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bottombaron · 3 years ago

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the high school Winterbaron au that I'll never write~

Zemo transfers to an American school. his father caught him attending a protest and he can't have him undermining the Sokovian government so now Zemo is living at his estranged mother's house in America.

his mother, being American, means Zemo has dual citizenship. her and his father are separated but not divorced. (Zemo hadn't seen her since she left them when he was four so their relationship isn't great)

Bucky is part of the large friend group of avenger characters (Steve, Tony, Bruce, Thor etc.) but he feels left out. it used to be just him, Steve, Natasha, and then later Sam. but now Steve is being pulled away by friends like Tony and girlfriend Peggy. Bucky has Sam and Natasha, but Nat is closer with Clint and Sam is naturally more outgoing and popular than Bucky is, with his own friends.

basically Bucky is feeling lonely as fuck.

due to a complex powder-keg of racism, American ignorance (on the avenger's side), and an already deep-seated resentment of the Starks' and the American forces bombing Sokovia (on Zemo's side): him and the 'avengers group' do not get along and are instantly at each other's throats

Zemo is constantly causing mayhem at school and trying to get kicked out and sent back home. everyone pretty much hates him and he's fine with that.

*vague plot hand wave* something happens, a bet between Zemo and the 'avengers' ends up with Zemo getting to take one of them out on a date and they have do what he says for the day

he chooses Bucky and everyone is thrown

Bucky hardly knows this guy and Steve and Tony thought it would be one of them. they try to refuse on his behalf but Bucky's not that bothered, '*shrug* he's like, what? 5 even?? (he's not) I could just pick him up and throw him if he tried anything (he could do that tho), i'll be fine.'

Bucky feels weird about it more because he's not a part of this fucking drama and now he feels like he's been made the center of it

Steve and Tony are fighting over his involvement in this mess (Steve is protective, Tony is dismissive) and Bucky is just tiRED

Zemo had simply noticed Bucky was being abandoned by his friends and thought he looked lonely like him. but he's also a little shit and too busy playing the villain (and having a blast thank you very much) to drop the façade

so Bucky and Zemo agree to meet at a mall for a 'date'

the mall Zemo chooses is huge and luxurious and Bucky already feels uncomfortable in it. he sits and waits in the food court where there's at least a Hot Dog on a Stick he can feel a little within his financial comforts

Zemo finds him and they're off walking the mall

they bicker, they banter, and of course Zemo is fucking weird. he's acting like they've been friends for years and excitedly showing Bucky all the window displays like Bucky isn't (technically) there against his will. but it's not uncomfortable enough that he isn't starting to catch onto Zemo's chaotic rhythm and enjoy himself a little

they start to talk in that sarcastic playfully teasing way. Bucky's dry wit and Zemo's sharp flirty replies work really well together and they're actually kind of having a good time

until Zemo reminds Bucky he has to do what he says for the day and takes him to a really fancy boutique and informs Bucky that his task is to try on some clothes with Zemo

Bucky instantly feels panic when he's in the store, it's too big and too crowded and there's actual security guards in three piece suits giving him the most judgmental looks as if he's a criminal

everyone knows he doesn't belong there and that he's small and dirty

he starts to have a panic attack

Zemo notices and pulls Bucky into a corner of the store, hands him a bottle of water and instructs him to focus on drinking the bottle up to the label. every sip of water he must take a deep breath like he's coming up for air in a pool. let it out. and take another sip. and repeat.

Zemo tells Bucky he's going to be right back and leaves to talk to someone important

Bucky doesn't notice when everyone starts to leave the shop

the doors close, the lights dim, the music stops playing current pop and plays something soft and old. when Zemo comes back Bucky is feeling a lot better

Zemo says he talked with the manager and they told him he and Bucky could have the next couple of hours by themselves in the shop, if Bucky was still willing that is

Bucky feels embarrassed but Zemo starts ranting about everything that's triggering in the store, like it was everyone else's fault and not Buckys'. it makes him feel less ashamed. 'it's these florescent lights, the doormen were assholes, that music hurt my head too, etc'. like what Bucky had just went through was perfectly normal and not something bad Bucky did on purpose or for attention like people normally make him feel.

he doesn't question how Zemo got everyone to leave and the store to soften (he actually doesn't know Zemo is rich, he never bothered to know Zemo at all. he was just the guy everyone at school hated)

the two of them spend the time running around like children with the store all to themselves, the only other person a butler-like-attendant that serves them champaign and cashews.

Bucky braces for Zemo to dress him up like he promised he would. he's expecting a trim three piece suit that Zemo was eyeing earlier or something equally uncomfortable. but with how surprisingly well Zemo had been treating him Bucky feels like he can indulge a small dress up party for the guy

he's surprised again when Zemo's wardrobe choices for him are sinfully soft cotton jeans, t-shirts, and the sexiest leather jacket he's even seen

they're clothes Bucky would have picked for himself and he feels great in them

Zemo for his part steps out of the dressing room looking like Elton John meets Cruella DeVil

the ugliest purple fur coat, heels with gold accents, and a crop top that says 'break my hole not my heart' on it

Bucky: that is the ugliest fucking outfit I've ever seen

Zemo: thank you, I love it 😎

Bucky asks why he wasn't forced to wear something more high fashion, Zemo answers that, 'while I would love to see you in a suit I know you wouldn't be comfortable in one. attractiveness is about comfort. my style isn't yours. I'm comfortable in things that you would never be in which is why I make this look good. and you look exquisite in that.'

Bucky blushes but doesn't disagree. he does however tease Zemo about his outfit. 'are you sure you actually pull that off?'

Zemo: oh hunny, I'm fuckable in anything

Bucky switches into his old clothes and whistles when he sees the price tag. 'I could never afford this' Zemo looks, 'ah yes , that is quite the ridiculous mark up.'

Zemo: which is why I was planning on stealing it ;3

and then he runs out of the store with all the clothes he picked out for Bucky, still in his gaudy outfit

Bucky is dumbfounded but quickly runs after him and they stop only after they're at the other end of the mall, out of breath

Bucky: the actual fuck, Zemo!

Zemo: *is wearing his ~who me? I've never done anything wrong in my cute little life~ face* :3

Zemo explains shoplifting is good actually fuck capitalism

and doesn't explain that the reason why they had control of the store in the first place is because his father is an investor and everything they ran out with was technically already bought the moment they touched it

but he doesn't want Bucky to feel indebted for the clothes or make him feel like he needs charity. and rebellion (even pretend rebellion) is funner

Bucky suspects everything is fine anyway because he's not an idiot but it's funner to pretend for him too

the fantasy world that they've created outside of their actual lives and drama, in this mall, on this day, is freeing

Zemo releases Bucky of their deal, the time having been completed

Bucky, instead of leaving, takes Zemo's wrist and guides him to Hot Dog on a Stick at the food court

he treats him to a $5 dinner and watches, trying not to laugh, as Zemo attempts to eat a corndog with mustard in a pair of white Versace cashmere pants

it's the best date he's ever had

#winterbaron #bucky x zemo #zemo x bucky #zemo #helmut zemo #bucky barnes #sad days being the one to write a hs!au fic for comfort #hell not even a full fic #a ficlet?#anyways thanks for reading!#if anyone wants this to write yourself you're welcome to it 😊#i regret posting this without a readmore jesus this is long in the browser sry

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aeipcthys · 3 years ago

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╰ ❛ 💉 — › timothy olyphant. cis-male. he/him. ╯ have you met patrick vanderbilt yet ? this forty seven year old libra has been living in the seattle area for not long. she makes a living as shareholder & board member, which is best suited for their debonair, candid, arrogant, and vindictive personality. come and get your love by redbone is one of their favorite songs.

trigger warnings: cancer, death

full character page here

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: patrick charles vanderbilt

Nickname(s): sometimes he’ll get a pat

Age: 47

Date of Birth: september 23, 1974

Hometown: upper east side, new york, ny

Current Location: seattle, washington

Ethnicity: caucasian (english, german, scottish, dutch)

Nationality: american

Gender: cisgender male

Pronouns: he/him/his

Orientation: heterosexual, heteroromantic

Status: married lol

Religion: protestant

Political Affiliation: idk he’s rich

Occupation: ceo of the vanderbilt group (shareholder & board member @ sgmw)

Living Arrangements: a spare penthouse

Language(s) Spoken: english

Accent: american

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: timothy olyphant josh duhamel

Hair Color: was brown, now greying (silver fox mayhaps?)

Eye Color: brown

Height: 6′0

Build: fit

Tattoos: nope

Piercings: no

Clothing Style: expensive suits, expensive watch, you know...someone who has money

Usual Expression: idk some stupid expression bc he’s an idiot

Distinguishing Characteristics:

HEALTH

Physical Ailments: none.

Neurological Conditions: none.

Allergies: he’s probably lactose intolerant or something stupid but ignores it

Sleeping Habits: he sleeps on high thread count egyptian cotton sheets

Eating Habits: he says he eats well but ends up “cheating” in his office at like 4pm and his assistant pretends she doesn’t know

Exercise Habits: a run here, some weights there

Emotional Stability: pffft

Sociability: outgoing, charming, stupid man

Body Temperature: i never know what to say for this he’s like average

Addictions: none.

Drug Use: not anymore

Alcohol Use: for sure

PERSONALITY

Label: big ego, hidden depths

Positive Traits: debonair, candid, ambitious, dynamic

Negative Traits: arrogant, vindictive, greedy, impatient

Fears: oddly enough, clowns...acts like a child when he sees one

Hobbies: he has like rich people hobbies (skiing on vacation, traveling, pretending he was a self-made-man)

Habits: tbd

FAVOURITES

Weather: he likes a crisp breeze

Colour: he thinks having a favorite color is childish

Music: sings along to the radio when he's driving alone, most likely to an 80s hit or two

Movies: something stimulating

Sport: american football

Beverage: single malt scotch

Food: steak

Animal: idk i don’t think he’s a fan

FAMILY

Father: wallace vanderbilt

Mother: mary ellen vanderbilt (née duncan)

Sibling(s): aaron vanderbilt, eric vanderbilt (deceased)

Children: natalie vanderbilt (23), patrick jr. vanderbilt (7)

Pet(s): none.

Family’s Financial Status: money money money

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: libra

MBTI: entj

Anything Else:

BIO

Patrick Vanderbilt was born to Wallace and Mary Ellen Vanderbilt on September 23, 1974. He grew up being the oldest of three children — his younger brother, Aaron and their little sister, Erica. The Vanderbilts were far from a ‘self-made’ family. They came from old money. Generations that never knew anything but good fortune and wealth.

Being the eldest son, Patrick knew from a young age what the expectations of him were. He was to be successful. Running the Vanderbilt Group was his birthright, and it would one day be his reality. There was nothing in his youth that made Patrick want to shy away from that responsibility. Instead, he embraced it. He watched it all so intently. His father in business meetings. The ribbon cutting at a new hospital. His family’s name plastered on the front page of the paper. It all seemed so glamorous. Important. And Patrick wanted to be important. He wanted to <I> show </I> that he deserved to be important.

This propelled him to become the over-achiever, living-on-a-pedestal older brother. His parents were proud, but his father was more proud that Patrick fit the mold. Patrick believed that his father just wanted what was best for them. So what if he road them too hard? So what if it was hard to meet his expectations? It just push them to do better. To want better. At least, it did that for Patrick.

Patrick’s younger brother, Aaron, always rejected the family plan. He didn’t want the future that had been prescribed to them. He was the first of them to rebel. Erica was always the quiet one. She’d be the one to break up the fights the boys would have. One look, and she had them both. It was her power and her strength.

Patrick was in high school when Erica was diagnosed with leukemia. She was so young. He couldn’t believe that such a devastating thing could happen to such a tiny human being. They had the best that medicine could buy, and yet? Erica never seemed to get any better. He spent time in between football practices and debate team meetings reading to her in her hospital bed. She’d laugh, she’d smile. And he would melt inside. His little sister was stronger and wiser than he could ever hope to be. This he knew. Right up until the day that she died.

Things were never the same after that. Aaron distanced himself. It was all he knew how to do. For the first time, Patrick questioned everything. He left home for college, a little piece of him having been shattered by the loss of his sister. It was in this time that he met Cecilia. Kind and smart. As beautiful as anything. She was the first person he ever connected with in that way. He was infatuated with everything about her. There had never been anything that made him want to rebel from his destined path…until her.

Patrick told his father about Cecilia, and immediately, they began to fight over her. Patrick was supposed to stay focused. Focused on the goal. But ever since the loss of Erica and the meeting of Cecilia, he began to lose sight of just what that goal was supposed to be. Patrick was going to be with Cecilia no matter what. And to make sure of it, the two made a spontaneous decision. They got married.

Young, in love, and stubborn, Patrick and Cecilia eloped. Much to the dismay of both of their families. But they persevered, thinking their love was enough to power through. Times got tough, but Patrick and Cecilia persevered. They made it through college graduation, Patrick went on to law school, and they tried their best to start a family. But they weren’t young and dumb anymore. They had real responsibilities that started to pile up. Mostly for Patrick. He had responsibilities to fulfill with the family business. Cecilia had dreams of her own. Dreams she put on hold for him. She started to wonder if she wanted to anymore.

They were only 24 when Cecilia got pregnant. She gave birth to their daughter, Natalie Erica Vanderbilt. Natalie was a beautiful light in his life, but Patrick began to struggle to balance work and home life. It was no wonder that things began to fall apart. Eventually, Cecilia and Patrick realized they couldn’t keep lying to themselves. Their marriage ended. It was amicable, and they split custody with Natalie.

Given his new sense of freedom, Patrick began to throw himself back into work. Back into the plan. He made peace with it. This was his future, and if it was what he had to do, he was going to excel at it. He got his degrees, and began to work up through the company (which obviously was not difficult, given his name was on the building). He enjoyed his time with the finer things in life, spoiling his daughter when it was his time. Dating elite women and minor celebrities every other weekend. It was the life of a rich bachelor. He developed the personality to go along with it. He was charming, but also a bit of a dick. It was a fine balance to find.

He hadn’t been drawn to anyone since Cecilia. Not until he met Talia Moradi. She was strong and tenacious. Her smile drew him in. Working together, Patrick knew he wanted to be closer to her. And he would take every opportunity to woo her. Win her affections. Talia and Patrick began to date, and following her promotion, things started to advance. Marriage was the likely next step. With Talia on his arm, Patrick felt like he completed the perfect picture. She gave birth to their son, Patrick Jr., and there wasn’t much else they could ask for. Patrick already had the world. And finally taking over the company from his father was just the cherry on top.

CURRENTLY

Things were never perfect, but the filing for divorce shattered the image he had in his mind. Part of him resented Talia for what she had done. He felt like a pawn. A tool she had used to get ahead, all while she had been into someone else. But he still had some plays left in him. He didn’t have to give her the easy divorce she desired. He didn’t even have to let her be in Seattle alone. It was about time he checked in on the goings on at SGMW. Seeing how he was a shareholder and all. And if Talia and her ex happened to be on the board as well? Well, the more the merrier. Patrick couldn’t go down so easy. At least, not without a fight.

#( character intro. )#fortune running out of my veins ( patrick vanderbilt. )

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rhyming-fellowship · 3 years ago

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If Flynn had been there, it wouldn’t have happened. She will maintain that until the day she died, and going by the presence of their ghostly friends, for long after death as well. But Flynn wasn’t there, so when one of the labels they’d tentatively been looking at said they needed to reach out to the boys to make sure they signed as well, Julie was stuck with her own lying skills - which hadn’t improved in the three years she’d known the guys - and the Greek chorus of himbos that called themselves her band.

“Tell them we don’t have the internet.”

“No, that we’re dead!”

“We trust you; you can just sign for us.”

They weren’t especially helpful. Of course, what came out of Julie’s mouth was equally bad, so she really can’t talk.

“They only speak Swedish…?”

Behind her, she heard Alex groan, but his idea had been that the hologram band that regularly streamed into their performances didn’t have internet. Not speaking English wasn’t terrible in comparison.

“I didn’t know you spoke Swedish!” The label exec said at the same time as Reggie. There was the definite sound of hand hitting head, which either meant Alex facepalmed or he slapped Reggie. Either way, there would be no support from them.

“I don’t? We just… use a lot of Google translate?” God she wished she could stop making everything sound like a question.

“Wow! Well, no worries, we can get a translator. Can you give me their info?”

“Haha, for sure!” Julie said, the rushing in her ears growing louder in the quiet office space. "The only thing is I can't spell their names, you know with all of the... special letters? So, um, I'll set up a Zoom meeting for you guys to meet?" Maybe it was a good thing she kept digging the hole deeper, soon it would be big enough for her to live in so she'd never have to see these people again.

“Your eyes are doing the panic thing, Julie. Want a distraction?” Luke whispered next to her. She nodded hurriedly and when the fire alarm went off a few seconds later, she was out of the office before anyone could stop her.

“So… fuck. Am I right?” Alex casually loped along next to her as she ran down the street, getting as far away from the building as she could before she called her dad for a ride.

“Someone’s going to have to learn Swedish,” Luke said, laughter in his voice, and Julie couldn’t help but look at him and grin.

“There are probably better ways to go about it, we just need to think of one.”

Somewhat unsurprisingly, they couldn’t.

Luckily, Reggie, it turned out, was surprisingly good with languages. Alex was too anxious to speak to anyone in anything other than English, and Luke was great at hearing the slight tonal changes when listening but tended to just throw out whichever words felt right when speaking. Reggie, though, would meet someone who didn’t speak English and hang out with them for a few months, or he’d get obsessed with a show in another language, and next thing they knew he was conversational with a perfect accent; just so long as he didn’t have to spell anything.

So Reggie disappeared to go live in Sweden for a few months, coming back every few days with a new story about the family whose house he was haunting. (They have four horses! And two dogs! And they have blueberry soup sometimes that made him wish he could eat again!) Meanwhile, Julie set up a Zoom meeting as far into the future as she could, and cancelled it a few times, pushing the meeting farther and farther away to give him time to become at least passable.

And they practiced. She and Luke and Alex worked for hours to see how involved they have to be in the singing to be visible. If they could be in separate rooms and still show up on the camera. If the guys could ignore Julie’s pull long enough to make this work. It wasn’t easy, but by the time the meeting came around, they’ve figured out the best song, set up the studio in a style they’re hoping looks vaguely Swedish, and given Luke and Alex several crash courses on how to work Zoom so that they don’t look like people who are stuck in the 90s.

At least technologically speaking. Three years later and she still couldn’t convince them to wear something from this century.

“Everyone ready?” Flynn asked, standing between the couch the boys are on and the table they’d dragged in for Julie to sit at across from them. With a collective nod, they started humming together and logged into the meeting where they were immediately met with the label execs (Nadya and Micah) and someone new.

The translator.

“Hej!” Nadya said happily, waving, “I’m glad we could all finally meet up. And I was sorry to hear about your illness, Reggie. It sounded… unpleasant.” Reggie just smiled blankly at her as the translator spoke, then continued to smile blankly.

Luke elbowed him and leaned over to whisper, “We told her you had violent food poisoning and were shitting yourself,” he paused, “We might have panicked a lot thinking up the excuse and then Alex cried after because, you know, food poisoning.” Alex reached behind Reggie and shoved Luke off the couch. Micah and Nadya kindly pretended not to notice the scuffle as Reggie finally unmuted to thank them for their well wishes.

“So, boys, Julie hasn’t mentioned a lot about you, why don’t you introduce yourselves and where you’re from,” Micah said, staring at them expectantly and Julie’s heart sank. They’d planned for Reggie to have a passable accent, for him to be able to speak well enough that the translator wouldn’t notice and to brush off missteps with an excuse of a bad connection. They hadn’t planned for Reggie to have to know anything about Sweden. But he pulled it together, mostly talking about the small town where he’d been, telling a touching tale of the three of them meeting at choir practice in the middle of winter and starting a band to get through the long dark months.

It was a surprisingly good story and Julie had just started to relax when Nadya spoke up.

“And what are your last names again?”

Deer in headlights, all three of them. (A small voice in the back of her head says Reindeer in headlights and she has to stop herself from giggling hysterically.)

“Skarsgård,” Alex said first, stretching it out in a way that spoke of immediate regret.

“Alexander Skarsgård?” Micah asked, “Like the actor?”

Alex shook his head quickly and muted the call, “What do I say?”

“Just tell them it’s a common Swedish last name!” Luke said and Alex was just about to unmute when Flynn stopped him.

“You can’t speak English or Swedish. Reggie has to tell them.”

“Oh thank god,” he muttered, letting Reggie take over, and then it was time for Luke and Reggie to reveal their last names and Julie was just waiting for one of them to say their last name was ‘Sweden.’ Somehow what happened was both better and infinitely worse.

“My last name is Pettersson,” Reggie said happily, choosing the name of the family he’d taken a shine to, still pleased it was so close to his own last name. Then he looked at Luke and paused, seeming to realize, “And his last name is also Pettersson. Because we are... brothers?”

Well, at least Julie wasn’t the only one making statements into questions.

“That’s awesome, we should definitely leverage that in our marketing,” Nadya said, writing something down, and then the meeting was ending and they gave some vague promises about their next meeting and Julie could have cried in happiness.

They’d done it. Three American ghosts pretended to be three Swedish lifers and no one had to know. Luke leapt off the couch, pulling everyone into a hug of sheer relief, and that’s how Carlos found them a few minutes later.

“Why are you guys always so weird?” he asked, unable to see the guys, but noticing Julie's awkward empty air hug.

“We’re celebrating!” Flynn said, launching into an explanation about their plan; from Reggie learning Swedish to their attempt at Swedish decor in the studio.

“Why didn’t you just give them email addresses?” he asked when she was finished. “Lots of people sign contracts digitally without ever seeing the person on the other end.”

“Oh. My. God.” Julie slowly dropped to the couch. “Fucking email addresses.”

There was a beat of silence in the studio, then Flynn snorted. “Finding an unused email address for the name Alexander Skarsgård is going to be hell.”

After months of stress, it felt good to laugh.

Even if they were all idiots.

You can find this fic and the rest in my series of band shenanigans on Ao3 here!

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #my fic #julie molina #Reggie Peters #luke patterson #Alex Mercer #Flynn Taylor #Carlos Molina #jatp fanfic

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 4 years ago

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~Whiskey Lullaby~

~Chapter 11~

Image credit: Myself @badwolf-in-the-impala. None of the images are mine, only the editing.

Previous Chapters: ((Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10))

Rating: Mature/18+

Warnings: Alcohol and drug use/abuse, violence, suggested physical/sexual abuse, kidnapping, sexual content, angst...So much angst.

Chapter warnings: Language, smoking, someone gets punched in the face and a whole lotta feels.

Word count: 4,264

A/N: I’m a shitty person when it comes to posting, I’m sorry...I also forget this chapter even existed. Oops. x_x Also huge shoutout to @jacksonroseroth who helped in the making of this chapter and always comes to my recue when I get stuck writing! ^-^

-----------------------------------

Once they were sure Tawni had left the room, Tig gave Teagan one last hug before jetting off, having gotten a text to meet the guys in the chapel. Teagan bit back her tears, having enough with crying for the day as she sat down in the chair beside Chibs’ bed. The steady beeping of the EKG machine drummed in her head as she sat there in silence. He wasn’t out of the woods, but he wasn’t dead. Her only regret was he hadn’t woken up yet so he could talk to her. Teagan just wanted to hear his voice right now, more than anything.

“God...I’ve really fucked it up this time.” She gave a bitter laugh as she shook her head, leaning her elbows forward onto the edge of the bed as she cradled her head in her hands. “I feel like this is all my fault, and the two people I trust and care about most? Well, Tawni hates me; And you?”

Teagan let out a long sigh as she ran a hand through her dark hair, looking up to study a very unconscious Chibs. His head bandaged and face scraped in places from where he hit the ground during the explosion. He looked so broken and helpless lying in a hospital bed compared to his usual tough exterior that everyone saw.

“Well -- You almost died.” She finally whispered, catching a stray tear with the back of her sleeve. “Shit, you still could. Please don’t.” Teagan choked out a sob as she took his hand gently, her voice going soft as she spoke to him. The fact that he likely couldn’t hear her briefly crossed her mind as she chewed her lower lip anxiously, but she continued anyway.

“There’s so much I need to tell you still...Things I should’ve told you already, probably, if I wasn’t so shit at talking about my feelings.” Teagan admitted guiltily. “Things I’m scared to admit because I’ve been here before, and I fucking swore to myself; I fucking swore! That I wouldn’t go down this road again. But alas, here I am. God I’m an idiot.”

Things fell silent again for a little while, the steady beeping of the EKG machine being the only noise to fill the room once more. Teagan not knowing how to continue on, not that it mattered anyway. Chibs was unconscious and he would likely remain that way for quite a while. But the bigger question that had been weighing heavily on her mind -- Especially following her blow up with Tawni -- was not so much her own feelings, but his. It wasn’t something she had really even considered bringing up yet, what with everything that had been going on. But now? Now she wondered.

Just what exactly was it that he saw he saw in her? I mean sure, it wasn’t like things were really that serious between them, but they were serious enough that he cared for her well being. Her safety even. He cared enough to help her put herself back together every time she fell apart, even though he barely knew anything about her. Save for the story that had been pieced together all those years ago when she left Charming. The story that everyone knew so well. The story, that was only half truth.

Teagan could feel the tears beginning to prick behind her eyes again, forcing herself to draw in a few deep breaths as she tightened her grip on Chibs’ hand, trying her best to ground her emotions again. But her voice still faltered as she spoke aloud the question she wasn’t certain would ever be answered.

“What is it exactly that you see in me?” Tegan whispered. Her brows pulled tightly together in confusion as she ran a thumb carefully across his scared cheek and down his jawline before allowing her hand to fall away. Before Teagan could say anything else, the door swung open, making her jump. She quickly pulled her hand away and wiped her face as she stood. “Sorry, Doc. I just wanted to-”

As Teagan turned, expecting Tara to be standing in the doorway, she, instead, came face to face with an older, darker skinned woman with black hair that had begun to salt and pepper, holding onto the bag slung over her shoulder with a hip popped, hand propped on it, with a posh and annoyed look on her face.

“Oh. Um, sorry. I thought you were--Who are you?” Teagan asked, slightly confused. She’d never seen this woman around the clubhouse before and Chibs never mentioned any woman that even came close to what she looked like.

“I think the question here would be who the hell are you?” She asked, a thick Irish accent coming through. Teagan’s eyes shrunk back.

Oh, God, not another one. Teagan thought. She’d never met Tawni’s mother and she hoped to God this wasn’t her. Granted Tawni was as pale as the day was long, but stranger things have happened. Taken aback by the woman, Teagan blinked and cleared her throat before she said, “Um, I’m-I’m Teagan?”

The woman pursed her lips and gave a soft ‘Mhm’ as she rounded the bed and set her bag down. Tossing her dark mane over her shoulder, she turned back to Teagan and said, “And would ye mind tellin’ me why yeh’re so broken and upset over m’husband’s accident? And why you were touchin’ him like that?”

It took everything Teagan had to not let her mouth drop open in shock and start yelling. Chibs never once mentioned he had a wife. Not when he held her that first night, not when she spent multiple nights in his bed. He didn't even bother to tell her when they were mere articles of clothing away from doing the do.

‘Alright…That puts a new spin on shit.’ Teagan thought, not trusting herself enough to say anything out loud just yet. Teagan opened her mouth to explain, but the woman cut her off with a wave of her hand and said, “No. Don’t tell me. I don’ need ta’hear any lies out’o a Crow Eaters mouth.”

“Excuse me?!” Teagan shrieked. That one label sent her over the edge. She did her share of whoring around when she was younger, but goddamnit! She was the sister of one of the members! She was as far from a Crow Eater as you could get without being an Old Lady! “Listen, who the hell do you think you are?! You don’t know me!”

“Oh, sure, please!” The woman shouted back. “I know Filip has his fun wit’ you American girls. But never once has one o’them shown their face when I’m around!”

Teagan was about to channel Tawni and reach across Chibs’ bed for a right hook to her face, when a nurse hurried in through the open door.

“What is going on? ICU is for immediate family only!” She said. Teagan opened her mouth to lie and say she was family, but the Irish woman beat her to it with, “I’m his wife.”

The nurse gave her a sweet smile and nodded before turning to Teagan and saying, “Miss Trager, you need to leave. Dr. Knowles is looking for you anyway.”

Teagan huffed at the nurse, shooting daggers at the woman before turning on her heel and marching out of the room.

Gemma had lost track of Teagan after reprimanding Jax and just prayed that Teagan didn't end up running back into Tawni. She really didn't need to deal with an angry Irish girl and a Trager, at least not at the same time. The last thing they needed was an all out brawl between a couple of hot headed biker chicks on hospital grounds. But after checking around with a few of the guys, she confirmed that Tawni had indeed gone back to the Clubhouse. And judging from the commotion coming from down the hall nearest Chibs’ room, Gemma could only guess that’s where Teagan had ended up.

“Shit.” Gemma muttered under her breath as she quickened her pace as she moved towards whatever in the hell was going on; Stepping back just in time as Teagan blew around the corner and passed her, Tara hot on her heels trying her best to stop her.

“I’m serious, Teagan, you really need to stay overnight for observation! You have a concussion for Christ sake, just let me help!” Tara tried to reason.

“I don’t fucking need anymore help!” Teagan stopped so suddenly that Tara almost smacked right into her. Taking a quick step back with a wide eyed expression as Teagan rounded on her like a viper about to strike its prey.

“Hey! Knock it the hell off!” Gemma managed to butt in between the two, putting a hand to Teagan’s chest as she pushed her back. “This isn’t the goddamn WWE. Now why don’t you calm down and tell me what the hell is going on?”

“He has a fuckin’ wife!” Teagan all but screeched before storming off down the hall towards the exit to the stairs. ‘Explains a lot.’ Gemma thought to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose as she turned to face Tara. “I got it from here, Doc.”

“Good luck.” Tara called after her as Gemma took off after Teagan, catching her on the stairs.

“Wanna slow down before I have a fucking heart attack?” Gemma shouted as she struggled to catch up in hopes of talking Teagan out of whatever in the hell she was about to do.

“Fuck off, Gem!” Teagan shouted back as she hit the last flight of stairs and made her break for the door. Gemma caught her by the arm just as she was stepping outside. “Seriously, Gem, I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

“And what is it exactly you think I’m gonna say?” Gemma shot back, hands flying to her hips as she gave Teagan an irritated and disapproving look.

“I don’t fucking know!?” Teagan yelled as she fished around in her pockets angrily for her pack of smokes, struggling to light one as her hands trembled from all the emotions coursing through her. So angry at this point she could hardly see straight. “I told you so? You’re a fucking idiot? Stay away and stop getting involved with the fucking Club members?!”

Teagan gave a brief pause as she took a long drag off of her cigarette, running a hand aggressively through her dark hair as she exhaled. “Jesus, fuck; Why didn’t you tell me he had a fucking wife?!” She rounded on Gemma, who stood still as a statue, waiting for her moment to interject.

“Maybe ‘cause it ain’t my place, for starters.” Gemma snapped. “And before you go jumping on that fuckin’ high horse of yours, maybe take a step back and think? It’s not like he fuckin’ knows shit about your own past, aside from the bullshit story everyone else knows. So why would he feel obligated to tell you anything about his? Especially when you two aren’t even exclusive. I mean Jesus, Teag, have you two even talked about your feelings?”

“No…” Teagan admitted reluctantly, taking another drag off the cigarette burning between her fingers as she turned her back. Gemma had a point, even if Teagan didn’t want to admit it. But that didn’t change the fact she felt lied to. Betrayed even. Even if Chibs was never hers to begin with, it didn’t change the fact that he had kept this very important bit of information from her.

“Then why should it matter?” Gemma stated. “His business is his business, nobody else’s!”

“He’s fuckin’ married, Gem!” Teagan shouted as she whirled around, seething again. “I don’t give two fucking shits why, or what his reasonings for not telling me are, that’s not something you just keep from the person you’re getting involved with!”

“Jesus Christ…” Gemma gave a frustrated sigh as she closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Teage--”

“NO, Gemma, I’m done. I’m.Fucking.Done.” Teagan cut her off before taking one last drag, flicking the cigarette butt to the sidewalk as she began looking around for a way back to the Clubhouse. Panic setting in as she realized everyone had gone home except for Gemma.

“Look, Sweetheart, I know you’re upset, and don’t get me wrong, you have every right to be--But this ain’t the time.”

“Seriously, just save it! OK?” Teagan snapped, closing her eyes as she rubbed at her temples. A sudden wave of dizziness hitting her out of nowhere.

“You need to calm down…Let’s just go back inside for a bit till you cool off.” Gemma stated firmly as she moved to take Teagan by the arm and lead her back inside. Gritting her teeth as Teagan pushed her way.

“I’m fine...Gem…” Teagan shot back as she pulled away, reaching a hand out to steady herself against the pillar in front of her as the edges of her vision started to blur. But by then, it was already too late. Her hand missed the pillar entirely and her vision quickly went black as she fell to the ground, Gemma managing to grab her before her head hit the concrete.

“Shit…” Gemma muttered as she laid Teagan carefully on the sidewalk before rushing back inside the hospital to grab a nurse.

The slow and steady beeping filled her ears as Teagan came to, finally hooked up to monitors and IVs. She let out a soft groan as the EKG beeps began to pound against her skull. Before she could have any other reaction, from the corner, almost making her jump and fall out of bed, she heard Gemma say, “Oh, good. You’re not dead.”

“Jesus Fuck, Gemma!” Teagan shouted, the EKG beeping wildly for a moment or two before the steady pace continued. Teagan sighed and tried to move but found it rather painful with needles sticking out of her arms. She sighed and shifted, trying to get a better look at her surroundings. “Why am I still here?”

Gemma slapped down the magazine in her hand and crossed her legs. “Because you almost took a fuckin’ cement nap if I hadn’t caught you, Teagan Marie.” She said. Teagan let out another groan.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Gemma! Not the middle name shit! I got that enough growing up!” She said. Gemma uncrossed her legs and stood, stalking over to her bed.

“I don’t give a shit what you got growing up, missy.” Gemma said. “You’ve done enough damage, you don’t need any more in your life. You don’t want me to treat you like you did growing up? Then fuckin’ grow up!”

Gemma walked away from the bed and grabbed her purse from the table next to her chair and made for the door. With her emotions running high, probably from the drugs Tara put her on, Teagan fought her tears, though they came through as she said, “Wait...Gem. Please don’t leave me alone…”

Gemma stopped and turned to her. Teagan couldn’t stop the tears seeping from the corners of her eyes as she struggled not to completely break down and sob. Gemma sighed and set her bag back down, going back over to her and taking her hand.

“Teagan...This is serious shit we’re in right now. And if you’re gonna stick around, you’ll be involved. Do you really think it’s a good idea to get involved with Chibs? Let alone any member right now?” Gemma asked, lowering her voice to a softer tone. Teagan sighed, looking away from Gemma, angry with herself for crying again.

“I don’t know, Gem. It-It’s different this time. With Chibs.” She said. “He doesn’t treat me like I’m a no good degenerate like everyone else does.”

“Oh, baby.” Gemma said with a soft chuckle. “That’s not true; Jax doesn’t. Tawni never did. Clay doesn’t. I don't.”

Teagan gave her a look that made Gemma smirk and add, “Alright...Not all the time. But still, Teagan, I mean…”

“Gemma.” Teagan took a breath and said, “I think I might be in love with him.”

Gemma blinked, shocked, and said, “Are-Are you serious? Jesus, Teage, you’ve known him for like, a month.”

Teagan rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fuck. Gemma. I’m trying to be fucking happy for once in my life! Genuinely happy! And he’s fucking married!” Teagan said.

“Honey. That’s never stopped him before. Jimmy O’Phelan stole Fiona from Chibs before he exiled him from Ireland. Sure he still loves her, but...Well, he has needs too. He’s had relationships in the past. It doesn’t bother him. Why should it bother you?” Gemma asked.

“Maybe because I don’t want to be called a fucking Crow Eater by that bitch again?” Teagan hissed, her anger getting the better of her and making the EKG go off again. Gemma sighed and said, “Alright, honey, you need to calm down. If you want the Doc to clear you to leave, you’ve gotta get that anger under control.”

Teagan sighed and nodded, closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Good God, did she want to get out of this fucking hospital. She cleared her throat and said, “Um, is-is he awake?”

“Teagan…” Gemma sighed.

“Gem, I just want to make sure he’s okay. Tell him I’m sorry.” She said.

“For what?” Gemma asked. Teagan opened her mouth to respond, but stopped when she realized she wasn’t quite sure.

“I-I-” Gemma stopped her and said, “Look. Before you do anything, I want you cleared by the doc. Make sure everything is working right up there. You’ve taken a few punches already and we don’t need you passing out on us again.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Alright. But can we make it quick? I want to fucking shower too.” Teagan said. Gemma chuckled and gave Teagan a kiss on her cheek before she left the room to flag down Tara.

After a lengthy talk about making sure she was monitored for the next few days, Tara finally cleared her to leave. Teagan couldn’t change fast enough. Gemma had run back to the clubhouse and packed her a small bag of new clothes. Once she changed and the papers were signed, Gemma walked Teagan up to Chibs’ floor and stopped her.

“Just give me a minute, Teagan, okay?” Gemma said, sitting the girl down in a nearby chair before sidestepping to the door. With her hand on the door knob, she stopped when she saw Fiona sitting in the chair, reading a magazine.

‘Oh, shit.’ She thought as she slowly opened the door and walked in. Fiona glanced up as the door opened as surprised to see Gemma as Gemma was to see her. With a sigh and uncrossing her legs, Fiona put down her magazine and stood. Gemma went to the counter to set down her bag as she said, “You’re a long way from home, sweetheart.”

“Yes. I am.” Fiona said, rather matter of factly. Gemma braced a hand on the counter, the other on her hip and asked, plainly, “Why?”

“I was worried about him.” Fiona said, almost a hint of offence in her voice. Gemma looked unconvinced as she said, “Could’ve sent flowers.”

Fiona’s face was full of annoyance at this point, uphased at how much Gemma hadn’t changed over the years. With an equal annoyance in her voice, she said, “Just needed to see him, Gemma.”

Gemma glanced at Chibs, making sure he wasn’t awake and listening as she crossed in front of Fiona and said, “We are in a shit storm here. The last thing we need is you turning him inside out.”

Teagan stayed out of view from the window on the door, ear pressed to it, listening. She didn't know what Gemma meant by ‘turning him inside out’, but she didn't need an interpreter for it, and booked it, swiping her bag from the chair and beelining for the elevator. Clearly, this Fiona woman had an effect on Chibs and, after all, she was his fucking wife. She didn't want to ruin Chibs’ relationship with her and had her mind made up, even before she hijacked Tig’s bike, parked with the others. She hotwired the Harley, strapped on Tig’s helmet and took off as the club came running back outside, ready to deal a beat down, but they were all caught off guard to see Teagan as the thief.

“Hey! Teagan-!” Tig called in disbelief. He sighed and turned to his crew, staring at them for a moment before he said, “Unbelievable.”

Teagan lit into the Clubhouse like the place was on fire. Ignoring Piney’s attempts to slow her down and tell him what the hell was going on as she passed by the bar and made her way down the hall to the dorms; Throwing the door to her room open. The sound of it slamming against the wall sending an echo loud enough down the hallway that it could’ve woke people up in the next County over.

Grabbing her pack from the closet she quickly began to stuff in the essentials. Making sure to do so quickly as she knew at least a few of the guys would be on their way back and pulling in soon. Tig being among them, given she had just stolen his pride and joy. So the sooner she got out of there, the better. Besides, the last thing she wanted was anyone trying to stop her…

Her mind was made up...She was done. Charming had been her last chance at a safe haven, but now that had been shattered into a million pieces and all because she let her feelings get in the way. Just like she always did. Funny she had actually believed that things had actually turned in her favor for once, and that maybe she finally had a shot at real happiness despite the shitstorm that had been chasing her all her life. But she couldn’t have been more wrong.

“What in the fuck are you doing?” Tawni grumbled crankily from the doorway of Teagan’s room, still half asleep; Teagan turning and narrowing her gaze.

“Leaving.” Teagan snapped as she tugged the zipper on her pack shut and threw it over her shoulder before stalking out of the room. Shoulder checking Tawni on the way out when she didn’t move.

“Seriously?!” Tawni huffed as she turned and started after Teagan. “You’re gonna be a bitch this fucking early?!”

“I’m done. Gone. Not fucking coming back. You should be fucking happy!” Teagan rounded on Tawni, causing her to take a step back as she stared at Teagan a little shocked as those few that remained in the Clubhouse fell silent. “Can’t fuck your Uncle if I’m not around anymore, right? Because as if things weren’t shitty enough -- To add insult to injury, my best fucking friend--Sorry ex best friend, just assumes, that I would go behind her back in such a way--”

“Teagan--”

“Fuckin’ save it Tawn, ‘cause I don’t give a shit anymore.” Teagan cut her off before she could even start. “And to think, I actually fucking cared...I mean genuinely fucking cared, for the first time in a long time...But he’s married, so crisis averted. ” She laughed bitterly, turning on her heel as she started for the door again.

“And you’re answer to it all is to run like a fucking coward? Just like you’ve always done?!” Tawni started after Teagan again, not ready to let her go so easily. But she stopped when Teagan dropped her bag abruptly, her fist suddenly connecting with Tawni’s jaw, sending her to the floor.

“I thought you were my fucking friend.” Teagan’s voice was calm, showing in it the level of hurt she was feeling right now as she shook her head.

“C’mon, Kid, don’t do this.” Piney butted in as he got to his feet, holding his hands out as if he was trying to calm a wild animal as he approached her. Stopping when Teagan held out a hand to stop him, and picked up her bag.

“Save it.”

“What the fucking Christ, Teagan?!” Tig hollered as he came bursting through the doors of the Clubhouse, Jax and Opie close behind.

“Don’t.” Teagan snapped coldly as she pushed past her brother and out the door; yanking her arm from Opie’s grasp when he tried to grab her.

“Come on, Rave...Don’t do it like this.” Opie pleaded with a sympathetic expression as he stared down at her as she pushed past him out the door. “At least tell us what’s going on?”

“She’s fuckin’ my Goddamn Uncle, is wha’s goin’ on!” Tawni shouted as she came flying out the door in the midst of all the chaos, hellbent on finishing what had just been started.

“You know…” Teagan gave another hollow sounding laugh, turning with tears in her eyes to face Tawni who stopped when she saw her twisted expression. “I actually wish I had gotten the chance.”

Without another word she turned, crossing the lot the rest of the way to her bike, securing her pack to the sissy bar before she climbed on and pulled on her helmet. The sound of the engine roaring to life drowning out Tig’s shouts as he came running across the Teller-Morrow lot after her; Falling just short of reaching her as she pulled out of her space and hit the throttle. Leaving behind a sea of shocked and confused faces in her wake as she left it all behind.

Hellbent on never looking back.

----------------------------------------------------

Lemme know what you guys think! I promise things pick up soon and get more interesting lol And if you want to be added the taglist, or removed ((it’s been a long time, I’d understand if anyone's lost interest)) just let me know. I’m actually getting ahead on chapters, so hopefully I’ll be able to start posting a little more often.

TAGLIST: @jacksonroseroth @cole-winchester @stacie-marie-bloom @journeyrose @penny4yourthot @xbreezymeadowsx @miss-nori85

#Sons of Anarchy #SOA #SAMCRO #Chibs Telford #Filip Chibs Telford #Tommy Flanagan #Sons of Anarchy Fic #SOA fanfiction #Chibs Telford x OFC #Filip Telford #Filip Telford x OFC #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Writing #original female character #Whiskey Lullaby #Megan halfway gets her life together enough to post a story update #Sorry I'm a shit person

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 4 years ago

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Dangerous (Part 1/2)

Description: It was your best friend’s bachelorette party in one of London’s best clubs when two men had closed a bet if they would be able to seduce you. And in the end, the night ended up way better than you originally anticipated.

A/N: Oh, we're back. For this two-part one-shot, I approached both of the idiots very differently - I wanted Sam to have this sexual hotshot energy while Cutter had more of that mysterious daddy vibe. And I think that somehow, it really suits both the boys. Enjoy.

Pairing: Charlie Cutter x reader x Samuel Drake (We stan a threesome in this house)

Playlist: Idiot sandwich that stole my heart™

Tagging: @missdictatorme

Part 2.

It was just another night in downtown. The sunlight was slowly fading away, ladies wore tight and short skirts, and gentlemen were sipping whiskey in the nearby bars. And London was no different. It was one of the most favorite tourist locations since it was mostly colder in there during summer and it was the crown jewel of England. Soho and Chinese street looked especially magnificent at that time of the year.

Yet the clubs were especially full of people as well. Swedish and European students, you gonna love this, mate, as Charlie said Samuel a million times. Cutter and Drake, formerly known as Morgan, were two gentlemen in their best years. They weren't some boys who would bend you over the nearest bed without knowing what to do. No. They both were quite tall, one of them would even say fairly handsome - and skilled in the first place.

Drake, the definition of a small bitch according to Cutter, was rather persistent with choosing some warmer locations like the Bahamas or the Canary Islands, let alone Cuba, for their summer vacation. But Cutter, who was born and lived his whole life in England, told him to go fuck himself and that this year, he’ll show Drake the European hospitality and girls. Samuel had to say that these young kittens looked magnificent, from both up close and from the distance.

Norwegian girls had the dirties eyes he had seen, French girls could whisper them some sweet nothings the whole night, Hungarian girls were fiery enough to show them who is the boss, Czech and Slovak girls knew well how to handle alcohol and Russian girls were both tough and sweet as candy at the same time. Yet Samuel didn't stop bitching about London being the color-less, boring city he always saw on the postcards. What did it matter that the Queen was living there when the only location which tingled Samuel’s senses was the Tower? Yet Cutter told him that Sam hadn't seen shit yet.

And bloody hell, as British men would say when they walked into the club, Samuel knew what was the boy talking about. That was the energy Sam needed to feel alive since he was rotting in hell for God knows how long. Alcohol being poured in gallons, tight pairs of jeans, and laughter all around. And this wasn’t some boring-ass club either, as Samuel would say. People were dancing, which he hasn't seen in ages. Cutter most took him to poker tournaments or to play darts.

"Bee’s knees, I love this bloody place." - Cutter sighed and took the bomber off, walking stairs down to walk to the bar of the place itself. - "Come on, you prick, don't just stand there!" - He called at Samuel with a raspy voice, laughing out loud. Sometimes, Sam looked like a small boy in a toystore. Especially when he was looking at so many lovely bottoms and tits.

"One Pimm’s Cup and a Sex on the Beach for this lady over here." - Cutter winked at the barmaid who smiled back at him, already holding the shaker to prepare some of the best drinks in London.

"What are we? Fucking ladies to drink cocktails?" - Sam asked back, leaning his back to the bar, looking around. His eyes were doing their best to see it all - the girl with afro trying to kiss the soul out of her partner's body, the boy who had his hand in his girl's panties and the twerking group in the middle of the dancefloor.

"Mate, you hadn't learned shit while you were in London. You need to start slowly before pouring down vodka and other shit." - Cutter told him, smiling at the barmaid who brought them the drinks. She was sweet - her blonde hair was in a high ponytail and her face was full of freckles. She was just the type of girl Cutter liked. Sweet, innocent, and pretty. - "Thank you, darling." - The bald man smiled at the barmaid before she ran off to serve another customer.

"And you still think that you're attractive enough to get under a young girl's panties. Who is dumber here? Cheers, mate." - Samuel answered with a dramatic British accent, toasting to Cutter before taking a sip through the straw. Yet Cutter's grin was making him sure that he had just bumped into an interesting topic.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Samuel. Both American and European chicks go crazy for a British accent. All you have to do in the bed is talk and they cum on their own." - Cutter looked around with a shit-eating grin. He knew very well that he's right. A good portion of women was into a thick British accent and his raspy voice. The voice alone could work wonders between girl’s thighs, so being tall, muscular, and having this bad boy vibe was just a bonus usually.

"I think you're lying, brother, but what can I know? I usually put my mouth to use too, but we ain't talkin’. And this mouth can show you the universe, I tell ya." - Samuel answered with a nasty grin as well, his Boston accent being fully put to use at that point. Cutter started to laugh out loud, having Samuel clueless.

"Nice to know, I will remember that, mate. You wanna show me or what?" - Cutter asked, sipping another sip of his ice-cold drink.

"You're such a douchebag." - Samuel laughed as well since Cutter knew how to turn every single situation into a stand-up.

"You see the chick at three o’clock?" - Cutter mumbled from sipping, still looking in front of himself. Samuel carefully checked her out. Not that she would notice a man staring in a club full of people, yet Samuel didn't want to come across as a creep. She was... Pretty. As a lot of women inside the club. She was yelling something at the barmaid so she would hear her, standing there in some old sneakers. Her clothes didn't reveal that much, it was just a normal white top and a pair of blue jeans. Yet something about that face made both the idiots grin when thinking about showing her the edge of paradise.

"Yeah, you bet your fucking British ass I do see that girl." - Samuel returned to the previous position, grinning into his straw just the way Cutter did. Both boys liked girls who had that little spark about them. You never could quite put the finger on it, yet it was there. You couldn't name or label it - it was the flame of the unknown, a promise of fun or... See? Neither of them knew what it is, but she had it.

"And since we’re in this bloody town for the last night, I wanna bet, mate. Since I know that British accent is a hit with the ladies and you keep telling me about some magical Boston mouth, whoever gets the girl, wins something." - Cutter put the empty glass on the bar, grinning at Samuel, having the man grinning back. Timber was yelling all over the club and it felt 2013-ish. The barmaid automatically brought both men a shot of their finest vodka since Cutter came to the club pretty frequently.

"What’s the somethin’ we talkin’ ’bout?" - Samuel bit his lower lip when the girl got her drinks and ventured back to the back of the club where the tables were. Both of them poured the vodka down their throats at the same time, both of them having that face.

"I don't know. Maybe some expansive liquor?" - Charlie asked, but after that, he started laughing. - "Oh, I know, when I get her down tonight, you owe me a ride on your motorbike baby and night with this beautiful lady." - He offered Samuel his palm, watching Sam slowly shaking it.

"When I win, your best bomber is mine. Who goes first?" - Samuel crunched the knuckles and to his surprise, Charlie motioned for him to go.

"Ladies first, mate, ladies always go first." - Charlie smiled, asking for two bottles of beer. When Samuel got his beer, he shook his head but started walking in the direction of your table.

***

It was your friend's bachelorette party and for a reason, she chose a club in London from all the destinations, like France or Italy, she could choose. You were not from there, but she wanted something big and fancy, so she decided to go for a weekend to London. You were more of staying put at home person, yet you didn't want to upset her just days from her wedding.

"Your dinks, ladies." - You yelled, earning an excited yelling of your shit-faced friends back. You’ve been sticking to beer the whole four hours you've already spent in that God-forsaken place, you've been just fine at that moment, being on bottle number four by that time.

"You're my favorite maid of honor." - Your friend Amber hugged you, giving you a big fat kiss on your cheek. You giggled at that, taking another sip of the beer. - "These men here, ugh." - Amber moaned out loud before taking a big sip of her Mochito, watching the dancefloor with her eyes open wide. You chuckled at that, sipping from your bottle.

You weren't that interested in the men there. Like, yeah, they were nice and most of the men you've encountered in England so far were true British gentlemen, but... You weren't the type who would mingle for a one-night stand. You were taking the whole crazy trip as a widening of your horizons. When Amber didn't want to be in a club, you usually traveled around to see the sights England could give you. Stratford upon Avon was cute, Devon too, but London was a blast in your opinion.

"And you're getting married next week, Amber. Don't forget about that you nasty bitch." - Monica yelled from the other side of the table, giggling at Amber's sighs.

"I envy you soooo much, Y/N. These men are everything. Just look at these damn asses." - Amber rolled her eyes, making you both laugh in sync. Suddenly, she got all serious. Her elbow bumped into your ribs making you squeal, her head motioning in a direction of some forty-something dude who was eyeing your table, slowly walking to it through the dancing crowd. - "I think he's coming for one of us, what should I do?" - Amber panicked, looking at her engagement ring.

"You won't do shit, Amber, you're the bride." - You calmed her down, making her lips from a little O in awe. She was like that when she was drunk. The man looked fine, that was true - tall with brown hair, a rough face, and a tall body. You couldn't see him clearly, you just watched him swaying his hips in black jeans and shoulders in a white t-shirt widening with every step he took.

It took him almost five minutes before he finally got there. That was mainly because of the way he was trying to sell that nasty smug. You’ve wondered how it came that he didn't wiggle his hips out. Just when he was about to tell you something, the DJ started playing some banger according to the screaming coming from the dancing crowd, which made you smile. So he leaned in without a problem. Well, at least you knew that he had some confidence inside of him.

"Night, ladies, the name’s Samuel." - He offered his palm to Monica, then to Amber and then to you, kissing your knuckles with a smile. - "How comes that three beautiful ladies end up in a place like this... Alone?" - He wondered, standing next to the empty spot long enough for Monica to scoop a bit further away. Naturally, Samuel sat next to her, giving her a rather nasty smile.

"It’s my bachelorette party!" - Amber yelled at him with a happy smile, making you smile as well when she shoved her ring right in front of that guy's face. At least the confident asshat knew that he won't make a single move at that table. Yet Samuel rose his eyebrows, smiled even wider, and gently caught her palm to look at the ring. Then he nodded and let her hand go. - "He is one of a hella happy fella, I tell you that." - And with that, his eyes hooked on your face. Monica was watching both of you with a vulgar smile on her lips.

"And what about you, doll, you're having a bachelorette party too?" - Samuel smiled, putting his bottle on the table. Before you could answer, shit-faced Amber already started telling him your story.

"She’s been single forever, I swear. It always works or spending time with her family, like, I know she's the most responsible and shit, but I am afraid that she’ll end up alone with twenty cats, and one day, she'll go nuts." - She told him seriously. The mysterious, confident and somehow sexy guy started laughing at her straightforwardness, looking you in the eyes after that.

"I will go nuts if you won't stop, bitch, this was unnecessary." - You sighed, taking a deep swing of your beer. You shook your head with an angry face. Although, Amber wasn’t stopping there, making you even more embarrassed. - "But you are a hell of a guy. Holy fuck, are those tattoos? I always wanted my fiance to get some." - She went for it and let her fingers grace his neck. Samuel had a pleased grin when she has done so.

"I've been living in Panama for some time, got ’em there." - He then proceeded to lift one of his sleeves, showing you another tattoo on his shoulder. These were poker aces. Amber but her lower bottom, looking at the tattoos, gently touching them, traveling down to feel the poor man's biceps at the very end of her exploration. To put it nicely, you were embarrassed. Yet to your surprise, the Samuel man ignored Amber drooling over him and practically climbing over the table to touch his skin. The man sat there and watched you with a small smile. - "And I have a few more on places that ain’t appropriate to show ’ere." - He mumbled and both of the ladies next to you instantly got the horny faces on.

Amber bumped her elbow into your ribs again, doing it way stealthier this time. Yeah, he was a good looking man if you'd have to be honest. He had your girls wrapped around his long finger five minutes after coming there - there was this... Testosterone or some shit like that coming out of him. Amber gave you one of these risen-eyebrows looks and bit her lower lip once again.

"Care for a dance?" - The man asked, standing up. At first, he was looking into the dancing crowd only giving you his palm as if he didn't even care. You sat there for quite a while before Samuel smiled in your direction, assuring you that he wants you to dance with him. Which, no matter how hard you'd try to deny this, it was something that made you smile too. In a gentle moment, you slipped your palm into his, hoping that at least Amber would stop hitting your ribs.

You honestly hadn't heard that song in years. Calabria felt real like a late 2010-ish song. Was this night sort of a retro party? You hadn't heard the majority of the songs in years, yet people danced to them like crazy. And let's be honest, you and Samuel weren't that much different, because as soon as you hit the dancefloor, he showed you some good moves and suddenly, it wasn't that weird or gross to be seduced by that man.

***

To be honest, Cutter was quite in the mood when he saw that Samuel and you dancing along with the other pairs. And more importantly, you two were having fun. Sam started with his most outdated moves, slowly getting to the more erotic ones when you seemed to agree with that. The man didn't want to be punched right into his nose. Yet soon, your pelvis was brought close to Samuels and Charlie could see his friend's lips whispering something in your ear. In the reaction to that, you were laughing and soon enough, you put one of your hands on his waist.

Charlie was quite familiar with the song playing. It had some good basses and the beat just invited you to dance. You were the sweetest when you let go of Samuel, rose your hands above your hand, yelling the upcoming lyrics, that went something like... - "Dangerous? Oh! That sounds good, yeah.

Talk to me baby, like I'm your dude." - It made Charlie chuckle.

He was also quite interested in the tactics Samuel used to relax you like that. The whole time Samuel was gone, Charlie stood next to the bar, thinking about what he should he do. He was choosing a tactic if you will. Every woman was different, so he better has some back-up plan if he wants to win the bet. Samuel undeniably had the charming personality chicks liked, whether he was aware of it or not. He was a forty-something-year-old dude with the mentality of a dude in his early twenties, which was attractive too.

Yet Charlie didn't have that trait. He was a man in his late forties and it could be seen as well. He was bald too. But that was something Samuel didn't quite have - the authority of something like a daddy figure if you will. He met girls who were into that sort of stuff and he hadn't got a single problem with delivering - it was quite fun actually. To say it quickly, he was a guy who was looking mysteriously with a good sense of humor, making the chicks both screaming in pleasure and very with laughter when they wanted that goofy-guy sorta stuff.

So he figured out that it would be best to figure out what you were into and work on that since the first second he introduces himself to you on the bar.

***

"You have good dance moves, Y/N!" - Sam exclaimed happily when he was leading you back to your table. You nodded, still laughing. You couldn't believe that you spend half an hour with a totally strange guy on the dancefloor. Yeah, it wasn't just dancing obviously. Sam proved to be quite handy with his palms, absorbing almost everything out of your body while his mouth was whispering funny stuff. Suddenly, you both stopped and he looked at you with a pretty bold smile. Again, he showed you how quick he could be when his left palm put some hair out of your face. - "This was fun. So... If you would like to have some more fun when you'll be leaving, call this number, deal?" - He asked and gave you a small card.

It was one of the most simple ones you've ever had seen. Samuel Drake - historian, archeologist, and an adventurer. His number was on the other side. After giving him the same nasty grin, you nodded and pushed the card into the back pocket of your jeans, letting him go.

Girls immediately noticed you coming back... All alone without that Sammy boy. But the smile was indicating that you hadn't empty hands. Amber asked you about what happened even before you sat your ass down. - "Well, we danced and lemme say, he's a good dancer and then... He gave me this business card to call him when ill be leaving. Which unfortunately won't happen since I have to lead both your drunk asses to the hotel." - You sighed, playing with the card between your fingers. Monica took it out, smiling at you.

"I'm more or less sober, so I can take Amber home while you'll find that prince charming and have a wonderful night." - She gave it back to you after reading the text under his name. - "I would love to have a cig, anyone going with me?" - Monica asked and mumbled a few curse words while she searched through her purse for a pack of cigarettes. Naturally, you got up and motioned for her to go first, telling amber to sit there on her damn ass until you come back.

It was nice to stand in some fresh air. The night was pretty cold and it was raining a bit, but you didn't care since you were already soaking wet. Monica gave you a cigarette as well and both lit it up at the same moment. She was giving you some nasty grin too, which made you chuckle. - "What?" - You mumbled, exhaling the smoke.

"He seemed to be into you big time. You sure you don't want to call the man?" - She asked and at that moment, she seemed to be pretty reasonable and sober. Your shoulders jolted unknowingly. There was something on that promise of spending a night by his side. Sam was genuinely fun, hot as far as you could say and pretty smart. Also, he wasn't drunk that much, neither were you - so it was maybe really the both-sided chemistry doing the work. A couple of times it seemed that he's going in for a kiss, yet he rather teased you and bit your earlobe gently.

"He seemed sweet and fun and all, but what about you two?" - You asked Monica silently, still smoking on the cigarette with a thoughtful face.

"Oh, shush. We'll take a cab and get to the hotel on our own. I'll look after Amber. She was right about you being all about work or family. He's a stranger and you don't have to see him ever again, and that has some magic into it. Live a bit, come on, sis." - She hugged and you, indeed, felt confident about what Monica has said.

Sam was nothing but a hot guy you met in a club. You can fuck the night away, have some fun, wait for him to fall asleep, and then drive to your hotel, sitting on a flight home tomorrow. You'll never have to see him again.

You were determined that once you'll be leaving, you'll call the man, accepting the offer. When you were inside, you walked to the bar to order some alcohol, because Amber got to drink both your and Sam's beer when you were dancing.

It took you a moment to notice that guy. He was holding a small glass of whiskey, eyeing you with a small grin. He wasn’t exactly your type of handsome, yet there was something about that face. You spotted small stable and very attentive blue eyes. This man was huge in the best meaning of the word. He wasn't fat, not at all, yet it could be seen that there are some muscles under the t-shirt he had on. He was at least twice your age, but you got nervous when you looked into his eyes.

The difference between him and the guy you met earlier was huge. While Sam appeared to be a fairly approachable, exciting, and funny person, this dude... He seemed mysterious and authoritative. Which had woken up things inside of you; things you didn't even know were there. After having your breath stuck for a while, you returned a smile to the man, which was a signal for him to move closer to you.

"Whatever the lady orders, it's my treat." - The bald man told the barmaid, having her smile. Slowly, the man put some pounds on the wooden countertop, still looking at the lady who was serving the alcohol. It was ridiculously more than what you were supposed to pay, yet the gentlemen made clear that he doesn't want a pound back. - "Sure thing, Mr. Cutter."

"And what about you, love?" - He asked, taking your palm to kiss your knuckles delicately. That accent settled inside of your ears, fully attacking your brain. It was hot only to listen to the raspy voice speaking with the fully-blown thick London accent. No matter what you did, that man’s gaze followed you around. You almost felt like you can't escape it. Why Sam was making you feel so good and that was what made you aroused, yet this man was coming across as someone who would bend you over his knee with pleasure and it made you interested as well. - "What about me?" - You asked back, smiling at the man.

"What are you doing here alone?" - Cutter said and leaned even closer, having a smile on his lips when he leaned closer enough to whisper things into your ear. He had a firm body, just like Sam did, yet these two couldn't come across differently. - "I can do something about that, sweetheart."

Was all of this a nice dream? Two attractive men approaching you on the same night, telling you to leave the place with them. Or were they serial murderers? Or did a car hit you and you were in a coma? No, your heartbeat reminded you that this is pretty much happening in front of your very eyes. What the fuck should you do? If you'll leave with Cutter, what about Sam? And if you'd leave with Sam, what about this man? Why couldn't you have them both?

Monica more or less made you swear that whatever happens, you'll leave with Sam at the end of the party. But you felt being in a tight corner at the moment. Both men had some spark in them, one of them promised you a whole night of fun and the other one felt like a total daddy.

"That's kind of you, sir." - You winked at him, not knowing what else to say. The club was slowly getting darker, changing the color scheme as it was getting closer to midnight, now playing some Russian rap songs. Cutter looked at the couples around you, seeing many of them kissing and touching far beyond the line of decency. That was before you felt tips of someone's fingers smoothing your upper arm, gently getting onto your sweaty neck and jaw.

You could turn away from that man, yet there was something that made you push your head even closer, so your lips could meet his halfway. He wasn’t shying away at all, coming in with full force - lip bite, not too long after that, he even used his tongue, holding you close by your jaw. And this man, dear lord, he had some skillful mouth. It even made you close your eyes with enjoyment, making you moan lightly into his kiss.

"So, what do you say, love? Me, you, my place here?" - He whispered once he was done with the kiss, his palm slowly traveling down on your waist and lower. Sam did touch these places, yes, but his approach was more natural than devoting straightaway. Which made you also a bit cautious and aware of the man.

"I need to go back, Mr. Cutter. But thank you for the... Ehm... Invitation anyway." - You took the drinks, hurrying up back to girls. Your heartbeat was off the charts, your whole damn body was sweaty and since there were two rather handsome men trying to win you over that night, you were aroused as well. You couldn't leave with Sam, because you'd think about Cutter and the other way around. But you were sure that you will at least masturbate that night.

"Are you okay?" - Amber yelled into your ear when you finally sat down, gulping down. You couldn't catch your breath ever since Cutter kissed you. Your gaze traveled to her and you shook your head almost frantically.

"Another guy tried to take me over to his place." - You mumbled, gulping down your whole drink at once. Monica smiled and leaned over to you.

"And was this one as handsome as that Samuel before?" - She asked, taking her cocktail out of your hand. You turned your hand to the dancefloor, imaging both the men inside of your head.

"It's hard to tell, Monica. This one was tall and well-built as well..." - You sighed, but Amber stopped you once again. - "How can you know that he was well-built?" - She wondered, taking the last ice-cold drink as well. It was a miracle that she hadn't fallen asleep until that point.

"Because I know he's a good kisser too." - You smiled and each of you started laughing like crazy. - "I mean, he wasn’t the most handsome man I've seen, yet, he had that something inside these eyes." - You shook your head, not believing the things that had happened inside that club. It was just one night you've spent there and two attractive men approached you. One of them was American, the other one was clearly British and you knew that both of them had something to offer. But you knew that you'll leave alone once again.

***

"How did it go?" - Samuel asked Cutter once he walked off the dancefloor again. Cutter was leaning his elbow to the bar, watching you and your girls chatting excitedly. After that, he turned back to Sam.

"I can't tell, mate. First, it appeared that I have her hooked, but she left after that. What about you?" - Charlie finished another glass of whiskey, moving to beer for the rest of the night. From Sam’s smirk, it was apparent that at least one of the men is feeling positive about the whole bet.

"She has my number and when I was on a smoke break, her friend told her that she should have some fun with me tonite if you know what I mean." - Samuel wiggled his eyebrows, making Cutter frown even more. Maybe he shouldn’t go for the kiss just like that, but your body was telling yes. You were attracted to him, so why shouldn't he test the waters? It was too late for these kinds of thoughts. He probably had scared you off.

The two friends were standing there for quite a while and waited for Sam's desired call, talking about nothing the whole time. Sam had to say that he had some fun time and Cutter’s most impressive bomber on top of that. But that was when both men felt someone's presence behind them.

"You two know each other?" - A voice asked them and when they turned around, it was none other than you. Your eyes were looking at both of them and it was clear that you don't know what to think of that. Sam looked at Cutter with panic, not knowing what to say.

"It's not how you think it is." - Cutter tried to calm you down, but you were visibly upset over the whole situation. Yeah, it was a bet, but Cutter meant what he said. He wanted to spend the night with you. This was just a fun way to raise the stakes. If you wouldn't get to know.

"Jesus, I should've known that you two are assholes." - You walked between the men, mumbling something about assholes, dickheads, and shits, preparing money to pay the last drinks of the night. - "How would two men like you saw something on an ugly duckling like me? Funny shit, I tell you." - You mumbled with disgust, ordering cocktails your girls asked for.

"You don't know what you're talking about, love. You're beautiful." - Cutter told you back with a small smile, looking Samuel in the eyes. The other man nodded when he realized, leaning into the bar as well. - "And intelligent as hell, which is a huge turn on. I don't know why someone as pretty as you are even let guys like us talk to you." - The American smiled at you from the other side, lust lingering inside his eyes.

Could that be? It maybe was just a bet, yet these two men seemed to be interested. It could be a game as well - but a perfect solution to your situation too. If these two knew each other, maybe you didn't have to leave the place alone because you couldn't choose between them. Maybe, you could leave with both of them at once. You’ve never done that, but the alcohol inside your veins made you courageous.

"So, you're friends, you know each other, right?" - You asked while a smile grew on your lips. Oh, Cutter knew what is about to come and... It was so nasty that it turned him on in some kind of way. Samuel was completely confused tho. - "That means you can meet me outside the club in ten, probably?" - You asked innocently, taking the drinks, smiling at Charlie. He smiled back, leaving Samuel in the dark for a little longer.

"Which one of us?" - The American demanded. He wanted to win the bet so badly because Cutter’s bombers were the best in the whole world. But when he saw your devilish grin with the shine in your eyes, his heart skipped a beat. Oh. OH. Holy fuck. You had that spark inside of you, but neither of them would ever say that you're a nasty girl as well. At least not this much.

Sam honestly never seen cutter without clothes and he didn't know if he's ready for that, but... Life was about adventure, right? And this way something Sam knew he will say yes to. There was something on having a girl helpless, being taken care of by two men. He loved to worship women, he indeed loved everything about that, but this was exciting as well. And Charlie? He knew how to approach to a threesome. There were occasions where he had joined in and in some, he was only there to watch. He especially loved when two ladies invited him to a bad. But he hadn't a single issue with giving you what you wanted.

"Both of you, silly." - You smiled sweetly before disappearing into the crowd.

#samuel drake x reader #samuel dake x reader #samuel drake Uncharted #samuel drake #charlie cutter #charlie cutter uncharted #lmao #wait for the next part #is filthy #is hot #is sexy #will cure depression #I SWEAR #these two daddies #UGH

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shiveringpinkala · 4 years ago

Text

voyage to the heart’s land

so, i wrote a fic for @renelemaires because i’m not good at headcanons as was initially requested, but i can do this apparently. sending happiness and good vibes your way!

voyage to the heart’s land; renee lemaire after the war w/ vague hints of baberoe, renee/gene and possible future renee/gene/babe. 2969 words.

Renee left Belgium two years after the war ended.

She loved her home, but the magic of the forests and memories of running around the city square in the blush of youth no longer held the easy charm that she associated with those times. And so, one day, in the height of July’s peaking summer, she pulled out an old atlas of her father’s – yellowed at the edges, curls crinkling on the front of most pages, one corner missing and taking a chuck of the Soviet Union, Egypt and Newfoundland with it – and looked for something new.

She bookmarked Morocco for the language and Portugal for the ocean, but stopped completely when she reached the United States. Jagged borderlines between oddly shaped provinces and big – so much bigger than Belgium, bigger than Europe – and thought of Eugene. She traced her fingers down the neatly labeled Appalachian Montagnes, bypassing the likes of Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia and sweeping over until she landed on Louisiana; little dots pointing out the towns of New Orleans and Baton Rouge. She tapped idly on the image and thought of the Eugene’s low voice and rough accent, the weary determination in his eyes. Her hands stilled.

Louisiana is was then.

Her mother kissed her cheeks at the train station. Her father tucked a riot of bills in her pocket and when she tried to protest, only said to write when she reached America. The subsequent journey took her out to England and then to an ocean liner setting sail for New York. She spent every waking moment she could on deck, drinking in the spray of ocean air and watching contentedly as an Irish mother of four tired to corral her children unsuccessfully.

Once she landed in New York, she asked the nearest shop owner – a plump, friendly woman with a thick Polish accent – where she could find a telegraph office and was given an escort in the form of the woman’s ten year old son who delivered her to her destination with a gap toothed smile. She sent her message; carefully relaying the address that was postmarked on the envelope of the single letter Eugene had written her a year earlier, hoping he hadn’t gotten the urge to pick up roots as well in the time that had lapsed. From there, it was off to the currency exchange station, and then to a hotel. She spent two days in New York, enjoying the rush of bodies and movement despite herself, listening to the array of languages and marveling at the lights that never seemed to dim. On the third morning, she ventured to Grand Central Station and caught a train headed to Philadelphia.

The ride was surprisingly short, but it was also dark and her next train wasn’t due to leave until the morning, but – to her surprise – when she stepped onto the platform there was a giant hand-written sign with her name on it in blocky letters. She blinked, caught out and cautiously approached the strangers huddled around it. One of the men, short and solidly built, braced on a pair of crutches, beamed when he spotted her approach and waved her over.

“Hello?” She asked, still confused. The pretty – and lone – woman standing beside the man in question rolled her eyes at the man’s enthusiasm and held out a hand of Renee when she got close enough.

“Ignore him,” she said, waving a hand at the man’s indignant bark, “I told him that no woman in their right mind would want to walk over to a group of strange rabble without reason, but he insisted,” she smiled, “I’m Frannie.”

“Renee,” she answered bemused, “as you know, apparently. How did –”

“Babe sent us,” the man said, accent broad and unfamiliar, but not unappealing, “Doc told him you were coming and he told us.”

“Babe?” Renee asked, looking at Frannie to see if he was being serious.

“You’ll meet him when you get down there,” he said, “My name’s Bill. Guarnere. I served with the Doc. And this here –” he looked over at the person holding the sign and then whacked at the legs peeking out underneath it with one crutch, “— put that down, ya idiot. There’s a lady present. This is Ralph Spina, one ‘a Doc’s fellow medics.”

Ralph lowered the sign with her name and sent Bill a caustic glare, then looked back at her and nodded. “Nice ta meet you, ma’am.”

“Renee is fine,” she smiled at the trio, unduly charmed, “it’s nice to meet you as well.”

Frannie stepped forward and looped an arm through Renee’s and pointed at her bags, “Ralph get those, will you? Right this way, honey. No friend of Doc Roe is spending the night in some roachy motel. You like Italian? I was thinking ravioli or gnocchi, maybe.”

Renee dropped the protest that she could carry her own luggage when Ralph picked it up immediately and followed in Frannie’s footsteps without complaint. She thought about Eugene and this Babe person arranging for her to have a welcoming party and let the bickering chatter between the three American’s envelope her in gentle waves.

The dinner was amazing (“Now that rationing’s lifting, makes getting the right ingredients easier.” Bill laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at Ralph, and their other friend Joe Toye, who only rolled his eyes at Bill’s bombastic tone, “No more Army noodles here.”) and the company even better as they told her endless stories about what seemed to be every single man they’d served with. At some point, she realized she was laughing so hard that tears were actually welling in her eyes and the salt in them felt like a cleansing of some kind. Like a layer of heavy silt had been washed from her soul. She fell asleep on her borrowed bed that night with a smile on her face.

To repay their generosity, she woke up early – not difficult as her internal clock was a mess from slipping between time zones so quickly – and made a somewhat augmented version of her mother’s waffles and homemade hot chocolate for everyone.

Frannie took a sip while the boys ate seconds – or in Joe’s case, thirds – and said: “That was really good. If everything you make is this good, you should sell it. No point in giving heaven away for free.”

Renee thought about lazy mornings making bread with her mother in the kitchen of their old house. Kneading the dough, watching it rise and the whole house filling up with the smell as it baked. Regular cooking had never been something she’d had much patience for, but baking was something else entirely. She’d always found a peace in the careful measurements and methodical movements; her mind could wander away and rest from its troubles. The look on someone’s face when they took a bite was only a bonus.

She stared down at her hands and thought, for the first time in a long time, that maybe there was something special about them.

“Maybe,” she murmured and enjoyed the contentment of a job well done.

Frannie and the boys saw her off hours later. “Write, you hear,” Frannie said, hugging her tightly, “I need more women in my life that’ll understand my pain.”

“I am a goddamned joy and you know it,” Bill argued, but also pulled Renee into a one-armed embrace. “Tell those idiots to write too, ain’t like they don’t have pens and paper in the swamp.”

“I will. And thank you,” she directed the last at the whole group, who waved away the gratitude with mumbled protests and continued waving as she stepped onto the train.

This one took her to Charleston, down through rolling green hills and farmlands that gave the country some space, opening up into long tracks of fields that both reminded her of home and was nothing at all like it. It was only a stop over this time, but the hour of rest came with polite men and women, an ocean view and accents that were similar to Eugene’s. The leg after took her down to Georgia where she drank an ice-cold Coca-Cola from a Soda Fountain in the rail yard and watched a group of kids played a game right in the middle of the street with a ball and stick; jeers and cheers filtering into the open door of the Fountain. From Savannah, the train took her all the way to New Orleans.

New Orleans was like stepping into a different world. Music seemed to be infused in the air around her from the minute she got off the train; slow saxophone’s and staccato snares, trumpets whisking a melody away into the melting summer breeze. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, taking in the atmosphere. She walked around some of the city; wandering into the French Quarter and marveling at the architecture and listening to accented French coming in fits and stops from the residents who tipped their hats at her as she passed. Eventually, she found herself in a kind of civic center and asked for directions to the town that Eugene had written to her from. The kindly older man working there, showed her where it was on a map and arranged for her to get a cab down.

The bayou, as she learned the whole area was referred to, was almost like something out of a fairy tale. Swamps, running into jungle forests and moss covering everything from the trees to the roofs of the houses half-hidden from the road. The cab dropped her off at a little general store/café that the driver in question assured her would be helpful if she was looking for someone in particular.

A few curious eyes lit on her when she walked into the open aired restaurant, but the stares were without hostility and her purpose was quickly deduced correctly because a kind looking woman with wild grey-touched curls in a faded red dress came up to her with a smile.

“You look like a woman who could use a hand,” she said, eyeing the suitcase and bag at Renee’s feet, “I’m Bea, what can I help you with, sugar?”

“I was told that you could help me find someone?” Renee asked.

Bea’s eyes widened and she whistled lowly. “Honey, that is some pretty voice you got there. As for help, I know just about every person in this neck of the woods; and if I don’t, then they ain’t here. Who you looking for?”

“Eugene Roe.”

A fond smile settled on Bea’s lined face. “That boy got popular in Europe,” she commented and then led Renee over to one of the wrought iron tables in the café. “You sit tight and I’ll give ‘im a call, alright?”

Renee thanked her and sat there, nerves suddenly erupting her stomach as she waited. It had been so long and she had basically invited herself. Maybe he’d be cross? But no, why send a welcoming committee in Philadelphia otherwise? She drummed her knuckles on the table and was only interrupted when Bea set some iced, amber colored liquid in front of her; condensation beading at the tall glass.

“Sweet tea,” Bea explained, “It’s a staple down here. Best get used to it, if you’re staying.”

Renee took a drink, flavor bursting across her tongue. The coolness of it hit her and relaxed some of the tension that had sprung up. “It’s good,” she said, a little surprised.

“Glad to hear it,” Bea replied, grinning. She patted Renee on the shoulder and then twirled away to serve another customer.

When Eugene finally arrived, it took Renee a moment to recognize him. Gone were the worn green army fatigues, and in its place was a pair of denim jeans and a button up checked shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His black hair was a bit longer and his skin had lost the deathly pale hue that she got used to seeing in Bastogne, warming to a pale caramel under his home’s beating sun. She couldn’t stop the smile from lighting up her face at the sight and stood up, so that he could see her better.

Sure enough, he spotted her and froze in the middle of the café before a more subdued, but no less genuine version of his own, smile crossed his features. He resumed his walk and when he was standing in front of her and – after a moment’s hesitation – gently pulled her into his arms. The breath she’d been painfully holding in her lungs gave way, and she breathed in the woodsy citrus kick of his aftershave as she held on.

“It’s good to see you,” he said into her hair, before pulling away to look at her.

“Vous aussi,” she said which softened his smile into loveliness.

“These your bags?”

“Oui. They are.”

“Well, okay then,” he reached down and picked them up, “I got the guest room made up,” he stopped for a moment and then shrugged, expression sheepish, “unless you’d rather stay at an inn? Your choice, o’ course.”

“Your guest room is fine,” she said, following him out of the café, where they waved goodbyes to Bea, who hassled them into agreeing to lunch the next day, “as long as your friend doesn’t mind?”

A series of emotions flickered over his face before settling into rueful. “Edward don’t mind; he’s the one been fretting about pillows or some such since your wire.”

The last knot of anxiety loosened in her gut at that. “Then lead on.”

Eugene’s – “Gene, I insist.” – house was a medium sized bungalow set back a little way from the dirt road and surrounded by a sparse, moss ridden wood with the nearest neighbors half-a-mile down the road. It was sweet and Renee found an instant kinship to the large dormer windows and wide porch that extended out from the house.

“It’s not much,” he said, almost sounding apologetic.

Renee refrained from saying that any standing building was stunning to her now, no matter the size or color or shape. “It’s beautiful,” she told him honestly.

They were greeted at the dog by a floppy eared beagle whose whole hindquarters wriggled when Renee leaned down to pet him. “That’s Rex,” Gene said, rolling his eyes good naturedly at the pup, “wandered into the yard one day and never left. Ain’t much of a guard dog, as you can see.”

“He doesn’t need to be. He’s lovely exactly the way he is,” she said, laughing when he took a chance to lick at her cheek.

Gene led them into the house. Renee took in the cozy decorating, lacking a bit in the way that most male driven houses did, and was examining a series of photos on an end table when the last resident of the house came bounding around the corner, stopping abruptly when he saw her. He was as Bill had described him – skinny, redhaired, eyes too big for his ugly mug – though she would argue the ‘ugly’ descriptor; he had a sweet, open face that put her at ease immediately.

“Hey,” he said, practically vibrating in anticipation, giving her a half-wave from his place in the doorway and biting his lip, “you must be Renee. It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

“Enchante, Edward. I’ve heard much about you.”

“You have? From – wait, Edward?” He looked over at Gene who was deliberately turned away, though Renee could see the hint of a pleased grin on his face. “Really, Gene; Edward?” He turned back to Renee in a mild huff. “Call me Babe, everyone does.”

“Babe,” she agreed, noticing that some of the stiffness in his frame had disappeared in the wake of the mix-up. Probably, that was Gene’s intention all along.

“Right. Are you hungry? Gene was making some kind of stew thing –”

“It’s jambalaya, Babe, you know this.”

“— before Bea called. It’ll make your senses wish they’d died, but it tastes amazing.”

Renee nodded. “I’d love to try some.”

She sat at the dining table as Gene and Babe worked seamlessly around each other in the small kitchen, and rather than feeling awkward or forgotten, both men managed to include her in their ritual, making her feel as at home for the first time since the bombs began to fall. Babe, in a similar vein to Bill, gave her all the gossip about town, while Gene corrected the most outlandish claims the redhead made (“It did not try to eat you, Babe.” “It wanted too – I could tell, stared at my leg like it was a rack of ribs.” “It was an alligator snapping turtle not an actual gator.” “Well, what he hell’s it got alligator in its name for then, huh? Huh Gene? Answer me that!”) with a well-rehearsed fondness.

The jambalaya was as Babe advertised it – amazing, but eye wateringly spicy – and was finished off with powered French pastries Gene called beignets. Gene asked about her journey and she indulged them with the story, making sure to thank them for setting Frannie and the others in her path.

“Bill says that you two must write him sometime. He was quite insistent,” she said teasingly.

Babe snorted. “Sure. Tomorrow I’ll send him a telegram: Dear Bill, screw you, Love Babe.”

She laughed and Babe grinned all the brighter for it. Gene shook his head, but his eyes kept bouncing between them with a contentedness that Renee was glad to see he was capable of. It made the restless, inadequate feelings in her heart go into hibernation. A tranquil hush came to a rest in her blood. Whatever may come, she thought she could be herself here. Perhaps even be truly happy.

It was a something to look forward too. A gift.

And she intended to enjoy it.

#it's longer than i intended #(was supposed to be a ficlet)#hopefully you like it!#*fingers crossed*#band of brothers #gift fic #renee lemaire #eugene roe #babe heffron

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notthecanadianaverage · 4 years ago

Note

All 65 ho! 😤

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

I mean I guess kind of sometimes? As someone with ADHD, object permanence is a big thing so if I don't see you, you aren't real xD

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

Um, it varies, actually. Generally speaking, I'm not afraid. But sometimes I have lots of nightmares and the darkness is awful and I will deadass sleep with the light on. Also while I'm not afraid, if I hear sounds, I am terrified xD

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Jason Mamoa. He seems like a fine person but something about his appearance triggers my fight or flight.

4. What is your favorite word?

Hippopomonstrosesquipedaliophobia

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

I think maybe either a birch or a weeping willow?

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

That's not yellow

7. What shirt are you wearing?

I'm wearing a green Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time shirt that my sister got for me a few years ago at Fan Expo.

8. What do you label yourself as?

Panromantic asexual. Gender identity wise, demigirl. I recently learned what omnisexual is and I'm curious, but I don't want to come out again so panromantic it is xD

9. Bright room or dark room?

Bright! Lots of sunlight for plants and reading!

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

I was being trained at work

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

I think 18, just because mentally I'm still there.

12. Who told you they loved you last?

My boyfriend :3 I miss him.

13. Your worst enemy?

Dickface. He called me his step daughter once and I almost fucking lost it in that Tim Hortons. I had to fight so hard not to say anything. I was also fighting some pretty rough food poisoning that week so I was not in the mood to argue xD

14. What is your current desktop picture?

On my computer? I think it's a rat xD it's either me with Cortana on my shoulder or Willow peeking through some bars, I can't remember.

15. Do you like someone?

I like my boyfriend. A lot. I mean I hope I do since we have been dating for 6 years xD but I also have a celebrity squish. Patrick Dempsey. Motherfucker. Yes. That smile. Those EYES.

16. The last song you listened to?

https://youtu.be/0Eh4b0Ge-sM

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

That power hungry cheeto. But only if I wouldn't get caught.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

Dickface. He is a child abuser and just a shitty person all around. I called him a stupid idiot on my birthday and lost my fucking mind because I didn't actually mean to and he looked PISSED.

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

I don't know who, but I would make them cuddle because I am touched starved and need a fucking hug xD

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

I'm doing this all in my phones notes so I can't add a picture, but I love my tattoos and piercings! I have both nostrils pierced, my septum and snakebites. Tattoo wise, I have the Triforce of Courage on my left hand, a small blue hard on my right thumb, a beautiful memorial rat tattoo on my left leg, Midna's Fused Shadow on my left arm and Expecto Patronum on my right wrist. I. Need. More.

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

Not gonna lie, I'd probably jerk off xD

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

If I shared it, it wouldn't be a secret.

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

I... don't know

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

I would stick with my normal Subway order: lettuce, tomato, red onions, LOTS OF PICKLES, cheese, black forest ham, mayo and salt and pepper.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

Not gonna lie, I would probably get some Subway and maybe some candle making supplies.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

California. I miss my boyfriend. Let's go.

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?

Joke's on you, I don't really drink alcohol! I would instead request all the apple juice :')

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

Pet rats for everyone!!!!

29. What is your favorite expletive?

I enjoy cunt :3

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

My little stuffed lion. I would also grab my teddy bear seeing as they are always together.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? (Tw rape for this question)

I mean... all of these experiences have made me who I am. But if i can erase one experience without changing who I am, it would be nice to not have been raped.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

I would say Indonesia because volcanoes! But I am also very gay and I don't believe that is a gay friendly country... so... maybe Japan? All of this assuming that the boyfriend is with me. If not, then California.

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

My grandpa. I really miss him... I want him to see how far I've come and I want to spend more time with him.

34. What was your last dream about?

I have been having a weird amount of sex dreams lately...

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?

Rat mom? I like to think so! Shameless plug, but I have a blog here called @ratpotatoez where you can see my beautiful chonks. I'm also on Facebook and YouTube.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

I mean yes? But not for like an overnight stay.

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

Yes

38. What is the color of your socks?

Fuck socks

39. What type of music do you like?

Depends on my mood. I love heavier, alternative rock but my heart will forever belong to Simple Plan.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

I think they're both really lovely!

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

Vanilla

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

I don't like football. The only sport I watch is hockey.

43. Do you have any scars?

I am covered in self harm scars (I'm working on covering them up with tattoos). I don't really have any scars with cool stories. I had one that went down my arm but somehow it healed??? Someone in gym class accidentally took a chunk out of my arm with their finger nail and I had a hole in my arm for the longest time!!! I also have a scar on my knee from when I was really young, maybe 3 or 4. I was balancing on some bricks in someone's garden and I lost my balance, fell, and hit my knee on the brick. I remember there being blood running all down my leg as I screamed and cried. So that was fun.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

I don't know. I do know, though, that I want to go to culinary school. I also want to go to school for creative writing.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

My weight. I gained 100+lbs when I went off my anti-depressants and I swelled up like a balloon. I've felt like shit about myself ever since.

46. Are you reliable?

I sure as shit hope so!

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

Was it worth it...?

48. Do you hold grudges?

I try not to, but I think I do ._.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

PIGEON RAT

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

"I just really want to punch this horse in the face, okay?"

51. Are you a good liar?

I think so, yes. Trauma does that to you.

52. How long could you go without talking?

When I get super super drained, I go mute. I can stop talking for days at a time.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

I once left the hair dressers with essentially what was a fucking bowl cut. Yea, I wasn't thrilled. I refused to remove my hat.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

Yes. At 3AM. Because fuck a healthy sleep schedule.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

I can do an okay British accent and an okay Indian accent.

56. What do you like on your toast?

Butter. Just butter.

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

Um... I don't remember the last time I drew. Actually, that's a lie. I tried drawing a "small town doctor" while playing Drawful. I drew a very tiny doctor with a city skyline behind him.

58. What would be you dream car?

Literally anything with the popup headlights.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

I talk to myself in the shower. Granted, I do that everywhere xD it's the only way I can work through my thoughts. I also cry in the shower a lot.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

Yes. We can't be the only ones here.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

I don't really have a favourite. But I do like D. Mostly because it's the first letter of my boyfriends name, but also it reminds me of a woman I helped while working in tech support. She needed help figuring out her gif keyboard so I helped and she was so excited when I told her how to search for gifs. She then started giggling like a little girl saying she wondered what might happen if she searched for DICK. She made my day xD I think about her a lot. I hope she's doing well.

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

Don't do this to me...

Dragons are obviously amazing but haVE YOU EVER SEEN A DINOSAUR?!?!? LIKE THOSE THINGS ARE REAL. THEY WERE ALIVE. THEY FUCKING RULED THE EARTH. HAVE YOU SEEN A STEGOSAURUS?!?!?!?!?

64. What do you think about babies?

I like babies a lot. Like so much. I have super colourful hair, too, so they seem fascinated with me :') but their little chubby cheeks omg

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

Fun fact: I actually really like the smell of wet dog. It's kind of a really comforting smell.

#yaaaaaay #ho #thank you #tumblr sucks

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ts-hogwarts-au · 4 years ago

Text

This AU (at least what I'll be doing with the blog) will be mostly writing, incorrect quotes, one-shots, and drabbles. Also haven't decided on doing everything platonic/general, or doing ships so I don't know.

Please send asks, headcannons, or incorrect quotes, or almost anything (swf, of course, so everyone can enjoy my blog. And no anon hate.) Thanks, wizards and witches!

~Niran

•••••••••

To avoid any information getting jumbled up later on, I have compiled a list of things that I thought were the most important about the AU, so with no further introduction, enjoy!

•••••••••

Headmaster: Professor Astor

Head of Ravenclaw: Professor Shepherd

Head of Slytherin: Professor Storme

Head of Hufflepuff: Professor Valentine

Head of Gryffindor: Professor Loughty

------------------------------------------------------------

• Patton Trench

•Patton is orginally from Wexford, Ireland, Giving him a soft tone but strong accent in his voice. If he gets fed up enough, he does curse but it's either in his native language, or in such a strong accent that you can't decipher what he said.

•He doesn't have a very good relationship with his parents, so he become the friend to help out with family problems, also seeming to fit in with the position because he's the oldest in the group. He's the dad/therapist friend, he feels good about helping other people, but always brushes his problems off with a "I'm ok, I'd rather you not worry about me" and a smile.

•At school his favorite subject is Care of Magical Creatures. He doesn't play Quidditch like a couple of the other's, but makes sure to go to every game to support either his house's team, or one, if not both of his friends in different houses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Logan Hawkes

•Logan is from a town named Islington which is found in North London. That being said he has a surprisingly posh accent, that everyone who is able to, makes fun of. He knows it's all in good fun so he doesn't make too big of a deal of it.

•He is labeled the "babysitter" of the group. He has to break up stupid arguments, make sure nobody is doing anything idiotic, and willingly helps everybody else with their homework, or anything else they need to keep up (whether or not said person is willing to be helped).

•His favorite subject is Muggle Art. It's an extracurricular class that he was prompted to join by Professor Shepherd. He's been a prefect for two years, and is now the current Head Boy for Ravenclaw.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Virgil Spinster

• Virgil is from North Dakota. He just has an american accent and has decided to copy everyone else's accent (mockingly) because he hates his own standard accent with all of his heart.

• He's the friend who "accidentally" sleeps in, causing himself to eat late, and end up skipping class entirely. His usually gets the stuff from whatever class he dipped from from Logan, who is both the bane of his existence, and an absolute savior. He learns begrudgingly and with most things he does not particularly care about doing anything over the bare minimum he needs to pass.

• Virgil's favorite extracurricular subject is Ghoul Studies, while his favorite thing to do is playing quidditch. He is a chaser for the hufflepuff team, he's got a reputation for being good at dodging because he is very aware of his surroundings at all time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Janus Adler

• Janus is a selective mute the cause of that being loved about you won't come save me you're going to don't call me crazy you love me but you won't come save me an accident that caused a vocal disorder. He uses sign language (ASL - American Sign Language) which has resulted in the rest of the group having to learn ASL (signing and understanding) to be able to communicate with him. He doesn't physically talk to anyone but Logan, seeing he's the least judgmental or opinionized about the raspiness of Janus' voice. He likes to share his thoughts about lessons they had together that day and loves to talk about philosophy. Together they always have nice, and calm conversations.

• He were graced with the lable of "the fed up friend". Since he usually relies on his expressions to convey what he feels. He are very, very, expressionate, to the point that Virgil has what he calls "the encyclopedia of Janus' expressions" just to make it easier for everybody else.

• His favorite class, along with Patton, is Care of Magical Creatures. He always takes a liking to the bigger creatures, always seeming curious about a new one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Roman Bishop

• The Bishop twins are from the urban town of Glasgow, Scotland. They both have slight Scottish accents, that makes them interesting to listen to, but nothing strong enough to make what they say unintelligible. They're both so competitive, so anything they do results in either them both being upset, or one continuously bragging about it for the next week and a half.

• Less of a planned chaotic vibe, and more of a instantaneous and daring one. They're very much the one who has most definitely broken the most bones, and completed the most dangerous dares. They are why the group doesn't play Truth or Dare for that exact reason. They learn just to be able to keep their position as gryffindor's head chaser.

• Honestly, they spends most of their time listening to the frog choir when they're not at quidditch practice. They are yes, gryffindor's head chaser which did not gain them any bragging rights, except for when gryffindor wins games.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• Remus Bishop

• (Repeating) The Bishop twins are from the urban town of Glasgow, Scotland. They both have slight Scottish accents, that make them interesting to listen to, but nothing strong enough to make what they say unintelligible. They're both so competitive, so anything they do results in either them both being upset, or one continuously bragging about it for the next week and a half.

• Less of a instantaneous and daring vibe, and more of a planned chaotic. The twins had gotten most things banned for the group, thanks to either Logan or Patton. Remus, on the other hand, brought friendly prank wars to the group. They weren't allowed to hurt each other, and they had to clean up the mess, but by the end Remus claimed bragging rights.

• Their favorite subject is potions because e x p l o s i o n s. They have a very mad-scientist aura in that class just because it's a class based around trial and error. They're also the ravenclaw head chaser which makes games that are ravenclaw vs. gryffindor so very fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Semi-important things:

•The encyclopedia of Janus' expressions: it is a black and white leather notebook Virgil was supposed to use for Charms. This thing is brought out in almost every conversation, because for the group there is no in between with absolute idiocy or a genius idea, and the magical notebook is the only way they know Janus' opinion.

• "Being crow": It's a phrase for when Virgil's being an asshole and needs to dial it back some.

• Posture stick: A stick that Janus uses to correct the Bishop twins' postures while using binders (usually just him, tapping them with it from across the room or something). Janus is not going to let them get away with that after all he taught them about how to bind safely >:(

--More may be added--

#hogwarts #au list #character info #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #it's an au #please send asks #or headcanons #i just love them #so much #i wanna talk #to people

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bluetortoist · 5 years ago

Text

Questionnaire 1

Cosmo

What is their name, gender, and age?

And he is a 5yr(26 year old), male tortoiseshell Manx cat

What are three adjectives to describe them?

Well Mannered, Wide-eyed, Free spirited

Do they have a human home or are they a stray? If they have a human home, what is their home life like? If they are a stray, what is life like on the streets?

Technically a stray, but the family of the house he used to live by would give him and his family some scraps and water sometimes.

What is their ‘role’ within the tribe, or what are they known for? (Ex: Tugger is the curious cat/rockstar, Gus is the theatre cat, Mistoffelees is the magician, Munkustrap is the Jellicle Protector, Jelly is seen as a caretaker, etc)

He’ll probably be known as “Cosmo the Swingin’ Cat”. He doesn’t have a role yet, but everyone likes his presence and to hear some of his stories from the country. He is good with the kittens, being sort of a big kitten himself.

Who are their best friends? You can include characters from the show or tag other people’s OC’s. How popular are they?

He's sort of popular. His main friends that he made have been Bastion, Damus, Hayato and Coquette and Marikit. But it's safe to say that he's made friends with nearly everyone, some are interested in him because of his accent and that he lacks a tail.

What is their favorite food? Do they prefer human food or something they’ve hunted?

He likes chicken and eggs, but isnt picky either. He used to live in the backwoods of the country, so he knows how to hunt. But hell get away with a bit of begging when he wants a taste of human food.

Do they have any accessories? Scars? Why or why not?

He wears suspenders and baggy pants along with a newsboy cap hat.

What style of dance do they work best in?

Tap dance and swing

Do they have any sort of magic? Do they fear magic?

He was a little scared at first because he had never seen magic or grew up with it before. But now he is really enchanted by it.

Any fears?

He is of birds. The big ones in particular like hawks and owls. He saw one snatch up an older cat across the street where he used to live one day as a kitten and it has haunted him ever since.

Do they believe in love? If so, what is their “type” and how do they act when they are in love? If not, then why?

He is a romantic at heart, so he believes in love. When he is in love, he tries to hide his face with his hat from how big and goofy he's smiling.

Do they personally know anyone who has gone up to the Heaviside layer? Do they believe in the Heaviside?

No he doesn't. He never even heard about the Heaviside Layer. When he does, he sometimes thinks that his Ma and Pa might be there.

Any passions or hobbies? (Ex: Dance, hunting, etc)

Besides dancing, he likes to do woodwork making all kinds of figures.

If a song was sung about them at the Jellicle Ball, what would it be about?

It would be about Cosmo and his voyage from the states to England and would definitely have swing kind of music. He would sing about his life on the countryside and his adventures going from boats to planes to trains traveling across the sea to where he is now.

What are their thoughts on some of the main characters in the show? (Ex: Tugger, Munk, Jenny, you get to choose!)

It's safe to say he likes nearly everyone. He likes to talk to Skimbleshanks and Jenny; they remind him of his parents. He's friends with Alonzo and Plato and Tumblebrutus. He finds Tugger a little strange, but he doesn't think badly of him.

Do they have any secrets they are hiding?

None

Questionnaire 2

What are they like on the outside?

He’s a polite, happy-go-lucky gentleman who kind of has a flirtatious streak, but is also very curious and adventurous when it comes to new surroundings.

How do others perceive them?

Some might of him as a childish hick or a shameless flirt who knows nothing about the world around him and doesn’t know when he is being taken advantage of.

What are they actually like on the inside? Are they similar to how they are on the outside, or totally different?

he is a little bit of both because in some ways, they way some see him is completely true. But he is actually smarter than he looks and is more sensitive to other's feelings than some think. He knows that some things that he says come out a different kind of way, but he means no harm and thinks anyone should be treated the way he'd want to be treated.

How many cats truly know who they are on the inside? Does your character often show who they truly are?

He is an open book. He doesnt hide anything about him.

What makes your character appealing to other cats? What reason do others have to like them?

A lot of cats like to hear him talk because of his accent and him having no tail is a conversation starter. He will joke about having no tail and make up a story about how he lost it.

What flaws does your character have? Do they give anyone any reason to dislike them?

He is a bit gullible and can be tricked easily when not paying attention to his surroundings. Sometimes things that he says sounds more like flirting than what he thinks is a compliment and that gets him in trouble sometimes.

Can they fight?

He can. But even with how toned he is in some areas, he has a lean build, so he’s not too strong

Do they often get into fights? What do they get into fights over?

No. He tries not to get into fights, but he will if necessary

Who are their parents? Are they alive? Do we know what they are like personality wise? Does your character have any sort of contact with them?

His Ma and Pa have passed away a long time ago of old age, but he knows they’re in a better place.

Do they have any siblings or other relatives?

He has no other siblings, but considers the neighbourhood cats back home part of his family.

(If they have a home) How did they end up in their current home? (If they’re a stray) How did they end up on the streets?

He has no current home as of yet. He has just been sleeping wherever it was dry and safe. Hes been sleeping in a wood box outside of a restaurant for the time being.

What was their childhood like?

He was born a stray living with his Ma' and Pa' in a barn next to wildlife in the American countryside. He was taught how to hunt and dance, but was also taught manners and being a good tom. It was a laidback life on the farm and going into the human town, but out in the woods was pretty tough and you had to always be on your guard.

What was the worst experience they ever had to go through, in their opinion?

2 experiences. one being when he saw the hawk catch his neighbor up as a kid. And the other where he wasn’t paying attention and was nearly stomped on by a farm bull.

Do they potentially have a crush or a mate? Have they ever been in love?

He comes to like Marikit (another friends oc from discord) when he first arrives. He has had a few crushes, but they were from as a kitten. He a little embarrassed by it now, but one time when he was younger he tried to put the moves on a fox whom he thought was another cat. but he soon realized what she was and was kinda interrupting her waiting for someone else.

Who do they look up to?

Besides his parents, he looked up to his neighbor who was an old cat before he was snatched away.

Greatest achievement?

He thinks with how much he has traveled without getting thrown off is a pretty good accomplishment. He also feels kinda proud that he rode on a running horse once (even though him and his claws were the reason it was running in a frenzy)

Do they have any pet peeves?

Not really.

How do they react to a compliment? An insult?

To a compliment, he's pretty humble, but depending on the cat, he’d try not to get too flustered and grin like an idiot. To an insult, he's not one to get too upset about things, but if it does too far and if it's someone else getting the flack, that would be enough to get him pissed off.

What are they best at?

Dancing, Singing, Woodcrafting, Sneaking and Begging

What do they often fail at?

He might take a joke too far or too long, so he ends up apologizing.

What assumptions do others make about them and how does your oc react to them?

Some might label him as a dumb, naive hick while others see him as a very sweet and energetic guy to be around.

How many languages do they speak? Do they have an accent?

He can only speak english. And he has a southern accent.

Do they label their sexuality? (Pan, Gay, straight, etc)

Male, Bisexual

What is their ‘outlet’? How do they express themselves?

Woodwork and working with metal. Besides wood dolls, he has little side projects of sculptures or figures made out of metal. They take a while to make though so he only has a few completed.

Are they secretly worried about anything? (Worried about a friend, the future, family, etc.

He's thinks about the neighbor's and other animal friends back at home and worries about their well being sometimes. He might want to visit back once in a while.

(Extra, for the creator)

Are you currently in a rp with your oc?

yes!

Why did you decide to make an oc?

I thought it would be cute to have a little country bumpkin-like cat from overseas visiting London

How did you pick their name?

No particular reason. Mostly because I thought it sounded funny and fitting for him and his personality

Are they modeled off any specific breed?

Yes! After a tortoiseshell manx cat

Why did you pick that design for them?

Because I wanted to make a cat who would joke around about having no tail.

--- Yup. people are probably sick of it by now, but heres some more Cats oc’s in your face! both questionnares belong to @magical-marvelous-mistoffelees

#cats musical #cats the musical #cats ocs #my ocs #long post

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nadiafm · 5 years ago

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( camila morrone, cisfemale ) hey ! have you seen NADIA PEREZ around ? they work as a ICE SKATING INSTRUCTOR at big bear resort, but they must be off their shift by now. well, if you do see them can you let me know ? they’re 21 years old & they’ve been working here for 11 MONTHS. they tend to be +AMOROUS & +CONVIVIAL, but can also be -LICENTIOUS & -WARY. the other employees have labeled them THE ROMANTIC. thanks a lot ! gold hoops , floral mini dresses , pink lipgloss , overly dramatic eyeshadow , freckles specked across your nose , mascara running down your cheeks , tequila shots chased with salt and lime , lana del rey blasting in your headphones , mirror selfies , golden hour , glitter and rhinestones , blue raspberry dum dums , piled up books you keep forgetting to read.

hey y’all !! i’m so excited for this wow. i’m sam, i’m 22, and i live in pst !! i’m a sucker for cooking shows and dogs and candles. but more importantly...this is my freaking baby nadia, an absolute idiot with a heart of gold ! i already know this intro is going to be too long but bare with me i will include a tldr at the bottom i promise. also hmu on discord to plot ! capricornmom#1278

here is nadia’s pinterest & here is her playlist

aesthetics : gold hoops , floral mini dresses , pink lipgloss , overly dramatic eyeshadow , freckles specked across your nose , mascara running down your cheeks , tequila shots chased with salt and lime , lana del rey blasting in your headphones , mirror selfies , golden hour , glitter and rhinestones , blue raspberry dum dums , piled up books you keep forgetting to read

character parallels : jackie burkhart ( that 70′s show ) rachel green ( friends ) , cassie howard ( euphoria ) , brooke davis ( one tree hill ) , bianca stratford ( 10 things i hate about you ) , april ( palo alto ) , erica vandross ( flower ) , gigi & triple a ( booksmart ) , snooki ( jersey shore ) , jessica day ( new girl )

full name : nadia paloma perez

birthday : july 23, 1998

zodiac : cancer sun , pisces moon , pisces rising . god help this emotional ass girl

nationality : american

religion : roman catholic

sexual & romantic orientation : bisexual , biromantic

hometown : aventura , florida ( 20 minutes outside of miami )

languages spoken : english ( fluent ) , spanish ( fluent ) , french ( still learning , takes it in school , somewhat conversational )

likes : candy ( sour punch straws , lollipops ) , watching soccer games ( messi stan till she dies ) , rex orange county , writing , magazines , making empanadas with her abuela , romantic comedies ( her fav is how to lose a guy in 10 days ) , tequila sodas , sex , lana del rey , chipotle burritos , iced chai lattes with almond milk from starbucks , gossip girl , craft beer , margaret atwood

dislikes : quinoa , nuts in things like salad or cookies , star wars , watching golf , oatmeal , church , screamo music , california ( a grudge ) , spoiled rich kids , condescending business majors , quentin tarantino ( and his avid fans )

BACKGROUND

Born and raised in South Florida, a little aways from Miami ! Her mother, Paloma, was an Adventura native while her father, Santiago, was an immigrant from Argentina. Her parents met in college when Paloma was studying abroad in Argentina. They fell in love, rather quickly, and the rest was history. They had planned on moving back to America together, but Santiago’s visa was denied. So, after only four months of knowing each other and 2.5 months of dating, they got married.

Turns out sometimes you should know your partner better before getting married !! shocker right. It wasn’t so bad at first, though. They were young and in love and their honeymoon phase seemed to last forever, until it didn’t.

By the time Nadia was born, they’d already begun to realize each other’s faults and flaws. Santiago was a good looking guy, and with his thick Argentine accent, he tended to come off as overly friendly and at times overtly flirty. Paloma was jealous and needy. It never seemed to mesh well when she thought her husband was flirting with every other mom in the neighborhood.

So, for the majority of Nadia’s childhood, all she remembered from her parent’s marriage was them fighting. She had a close relationship with the both of them, though, and she was particularly close with her father. He was her biggest supporter !! Always hyping her up. He was the one signing her up for sports like soccer (they’re a huge soccer family, the only time her parents weren’t fighting was during Argentina games), gymnastics, dance, and ice skating. Her favorite was soccer, and her for most of her adolescent years, her dad coached her team. They formed a really close bond because of it.

The marriage was sort of non exinsistant at this point, but in some sort of last attempt to salvage any love they might have had for each other, Santiago and Paloma had a baby. It was more Paloma’s idea than anything. Santiago, at that point, was only sticking around for Paloma. She was seven when her little sister was born, Caterina, and Nadia absolutely adored her. They may have been seven years a part, but they were the best of friends.

When Nadia was twelve, she woke up with a note on her bed side table. It was from her father, and it read: “Nads, I’m so sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to your face. I wish I was stronger. I am so proud of you and I promise I will be in touch. Te amo. Papa” He hadn’t left anybody else a note, and not even a word to her mother. As close as she was to her mother and sister, she couldn’t help but blame them for her father leaving. Still, she was pretty certain she’d hear from him soon. That he’d come back once he cleared his head. Only, he didn’t.

Word spread pretty fast around school about what had happened. Suddenly, Nadia was a charity case. PTA moms were coming up to her and offering to bring her lunch or dinner, if she needed it. She was the girl who’s dad left them high and dry. It didn’t help that on top of that, her body was going through changes much more rapidly than any of her friends. She already had gotten her period, and by the time she was in seventh grade she was wearing a D cup bra. So in addition to the sudden spotlight as the girl without a dad, boys started treating her differently. Boys that had never talked to her previously suddenly wanted to be her friend. In eighth grade, Hayden Walker rolled up a small piece of paper and shot it like a basketball into her cleavage. He high-fived his friends after and thanked her for the backboard.

So middle school was rough. And while Nadia had had one or two boyfriends during that time, she’d never gone past kissing them. That’s not how the rumors went, though. That was the part that hurt the most. The things people said, especially the things girls said about her. Girls she thought were her friends.

At the end of eighth grade, during the summer before high school, she got a text from her dad. The first one in 2 years! She’d idolized him her whole life, so obviously she was ready to forgive him as soon as she heard from him. He told her he was living in California and Nadia was like, I’m sold! Let’s go! Only her mother was like...are you fucking insane you are not going to California to visit that man. Long story short, she found a cheap cross country bus ticket and essentially ran away from home to see her dad! He was shocked she had come at all, despite his text message leading her to believe he wanted to see her. Apparently it was more of a courtesy text, a text so he could let go of the guilt of leaving an entire family behind. Because in the two years he’d been gone, he managed to start a new one. He had a new wife, and two newborn twins.

Nadia was pretty furious, but she stayed the summer anyways. She had full intentions of starting high school in California and not going home to Florida. Things were tense at her father’s, though. Her “step mother” obviously didn’t like having her around, and though her bond with her father was slowly rekindling, there was still a sort of distance between them. But they were trying to make it work, at the very least.

Then came the end of the summer. Nadia had made a few friends around the neighborhood, and was invited to an end of summer kickback with a bunch of high schoolers. Naturally, she lied about her age at the party. She was 14, but told everyone she was 16, and everyone seemed to overlook her baby face thanks to her ass and tits. At the end of the night, a boy drove her home, and the two ended up hooking up in the car. Apparently she had misjudged how much her father actually cared, because he’d waited up for her to come home, and after seeing car headlights out front, he’d stormed outside to find her in the car with a high school boy, half naked. After allowing her to gather her bearings, he essentially humiliated her right there on the front lawn, screaming about how irresponsible she was amongst other things. The majority of the conversation has since been blacked out from her mind, but she’ll never forget the look on her dad’s face when he said, “you’re nothing, you’re just like your mother, and i don’t want you anywhere near my family.” whew !! ya girl was hurt.

So, obviously, she was back on the way to mom’s ! Honestly at that point her mom wasn’t even mad at her for leaving she was just thankful she was back.

GODDD okay this is getting long so I need to wrap this up. I haven’t even gotten to personality KJSHG Okay let’s wrap up high school in one bullet point. Basically she sub consciously searched for every man’s approval because she lacked the approval she needed from her father! This meant lots of boyfriends and never saying no. In her four years of high school, she was maybe single for a total of like ... seven months. not seven consecutive months lmao, 7 months in between relationships.

one of those boys was connor perch, her first official boyfriend freshman year ! they were really sweet n young and nadia really thought she was in love. but then she gave him a blowjob and this mf recorded it ! and nadia found out after the fact, asked him to delete it, he said it was just for himself to look at, only to find out he’d sent it to his friends a few days later. so that basically set the precedent for how she’d be treated the next four years of high school ! she tried to act like it didn’t bother her but dang. high schoolers can be very mean !

oh my god i seriously have to wrap up okay this will be quick. basically when she was a senior in high school she went on a ski trip to big bear and met a boy named ethan, who she like fell in love with so fast like literally a week give it a rest girl. he was from Colorado but when she left they kept in touch and basically talked every day for the rest of the school year and throughout the summer. She’d decided to apply to Boulder University to be closer to him because this time it really felt like the real thing ! SURPRISE AGAIN ! She got to school and found out he had a girlfriend. She was really mf heartbroken over that. But did she learn her lesson? No. Does she still fall in love with anyone who looks in her direction? Yes.

Okay and lastly she has been working all sorts of jobs throughout college because her mom is helping her pay for tuition and rent so she’s gotta cover spending money ! She ended up getting a job at Big Bear Resort during her last winter break as an ice skating instructor because she used to do ice skating back in the day. Now she works at Big Bear during her school breaks and on some weekends !

TLDR/Tidbits

Hopeless romantic with major daddy issues

Will overanalyze every interaction she has with anyone because she thinks they might like her

EXTREMELY GULLIBLE

Probably will have a crush if you are even remotely nice to her

Really dumb but means well. Literally no common sense. Complete bimbo

Cries A LOT. Complete crybaby. Happy or sad she’s probably crying

Heart of gold!! She really always means well even when she fucks up so bad I SWEAR her heart was in the right place

Can outdrink anyone. She would drink a 6ft5in, 200 pound man under the table any day

Tequila is her choice of drink, but vodka is for her #sadgirlhours

Obsessed with Rosalía, Lana Del Rey, & Rex Orange County. And also 2010 bangers. Anything she can shake her ass to !

She pretty much used to exclusively wear mini dresses because when she realized everyone was just gonna sexualize her anyway, she was like FUCK IT, i’ll show my ass n titties n legs. Except it’s fucking like negative degrees in Colorado so she can’t do that ! Bummer. (she’ll still probably find ways to wear mini dresses)

Obsessed with makeup!! She loves doing adventurous things with eyeshadows and lipsticks like ok euphoria

Kinda crazy. Major crackhead vibes especially when she’s drunk! She loves going out, she’ll go out on a Tuesday, she just likes to have fun ok and dance on tables and make out with cute people

She’ll have a one night stand but just know for HER she’ll probably get attached. I’m so sorry it won’t last that long but she’ll pine for at least a week

ok that is all i’m so sorry for this shit show of an intro but here is a messy list of wc !

#bigbearintro #literally so pointlessly long but

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golgoterror · 5 years ago

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Alright, this is ungodly long, but I just wanted to talk about something regarding Jake.

A lot of this fandom -- at least, from what I’ve seen -- label Jake as stupid. Some may even say Jake and smart are antonyms. This could not be further from the truth. It almost irritates me how much the fandom places this mischaracterization on him. Also, I get to talk about The Lad™ for about ten pages worth of words on Google docs, which is always very, very fun for me.

Well, first things first, let’s talk about the child genius and multi-billionaire polymath that is Jake English.

Puzzle Modus.

Let’s begin with something small. Jake’s modus is of puzzlekind! This is described as:

It's quite a handy modus, allowing you to captchalogue objects of any size, as long as you can fit them all in a finite space by maneuvering the cards around like a big game of Tetris. You like it because it keeps you sharp for solving any puzzles you might find when you go out raiding hallowed tombs, which is never. (x)

He likes puzzles! This is a huge headcanon I absolutely adore that has a basis in the comic: He’s a puzzles guy! This is just sort of a neat little fact about him that I adore to the moon and back. Just the idea of Jake fiddling about with a Rubik’s Cube is kind of adorable.

This is how he goes about doing everything every day of his life. I think that’s just amazing! And incredibly smart of him, I might add.

Skaianet.

Jake is shown in the credits to take over Skaianet after the game ended. For those unfamiliar, Skaianet made many things for the game, including but not limited to: the interstellar travel we see, transportalizers, the lab by Rose’s house, all Jake’s fancy-schmancy computers, and Sburb itself. In the beta timeline, Grandpa Harley founded Skaianet. In the alpha timeline, Grandma English did. I know Jake didn’t start it up and trying to pass off his alt-timeline self as him is a bit far-fetched at best, but he had the spoons to take it over. I think that speaks volumes for Jake’s intelligence -- this implies, at the very least, he can understand mathematics and physics at a high level. Remind you of someone we already know?

It is also important to note that Jake does, in fact, build the company back from the ground up, because it went to shit before his grandmother died:

GT: Pretty sure her company made a tidy fortune til it went belly up. At least i still have a few of her knickknacks for keepsakes. (x)

So he built an interstellar company back up -- using what his intelligent grandmother had once used -- to being very useful and practical once again.

As someone with a degree in mathematics and about to finish a degree in physics, I can say this sort of work would for sure require at the very least a decent understanding of quantum mechanics, statistical mechanics, electrodynamics, calculus (vector and differential forms), ordinary and partial differential equations, and perhaps other things like topology. I don’t know about you -- and I’m probably tooting my own horn a bit by saying this -- but I think that’s pretty nifty, if I do say so myself.

Actor.

Once again, I’m reaching into the credits to show that Jake has become a movie star after the game ends. Memorizing all those lines, slipping into characters... Being an actor is no easy feat.

( Side note: This leads into my headcanon that Jake can imitate accents and voices on a whim. No more arguing about whether he has a British, American, or Australian accent -- you’re all right! )

And I would like to add he has two jobs! Skaianet and being a movie star! This guy’s a fucking polymath for Christ’s sake.

Reading People.

Let’s start of simple: Brain Ghost Dirk. I can hear the outcries now of Dirk’s powers being the cause for this. And, yes, I can’t ignore Dirk’s influence in this, but Jake’s hope powers were also needed for the projection to come alive. And the fact he was able to make such a startlingly accurate projecting of Dirk in his own mind is astounding -- even BGD himself thinks so!

TT: You could view me as a projection of the real Dirk within your mind, as expressed through all of your thought patterns about him. TT: So I'm kind of a splinter of his corporeal self who happens to live in your awareness. TT: I'm a startlingly close approximation to the real thing, for all intents and purposes. GT: Just how startlingly close are we talking? TT: I'm not going to give you a bogus percentage like the glasses cause that's not my shtick. TT: But pretty damn close. (x)

A very deep understanding of the other is needed for Jake to do this. That is pretty fucking incredible. He can clearly read people really well -- he had a few times where he was cluing in on Jane and Dirk have feelings for him:

TG: its one of those things jane likes about u so much GT: It is? TG: which TG: errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr im not supposed to talk about 2 u evr so nm GT: Talk about what? TG: nope GT: You mean how um... GT: Well a way in which i suppose... TG: no nope GT: Jane is prone to looking upon me with what i fathom to be more than just friendly affection? (x)

TT: I guess call it an extra birthday present. But instead of a present that's awesome, consider it more like a weird confession that may change the way you feel about me. GT: Whoa uh... GT: Dirk are you... uh... GT: Saying what i think? (x)

He’s not completely clueless on people! In fact, he seems to have a really good understanding of his friends. That’s something a lot of people seem to forget because of the incident that I will be getting to later on.

Fending For Himself.

I’ve already written quite a bit on this, but I’ll sum it up here: Jake is exceptionally good at living in the wild and taking care of himself. Sort of like a wild garden; he doesn’t need to be taken care of. Survival skills, especially around fighting and fending off things, aren’t something everyone has. This, once again, counts in his favour, even if it doesn’t line-up with “book smarts”.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

That’s five things! It’s clear Jake is, in fact, a polymath and incredibly intelligent. So, what’s with the fandom painting him as being dumb? What’s with people actually thinking he’s stupid? I think we can all take several wild guesses as to why that’s the case.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Takes things literally.

This is something that plagues Jake quite a lot. Case in point:

GT: Wow like the epic kevin costner film? TT: Almost exactly. Especially by the same degree of shittiness. GT: Oh man does that mean you have to drink your own pee?????? TT: You get used to the taste. Welcome it, even. TT: That takes about 15 days in a row of hard piss drinking though. GT: Ewwwwwwwwwwww no dude. No ew. :( TT: Relax, I don't drink any goddamn piss, ok? GT: Oh ok. Whew. (x)

But, well, let’s address the elephant in the room. The chat I laughed so hard at when I read it the first time due to pure, unadulterated second-hand embarrassment: Jake asking Jane if she had feelings for him.

Let’s analyze this, shall we? Jake starts off by being vague as all Hell, and I’ll spare those details, until finally...

GT: Just come out and say it. Do you fancy me? GG: No! GT: I see. GT: Very well then. GT: Jeez i mustve really misread that one! I feel like kind of a bone head now. (x / x)

Okay, she says no, and he backs off. That’s fine and dand--

GG: No!!!!!! GG: Oh my God, what am I saying here? GG: Jake, I didn't mean it! I didn't want to make you feel that way! GT: Now jane lets not backpedal here. GT: Youve spoken the truth and i greatly appreciate and respect you for that. GT: But now that i think about it you know what? GG: ... GG: No? :( GT: Please dont take this the wrong way but your answer is actually kind of a relief! (x)

... Oh, right. Yeah. It keeps going. It just keeps--

GT: Actually since youve made your feelings apparent and only see me as a friend that makes it a lot easier! GG: Haha, yes! GG: Friends!!!! GT: Maybe you could help me sort out some stuff that has been weighing on me lately? GG: Well what are friends for Jake!!!!! (x)

Sweet Jesus, Jake.

GG: Me? GG: HOO HOO HOO! GG: I'm just GG: Terrific! GG: I'm feeling so... GG: Friendly!!! GG: I clearly just want to be a good friend and bring all my AMAZING FRIENDLINESS to bear on your problems. GG: Friendlystyle! Ahahahah? GG: Shit I mean GG: Ahahahah! GT: Thats aces. Jane youre a sweetheart. (x)

Alright, alright, enough! You all remember the fucking chat.

Regardless, it’s very apparent Jake takes things at face value. I also will cite him talking to Jane before her birthday, but not list examples, because what happened above will just happen once again.

Okay, so he takes things at face value. What’s wrong with that? He trusts people to not lie to his face -- to not sugarcoat things or beat around any bushes. Perhaps I’m projecting a bit, but I do the same damn thing. I think a lot of people do! I don’t think reading things as fact over text is a good measure of someone’s intellect. All it does is show he has issues with communication. Okay, so he struggles with one thing. Sue me.

Doesn’t catch things right away.

Yeah okay I’m just gonna dump a few examples of this.

GT: Haha wow. Must have been a hell of a guy. TT: So... TT: You're not making any connections there? GT: Where? Huh? TT: Famous comedian, about the age of your grandma, inheriting the family name of the Baroness... TT: Not ringing a bell? GT: What are you talking about! Dirk stop speaking in riddles and keep telling the story i am on tenterhooks here! TT: Ok, well it's not like it's that important. Just a super obvious thing that'll probably occur to you later when you're looking in the fridge you don't have, at which point you'll feel like an idiot. GT: Oh my god you can be one opaque motherfucker just clue me in bro! TT: Nah, it'll be funnier this way. GT: STRIIIIIIDEEEERRRRRRRR!!!!! TT: Moving on. (x)

GT: Whats going on? TT: Took you long enough to figure it out. TT: Pages really are a slow burning class. Damn. GT: Figure what out! TT: You're asleep. (x)

This leads into the point above. His mind doesn’t work that way -- but that doesn’t mean he’s not intelligent. He needs everything laid out in front of him so he can make the connections and understand what’s happening, but there’s no real harm in this, and it certainly doesn’t dictate whether the guy is “intelligent” or not.

There are many, many more examples in canon depicting Jake as having difficulties with communication and you all can open most of his pesterlogs and probably find one. I’m not going to list anymore. But, hold your horses, I swear I’m getting to a point!

Difficulty reading.

A lot of the media Jake consumes is picture-based. Movies, comics, even the puzzles are most likely spacial and probably not riddles. It’s not far to imagine Jake might not be a terribly good reader, considering nobody was really around to make him read. Of course, his grandmother was around when he was little, so he can read -- and he can read just fine. But he probably isn’t very good at it simply from lack of practice. He also has terrible grammar, something Jane picks on him for, so it’s entirely possible that’s a contributing factor. He may just have trouble reading and writing.

Speaking from experience, I have dyslexia. As such, reading and writing are incredibly hard for me. I never read the books in my literature classes -- both in English and French -- but I did get the gist of the books (enough to get a decent mark in the class at least) by watching a movie adaptation of the novel. I don’t think it’s that far-off to think Jake may, indeed, do the same thing.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

NOTE: This next part is a bit hard for me to write, because I don’t want to vilify any of you. It might not have clued in on anyone or maybe you just saw Jake as a sort of comic relief and meant no harm by it. And I hope shining a light on this will make you all think twice about the guy. However, I can’t really avoid this next part, and I may get a bit emotional in it. Just a bit of a warning.

All of the above points are just me trying to say Jake probably has undiagnosed learning disabilities and perhaps autism. I don’t think I need to go into detail about how those don’t make someone “stupid”. If you think that’s the case, fuck you. I can’t argue with ableists, much less do I actually want to.

NOTE: I wrote a thing on his speech impediments. That may be of interest too. I don’t really know, but here it is nonetheless.

My take-away message here is: just because someone struggles with socialization or other things doesn’t mean fucking anything in terms of their intelligence. Jake is very clearly smart and has the ability to read people incredibly well -- to the point of making copies of them! Perhaps it’s just a bit easy to underestimate the guy compared to other characters, though.

There are other things that muddy this up a bit, unfortunately.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Trolling.

Jake is such a fucking troll. Jesus shitting Christ, does he get a kick out of acting stupid just to make the other person look silly. Or perhaps even to make himself laugh in the process. Case in point:

uu: I WILL JUST BE YOUR PATRON DUDE. uu: OR MAYBE. YOUR PATRON MANBRO. GT: Sounds pretty gay. uu: WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? GT: Whats what? uu: GAY. WHAT'S GAY YOU IDIOT FUCK. GT: Oh right. GT: Forgive me i forget you arent familiar with all of my earth lingo. GT: Its like... GT: How do i explain. GT: You know. Its a rather old fashioned term for being jolly and festive together. GT: Like "that rollicking time we had scrumming the other eve sure was gay." uu: I SEE. uu: THEN YES. YOU ARE CORRECT. uu: THIS IS GOING TO BE GAY AS HELL. (x)

Look at his goddamn face during this exchange:

That little bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.

And these aren’t stand-alone events! Jake is very, very silly and will use the fact others see him as stupid to have a little fun. May as well, right? And, in the process, he makes others look pretty damn stupid.

But sometimes it’s a bit hard to tell when he’s acting stupid against when he’s genuinely not getting something. I think he even fools himself sometimes! So you have to be a bit careful about fake-outs. I’m sure even the other alphas have trouble deducing when he’s doing this -- which only adds to the myth of him actually being “stupid” when viewed on first-glace.

He probably also does this with crushes, purposefully ignoring the signs because he doesn’t want to deal with it or may not believe anyone could like him that way. After all, if he’s wrong, he may think himself to be conceded and having a big head. So, he ignores the signs, thus convincing himself the feelings aren’t there. Then he gets absolutely fucking bamboozled beyond belief to find out they actually do like him. But that’s just a little side-note.

Thinks he’s stupid.

This one is just a bit... Sad. Very sad. Jake genuinely does think he’s stupid. Quite a lot, really.

GT: I shoulda asked where he fit into the picture if you were raised alone. I can be dumb as a bag of penny candy sometimes. (x)

Just... Man, he’s been called and treated as stupid so many times, he’s at the point where he believes it. If you asked him, he’d say Dirk is a genius, Roxy is always smart and sassy, and Jane is brilliant. (I don’t have a source for that last one but... Come on. She lectures him about grammar. Don’t fuck with me.) But when it comes to himself? He can’t say the same. Of course he then acts that way. He sees himself as a burly adventurer who is also a gentleman and tries to live up to that. No where along those lines does he think he’s intelligent. And that’s just... a little heartbreaking, really, all things considered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Can’t believe this blog is just me going, “Wanna see how fast I can talk about Jake?”, and a shit-ton of people all nodding before I talk for six hours straight. Anyway, take-home message is: Jake’s smart. Jake’s very, very smart. He’s also a himbo, but he’s incredibly smart. Just because he has learning disabilities doesn’t mean fuck-all.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. There are drinks and refreshments in the back. Have a safe trip home. Remember to tip your waiters and waitresses. Jesus fuck can I run this gag any harder into the ground? Giving me language was a mistake. No but, really, if you read this whole damn thing, thank you! I hope this was as fun to read as it was to write.

#ooc.#headcanons.#about.#ableism tw #and i hate to do this but after the speech impediment post i must:#dont steal these headcanons.#(unless youre a jake rper then by all means thats fine!)#yes these arent exclusive to jake but this took a lot of time and effort #id appreciate it if youd all respect that #tia! <3

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aeipcthys · 4 years ago

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╰ ❛ 💉 — › brenda song. cis-female. she/her. ╯ have you met margot moore yet ? this twenty nine year old virgo has been living in the seattle area for one month. she makes a living as executive assistant to the chief of surgery, which is best suited for their observant, loyal, picky, and judgmental personality. hold on by wilson phillips is one of their favorite songs.

trigger warnings: mental health, mental illness, bipolar disorder, racism, microaggressions, gambling addiction mention, addiction mention

full character page here

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: margot moore

Nickname(s): moore

Age: 29

Date of Birth: august 23, 1992

Hometown: lake placid, florida

Current Location: seattle, washington

Ethnicity: hmong, thai

Nationality: american

Gender: cisgender female

Pronouns: she/her/hers

Orientation: she has only ever slept with men. that being said.......how y’all doing

Status: technically in a relationship

Religion: christian

Political Affiliation: democratic socialist

Occupation: executive assistant to the chief of surgery

Living Arrangements: she wants a roommate so if someone breaks into her apartment she won’t be the only target

Language(s) Spoken: english, hmong

Accent: american

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: brenda song

Hair Color: brunette

Eye Color: dark brown

Height: 5'2

Weight: 113 lbs

Build: slim

Tattoos: anchor, writing on her finger, cross on her knuckle, writing on her wrist, bee on her wrist, cross on her side, symbol on her wrist

Piercings: ears, cartilage

Clothing Style: cute, fashionable kind of thing

Usual Expression: resting bitch face probably

Distinguishing Characteristics: laugh

HEALTH

Physical Ailments: none.

Neurological Conditions: has a form of bipolar affective disorder, doesn’t talk about it much, and is strict about her medications

Allergies: none.

Sleeping Habits: sprawls out across her bed when she eventually passes out with the tv on

Eating Habits: vegetarian except when she’s not

Exercise Habits: she actually attends those soul cycle kind of classes, and is really into it, but she would definitely make fun of them to everyone else

Emotional Stability: 9.14

Sociability: chatty, definitely can be nice, often judgmental but with good intentions, will gossip with you

Body Temperature: runs cold yet often wears outfits she’ll definitely be cold in

Addictions: stupid dumb men

Drug Use: we’re not necessarily opposed, but not a regular thing

Alcohol Use: bottle of wine everyday when she gets home kinda thing

PERSONALITY

Label: tbd

Positive Traits: observant, loyal, analytical, hard-working,

Negative Traits: picky, judgmental (with love), cynical, bossy

Fears: people in mascot costumes

Hobbies: being tupperware for other people’s messes (i stole this from an astrology site but legit her okay), girl can internet stalk the HELL out of someone for you if need be

Habits: eavesdropping on conversations, accidentally cutting people off when she has a better idea, zoning out when a whole lot of boring is coming at her

FAVOURITES

Weather: if it’s not humidity, she’s cool

Colour: shades of peach

Music: anything she can dance to in her apartment or every once and a while something at her desk that would make lachlan uncomfortable

Movies: no movies, movies are long

Sport: uh

Beverage: wine

Food: too many things have been described as her favorite to keep track

Animal: no thanks

FAMILY

Father: cye moore

Mother: mai moore

Sibling(s): elias moore

Children: none.

Pet(s): n/a

Family’s Financial Status: middle class

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: virgo

MBTI: estj

Anything Else:

BIO

Margot Moore grew up in Lake Placid, Florida...a very tiny place in the sunshine state. Lake Placid had a population of just about 2,000 people, and Margot felt the smallness of it all ever since she was young.

Her parents, Cye and Mai, were good and loving parents to Margot and her brother, Elias. Both her parents were immigrants to the United States, so they were among the many who worked tirelessly to provide a good and stable life for their children. Her father worked his way up to being a branch manager at a manufacturing company, and her mother worked at a bank. All in all, her life could be described as pretty normal.

However, growing up in Lake Placid wasn’t always a walk in the park. Lake Placid was a largely white town, and because it was small, everybody knew everybody. Which meant people talked. You never wanted to be on the wrong side of that talk. As she got older, Margot started to see that she looked different from a lot of her classmates. Her classmates noticed it too.

TW racism, microaggressions She began to experience racism and microaggressions at the hands of people who were her friends. A lot of it was unconscious, but there was a definite bias. Margot’s parents knew it too, but they didn’t want to rock the boat. They encouraged Margot to ignore it. To try and blend in as much as possible. So, that’s what Margot learned to do. She tried her best to just blend in with it all. She didn’t talk much about her family’s culture or traditions. She tried to make herself look more like her friends, even dying her hair blonde for a period of time to try and make herself into the ideal standard of beauty.

TW mental illness, mental health, bipolar disorder During this time, Margot also began to struggle with other things. Her mood swings were unpredictable. She experienced racing thoughts and an inability to focus. She started sleeping less and making some risky decisions. At first, Margot didn’t want to get help. She didn’t see a need. But when she started to fall back into a depressive episode during her junior year of high school, her parents said enough was enough. Margot started going to regular therapy appointments and met with a number of psychologists. She was diagnosed with a milder form of bipolar affective disorder, and she has been on medications ever since.

Margot has done extremely well keeping up with therapy and her medications. Therapy is the one thing she’ll never reschedule. Not even for work. Old habits die hard for Margot, though. It’s hard for her to talk about her mental illness because in her mind, this is just another thing that separates her from everyone else. And remember what her parents always said: assimilate.

Margot went on to college, and she had a strong desire to get herself out of Lake Placid. She decided to study business at the advise of her dad at the University of Central Florida, but it wasn’t something she was exactly passionate about. It was a thing to do while she enjoyed her college years. She wasn’t bad at it, she just didn’t give as much effort as she probably should have.

Out of college, Margot had little money of her own, but she was determined not to go back to Lake Placid to live with her parents. She started temping at an agency, and she would get moved around from business to business, mostly doing administrative work or bookkeeping. It wasn’t overly exciting, but it gave her some money to live off. Plus, Margot lived off of learning about each place she worked at...all of the office gossip and drama.

Somewhere in her post-grad life, Margot met Holden. Holden was, in fact, an idiot who probably had a (TW gambling addiction, addiction) gambling problem that Margot funds. Margot and Holden just kind of ended up together. It wasn’t that they were madly in love. They just kind of...stuck. Margot was the one who pretty much kept them alive. She for some reason has a soft spot for the dumb ones...it was the only thing that kept her from kicking him to the curb through the years. Their relationship isn’t solid, or even necessarily exclusive...it just kind of exists. And no one understands it.

When she was about 24 years old, Margot started temping at a private practice in Florida. This is where she soon met Lachlan Covington and Andrea Martinez. Both the doctors worked at the private practice, and Margot started actually liking her job. Of course, it was a temp job, so she had to work her magic. Sure enough, she was eventually able to persuade Lachlan into taking her on as an assistant.

Margot has been working for Lachlan ever since, and she’s built up a good friendship with Andrea. She was shocked when Andrea left for Seattle, and high key disappointed to see the couple split up. She always hoped they would be endgame. Margot stuck by Lachlan, but she often told him that he needed to get Andrea back. Because he did. Eventually, Margot watched Lachlan leave too. She initially had no intention of going with him, considering her life was all in Florida. However, after a few weeks him being gone, she realized how boring most of her other co-workers were. When he reached out to see if she’d come to Seattle, she said yes almost immediately. (She tried to be casual about it though). She assigned herself the title of executive assistant, just because she thought it sounded more important with the word executive in it.

Margot didn’t exactly break up with Holden before she left, and by the sounds of his texts, he may still think they’re still together. She’s just kind of letting that be for the time being. After all, they’ve been together for so long.

Margot is liking Seattle, but she hates living alone and is still trying to get her own lay of the land. She likes to have resources...people she can go to when she needs something, people she can squeeze information out of, the good restaurants she can order from and charge to the hospital credit card when Lachlan’s inevitably working late and she stays in solidarity...that kind of thing.

PLOTS

y’all know me open to anything

probably looking for: roommate!!! folks she always goes to for info, people to gossip with, a friend she often grabs lunch with, that one doctor she hates and always tells them that lachlan is in a meeting when really he’s completely free

#traumaintro #she was not meant to stand still ( margot moore. )#sup #( character intro. )

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m00nslippers · 6 years ago

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I feel like I need to justify why I haven’t posted any writing at all in like a month or two, so here’s the first part of a WIP.

No Title yet. I’m shit at titles.

Fandom: Batman, Red Hood And The Outlaws, Red Hood/Arsenal, Grayson, Nightwing Relationships: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne Characters: Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Timothy Drake, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Talia Al'Ghul, Roy Harper, Helena Bertinelli, Tiger | Agent 1 Tags: No Capes AU, Jason was never adopted by Bruce, Spyral Agent Dick, Bodyguard/Mercenary Jason, Child Soldiers, PTSD, Survivor’s Guilt, Talia is a good-ish mom, Tiger is so done with Dick, Brief elements of Racism and American Imperialism in the Middle East.

Summery: When Spyral Agent Dick Grayson accompanies his brother Tim to his school science fair, he meets his brother's stuffy arch-rival Damian and realizes he's the son of Talia Al Ghul, heir to the Al Ghul international criminal empire that has its tentacles in everything from high-profile political assassinations to weapons trafficking. Concerned about the danger the association poses to his younger brother, Dick decides to find out more...and comes up against Damian's dangerously attractive bodyguard, Jason Todd.

- - -

Timothy was sighing as he lead Dick to his school auditorium. “I'm telling you Dick, it's fine.”

But Dick was not having it. He frowned and pulled his suit blazer a little closer around him in the chilly night air as they crossed the parking lot, approaching the lights and bustle of the school building.

“How is it fine?” he asked Tim. “You're getting a first place prize for your science fair project and Bruce doesn't even have the decency to come!”

He wasn't mad about this a few minutes ago, but seeing all the families spilling out of the building, children hugging parents and vice versa for a job well done or consolation at having underperformed, made Dick feel like a half-assed chaperone. Bruce should have been here with them, and Alfred, and Steph and Conner and all Tim's other friends, but instead it's just him and he didn't feel like he was doing a great job of being support, even if it was just for a high school science fair.

Tim rolled his eyes. “This is my fourth one, Dick. And he had an important business meeting, I already told him it was okay that he couldn't make it. I meant that. It's just the district-wide competition. Now if I get one from the state, then his ass better show up.”

Dick didn't think a business meeting was a great excuse—he'd been privy to it enough in his own youth to find it played out—but Tim seemed sincere so maybe it really was important. “Well, you could have had Alfred come at least. He wanted to, even.”

“He's still pretending he doesn't have a cold. I'd rather he just rest,” Tim argued, and okay, Dick could see that. Neither of them wanted Alfred to exert himself when he wasn't feeling well and the night air could be hard on an old man.

“Besides, having a brothers' night out isn't so bad,” Tim added with a shrug. “We don't get to hang out much, especially just us.”

Dick beamed and Tim smiled back. Technically speaking, Dick should have more time with family since he'd quit the Blüdhaven police force (more like he was drummed out for being against the corruption and refusing to fall in line) and moved back to Gotham to work for Spyral, but in practice he'd been out of town for months at a time on field work until just recently. So maybe this was fine. Just him and Tim, brotherly bonding. It wasn't half-assed, it was exclusive. Okay.

Suddenly Tim's smile fell, avoiding looking at someone in the crowd as he half hid behind his older, taller brother. “Actually, let's just skip the awards ceremony and go straight to sushi,” Tim suggested with a suspiciously too-pleasant voice. “I mean, one big fancy ribbon is just like another, right? And who needs jealous, begrudging applause from the Gotham Academy Science Club Captain? I'm so over the rush of smug superiority it gives me.”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “Okay, the Timothy Drake-Wayne I know would never say that. What's going on?”

Tim tried to manhandle Dick into turning around, but Dick was curious enough at his adoptive brother's behavior to stand his ground.

“Damn it, too late.” Tim winced and stepped back out from behind Dick to paste a tight smile on his face.

A dark young boy with flashing jade eyes strode up to Tim and somehow looked down his nose at the taller boy from a few inches under five feet tall. He was clearly younger than Tim, but he held himself as if the whole world was his to command and his shoulders were as straight as any boardroom executive. Despite being fairly sure he'd never seen the kid before, Dick found him uncannily familiar, though he couldn't say why. Then Dick had an odd flash of Bruce icing out an idiot at a Wayne Gala, and comparing Bruce's general demeanor to some jumped-up little kid had Dick choking back a laugh. This was probably exactly what he was like as a child, Dick suspected. He'd run into Bruce's tiny doppelganger.

As the child stopped in front of Tim, Dick realized he had a shadow. Behind the boy stalked a man who made Dick feel small and somehow still managed to slink smoothly at the boy's heels like a massive guard dog with movements that spoke of training and deadly skill that put him on high alert. Dick found himself frowning as his muscles tensed, his brain leaping automatically into Agent Thirty-Seven mode as he assessed the man's threat potential and realized it was way too high for their venue. This wasn't the kind of person he expected to run into at a school function. This was more like the kind of people Dick dealt with in his day job.

“Drake, I see you've made an appearance at this shabby competition,” the boy spoke in an imperious tone, his accent something like Britain colored by the Middle East. “First place in the High School division was it? The standards for schooling in this country must be even lower than I'd been lead to believe for someone of your caliber to rise to the top.”

“Damian, so you're here,” Tim droned. “And you've pinned your first place ribbon in the Junior High division to your blazer like a prize pig at a state fair. You look pretty proud of yourself, despite those so-called low standards you're delusional about.” Tim's eyelids had lowered at the boy, Damian, in an annoyed, dismissive way that surprised Dick. Tim was generally a friendly, understanding person, even the loathed Franklin Debauer the Third, the Science Club Captain, didn't get this level of hostility.

Damian clicked his tongue and gave a haughty scoff. “Please, Drake. It's clear to me that you're basal intellect couldn't stand up to real competition. I'm only disappointed that our age difference is such that you'll be ineligible to participate in the judging when I've graduated to the high school division.”

Timothy sneered. “Yes, I'm sure it's such a relief for you to know I'll be above such petty concerns as a high school science fair competition with children when I'm in college and can't utterly crush you and your cute little excuse of an experiment. Being surrounded by small fish is where you excel, isn't it?”

Dick's eyes widened. Wow. What the hell was going on? Dick had never seen Tim engage in this kind of sharp repartee and as entertaining as it was, Dick wasn't sure he liked seeing Tim this way. “Tim,” he hastily interrupted, “why don't you introduce me to your friends.”

Tim sighed and gestured vaguely at Damian, who was now looking Dick up and down, measuring him against some invisible standard and finding him wanting. “Dick, this is Damian. Just a kid at my school. He recently moved to Gotham from outside the country. And that's...Mr. Todd? He's Damian's bodyguard, or his babysitter. One of the two.”

Dick's attention snapped back to the man standing behind Damian with an easy stance that to his trained eye concealed coiled violence. Bodyguard, huh? Dick chewed on the idea for a moment before he decided it was a reasonable explanation for the man's presence. Gotham Academy was a rich school, plenty of paranoid billionaires here employed some kind of personal security. They just weren't usually at this level of ability. Mr. Todd was the real deal, he could tell that much by the way his eyes swept over the parking lot and calculated the vectors of people passing by.

Dick decided to work under the assumption that Mr. Todd was who he said he was—for now.

He reached out to shake hands with Mr. Todd and found himself examining the man's large, rough hands with too many scars, filing every detail away in the back of his mind. His gaze followed those hands to the man's muscular arms and broad shoulders filling out a brown leather jacket like a dream. Mr. Todd's face was no less distracting to Dick. He was much younger than Dick would have expected, with a wide mouth, a thin nose that showed signs of having been broken, and dark, hooded brows cut by a scar, shadowing eyes the color of sea glass.

Dick found himself drawn in by those eyes that seemed to gaze deep into him, down to his bones. For a few seconds he forgot that he'd just labeled this man a 'dangerous individual to be watched closely' and indulged himself in the attraction.

But then Mr. Todd pulled back his hand and Dick saw the subtle cling of his jacket over those shoulders and he realized the man was carrying a gun.

Dick scowled.

“He is not my babysitter!” Damian objected with a pout.

Mr. Todd's laugh was gravelly and deep, sending shivers up Dick's spine. “Naw, I'd say that's accurate. But don't ever call me Mr. Todd. Jason or Jay is fine,” the man said in a thick Gotham accent, wearing a smirk that would have had Dick's stomach doing flip-flops if he wasn't trying to subtly undress the man in a way that was much less fun than Dick wanted it to be—instead of imagining the man's assets, Dick was looking for more concealed weapons. Now that he knew to look, he suspected there would be a few.

Anger boiled within him and Dick glared up at the man who had the nerve to bring a gun into a school. “Okay, but do you have a permit for those firearms, 'Jay'?”

Mr. Todd—Jason—frowned and all the charm drained from his expression. From the subtle changes in his stance, the set of his shoulders and the way his eyes went dark and hollow, Dick could confirm he was dealing with a very dangerous man. He had met dictators, mercenaries, psychopaths and assassins that didn't have a fraction of the menace as this Mr. Todd was aiming his way. It would have been impressive if it wasn't so unnerving.

“You a cop, or something?” Jason said, now looking over Dick in the same minutely analytical way as he had moments before, though Jason wouldn't find any weapons on Dick, outside of a pocket-perfume sprayer filled with the most potent mace Spyral's R&D could concoct. He didn't carry a gun outside of the field. He wouldn't carry a gun at all if he could manage it.

“Or something,” Dick acknowledged, but by the highly competent way Jason had taken in his shoes, clothing, haircut, lack of weapons and general demeanor, Dick figured he'd already come to a conclusion that couldn't be far off the mark.

“Dick...” Tim warned him through hissed teeth.

Jason clenched his jaw and gave Dick a glare that he fully believed could stop men's hearts in more ways than one.

“Yeah, I've got your permit right here,” he growled. And while Dick held himself back from attempting a disarm, Todd reached one hand into an inner pocket in his jacket to pull out what Dick recognized as a diplomatic visa from Qurac that might as well have been a get-out-of-jail-free card.

With his other hand, he firmly flipped Dick a middle finger.

Dick raised a brow. “That's not a permit, that's a visa. But it's a good head start on some of the other documents I want to see from you now.”

Jason released a put-upon sigh and flashed Dick a smile with too many teeth. He stepped right into Dick's space and nearly backed him up into Tim, trying to intimidate Dick with his threatening bulk and delicious looking mouth—wait, no, not that last one. The intimidation was only sort of working, since Dick fully believed the man was as dangerous as he was portraying himself to be, but Dick had never been properly scared of anything in his life, and he had the skills to back up his bravery.

“So it's going to be like that,” Jason said, low and quiet and far more frightening than shouting could ever be. “Fine. Look, buddy, this is a fucking school. The kid just got his science fair award, he's not a goddamn terrorist, he is a child. You and all of your pals are wasting your time and pissing me off—and I'm sure you've got a whole stack of files that explain exactly what happens when you piss me off. Now you turn yourself around and tell whatever ABC-soup agency you're from to leave Damian the fuck alone, or I'm going to test how far this diplomatic immunity extends. And I don't know what you did to get Timmy in on your cover, but leave him alone too while your at it.” He turned his head and spat directly on Dick's shoes with a curled lip of disgusted and stepped back. “The government using kids in my own damn country. It's sick. It's fucking reprehensible.”

Dick frowned in confusion, feeling as if he was missing a piece of the conversation, and not just because he'd had trouble tearing his eyes and imagination away from Jason's dynamic mouth. “I think we have a misunderstanding here,” he realized.

Jason just snarled, ready to tell Dick off again, but his charge interrupted him. “Drake! Do you always let your bodyguard interrupt your conversations? It's unprofessional.”

Tim's eyes were flicking from Dick to Jason with suspicion, but it seemed he couldn't resist the other boy's taunts as he turned to the kid with a sniff. “Dick isn't my bodyguard, he's my brother. I'm not such an asshole that I have people trying to kill me twenty-four seven, like you.”

Dick's brows snapped together as he warned, “Tim...” It was one thing to exchange clever banter with one's rival, but flinging bald insults was crossing a line.

Damian snorted, oddly unperturbed at being called an asshole, as well as the suggestion of his life being under threat. “Despite your complete lack of class and intellect, you are a Wayne heir, are you not Drake? Clearly your adoptive father isn't particularly interested in your well-being if he sends you around alone. On the contrary, my mother cares for me.”

Tim shook his head, his face flushed with anger. “Yeah no, Damian. You don't get to imply that Bruce doesn't love me because he doesn't make me walk around with an armed thug at my back.” Said armed thug raised a brow, looked vaguely amused at being labeled as such. “He had a really important meeting, but he offered to ditch it just for me, and my brother worked all day but he showed up just to see me get a dinky award I've already won three years in a row. Who came with you? No one. Just your bodyguard, and he's paid to be there. It seems like you're the one no one cares about him, not me. Where's your precious mother? Do you even know who your father is? What are you even doing here, Damian, you ever think of that?”

Dick gasped, “Tim!” at the same moment as Damian rose on his hackles like a pissed off cat and snarled, “You—!”

“Okay,” Jason interrupted, stepping between Tim and Damian before either could make a move as Dick just found himself staring at Tim in shock that he would say something so cruel. Whatever was gong on with his bodyguard, Damian was still just a kid.

Jason cast a displeased stare Tim's way, and Dick realized that Timothy must like or respect Jason somewhat because his brother ducked his head in shame. “This little rivalry thing you kids have got going on here is cute, but that's enough with the trash talk.” Jason bodily turned Damian toward the parking lot and started guiding him away. “You've already got your prize Dee, so let's bounce the fuck out of here. I'll make us a late night snack at the penthouse.”

Damian scowled and shot Tim one last dirty look before he turned to follow Jason, jogging to keep up with his much longer legs as they walked. “Apple crumble and vanilla ice cream?”

“Sure. You got it,” Jason agreed, but his attention was fixed on Dick, shooting him an 'I'll be watching you' stare before turning away.

Damian snorted but said, “Fine, let us depart,” and Tim and Dick watched their interaction with open interest as the boy and his bodyguard walked over to a powerful-looking motorcycle that Dick had admired when they'd walked passed it in the parking lot.

“You want my jacket? It's pretty cold,” Jason asked, but didn't wait for an answer before he took off the garment and dropped it around Damian's shoulders where they nearly drowned the kid in leather, it was so large.

Damian wrinkled his nose. “It smells like cigarettes,” he complained.

Jason's hand moved to take it back. “If you don't want it—”

“Mine.” Damian hugged the jacket around him possessively, with a pout that made him look even younger than he probably was. He burrowed his face into the leather of the collar before making a face. “Ugh. Todd, do you ever wash this thing?”

Jason smiled, rolled his eyes and ruffled Damian's hair while the boy tried to shove his hand away, and Dick felt his knees go weak as he stared very unprofessionally at the man's broad back, covered by a loose red flannel over a gray shirt and snug shoulder holsters built for concealed carry from the way they seemed to disappear into the lines of his body.

“Shut up,” Jason said with amusement in his voice as he put on a shiny red racing helmet and passed Damian a smaller, similar one. “You've never washed a thing in your damn life, Dee, you just have the maids do it. Besides, you don't wash leather, brat. You dry clean it.”

Damian snorted and accepted the helmet, tugging it in place with a practiced motion. “Since I have never once seen you enter a dry-cleaning establishment, then I suppose I know the answer to that question.”

Jason laughed as they both got on the bike, bright and genuine sounding, and he turned the key and revved the engine before roaring away out of sight.

Suddenly Dick was aware that he had pretty much been drooling over himself for the last few minutes, watching an admittedly blisteringly hot, but obviously dangerous and armed man drive away with a minor. Tim and Damian clearly knew the guy, and both seemed comfortable in his presence, but Dick felt he still should have asked for more documentation or something. Or enforced the revelation of the documentation he did ask for.

Well, too late now. And he knew the man's name—or the alias he was using currently at least—that was enough to get him almost any other information he needed, back at Spyral.

Dick turned to Tim, who was suspiciously quiet. He found his brother considering Dick himself, the gears in his genius brain spinning over something he'd witnessed. “So, Tim,” Dick asked, “are you going to tell me what that was about?”

Tim didn't quite manage to be casual as he shrugged. “Nothing to tell. Damian is a hyper-competitive little ass who makes it his hobby to get on my last nerve. Jason is his bodyguard for everything outside of actual school. He's usually pretty nice, even if he's kind of paranoid. You really must have pressed his buttons because I've never seen him act like that before.”

Well, from what Dick had gathered, the man thought Dick was some kind of government agent who'd attached himself to Tim to stalk and harass a junior high schooler, so he figured the hostility from Jason was understandable.

“The kid really looks familiar to me, for some reason,” Dick admitted. “Has he been to one of Bruce's galas or something?”

Tim huffed. “No, thank God. I can't even imagine having to be civil to that brat for a whole night.” And neither could Dick, considering the two had only managed tonight for about five seconds before it all went downhill. “Maybe you've seen him in the news?” Tim suggested. “His family is pretty important in the Middle East, apparently.”

The Middle East, huh? If that was the case then Dick knew exactly who to go to for answers tomorrow. “What's his last name?”

“Al Ghul.” Understanding flooded Dick. He knew that name, it was attached with one of the largest and most successful criminal empires in the world, and Dick had run into them on more than one occasion. It explained a lot, from the boy's familiar appearance to why he had a bodyguard with a Quraqi diplomatic visa.

Tim eyed him knowingly. “So they really are important, then. Political, business or criminal sector?”

“I can't talk about sensitive intelligence, Tim.” It was the answer he had to give, but it wasn't enough to put off Tim, it never was.

“Hm. Criminal, then,” Tim deduced as Dick kept his face carefully blank. His younger brother gave a gallic shrug. “Well, despite how much he talks himself up, he's just a brat, nothing dangerous, and I wouldn't think you can get any information out of him, either. Clearly his mom sent him to the U.S. to keep him out of the business or something. Or people are really after him. Or both.”

“What? Of course not, Tim.” Dick said. “That's not even my department, I'm just...concerned.” As in concerned why a kid was in such danger than he had a guy like Jason Todd following him around.

Tim was unconvinced. “Sure. Now forget work for a moment while I get my award and rub it in 'Franklin Debauer the Third's dumb face.”

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Dick grayson #Agent 37 #Nightwing #Tim Drake #Red Robin #Damian Al Ghul #Robin #No Capes AU #Spyral AU #Fanfiction #Batman #batfam #robincest #Alfred Pennyworth

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peaches-of-1 · 5 years ago

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Peachtober | Day 17: Lotus

I didn’t realize this wasn’t in queue, so sorry for this being a few days late!

Hey, guys! Some of you may not know I have a side blog called @iris-idol where I do a sort of self insert kind of thing about my life as an idol. The first part is done at this point and here is a sneak peak of something I haven’t posted it yet.

September 11th, 11:59am

I was so ready for Namjoon’s birthday since he was able to come home from service to celebrate it. I sent him “Happy Birthday, oppa!” at midnight as I planned to do with all of my other members when it was their birthday. We had performed together not too long ago. He had only joined the Army last month. I remember crying so hard when him and the other members of the hyung line left together.

For now, Maknae line had formed a subunit and TXT was having a comeback soon. I was also really excited to finally have an offday just so that we could celebrate with Namjoon for a few hours. Since the show was done, the members that would become Dei5 were in the beginning stages of our trainee lives.

It wasn’t too much right now, just coming up with our concepts to make sure we have clear goals to work towards and stuff like that. Of course we had our deities to research nonstop and there was a ten page essay we had to turn in, written in Korean, to make sure we were making good strides towards understanding what persona we were going to put forward.

For me, that was Iris, goddess of the rainbow and fellow messenger alongside Hermes. A lot of my clothing would be rainbow themed, but also my color was pink. That meant I kept going towards super cute and unicorn imagery. I wanted to do something really aegyo and kawaii but also mix it with hard rock. My Trinket aka symbol was a rainbow rose so there were a lot of duality aspects I could do.

We were going to be a rock-rap group from what BigHit officials told us. I was excited to learn hardcore about rock culture because I had lived it mostly during middle school and high school. It was obvious why I was chosen for the show if they were going for a rock inspired group since I took a lot of vocal inspiration from Adam Lambert and Evanescence.

Alice would be Lyssa, goddess of madness, and her color was black. She had a secondary aka accent color which was silver. She was half Korean and half Aussie, so her blonde hair and blue eyes were completely natural much to people’s surprise. She had been super shocked to be chosen for this group since the final vote was up to the Korean people. Alice was queer. She didn’t put a label on her sexuality and rarely ever specified what she meant other than saying love is love and she wasn’t going to let society get in the way of her heart. Her trinket was a black lace blindfold.

Jun aka Lan Caihe was like our big brother/sister so far. We were pretty sure he was going to be the leader because both Jun and her deity were genderfluid. Jun went by any and all pronouns and liked to dress more closely to a femine aesthetic. Back home, she did drag and made a lot of friends that way. He was the oldest...I think. Anyways, Lan Caihe’s color was green and her symbol was a bamboo flute.

Oppa was Hyojoon, a cutie that was shorter than me and his deity was Igong Hallakgungi and we mostly just called him Halla. By “we” I meant most of the non-Koreans who were on the show because long words are hard. His color was blue. His was the deity of life and death since his deity watched over said garden. Meaning his trinket was also a watering can. Since the show was over, he no longer had to stand out so much. He let his white hair fade and his roots were coming in.

Our youngest was Tristan. He went by Tristan and liked that better than his birth name, so I didn’t think about his actual name. He was a sweet guy and adored me so much. I adored him right back. I called him my little brother, and I meant it. The way he called me Noona was different from how he called Jun or Alice. Like I was his actual big sister. Although we both had other siblings, we treated each other like we had wished our siblings treated us. Basically, I babied him quite a bit. He enjoyed that because he was the oldest of three sisters.

He was kind of like my soul mate. My best friend. My brother.

He then asked me how my training had been and I told it was good. I have honestly just gotten back about a week or so ago. I spent the last month hanging out back home and collecting the rest of my things that I wanted to bring to Korea since I’d be living here from now on.

There was a knock on my door, probably my manager coming to take my phone and tell us lights out. We weren’t allowed to have our phones until after we debuted and after we made a certain amount of revenue.

September 12, 9:21pm

Namjoon oppa had wanted a casual costume party, but I was not a casual person. So I took a shower before showing up to the boys’ dorm in a starry dress. We had planned to make him the center of our galaxy for the night meaning everyone was wearing something with stars or planets or moons on them. Although the trainees from Deify weren’t very close to a lot of the other members of BigHit Entertainment, we had been invited.

Jimin was already redfaced and giggly when I arrived. I bowed and spoke politely to Yoongi who had been a judge on the show as well as everyone else. I wasn’t allowed to drink because we would have meetings and such all day tomorrow. It was mostly just eating and watching videos on the TV.

“It’s nice to see you again, Farai.” Namjoon said my birth name. “You look well.”

“Thank you. You look great too, all healthy. How has your training been, or are you done with that now?”

He handed me a slice of cake, “It’s done with, but I have big news to share with everyone. I guess you can find out first.”

“How come I get to know first?” I asked.

Namjoon shrugged, “You’re good at keeping secrets, and I trust you. Also, you might be able to give me some advice.”

“What do you mean by advice?”

“I’m going to be sent to America for most of my service. They said somewhere in the South, and since you’re from that area, I was hoping you could give me some tips about how to act.” He said, leaning on the counter by the fridge.

“Ah,” I replied. “I see, well. I think you will do a good job because one things I was going to tell you is to be respectful and to call people older than you either ‘Sir’ or ‘Ma’am’. However, you already do that. Hmm,”

I took a moment to think and noticed he was nervously playing with the hem of his new jacket gifted to him by Jungkook.

“Oh, I think this will be a good tip. Two things are really a big deal when it comes to business and older American people. One is eye contact. It shows that you are listening to them and paying attention. Second is a firm handshake. I do not know how you will be treated there, but do your best not to be shy.” I giggled. “Strong but silent is good, though.”

I went on and tried to show him what a firm handshake would be like, his hand lingering in mine as I did my best to explain in English and choppy Korean.

“Iris!” Taehyung turned the corner into the kitchen. “I’m so glad you’re here. I want to show you something.”

So he motioned me over and Namjoon let me join the younger member. Tae had wanted to show me some music and lyrics he wrote for me and was really hoping I could consider adding it to my album. I was taken by surprise. What was I supposed to say?

“Ah, I um. I will try. I will talk to the music producers and see if they will consider it. We are not working on music at this moment, but it sounds really nice. You have grown so much as an artist, Taehyung.” I smiled at him wearing a star spangled beret.

Then we went back to the party for a bit. Trainees couldn’t stay for too long because the grind was just beginning and we were learning Korean. I felt so out of place but also star struck because there were so many idols there. Namjoon was the only one in orangey clothing, so he was easy to find in the crowd.

One of his non idol friends was hitting on me. I was being nice, doing the whole Southern Hospitality thing, but I was not interested in the slightest. He spoke to me in broken English and did his best to hold a conversation with me, so I hung around. Until..

“Will you twerk for me?” He asked.

I bit the inside of my lip and tilted my head, “Um, what?”

“Twerk, you know...with your booty. Like girls in video.” He replied.

“Hahahaha~” Namjoon said, slapping his friend on the back. “Don’t be stupid, Han-hyung. That is really rude.”

The man blinked, “Is it? Really? Is that not just what black girls do?”

“Hahahahahaha~~no. No it’s not. I am so sorry, Farai.”

“I am going to play with Yeontan.” I replied and left them to that.

Tristan hugged me, “Noona~ You look sad.”

“It’s nothing. Just an idiot.” I responded.

“I love you, Noona. You are amazing and strong. Whatever happened, you just add it to reasons why you have to change Korea’s ideas of what someone like you does.” He said, rubbing my back.

“Thanks, my lovely deongsaeng”

Yoongi also wanted to talk to me about my future and songwriting and stuff. He had been a judge on the show, so things were still kind of tense between us. Yoongi had been nice, but I didn’t feel right calling him Oppa just yet. He reminded me that I was going to make the biggest splash as a BigHit artist but also to just focus on being a trainee for now. I would have all my life to deal with the stress of being a foreigner, of being plus size, of having my natural hair, of being dark skinned in Korea. For now, I just had to show that I was an idol first and foremost.

“I promise I will not let you or BigHit down.” I said.

He smiled, “Good.”

Jungkook’s voice called my name next and he said that he wanted me to help with his gift for Namjoon. Right now, it was hard to say no to anyone older than me, especially someone I looked up to. Still, if it made me too uncomfortable, I would have to reject his offer.

“I want to give him birthday kisses. It’s become a tradition now, and I know you have to go soon. I was thinking that we could each kiss one of his cheeks, if that’s ok with you.” The BTS maknae spoke to me in English since he was fluent in it and I was not that fluent in Korean just yet.

“Wouldn’t that be too easy to turn into a scandal of some sort?” I asked.

He waved away my concern, “Don’t worry about what the fans will do. You already have had several dating scandals. Anyways, this is for fun, and I know Namjoon will like it. Don’t you want to see him all blushy and shy?”

I bit my lip and put on a playfully stubborn face, “Maybe…”

Jungkook smiled and we went over to to behind where the birthday boy was sitting. The star eyed maknae counted to three and then both of us leaned down to place a small peck on either of his cheeks.

“Happy birthday, hyung!” Jungkook said.

Namjoon hid his face in his hands, but I could tell he was smiling. Then he looked up at me.

“Et tu, Farai?”

I pointed to his own member, “It was Kookie’s idea.” and giggled, only the color of my skin hiding how I was blushing too.

Alice traced her fingers through mine, “Come on lovebird, we have to go. Work starts early tomorrow.”

I nodded and we told everyone goodnight and farewell.

October 21, 10:33am

I was so ready for Halloween. It was fun trying to come up with ideas of what to do and of course it got turned into a sort of mini promo. When it came down to it, we were basically going to disappear for two years while we trained for Dei5 and wanted to make one final noise before we poofed.

So, we released a short Halloween song and were going to be doing busking in order to promote it. It was a remixed version of “Spooky Scary Skeletons” and all twelve of us who had been on the show were learning a dance for it. We had been working on it for two weeks now, just the dance part. The song was done in about a week. Halloween was in 10 days! Ah, I was living for this.

I knew that what we were doing was simply the tip of the k-pop idol iceberg, but I was just so happy to be busy and doing what I loved. It was frustrating at times since this was all short notice, but I liked it. Today, we worked on gathering costumes for our busking performances. We tried to choose stuff from the same show or franchise, but Imani now understood my distaste towards morph suits. So superheroes were out of the question.

Then we got the idea while playing video games with Sooja and Matthew just a few days ago. Mario characters. Everyone said I had to be Princess Peach, but I wanted to be Peachette. So that’s how we all evolved into all the “-ette” versions of the characters we had chosen. Well, most of us.

I was Peachette, Tristan was Bullet Billette, Alice was Bowsette, Hyojoon was just a regular Boo, and Jun was Yoshette. James was Piranha Plantette, Sooja was Boosette, Matthew had decided to go for Walette while Dongmin decided to be Wariette. Nawoo would be Toad, Gina went for Daisy, and Imani was Rosalina.

We were mostly looking for skirts and dresses. For Dongmin and I who were the two bigger members of the group, literally, we did some online shopping from our phones while everyone else did their things. I was able to get a really long blonde wig to fit my head from a place that Jun told me her drag queen friends always went to.

Jun said he would help me style it to fit Peachette’s hair. I was so thankful for him because I’d be struggling without her.

As my little group of Alice, James, and Nawoo went to the party section to see if the fabric pens were there, my eye caught the cutest arrangement of Halloween gift bags. I looked back at my manager and gave Kyung the best puppy dog eyes I could manage aven pouting a bit. I had talked about doing a project like this before, but he said he didn’t want to spend money on it.

He rolled his eyes and grabbed three packs of 20. He then left us to grab some of the huge bags of candy. I wanted to do something for the people who would be watching us perform. And for Halloween, that’d be candy. The only rule was that I had to make the bags myself. Yeah, that was extra work for myself, but I would always do it for Halloween and Valentine’s Day. The only reason I wouldn’t do it for Christmas is because that was festival season, the most stressful and busy time of the year. I didn’t want to get in the way.

October 31, 3:03am

I had finally finished all of the bags and tied them up. It went faster because of Tristan and Alice helping me, but still. They had extra practice to do to help their dancing skills. Alice was a fantastic dancer, but she didn’t have a great sense of rhythm. I put the last dozen in a wagon that Hyojoon oppa had let me borrow for this since it looked haunted.

Now, I had to go to bed for about seven hours before having to wake up and get ready so that we could be shoved off to perform in Hongdae and Itaewon. They were closer to our dorms than Busan and Ilsan and Daegu.

October 31, 12:30pm

Dei5 had a short meeting where we found out that our official logo would be a lotus, a symbol of rebirth and renewal. It would have five petals for each of us. We would go for a regular sort of symbol, smooth and simple, the lines were not too thick or too thin. It gave us the chance to alter it and remodel it for each comeback. Honestly, it would just be five gold petal outlines with a white center.

It was all that we could talk about with our other members.

I was getting a call from Taehyung during a quick lunch break before we continued dancing. We were at some traditional Korean place and eating bimibap, kimbap, and cold noodles.

“Hello?” I said after swallowing.

“You can’t call her. She can’t know about this.” It sounded like Jimin’s voice in the background.

Taehyung responded, “It’s not like we have many options.”

“If she was invited, you’ll see her there. Do you want to get in trouble with the Mentors?” Jungkook asked, worry and fear in his voice along with concern.

“No, Noona would get mad.” the current middle child said.

“So put down the phone.” Jimin said.

And the line went dead. I stared at my phone confused. What was that all about? Gina asked what the phone call was about and who it was from. I told her it was from Tae but it must have been a butt dial. Whatever, I had noodles to slurp up.

October 31, 7:22pm

Now in full costume, I was ready to dance with the others. I can’t believe it’s been over a month since since Namjon went back to serve. He had a lot of American fans, so he was seen through fan cams. Same went for Hobi, Jin, and Yoongi who mostly did office work. Well, Jin was part of Army Band and Hobi was in another performance Army thing.

“Hey, is it just me, or are there less people out on Halloween than during the day?” Imani asked.

I admitted, “I’ve noticed that too.”

“Do you guys not know?” Sooja asked, extremely puzzled. “Ah, I guess since you’re not usually in Korea during this time of year, and you haven’t been out much because of training, but um. There is a yearly masquerade party that idols go to. Some normies or trainees get invited too, but that is the only way you can go. By invite.”

Tristan added, “Yeah. I honestly thought we would have gotten invited, but I guess they want to train us first.”

Then they went into talking about what kind of rumors surrounded it. How people could go missing if they talked about it or how the person they talked to would disappear. It was very hush hush, like the bedazzled elephant in the room. Everyone who was anyone knew about it and got invited, but no one could really talk about it. Overall, it was a masquerade ball. Oh, I’ve always wanted to go to one of those!

There had been a livestream earlier when we were performing, made people who watched guess who each idol was. It was like a very intense but also fun fandom test. How well did you really know what your faves looked like?

We finally got into Itaewon for the third time today and there were people waiting for us. Like it had been happening all day, but it was still strange to see so many people who wanted to see us. Kyung had surprised me by setting up a total of 200 other goodie bags for fans who came out to watch. Him and the others were dressed in capes.

Our last stop was at N Seoul Tower. My skirt was actually shorter than the original dress just because I didn’t want to have to carry it around and lift it up as I danced. It was a pink lolita dress and Sooja actually had the Toadette/Bowsette crown. She helped make more for all of us.

We would do a Six song set and finish with our Halloween song. I was in three of them with the other members who would make up Dei5. Alice and I did our “No” by CLC cover and we did our easier group choreo afterwards.

Then it was time for “Spooky Scary Skeletons”. The twelve of us got into formation.

“Mortals, Deities, and everything in between~” I spoke.

Matthew added, “We only have one thing to say.”

“Happy Halloween!”

We had cut up the lyrics and such to the famed Halloween song and added two different rap sections for it to help showcase the rappers. I was having such a good time when the first dance break came in and we marched in sync and then posed. It was mostly dance heavy, so it was mostly just remembering what order to do them in. Muscle memory was my best friend in this case.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw the cape wearing staff handing out my little baggies. They were filled with chocolate, non chocolate, and a few trinkets like Vampire Teeth and the like. Also, 100 of the ones that I did not make had special codes in them to get a preorder when our CDs came out. They would have to use them wisely and try not to lose them.

Everyone was given glowsticks too, so we lit up the area more than the tower behind us. Then we all went to the front.

“Boo!”

Stay still for 10 second and then we all held hands and bowed, “Thank you! Happy Halloween! Thank you for all of your support!” and then it was done.

October 31, 10:00pm

I couldn’t help but fall asleep the moment I got home. Yes, it was bad to sleep in makeup and yes I would probably get in trouble for it when I woke up tomorrow because trainees had certain things to follow and wiping off our makeup and doing skincare was one of them. So I’d pay for it later. Right now, it was time to sleep.

I couldn’t help but dream about what it would be like if Namjoon and I danced together at the masquerade ball. The theme would be fire and ice, no jewel tones, no, space. Definitely space and so I could wear a more dramatic version of the outfit I wore to his birthday. However, I would need to be more careful. I was a girl. I was a foreigner and Gods Dammit, I will be an idol.

#BTS #Bangtan #Character: Iris #Iris-idol #@iris-idol #Idol!AU #bwam #ambw #slow burn #extra chapter #Peachtober #Day 17

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queen-asante · 6 years ago

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Hey there! I hope I'm not bothering you! I'm writing this story and I need advice on how to write Rolf. I saw your Ask Rolf account and you write him really well... any tips?

Not at all! ❤

First thing’s first:

1) It’s not necessary to tack on ‘‘yes’‘ and ‘‘no’‘ at the end of every sentence. Too many writers do this. XD

2) He’s totally allowed to break from third person when deemed appropriate. Rolf actually consciously speaks in third person, it’s not the language barrier at all. If anyone wants to revisit the first season, he always spoke in first person. He didn’t start speaking in third person till the second season because apparently it was not a character trait the writers adapted for him until much later (keep in mind, they were still figuring out the characters and all their quirks). We didn’t see enough of the secondary characters in Season 1 for them to fully form and become the fleshed out individuals we know and love from the later seasons. But yeah, re-watch ‘‘Oath to an Ed’‘ and you’ll notice Rolf never speaks in third person. Even after referring to himself in third person became his trademark idiosyncrasy (playing into the foreigner stereotype), he still knowingly breaks from it all the time. Mainly to exercise authority. Now doesn’t ‘‘Do as I say?’‘ carry more weight than ‘‘Do as Rolf say?’‘ Yeah, I think so too. :)

3) (I hate this word for personal reasons but for a lack of a better term) the ‘‘broken’‘ English is very mild, hardly noticeable (if that!). Try not to overdue it. Though he still obviously struggles with the language barrier, he’s a lot more fluent than people give him credit for. (Note: He’ll say ‘’This one is easy’’ not ‘’This one easy’’. Or a better example, “This empty roll must be replaced with a new one." Complete sentence. If it was terribly ‘’fractured’’ it would sound something like this: ‘’Empty roll must be replaced with new one.’’) I think it’s the thick accent that makes his speech sound more ‘’broken’’ than it actually is to the Western ear. Though sometimes his grammar is kinda weird, it’s not all that ‘’crippled’’. Sometimes I use the way I used to speak English for authenticity (usually I had trouble with contractions and would replace words like ‘’don’t’’, ‘’can’t’’, and ‘’won’t’’ with ‘’not’’. For example, instead of ‘’I don’t know’’ I used to say ‘’I not know’’). Which brings me to my next topic.

4) Bilingual skills! Eventhough he strains to pass his English class and other classes of challengingsubject matter, his bilingual skills verbally improve in Season 5. Where Rolf is shown tospeak mild ‘’broken’’ English in the first coupleseasons, he returns in Season 5 much more articulate than we remember him. Thoughhe still claims to find English complicated, and scores F’s on his Englishexams and homework, he’s also able to ramble the entirety of the Englishlanguage dictionary a la Double D. In other words, his vocabulary broadens fromjust country riddles to methodical flowery arrangements. Go figure. Rolf’sEnglish is actually very fluent, even though at times, he wrestles to find theproper words to express himself, but it seems he mainly has trouble withstructure and grammar, rather than a lack of comprehension for his secondlanguage. Though simple-minded phrases like ‘’Tony Baloney’’ and ‘’flatdoodle’’ are not obsolete from his day-to-day jargon, he’s adopted massive ‘’DoubleD’’ words like ‘’protuberance‘’ ‘’fortitude’’ and ‘’retribution’’ in hisspeech, and uses them in perfect context and pronunciation without missing abeat, never mind his thick Eastern European accent. He gains so much confidencein his newfound, increased cognitive abilities that he takes a risk and entersthe Spelling Bee in ‘’Too Smart for His Own Ed’’. Prior to the competition, aviolent panic attack seizes him, preventing him from spelling even a simpleword like ‘’watch’’, and during his turn, he chickens out due to a publicspeaking anxiety, but we have to give him credit where credit’s due.

He was so confident! Damn you stage fright!

Why does he look like he’s going to spitthe most fire verse of the century?

Ahem. Point is, don’t hold back from giving him big vocabulary. He’s actually not that simple-minded or, as Double D would say ‘’uneducated’’. Someone who took it upon himself to learn a foreign language can’t be all that dumb. Yes, he’ll still refer to raisins as ‘‘doohickeys’‘ but he knows what a wallet is. Keep him Old World but don’t make it sound like he was was raised by wolves and lived in a cave his whole life. He’s an immigrant, not an idiot. He’s crossed oceans on a canoe, he’s probably seen more of the world than any of the kids in Peach Creek who’ve never been father than their own backyards. He’s kinda wise beyond his years.

That being said, it’s totally realistic for him to still struggle with finding proper words and expressions to express himself. For instance, I’m MUCH better at English than I used to be but I still have my moments. Just recently, my American friend used the phrase ‘‘cracking up’‘ and I thought she was either a) angry or b) losing her mind. She proceeded to explain to me that in that particular context, she meant she was laughing really hard. Mind blown! I’m also still confused by some English idioms that don’t exist in my language. ‘‘Knock on wood’‘ is one of them. I still don’t get it, no matter how many times my friend explained it to me. There was also a funny instance I had a long time ago. In my country, we have a saying that describes someone who’s named after someone or something famous. Like, if your name is Fanibhusan, named after Lord Shiva, we call that something… and I was having major difficulty finding the English equivalent to that. I originally used the word ‘‘trivial’‘ having no idea what ‘‘trivial’‘ actually meant. It only sounded right to me because I associated ‘‘trivial’‘ with the word ‘‘trivia’‘ but my friend said that wasn’t right, because that actually meant the opposite of what I thought it meant, which is ‘’of little value or importance’’. So we spent a good deal trying to figure out what I was trying to say, but in the end, my friend broke the news to me that there was no such thing in the American English language. Sooooooooo bilingual people, even half fluent ones like me, are still going to have those moments. Sometimes you’re going to have that constant translating in your head… although when I’m speaking English to my English speaking friends, I tend to think in English, if that makes sense. XD

5) Immigration! Everyone’s favourite subject. Welp, it’s much appreciated when fanfiction writers don’t totally ignore his status. It shapes him as the person he is. However, you don’t have to dwell on it either. Don’t confine him to a label. He’s a person first, immigrant second. Make it known he likes basketball and candied beets before you let ‘’immigrant’’ define him, because then that just clumps him into the image of a faceless mixture of brown people hopping fences and negative stereotypes. Let him be a proud Son of a Shepherd first and foremost. Let him be happy and carefree, because this kind of representation is just as important as any social issue. He doesn’t have to be a sob story to make me feel represented. Rolf’s prone to heartbreak, and he does get homesick, and it’s very important to realise the challenges and culture barriers he faces, but he’s also upbeat and positive. It’s important to have that balance of both real struggles coupled with childhood nostalgia.

6) Most importantly, have fun! Go nuts!

#eene #ed edd n eddy #rolf #immigration #immigrants #bilingual problems #language #asante's questions

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