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davnittbraes · 2 years ago

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The Fourth Step - Chapter Thirty-One

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2900

Warnings, etc.: drinking games, excessive alcohol consumption, like too much, I need to make this clear I am in no way endorsing drinking this much or encouraging others to drink this much PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT, degrading language toward women, reader acts under false pretences with no regret, some introspection, a lil tease of smut at the end

Notes: Okay listen. Does this chapter advance the plot? No. Does it enhance our understanding of the characters and further develop relationships? Not really. And it almost got cut for those reasons, but then I’d have to significantly change parts of the next chapter and I like it too much as it is. Also let’s just have fun for once, bbys have been through enough. Also also this was going to be a beefier chapter but I revised how I’ve split the next few up so sorry again for the kinda low word count.

Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

The cantina is the same one you and Cara had sat in the last time you were on Nevarro, where you had tried to navigate your growing feelings for Din and your place in his life. Where you had struggled with trusting yourself not to run away from him, not to hurt him in the end.

Where, for the first time, you had acknowledged that you felt drawn to him for comfort and support when your thoughts were too loud.

It had taken time, and a few steps backward, but now you’re sitting here, Din next to you, the low buzz of your anxious thoughts hovering in the back of your mind, there but unconcerning.

Because you know you don’t have to shove them down deep, where they’ll grow into something you can’t control, something terrible and twisted that will turn all that’s bright into dark, seed fear and panic until you run from it, from everything.

The cantina is much busier tonight, nearly every seat taken, and the drone of conversation fluctuates with the raucous laughter of a large group taking up a few tables on the other side of the bar. But despite the mild chaos there’s a still and steady feeling of something like belonging, sitting here, your aliit and what you think might be friends around you, sharing funny stories and good drink. It’s a comfort you’ve never felt before.

Never allowed yourself to feel.

You take a sip from your glass of revnog while Karga - Greef, he had insisted - expounds on some recent event that involved people both Cara and Din know, with Cara jumping in on occasion to provide a sarcastic comment or detail the magistrate missed. Even though you’re not familiar with the story’s subjects, both Greef and Cara speak to you, not just Din, making sure you’re kept in the conversation.

Still, you can’t stop your focus from wandering just a bit, your own experience being employed in similar settings guiding your idle observation of the bartender at work.

The human woman is obviously experienced, her movements confident and efficient, hands carrying out two separate tasks while her gaze is constantly moving. She’s carefully assessing the other patrons with the practice of one who has served alcoholic beverages to people long enough to know trouble sparks before it flames, and if you catch it soon enough you can prevent an all-out blaze.

Memories of working at The Windflower flit across your thoughts - Tedha had always been the one to spot a fight brewing, able to step in and diffuse it with a charming smile and a witty one-liner that would instantly shift the conversation.

You were less effective, your defensive reflexes a little more temperamental, which occasionally landed you in the middle of a brawl. That’s why you stuck to the production side of things, tucked away in the distillery where you could focus on your work instead of obnoxious, drunk scugholes.

The bartender sets two cocktails in front of the Rodian who had ordered them and spins gracefully, reaching to the top shelf of the back bar and shifting aside a couple bottles to pull out the one she’s looking for. Something behind one of the bottles catches your gaze - a clear glass bottle, white label with gold writing.

Your stomach dips in excitement and words blurt out before you can think about it. “Is that Windflower Savareen?”

The bartender somehow hears your question above the noise of the crowd, immediately zeroing in on you with a warm smile and a nod.

Throwing an apologetic smile at Cara and Greef to excuse yourself from the conversation, you slip out of your chair to head to the bar as the woman pulls the bottle down from the shelf.

A thrill of familiarity runs down your spine at the feel of the bottle in your hand, the way the gold-red liquid glows in the dim light of the cantina. The pristine white label and gold font spelling out The Windflower’s name, date of the batch’s production, the name of the distiller.

Your fingertip traces the letters carefully.

Sozi Varu.

A laugh slips from your chest.

What are the kriffing odds?

Oh -

Your thumb snags on the little wax seal beside the name. Gold, like the font, embossed with a trio of tiny berries.

You’d applied that seal yourself, to each bottle from this batch.

You know you’re grinning at the bottle of brandy like an idiot, but the bartender seems to be taking it all in stride. Probably seen much stranger.

She pulls a clean glass from under the bar. “I bought it a while ago, but I think it’s a bit too classy for the regulars here. Did you want a sample?”

“No, that’s ok, I’ll take -“

A deep, rough voice cuts through the chatter. “Better pick something else, sweetheart.”

Your gaze flies to the loud group on the other side of the bar, a mix of different species. A quick glance and you can tell each one is armed, blasters and other assorted weapons glinting in the low light of the cantina.

They’ve gone quiet, watching you, an air of tension hovering over their tables. There’s a narrow look in their eyes that sets your instincts on edge.

These are not good people.

Then one of them - a Weequay, sitting in the chair nearest you - leans back with an arrogant assurance in his deep-set black eyes, condescension twisting his mouth. “Hard drink like that is too strong for pretty things like you.”

The rest of the table bursts out laughing, as if he just said the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

Well.

They just went from vaguely threatening to extremely annoying.

You glance at the bartender, who’s watching the exchange carefully. She looks at you for a moment, a penetrating gaze that you feel go straight to your bones, then quirks an eyebrow in question, the hint of a smile curling up the corner of her mouth.

Yeah, ok. Let’s have some fun.

Biting your lip to stop your own answering smile, you shift, cocking out a hip and lifting up the bottle by the neck, letting it waver awkwardly in your grip. “Oh, is this strong liquor? I just think the label is really pretty, I thought I would try some.”

The Weequay snorts an ugly laugh, echoed by his friends. “Tell you what, if you can manage to drink a glass, I’ll buy it for you.”

This time you let your grin spread, light up your expression with delight, push a sickly simpering tone into your voice. “Would you? That’s so sweet of you.”

“Well, slow down, you’ve got to finish the glass before I buy it, that’s the deal.” He stands leisurely, chuckling lowly as his friends slap him on the back and jokingly wish him luck.

The bartender sets out two shot glasses when he takes a seat next to you, black eyes flicking down your frame and up again. “You sure about this? Maybe you should get your friends to cheer you on. Or are you here alone?”

You suppress the shiver that breaks out over your skin at the way his voice drops, disgustingly cloying.

Well, that confirms he didn’t see who you’re with. Not that a moron like him would realize it’s probably not wise to challenge someone in the company of a Mandalorian.

A subtle glance out of the corner of your eye tells you that same Mandalorian is watching you now, helmet tilted in amusement. A gloved hand rests on Cara’s forearm, as if he stopped her from standing up and something blooms warm behind your ribs - she’d probably started to get up to come to your defence.

Greef and the kid are watching you, too, almost identical expressions on their faces, curiosity and interest pushing them to lean forward just a bit. The rest of the patrons are also turning their attention to your exchange with the Weequay, the buzz of conversation dimming.

Good. An audience will make this even more entertaining.

Sliding onto the stool beside him, you focus your attention on the task at hand, fluttering your eyelashes at him. “Well, I’m not alone anymore, am I?”

“That’s right, sweetheart.” The ridges on his jaw shift with his crooked grin as he reaches for the bottle and uncaps it. “Now, don’t be upset that you can’t keep up, it’s completely natural. Pretty girls like you are good at other things, aren’t you?”

Disgust turns your stomach as he winks heavily, and you look away before it shows on your face, watching him fill both glasses. “I’ll do my best. Thank you for being here for me.”

“I’m not here for you, girl.” He laughs loudly, picking up his glass and draining it in one gulp. “Easiest free drink I’ve ever won.”

His friends burst out laughing, the sound grating in your ears, and he waves the empty glass toward them in triumph.

Dank farrik, he’s not making this easy.

You force a giggle, bringing your glass to your nose and taking an exaggerated sniff. The familiar scent fills your lungs pleasantly, layers of fruity sweetness that make your mouth water, and you pull back as if disgusted. “Oooh, that is strong, isn’t it?”

“You can still back out.” The grin on his face grows.

“No, let’s keep going, I’m having so much fun.” Smiling playfully, you reach out to run a finger down the neck of the bottle, biting back a snicker when his black gaze tracks the movement. “But how about we make it more interesting?”

He leans toward you, placing a hand on your thigh, and it takes all your focus not to flinch. “What do you have in mind, pretty girl?”

Kriff. Your hand is literally tingling with the urge to punch that stupid grin off his face.

You tap the bottle once with your fingertip. “What if we play for the whole bottle? Whoever stops drinking first buys it for the other.”

His teeth flash as he laughs. “I’d be an idiot not to take that offer.”

Lifting the glass to your lips, you shift your features into a grimace and swallow the brandy down, internally revelling in the way it settles your stomach, heavy and warm. For added effect, you swoon a bit as you set the glass on the bar.

“I did warn you, sweetheart.” He chuckles, patting your thigh.

You lean toward him, blinking rapidly as if dizzy, noting the current haziness in his gaze as a benchmark. “You were right. Maybe I should have taken your advice, I’m not used to strong alcohol.”

“Ready to quit?”

Sitting up straight as if suddenly inspired, you smile. “No, I want to keep playing. Pour me another, please, you can do it so much better than I can.”

He preens as he refills the glasses, shoulders back and chest puffed out.

It takes every effort not to roll your eyes.

You both sling back your second glass and his friends burst out into shouts of encouragement and laughter, some even pounding the table, ignoring the warning glare of the bartender.

He fills the glasses again, seeming not to notice how his hand shakes just a bit as he pours. “How’s that? Don’t push yourself too hard, I like my women conscious. For the most part.”

His friends laugh loudly at that, and he raises his glass in a toast to them, drawing even more laughter.

Your hand grasps his on your thigh, squeezing so tight he flinches before he can catch himself. Good. “I think I’m ok, let’s keep going.”

He swings the toast toward you, winking as he drinks, and you drain your glass to avoid laughing in his face.

The brandy is filling your system, swirling through your bloodstream, but you breathe deep, fix your gaze on the Weequay, waiting.

There - his features are relaxing, smirk smoothing into a lazy smile, eyelids drooping.

Another round, and a few more minutes, maybe.

This time, he spills a little as he pours, though he’s too busy looking at you to notice. “I like a girl with determination. Think it’s cute.“

“Aw, you’re a flatterer.” The simpering sweetness in your voice almost catches in your throat, and you drink quickly to swallow it down.

His hand starts to slip up your thigh and you press it down, stopping him from going any further.

He frowns, eyes narrowing as he drinks. “And you’re being coy. Don’t like girls who are coy.”

You push your bottom lip in a pout. “Can’t we finish the game before we move on to… something else?”

His grin returns instantly, the haziness pulling his expression into something almost dopey, and reaches for the bottle. “Right, the game.”

That same haze is slipping over your own thoughts, and you take a deep breath again, focus on the feeling of your lungs filling and emptying. Once more, breathe in, breathe out.

Just need to stay alert for a few -

The bottle rocks wildly as he misses, fingers grasping clumsily and almost knocking it over. He grunts in frustration, frowning at the bottle in deep concentration, his hand faltering as he tries to grab it again.

There.

You lean in, ducking into his line of sight to catch his attention. Those black eyes are clouded, can barely even fix on you. “Starting to feel it, huh?”

“What?” He shakes his head slowly, gaze unfocusing.

Pulling the bottle closer, you tap a fingertip to the wax seal, abandoning the playful and flirty persona. “This particular batch was distilled with namana berries. Not a lot, just enough to give a hint of the Namana Effect.”

You refill the glasses, push his toward him. “Not as much as namana liquor, obviously, but it can sneak up on you, overwhelm your neurotransmitters. Especially with the amount of alcohol I’m guessing you already have in your system.”

Sitting back, you pick up your own glass, contemplating him. “I’d say you’re going to pass out any second now.”

He blinks, eyelids slow and heavy, scowl creasing his face, hand leaving your thigh to join his other as he uses both to hold the glass to his lips. Clumsily, he gulps down the brandy, almost dropping the glass as he sets it on the bar top. “Shows what you know, girl.”

You take a sip from your glass, savouring the taste, watching him closely.

The haze in his eyes grows, intensifies, and -

His eyelids close -

He slides off the stool, hitting the floor with a thunk.

His friends leap to their feet, knocking over chairs and crying out in surprise and anger. One of them takes a step toward you, hand on their blaster, and the bartender gives a warning shout, wordless but full of unarguable authority.

They pull back, grumbling, throwing hesitant looks at the bartender.

Calmly, you drink your glass, set it on the bar and stand up, glancing at the unconscious Weequay at your feet. “Should probably get him to a medic. Oh -“ you grab the now half-empty bottle of Savareen, tilting it toward them - “Make sure one of you pays for this before you go. I won it, fair and square.”

Not bothering to wait for a response, you walk back to your table as the other patrons erupt in applause and laughter. One of the man’s friends hustles to the bar and pays up while the others lift him off the floor, shuffling his unconscious form out the door.

Grinning, you set the bottle down in the middle of the table. “Care to share in the spoils of war?”

Greef laughs, a deep belly rumble. “That was very impressive. Where did you learn to drink like that?”

“Oh, here and there.” You shrug one shoulder, sliding into you chair next to Din.

His hand immediately grabs your thigh, fingers digging into the same place where the Weequay’s hand had been. Like he’s trying to erase any imprint, any sensation left behind.

A quick glance shows his shoulders are relaxed, not tensed in anger, the black visor turned toward you just enough that he’s probably looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

The helmet tilts ever-so-slightly, his unseen gaze dragging over you, a different sort of tension creeping through his frame. The kind that tugs at you, makes you crave more than the heat of his palm through his glove and your leggings.

Arousal curls hot in your core.

Ok, you’re very in to territorial Din.

Cara raises her glass in a toast to you, pulling your focus. “You’ve got more patience than I have. I would have decked him the moment he called me ‘sweetheart.’”

You sigh dramatically. “Trust me, there were a few moments when I wasn’t sure if I’d make it through. But the suffering was worth it, in the end.”

Greef and Cara’s laughter inspire a chuckle of your own, the swirl of alcohol and namana in your bloodstream amplifying the giddiness bubbling in your chest. It feels good.

You feel good.

Din’s hand on your thigh relaxes, thumb stroking circles that send a shiver up your spine, stoke the heat of want that shifts your hips closer to him.

And as much as you’re enjoying yourself right now, you can tell by the way those gloved fingers dip down to caress your sensitive inner thigh that you’re going to enjoy yourself even more later. *****

Mando’a translations

Aliit - clan, Mandalorian equivalent of family

***** Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mando x f!reader #mando x you #reader insert #no y/n #the world is light embodied #TWILE

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seiwas · 11 months ago

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💛 sel belllll! how are you doing post-birthday celebrations? did you and iwa do anything to celebrate together?

miraluv!! waah i am so sorry i am getting to this late 🥺 you are so lovely for sending this in, as always!!

post-birthday celebrations have honestly been a bit tiring!! am still attending to some now, 5 days later!! 🥹 but i am so grateful!! for all the love 🥺 i am just a lil introverted sel who needs a bit of recharging 🥹

to give a rundown! 5th: brunch w bf + lunch w his bsf & gf + dinner w his bsf's fam, 6th: afternoon painting w bf + night w bf's friends, 7th: day w bf's fam, 8th: day w my bsf, her bf, & our other friends + dinner with bf's fam friends, 9th: dinner w bf's childhood friends! — no plans for the 10th so far so i think i'll spend it alone to rest 🥹

and me with iwa!! oh gosh honestly 🥺 we just stayed in. wanted him to cuddle me aaaallll daaaayy 🥺 he did bring me out to a cafe as per my request, but after that we just crashed back home 🥺 i think life has been so busy for us lately!! and is looking to be even busier for the next few months, so we just wanted to soak up spending time w eachother 🥺 we cooked a bit too!! and omg i bought this arts and crafts wooden artwork kinda thing for us to do together (it was so hard 😭 hajime's fingers were too big for the miniature pieces 😭) +++ he gave me a nice massage at night 😌

#waaahhhh i love your questions miraluv!!#amira.☀️#ask #rep #pastelle-rabbit

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rainydawgradioblog · 24 days ago

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My Symphonic Summer

Hello, dear Blawg reader. I’ve returned after my summer hiatus, and as such we have a lot to catch up on. First, however, I wanted to give you a glimpse into my life, which I promise will be relevant to the rest of this post.

I spent nearly the entire summer grappling with the fact that I was three-quarters of the way through college and entering my final year of undergrad. This in and of itself was a terrifying notion (and still is), even putting aside the looming pressures of taking the MCAT and begging med schools on my hands and knees to admit me. This, coupled with working one of my first big-girl jobs in a lab, set me on the path of reflection. Reflecting on this chapter of my life, my time in this city, and what truly fed me. It should be of no surprise to anyone reading this that music, and more specifically my experiences with the Seattle Symphony, has been one of the most soul-feeding constants for the past three years. As I’ve gotten older and busier, with building pressures, it’s become increasingly easy to lose grasp of the things that aren’t strictly necessary for a career path and the machinery of adulthood. Alas, I’ve come to realize that appreciating art is, in fact, strictly necessary for my adulthood. The SSO is one way that I have held on to what makes me whole, and I urge you, college kid or otherwise, to do the same.

Now that I’ve gotten the sappy reflection out of the way, I’d like to tell you about some of the soul-feeding music that I got to experience in the months of June and September.

I started the summer off with a bang on June 8, with one of my all-time favorite concerti, Porkofiev’s Piano Concerto No. 2, with Jan Lisiecki on the piano. I’ve been a fan of Lisiecki for some time now, with this adoration spanning back to my freshman year of college when I saw him perform Grieg’s piano concerto with the SSO. Lisiecki’s presence and pianistic power stun me each time, and he looks like a bit of a Disney prince to boot. I’ve written over and over about musical chills, but it would be remiss not to mention that this performance had me chilled to the bone and nearly in tears. The thunderously virtuosic quality of the concerto combined with Lisiecki’s touch made this performance among the best that I have ever seen.

On June 22, I went to see The Elements Suite featuring violinist Joshua Bell. This suite was unlike any other performance of the classical tradition I have seen. As a modern composition commissioned by Bell himself, the suite was written in the style of a violin concerto with five element-themed movements (Earth, Fire, Water, Air, and Space), and one reprise, with each element written by a different composer. A multi-composer work is not something that I expected to see as a headlining work, but I truly loved it in its concept and execution. Each movement had the stylistic distinction of its respective composer, but there was also a common thread amongst all movements, which impressed me given that this work was the product of the collaboration of five separate artists. I am usually not a fan of contemporary classical (and my apologies in advance for the biting criticism of contemporary works), however, this suite showed me that there are contemporary composers out there who don’t rely on dissonant soundscapes or numbing simplicity for their craft. As an aside, this concert was my first date with my now-boyfriend, and I must say that attending the symphony is such a good date idea. I highly recommend that you get a lil fancy and go feel love in the air as you and your date are serenaded by an entire orchestra.

After a break between seasons, I was able to attend the highly anticipated Opening Night Concert and afterparty on September 14. That’s right folks, I got to go to a post-concert afterparty, and boy did I feel cool. But before we get into the party, we have music to discuss! THE Khatia Buniatishvili graced our stage for a performance of Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue, and I was perfectly starstruck. Some parts of Rhapsody in Blue are forever imprinted into my brain, such as the iconic clarinet intro, but Buniatishvili’s performance reminded me of how much I love the piano interludes, and though it’s a piece I’ve heard a thousand times, Buniatishvili and the SSO brought it to new life. Aside from the headlining Rhapsody in Blue, there were also several Latin-inspired works, including one of my personal favorites, Alborada del gracioso by Maurice Ravel. As for the post-concert party, I had an absolute blast. There was a photo booth, countless food vendors, and a signature cocktail, all of which I made sure to enjoy to the fullest extent. I can’t express enough how much it meant to me that I was able to attend. It truly was one of the best nights I had this summer (and yes, I’m counting mid-September as summer).

All in all, I had an enlightening summer, to say the least. Knowing that this is my last year in college is bittersweet, but I am so excited for what’s to come, stay tuned for more of my ramblings!

Xoxo, your classical correspondent,

Addie

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notalotgoingonatthisinstant · 2 years ago

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Since I know myself and I need to finish writing everything before start publishing chapters, and since this thing is only growing, here (*sprinkles*), have a lil birthday treat from my hungover self.

At eight, after dinner is over and they are just hanging, his phone pings with the reminder to take his medicine. It feels particularly jarring today.

For practical reasons, Simon keeps a pack in one of the kitchen’s drawers. Images of him stealing pills from his father come to the forefront of his mind as soon as he opens the right drawer and he has to put the glass of water down to breathe. It takes him a few seconds to be able to grab two pills, but then he cannot bring himself to put them in his mouth.

He knows he has to take them. He knows they were prescribed to him so he doesn’t fry his brain because it’s fragile after he hit it. Because he was attacked. And he knows that nothing about it was his fault… theoretically. But maybe he shouldn’t have gone to see his father. Maybe, if he hadn’t even started seeing him again, it wouldn’t have been necessary at all, because Micke wouldn’t have made a comment about him to a reporter. Maybe Simon should have let the bus ride cool his head instead of walking to the next stop. Maybe he should have stuck to the busier streets. Maybe he shouldn’t have fought back.

Because he can’t take pills. For the same reason he can’t drink any alcohol – he very likely has the genes for addiction and he can’t risk it. He will keep his life on track, even though it’s already derailed, and he can’t get the taste for pills, at all, he just can’t.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, hands gripping the counter, glass of water and two pills in front of him, trying to talk himself into swallowing them so he doesn’t fucking convulse again. Suddenly, he catches someone on the other side of the partition, in the dining room, and startles. Wille immediately leans back a little. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Simon’s heart has gone through the roof. It very clearly doesn’t want to slow back down, but he pushes down the discomfort. “It’s okay.”

With someone right there, Simon can’t find any way to stall any longer for any feasible reason, so he makes himself put the two pills in his mouth and take a sip of water. He swallows, but only the liquid; the pills stay right there on his tongue, getting more and more bitter. He tries taking more water, tries to think of something else, but still just swallows the water.

It frustrates him to no end. It’s just two pills. It’s his fucking medicine. They’re not even big, he’s swallowed larger pieces of meat before, and those same pills before, and he knows, logically, that they’re not going to get stuck in his throat, but right now it feels like they might. Or that he might throw up if he forces them down.

But he will fucking swallow them if it’s the last thing he does. He picks up the glass and keeps gulping down water until the pills slide painfully down his throat, the muscles there trying to reject them. This is just a temporary evil. Six more months.

At least six more months. Maybe two years. Possibly forever.

“Simon?” Wille’s voice comes from closer now. He has come around the corner and is front of Simon, in the kitchen, a hand reaching out to touch his elbow. “Everything okay?”

Simon nods, humming in an affirmative way that he hopes is casual enough. He puts the cup in the sink, taking the extra time so he doesn’t have to meet Wille’s eyes until he can compose himself to lie a bit better.

Wille’s hand slipped from one elbow to the other when Simon turned to the sink, and now the thumb caresses the fabric of his jumper. “Want to go to your room for a bit?”

Nodding again, Simon lets Wille guide him farther into the house until they are shut away in the golden light of his fish tank. As soon as they are in his room, Simon wraps his arms around his waist and buries his face in his neck, much like he did outside the car, and Wille holds him close around the shoulders again. Simon rubs his nose up his neck and leans up to kiss him.

The fire burns inside him again, showing up quicker than it usually does. It has been five days since Simon has had the opportunity to be in Wille’s room, over on Friday, so that’s four days his body has been burning. He can’t constantly ask his mum or his friends to drive him up to Hillerska every weekend and he can’t take the bus alone anymore. On weekdays, he has to leave with Sara or, again, ask his mum to come, and it’s all so frustrating.

They have forty minutes at most if they want Wille to make it back before curfew. Forty minutes isn’t a lot, but it’s not nothing. Wille goes easily wherever Simon pushes him towards, letting himself be manoeuvred and pushing right back. Simon notices Wille takes a moment longer to move with the same urgency, but he eventually meets him with the same passion, and their shirts fly off soon after.

#young royals fic #my fics #wilmon #put me back together and take my heart #wip #it's an abrupt ending i know but i can't spoil too much

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jbarness · 4 years ago

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y/n’s nth date

a oneshot

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

about: common room conversations. today's topic: y/n's quite extraordinary dating life.

a/n: so i may be a bit busier than i expected but here's a lil something that's been in my drafts for a while before i post the first chapter of keys. its coming up in a few hours hehe. lol this has a bit of resemblance to one of my other works hihi. if u know, u know 😉. anyways, enjoy!! feedback is highly appreciated!! ♡

❗please DO NOT repost, translate, or copy my works❗

my masterlist

“Ouch! What was that for, Y/N?!”

Tony yelled and Steve gave you his ever famous ‘eyebrows of disappointment’ when you threw a large pillow towards the cuddling couple. They were just sitting there on the floor, not even making a sound, just enjoying each other’s presence so it was pretty weird that you threw a pillow out of the blue.

You shrugged, “Nothin’ much, just felt like it.”

Everyone’s eyes were on you now. It’s not that you were acting weird, throwing stuff is kinda your thing. It’s just that you haven’t talked the whole time you were all in the common room, and you’ve all been there for an hour. You haven’t been talking for one fucking hour because you honestly felt lonely despite being around a room full of people you considered your family.

Most of them had someone. Tony has Steve, Wanda has Vision, Scott has Hope, Nat has Bruce, though he’s not here at the moment.

That leaves you, Sam, and Bucky, the members of the Single Club.

You loved them both dearly, you do, but you wanted a Steve to your Tony. Probably not the best example because of the whole Civil War thing, but they both truly loved each other, everyone could see that.

“You just felt like throwing a throw pillow to Tony and me while we were just sitting here barely talking?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It is a throw pillow,” you said, shrugging once again.

Tony grabbed the pillow and threw it back to you aggressively, "Doesn’t mean you should just throw it out of the blue! Maybe warn us next time?”

Sam laughed, catching the pillow that was about to hit your face, “Don’t mind her, she’s just being bitter.” You smiled at him, "Can’t argue with that.”

“Well, you should try to date then,” Natasha suggested, making you, Bucky, and Sam laugh.

“She kind of gave up on it,” Bucky said and looked at you with a small smirk.

You nodded before drinking from your cup that was on the table, “I always end up in the weirdest places!”

Scott tilted his head, making him look like a confused puppy, “Like where?”

“Uhh..,” you sighed, “Their parents’ basement, a car in the shop, oh and did you forget that one time that I went home covered in blood ‘cause I ended up in a Hydra base?”

Scott nodded with a wrinkled nose, “Yeah, it’s probably safer if you never go on a date again. That basement sounds kinda weird and creepy.”

"Scott, not helping. Y/N, not all guys will bring you to the weirdest places. Believe it or not, some guys are actually pretty great and decent like, uh, Steve here. He’s respectful and kind and caring,” Hope said, completely unaware of the highly offended man beside her.

Tony smirked, “In the bedroom’s a totally different story.”

You laughed at Scott who was now sitting straight, “I’m not just gonna ignore the fact that you used Steve as an example while you’re here cuddling me,” he complained.

"Scott’s okay too, kind of a dumbass, but okay,” Hope said nonchalantly.

Wanda untangled from her lover and leaned forward, “Ooh, maybe who you’re looking for is right in front of you but you may be too bitter to see it,” she said wiggling her eyebrows.

You looked at the person who was seating across from you, “Barnes?”

Okay. He’s good looking, you’ve said that a few times to yourself already. You were friends and you were scared because if you two dated, there was no turning back. You worked really hard to be his friend after he came back from Wakanda. When he came to the tower, he always followed Steve wherever he went. He didn’t really trust anyone except for Steve. He eventually talked to the others who teamed up with him and Steve. Unfortunately for you, you teamed up with Tony. So, you only talked to him after almost a year after he moved in.

You remember it as if it was yesterday, you were teasing Sam about… okay maybe you don’t remember the exact details. It doesn’t matter! You were teasing Sam when he walked into the kitchen. You remember making your voice louder for him to hear even though you know he has supersoldier hearing. He laughed at something you said which made both you and Sam look at him. Bucky was smiling at you. It was the first time you saw it, and damn. “Please, continue teasing Sam. It can be exhausting you know? I’m glad to know that there’s someone who can take my place when I’m not there to do it,” he said sipping his coffee.

That was the day you became friends with Bucky Barnes. Aaaaand betrayed Sam Wilson.

“All I’m saying is, look at Tony and Steve. Hope and Scott. Even Vis and I. We all didn’t date first. We were…co-workers or friends first. We didn’t force ourselves to make a good first impression. We didn’t force ourselves to like the other. It just… sorta happened,” Wanda said, looking at Vision lovingly.

"Well said, Wands,” Nat smiled.

Sam clapped, “Yes! Don’t give up on love, my darling Y/N,” he said enthusiastically.

Wanda frowned and tilted her head, “Not my point.”

“What is it, Wilson?” You said, squinting your eyes.

Sam smiled nervously, scratching the side of his head, “Welllllllll, I may have another blind date for you.”

You crossed your arms in front of you, “No.”

“This is the last one!” Sam grabbed ahold of your ankle that was on his lap the whole time. You tried to kick him off, “You said that 10 dates ago!” you yelled finally sitting properly on the couch.

“10?” Steve asked.

Sam kneeled in front of you, pleading, “This one won’t take you somewhere weird!”

You rolled your eyes, “You said that 11 dates ago.”

Nat waved her hands, gesturing us to stop talking, “You’ve had 12 or 13 blind dates and all of them took you to weird places?”

You nodded. Not all of it was bad though, maybe six or seven of them were gentlemen. The rest of them were fun in a childish way. But the places, oh man, you’ve been to places you never thought you’d end up in on a first date.

“Sam, where do you even meet these people?” Scott laughed, massaging his temples.

You saw a confused Vision turn to Wanda, “Sam has friends?”

Sam stood up, “I swear, this is the– Sam has frie- yes I have friends!”

“Look, Sam, I appreciate your effort to find me love but, I’m sorry, I don’t want you to be my wingman anymore,” you smiled sadly, grabbing his hand.

“But that’s my thing!” Sam frowned, stomping his feet. You rolled your eyes, very mature.

Tony smirked, “So the spot’s open?”

Bucky raised his hand excitedly, “I’ll set you up with someone!”

“No offense but, do you know anyone else besides us, Barnes?” Natasha scrunched her eyebrows at the smiling soldier.

He nodded slowly, “Yes, I do… I-I uh go running outside sometimes, you know?”

“Wait. I didn’t mean immediately!” You yelled causing them to laugh. They didn’t know you weren’t joking. Sam gave you a date every week. Every. Single. Week. That was after the third date. The first three dates he gave you? You called them the Thursday, Friday, Saturday incident. Yep, three dates for three consecutive days.

Bucky nodded, reading your face, “No rush, Y/N. I’m just saying, I have someone who you might be interested in.”

Steve laughed, “Do you even know this guy, Buck?”

You noticed Bucky’s scrunched eyebrows and pouted lips turn to narrowed eyes and tight lips as if he was debating himself about something, “Uhhh… Pretty well actually.”

Wanda suddenly gasped and giggled causing everyone to look at her weirdly. “You okay, Wands?” you raised an eyebrow. She nodded, placing her chin in the palm of her hands, “Mhm! Continue!”

Hope cleared her throat, “This guy is not just someone you passed by or something?”

“You should be asking Sam that,” Bucky defended, making Sam roll his eyes.

Bucky looked back at you with his gorgeous blue eyes and that freaking smile that you love so much, “Y/N give me a chance on matchmakin’?”

You hesitated, “I don’t know. You and Sam might be talking about the same guy”

Sam grunted, standing up, and went over to Bucky who whispered in his ear. Sam’s eyes widened, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape, turning to a big smile. “Very very different people, Y/N,” Sam’s smile got bigger and bigger as he went back to sit beside you.

You narrowed your eyes at the guys, “You sure?”

Here’s the thing, you don’t really trust those two idiots. They are not exactly friends, they’re more of frienemies. You three team up with one of you to make fun of the other or just prank the other.

They both nodded, “Absolutely.”

You gave in and sighed, “Okay. Just give me a week without a date please.”

“Sure,” Bucky smiled.

Nat cleared his throat, “So Y/N, tell us about every single guy Sam set you up with,” she wiggled her eyebrows, smirking.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. Yeah, this is gonna be a long night.

After the talk about your dating life, the team decided to play some games. These things usually get out of hand as everyone’s competitive, including yourself so you decided to just watch them.

You stood up from your seat to make yourself a popcorn while everyone else grabbed their own snacks. Bucky grabbed a drink from the fridge and stood next to you, watching the popcorn.

“Barnes, tell me all about the guy you’re setting me up with,” you turned to look at him.

He exhaled, “I…hope you’ll like him.”

“That’s it?” You tilted your head, “Come on, tell me more! What’s he like? Where’s he taking me?”

He chuckled, “That’s what the date is for, doll.”

You sighed, “Right, of course.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you while the rest of the team argued about what game they should play next.

“Is it… Sam?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He laughed, “It’s not, unfortunately. Unless you want me to set you up with him?” he smirked.

You shook your head, “Oh no thanks, he’s like a brother to me, you know that.”

Bucky smirked, leaning closer, “What about me, doll? What am I to you?”

The popping sounds saved you from the question, “I better…uh…the popcorn…I–” you said, doing all kinds of hand gestures. He chuckled and went back to the common room.

Damn, you can’t wait for your date with Bucky– your date with the guy Bucky set you up with. Damn it!

“Okay, these jeans or these leggings?” Wanda held up your choices.

You looked at Wanda confused. “If you have to run from your date or something. We both know you don’t like running in a dress.”

“Oh, smart,” you nodded as you chose the jeans.

Wanda was helping you out for your date tonight. She seems excited about it, you thought. You, on the other hand, are not excited at all. Wanda knows that you were debating on whether you should go or not.

This past week was… something. Bucky kept flirting with you. Sometimes you laugh at it or roll your eyes, but most times you found yourself flirting back. Steve always said how Bucky was a ladies man back in the day and now, you could see why. He’s so confident now and he is naturally charming. The weirdest part about this is that after he flirts with you, he brings up the date. And he’s excited about it! It just does not make sense to you at all.

Wanda was brushing your hair when she noticed your ‘thinking face’, “You’re gonna enjoy this I swear, Y/N,” she smiled at you through the mirror.

You nodded, “Yeah...yeah! I’ve just been thinking about...Bucky. He happily volunteered to set me up with someone then he suddenly becomes flirty every single day before the date… I just--I don’t understand,” sighing, you stood up and looked at yourself at a bigger mirror.

“No one really understands Bucky that much except for Steve,” Wanda laughed. She turned you around and checked whatever else you may need. “You’re good to go, honey!”

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked. Wanda smiled, “He’s out, Sam’s taking you to the...place you’re supposed to meet.”

Sam was awfully quiet driving his car. Something is definitely up. It’s been 15 minutes without him talking. He just hums whenever you talk.

“Alright, we’re here. Enjoy!” Sam said after he opened the car door for you. It was your favorite fast food place. Bucky must’ve told the guy that you love the food here.

You checked your messages for the 5th time tonight, ‘he’ll approach you when you enter :)’ Bucky wrote. You exhaled deeply, entering the restaurant.

“Hi, you look beautiful,” a voice from your left spoke up.

You looked over to see, “Bucky? What are you doing here?”

“I’m James, your date for tonight,” he smiled cheekily.

“Are you kidding me?” You raised an eyebrow, keeping yourself from smirking.

He shook his head, giving you the small bouquet of flowers he was holding. Taking your hand, he brought you to the table where you usually sat whenever you’re here with him. You were trying so hard to hide your smile but when you look at the man in front of you who was still smiling cheekily, you gave up and laughed.

“You know, Bucky told me you were cute and boy was he wrong. You’re beautiful, doll,” he said holding your hand that was on the table.

“Oh yeah? Did he also say that he flirted with me for the whole week after telling me that he’s setting me up on a date with you?” You smirked.

Buck-- James shrugged, “I mean, can you blame him? With you looking beautiful all the damn time, I can’t see why anyone wouldn’t make a move on you.”

You laughed, “Okay, okay. I still don’t understand any of this though.”

His flesh hand found its way on your cheek, making you look at his hypnotizing eyes. “I like you. A lot. You’ve always been so fun to be with, doll. You’re witty and sarcastic most of the time but you can be understanding and sweet when you need to be. You’re fierce and powerful. I just can’t get you out of your head ever since we went on that mission with Sam” he chuckled at the memory, “Remember? You took down the HYDRA agents while wearing that awfully large gown. Later on, we heard you singing a Backsync--?”

“Backstreet Boys”

“Backstreet Boys song, while there were screaming and gunshots in the background. You’re really strong and courageous, Y/N. I absolutely adore you.”

“I didn’t take you to be a sappy little shit, James” you smiled teasingly, “Buttttttt, I absolutely adore you too.”

He laughed, "Good to know, doll. But uhh, spoiler alert, you'll end up in a weird place after this date too."

You smirked, "And where's that?"

"In my arms," his cheeky smile found its way back to his lips, "Cause one's metal, the other's flesh. It's weird. Get it?"

280 notes · View notes

sooibian · 4 years ago

Text

Flambé (Preview)

poster and edits/collage credits to @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt !

🍜 pairing: kyungsoo x fem!reader

🍜 description: pull up a chair. take a taste. come join us. life is so endlessly delicious. - ruth reichl

🍜 themes: fluff, crack (ish), slight angst, a lil bit of spice (in the future), rivals to lovers au

🍜 word count: ~ 2.8k

🍜 a/n: a little preview of a chef kyungsoo story that i've been working on. while i have the plot fleshed out it'll honestly be a while before the long one/two-shot comes out since a lot of research goes into the details. and....i write at a snail's pace. thank you for your patience and lmk if you'd like a tag in the updates!

this story is inspired by a lot of random yt videos and netflix's shows - street food and chef's table.

tagging *deep breath* @j-pping and @changshapatrol (the real rotten banana is here!)

___________________________________________

Water bobbed in frenetic bubbles in a massive ancient stone pot that was perched atop a fort of raging wood. Amidst brutal peals of thunder, a gushing stream rose from a nearby hill, obscuring the shrill cries of the sacrificial crab.

Chanting a spell, you lifted the enormous crustacean by its pincers and lowered it into the growling, pitch black utensil. Blubbering helplessly, it lodged its claws at the rim of the pot in desperation - seeking escape. The sound of your maniacal laughter reverberated through the cave as you thrust it back into the violent undulation with the flick of a bladed-spatula.

All of a sudden, a wave of unconsciousness swept over you. You felt your skin singe as boiling water started to fill up your lungs.

You were alone - at the bottom of the very same utensil.

“Help!” frantic, you staggered up, gasping for air. But the bladed-spatula wielding crab, who was now free and hovering over you, roared at your defenseless form.

Maybe your spell didn't land, you thought.

“Please, Chef!” you whimpered.

In one swift motion, it swooshed down to your eye level.

Bushy black brows sprouted on its forehead, just a little over a pair of big brown circles for eyes. Then came the nose, followed by a bloody red mouth that snarled at you.

zzzz...

“Late again?” It drawled in a jarring tenor.

zzzz...

zzzz…

4:00 a.m., your phone blinked.

In a sleep befuddled state, your hand reached out for the wailing device. ‘Late again’, Chef’s cold, deep voice sounded in your consciousness as you wiped the droplets of sweat off your forehead.

Chef.

Doh Kyungsoo had insisted on the title and you'd defiantly refused to call him that. What business does a man working at a Kalguksu stand in Gwangjang Market have, being called a chef. You'd seeked redressal with the higher ups. The owner. Your aunt.

"Aegiya, he has something that you don't."

"A dick?"

"YAH! He has a degree in culinary arts. It's only befitting that we give him the respect his degree deserves!"

"Imo, haven't you watched Parasite? Anyone can forge documents these days and if so then why is he here? He could very well get a job at Four Seasons like Hyun Jin. Think, Imo. Think!”

“Exactly! With forged documents, he could be anywhere. But he’s here, no?”

“Maybe you’re just easier to manipulate.”

"Chef. You're calling him Chef."

Every time the egotistical madman opened that darned mouth of his, it made you want to knock him down with a roundhouse and beat the living daylights out of him.

But, with a deep breath, you always resisted the temptation.

Because one day, one glorious day, you’d take over your aunt’s business and the very first item on your agenda would be….well, the obvious. With a glimmer of hope, you floundered out of your comforter, muttering every cuss word you’d learnt...and crafted in the course of working with the devil himself.

“Ahh 3000 is a bit too much for cucumbers", he said to the middle aged vendor, flashing a boyish grin.

The face of sourcing had drastically changed in the last six months since Kyungsoo’s arrival. Prior to his dictatorship, your aunt had a tie up with some of the local vendors who’d hand deliver the produce every single day, without fail. Guess Kyungsoo didn’t fully comprehend the benefits of customer loyalty. ‘There could be better quality ingredients out there, Sajangnim...economically priced, I might add’, he’d convinced your aunt using his military corporal voice. No matter if it meant awkward break-ups with the vegetables ahjumma or the prawns ahjussi. You had to do the dirty work.

And tag along for the routine 5 a.m sourcing runs. Every morning, he greeted you with an accusatory ‘you’ve killed my cat’ expression.

You groaned, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. If only he’d quit flirting with every woman in the market and hurry up! The purchases had long exceeded the capacity of your humble cart. Flailing your numb arms awake, you urged him to speed up with a nudge of the knee but he glared at you like you’d asked him for a kidney.

Kyungsoo had a tendency to overbuy but never would he help with a single bag. ‘I don’t like to sweat’ was his excuse. Which was pretty ridiculous considering he spent over ten hours a day overseeing a scorching frying pan. But you knew better than to argue. Because as much as you loathed every fibre of his existence, he terrified you a little. The man possessed the duality of a psychopath. As fierce as he was in the Market, ruthlessly competitive even, he was quite the sweet talker. And you could bet your life on the fact that every woman - whether or not a rival - would take a bullet for him.

“Ahdeul-ah”, the woman cooed at him, making your insides violently contort, “you know how tight the market is these days. But I’ll throw in some more only for you.”

The additional weight of three kilos on your right arm ended your sourcing run for the day.

***

“Chef”, huffing, you said to him on your way out, “I had a late night last night.”

“And I need to be privy to this little nugget of unwarranted information because?” He paced ahead of you at his usual lightning speed.

“No, I meant, could we stop”, panting you continued, “could we stop for a quick cup of coffee.”

Halting abruptly, he turned around to look you in the eyes, “No.”

“Asshole!”

“I heard that.”

Monday at Choi Yoonsun’s was busier than usual.

It went by in a daze amidst a cacophony of a sizzling girdle, clanging of pots and pans and your aunt’s relentless vocalization inviting customers to the stall. Having served thousands of bowls of Kalguksu and Kimchi Mandu, you heavily relied on muscle memory to get you through a workday’s demands.

Despite its chaos and commotion, you quite enjoyed working in the Market.

Not being particularly skilled at much and having nearly flunked out of high school, cooking was the one thing that defined you. It was your safe harbour. You’d lost your father in an accident at the tender age of ten and your mother was forced to work long hours to put food on the table. So you honed your culinary skills, little by little, because you thought it vital for your own well being as well as your mother’s.

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.

At the end of yet another gratifying day, you left a wet towel soaking in vinegar for Kyungsoo to clean the iron girdle and proceeded to tend to the dirty dishes.

“Yahh!” Imo called out for Kyungsoo and you, thumping her hand on the table, gesturing for you to join her.

“Ahh! Imo, there’s a huge pile of dirty dishes!” You cried, only to turn around to find that ass-kisser already at the table, schmoozing with your aunt. Hastily taking off your grubby apron, you washed your hands and wiped them clean with a rag cloth. Straightening your black shirt and flattening unruly flyaways, you rushed toward the table but she was already up and ready to leave, “We’ll have dinner together tonight. I want to have a chat with the both of you.”

“But -”

“Sajangnim”, Kyungsoo interrupted, wagging a finger in your direction, “this one’s had a late night last night -”

“Chef! So I guess I’ll be seeing you tonight. As if seeing you every day of every week wasn’t enough already!”

An overtly saccharine smile spread across your face and his jaw tightened in response.

“Aish….you two...I’m leaving now”, she sighed, shaking her head, “see you both in two hours.”

Kimchi jjigae, pajeon, tteokbokki, jajangmyeon, some leftover bibimbap with sides galore from Hong Lim Banchan Stall. She clearly had something important to talk about.

But the vibe at the dinner table just didn’t sit right with you.

The reason could be the bespectacled black hole of negativity that was seated besides you in all black clothing but there was something off about Imo.

She was being a little too...nice.

Fear gradually started to settle in your bones. Was she finally closing down? Was this delectable fare an attempt at softening the blow? After all, she’d settled her husband’s debts and her sons were doing well for themselves. Quite well, in fact. One of them was a banker and the other even went to culinary school and was working as a chef at Four Seasons’ Chinese restaurant. It only made sense for her to trade the Market’s gruelling ways for some much deserved peace and quiet.

“We’re closing down the stall”, she said coolly.

It was like a punch in the gut.

“Imo -”

“Aga”, she said resting her chin on her hand, “the Market’s given me everything. It’s given me a sense of pride...a sense of independence. It put my family back together. I used to think that I’m nothing without my husband and my sons...but the Market gave me an identity.”

A million scenarios cascading through your head drowned out your aunt’s voice. Would you now have to go back to Bucheon? Or invest in a stall of your own at the traditional Gwangjang that’d never accept your big and bold ways with cooking? And to start from scratch? With a new recipe? Kalguksu with a twist, perhaps? But you had no insight into your aunt’s special broth. She’d barely even let you whip up the hand-cut noodles.

You realized that you weren’t the only one caught in the eye of the storm. Kyungsoo’s eyes were scarily fixated on the bowl of jajangmyeon before him. His seemingly miserable state gave you a fleeting sense of relief and it was right in that moment that he chose to say something unpalatable.

“Sajangnim, you’ve worked too hard. It’s time for you to reap the fruits of your labour. We’ll be fine you don’t have to worry about us.”

Of course he’ll be fine.

All the stall-owners in the Market have been vying for him ever since the day he set foot into Choi Yoonsun’s. Whereas, you had nowhere to go. The world conveniently assumes your aunt hired you only because you were her poor sister’s daughter who she sought to help financially. Not because you had what it took to be there and survive.

"Did I say I was ready to retire?” She laughed, eyeing Kyungsoo quizzically, leaving you dumbfounded.

“Here’s the thing..I met up with a friend last month. She was looking for a buyer for her little family run marinated crabs restaurant in Gangnam. So I took out a loan, made her an offer”, balling her hands into fists she sighed, “put in the deposit...and the place is pretty much mine now!”

“IMO!”, you yelled, “why did you scare me like that! I thought I was laid off!”

“Well, it’s a big move, I’m not sure the two of you are ready to make...requires a tonne of work and I may not be able to pay half of what you earned at the Market for at least two months until we open! It’ll take us two years or so to break even and only then will I be able to afford you a pay raise. I could help you get a job at the banchan stall since you love seasoned spinach so much and Kyungsoo stands a chance at even managing one of the Pakgane stalls!”

Pakgane was the mung bean pancake stall that had gotten so popular that the owner had managed to branch out of Gwangjang. So even your beloved aunt believed that you’d make for a better “help” and Kyungsoo, a Manager.

Ugh!

“I’m coming with you”, you said firmly, “I’ve saved up a little and Mom will gladly pitch in, if need be...”

At this point, you’d expected Kyungsoo to be ready with his luggage considering the little sycophant he was but his expression was stoic, eyes still glued to the jajangmyeon bowl. It filled you with insane hope.

He was going to jump the ship...finally!

“Chef...”, you couldn’t resist, “you don’t have to worry about us...I’m more than enough for Imo. You may...”

He shot you an angry glare making you chew on your unsaid words. But you wanted to rile him just a little more. So you excused yourself to bring a bottle of ketchup and squeezed it generously atop the stack of pajeon while eyeing him maliciously.

Ketchup.

The tangy, unassuming condiment was the sole reason Kyungsoo despised you. As this dinner marked the end of his torturous regime, you celebrated with ketchup - lots of it - right in front of his nasty eyes.

Steam swirled in different directions and at every twenty metres a contrastive redolence tickled your olfactory senses. Experiencing Gwangjang as a customer was a far richer experience compared to the donkeywork involved in a life as a vendor.

A proper send-off was essential lest Kyungsoo decided to stay, even if it burned a hole in your pocket. You planned on giving him a final tour of the Market where he (and you) could say his goodbyes while receiving a premium fuel of vitamins, minerals and carbs.

A whole lot of carbs.

“Let’s start with Pakgane”, said Kyungsoo, with a skewered sausage in his hand.

You shook your head in response. You wanted to start with the best and mung bean pancakes weren’t it. This was going to be a farewell he’d never forget.

With every step you took, the aroma of scallops drizzled with butter and cheese grew stronger. You started your tour by ordering two portions of the delectable street food which set you back considerably. But you were too elated to care. You refused Kyungsoo’s offer to pay as the woman set the scallops on fire with a blow torch.

“Do you know what that technique’s called?” Kyungsoo gave a little nod in the direction of the aflame food.

Another teachable moment.

You’d made a firm resolve to not let any of his condescension bog you down so with a sweet smile, you replied, “No, Chef. I do not.”

“Flambé. But minus the alcohol. Do you know how they manage that?”

The ahjumma came to your rescue and you jumped to collect the order. You could’ve sworn that you caught the corner of his mouth twitch slightly.

***

The Market supposedly looked the same as it did fifty years ago and you quite enjoyed eating your way through it. The tour made your heart grapple with nostalgia even though your partner’s personality was akin to a mug of insipid coffee.

Although you’d spent only a little over a year with Choi Yoonsun, the goodbyes were long and hard. Some of the vendors squeezed you and Kyungsoo in heart wrenching hugs, the others gave you a little cash to help you through the transition and for some of the food, you paid in smiles and love.

After a gastronomic fiesta that entailed tteokbokki, pajeon (minus the ketchup - you did it Kyungsoo’s way), sashimi, kimbap, different types of banchan, a thousand more teachable moments, the both of you ended the day on a sweet note with hotteok.

The ahjussi wished you both luck, making you choke back tears.

Kyungsoo noticed.

“Are you…. Is the hotteok spicy? No, I mean it’s obviously not...erm”

The dam of your tears burst.

You were going to miss this place. Even the less appealing aspects of it. You were going to miss the kimbap unnie who greeted you with a hug everyday, also the snooty mandu ahjumma who could hardly stand the sight of you. You were even going to miss washing dishes in the winters with water that was supposed to be ice and the sweltering summers which had you sweating through every layer of clothing.

Hell, you were even going to miss Kyungsoo.

“No”, you sniffled, “No, no Chef, it’s nothing. Take care of yourself. As much as I’m glad that our fateful working relationship has met its rightful end, I truly, genuinely, wish you luck. And learn to smile more often, yeah?”

“Are you dying?” He gleamed.

“What? NO! What? You’re leaving. What is wrong with you?”

“Who says I’m leaving?”

“You! You’re not coming with us to Gangnam!”

“Says who?”

“Your stupid face that looked like it was hit by a freight train when Imo broke the news last week!”

“I’m not leaving?” He mused.

“This is no time to joke, Chef. You are leaving!”

“Says who!”

“Your stu-”

“Stupid face? I wasn’t planning on leaving at all. I’ve even found myself a place close to the restaurant. Oh yeah, sorry for having misled you. It was really just - my stupid face.”

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luvdsc · 4 years ago

Note

"Making it hard to let go of this blog" ? Are you considering leaving your writing blog ? As in no writing anymore or no writing about nct ?

aaaa you caught that, honey bee? 😅 I’ve hit a bit of a writer’s block, like I haven’t been motivated to write anymore, which is why I haven’t written anything since I posted pussy blocked two months ago. And with life starting to go back to normal here with everyone getting vaccinated and all, my social life is starting back up again and I’m busier now than I was during the past year of social distancing :’) I’m hoping maybe the dreamies’ comeback will get me interested in nct again but tbh..... I haven’t really been following with them since January and I’m so behind on their content, aside from winwin stuff 😭 also, writing has never been one of my main priorities either, it’s just something I do when I’m bored, but now that I have less time on my hands without quarantine, there’s less time for me to be sitting around and writing stories. I’m kinda just in a stagnant phase with this blog right now. I don’t want to say that I’m definitely shutting down the blog soon, but it has been on the back of my mind 🤧 I’m gonna try to write a different lil blurb thing for the dreamies right now though so fingers crossed !!! I’m hoping this makes me interested in writing again :’) but if not, then well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#asks #anonymous

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deadcactuswalking · 4 years ago

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 08/05/2021 (Billie Eilish, DJ Khaled)

Whilst this is slightly busier than last week, I am genuinely surprised with how little is actually going on here on this week’s chart, a lot less than I expected or predicted. With that said, the top of the chart is where our biggest story comes from and that is “Body” by Russ Millions and Tion Wayne taking advantage of a weak chart with its star-studded remix and peaking at #1 for its first week, replacing Lil Nas X’s “MONTERO (Call Me by Your Name)”. Not only is it the biggest hit for both of these guys and their first #1s, but it’s the first #1 for the entire UK drill genre, which kind of came out of nowhere for me since I think the song’s pretty worthless but with a TikTok challenge and streaming numbers that have even placed it in the American Spotify chart, it��s gearing up to be one of the biggest British rap songs ever. Let’s hope maybe this one doesn’t stall out as badly as “Don’t Rush” outside of the UK. With all that out of the way, let’s start REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

Our only new arrival from last week’s UK Top 75 (which is what I cover), “Come Through” by H.E.R. featuring Chris Brown, is gone on the next off of the debut. Well, at least we have more than one new song this week, as well as some interesting chart nonsense lower down, but also some notable drop-outs for “Mr. Perfectly Fine” by Taylor Swift, “Mercury” by Dave and Kamal., “Lemon Pepper Freestyle” by Drake featuring Rick Ross, “All You Ever Wanted” by Rag’n’Bone Man (which will rebound next week as that album makes its impact) as well as “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles finally making what seems to be its last exit. Our only return is in the form of “Confetti” by Little Mix getting a massive surge back at #15 after its Saweetie remix and the attached music video, though Saweetie doesn’t happen to be credited here.

We do have an interesting selection of gains and losses, as with the notable fallers – dropping five spots or more down the chart – we have “Titanium” by Dave at #23, “Wellerman” by Nathan Evans and remixed by 220 KID and Billen Ted getting ACR’d down to #29 (it had a surprisingly great run), “The Business” by Tiesto having the same happen to it at #32, “We’re Good” by Dua Lipa at #40, “drivers license” by Olivia Rodrigo at #43, “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd at #45, “Don’t Play” by Anne-Marie, KSI and Digital Farm Animals at #51, “Calling My Phone” by Lil Tjay and 6LACK hit hard to #54, the same with “Up” by Cardi B at #59, “You” by Regard, Troye Sivan and Tate McRae shaking off the gains #63, “Get Out My Head” by Shane Codd at #60, “Heat” by Paul Woolford and Amber Mark at #66, “Solid” by Young Stoner Life, Young Thug and Gunna featuring Drake at #69, “Paradise” by MERDUZA and Dermot Kennedy at #71 and, sadly, “How Does it Feel” by London Grammar at #75.

Where it gets a bit more telling about how the charts are going to adapt into the Summer is in our climbers as we have solid gains for “Another Love” by Tom Odell making another run at #60, “Sunshine (The Light)” by Fat Joe, DJ Khaled and Amorphous inexplicably at #57 and now we get into the top 40 where we have more potential future hits. “Way Too Long” by Nathan Dawe, Anne-Marie and MoStack is at #38, “Don’t You Worry About Me” brings the Bad Boy Chiller Crew their first hit at #37 (although the song is only ever worth hearing for that chorus) and “WITHOUT YOU” by the Kid LAROI returns to the top 40 at #30 thanks to a remix with Miley Cyrus who is again not credited by the Official Charts Company. Boney M. are granted their first new top 20 hit since the 1990s, even if it is just a remix of a song that went #2 in 1978, as Majestic’s remix of “Rasputin” is at #18. Our final gain is for a song first entering the top 10 thanks to the remix with Ariana Grande finally making an impact – yet once again not given the official credit by the OCC – as “Save Your Tears” by the Weeknd makes its way up to #8, becoming his tenth top 10 hit here in Britain. That’s not the only song to first enter the top 10 this week but we’ll get to that in due time with our... odd selection of new arrivals this week.

NEW ARRIVALS

#73 – “EVERY CHANCE I GET” – DJ Khaled featuring Lil Baby and Lil Durk

Produced by DJ Khaled and Tay Keith

Two of our new entries are from DJ Khaled’s most recent album Khaled Khaled, an album much like any Khaled album I found cheap and just dull. This record especially is just mixed horribly, with a budget spent exceedingly on getting big-name features instead of any worthwhile engineers to actually mix and master this 50-minute trainwreck. The album doesn’t have many highlights at all but if I had to choose some they would be the two debuting this week, the first of which is basically a Lil Baby cut, “EVERY CHANCE I GET”, with a verse from Lil Durk. Okay, so, yes, first of all, much like the rest of the record, this mix is compressed and just weak, with bizarre bass mastering and drums that sound like garbage, before we get to Lil Baby himself sounding even froggier than ever. I do think that gives the song part of its charm, though, as with a Tay Keith beat, it’s definitely going for a hardcore, old-school Memphis rap atmosphere, and with Lil Baby’s flow switches disguising paranoid lyrics about the typical gunplay and flexing, it does effectively make a pretty intimidating listen... okay, well, it would, if DJ Khaled didn’t have to pop in to convince Lil Baby to “keep going”. We also get a single verse from Lil Durk here, mixed like he recorded his vocals in his bath to the point where it’s clipping against the bass, but delivering a King Von-esque flow that sounds pretty great, and admittedly more detail than you’d expect. I also love that silly “mmm-mmm” flow he uses at the end. I do wish a song like this, clearly supposed to be menacing, did not have the ludicrous personality void that is DJ Khaled on it, and it’s not like they need Khaled to collaborate together – or with Tay Keith for that matter – so I don’t really see why the dude doesn’t just shut up and promote his albums as compilations instead. I understand it comes from his mixtape days, but if this is going to be a studio album, treat it like one and just be quiet for once.

#72 – “Oblivion” – Royal Blood

Produced by Royal Blood

Royal Blood got the #1 album this week for Typhoons and admittedly, whilst I am interested in this band, I haven’t gotten around to listening to it, so I’ll take this album cut as a preview of what to come. If I am doing that, I hope to be surprised by whatever else that album has in store as I’m not really a fan of this. That eerie choppy guitar loop being immediately crushed by this heavily distorted riff and stiff percussion just does not sound unique or interesting, especially if Mike Kerr is going to sound this soulless. The build towards the chorus feels pretty pathetic and unwarranted, and said chorus is just not catchy, before we get to content about how he knows his fate through how arrogant he’s been and he deserves what’s coming to him. I mean, sure, but there’s nothing that makes it obvious that these guys don’t care about what’s coming to them given the pained vocal delivery and monotonous instrumental. It doesn’t feel exciting, rebellious or whatever emotion this tries and fails to capture, just stiff and staggered in its execution. This does make sense for Royal Blood but seems to me like they’re resting way too heavily on ideas ran through the soil at this point. With all that said, this isn’t bad at all, just not as great as those other singles have been from the record. I think I’d be more forgiving if it didn’t come off as a Queens of the Stone Age tribute act writing “originals” that bomb at their shows.

#56 – “love race” – Machine Gun Kelly featuring Kellin Quinn

Produced by Jeff Peters, Jared Gudstadt and Travis Barker

I guess this might actually be a rock-heavy week – not that I’m complaining about more of a rock presence on the chart but God, I wish it wasn’t coming from MGK. I’ll have some choice words to say about this guy’s last attempt at a pop-rock hit by the end of the year, probably, but at least for this song he brought on someone with some kind of legitimacy. Kellin Quinn is the frontman of post-hardcore band Sleeping with Sirens, one of the most successful bands in their genre but not one unlike others that grew out of the metalcore-infused pop rock to anything more unique or experimental. With that said, Quinn is barely here and other than Travis Barker’s typical explosive drums, MGK is the biggest presence here in his raspy but borderline unlistenable vocal tone that I just can’t stand, especially if it’s going to stretch out “run” as long and as far as he did in that longing, desperate chorus. MGK barely even lets Kellin Quinn have his own verse, registering him as backing vocals throughout the entire song, dampening his vocals that sound a lot more unique and enthused, especially when he starts screaming. That bridge did give me trancecore flashbacks – not that I’m complaining if I’m fully honest – so I’ll admit the part of me that eats up emo-pop garbage did let this grow on me a bit, but, man, without a guitar solo to distract from pretty awful lyrics (not that I’d expect much more from this artist or genre) and without really letting Quinn loose on the vocals, it’s lacking a certain grit and punch I expect from post-hardcore. The song did, however, indirectly remind me of New Found Glory, for which I am thankful for.

#53 – “I DID IT” – DJ Khaled featuring Post Malone, Megan Thee Stallion, Lil Baby and DaBaby

Produced by Ben Billions, Joe Zarrillo, DJ 360, Tay Keith and DJ Khaled

You wouldn’t expect an artist line-up like this to continue this trend of rock in this week’s new arrivals, but you’d be surprised, and personally I’m pretty happy with how much rock seems to be creeping up back into the public consciousness as if there’s one thing I got back in touch with the most over lockdown, it was the rock music I was raised on and it led to me even further appreciating a genre I had kind of lost touch with over the years out of just a lack of interest. With that said, this isn’t a rock song per se, but it does heavily and lazily sample a classic like much of this Khaled album, going for “Layla” by Derek and the Dominos. I’m not going to lie, either, it sets up a pretty effective back-bone for a trap banger about being awesome, especially with those squealing riffs in the chorus. Oh, yeah, and the mixing is horrible as expected, but to be honest to me it does not dampen the boasting, anthemic nature of this track, especially with Post Malone being a perfect choice to croon that infectious chorus. Megan Thee Stallion has a pretty embarrassingly by-the-numbers verse over a switch in the beat that makes it sound oddly stunted, but she does have that swinging rock charisma that people like Lil Baby do not have. With that said, I think I’m at the point where I eat anything Lil Baby says or does, because the flow switches combined with his frog-throat delivery is just impeccable. Content-wise, I think everyone here realises they’re being squashed by the clipping beat as they just go off about complete nonsense that goes in one ear and out the other apart from Lil Baby’s misguided but still pretty funny line about how he contemplated going vegan but sees no point in it because he’s got ten karats in both of his ears. Sure. At least DJ Khaled as something to do as he... harmonises, I guess, with Posty on the chorus. DaBaby is as distant as possible from the microphone to the point where I can barely hear him, not that it matters when his verse is that basic and short. This is kind of a trainwreck in all honesty, but with four choruses and a beat this heavy, it’s hard to be annoyed by it. Overwhelming maybe but these performers are all characters by themselves and throwing them in this three-minute chaos of squealing guitars and trap skitters just fascinates me if anything. Does it count as a posse cut? I don’t know. Either way, this is hilarious.

#5 – “Your Power” – Billie Eilish

Produced by FINNEAS

Decidedly not hilarious is this new single from Billie Eilish looking to be a smash from that upcoming album which now has a track listing and release date, with this functioning as I suppose the true lead single and her seventh top 10 here in the UK. It’s a brave choice too considering the lyrical content which is a pretty scathing attack on her ex-boyfriend and their abusive relationship, making several references to the gap in age and power dynamic that played into something really distressing for the both of them but especially a young, vulnerable Billie Eilish who found herself helpless in this relationship because of that “hero” quickly revealing himself as little more than his projected insecurities. The song’s detailed enough not to detach itself from Billie’s personal struggles but also works as what I suppose is a warning, as it’s retelling a story all too familiar with many girls of her age at the time who end up in these really scary situations. It does help that the song itself is great, relying on these layered acoustic guitars to form some kind of dejected groove behind Eilish’s vocals, whispery and cooing as always but in this case way too loud in the mix for my taste to the point where it kind of takes me out of the song as a whole. With a better master that blends her vocal take a lot better into the guitars, maybe going for a fuzzier, dream-pop angle, could work a lot better but with that said, I do understand the purpose of making it feel this intimate and minimal because Billie’s honest songwriting calls for a delivery like this, even if she ends up sounding shakier or even mumbling at times as a result. This is a big debut for Billie for a song not prepared to do as well as it did given its content and sound that is not exactly radio-friendly and oftentimes requires more heavy of a listen than a pop song would otherwise. I do love that final outro as her humming careens off the gentle guitars with just enough scratch but I do question how abrupt the ending is. Hopefully when the album’s out, we’ll have a bigger picture to as where this single in particular fits in.

Conclusion

With only five new arrivals and not much in the way of anything bad, I guess Worst of the Week goes to “Oblivion” by Royal Blood but giving a Dishonourable Mention would just end up as dishonest. Therefore, Best of the Week goes to Billie Eilish for “Your Power” but – and I cannot believe I am saying this for a 3/10 album with only fluke hits – but DJ Khaled – and Lil Baby for that matter – get a tied Honourable Mention for both of their songs, “EVERY CHANCE THAT I GET” with Lil Durk and “I DID IT” with Post Malone, Megan Thee Stallion and DaBaby. Now to distract from the fact I just did that, here’s this week’s top 10:

I can’t really make any healthy predictions for next week. Maybe we’ll get some songs from Lil Tecca, Rag’n’Bone Man or Bebe Rexha? Maybe we’ll end up with some fluke Weezer smash hit, who knows? Regardless, thank you for reading and I’ll see you next week.

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theholycovenantrpg · 4 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS, PHOEBE! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF SALOME.

Admin Rosey: This was incredibly difficult. Both applications were stunning and shined in the limelight - but there were these small details, Phoebe, that you included that had us absolutely captivated. Salome, I think, is a difficult character to encompass so wholly while not overlooking the details. But you managed to do that, to tie her all together while not putting her in a package. The application was such a joy to read from beginning to end - the way that you tied so many different characters into her, into her future. It was an absolute thrill to read because I was able to see so much while still being tantalized by possibilities. I can’t wait to see how Salome shines on the dash! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Phoebe

Age | 22

Personal Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | Pretty active (6/10?) due to a national lockdown, but I’m a postgrad student so some days are busier than others.

Timezone | GMT

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group? | I check out the ‘new rpg’ tag a few times a year & your graphics and then everything drew me in

Current/Past RP Accounts | Masha Vetrova @ ProchnostRPG

IN CHARACTER

Character | SALOME

What drew you to this character? | Typically I tend to go for characters who have a fundamental moral alignment of ‘good’ (even if it’s been a bit corrupted) so at first I was really drawn to Gabriel/Abaddon/Isolde. I even brainstormed them a bit before moving onto the demon bios.

But then I read Salome’s bio, and I really couldn’t get her out of my mind. There is something so delicious about her, so dastardly poetic. In a way, she’s as pure of heart as many morally good characters - patient, steadfast, true to herself. It’s just that her heart is a blackened one. A nature so rotted that even eternal damnation in Hell’s Abyss was not enough. The only fitting destiny was a demonic one, and the wings tore out of her body as if they’d been there, dormant, all along.

I know the story of Salome (thanks Oscar Wilde) & I just adore the way in which the bio weaves the biblical story into this world and this character. Salome the Temptress, unflinching as she demands the head of John the Baptist and damns all around her to Hell. This one line in particular from Rosey really, really captured it all for me:

No, the minute her mortal heart stopped beating and she opened her eyes to the fires of Hell, there was only laughter to be heard – pouring from her lips as melodic as a lark’s song, a stark contrast to the wailing and grinding of teeth.

Salome feels young and charming and spoiled and light and warm and content and this image - her descending into Hell, disrupting it with her peals of laughter - sums it all up. She is arrogant and uninhibited with her sins plain for all to see. But she is also clever. She is a girl who dances with the dead; demon through and through. She lets them openly see it so that they do not think to look closer. For if they did, surely they would see Salome was more damned than they’d ever envisioned? See that the open delight she projects - the laughter and fevered dancing, - all distract from a mind capable of cold, calm strategy? See that her hands are beautiful because they are stained with the first blood of this new world?

…All of which is to say that Salome the Temptress has worked that tempting magic of hers on me too - hook, line and sinker.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | If it serves your guys’ plotting vision then absolutely! I’d just ask to write the death scene/have some say in the way it went down. (The person killing her off better be prepared for the fight of their lives).

FUTURE PLOT IDEAS

• (small) PLEASURES •

Grand plans and power grabs are all very well, but day to day (on the dash lol) Salome is ruled by small pleasures and indulgences. What was the point of forging this new world if not to luxuriate in it?

01. I’m very curious to see how her relations with all the other demons play out. Salome is by and large a solitary creature - the natural result of her arrogance - but I think there are some demons she favours more than others. I could see a potential friendship (or the lesser version of that bond) with ORIAS, for one. There were those who saw something akin to witchcraft in Salome too. There had been envy, when Orias was hailed the Original Witch, but even Salome has come to recognise the ungodly power that resides in them. They are one of the only creatures that Salome has any real respect for. She understands that there is value to learn in what Orias can teach.They call them the false prophet - it seems poetic that Salome is drawn to her. (So ! Much ! Potential ! Witchy ! Power !)

02. So too can I imagine Salome having a particular curiosity towards MAMMON. Hungry and dark and empty, Mammon is probably Salome’s demonic ideal. With mortal origins herself, they represent a different kind of demon – one she thinks is utterly beautiful. Their future ambitions could align, both with a deep, aching appetites, but I can also see her purely enjoying the unique company of them. Salome does not treat her ability with any real respect or caution; she sees the dead as a game. think she’d genuinely delight in Mammon mimicking her gift and the amusements that could follow. (Ok not to say I’m suggesting deal body party games but it’s very that)

03. Salome gets equal pleasure (if not a great deal more) from less-than-friendly relations. She pushes purely because other people’s irritation amuses her. I think her relationship with AZAZEL in particular could be very, very fun. Of all the demons, I can see Salome having a particularly petty dislike / jealousy of Azazel for a few many reasons.. A) they are both products of indulgence, daughters of parents (literally and figuratively) who spoiled them rotten. Similarities repel and all that. B) Azazel is part of the de facto royal family, favoured by JUDAS.. and DAMIEN .. and ABADDON .. and Salome has not ever handled that well. She watched on as they, along with the rest of hell, fell for her and thus a time-old grudge was born. C) Azazel forms part of the Holy Land’s rulership. A land that was won because of Salome (in her mind) and one she feels has rights of ownership too. I imagine that Salome genuinely despises that the role was given to Azazel of all demons. I - I just sense so many great opportunities for both bickering and battling.

04. Salome draws great pleasure from her own magnetism. Devotion has followed her throughout the stages of her life, but it too has come to wax and wane. It is there in BASTIEN though, and it’s one of the connections I’m most excited for. He satisfies her addiction, and in return she is both doting and cruel. There is some value in him politically, bu it’i more of a .. personal connection. That could change though. Or, perhaps a genuine fondness might develop, in the same way that other celestial beings seem to be fond of their animal companions. A muted form of possessiveness over his gaze and his wonderment (which may well manifest in Salome having a particular resentment towards EVANGELINE) . If he were to share out his devotion, or if it was curtailed by any harm coming to Bastien himself, Salome would not be happy. Perhaps his attentions have come to somewhat satiate her appetite and tentatively restrains her darkest needs - a fact that neither of them have realised. (!!!!!)

• (medium) OPPORTUNITIES •

05. There are some things she keeps to herself - at least for now. There’s a lot of potential for self-paras or connections with the wider RP plot. To me, Salome has something akin to true addiction inside of her. It was there from the moment of her mortal birth, and it worsened with each hit. Essentially, I think an inescapable plot point is that Salome is a lil’ bit bloodthirsty. I think this would largely be developed through my own musings and mortals who are just ‘extras’ to this RP, but I’d love to deal with the intricacies of Salome having to cover this habit. Maybe she continues to use others as scapegoats; maybe she chooses her victims with careful attention so that they go unnoticed; maybe she does it in such a way that implies the presence of a beast or daemonium.

( In fact, the concept of the DAEMONIUM is verrrrrrrrrry intriguing. Creates who inhabit corpses and do nothing but feed their hunger? Sounds like a character I know. This is a potential plot point that relies on your guys’ vision and some collaborative world-building, but I think there is definitely exciting potential to explore these creatures through Salome. Imagine the carnage of her trying (successfully or unsuccessfully) to out-possess them.)

06. I think Salome would take any opportunity to poison Infernum’s highest-ranking. This isn’t so much be her political ‘end-goal’, but an opportunity for some real entertainment. It would be a game, try and crack the kinship that exists among AZAZEL, JUDAS, DAMIEN and ABADDON; injecting a few words here, a few doubts there, and see if their loyalty lasts.. She knows Judas from a past life and has watched him oh so carefully overtheir many entwined centuries - I imagine she is a gnat to him, pushing all the right (and thus wrong) buttons. It would a sport to try and make his familial dynasty crumble. Perhaps she might attempt this by throwing doubt on to Abaddon in particular, whose aura contains a flatness that Salome cannot read. Salome doesn’t know of the goodness that lies in her, but perhaps she might find out. Regardless, I think Salome’s worst imaginable fate would be being locked in the Black Cells, unable to dance and revel in the world, so she harbours dislike for Abaddon anyway…

07. EPHEMERA is an opportunity that Salome had not anticipated. And let me tell you, boy do I adore this connection. It strikes me as a true clashing of teeth and spirits, but not as simple as one born from pure malice or hatred. Salome feels many things towards Ephemera, but she certainly doesn’t hate her - even if the ferocity between them implies otherwise sometimes. There’s a thin line between love and hate, as they say, though perhaps neither of those terms sum up Salome an Ephemera. It seems to be pure passion and temptation. I can’t say where this could lead without the thoughts of a possible Ephemera writer, but I’m sure it will be nothing short of explosive. I think this connection is the most Salome has ever felt towards another being, and that in itself is curious to her.

• (great) AMBITIONS •

The possible destinies of Salome. The following are all ways in which her story could play out, and all of them are quite dramatic. Who’s afraid of the big, bad plots….

08. Infernum technically has no throne. In order to thus claim it, perhaps one first has to be built? Salome would have no qualms choosing a side in another demonic cvil war. Why, if DAMIEN were to stake the claim of his birthright against JUDAS, he could count on Salome for support. If Judas were to live up to his title and betray the antichrist, he could count on Salome for support - if he got there before the other. Salome will happily help them consolidate a throne through bloodshed and betrayal. In fact, it will be her pleasure.

For through it all, Salome will be the demon who has thought to use MICHAEL. They are insufferable and righteous and (quite literally) archangel incarnate - really, if she had the chance, she knows that their blood would be the most utterly divine to spill - but they are useful. Undeniably powerful. Salome knows she must be careful here, but she enjoys the undisguised exasperation on their face. As if they have not yet thought to recognise the ambition that lies in both of them. If they helped her ascend to the throne of Infurnem, she would be a far more acquiescent to Caelum’s interests than the current leadership. Why? Because Salome would not act - would not even pretend to act - on behalf of demonic interests. If the best chance of her claiming ownership of the world depended on sharing it with Michael, then perhaps she would be willing.

09. But power can manifest in more than one way. She could follow such dreams, or she could become the world’s nightmares. And wouldn’t that be more indulgent? Where others hold power or peace as their prime ambition, Salome would get equal pleasure from the simple decay of all things. The world could rot and she would laugh - the dead are often better company than the living. Ultimately Salome would start another war without hesitation; she would sacrifice everything and everyone for the beautiful carnage of utter destruction. It had been so easy with the War of the Last Rites, but she had been disappointed when it ended in peace. That will not happen again; she will be ready next time. When all factions are suitably engaged, she will raise her own force and strike them all down together. — Such are her thoughts anyway. Thoughts that started developing when she met RYUK. To her, the power Ryuk holds is breathtaking. There is no other ability she desires quite as much. For if she were to contain both of their powers within herself, she would have dominion over a force so great that no living creature - mortal or immortal - could ever hope to defeat. The dead. It is a delicate strategy, but she has the patience for it. And if there was any who would spill the blood of a horseman just to see what happened, then it would surely be Salome.

10. Where there are mortals, there is faith. The relationship between Salome and the faith of the HUNDRED-EYED GOD intrigues me. In her mortal life, faith was an amusement. Its believers has been her playthings - perhaps they are again in this world. ISOLDE is as all prophets are; tempting. I think that Salome could potentially decide to join the faith – or give the impression to do so. Such a deceit would be fun and far from difficult - already she joins in on their rituals, her feet unable to stay away from any form of rhythmic movement, even ones more gentle than her usual tastes. A demon of relative influence, perhaps her faith would be welcomed amongst those most holy, perceived as a positive development in the faith’s recruitment. Perhaps she finds a currently unknown fellowship in the form of ESTIENNE, whose manipulation of the shadows surely speaks of some rot in his heart.

And all for one simple reason. Where there is faith, there are the faithful. Where there is the faithful, there is the potential for bloodshed so rich - so intoxicating - that she would play this long, patient game just to taste a singular drop. She has never been able to recreate the electrification of that first diabolical deed, when she claimed a saint’s head as her prize. She had danced and damned and thirsted ever since; the blood of an ALL-SEEING PRIESTESS might just quench such a need.

• (potential) DOWNFALLS •

Ah, but all of the above are just potential ideas. It is just as likely that Salome would be subject to some downfalls and some .. rude awakenings. I adore the fact that both MICHAEL and RYUK have such different perceptions of their connections. They are both far smarter than she gives credit. Michael is, ultimately, more powerful than Salome on more ways than one - they will surely outplay her as they have everyone, though she might be of some use to them too. In Ryuk, Salome has started a war she might live to regret - one she hasn’t even realised she’s fighting. She has perhaps been a little naive here, and it will be quite something when she realises.

There are other possible connections that could prove Salome’s downfall – or at least a be a hindrance. In my mind, it is GABRIEL, ZADKIEL and CAPHRIEL that she is most weary of. They each have a light to them that she does not care for, along with the arrogance present in all angels. I say in the following section that Salome has no fears; they represent the closest thing she has to possible concerns. I don’t think she yet knows any of them particularly well outside of the War, but she has thought of their powers. The latter two in particular harbour gifts that could, potentially, expose Salome, and thus she has developed a specific distaste for them. And of course, she probably finds them particularly fun to antagonise.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | [TW: Implied suicide in section I ]

I think a large part of my attraction to Salome is that she isn’t really driven by an external force. Partly she is driven by the deep appetite within her (which I’ve mentioned more in other parts of this application) but I also think her motivations stem from her own intrinsic nature; she is pushed by her own heart towards ambitions that are mere extensions of her character. I think there are three central aspects of her character that best explain her motivations and actions: a complete lack of fear, an overwhelming self-adoration and a deep, petulant intolerance of monotony. Together, they’ve created a woman - a demon - amply motivated to do any of the above listed plot ideas.. One who simply does as she wants for no reason other than want itself. Below I’ve given three early examples (set in BP) of these traits taking root (and rot):

I • For what use is fear to those who are damned?

It was said that Jesus’ tomb lay empty. Through the wind Salome heard whispers of women who’d gone to mourn and found nothing - only stone and airwhere a pierced and bloodied body should have lain. It seemed the proclaimed child of God had evaded corporeal death yet again; that the words of the old, tiresome preacher whose head she once cradled had proved true. Their claims and their preachings were not false as her father had accused - but really, had not Salome always known that? Was it not she who had delivered John’s salvation, cast him up to his venerated Heaven? And as it happened - as both the head and the soul of John his body - had not she felt her own moment of pure, divine bliss?

It brought clarity; there was no hesitation in her now. She stood alone, looking out upon the depths of the Galilee Sea with an unconfined grin spread wide upon her face. She had known, always known, that the boredom of this life was only temporary. The adoration she received on earth had grown dull, she sought new, greater opportunities for her talents. There had existed a deep craving inside for as long as she could remember, one that had become increasingly difficult to satiate. It told her that her destiny lay outside of Heaven, that both the prophet and her father the king had been right to look upon her with fear. For if John and Jesus had ascended upwards, could she not leap down into her own descent? The idea of it felt so simple, so natural, so potentially powerful. Neither death nor the the promise of damnation brought her anything but intrigue. She thought of the wicked and the cruel, of the infernal depths to which she was bound, and felt only satisfied.

Mortal though she was, Salome was not afraid. Why should she fear her own destiny? Why should she fear for those she left behind? Fear had no place in a heart without hope. With a simple step, she threw herself into the icy water and waited to reach the blackest depths below.

II • For what use is love to those who are satisfied?

Where there was Salome there was laughter - her own, that was - sharp, loud and melodic. When she first opened her mouth it had sliced through Hell and turned all of its eyes onto her. Rightly so, for she she had laughed as she’d evaded Abaddon’s grasp, clawing herself out of the Abyss of mortal souls and claiming a rightful place in the depths of Hell. The Morningstar, sat above all, had not yet even spoken when Salome had started to dance.

She could feel Hell’s eyes on her, and what better way to greet such attentions than with that she did best. She had reaped rich rewards for it before, and she would do so again. A fleeting glance at her naked body showed her this realm had not dulled her beauty but made magnified it, her skin aglow with the fiery light of hellfire. And so Salome danced, feverishly but deliberately, losing herself in the spirit of the moment. What could anyone do but simply bask in the splendor of her new existence? As she raised her arms above her head, a pair of wings cut through her flesh and slowly tore out of her. Iridescent, they unfurled as if they too had felt the call of her movement.

A feast of celebration had followed. Salome could only laugh in delight as she looked upon demonic faces of adoration, gazes more alike than different to those she had received on earth. Seated at the left-hand of Lucifer himself, she had slotted into the natural order of Hell as if it had been her descent that had been prophesied on earth. How many in Hell, with all its angelic origins, had the blood of a true holy man on their hands? Perhaps just herself – and, she supposed, the man sat to the right of the Prince. Judas Iscariot. The Great Betrayer. A man she had known of in her mortality, a follower who’d wrought a downfall more entertaining than any Salome had otherwise witnessed. He looked on at her with a hard glint in his eyes and she merely smiled back - for Salome understood why. Here she was, a fellow mortal in Hell with infernal wings protruding from her back where Judas had none. It all made such perfect sense; Salome was truly different. Truly transcendent. Made and marked by forces darker then most of Hell could stand. In that moment (and all moments thereafter), Salome was acutely aware of the true power that resided within her, spilling out through her beauty, allure and wretched talents. Why, she was utterly glorious.

III • For what use is peace to those who are bored?

Eternity stretched out in front of her; memories of the wouldn’t fade. Of all the differences between immortal and mortal existence, it was only the nature of time that had ever frustrated her. To Salome, the centuries had passed by in both unfathomable speed and agonising monotony, the linearity of earth dead and gone. It seemed that in the face of an infinite future, even Hell could drag. It operated in a stasis that had begun to suffocate her and, gradually, had awakened once again an appetite that had only been temporally satiated. Lucifer dictated balance and moderation where Salome saw no reason for restraint. He had given her duties like none earth had ever dared, and she didn’t care to fulfil them. She had even grown tired of her puppetry, tired of dancing amongst such frustratingly passive bodies. There was, in a place of corruption, nobody left to actually corrupt; no opportunity to taste innocent or holy blood.

Over time she came to sense the quiet seeds of unrest in Hell, and she was gladdened by them. Once again a wicked smile graced her face, once again she twirled around the pits of Hell in anticipation. There was no better cure for boredom than chaos, and once she’d caught the scent of it her hunt could not be stopped. It had proven easy to have the whispers diverted and delivered to her ears - so many were under her spell, either terrified or infatuated. So Salome came to learn of plans of razing Hell against its master, ripping through worldly divides and claiming the earth she once lived on. At last - she could have wept from delight. And most entertaining of all, Salome had snatched the dice into her her hands.

How easy it would be to join the dissenters, to war with them against the order of Hell that had shackled her. How tempting it was, to dash their plans by raising her own blade to the Morningstar and plunging the world into carnage without warning. How fun, the thought of taking all she knew to Lucifer and laughing as he rained down revenge on the demons he had been foolish enough to trust. Impatient with monotony; patient in the face of action. Salome did not yet know what she would do, and she found utter delight in the potential of it all.

PARA SAMPLE

The Holy Land was not suited to revelry. It lacked the vitalityand decadent excessthat a true celebration required. And really, wasn’t this her domain? Nobody got more unadulterated pleasure from a celebration than Salome - she doubted that even the festivities of the Stygian Moon would be of renown without her inputs. This particular affair was proving even more tiresome than she’d foreseen. Every year she stands under the Triune Moon and watches as solemn vows are sworn; every year she wonders why they could not just be done so in private, sparing them all this tedium. She had said as much to Damien before as they had departed the comforts of the Black Palace, and had received little more than a scowl in response. But she knows her point has more merit than they’d care to admit. How long before these promises of harmony are exposed as a farce? At least that year promises some true entertainment.

Salome thinks all this as she watches the stage in front of her, eyes lazily switching between the three figures who stand upon it. The Sun, the Moon, the Stars; every pair of eyes in the sweeping crowd are trained on them. Salome can feel them. Or rather, she can’t feel the usual warmth of infatuated gazes on her own skin. Here she stood amongst hoards of mortals and beings more lowly than herself, and none were paying her their usual bouts of attention. The only thing that prevented a quiet tantrum was the knowledge that she was far from alone in feeling this agitation. Her stare flickered from the stage towards the figures of both Michael and Judas, and she could not help but smile. To eyes that had repeatedly examined them over centuries, the rigidity of their bodies betrayed them. She was far from the only one who felt the absence of centrality, and that, at least, brought her some pleasure.

Still, she only has so much patience for ceremonies not directed at her. Yet no sooner did she shift to exit the crowd than did words delivered on the stage give her pause. Azazel’s voice, suitably haughty, repeating the typical sentiments of the Holy Land. This was the ‘Age of Peace’, Salome hears her say. Only the ‘cooperation of all factions and the formation of the tridium’ had rendered them ‘triumphant against the heretics who would cast all into darkness.’ This time she cannot hold in the delicate laugh that ripples through her. If only the annual repetition of such statements made them true. If only they knew of the true origins of the War that brought this so-called peace, of where the credit should rightfully lie. Though she knows it would be foolish - more than foolish - Salome can think of nothing but how simple it would be to stand above all and confess. She’d let them savour the details of her sins and her glories. She would laugh as they wilted under the weight of her revelations.

‘I’ve never seen you look so engrossed off of the battlefield.’

Her imaginings are cut off by quiet words from behind her. She needs not turn to identify the voice of Ephemera, familiar as it has come to be. Salome had, of course, seen her across the crowd - when did her eyes start to automatically seek her out so? - but marked her presence as an occupation for later. That Ephemera sought her out first is not necessarily unexpected, but certainly thrilling. There is no other presence that can so easily bring Salome out of a petulant mood, just as there is no other who can so easily put her in one. But she has found that where there is Ephemera, there is entertainment to be had.

“You have not seen me do many things,” she replies easily, as if they had long been having this conversation, “though I do believe I’ve offered.” And she has, more than once, tried to entice her with offers of dancing and hunting and enjoying all the vices of the world they fought for. She turns her head slowly to meet the watchful gaze of her once fighting-partner, a smirk on her lips as she widens her eyes in faux-innocence. They are two alike; mortals once but mortals no more, the first of their kinds. She knows Ephemera will not rise to her bait within the presence of other Angels, which only heightens her simpering expression. Salome has no such qualms about the thoughts of her own kin; their talk excites her, their gossip only confirms how many pay her heed. She has found no simpler joy than that of walking into the Black Palace and leaving excited whispers in her wake.

“I’m sure you’ll agree that celebrating won wars is less fun than waging them’, she continues, amusement ringing clear through her voice as she returned her gage purposefully to the stage. “I asked Azazel if she might add some zeal - perhapsmake those hounds do some tricks - but she seems to have ignored my good wishes”. Salome can feel the rolling of Angelic eyes next to her without even looking. It was so easy, so predictable, and yet anything but boring. That was the real curiosity of Ephemera, so easy to reel in and yet so resistant to truly jumping off the edge. She seemed halfway caught between accepting Salome’s allure and running from it, and the resistance only increased her desire. “Though your one is the more dull, I believe. So earnest - it’s quite exhausting.”

It is clear that Ephemera is acting advisor and strategist rather than - what? Friend? Enemy? Something in between? - whichraised the question as to why she had approached her in the first place. She thinks to ask, but when she opens her mouth to do so the crowd erupts in an applause more loud than she thinks the show was worthy of. Still, she brings her own hands together for the sheer relief that it is finally over. Her feet ache from standing bored for so long, her wings want to stretch open and wide. She wonders if a large enough quantity of alcohol might loosen Ephemera a little, but when she turns to declare this she finds that her companion has disappeared in the movement of so many people. A pity, but no real matter. She has never needed the company of others to create her own sport.

EXTRAS

[ My (WIP) pinterest for Salome can be found here. ]

Salome keeps no animal companion, for she has never felt much love for the nature of the earth. She finds it amusing that some Angels and Demons belittle themselves by keeping one. However, it is not an uncommon sight to see Salome walking with crows flying above her. Only on closer inspection would one realise those animals are but corpses, a puppetry Salome (alone) finds humorous.

Like all parts of herself, she harbours great love for her wings, and not only for the damnation that they represent. They are formed of what resembles a netting of fine, golden spider’s web. They seem to constantly change in the light, appearing to be more transparent than they are solid. Regal and beautiful, they are as Salome sees herself.

She is a fierce fighter and a connoisseur of bloodshed. Her weapon of choice is a trailing point blade, forged on the day of her arrival in Hell. She uses it exclusively for more.. intimate situations, and favours instead a simple longsword on the battlefield. She is however, proficient with most weaponry, as the corpses she can make fight use the same weapons they died wielding against her.

Though Infernum is the home she helped carve out, Salome spends a great deal of time in Sanctus Terra and travels to Caelum whenever the opportunity presents itself. Both locations amplify an itch deep within her soul, worsening her desire and thereby bringing greater satisfaction when she finally acts on the urge. She has not spilled any angelic blood in Caelum, though the temptation is strong, for she knows Michael has become astute to her presence. She has left a fair few victims in Sanctus Terra, a pursuit which has become less satisfying overtime. Still, Salome is careful. For all their talk of kinship, she is not sure that her fellow demons would refrain from locking her in the Black Cells if they had just cause.

[ aaaaaaand I leave you with the last verse of ‘Salome’, a poem by Mary Lamb. I honestly can’t describe it as anything over then *chef’s kiss*. I don’t know if Rosey read this when she was writing Salome’s bio, but I thought the writing style and tone and vibe and all beautifully mirrored each other?? Stunning. On that note, regardless of whether of not you think I’m right for Salome, thank you for the obvious amount of time/thought you’ve all put into this because it’s been really (really) fun to explore. ]

When painters would by art express Beauty in unloveliness, Thee, Herodias’ daughter, thee, They fittest subject take to be. They give thy form and features grace; But ever in they beauteous face They shew a steadfast cruel gaze, An eye unpitying; and amaze In all beholders deep they mark, That thou betrayest not one spark Of feeling for the ruthless deed, That did thy praiseful dance succeed. For on the head they make you look, As if a sullen joy you took, A cruel triumph, wicked pride, That for your sport a saint had died.

#accepted #accepted: salome

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metamorphmagically · 5 years ago

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lil update

Life has been crazy the past few weeks. Many ups, a lot of downs, much talking, many eye-opening moments and so on.

I'm starting my freshmen year at college on September 10th, that's a little month from now. Life is gonna be even crazier and busier then. I haven't done collabs or onlines or any other form of content because of- what I mentioned up in the first bit- has just rendered me tired, both physically and mentally.

My last real content was some time ago and- aside from the Disney Week I'll still be part taking into- I probably won't be very active rp wise until somewhere around fall break. Maybe a shitpost or a hijack here and there, but thats it.

My own blog will still remain active (for as far as possible) so I'll still be reblogging and commenting and such, doing some ask games here and there. My dm's will remain active too! (You really thought you would get rid of me that easily, huh?)

Hope this makes sense hahaha, thanks for sticking with me. X

-J

#psa #update #important

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wolfpawn · 5 years ago

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Life is a Game of Risks, Chapter 27

Chapter Summary - Tom, Alexianna and Lily go to Suffolk for a weekend with the Hiddleston clan, leading to conversations among family members of the similarities of Lily and Tom and his place in her life, and her in his.

TRIGGERS - Past domestic abuse, Past emotional abuse, Past sexual abuse.

Previous Chapter

Tags: @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @theoneanna

Request if you wish to be tagged

Alexianna was unsure how she made it all the way to Suffolk in the car, but she succeeded. Lily got bored en route and fell asleep while Tom gave her the rundown of Sarah and Yakov, interests and jobs and other such things to help her feel as though she was not a complete stranger with his older sister and her husband. When they arrived at the house, Alexianna smiled. ‘This is your mum, this is so your mum.’ She beamed as she got out of the car and walked around to get Lily out of the backseat. ‘Come on Lazybones.’

She had woken Lily ten minutes out so that the child would not be cranky as they went into the house, hoping not to give a bad first impression. Lily looked up at the house in awe. ‘It’s so pretty, is this a hotel?’

‘No Princess, it is not a hotel. This is my mum’s house.’ Tom grinned.

In the few weeks it had been since he mentioned the trip to her, Tom had a few bits and pieces he had to do for work, but she was busier, Alexianna was juggling work and study and still managing to be a mother too, Tom watched in awe as she did it all. He had not been able to convince her to move house yet, but with her schedule, he failed to see how she could even consider it. If anything, he insisted she join him in Suffolk to get herself some R&R. In that time also, Lily went from “Darling” to “Princess” as per her own request, not liking that Tom used the word on others.

‘Nan is here!’ she squealed with joy almost elbowing Alexianna in the face as she tried to get out of the seat. Tom took their luggage as Lily dragged her ever battered two rabbit teddies and rushed to the door, Alexianna closing the car door before helping Tom with the bags.

It was Emma who opened the door, beaming brightly at Lily. ‘Hello, Princess Lily.’ She bent down and cuddled Lily who adored the attention. ‘We have someone who is dying to meet you.’

Lily showed no fear as she walked into the house with Emma and looked around. ‘It’s so pretty.’ She looked at the art and pictures that Diana had up before giggling. ‘Is that Tom?’

Emma looked and laughed. ‘Yep, he was about your age then.’

Lily giggled more. ‘Do not tell me Mum has that picture up on the wall again?’ Tom groaned as they came in.

‘But small smiley Tom is fun.’ Alexianna laughed, ‘You looked so adorable...what happened?’ Emma snorted in laughter.

‘Aren’t you funny?’ Tom stated bemusedly.

‘I like to think I am.’ She smiled, causing him to grin back at her.

‘Come on, everyone else is in the kitchen.’ Emma smiled as they made their way in. Just as they came out of the living room, there was a dart of something back into the kitchen, something smaller, child-sized. ‘Sophie.’ Her aunt warned as they came to the door.

‘You are taking forever.’ Came another voice from inside before they entered and were met by everyone.

Immediately Lily noticed Diana and rushed over to her, the older woman smiling as she hugged her. ‘Hello, Sweetheart.’

‘I missed you, your house is pretty.’

‘Thank you, love.’ They noticed another person standing next to them. ‘Lily, this is my granddaughter Sophie, Sophie, I told you about Lily.’

‘My adopted cousin.’ Sophie beamed. ‘Do you like Shimmer and Shine?’

Lily’s face lit up and she started singing the theme, which Sophie joined in with and dragged her from the room to her toys.

‘We are not going to have a moment’s peace for the weekend.’ Emma laughed, she noted the peculiar look on Sarah’s face before giving her a confused one.

Sarah just smiled when she realised her sister was looking at her. ‘Hello, little brother.’ She jested.

‘I am six inches taller than you and only eighteen months younger, you were still in nappies for goodness sake.’

‘But I am still older.’ Sarah teased as she hugged him before looking to a slightly sheepish looking Alexianna. ‘Hello, I have not seen you in years, how do you look almost the same, what are you using?’ she gave her a hug too.

Alexianna felt somewhat startled by it, ‘Em, water?’

‘Very funny, wise ass.’ Emma scoffed. ‘You know Jack.’ She indicated to her husband, who she had introduced to Alexianna one afternoon when they met for coffee. ‘And this is Sarah’s husband Yakov.’

‘Hello.’ Alexianna waved nervously.

‘Now that we are all here, let’s get dinner on.’ Diana smiled as she went to the stove. ‘Sarah, you set the table, Emma dear, make sure the meat is glazed properly, and boys, out, how are we supposed to get anything done with you all in the way. Alex darling, could you help me with the potatoes.’

With the men shooed from the room, Jack and Tom getting wood and coal in for the fire and Yakov making sure the two girls were safe, they got to work on the food.

‘Hey?’ Emma turned to see Sarah looking at her as she went to get a cushion for Sophie and Lily to sit on at the table. ‘Can I ask you something weird?’

‘’What?’ Emma remembered the way her sister had looked at Lily earlier.

‘Do you think Alexianna’s daughter…’

‘Looks exactly like Tom?’

‘So it’s not just me.’

‘No, the first time I saw her I thought it too.’

‘She’s not his, though….is she?’

‘No, they haven’t seen each other in years.’

‘What does her ex look like?’

‘You think after everything, she has photos she shows people or that I would ask?’ Emma scoffed. ‘Why?’

‘Well, part of my degree, I did Psychology, you know that, and part of it as transference, if Lily looks like her father, and her father looks like Tom…’

‘Look, I am not going to think about it.’ Emma stated, ‘Tom seems happy and Alexianna is really starting to act like the girl I was friends with in school.’

‘But…’

‘No buts Sarah, she’s divorced from this Jonathan guy, he is nothing to do with her and she is happy with Tom, that’s all we could want surely?’

‘I just find it weird, I mean if she and Tom ever have kids, they honestly could not look more like Tom.’

‘It’s weird, but Lily looks like who she looks like and that isn’t going to change.’ Emma shrugged as she got the cushions and walked out again. The pair went downstairs to see Jack and Tom had finished getting the fire sorted and for Tom to be between the two girls on the floor being educated in the world of Shimmer and Shine. ‘Poor Tom.’

‘Where’s Yakov?’ Sarah laughed on seeing her brother looking confused between the girls.

‘Fled for a minute to get a tea while he still had his sanity.’ Tom joked. ‘I am being told about...these things.’ He pointed to the toys.

‘Toys can be frazzling, can’t they?’

‘Was there this many when we were kids, I genuinely don’t think there was?’ He looked around at the different things.

‘I think they came all in the one pack and not all sold separately.’ Sarah stated.

‘Parenting joys.’ Tom commented.

‘Yeah, mock me.’

Tom’s brows furrowed, ‘I don’t do anything on that front.’

‘You don’t help with….?’

‘I am under strict instruction not to go buying toys all the time and I have kept to it.’ Tom stated factually. ‘Lexi made it clear, Christmas and Birthday and birthday is not until July.’

‘Do you help with anything else?’

‘Financially, absolutely not, Lexi is crystal clear, her daughter, her responsibility.’ Tom informed her. ‘She doesn’t want anyone, myself included, to think she wants someone to raise her daughter for her.’

‘But you are involved in other ways, aren’t you?’

‘I spend time with her, I read with her, yes.’ Tom explained. ‘I am the chief story reader now.’ He declared proudly.

‘Right.’ Sarah sighed, relieved her brother was not half ignoring Lily. ‘And down the road?’

‘We are not worrying about too far ahead, we don’t want to pressure ourselves.’ Tom informed her. ‘Lil’s, princess, you cannot use my knee as a mountain, it is too old and rickety.’ He smiled as she tried and failed to get a monkey character to stay on his knee.

Lily giggled in return. ‘Silly Tom.’

Sarah watched how Tom reacted with Lily, she had seen him before with Sophie, it was so natural and caring, Tom adored his niece, but with Lily, he noticed he kept just a step back, as though not allowing himself invest fully. When he realised she was looking at him again, he smiled, but she did not return the gesture, causing frown lines to knit on his forehead. Before any more could be said, the “five minutes til food” call was given. ‘Tidy up.’ Sarah ordered, surprised that Sophie did not make a show in front of Lily, as well as Lily helping immediately without being asked. ‘Thank you, Sweetheart.’ She smiled. Lily beamed back at her. ‘I bet you help your mum a lot.’

‘Mum says I should always tidy my things because they could get lost or broken, and I don’t want my Paw Patrol to get losted.’ She shook her head.

Sarah smiled at the use of the incorrect word. ‘No, that would not be nice. Come on, your mum will want you to go inside to the kitchen.’ Lily rushed off, holding Sophie’s hand, Sarah watching them.

‘What was that look for?’ Tom asked, closing over the door.

‘Why are you standoffish with her, she adores you?’ Sarah queried.

‘She is not my daughter.’

‘That we were told.’

‘I...I don’t want her getting…’ Tom inhaled deeply. ‘If this goes wrong, if Lexi and I cannot make this work, she will be the one left upset.’

‘Her, or you?’ He did not answer. ‘You have two choices Tom; accept this fully or pull back, it is not healthy for Lily to think otherwise. What if, in say five years, you are still with Alex and you have a baby with her, will you give that child everything and continue to make only half an effort with Lily, or change how you treat Lily, who would be old enough to realise there is a difference, what is the long-term plan, or is it that there is none, that you have a foot halfway out the door already?’

‘No...I…’ Tom said nothing for another moment. ‘I don’t want this to crash and burn and to have dedicated all this time and effort into Lexi and Lily and be left with nothing.’

‘What nothing?’

‘Lily is not mine, so if Lexi and I part ways, I do not have the right to see her again,’ Tom explained, his voice tight. ‘I…’

‘You holding back isn’t going to help.’

‘Lexi is keeping it very formal, not letting me get too close, she has set rules, she’s mad for rules these days.’

‘Alexianna was always a stickler for rules, that’s not new. What sort of rules?’

‘Don’t get her stuff, don’t pay attention to tantrums, don’t...why are you looking at me like that?’

‘You do realise this is Alexianna involving you in a parenting aspect, right?’

‘What?’

‘She is setting boundaries so Lily does not see you as her personal ATM and is helping you be established as a figure of authority and importance in her life. She is making sure you are in the same role as her, her mum, this is the exact opposite of keeping you back, she allows you do storytime, she is making sure you are not just some part-time fun adult, you are misconstruing her solidifying you as a person Lily should see as an important adult in her life as her being boring and distant.’ Tom stared at her blankly. ‘She seems to really want this Tom, you can see she is terrified here, but she came, because I would imagine, you made this seem like a big deal to you.’

Tom’s face became one of realisation. ‘I think you are so busy looking for something to be wrong, you are failing to see what is going right. Swift caused you to be suspicious, you gave yourself to that and she took it and toyed with you for her personal amusement and now you think Alex’s attempts to start you off on the right foot in Lily’s life is her being cold and cruel, it’s sad really, the cruel one made you sceptical of any further nice ones.’ She patted her brother’s shoulder. ‘Alex is a good fit for you, if you are both willing to put in the effort.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Your job is hard at the best of times, how many families separate when an actor is in their prime, look at Chris Pratt, even in a recent interview, Hemsworth said it put an incredible strain on his marriage, especially after the kids, and didn’t you say Cumberbatch is cutting a lot of work away from home?’ Tom nodded. ‘If you put in the effort and Alexianna is understanding enough to realise you will be away from time to time, you could make it and be really happy, I think anyway. Seeing her in the kitchen with mum, seeing Lily and how she is raising Lily, I think she is nice and normal and someone you should endeavour to be with.’ Sarah admitted. ‘I have to say though, Lily looks so much like you it is scary.’ Tom frowned. ‘Look at that photo and tell me that little girl does not look like you.’ She pointed to a particular photo in their mother’s living room, which Tom had to concede, made him and Lily seem more similar than most could argue.

‘If you look at that picture, you’re right, yeah.’

‘You sure you didn’t sleep with Alexianna five years ago?’ Sarah was only half-joking.

‘I am pretty sure, yes.’

‘Said I’d ask.’

‘Are you two ever coming to dinner?’ Yakov queried from the living room door, ‘Everyone else is at the table.’

‘Sorry, just chatting.’ Sarah grinned walking forward.

The afternoon went well, Sophie and Lily acted as though they had been raised together rather than having just met and as a result begged and pleaded to stay in the same room that night. The adults acted as though it had not already been discussed seeing as they needed to try and figure out how to facilitate everyone and said fine, knowing both girls would probably stay up late, but with Tom acting as storyteller, and two stories instead of one, they went to bed at an intermediate time between their usual bedtimes and were asleep by nine-thirty while the adults spoke more in the living room.

‘Are you alright?’

Alexianna turned to see Tom behind her as she washed the cup she had been using and smiled. ‘Yes, why?’

‘Just wanted to ask, I don’t want you overwhelmed.’ He wrapped his arms around her.

‘I’m fine, tired, but okay.’

‘We’ll go to bed soon.’ Her face gave away the emotions he knew she had been hiding. ‘Sarah and Yakov are in bed together, so are Emma and Jack so us being in bed together isn’t an issue.’

‘They’re married.’

‘We have spent how many nights together in bed and you never worried?’

‘Not in your mother’s though.’ He gave a small brow raise. ‘No funny stuff.’

‘I cannot promise that.’ He smiled, she gave a warning glare. 'Everyone adores you, you know?’

‘I missed your family, they are so incredible.’

‘They adore Lily too.’

‘How could you not, she’s amazing.’ Alexianna smiled proudly.

‘With you for a mum, how wouldn’t she be?’ He inhaled deeply. ‘Lexi, can I ask you something?’ She looked at him concerned. ‘Do you see me as someone of authority in Lily’s life?’ She looked at him nervously. ‘Be honest, please.’

‘I...I want you to be, but I understand if that is too much for you.’

‘But what if we part ways? Will that not confuse her?’

‘What if we don’t?’ She challenged. ‘If you don’t want to Tom, I understand, but if you want this to work, I think you need to be somewhat like that for her. You’re not her father, I know that is a wedge you cannot ignore in some ways, but with Jonathan not being involved…’

‘At least there’s that.’ He acknowledged. ‘I’m scared in some ways, but...I want this.’ He stated clearly.

#Life is a Game of Risks #chapter 27 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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miss-choco-chips · 6 years ago

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Miraculous Ladybug Au part 1

For @iphoenixrising who I think might like the idea. Thanks for always giving me confidence hon. I hope this cheers you up a lil bit.

Where Dick is guilty for wanting what he wants, Jason is confused about who he wants, and Tim just wants to sleep.

<<-Hey, Tim, check this out! You missed big time! That’ll show you not to go on vacation without me to keep you in touch with the real, exciting world.

-Uh?

-Someone on Instagram just posted a twenty seconds clip of Robin doing something.

-People are always posting about the bats. How is this news, Steph?

-Shh, I’m getting there. Look at this. This Robin is waaay too short. It’s not the one we’ve had for the last three years.

-... and? There were two different Robins before him, maybe he just outgrew it or something.

-But, where is he? The others came back, with new names and powers, they… they didn’t left us.

-Maybe it’s just taking him some time, to decide who is he going to be now.

-...Yeah, maybe. He saved me and my daughter once, you know. Took one hell of a blow for us. Wherever he is, I hope he’s doing okay, and gets himself on track quickly. The city needs him.

-I’m sure he’ll appreciate the sentiment. And… I hope that, too.>>

Now...

He tumbled through the open window, face planting into his bed, the transformation letting up even before his forehead was properly buried in the pillow. His muscles practically melting against his Nightwing comforter (birthday present from Dick, oh the irony), the scent of smoke still clinging to it from the last time the boys dropped in for a impromptu visit (nearly scaring the bejesus out of him when he heard their voices and footsteps climbing up the stairs to his bedroom while he still was in the suit, holy fuck-!).

He wanted to sleep so badly. But he had maybe (it was around five a.m, right?) two hours until he needed to leave for work, and if he took a nap now, he might not be able to wake up on time.

-Are you alright, Timmy?

Gathering whatever leftover strength he had in him, he turned his head to the side, his almost closed eyes finding the worried ones of his kwami.

-Yeah. Only tired.

-I’d bet -the little bird-like creature huffed, his tiny black and red chest puffing like an offended peacock-. You are running yourself too ragged.

-Well, lots of things to do. Work stuff, Red Robin stuff, Tim Drake stuff... Not to mention, college.

-Speaking of… -trailed off the kwami, his big blue eyes signaling towards the desk, where his Advanced Economic’s paper awaited for attention.

Tim followed Rouge’s line of sight and promptly groaned when he got the hint, dropping his head once again in the mattress.

-Fuuuuuck. When was that due for?

-Tomorrow. And you’re supposed to met up with Jason today, and dinner with Dick after that. If you cancel on any of them again...

-...Well, it’s not like I actually expected to get any sleep today.

-Two all nighters in a row?

-It’s like you read my mind.

----.----.----

Then...

He met Richard at the circus, when he was four, but since the other boy didn’t remember (his parent’s death probably overwrote anything else in his memory of that night), their official meeting happened two months later, when Dick was formally introduced to high society as Bruce Wayne’s ward.

-Mister Wayne -his father shook Bruce's hand, fake smile firmly in place- and this must be young Richard. Hi, champ, I'm Jack Drake, and this is my lovely Janet.

Behind his mother, Tim couldn't repress a giggle. Champ, dad? Really?

-Good evening, gentleman -his mother, the perfect picture of a lady, smiled delicately behind her gloved hand. It didn't reach her glacial blue irises, but it was enough to fool most businessmen in lowering their defenses.

Tim himself had eyes only for the boy clutching the taciturn billionaire's sleeve. He wondered how was he feeling, if he had tried to fly at all since his parents deaths. He hoped so.

Dick had looked so happy while flying.

—I'm Tim —he butted in, when it was obvious his father intended to speak business and leave the introductions behind them— A pleshure.

He winced internally when the last word was mispronounced, and externally when his mother's nails sank into his shoulder in consequence.

-You'll have to forgive him, he's a baby still -laughed his mother, her hand letting him go and reaching for his father’s elbow-. Go explore, Tim. Your dad has people he needs to talk to, all boring stuff. I’m sure it’s the same with Mister Wayne.

Said man seemed to agree, though how Tim knew, he couldn’t tell, as the man’s expression barely changed.

Dick, on the other side, seemed absolutely crestfallen.

And he knows, he knows he's going to get into trouble for this the moment they are home, but the expression in the boy’s face is just… He wants to wipe it clean, like his nanny does for him when he gets tomato sauce on his cheek.

(It's so different from how he looked that night, soaring the skies besides his parents. Had been so… free)

«Was it then, when he started to put Dick's happiness before his own?»

—Mister Wayne -he finally gathered enough courage to talk, going as far as to interrumput his father’s speech about current politics- can Richard come play with me? Please? We’ll behave.

Dick's small, thankful smile was enough to warrant Bruce's permission, and seal Tim's destiny away.

----.----.----

Now...

-Tiiiiiiimmmyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!

He regrets picking up without double checking the caller id. So strongly.

In defense of his sleep deprived brain, it was an unknown number. So either Dick had a new phone, was burrowing someone’s for any reason, or he had caught on on Tim’s attempt at taking distance, decided to try and catch him when he knew he had his defenses low (before eight a.m) and bought a burner to accomplish it.

-It’s six in the morning. You better have a damn good reason to be calling me so… chirpily, at this ungodly hour. You don’t even have to work till nine, why are you awake?

Because Nightwing, along with Red Robin, had been fighting an akumatized nurse not two hours ago. But, since Dick didn’t know Tim knew, his obvious response at such a close corner was to deflect with a practiced, not awkward-totally-but-still-noticeably laugh.

-Come on, honey, where’s my happy Timmers? Who spat in your cereal?

Rouge passed by his bathroom mirror, where Tim was inspecting his reflection in search of his will to live, and like the god-like tiny thing he was, he rubbed comfortingly against his partner’s cheek, as if lending him strength.

Tim sighed and put the phone in speaker, dropping it on the marble countertop. He wasn’t getting out of this conversation anytime soon, so might as well continue with his morning routine.

Tam once compared it to watching a snake changing skins. From the tired, more-than- slightly-murderous teen, to the wow-lookit-a-respectable-young-man.

-First, you ever call me that again, I’ll rearrange your face a la Picasso. Second, no one uses that expression. And lastly, only you eat that crap anyway.

-That’s a lie, I know for a fact you have at least two different brands in your kitchen, even though one is an insult to the cereal industry. Fiber, blegh.

-Because one is for you when you visit, and the other I bought on an impulse of spite to punish you for… I don’t remember now, but I’m sure it was horrible and deserving of drastic measures.

He could hear Dick’s laugh over the line. Once upon a time, the sound would make Tim’s mood lighten, like an echo of the other.

Now it hurt a little.

-You’re spending too much time with Jason and not nearly enough with me. You used to be such a sweet, eager to please angel. What happened?

-I asked your dad to let you play with me, and here I am, fourteen, fifteen years later, looking at my life, looking at my choices -and looking for his damn tie, which he swore he left by the toothbrush yesterday, where the fuck… - Asking myself where I went wrong.

-Yeah, now I remember why I never call you this early.

-About that, was there a reason, or you just wanted to take Jason’s place of honour in my hit-list?

Dick choked on a laugh, and Tim took the chance to quickly brush his teeth. His hair was a lost cause and he had learned to ignore it or risk spending too much time in a battle he wouldn't win. Easier to just ask Tam to brush it for him at the office, because that woman was a magician and Tim would fire the whole board of investor from D.I before letting her go.

-Just checking in. We are still on for movie night, right? Because I might just use my power as a law enforcer and arrest you if you cancel on me again.

With one last look at his reflection (making damn sure his concealer hid both the black and blue spot by his jaw and his ever-growing eye bags), he picked up his phone and started for the kitchen. Rouge, bless his little soul, had plugged in the coffee maker, and the smell called to him like light to a moth.

And there was his tie, by the pot. Score.

-Movie night? -he asked, dubiously, glancing at his kwami. Rouge’s brow furrowed and he shook his head- No, we were going out for dinner. I’m sure.

-It’s Tuesday. Tuesdays were always movie night days. I thought it was implied, Timmy, for God’s sake.

Tuesday were movie night days back when they were five and eleven respectively, even before Jason was adopted, up until Dick started getting busier and calling it quits more often than not. It had been a while since they followed the tradition.

-Uhm, no, sorry. I have a paper due tomorrow, and was going to work on it after dinner with you. Can’t stay the night at your place. Rain check?

-...Yeah. Okay, sure. But you aren’t getting out of dinner.

He could hear Dick’s disappointment over the line. Once upon a time, the sound would ruin Tim’s mood, like an echo of the other.

Now, it still hurt a little.

(More than a little. Fuck)

It’d be easier if he could just cut ties with them all as Tim Drake. If he could get up and leave them, betray their trust, their love.

Like Nightwing had done with Red Robin. Or, to be fair, Robin.

----.----.----

Then…

Tim had known of the Akumas since… forever, really. They had been haunting Gotham long before he was born, hurting people, destroying things, breaking everything in their reach apart.

And then, when he was but a baby, the Batman appeared. Mrs Mac, the housekeeper, told him about it once. How, when the city was going through it’s darkest times, a knight of shadows and justice had risen, taking upon himself the responsibility of protecting the city.

Protecting everyone, really.

He, as any gothamite born and raised, had watched in wonder at whatever recordings the News Channels could provide, talked theories with his friends, stayed up at night wondering who the magic hero might be…

Until said magic hero recruited a sidekick, and Tim stayed up at night for totally new reasons.

(He’d recognize those moves, those tricks, but above all else, that laugh, anywhere)

He wanted so badly to knock at Wayne Manor’s doors, hunt down Bruce and fucking scream at him. Akumas were dangerous, whoever sent them was dangerous, fucking Gotham was dangerous, and Dick was his friend. His thirteen year old friend, who had been a hero for years before the lucky camera man had caught him on frame, revealing the mysterious partner to the world. And while Tim was a kid himself, barely seven, he was smarter than tons of adults he knows. Smarter than Bruce, at least, since he, unlike the other, understood the dangers of the night. Of Gotham herself.

He got as far as the inner gym, where Dick was practicing by the trapezius, flying from end of the room to the other, spinning, twisting mid air, laughing when the roof got too close to his face in one of the highest jumps. And then (maybe because he caught sight of Tim watching by the door, maybe he wanted to show off just a little, maybe he wanted to tell him something and this was the only way to properly express it...), a quadruple somersault, the one he performed for Tim that first night -even if he doesn’t remember that-, the one Robin was caught on camera doing, the one that gave him away.

And Tim, caught in his amazement of the boy, unable to take away this if it was what gave him his wings back, could only clap and yell ‘again!’.

----.----.----

Now...

-You look like death warmed over -greeted Tam when he passed by her desk in his way to his office. Like the well trained boy he was, he detoured, dropping in the empty chair by her side she always had ready for him. Within a second, his assistant took a hairbrush from her purse and started to work her magic in his head.

-Didn’t sleep and had to deal with a morning person before seven. You’d look just as bad, thank you very much.

-Dick called?

He huffed. Rouge, in the inner pocket of his jacket, pressed closer to him for the movement. He stilled immediately, knowing the kwami needed all the sleep he could get.

-That obvious?

-You don’t associate with a lot of morning people.

-There’s something inherently wrong with them, if they are happy that early.

-One of your best friends is like that -Tam tutted, working on a specially difficult knot. Tim didn’t dare complain, even when the tug to his scalp made him wince.

-Bart is a special case, he lives in a perpetual state of high. I still believe he takes cocaine and redbull with his breakfast.

She hummed, hairbrush now discarded in favour of her fingers. They passed through his hair without resistance, his bedhead (could it be called that, when he hadn’t actually slept?) all but gone, the movements soothing. There weren’t a lot of things capable to relax him, these days.

-Well, you have an eleven o’clock appointment with a possible investor, but between that and the board meeting at three, you are a free man. I can make sure no one bothers you while you cat nap.

-I’d love to, but Jason will come and drag me out of here kicking and screaming if I miss lunch with him. Or worse, he might find me asleep and princess carry me all the way to the restaurant in plain view of as many cameras as he can as punishment.

Tam shook her head in amusement and fondness, releasing his hair and straightening on her chair, her ‘back to business’ pose- I’ll never understand your relationship with those boys, I swear.

A sigh, roll of shoulders and he was ready to face the day too.

-Neither will I.

-But you’ll miss them, if they leave.

A flash of something passes through his eyes.

----.----.----

Then...

-I miss you. Don’t you miss me?

Dick, sixteen in body but about five in soul pouted at the screen of his computer, trying to convey the ‘mean, little brother!’ expression as perfectly as possible.

Tim snorted through his nose, getting comfortable on the bed; the notebook on his lap, back to the headboard of the too-big matres, pillows everywhere.

-I can use your bed whenever you go away, so I’ll go with a tentative ‘maybe’. ‘sides, you’ve been gone for two months, Dick. The exchange program goes for seven to eight. Give me another one or so, and I’ll be crying for you to come back.

-That’s an ugly lie, but I appreciate the effort -a change of stance, then the voice turned utterly blank- How are things over there?

Tim bites his lip, wondering, but what would he gain hiding it? If Dick already knew, he would expect Tim, as a young kid, to mention it. If he didn’t, he would find out soon enough and wonder why he didn’t tell him.

-You know how for the last few months Robin just… stopped appearing?

-...yeah?

-Well, he came back a few days ago, and either he shrunk, or it’s someone else.

Dick’s expression doesn’t change, so Tim knows he made the right call telling him; he was already aware.

-Oh? Another kid, putting his life in danger? I wonder what those child activists think about it.

-Keep asking for Batman’s head on a platter, like usual. I think it helps that this one isn’t as small as the previous one was when he first appeared, but, you know. Still setting on fire Batman merchandise in the streets.

-The original Robin wasn’t small. You are small.

-Reaaally mature, Dick. Since when are you in Robin’s protection squad?

-Always been my favorite hero.

Self centered, much?

-Hm… And what about the new one?

-...Let’s wait and see if he can fill the shoes.

-Lucky for him, they’re just kid shoes, no clown ones.

A small, real smile steals his way into Dick’s face, and Tim wants to throw a happy fist to the air.

He lives for that smile.

-You are a dork. Anything else new?

Again, uncertainty, but this one was easier to explain if detected. After all, Dick was aware of how uncomfortable was Tim in his new position as the mediator.

-Jason’s adapting. His grades went up and…

-Oh, look at that. Sorry, Timmers, I gotta go. My roommate is texting me that he wants to hang out.

-Oh… okay. Are we… are we face timing for movie night later? right?

-Yeah, yeah, sure -he waved a hand, as if discarding Tim, and he just knew Dick was going to forget about it… again-. Go have fun. Your parents are still traveling, right? Give Bruce a few white hairs while you’re at the Manor for me. I think he might get bored, without me there to spice things and kickstart his nervous system once an hour. The life of a businessman is soooooo dull.

(Except when said business man is practically a magical girl. God, once Stpeh had made that comparison, Tim just couldn’t unsee it)

He tries to laugh, but it’s empty. He won’t push the issue, and Dick won’t talk about it willingly, but they are both aware of the elephant in the room.

-Wouldn't dream of taking your place as the ever-evolving ulcer in his stomach. Take care. Bye.

He closed the computer lid and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. The situation made him uneasy. It was hard, being Dick’s loyal, loving little brother, Bruce’s unproblematic charge (since his parents decided that letting Tim stay with Wayne during their trips was cheaper than the nanny and housekeeper), and Jason’s-

-Hey, Baby Bird, you done talking to the jackass?

He nearly jumped out of his skin, neck almost breaking with how quickly he turned to face the door.

-Jason! -the automatic smile, brought to fore by the mere sight of his friend in workout clothes (he must have been training) melt into a frown when the words sank in- Don’t be a jerk.

-He’s a dick, pun unintended.

-Cut him some slack, it’s the ‘no more single child’ symptom. He’s just jealous to have to share Bruce’s attention.

-Ain’t he a little too old for that?

-I don’t think ��old’ is a word you could ever use to describe Dick. Ever. I mean, he’ll be retired and have like twenty grandchildren, and still give off the ‘young, single and ready to mingle’ vibe.

The laugh is so sudden, so surprising, Jason chokes on his own spit.

-You’re a riot. Why do I like you, again?

-Because if not for me, you’ll be alone in this big, scary house, with only Alfred and Bruce for company.

-Alf’s cool.

-Yeah, but he’ll put you to do chores if he thought you’re bored enough to get up to some mischief.

-Sometimes you talk like an 90’s British book.

-Shut up, Harry Potter is my Bible. Besides, not like you can talk about british literature.

Another laugh, and the last of Jason’s tension faded away like a charm. Tim left the computer on the bedside table and stretched, getting up.

-Come on, let’s go find some way to make your Dad rethink his life choices.

-Fuck French, you speak the language of love.

----.----.----

Now...

It was on his way to that new Barbeque on Cameron Street, northwest from Diamond district, when the ground beneath his feet shifted and he and another fifteen passers-by were caught in what seemed like an asphalt cage.

In the middle of the street. With no corner to hide and transform.

Great.

There wasn’t any villian in sight, so the akumatized person probably had just wanted some back up hostages. Most likely, they weren’t the only ones trapped.

And that in the corner was a street cam. Fuck.

He needs to get out and help catch the bad guy of the day, but can’t exactly break asphalt with his bare hands, and transforming in front of fifteen eyewitnesses and a camera isn’t exactly an option.

So, he takes out his phone.

-What’ll you do? -comes the whisper from within his jacket, and he looks down just enough to look at his kwami without drawing attention at himself.

-Well, at this rate I’m going to be late for lunch. It’d be rude of me if I don’t tell Jay about it -he types quickly while he talks, making sure the annoyed (and it always stuns Conner, his friend from metropolis, how Gothamites consider freaks and monsters running around a minor inconvenience; how used to crazy they are) people around him aren’t paying his actions enough attention-. There. Sent.

-Hope he’s not mad at you.

-He can't be, I didn't postpone anything. Just told him I'll be held up here until Red Hood gets his ass on gear and does his job.

-Should you text Dick as well?

-Nah, that'd be too much of an overkill.

-...

-...How long until he comes guns blazing to the rescue?

-Two, three minutes tops.

It was the basis of his and Jason's relationship, the knowledge that, if in peril, they could always count on the other to come running to either save them or hold their hands while everything went to shit.

----.----.----

Elsewhere…

-Hm… the little shit is taking his time. Think I should go get him?

The kwami popped her head out of the bike helmet Jason had left in the extra chair he requested for the table. She seemed deeply unimpressed.

-okay, okay, I'll give him five more minutes. Then, it's fair game.

A sudden ping called his attention to the cell phone carelessly left above the tablecloth. It was the most obnoxious sound he could think of, and was as such his ringtone for the young man he was actually waiting for. It was a sound he couldn't ignore, or sleep over it.

BabyBird:

^Hey Jay, might be a little late for lunch

-That little…

Another ping.

BabyBird:

^Got held up on my way there, some akuma caged me and other fifteen people. Don’t know how long until one of the masks comes to the rescue

^Lol, some woman doesn't give a DUCK and just keeps fighting with someone over the phone about someone named Jerry

Ping.

BabyBird:

^update; Apparently Jerry is her son and she's fighting her ex.

Another ping, quickly following the former.

BabyBird:

^...I'm going to kill either you or Dick. Who programmed my phone to replace all swear words? You motherHUGGERS.

He was out of the door before the last text actually sank in and, by the time he ducked behind a corner, was already laughing.

-Tireur, arm me up!

----.----.----

Then…

He didn’t care who he pushed or tripped on his way to Jason’s room. He wasn’t hearing their screams and complaints. The sound he heard when turning left on the next corner might have been a paparazzi’s camera, or an IV stand he knocked down in his haste, but, again, it wasn’t important at the moment.

The only thing in his head right now, was the echo of that psychotic laughter, of Batman’s screams, of his own gasp when the news coverage showed footage of Robin, bloodied and hurt, trying to get away from a building about to blow up… and failing.

The full blown panic attack that followed made him hyperventilate so bad he actually lost consciousness, only to wake up to the sound of his phone going off and Alfred’s voice on the line telling him how Master Jason, along some other victims, had been caught in the same explosion the Joker, the clown that got akumatized every other week, caused. The same that took Robin out.

He refrained from yelling at Alfred to not lie to him, he already knows who Robin is and who he was before. He knows everything, so don't lie to him, not about something as serious as this…! But only because it was Alfred, and no one yelled at him.

Instead, he asked for updates, still on his phone while running to Wayne Manor, where the butler was ready to give him a lift to the hospital.

Jason was just asleep, they told him, like he was too young and naive to hear the truth. His body needed time to get better, so his head had taken a little vacay.

He was just asleep, the doctors said. All the while Tim kept running numbers in his head, statistics on how likely it was for comatose patients to wake up.

But Jason wasn’t another statistic. He was his friend, his brother, his hero.

Robin. His Robin. The one he watched from the very beginning, the one he discretely helped easing into the hero life by being always there, to unwind after a fight or hang out when the dangers of the life he lead hounded up on him.

The sobs he tried so hard to reign in were now freely bursting out of his dry lips.

When Tim cried, it usually was a quiet thing, tears rolling down marble cheeks, not a sound escaping his mouth. A cry for help from a child who knew no one would come running at the sound of his pain. A resigned thing.

There, at Jason’s bedside, clasping the boy’s hand on his own, what came out of his chest through his mouth was a full out, loud, broken wail.

The next couple of days were kind of a blur to him. He was aware that, at some point, Mister Wayne had tried to coax him away from the room and to his home. He knows, too, that had his parents been there to witness his hysterical tantrum, he would have been grounded until it was time for him to leave for college. Every few hours, Alfred would came and feed him small bits of food. Sometimes he threw up, sometimes he didn't. It was like tossing a coin on that one.

He thinks it’s a week later, but it could very well be a month, when he weaseled his way into Jay’s bed, careful of the IVs attached to his arms, and spoke out loud for probably the first time since the explosion.

-You don’t have to keep hiding. I know about you. About how… you gave Dick, and then Jay, their powers. I… I know I’m not the only one grieving, so if you want, we could… keep each other company.

A few moments passed by. It was okay. Tim wasn’t going anywhere.

Then, a small green and yellow head poked out of Jason’s pillowcase, big blue eyes staring at Tim in wonder and wariness.

-...how?

-Dick’s not nearly as inconspicuous as he believes he is. I already knew he was Robin, but couldn’t figure out how exactly did he get his powers… Until one day, he thought I was asleep, and transformed in the bathroom attached to the room I was in. Doofus didn’t even completely close the door.

The little thing laughed, like a bell. Tim borrowed deeper into Jay’s side.

-My name is Merle, Robin’s kwami.

-I’m Tim. Robin’s friend.

----.----.----

Now…

Red Hood arrived at the scene in record time. He was almost impressed.

Once there, the masked hero drew his guns, loading each of them with a brown and gold magazine. As far as Tim understood, Hood’s powers derived from his firearms, and he had different kind of bullets for specific situations.

He shot at strategic points in the asphalt cage, crumbling it to the ground. Coincidently, none of those points were near the corner were Tim was crouched. Typical.

-Is everyone alright? -asked the hero, once the dust had settled and they were free.

A few nods, some ‘thanks for the save’ then and there, the occasional ‘any clue where the Akuma is? I’d like to avoid it today’, and then the people scattered. A woman strode past Red Hood, phone at hand, yelling something about child support.

Tim took his time getting up, straightening his tie and running his fingers through his hair in an attempt at controlling the strands again.

-Hey -the masked man approached him, concern palpable in his tone- you alright, Tim?

It said something about his life as Tim Drake, that he was on first name basis with Gotham’s heroes.

-Yep, just hungry. I was on my way to have lunch with my friend, so I’ll be leaving now.

He saw the anxiety flash through Hood’s expression at the mention, remembering that Tim was expecting to see his alter ego at the restaurant, but he still had an Akuma to catch.

-Ah, wait! You mean, that Jason dude, right?

-Yeah?

Tim wondered if it made him a sadist, the satisfaction he got from making Jason, Dick or Damian squirm like this, putting them on the fence with his ‘innocent’ worry about their alter egos.

-I saw him on m’way here, actually. Said somethin’ came up, and he’s gonna take a raincheck on lunch.

He let the tiniest bit of disbelief slip into his facade, before seemingly deciding to trust the masked man.

-Oh, what a shame. I’ll be very busy the next couple of weeks, it’s going to be a while before we can meet up again.

-That.. that sucks. But, ah, ‘m sure he’ll get it. I gotta go now, kid. See ya around.

He watched Hood’s retreating back as he shot a line at the nearest rooftop. Perfect, since now he’d have the time to transform and catch up with him to help with the Akuma as Red Robin. If Tim Drake got the chance at skipping bonding time with Jason? Even better.

He wasn’t mad at Jason, the way he was at Dick’s alter ego, Nightwing. Jay never hurt him, never casted either him nor Red Robin out (exception made for the very first encounters they had as heroes, back when he still used the Robin miraculous).

But, since his alter ego had slept with Jason’s, he figured he had every reason to feel a little shy.

----.----.----

Then…

-You never tried to get to know him -he said, and it wasn’t a reproach, just a fact. Nevertheless, Dick still cringed in place, bending in on himself like a kid sent to time out.

-I… I know.

-He is just a kid Bruce saw something in. Like you, a kid who needed someone to see his brightest parts, and take him in to give him a chance at a better future.

-I know.

-He’s… he’s a very good person. Really smart, loyal and caring.

-I… know. You told me.

-You are/ Dick, you are one of the best people I know, if not THE best. Why would you treat an innocent kid like the gum stuck in your shoe?

Dick squirms in his place by the door, not daring to get closer to the bed where both Tim and Jason laid, but obviously wanting. Not that it mattered. Jason wouldn’t want him so close by, specially at his most vulnerable, and Tim was nothing if not the ferocious dragon protecting the sleeping Prince’s will, his surname all too fitting.

-Just… It’s just stupid, okay? And it doesn’t matter now. All that matters, is that he gets better. And if… when, he wakes up, I’ll explain it to him.

Dick wouldn’t be able to see him, because of the angle, but Tim catched the yearning and sad look Merle, hiding between Jason’s covers, sent his oldest partner. The little fairy (kwami, Tim reminded himself), his companion this last weeks in guarding Jason’s room, seemed as troubled as Tim had been when he was expected to mediate between the two adopted brothers.

-But not me.

There was something a little dark, a little sad and a little empty in Dick’s eyes. For the first time ever, he didn’t feel the compulsion to fill that void with happiness.

-I don’t think I can stomach telling you, BabyBird.

----.----.----

Now…

He intercepts Red Hood two blocks away from Newtown, still in Crime Alley territory but close enough to the other neighborhood. Since D.I was by Moench Row, just between the Fashion and Diamond districts, it took some time to catch up on the hero.

The fight is well in its final course when he arrives. The Bat is here, which means Red Hood is content on just sharpshooting from a close by rooftop. N and R are missing, but Tim already knew they would be: it’s not Dick’s patrol time, and R must be at school.

As the independent vigilantes, neither Red Robin nor Red Hood follow Batman’s patrol routes nor schedules. For the later, it means he can choose to stay close to the Bowery, Crime Alle and Chinatown, where he feels he’s more useful. For himself, it means he doesn’t have someone putting a hand to his shoulder and mandating down time after a few consecutive hard patrols.

When he was Robin, he wasn’t allowed to fight during school hours, nor after three a.m. If there was some kind of emergency that required all hands on dock, it meant almost a week of taking things slow, because even if B didn’t know his nightlife protege was also his daylife charge, he would never leave a kid under his protection unsupervised enough to hurt themselves. Now, he can choose whenever the fuck he wants to help, and when he feels like leaving the others to deal with it (watching from afar how Dick and Jason dealt with a akuma with the powers of body switching people, and how the heroes had to improvise working with bodies and powers that didn’t suit them, had been too funny to actually put any effort to stop).

Shaking his head to clear it from the memories, he landed softly by Hood’s side, careful to not startle the hero laying on his stomach by the edge of the roof, with a long-distance rifle ready to go on his hands.

-Ya came all t’way here for nothin, Pretty Bird. The old man has it all in hand.

Letting himself fall at the edge, legs dangling and resting his weight on his arms behind him, he allows his gaze to travel through the skyline of buildings. It was a nice view, for those used to the air pollution and angry drivers yelling a few stories bellow.

-Had lunch cancelled, thought I might as well.

Hood grunts, shifting his stance to a less alert one. B clearly didn’t need their help.

-I had fucking plans, man. If B wasn’t in the fucking way, I’d put a bullet through the bastard, see if he lets himself get akumatized again.

Tim crooked his head to the side, analyzing the crazy of the hour.

-It’s a new one, though. I don’t recognize him. Probably his first time getting transformed?

-It’s already one too many. Our lives are just as shitty as anyone’s in the city, and you don’t see us fucking shit up.

-To be fair, we get our chances at therapeutic skull smashing when we keep those guys in check.

A few feet under them, Batman’s batarang was already boomeranging past the former akumatized transit police woman, slicing through the black and green butterfly and setting free the white and pink one trapped inside it.

And he hadn’t needed to move a single muscle. Sighing in defeat (he sooo could have used this time to power nap before his next meeting at work), he climbed to his feet.

-Seems like you were right, we shouldn’t have bothered to come. See ya, Hoo/

-Hey -interrupted the other, suddenly standing, rifle out of sight and way too deep into Tim’s personal bubble-, since we r' both here… no energy lost… n' we didn’t use our miraculous, so no chance of us de-transformin' suddenly…

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Hood, please don’t say it.

-One of my safe spot’s near. Want ta come for a cup of tea?

Don’t play along. Don’t play along. Goddammit, Tim, Don’t play along.

He takes that last step separating them, hands carefully delineating the outline of Hood’s suit of armor.

-You know I don’t drink your dirty leaf-water.

The other hero’s hands were big enough, they could almost completely envelope his waist, something never failed to arouse him.

-Good. Then we can go straight to the cake.

All the way to Hood’s (Jason’s) secret apartment, Tim berated himself, again and again, about how bad of an idea this was. How fucked up (in both senses, oh my god) was he going to be by the end of it. How uncomfortable was it going to be for him to actually talk to the man when the masks came out and Jay was looking at his best friend, not knowing he had had his tongue on his mouth, his neck, deep inside his ass. Not knowing why Tim was suddenly avoiding him.

Why he felt so goddamned guilty.

But, once they arrived to the place, and his back was to the wall not two seconds later, Hood’s strong body pressed tight against his, hands grabbing anything they could, mouth hot and dirty and doting…

He could only throw his head back and moan.

----.----.----

Then...

The city was in absolute chaos. From his place by Jason’s windowsill, Tim winced at the fiery remnants of the last explosion (by the library? It could have also been the post office), the hospital one of the few places untouched by the madness that was Gotham right now.

In his hands, his smartphone kept him up to speed about what was taking place on the streets. Apparently, the patients at Arkham Asylum had been akumatized again, only at the same fucking time. The Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy and Two Faces so far. Apparently, the first two had already been apprehended and de transformed, and the third was calm and unobtrusive at Robinson Park, but since they had kept the Bat focused on them until now, that meant the last of the lot had enough time to completely cover the city in bombs.

Which exploded two at a time, every two hours and twenty two minutes. There was a serious OCD there.

Perched on Tim’s propped up knee, Merle’s sky blue eyes danced from one burning spot to the other, shining like little red and yellow dots on the map that was Gotham from such a height.

-The library -quietly commented the kwami.

-And the Museum -Tim added, fingers tapping the location on the screen of the phone, on the downloaded blueprints of the city.

-Before that, it was the park.

-And the Aquarium.

-And the first two where the Zoo…

-...and planetarium.

-Why those places?

Minutes were ticking by. Bombs kept going off, unpredictable locations being blown up with everyone inside with them. Batman and Nightwing, Gotham’s newest hero, were running themselves ragged, trying to contain the damage and stop the villain. Batgirl worked with the authorities to keep buildings standing, her Eye of Insight (which, Tim was now aware, was her Miraculous) determining the most flimsy spots in the structures, the ones they needed to reinforce before the entire thing crumbled down.

And Tim was here, at the hospital, hearing the nurses and doctors doing their best to save everyone from being a casualty of the akuma’s violence, useless to both his family and the innocents from Gotham that were most likely going to die today.

(Everything because Bruce couldn’t think straight)

-Kids, Merle -he answered, his phone going, once again, to the billionaire's voicemail-. Those are all places where kids like to go, or have to. If he keeps the timeline, the next attack would be at two twenty two a.m, and it’s going to be…

-Gotham’s kindergarten? -the little creature tried to guess. It wasn’t too far off, since, judging by how many witnesses on twitter swore to have spotted the bat at Gotham’s primary school, B thought the same.

But it was wrong.

(Everything because, since Jason died, Bruce stopped thinking about the akumatized people as… people. People with minds of their own. With feelings)

-The orphanage.

(Horrible and twisted feelings, but feelings after all)

-We have to stop him!

-How? B isn’t picking up. Neither is Alf. Dick’s phone is at my house where he left it yesterday. I have no other way to contact them. And Bruce is so deep in his rage because of Jason’s accident, he’s so desperate to hurt something, he’s being impulsive. Reckless. He’s not going to think about orphans until it’s too late.

-We can’t just stay here! -Merle cried out, desperate at the sight of his city in flames, of one of his boys out there risking his life, and the other fighting for it in the bed behind their backs.

-Well, what would you have me do? -Tim finally snapped, standing from the windowsill and turning to face the kwami- I can’t just take a bus to Gotham’s school and yell at B to move his ass!

-Yes you can! You have to!

-I’ll never make it in time! There’s no vehicle that could dodge the shitstorm that must be the streets now, and unless you have some way for me to travel via rooftops, I would never make it there! I can’t help anyone! I’m not Robin!

When no reply came, Tim’s eyes, that had strayed to the window again, looked for the kwami.

Merle floated right in front of him, face determined, eyes pleading. He held a too familiar necklace, that almost every boy and girl wore as an ode to their hero. A green ‘R’, encircled in red, on a golden chain.

Robin’s necklace.

-But you could be. If you take this and fly with me, you could be. Gotham needs a hero. Batman needs a Robin. Your family needs you.

On the little screen, the reporters said something about Nightwing being hurt by a burning beam falling on him.

He made the decision before he could even think about it.

-Merle, help me fly.

Robin soared the skies again.

#my writing #i can't believe i did this #i'm so tired #i did this instead of sleeping #Tim Drake #dick grayson #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #Barbara gordon #Miraculous Ladybug au #Batman is a magical girl #No edit we die like women #no beta #JayTim #future TimDick #future JayTimDick #secret identity

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karabishcp · 6 years ago

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( cisfemale ) haven’t seen KARA BISHOP around in a while. the CHLOE BENNET lookalike has been known to be (+) AMBITIOUS & (+) RESOURCEFUL, but SHE can also be (-) COLD & (-) SELFISH. The 22 year old is a SENIOR majoring in PRE-LAW. I believe they’re living in PEREGRINIS but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door.

hey loves!! i’m cc and i’m super excited to be here! here’s a lil bit about my girl kara below!!

very very driven and ambitious. she can be hella competitive. she likes to succeed and be the best and she’s spent most of her life doing just that. it’s important to her that she put herself in the best position to be successful after college.

the reason for her ambitious nature is her upbringing. she was brought up by two very strict and business-oriented parents that expected nothing but the best from her. so, she strives to meet her goals not only for herself, but for them. it can be much more stressful than she will admit to most other people, but she tends to bottle it up and keep it to herself. she hates to be seen as weak.

her personality is a lil bit of a mixed bag. she’s not a mean person, but she is very blunt and sharp-tongued, not hesitating to speak her thoughts. she doesn’t open up to people very much and freely admits she’s not in any way altruistic.

has grown up in new york all her life and loves the city; hence why she lives in peregrinis. she much prefers to be downtown amidst the busier area. not to mention hearing the cars driving at night has grown to be a bit of a lullaby for her.

andddd i think that’s it??? i feel like i should write more but i’m also a lazy potato rn so forgive me grjhjbgfhf. hit me up for plots and all that jazz!!! again, i’m a potato so i can’t fathom a big list of stuff to type out right now, but i am literally down for everything and anything!!

#water:intro

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littlerose13writes · 7 years ago

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The Albus Laws

This is a ‘deleted’ scene from my fic Sweeter Than Fiction :) thanks to @australianslytherin for the suggestion!

Scorpius fondly glanced over at where Albus was lying in the grass on his back with a Transfiguration textbook balanced over his face and his hands in his lap. He breathed evenly and the pages fluttered slightly.

“Remember when we promised our parents that us spending time together over Easter wouldn’t interfere with OWL revision?” Scorpius said loudly.

Albus made a noise of complaint. “I’m revising! Ask me anything!” His voice was muffled from beneath the textbook.

“Okay, what is the third principal exception to Gamp’s elemental law of Transfiguration,” Scorpius challenged.

There was a pause and then Albus sat up, pushing the book from his face and frowning at Scorpius. “Is that the one about not being able to conjure food into existence?”

“Incorrect, that’s Gamp’s first principal exception.”

“One of the exceptions,” Albus waved a hand casually and sat up next to Scorpius. “How come this Gamp gets to make his own laws anyway? I’m going to make a set of laws, the Albus Laws.”

Scorpius snorted. “What are the Albus Laws?”

Albus thought for a second. “Albus’ first law: all life things will not start until at least midday so we can all get enough sleep. Albus’ second law: exams are not allowed to exist, neither is revision. Albus’ third law: Scorpius Malfoy has to kiss me right now.”

He laughed. “The third law is oddly specific, might be difficult for most people to follow as you’re the only one here right now.”

“It’s a law, Scorpius.” Albus raised his eyebrows in mock offence. Scorpius grinned and leaned over to kiss him. Albus’ expression was soft. “Are you okay?”

Scorpius didn’t say anything and played with some blades of grass, running his fingers through them. “Yeah. You know what it’s like.”

Albus nodded. “I know. I used to go straight to bed after my therapy sessions, it was easier to think everything through. Are you sure you want to revise?”

“Very sure,” Scorpius insisted. “We focus more on clearing my mind of unwanted thoughts so the busier I am, the better. It makes it easier.”

“You’re having unwanted thoughts?” Albus asked in concern.

“Not that I’m thinking about bad things,” Scorpius assured him hurriedly. “But all thoughts are unwanted when you’re trying for a clear mind. It’s what I do when I’m feeling anxious.”

“How do you clear them?”

“You let them exist but instead of dwelling on them you just… let them float past.” Scorpius waved his hand to indicate a thought floating past. “You recognise they exist, but don’t let them take over.”

“You tell him, Scorp.” A voice interrupted their conversation and Lily strolled on over, placing herself down in between Albus and Scorpius and looking like she’d just woken up from the most relaxing dream. Her face was so calm and peaceful, her eyes were drifting shut, but her back was straight and her legs crossed beneath her. “Hi.”

“Hello, Lily,” Scorpius greeted kindly.

“I thought you were at Luna’s?” Albus said, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“I was,” Lily said softly. “But now I’m back.” She sighed dreamily.

“Explains why you’re all… Luna-y,” Albus surveyed her.

Lily was wearing pale pink and grey sportswear and her long, red hair was tied into a bun with a string of rosebuds threaded around it. She brought with her an interesting but pleasant scent, sort of earthy and flowery all at the same time.

“Your conversation sounded interesting,” Lily commented, ignoring Albus’ words. “What were you talking about?”

Albus glanced at Scorpius hurriedly. “Er, Scorpius read this book about-“

“It’s okay,” Scorpius interrupted shooting Albus a reassuring look. “We were talking about something my therapist has been teaching me.”

Lily reacted to the idea of Scorpius seeing a therapist the same way she might have reacted to him telling her he’d bought an ice cream that morning. “It sounded like yoga.”

“It’s not yoga, it’s a technique to recognise but not acknowledge your thoughts.”

Lily nodded. “That’s what I do when I practise yoga, Luna taught me. You tune everything out until the only thing left to focus on is your breath and your body. Then you can assign movements to your breath. It’s very calming. Have you ever tried?”

Scorpius shook his head.

Lily’s dreamy expression sharpened slightly and her bright eyes snapped over to Scorpius. “Oh please can I teach you some? Please, oh please, Scorpius! You might find it really helpful! Please!”

By the end of this monologue, she was holding onto his forearm in excitement.

Albus frowned at his sister. “Lil, Scorpius might not want to.”

“Can we just try? Please?”

Scorpius couldn’t see a reason why he should say no to Lily. “I don’t have to be really flexible, do I?”

Lily shook her head. “Not at all! Albus has done it before, haven’t you?”

Albus reluctantly nodded. “Once or twice, and I was rubbish. But look, I can touch my toes now!” He reached forward and just skimmed his toes with his fingertips, looking very pleased with himself. “Quidditch helps.”

Lily smiled proudly. “Well done, Al.” She turned back to Scorpius. “So, what do you think, Scorp? I think you’ll like it! Al, you can come too. Don’t want to separate you lovebirds.”

And that was how, later that morning, Scorpius found himself sat on a blue yoga mat in the Potters’ garden behind Lily, who was on her own pink mat, and beside Albus whose mat was green. Albus had found a ladybird in the grass and was watching it run over his palm in fascination.

Lily cleared her throat. “First, we’re going to sit with our feet together and start to tune into our breathing.”

Albus pretended to concentrate hard for a second. “Yep, not dead, I’m breathing.”

Lily gave him a withering look. “Notice the way it feels as your lungs fill and your chest expands. Feel the breath leave you.”

Following Lily’s words, Scorpius fell into a pleasant rhythm of deep breathing. His eyes drifted shut and he enjoyed the relaxing feeling of sitting here breathing deeply as Lily’s soothing voice washed over him. She talked them through something called a three part breath, which they did together for a bit. Scorpius glanced across at Albus to see him looking just as peaceful as Scorpius felt, his eyes closed and his expression relaxed.

“Let’s just do this and then the lying down part,” Albus sighed into the quiet.

Lily ignored him. “Now we can attach some movements to our breathing. Keep the same rhythm, and just start to gently move into a table top position. From there, move forward, tuck your toes and come into wand position.”

Somehow, Lily had fluidly gone through a series of motions and ended up in a different pose entirely. Scorpius stared at her in confusion, still in the table top position. Beside him, Albus messily manoeuvred himself to copy Lily; Scorpius hastily did the same.

“Hold your wand,” Lily said and it took Scorpius a second to remember the pose was called wand and he didn’t need to actually draw his wand for this. “Lower slowly to the mat and push up into a basilisk.”

“Shouldn’t we ask it first?” Albus snorted at his own joke, in an approximation of what Lily was doing.

Scorpius had never been more aware of just how much limb he seemed to own as he copied Lily’s movements. He was upside down in what she called a downward crup and through his own legs he could see Albus trying to scratch his nose with his own shoulder.

“Step or float your feet to your hands,” Lily commanded casually.

“My what to my where?” Albus was incredulous, his voice muffled from where he was still upside down.

“Your feet to your hands,” Lily repeated, “so you can stand up.”

“Well just say that then,” Albus sighed.

Scorpius was feeling incredibly relaxed and was thoroughly enjoying himself, which was more than could be said for Albus, who was clearly bored of the whole thing already.

When he asked Lily for a third time when they could do the lying down relaxing part, she huffed and grabbed Scorpius’ hand and started pulling him away. “Come on, Scorp. Let’s finish this on our own.”

“No, I’m sorry, I’ll be good!” Albus chuckled and Lily gave in.

True to his word, he didn’t say anything else until Lily had finished and told them both to lie on their backs.

“This is the best bit,” Albus said gleefully.

Fifteen minutes later and feeling more relaxed than he could ever remember being, Scorpius was quick to ask Lily when they could do it again. She was ecstatic that he’d liked it and promised they could do it as often as he wanted. It turned into a daily thing, every morning for the rest of Scorpius’ stay at the Potters’ - early, so well before Albus was awake. But Scorpius grew to love coming back from the garden feeling all relaxed and wholesome to climb into bed beside his boyfriend and cuddle him until he woke up.

#scorbus #scorpius malfoy #albus Severus potter #lily Lyn potter #swf bonus scenes #sweeter Than fiction #cursed child #ccsquad #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #scorbus do yoga

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