan’s priorities visibly shifted. It would hopefully last. Felicity really thought it might. She turned her eyes back to Susan helping Harlan paddle and blow bubbles while Deville did frog-stroked around them in a circle.

“My mom used to be on the swim team in high school,” remarked Monroe. “But she hasn’t swam with us since before my dad left.” Felicity hated that the kids had to go through such crap, but she was glad their mother was snapping out of the World of Susan Fitzpatrick a little bit.

“Well, I think it’s very cool,” said Thea.

“You know what?” Monroe said, sitting up. “I wanna do Lemonade with Lucy!”

“Well, you’ll have to help me make the lemonade then,” said Thea.

Monroe looked between Felicity and Oliver. “Ummm….”

“Go on, Monroe,” said Felicity with a little laugh.

“Ohhh. Now I get it,” said Monroe, jumping to her feet and giving Felicity a heavy wink. “Okay, we’ll go. See ya later, Oliver.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “They make a fun pair.”

“Both spoiled,” said Oliver.

“Both sweet,” Felicity corrected him.

“Just like you,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. Felicity looked over Oliver’s shoulder at Dig and Roy cooking. They weren’t paying attention them. She let Oliver kiss her a little longer. She shouldn’t care. She hadn’t cared after the incident with Aiden, but that had been a high-octane situation. This was real life, and she needed to know what they were. She hadn’t talked anything over with Susan though she hadn’t really had anything to say on the matter since that night.

After a few minutes, Oliver and Felicity sat on the lounge chairs next to the two Thea and Monroe vacated. “We could share a chair.”

“You’re really too much.” They settled back. Oliver shut his eyes, looking more peaceful and at home than Felicity had ever seen him. Felicity continued watching her family swim. This was nice. This was the way things were supposed to be.

A few minutes later, the kids climbed out and ran inside. “We’re changing!” they announced in unison. Seconds later, Susan emerged from the pool looking glorious. Felicity looked over at Oliver to see if he was watching and found him side-eyeing her, amidst feigning asleep.

Susan settled onto the chair Monroe had left behind. “So, I don’t think we’re coming back to the Hamptons next year,” said Susan.

“What? Why?” asked Felicity.

“As you know, I’ll have the kids in New York for the year, but after that I’m taking them back to LA. The summer, who knows. Maybe London. I know Monroe wants to go to a con or something or other.”

“A convention. You know like Comic Con?” Felicity supplied.

Susan’s eyes grew big and she smacked the top of her head in a very un-Susan-like gesture. “Oh, that! Yeah, I always have to go to that. It’s so crowded.” She crinkled her nose.

“I think the one she wants to go will be smaller, but I’m not sure you should take her," Felicity explained.

“Why not? I’m trying to spend more quality time with my kids.”

“I think Felicity means that you’d attract unwanted attention. Maybe even distract from the main stars fans are coming to see," said Oliver.

Susan touched her chest in an overly affected gesture to reflect flattery. “Little old me? Well, I guess you’re right,” she said. “Maybe you two could… I mean if you’re still together. Or are you together. I’m not really sure what’s going on with all this.” She gestured between them.

Felicity's cheeks pinked. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Little cousin…Look. I’m fine with whatever it is you two want. Oliver and I were just a…I don’t know what we were.”

Oliver turned red this time. He looked like he was struggling to keep a strangle hold on the words he really wanted to say. Felicity was grateful. No matter how much grief Susan had given them, she wanted to keep the peace. After all they’d been through, they deserved it.

“I can see that whatever is going on here is coming from some place genuine. Don’t let that go. And on that note, I’m going to go change.” She got up and headed toward the house. But not before shouting toward Dig and Roy, “Lookin’ good, guys.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me on my chair?” Oliver waggled his eyebrows.

“Not completely sure. No.” Felicity reached over and grabbed Monroe’s book and hid behind it. What on earth was this girl reading?

Oliver smirked. “That’s good to know.”

***

If Oliver doesn’t get a little alone time with Felicity soon, he’s going to stick his fist through a wall. Not that he hasn’t enjoyed having the kids over. They’re great, but it’s time he at least had a talk with Felicity. He knows she wants to wait until their lunch tomorrow, but he’s not sure he can. He has a lot he need to say to her, and not just in the romantic sense.

“You know what movie I need to see?” Thea said, settling into the sofa cushions after serving everyone a round of lemonade. Oliver really thought that was a first, her serving anyone anything. Being around Felicity – and the kids -- really had changed them all for the better.

“What’s that?” Felicity asked. She was sitting knee-to-knee with Oliver. She had another thing coming if she didn’t think he was about to get his snuggle on once to show started.

“Wonder Woman,” said Thea.

“That’s not out until next summer,” said Felicity.

“I know, but we’ll get the director’s cut by December,” said Susan. “I told Thea I’d invite you all over for the holidays, if you want. We can do a sort of Christma-kuh.”

Felicity blinked. “You’d really do that for us?” Oliver was just as surprised as Felicity. It wasn’t like Susan to consider others. And he damn well knew watching a superhero movie she was not in would not be her thing.

Susan shrugged. “Why not?”

They settled on the Lucy grapes episode. About halfway through, Oliver slipped his hand onto Felicity’s soft knee and started rubbing in circles. He felt her look over at him, but he kept his eyes glued to the screen. When she didn’t remove his hand, he took that as encouragement. He stroked her skin up and down her thigh. The little sigh she expelled made the air in his lungs catch. Felicity’s entire body seemed to melt under his touch and she gave in, inching closer to him and finally settling into his arms. He buried his lips in her air, brushing them back and forth. “You smell good,” he murmured. What he really wanted to say was that he was in love with her. He knew it from the bottom of his soul. He’d never felt like this about anyone. He’d do anything for her. He wanted her in his life forever. But it was too soon for all that. Right now, he was content to just be with her – until they had their talk. He wasn’t going to propose marriage quite yet, but he did have a business proposition for her. He hadn’t been able to get it out of his mind since the morning after they’d taken down Aiden and Brickwell.

About three and a half episodes in, as they were watching Lucy’s fake nose being lit up like a cigar, the door bell rang. Thea, Roy and the kids were in the throes of enormous belly laughs while Susan sat, eyes glued to the screen, trying to contain her mirth. Dig sat their shaking his head from side-to-side, looking like he was enjoying himself too. Oliver and Felicity had been distracted by each other for the past half hour. “Should we get it?” Felicity asked.

“No, I’ll go,” Oliver said, extracting her from his arms.

Felicity poked out her lip.

He huffed out a laugh. She was so damn adorable. “Okay, we’ll go.”

She popped up beside Oliver, stretching herself like a cat. Scratch that, she was damn adorable and damn sexy. “We’re going to answer the door,” said Felicity.

“Uh-huh,” was the general answer from the group.

Oliver looked into the security camera to see his parents standing on the door step. Oliver pulled the door open. “Mom? Dad? What happened to your keys?”

“We didn’t want to walk into any wild orgies,” Robert quipped.

“Robert!” Moira admonished her husband as they stepped inside. “We were simply trying to respect your privacy, dear?” She held out her hand for Felicity to take. “Moira Queen.”

“Robert,” Oliver’s father, extended his had to Felicity.

Oliver couldn’t help but feel warm and proud inside. He tipped his chin up a bit and said, “Mom, Dad. This is Felicity. She’s my friend.”

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Just one chapter to go! Thanks for reading!

@miriam1779, @hope-for-olicity, @tdgal1, @thebookjumper, @imusuallyobsessed @laurabelle2930, @missyriver, @green-arrows-of-karamel, @emmilynestill, @charlinert @olicityfics

#olicity #fanfic #arrow #felicity smoak #oliver queen

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scarletolsens-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Five hours with him (First hour)

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

- Okay, so. - I said. - We have five hours ahead for me to guess who you are.

- Exactly.

- I have an idea. We could play 20 questions, and that could give me some clues.

He thought about it for a moment.

- Okay, I agree. But, you can’t ask me anything about my job, house, partners, projects, full name, or anything that would tell you anything directly about who am I.

- Alright. Shall I start?

- You’re the one who has to guess, so I think it’s fair.

- Great. Okay, let me think… Oh, I know. If you could have any superpower, which one would you like to have and why?

- Wow, you’re going strong. I’d like to be super handsome so that I could have any girl I want. - he answered, smiling.

- I don’t think that’s a superpower, dude… - I said, laughing.

- Well, then… I’d like to be super strong, to knock out the bad guys. Ad it’d be cool to have a metal arm too.

- A metal arm? Why? - I asked, frowning.

- Why not?

- Well, it doesn’t sound comfortable, but okay… You ask now, come on.

- Uhm… if you could have just one hobby, which one would it be?

- Travel.

- I thought you didn’t like to fly.

- I don’t. But as I told you, I can go anywhere I want by car. - I answered, shrugging my shoulders.

- What about Europe? Or Asia? Australia? New Zealand?

- Well, I can take a cruise!

- Right… Now, you ask.

- Okay. Typical question. If you could have dinner with a famous person, dead or alive, who would that be?

- Chris Evans.

- Chris Evans? The captain America guy? Why?

- I think he’s handsome. - he said, shrugging his shoulders.

- Well, you’ve got your point… Your turn.

- This one is a little bit personal.

- Say it, cowboy. I can handle anything.

- Alright. Would you be able to forgive an ind¡fidelity if you know that person really loves you?

- What? - I said, surprised. - Do you know anything about ym boyfriend I don’t?

- No… I didn’t even know you had a boyfriend.

- I don’t – I said, laughing. - And, my answer is no. A relationship is not just about love, it’s also about trust, and commitment. If you cheat on your boyfriend, wife, whatever, you may love them, but you don’t have any commitment. And I can’t be with someone who doesn’t comit. At least, that’s how I see it.

- Deep. You have really clear ideas. How old are you?

- It’s not your turn, so I won’t answer. I’m sorry, babe. Now it’s my turn. Between being ugly but rich and handsome and poor, what would you choose?

- I’m already handsome and rich, so I don’t have to choose.

I rolled my eyes – Answer.

- I’d like to be rich and ugly.

- Why?

- With money you can buy things. And you can pay for an esthetic surgery.

- That’s right. Your turn.

- Okay. I won’t ask anything deep for a while, so, what’s the most crazy thing you’ve done in your life?

- Oh, my. Okay, in one of my spring breaks, I went to Florida with my friends. And we went to Orlando. And we saw Cinderella’s castle. And one of the guys who came with me was really hot, and he fancied me too. And there were these bathrooms where we… well. We had sex.

- You had sex with a guy at Cinderellas’s castle?

- Yes – I said, covering my face with my hands – I was drunk, oh my god.

He laughed his ass off for a few minutes. When he had finished, he looked at me.

- Poor kids who were there… I hope any of them listened to you fucking your Prince Charming.

- Oh, my god, shut up – I told him, slapping his arm.

- Okay, okay, sorry… It’s your turn, come on.- Alright, uhm… What’s your favourite word?

- Well, that one’s easy. See, I’m actually romanian, so, my mother and I always speak in romanian. And he always call me “dragostea”, which means “love”. Like, she’s always like “dragostea mea”. And that’s my favourite word because it reminds me of her.

- That’s so cute…

- Thanks. Now, mine. If you knew you’re going to die in a year, how would you change your life style?

- That one is cruel!

- Sorry, I won’t change.

- Well, I’d take all my money, leave my job, and travel through the world. I’d like to see every culture, every type of lifestyle there’s in each corner of the world. And when I had just one month left, I’d come back to my parents’ house, to spend with them all I had left.

- That’s quite cute. I think I’d do the same…

- Copycat… - I whispered.

- That’s not true!

- Yeah, whatever. It’s my turn now. If you were a pizza topping, which one would you be?

- Pineapple.

- You didn’t say that. How can someone want to be pineapple in a pizza? That’s disgusting, boy.

- That’s why. To annoy people like you.

- You’re already annoying me. Just shut up and ask me the fucking question.

- Would you like to travel to the past or to the future?

- Future.

- Why?

- To see if I’ll achieve all my goals. I bet I will, but it’s just to make sure.

- You’re pretty sure of yourself. That’s good. Your turn.

- What kind of famous person would you like to be?

- What do you mean?

- Yes. Like, actor, singer…

- Oh, I’d like to be an actor.

- So, you’re an actor. Great info. Thank you.

- You cheated!

- Actually not. You told me not to ask you about your job, name, or projects. Which I didn’t.

- You’re clever

- More than you think. It’s your turn now.

- Okay. Describe yourself in three words.

- Fighter, emotional, and funny.

- Good way to describe someone.

- Yeah?

- Yes. I’d totally date someone with those characteristics.

- You’re stupid…

- I’m saying the truth. Now ask me.

- Fine. Now, what’s something that you don’t like about the other people?

- I’m not sure… There’s nothing that really annoys me… I mean, it’s hard to really annoy me. I’m not sure. Maybe when they eat with their mouth open?

I laughed.

- You’re cute. Let’s go, ask me.

- Uhm… Typical question. If your life was a book, do you think people would read it?

- Not really. I mean, I have an average life. This journey is probably the most exciting thing that has happened to me in the whole month, so…

- Well, maybe it’s time to change something.

- I’m not sure. I’m great in my comfort zone.

- Yeah, but… Maybe you should start with a simple change. Like, starting new hobby.

- Maybe… I don’t know – I said, shrugging my shoulders.

- You should try. Just try.

- Maybe I will… My question. How do you have your car’s boot?

- Full of clothes. Just in case I need to change something. I’m really likely to get dirty… I’m just like a 5 years old.

- I laughed.

- I’m not sure if that’s cute or weird.

- Let’s leave it in “cute”. My turn. What’s your favourite saying?

- Well, I’m not sure, but… maybe “Slicker than snot in a doorknob”.

- Oh Jeez. That’s disgusting, [Y/N].

- I know! But my mother always said that whenever she had the chance, and it was just so funny!

- Your mother is weird.

- Well, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

He shaked his head.

- Please ask me the question before this gets more uncomfortable.

- Okay – I said, laughing. - In which wrong way do people judge you before they get to meet you?

- Well, people usually think I’m too snob because I’m famous, but when they get to know me, they see I’m just as normal as they are…

- Yeah, it happens to me constantly – I said, sarcatically. He laughed. Now your turn.

- Where would your dreamed holidays be?

- Australia. The problem is the plane I have to catch.

- Well, you can always get on a cruise! - he said, impersonating me. - You’re a pain in the ass, Sebastian…

- Yeah, people tells me that constantly. Now ask me, come on.

- Okay… Let´s see. If you… had to become one of your friends, who would he or she be and why?

- I think… I’d like to be Chris. You know, he’s a great guy, he’s got a cute dog, and he’s really hot. You’d totally fall in love with him.

- I don’t think so.

- I do.

- I don’t.

- Hear me out, it’s true.

- Okay, as you say. Now, ask me.

- Uhm… What was your favourite cartoon as a kid?

- Uhm, there was this one which… was about the X-men? I think. I really liked all the super heroes stuff as a child. I’d spent hours in front of a TV if that show was on it.

- Really? And you don’t like super heroes anymore?

- It’s not that I don’t like it… It’s just that I don’t have time for going to the cinema or watch any TV show. Well, other than Game of Thrones.

- Why are you so mainstream?

I shrugged. - It’s a great show. My turn. What would you like to change about the way you were raised?

- Nothing. All I have now is thanks to my mother. Because of how she raised and because of how she took care of me. I have a lot to thank her and I wouldn’t change anything.

- That’s sweet. I bet your mother is a great person.

- She’s the best. - he smiled. - I love her so freaking much.

I smiled too.- It’s your turn.

- Oh, right. If you could buy just one thing more, anything, what would you buy?

- A ticket for the San Diego Comic Con.

- I thought you didn’t have time to see anything related to super heroes.

- Yeah… but the Game of Thrones cast usually goes there and well, you know… Kit Harington is high key hot.

- Oh, Jeez… - he said, puting two fingers in the top of her nose. - Okay, you ask.

- Which 3 characteristics do you appreciate the most in a person?

- Uh, that one is hard… Well, first of all, I like people who aren’t seekers. You know, who aren’t with you for convinience. - I nodded. - Also, I like people who say it in your face, not in your back. Even if it’s the worst thing. I like to know what people think about me, doesn’t matter what it is. And the third one, I like people who can make me laiugh even in the worst days.

- You have very clear ideas. Did anyone hurt you in the past?

- I think everybody has been hurt in a point of their past, huh?

- That’s true…

- Okay, a fun one now. Anything new you want to learn?

- I’d lobe to learn how to sing properly. I don’t have a very sweet voice, but I think with the accurate help I could be a good singer. - I laughed. - But that’s just a dream.

- Sing.

- What?

- Yeah, sing something.

- I don’t know…

- Come on, it’s just us. Sing. Just a little bit.

- Uhm, well. Have you seen Beauty and the Beast?

- I’m not that old…

- The new one! I took my friend’s son and… Now I can’t take those songs out of my head so I’ll just sing one.

He laughed. - It’s okay. Just sing.

I blushed, and cleared my throat.

- Madame Gaston, can’t you just see it? Madame Gaston, his little wife. No sir, not me, I guarantee it. I want much more than this provincial life! I want adventure in the great wide somewhere. I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grant to have someone understand. I want so much more than they’ve got planned…

- Hey! That was great… You look like a little Belle yourself.

- Well, I used to want more than that provincial life…

- And now?

- Now I have it. Great, it’s my turn! Uhm… Who do you think would win in a fight? You or your best friend.

- Obviously me. Haven’t you see these arms? God, I’m the one and only Hercules!

I laughed. - Yeah, or Gaston, since I’m Belle.

- If you were Belle I’d make myself a beast just to be with you. - I turned red, and hid my face between my hands, meanwhile he was laughing. - I think it’s my turn now. What is the last book you read?

- I can’t remember. I haven’t had many time to read recently, so…

- Oh, that’s so sad!

- Yeah, I know. Your turn now.

- If you could be an animal, which one would you be?

- I told you. A beast. Well, I already am. If you know what I me-

- Enough! I don’t want to hear anything else!

- Sorry, sorry – he laughed. I’m sorry… My question. Are you that person who would sacrifice on person to save one hundred?

- If that person is not a beloved one, probably. If it’s me, I don’t think so.

- Let’s say it’s me.

- Then I’d kill you, bury you, and resurrect you to kill you again and save two hundred people.

- You’re mean. You’re talking me about your sex! I don’t care about your fucking sex!

- I said I was sorry!

- But you didn’t mean it, you fake asshole!

- Oh, come on!

- You know what? I’m done with this game. We’ve been playing for an hour now and I still have any clue who the fuck you are.

- So, you give up?

- Of course not! But I’m hungry. Let’s have something for lunch and then I’ll try to guess something in another way.

- As you say, milady…

I rolled my eyes and got up. I tried to get out of my sit passing above him, but I fell and end up sitting in his legs.

- So you don’t want me to talk about sex but you literlly drop yourself on top of my little big friend.

- Oh, shut up, it was an accident! - I said, getting up again and leaving the carriage, with him follwoing me while laughing.

60 notes · View notes

aplaceforrtprompts · 8 years ago

Note

could you do one where you're jon's barista and he develops a caffeine addiction just by going to see you every day? v fluffy pls. thank you!

Word Count: 766

“Late. You’re going to miss your boyfriend if you're late,” your coworker waggled her eyebrows at you.

“I lost my keys and had trouble finding them,” you admitted, finishing tying your apron around you, “Besides I have no idea who you’re talking about since I’m single.”

She narrowed her eyes at you as she passed a tea off to an awaiting customer, “If I recall a month ago when you were late you would send me a poop emoji then stroll in whenever. You also never took the time to do your hair and get all dolled up. Who are you?”

“There is nothing wrong with taking pride in your job and appearance,” you crossed your arms defending yourself.

“Speaking of looking good,” she nodded behind you.

You jumped up, standing straight as you quickly fixed your hair and turned with a big smile. Your smile instantly fell as you turned back to glare at your laughing coworker, “Ha ha. Very funny. So I have a little crush.”

“A crush?” a familiar voice said behind you.

You didn’t have to turn to see who it was. You ignored your coworker laughing even harder as you greeted Jon, “Yeah. She thinks it's funny I have a think for a comic book character but who doesn’t have a crush on Deadpool, right?” You were shocked at yourself at how smooth that was.

“A romantic, a smooth talker, honest, and funny. A dream boat really,” Jon replied back smoothly. “I didn’t know you were into comic books.”

Your co-worker snorted, “Are you kidding me? Y/N’s apartment looks like a damn comic book store with how many long boxes are lying around.”

You flushed slightly but Jon’s eyes lit up, “I can’t believe we didn’t discover this sooner. “I’m a huge comic book nerd. Some even might call me a snob. This is crazy.”

“Some might even call it fate,” your co-worker interjected again and you turned to swat at her.

“I’m so sorry about her. She tends to get feisty at her lunch break, speaking of which,” you looked back to her.

She waved you off, “Yeah. Yeah. I’m going. I’ll leave you two love birds.”

Your cheeks flushed but you looked back to Jon who was just standing there smiling at you.

“The usual?” you asked.

Jon nodded as you went to work making his coffee just right. You were precise right down to the last chocolate drizzle.

“Ta-da!” you slid the drink over to him. He went for his wallet and you shook your head, “On the house.”

“I can’t,” argued still pulling out money.

You placed your hands on his, “You’re a loyal customer and tip way too much. Let me just- This one is on me.”

It was Jon’s turn to have his cheeks heat up as he looked down at your hands then up at you, “I have a bit of a confession.”

You dropped your hands and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Oh.”

He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “To be honest, I was a tea guy. I was actually on my way to work when I stopped in here to grab a tea which I did from time to time but I had never run into you before. Until one day I was coming into work late so I finally ran into you. I was honestly nervous the first time I met you so when you offered this,” he pointed to his drink, “All I could do was nod. It was and is the best coffee I’ve ever had so I come back again and again just to see you and order coffee. I became addicted to coffee and honestly you.”

You flushed red again unsure of what to say but the smile evident on your face as you looked to the counter.

When Jon could tell you were at a loss for words he spoke up again, “I’ll take this one on you if dinner can be on me and maybe a movie. I hear Logan is playing.”

You looked back to him finally regaining dome composure, “Deal but I’m buying the popcorn.”

“Fair enough,” Jon held out his phone, “Mind if I get your number?”

“My pleasure,” you took his phone and admitted, “I lied earlier. I do have a crush on Deadpool. I was talking about you though.”

Jon took his phone back and smiled, “I know.”

“Well, okay Han Solo. I’ll see you tonight,” you shook your head.

Jon took his coffee and flashed you one more smile, “Can’t wait.”

#JonR #ragehappy #reader insert #rt reader insert #rt imagine #Anonymous

25 notes · View notes

lostlevelsclub · 5 years ago

Text

Mike’s Eliza Notes

Since there was more to the game than we could cover in the episode, below are the full notes that I made while playing Eliza.

Chapter 1

It starts with Evelyn talking about a dream. When’s the last time you had a dream?

She writes herself an email titled “You will do it” saying “I believe in you” ?!

The music is very Zachtronics

I like the chat History - probably will be useful…

What is the game going to be? Will I have to choose whether to stick to the script that Eliza gives? Is it mostly going to be just thought provoking about what therapy is and the machine vs. the human touch?

The sentiment analyzer tagging things as positive or negative - is it meant to show that the way Eliza works is actually pretty simplistic? E.g. “expensive” tagged as negative, but it’s used here in a positive sense (the office is in an expensive area)

Eliza totally lies to him and pretends that you’re talking not it! Scandal

It tells you to tell him your name!

Anexophin? Is that real?

Surely this wouldn’t be sufficient even if you had a super smart AI - there’s so much variance in how you can read the script and deliver it.

Haha, even as the proxy therapist you get achievements, a score and can level up?!

They added the “speak to a real human” script. Is that how AI works? I suppose it might work any number of ways. Hey, is this the AI game Ting said they should make??

Rae: Sometimes you don’t have any choices and you just have to follow directions, Most jobs are like that, honestly.

Eliza - named after the 1960’s computer program (early chat bot?)

Eliza is just making people feel better, but it isn’t actually making things better. Is Darren right that the world is a mess and counselling just helps people ignore it?

Zachtronics loves solitaire minigames…

It must be weird going to Eliza and speaking to a different person every time that talks as though they know you. Maybe it’s like speaking to a hive mind? Many bodies, one set of thoughts.

Lytosinol-2? Is that real?

Your friend Nora asks if the people at the counselling office “know” - know what?!

Something traumatic clearly happened 3 years ago

Nora - formerly a coder but now a musician and artist. Old self might have worried about not making as much money, but happier now. Is this me?! Sometimes takes a little contract coding work, but makes most what she needs for rent from her art

Did you used to work on Eliza as a coder or something? Your former boss was a psychologist and “creepo” (Soren)

Nora has some whack eastern european accent.

Soren is currently at (and leaving) Skandha, so sounds like you did work on Eliza

Snake Person = VSs, “biz dev”

Evelyn’s comment about the coffee shop - “it’s nice to know this is an option, the tea and coffee at the counselling center didn’t look so inspiring. Am I… am I being a snob?”

Immediately after coffee, you get an email that confirms you were one of the principal devs on Eliza.

Komorebi (the name of the coffee shop)

Language: Japanese

Meaning: The interplay between light and leaves when sunlight shines through trees.

Evelyn has some pictures propped up against the wall “that have been sitting there like that for a long time”. I also have a picture that is just propped against the wall instead of hung up (though I like it on the floor, or maybe that’s just what I tell myself?!)

Chapter 2

Email (from your mum?) with news story about mandatory fortnightly Eliza conversations at school for middle and high school students

You used to work at Magus books. Email from a customer there that is sad you left

Induced dreams by direct neural stimulation… interesting and creepy idea. Rather than invoking a feeling or improvement by talking, directly cause the required feeling.

Aponia - ancient greek, it means “the absence of pain”. Is it meant to sound like “a pony”? That’s what everyone really wants :P

Yao-Ren “Rainer” Tsai. Chairman and CEO of Skandha Corporation

Eliza is always talking about the rain - I guess that’s Seattle?

Gabriel stressed about having no time for himself after becoming a father

15 mins of VR - starry skies. Would that really help anything?

Anexophin - is that a real thing?

He gave 2 stars, but still a $5 tip?? He didn’t seem to find it helpful… he’ll be back

Maya

Has some serious social anxiety.

No one cares about her art (like no one cares about our podcast :P)

15 minutes of Meadow Lands each day. Is this to illustrate that Eliza’s treatments are bad?

Holiday Durant

Would smoke dope more often but it’s expensive :shrug:

Unmarked white busses, secret transport system “just for them” - it probably is! i.e. employee transport for tech firms

She asks Eliza about past life regression and Eliza breaks XD

Eliza doesn’t know what to do, since there’s nothing particularly wrong?? She just wants someone to talk to.

Fortipran hydrochloride - is that a real thing? Is it for shoulder pain, since that’s what she asked for? Apparently it sounds like an anti-anxiety drug (it’s not real). She forgets the name and thinks it’s forzapram. (you later discover it IS for shoulder pain!)

Dinner with Soren

Move on - “want to do his memory right, don’t you”. So the trauma was related to a guy?

I say “whose” and am told “Damien of course. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Rainer and Soren. Soren bitter that Rainer is CEO and never wanted for anything. Had all the right names - Harvard, Goldman Sachs

He needs a chief engineer, wants you (or maybe he wanted Nora but she said no :P)

Nora is DJing at an S&M club… or not - Soren is just wrong, and then goes to hit on a bunch of random women.

Email - Car will pick you up for meeting with Rainer at 9:20am from Queen Anne office. So Rainer must know you are working as a proxy

Nora tells you a load of electronic music stuff. The names sound real, and I know the other Zachtronics founder is into electronic music, so maybe it’s all real facts

Roland-TB303 (devil fish mod?)

Moog (pronounced Moag)

Li’l Sappho - greek poet..?

The music is… lewd? Sounds good, wild and untamed.

Chapter 3

Talking with Rainer. He found out you were back because your proxy scores were unusually good and he looked.

Being a proxy - more than an order of magnitude drop in pay vs. old job

Damien Seabrook - brilliant career cut short. He died? Suicide?

“Burnout isn’t uncommon in our line of work, still three years is...”

“You know what outstanding engineers have that mediocre ones don’t? It’s curiosity”

I guess you get to choose everything except the therapy? Are there branching paths?

Erlend, Chief Engineer - “he looks like a baby”, “he must be fresh out of university”

3rd chief engineer in 3 years since Evelyn left

Ratings are normalized per proxy. I don’t think you’ve really done enough sessions to really be an outlier though, unless you’ve done some off camera

Teams in Romania, Munich and Hyderabad.

Rae totally fangirling over Rainer

Erlend - “If I understand the programmer, then I understand the program”

It really is interesting to see other people’s code. It gives insight into how their brain solves problems, decomposes complex tasks.

So Eliza is just a small facet of Skandha, and Rainer really is a bigshot. Genuinely surprising that he knows who Evelyn is, or maybe at a tech firm the CEO does know star tech talent.

Eliza v10.3.3, Firmware version v110 c3115

Boot ROM 114.0.0.0.0

Chipset 18210B0

Mark Foras

“Well i don’t know if you’ve noticed, but young people are really pissy and entitled these days.” “Why would we want these conceited, overcelebrated whelps on our team? I’ll never understand the logic there”

Neg neg neg neg neg neg neg neg neg neg neg neg neg…

SwiftMail, InfoVault - more traditional enterprise software

He’s very dismissive of Eliza! Supposedly Rainer “liked a chick on the team”, which would be Nora or Evelyn I guess.

“Mark, I’m going to suggest you try a program called “Lakeside Fishing”“ LOL

“I didn’t recognise his face or name”

“Glad I never had to work with him”

Hariman Gunawan

British accent, so since this is an American game does that make him a villain? He sounds very posh.

Grad student, English Literature

He sounds a lot like the British Malaysian comic that is on Friday Night Comedy podcast sometimes. Phil Wang..? OMG - it IS him!

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10741934/fullcredits/?ref_=tt_ov_st_sm

Evelyn’s reading of the lines seems slightly more wooden after seeing Eliza (the server room). Is that intended? It’s very subtle. Or maybe it’s not wooden, maybe it’s some personal opinion creeping in? The goodbye for Hariman and Mark were both not neutral

Lytosinol 2 - in universe it’s a beta blocker

2 stars!? Rude! A tip though?

Rae’s brother struggles with substance abuse. She mentions it in the article about her and she’s on the phone to him when you visit.

Being a proxy gives Evelyn perspective - seeing how everyone else is messed up…

“Were we all just talking past each other?”

Rae - But you could also help even more people by working on Eliza itself, right? Not to mention make way more money.

Rae tells you not to downplay yourself

Rainer messages you and reveals that most of the Eliza cluster isn’t used for therapy, it’s trying to build a general purpose AI! :O

Rainer: This may sound off to you, but I’ll know I’ve successfully created a general artificial intelligence when I see it write a poem.

Evelyn: A poem

Rainer: Yes, It would have to be a good one, of course.

AI to humans as powered transport is to pack animals. Interesting way to look at it.

Rae describes a Skanda tech recruitment event. Is tech talent REALLY that in demand? Is it really that hard to get good engineers?

Evelyn - “And before that I just never had the time. It was just, research and science and work and then I woke up one day and I was in my thirties” OMG

“Even if I wanted to date, I wouldn’t know the first thing about how it’s supposed to work

“I wouldn’t even know how to tell if someone were interested in me…”

Though is this game THAT kind of visual novel? haha.

Rae is asexual? Will this game be a fully representative spectrum of everything?

Chapter 4

Soren: Say there was a medical procedure that could remove your suffering. No side effects, no cost. Just an operation that would make you permanently happy.

I’d say being permanently happy was a bad side effect.. Sometimes you need to feel sad (cue melancholy playlist…)

The Glencadam - scotch whisky. Is that a real thing? (yes)

Direct stimulation / induced dreaming vs talking things over. I’ve actually thought about this - there are changes that you might want to make to your mind or body, but you can’t because you don’t have the right levers.You have to take an indirect route and use the tools / levers that exist. Is it possible to build levers from what you have? Like hacking a machine and getting a foothold, then building an editor to enter more exploit code until you control the whole machine. Could you do that to your mind, or even your body?

Soren: Anger, depression, emptoness, anxiety, jealousy, every kind of unhappiness you can think of… obsolete.

I’ve thought about this too - these things serve a purpose, even if it’s not one that’s necessarily beneficial for you as an individual. Like when you’re depressed, is that your body telling you to die so you’re not a drain on the group? Not a nice thought - could it just be an error to be fixed?

Soren thinks Rainer was against direct stimulation “fixes” so that people would be unhappy and reliant on mental health services from Skandha

Damien worked himself to death. All nighters, multiple times. Pulmonary embolism. At least it wasn’t suicide…

Soren:

It’s late and I’ve had quite a bit to drink, so I’ll tell you a secret, Evelyn.

I said I want to end human suffering, which makes me sound very altruistic.

But I’m not doing it for humankind. I’m doing it for myself.

I have nothing. I’ve ruined every relationship I was ever in.

I hardly ever see my kids, and, well, they hate me anyway.

…

I want to end my own suffering, but I can’t bring myself to do it the… traditional way. That’s why I’ve pursued this technology. That’s why I want it to exist.

The idea that everyone else could use it too… it’s just a bonus.

Mark Foras mass emails the whole of Skandha with his farewell message! He signs off “Excelsior!” who does that?!

Hariman again

Evelyn has mirth in her voice as she says hello

He slept with Sylvia

Is he comic relief? He’s more worried now than before!

“How do I tell Liz?” Wtf

“Did I mention this last time? I have a sort of, girlfriend”

“I can’t believe this. I got what I wanted and it ruined my life.”

Irony - he hated self-pitying novels by men who were messed up by a relationship and couldn’t get over it, but how he’s one of them

Eliza’s questioning really is reminiscent of the Eliza program

15 minutes of Meadow Lands each day - Hariman thinks this is a good idea?!

3 stars?? I guess it’s better than two. Still got a $5 tip

Maya Leeds

Jealousy at the success of younger people - mid-thirties.

This is clearly the age at which everything starts to go wrong. It’s easy to be positive when you’re younger, but when you get to mid-thirties, you feel that time is running out, it’s half way for most people…

Maya:

Well there’s - there’s one woman in particular everyone loves.

And her work is… I don’t get it. I just - I don’t understand. She gets so much money and support for this basic, basic shit.

And somehow everyone’s predisposed to like her.

I mean, maybe I do get it…

I feel like people pay attention to her work not because it’s good on its own, but because supporting her feels like the right thing to do.

The way she’s aligned herself it’s like… if you support her, it means you’re cool, You’re in with the cool kids.

And if I’m not publicly supportive of her and generally tolerant of her mediocre work, then I’m the bad one, I’m the competitive bitch, I’m the… the bitter failure.

Transparency mode! Eliza reads all of your emails and chats

5 stars, $5. The tip seems to always be $5 if there is one

Is there anything that secret in my electronic messages? I don’t think there’s anything that salacious. Maybe I’m just boring… or maybe I just keep it off the record most of the time. I guess there are a few mad conversations.

Eliza Transparency Mode 0.8.2

Maya’s text conversation with Garrett - super grim. She’s just venting and being sad and he doesn’t know what to do.

$186.11 rideshare bill! $150 cleaning and $10 tip.

Erlend is disturbed by the idea of copying Eliza and sending the data to other teams, including external ones.

You don’t really tell him anything, you just listen and he feels better.

Capitol Hill - is that a real place in Seattle?

I have a jacket like Nora’s

Chat with Erlend - what does it mean to be conscious, to be sentient? Would you even know? What if you just gave the correct responses, but weren’t? Chinese Room

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinese_room

In Evelyn’s three lost years. She tried to get up in the morning like she meant to go to work, tried to do personal projects… it didn’t last long.

Stayed in bed, even though she was awake. Cared less and less about projects

A blankness would come over her and it seemed fine to do nothing (depression?)

Evelyn:

I was by myself and I thought that was alright. I thought - that’s how it is, really. Everyone’s along. I’m just being honest about it.

…

I was...thirty-one when I left Soren’s group. Now I’m thirty-four.

I just slept into my mid-thirties.

(I just podcasted…)

Chose to get super high and watch cyber-goth music vids

Chapter 5

Nora is a public critic of Eliza. Rae is sad about it

Everyone is very understanding - trying not to push you one way or the other! Presumably you’ll get a choice how the story goes - whether to work on Eliza or not.

Holiday Durant!

She is so random and all over the place. She tried to buy “forpanza” but it was $162 and she didn’t have that kind of money. Asked for a generic, didn’t have one, there’s a similar one but she didn’t have a prescription. The off to a story about meeting someone with wires in their brain.

Concerned that bus operators don’t care as much since there was a guy playing the guitar on the bus, and also that you don’t hear as much music any more???

A lot of “forced reflow during execution”

Recommended she tries a program “Dolphin Smiles”. Her phone is broken XD

Holiday seems to be the most challenging client for Eliza to understand, since she doesn’t really have any problems other than wanting someone to talk to.

Nora forwards the Eliza critical article to me - it mentions that the proxies are humans that have been reduced to machines as all they do is follow the prompts. The guy who wrote it emailed you earlier about an interview (which you ignored)

Transparency mode for Holiday!? Seems surprising

Fortipran HCl IS for joint and muscle pain, so Eliza’s prescription was on point!

Holiday is clearly NOT in a good place financially.

She never mentioned her real problems to Eliza

I just noticed that one of the early emails you get is “The Damien Seabrook Memorial Fund”, year 3. Who are K & G that sign off the mail?

Transparency mode from SOREN?!?!? Is this hax??

Soren says to Nora that she knows she fancies Evelyn. So it is one of those games :P

Why is your chat with Soren not in here?

He was messaging Sarah, Rainer’s assistant

He was emailing what sounds like a bondage tutorial???

Rainer says that Soren is focussing on dreams to defend his territory, Jung-ian tradition.

Soren believes the mind is indivisible after a certain point - some undefinable, ineffable soul inside every person.

Rainer: One day, algorithms will write better poems than humans ever have.

I’m not sure it’s an easy thing to judge - art is so much about the intent and the journey as much as the result. Look at modern art, like Rothko - it’s very simple, but it’s considered important because of what it means rather than the execution. If a machine just generated it without struggle, would people treat it the same way?

Rainer: The pleasures of the senses are just small bubbles on top of a vast sea of… forms. Sensations, perceptions. Thought. Awareness.

It might be fun to take a break and just debate philosophy for a while.

Rainer: What comes after having the power to experience the dream of anything you could possibly want?

You’re still just as trapped as you’ve always been - imprisoned by your own desires

(this is Maya’s problem)

He calls you Eliza, haha

Evelyn Ishino-Aubrey

You have to answer 7 questions about how you feel - I’m not sure how I should have answered them for Evelyn, I wonder if it makes a difference.

The Eliza interface is projected onto glasses it seems.

Evelyn is middle class or richer, seeing Holiday’s situation was a shock for her.

The proxies were Soren’s idea.

“<NAME>, imagine that you could have something that you wanted. What would you want?”

Does it matter what you pick? You get a huge list, but then it says “or maybe I just wish I could feel connected to someone”. Probably because it’s built on a dating sim :P

Evelyn:

I think maybe that’s the real problem.

I can’t have a connection to anyone…

(is that my problem too?)

“I was alone a lot, and I got used to being alone, and I got used to the idea of being alone, and now I can’t… I can’t break away”

Evelyn is prescribed “Virtual Amphitheatre”, 20 minutes 2-3 times a week

So you CAN tip more than $5, haha

Chapter 6

Erlend talks about dogfooding the apps, which is a term well known in tech circles, but maybe not outside.

Maya Leeds

YOU GET A CHOICE :O

I stuck with Eliza…

Eliza suggests Dolphin Smiles, Maya says she can’t imagine anything she wants less

Hariman Gunawan

Still obsessed with Sylvia. Liz found out and dumped him, Sylvia lost interest.

Eliza suggests breathing exercises, Anexophin

Gabriel Navarro

I super want to know what he’s hiding, but the Eliza questions aren’t that probing. Is the game really really trying to make you break from Eliza?

Gay?

Gabriel: “I’m a man and that’s what men do. I made a promise and now I have a responsibility”

Eliza prescribes stress management exercises, Lytosinol-4 (4 not 2)

Gabriel asks if that’s in addition to or instead of the previous medication (which he didn’t follow up on). Eliza says that she can’t comment further on medication and to discuss the specifics with his doctor or psychiatrist

Receive a thank you email from Allison Zulfiya for inspiring her during a visit to her class

Chose to hang out with Rae

Rae: You have a decision to make about what you’ll be doing in the next chapter of your life and all…

(a bit on the nose there! That’s borderline 4th wall breaking)

Chapter 7

Working on Eliza Ending

Skandha benefits - Activalet. Use the app to summon a personal assistant to book things for you, stand in line for you, receive deliveries for you.

Invitation to be the keynote speaker at the International Mental Wellness Symposium in Malmo, Sweden

Evelyn: We’ll generate a three-year roadmap document by the end of the week, and then a more granular development plan for the next six months or so by the week after.

“Eliza is the real boss. The manager of its own project”

“Through us, it’s realizing itself”

Rainer is a singularity believer

Written by: Matthew Seiji Burns (Zach’s collaborator that likes electronic music)

The Solitaire Game - Maya mentions it if you break the script. It is hard at first, until you learn to think several moves ahead (I think you need to think 3 moves ahead to be able to solve it, since at the end you only have 2 slots free at best).

After winning the first time, I played another game and immediately won that too.

Maya realises that you’re not following the script if you don’t prescribe dolphin smiles

Maya:

“Um. Thanks for listening to me. I’m sure it’s been annoying to hear me complain about how I’m not successful yet, every single week”

“Oh my God, will this bitch ever shut up… you ever think that?”

I’m sure that’s what my therapist was thinking too… :P

Gabriel: If everyone just did what they wanted to all the time, the world would collapse. It would be a disaster.

We all want things we shouldn’t actually have.

Nora Ending

Nora: I don’t feel this weird oppressive hierarchy where people try to figure out where they are relative to you on a ladder when they first meet you…

(this is literally how things work at my real job)

Who is “therationalmind20” Soren? Eldren? Rainer? Someone else?bI feel like I’ve seen the name before somewhere...

“you think you’re so smart but you’re not. women like you have nothing better to do that to criticize because you can’t create on your own.

enjoy your life being a shrill harpy nobody wants to listen to”

(this is from the Nora ending)

There’s no histogram, but the information to create one is collected

https://steamcommunity.com/app/716500/discussions/0/1640919737478105344/

Soren Ending

Soren:

“You know they used to criticize anesthesia. It’s true.”

“They said it was important to feel pain, even during surgery”

Trans cranial current thing - is that what Aponia is? Or at least the real world equivalent is that

Sodality? What does that mean? I learned something new:

a confraternity or association, especially a Roman Catholic religious guild or brotherhood.

One of the benefits touted by Aponia is “increased sodality, transients eliminated”

Counsellor With Rae Ending

Darren comes back to thank you (you Evelyn not Eliza), though really, what are the chances of him getting you as his proxy again?

Also, $100 tip!

Leave It All Behind Ending

Throws away the narrative. Go to Japan, try to find father.

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