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maxineswritingcenter · 4 years ago

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You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 7

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Derek was alive. I let out a shaky breath as I used a tree to get back onto my feet.

“Derek…” I whispered. He stood on the hill, his shoulders rising and falling as he slowed down his breathing. Even though my legs were shaking from almost being mauled to death, I started walking towards him. And the walk turned into a run as I made my way to him. I stopped just short of him. Our eyes met and all my fear was washed away by overwhelming joy.

“You’re okay.” I grinned, “You’re alive.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Derek slowly slid his arms around my waist, holding me close. He turned his head, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke.

“We need to talk.”

After taking Scott home, Derek and him talked and agreed on something. They would work together and kill the alpha to cure Scott. I sent a quick text to Stiles to tell him I was alright and Scott was calm.

Derek had offered to drive me home, the drive there was filled with his energy that I had never felt before, it was electrifying. I was just happy that he was alive. Once we were on the street the Stilinski’s lived on, I made him park a little bit back from the house in case Uncle Noah came home.

“When did you start seeing it? The visions.” He asked, putting the car in park.

“They started the night I last saw you. I am always looking through your eyes, feeling what you feel.” I leaned back against the headrest, looking at him. He seemed frustrated and upset. His lips were tight, but there was that look in his eyes that had made him look young and afraid.

“What have you seen?”

“I saw you talking to your uncle, you were agitated and felt lost. I saw you talking with this woman about your sister, you were angry and had so much guilt balled up in your chest. And I-… I felt the alpha attack you. I could not even describe the fear you felt then.” Derek’s hands were tightly gripping onto the steering wheel, it almost looked like he was blinking back tears. He felt weak, why I could feel that now I didn’t understand.

“Derek, what’s happening? I don’t understand why I’m seeing parts of your life.” I turned fully in my seat.

“It’s not uncommon among werewolves.” He said.

“But I’m not a werewolf.”

Derek shifted in his seat so he was facing me, “What it is… It’s a connection of two. Think of it like-”

“Soulmates?” I inserted the word.

He nodded, “But for werewolves it is supposed to happen after a mating ritual.”

“I think I can imagine what that is.” I blew out a breath, “So… why me? Why us? If it’s not possible then how?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because high stress situations have been putting us together.”

“Do you see visions of me?” I was really hoping he hadn’t been seeing me cry over him.

“I have.” Crap. “The night the alpha attacked me and then tonight.” He paused and sighed, “I felt this intense pull in my chest to find you. You needed me to come to you.”

“I thought I was going to die tonight. I thought that Scott was going to kill me.” I shook my head, “My luck is pretty crap.”

“I found you each time, didn’t I?” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“I guess you’re right.” I smiled and looked down at my lap, “Seems pretty inconvenient for you though. Saving me all the time.”

“It’s not.” He reached over, tilting my face to look at him, “Whenever you need me, I will be there.”

“I thought you needed to focus on finding the alpha, so that you couldn’t be selfish.” My breath hitched when he moved forward, pressing his forehead to mine.

“It seems the universe had a different plan for us.” He paused, “I can’t promise you everything all at once. After we take down the alpha, after I have some time to come to peace with other things, then we could take the time to explore…whatever this is.” He leaned back in his seat.

“That is, if those idiots don’t get me arrested first.”

I chuckled a little, “They may be idiots. But they’re still just kids. No matter how many times Stiles tells me he’s a man, he is still a sucker for Spice Girls.” I unbuckled my seat belt, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

Derek grinned and nodded, “Right of course.” His smile was so… it suited him to smile. After all the grim and stern looks, I wanted to be able to make him smile everyday. I closed the door, leaning into the window.

“Smiling suits you.” I stood up and patted the top of the car. He dropped the smile, and chewed on his cheek.

“Just remember, if you need me, I’ll know and I’ll be on my way.” I nodded, turning away and walking home.

Did I ever think that I would be in a car chase? Absolutely not. But was I in a car chase with Kate Argent with Scott and Stiles while Derek was on the run from Uncle Noah? Absolutely. I was in the back of Derek’s Camaro, headset on with a police radio scanner from the Stilinksi’s basement. It was an older model and out of use but it could still pick up radio.

“They’re chasing him on foot, heading northwest.” I shouted to Scott, holding onto the radio as we raced through downtown. In pursuit was Kate Argent.

“Faster?” Scott asked, gripping the steering wheel.

“Much faster.” Stiles answered, watching out the back window. Scott seemed to go a little faster, but the other car was still catching up.

“Scott, I don’t think you’re grasping the concept of a car chase, here…” Stiles said nervously.

If I go faster, I’ll kill us!” Scott shouted, clearly panicking. Stiles leaned forward.

“Well, if you don't go faster, they're gonna kill us!” Scott pressed down on the pedal, but Kate Argent and her team seemed to divert away and left them.

“They’re gone.” A new message came over the radio: “All units, suspect is on foot heading into the Iron Works.”

“He’s in the Iron works.” I called, and suddenly my vision clouded.

Derek ran but was stopped by a flash bang, blinding him, shots rang out.

“And hurry, Chris Argent’s got him cornered.”

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’ll explain later.” Scott turned sharply, stopping the car. Derek was behind a forklift, shots ringing out towards them.

“Get in!” Stiles shouted. Derek hurriedly got in the car, Scott speeding off before he even finished closing the door.

“What part of “laying low” don’t you understand?!” Scott said in an exasperated voice.

“Damn it!” Derek growled, “I had him!”

“Who? The Alpha?” Stiles leaned forward, I pulled him back, pointing to his seat belt. He rolled his eyes but put it on.

Yes!” He said impatiently, “He was right in front of me, and the friggin’ police showed up.”

“Whoa! Hey, they’re just doing their jobs-” Stiles defended his dad.

“Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!” He shouted to Scott.

Can we seriously get past that? I made a dumbass mistake. I get it.” Scott said defensively.

“All right. How did you find him?” Stiles asked Derek.

Scott scoffed, “Can you try to trust us for at least half a second?”

“Yeah, both of us!” Derek glared back at him, making Stiles shrink back into his seat, “Or, just him. I’ll be back here.” Derek glanced back at me. I nodded for him to tell.

“Look, the last time I talked to my sister, she was close to figuring something out. She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris.”

“Our chemistry teacher?” Stiles was back leaning forward.

“Why him?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“What’s the second?”

“Some kind of symbol.” Derek pulled a piece of paper with a drawing on it. It looked like a family crest with a wolf and sun. Scott stared at it.

“What? You know what this is?”

“I’ve seen it on a necklace. Allison’s necklace.” Scott looked back at the road.

I sat at my desk, getting some papers ready for tonight’s lacrosse game, when I heard knocking at my window. I turned quickly and sighed when it wasn’t, in fact, a murderer. Derek looked around and knocked again impatiently. I quickly opened the window and pulled him inside.

“What the hell are you doing?” I whispered, “My uncle is here, you know, the one that wants you arrested.” He grunted as he got up, closing the window and the curtains, setting a pile of books on my desk.

“This was Stiles’ idiot plan so blame him.”

“He was right, you are kind of a sour wolf.” I laughed, he was very unamused.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Stay here, I’ll go grab you water and something to eat. You’re starving.” I turned to the door but stopped, turning back to face him.

“How do I know you’re starving?” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Probably the same way I can talk to you like this.” His voice echoed in my head, I jumped and pointed at him.

“Warning! Some warning would be nice!” I gave him a scolding look and went out into the hallway, quietly shutting the door behind me.

As I was making Derek a sandwich, Stiles bolted through the door and upstairs. I sighed and finished the food, heading upstairs.

As I got to the top, Uncle Noah came out from around a corner, “Hey Stiles!” He called and then noticed me, “Hey (Y/N).” He looked down at the sandwich, “I didn’t know you liked ham and…thick cut beef jerky sandwiches.” I looked down at the sandwich.

“Uh yeah, I just figured out I liked it.” I grabbed the sandwich and took a bite. I hummed and chewed it, even though I rather spit it back out.

“I’ll have to pick some up next time I’m out. My buddy at the station makes it.” I nodded and continued to chew. That would explain why it was heavy on the pepper. That guy should really stick to his day job.

Stiles mumbled something from his room as he came out.

“What’d you say?” Uncle Noah asked.

Stiles leaned on the doorway, “What? I said “Yo, D-Dad.”

Uncle Noah sighed, “Listen, I’ve got something I’ve got to take care of, but I’m gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game.” He smiled

Stiles nodded, “My first game… Uh, it’s great! Awesome. Uh, good!”

“I’m very happy for you. And I’m really proud of you.” He said sincerely. If I didn’t have this terrible jerky in my mouth, I would be more emotional.

“Thanks. Me too. I’m happy and proud of myself.”

“So, they’re really gonna let you play, right?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m first line! Believe that?”

“I’m very proud.”

“Oh, me, too. Again, I’m-” Stiles came forward, forcing Uncle Noah into an incredibly awkward, “Huggie, huggie, huggie…”

“See you there.” Uncle Noah pulled away, heading downstairs.

“Take it easy.” He said as he left. I waited until I heard the front door close to spit the mush back onto my plate. The jerky looked just as intact as it had when it went in my mouth.

“Oh my god, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” I went back downstairs and threw out that abomination and the rest of it that was in the fridge. For as long as I live, Uncle Noah will be bringing home that jerky for me to eat. But that was a sacrifice I was willing to make to make him happy. I made a different sandwich with edible toppings this time and made it upstairs to see Derek grumbling and broody as usual. I handed him the plate. He took it then sniffed the air.

“What smells like death?” He asked. I covered my mouth.

“Don’t ask, just know that it will never hurt anyone ever again.”

After many rounds of tooth brushing and mouthwash, the death smell was extinguished. When I came back in, Danny from the lacrosse team was sitting at the computer with Stiles and Derek was sitting in the corner, reading.

“You want me to do what?” Danny asked, “Hey (Y/N).” He greeted me before looking back at Stiles. I nodded and waved.

“Trace a text.”

“I came here to do lab work– that’s what lab partners do.”

“And we will!” He paused, “Once you trace the text.”

And what makes you think I know how?”

“I-I looked up your arrest report, so-”

“I-I was thirteen. They dropped the charges.” He said defensively.

“Whatever.”

“No, we’re doing lab work.”

“Oh, my…” Stiles sighed, looking at the computer. I sighed and grabbed a book from the pile that Derek had. It looked old, the pages were yellowed. I turned to a random page and browsed, listening in on Stiles and Danny.

“Who’s that again?” Danny whispered. Stiles looked back at Derek, then back to Danny.

“Um, my cousin…Miguel.” He lied. Derek glanced up at them, then back to the book. I bit my lip to keep my giggles back. Derek’s eyes shot me a warning glance.

“Is that blood on his shirt?” Danny asked. My eyes widened. I hadn’t realized it but his grey long sleeve shirt had spots of blood.

“Yeah. Yes. Well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds.” Stiles looked back at Derek, “Hey, Miguel. I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts.” He looked pointedly towards his dresser. Derek closed the book on his lap and set it aside. He stood up, went to Stiles’ dresser and took his shirt off, revealing the triskelion tattoo between his shoulder blades. And it seems like I wasn’t the only one appreciating that it was off either. Danny was taking quick glances towards Derek.

“So, anyway, I mean, we both know you have the skills to trace that text, so we should probably-”

“Uh, Stiles…?” Derek said, holding a button down shirt in his hands.

“Yes?” Stiles asked innocently.

“This… no fit!” He said irritably, tugging the shirt. I covered my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut. It was cruel to be in this situation and not laugh.

‘Then try something else on!” Stiles turned back to Danny, “Sorry.” Derek found a blue and orange striped collared shirt.

“Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh? What do you think, Danny?” Derek looked incredibly beyond pissed, but that anger was directed at Stiles so this just kept getting better and better. I was nearly in tears. Was Stiles using Danny’s sexuality to his advantage? Yes, and we would have a talk about that later, but right now it was too damn funny.

“Huh.” Danny avoided looking at Derek, trying not to get caught staring.

“The shirt?”

Danny looked over, “It’s… it’s not really his color…” Derek removed the shirt.

“You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don’t you, Danny-boy?” Stiles whispered to him when they were both turned towards the computer.

Danny sighed, “You’re a horrible person.”

“I know. It keeps me awake at night. Anyway, about that text…”

“Stiles!” Derek said, frustrated, “None of these fit!”

“I’ll need the ISP, the phone number, and the exact time of the text.” Stiles gave him the information and after some typing and clicks, “There. The text came from a computer. This one.” Derek and I came up behind the two after he found a dark grey shirt that managed to fit.

“Registered to that account name?” Derek asked. Danny nodded.

“No, no, no, no. That can't be right.”

“Scott’s mom?” I asked. Right there, Melissa McCall. Danny left soon after, a pink blush to his cheeks. Stiles walked him out.

I grabbed my lacrosse bag, getting ready to leave to get to the game. Hopefully I could give Stiles a few minutes before Coach kicked him back to second line for being late. Derek stood in my path.

“Was that situation funny to you?” He glared, tilting his head to the side.

“Uh, after the fact, no.” I giggled a little, “But at the time it was really funny.” He wasn’t laughing. I cleared my throat.

“Alright, I’m sorry. It wasn’t right of me to laugh.” I patted his chest, “But he was right, blue and orange are not your colors.” He grabbed my wrist, keeping my hand on his chest.

“And what exactly are my colors?” His expression had softened. I smiled and hummed, thinking for a moment.

“Dark red, burgundy. Greys. Maybe blue, just not that shirt. Never again.” I looked down, “You know it’s not Scott’s mom, right?”

He nodded, “I know.”

“And as much of a pain as he is, Stiles is like family to me. And I have this terrible feeling in my chest that something’s going to go wrong tonight.” I bunched up his shirt in my hand, “Please keep him safe. And you should be careful too.”

“It won’t take too long. We just need to get security footage.”

“I’m serious, Derek.” I pulled my hand away, “I have a dark feeling. And I’m scared.”

“And I believe you.” He reassured me, “I’ll make sure Stiles comes back in one piece. I promise.”

I breathed in deeply, and let it out, “Okay.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss on my forehead. I really hoped that this feeling was wrong.

I stood with Scott in the corner of the locker room. Or at least I think that’s where we were. Coach made me wear a blindfold to “protect my eyes from men”.

“Did you get the picture?” Scott asked, referring to the picture he had taken of Allison’s necklace that he stole.

“Yeah, I did, and it looks just like the drawing.” Stiles said.

“Hey, is there something on the back of it? There’s gotta be something– an inscription, an opening, something…” Derek asked.

“No, no, the thing’s flat. And, no, it doesn’t open. There’s nothing in it, on it, around it, nothing. And where are you? You’re supposed to be here. You’re first line.”

“Where the hell is Bilinski?!” Coach shouted from his office.

“Man, you’re not gonna play if you’re not here to start.”

“I can only buy you so much time, Stiles.” I said into the phone.

“I know. Look, if you see my dad, can you tell him… tell him I’ll be there, I’ll just be a little bit late, okay?”

“Loud and clear.” I sighed.

“Alright, thanks.” Stiles hung up the phone.

I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head, “He’s not gonna make it. First game his dad shows up to and he’s not gonna make it.” I poked Scott in the chest, “You owe him big time for this.” I felt at the wall, making my way back in the ( I think) direction of Finstock’s office.

I sat in the office, fiddling with my thumbs when I felt it again. That painful fear in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Stiles, get out of there right now! It’s him! He’s the Alpha! Get out!” Derek shouted into the phone. He cursed and got out of the Jeep, running inside. His heart was beating fast and a terrible realization was going through his head. His own Uncle killed his sister. It had been him all along, how could he have missed it? Derek ran inside, punching the nurse that had been taking care of his Uncle and helping him in his crimes. She fell to the floor, out cold.

“That’s not nice. She’s my nurse.” I looked at the man who I had seen from the previous vision but now he was walking and talking and Derek was scared.

“She’s a psychotic bitch helping you kill people.” I looked at Stiles, “Get out of the way.”

“Oh, damn…” Stiles squeaked. Derek launched himself at his uncle only to be grabbed and slammed into one wall and then another. Peter picked him up by the throat and slid him across the room on his back. I saw Peter’s attention go back to Stiles. Derek pushed himself up, punching Peter in the nose. It didn’t seem to phase him. Peter headbutted Derek and kicked him in the stomach. Sending him back into another wall. Pain spread through my back. But Derek still stood up, spitting blood. He threw punches at Peter but they were dodged, he grabbed Derek’s wrist and bent it back, fracturing it. He went down to his knees. Peter then grabbed him and threw him through a pane of glass.

I gasped and sat back, holding my arm tightly. It felt like it was broken but it wasn’t my arm that had been broken. It was Derek’s

Out of the field, Coach called for a huddle.

“Scott.” I tried to grab his attention, but from the looks he was giving Jackson, it meant that he probably knew something.

“Let’s go! Huddle up! Let’s go! Big night! Big night! get in here, (Y/L/N).” Coach pulled my arm into the huddle.

“Ready? Say it so they can hear it! Hands in!” We all put our hands in the middle of the circle, “What are we?”

“WE ARE LACROSSE!” They shouted.

“All right, take the field! Let’s go!” Coach sent them out. It was too late to tell Scott who the alpha was and there was no way I could slip away to help without Coach noticing. Derek was getting his ass kicked and there was nothing I could do to help him.

“You gotta get out of there. Grab Stiles and run.” I thought hard, hoping that I could send my thoughts to him. I heard nothing back so my heart sank even deeper.

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bunnybunnyangel · 5 years ago

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1-Knitting

“Where’s Red Hood?” Nightwing asked as he landed on the roof of the building and looked over at the rest of the batfam.

“He’s not coming.” Batman said as he crossed his arms and looked at Nightwing,

“You’re late by the way.”

“I know. I ran into some guys robbing a gas station.”

“Hn”

“Good talk B.” Nightwing chuckled and walked towards his brothers.

“Good afternoon baby birdies.”

“Hey, Dick.

“Do you know where Jason is?”

“He said he was taking the night off and that Bruce can fuck off.”

“That gives me an idea!” Nightwing beamed at his siblings and then ran over to Bruce,

“Hey! B! If Red Hood can take the night off then we should go visit him!”

“No.”

“Come on Bruce. You know how Jason gets when he’s alone.” Tim said as he leaned on his bo staff,

“No. We have patrol.”

“Father. We should go see Todd.”

“Yeah B!” Stephanie said as she bounced up and down. Cass smiled and stood silently behind Steph. Bruce looked at each of his kids and sighed. He knew when he was outnumbered and when he lost. Because when it comes to his kids he really couldn’t tell them no. So away they went to Jason’s apartment. Somehow halfway there Dick and Steph turned it into a race, Dick won of course.

“Soooo front door or window?”

“The front door is for normal people.” Dick said with a smile.

“Window it is.” Tim said as he pried the window to Jason’s apartment.

“....Do you hear music?”

“Jason’s listening to music.”

The family slowly crept into the apartment. Only one light was on and that was to the living room. They walked towards the living room and they each froze. Jason was sitting in a rocking chair humming along to the soft music that was playing through the radio with knitting needles. Was he knitting a sweater, oh my god he was. Dick put his hand on the wall but ended up knocking something off the wall. Jason jumped off of the rocking chair and looked behind him. Damian and Tim both covered their mouths to not laugh. Jason was wearing a fluffy pink sweater with a cartoonish red bat.

Jason’s face turned a very bright red,

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!”

“We came to visit you. Oh my god, you’re adorable in that!”

“Please stop.” Jason sighed and looked away. Stephanie squealed as she grabbed something out of a basket.

“It has my name on it!” Jason looked over to Stephanie and sighed.

“I made it for you. I uh..made everyone something.” As soon as those words left his mouth Steph grabbed the basket and dumped everything on the floor,

“Oh come on Steph!” She gave everyone whatever had their names on it. Dick had a pair of black and blue gloves, Damian had a green scarf that had the Wayne family crest, Tim had a red and black hat, Cass had a hat with tiny bat ears.

“Aww, Jay! Where did you learn how to knit anyway?”

“When I was in France with the league I met an old woman who didn’t have any family willing to visit her. So I stayed with her when I was able too. We talked and she should me how to knit. She said I was the best grandson she knew. She uh..died shortly after. So whenever I’m missing her I knit.”

“I’m sorry Jason.”

“Jaylad…”

“I-It’s ok. I swear it is.” He was tackled by all of his family in a giant hug.

“Guys...can’t...breath..” They let go of him slowly.

“So. Got any stories about the lady?”

“Cecile Bisset. She was the sweetest old lady.” That whole night was full of Jason telling stories about Cecile and knitting a sweater. Once the sweater was done he handed it to Bruce.

“There you are.” Bruce stared at the sweater and smiled. It was black with pink cuffs and had “Best Bat Dad” on it.

“Happy early father’s day.”Bruce sat the sweater to the side and hugged Jason.

“I love you son.”

“Love you too dad.”

2-Horse Back riding

“Soo. Jason ran off.” Bruce sighed loudly as he turned the chair to look at his kids.

“Why?” Dick shrugged at Bruce’s response.

“I don’t know. He said he needed to leave Gotham for a bit.” Bruce sighed again and grabbed his phone. He went into his contacts and called Clark.

“Clark. Is Jason either over at your place or coming over?.... We’ll come by in about an hour.” Bruce sat his phone on the batcomputers desk.

“He’s at Clark’s?” Tim asked as he sat down in his swivel office chair and spun himself around

“He’s at the Kent’s place in Smallville.” Tim stopped spinning in the chair and looked at Bruce,

“Why’s he at the Kent’s?”

“I don’t know. But we are going to go see.”

“Cool. Let’s follow the Red Hood and see what he does on the weekend.” Damian said as he looked over at Stephanie who was standing on the t-rex’s head as she played with the stuffed knitted bear that Jason made for her.

“He knits on the weekends Dami!” She said with a smile.

“Steph get off the t-rex.”

“Sure B.”

“So...shall we go get our wayward birdy?” Dick smiled as he looked around at his family, Tim sighed loudly and got off his chair.

“Fine.” Dick rolled his eyes while Bruce tried not to smack his face with his palm.

It took them twenty minutes to get on the road and towards Smallville. Bruce really needed to talk to Jason about running off without telling them. They worry about Jason, they’re scared he’ll get hurt while they aren’t there with him. When they reach the Kent’s farm, Clark was waiting for them outside the farmhouse. He smiled at the Wayne’s.

“Hey, guys! How was the drive over?”

“Where’s Jason?” Bruce ignored the question, he only wanted to see his son. Clark smiled,

“He’s in the back with Ma and Pa. Come on.” He seemed eager to show them something. And when they got to the back they realized why. Jason was riding in a circle with a beautiful black horse. They could see a bright smile on his face. Ma Kent walked over to them and offered them some lemonade.

“Good to see you boys again.” She smiled at them.

“I didn’t know Jason could ride horses.”

“He’s really good at it. Cause he can’t really take the horses to Gotham he keeps them here. Thanks, Ma.” Clark said as he took a glass of lemonade from his mom. Jason noticed them and smiled at them, he pulled on the horse’s reins making the horse stop. He got off the horse and handed the reins to Pa Kent who gladly took it. Jason walked over to them and crossed his arms with a playful smile.

“What’s going on guys?”

“You can ride horses too?”

“Yep.”

“Let me guess, someone taught you when you were traveling?”

“Oh yeah. I stayed with a nice family in Mongolia. They taught me how to ride horses. They also showed me how to shear sheep.”

“Jesus Jason. Anything else you can do that we don’t know?”

“Eh probably. But I’ll let you figure it out later.” Jason said as he put his hands in his pocket. Damian was staring at the horse with wide eyes,

“What’s his name?”

“Shade.”

“I love him.”

“I know you do Dami.”

“Father-”

“No Damian.”

“TT.”

The Waynes joined the Kent’s for dinner that night, when they finished dinner the Waynes headed to the car.

“How did you get here Jay?” Tim asked as he opened the car door.

“My bike.”

“You wanna come with us? It’s late.”

“I’ll be fine dad. I’ll see you guys at the manor?” Bruce nodded

“Oh yeah. We still gotta do movie tonight.”

“Damn. I forgot about that.”

3-Hair Braiding

“Ow! Dick be careful!” Stephanie winced as Dick pulled her hair.

“Sorry, Steph! I’m not really good at braiding.”

“You don’t say.”

Jason watched them from the doorway fixing his tie.

“Move out of the way Dickie.” Jason all but pushed Dick away from Steph,

“What are you doing Jay?” Stephanie asked Jason as he gathered the middle of her hair,

“Your hair has bee brushed right?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Jason split the hair into three sections and crossed the right section under the middle one. He took a thin section of her hair and added it to the right section before crossing it under the middle one. He did the same thing with the left side and kept doing it until he reached the nape of Steph’s neck, when he got to her nape he did a standard braid and loosened the outer strands of the braid to make it seem fuller.

“There.” Jason took a step back and looked at his work with a proud smile.

“Oh my god! I love it!” Steph squealed happily as she turned and wrapped her arms around Jason in a hug.

“Let me guess...traveling?” Dick said with a smirk. Jason laughed

“Oh yeah. I stayed with a woman in the Netherlands who really liked to braid hair, she should me how to do it.”

“Thank you so much, Jay!”

“I’m glad you do Steph. I gotta finish getting ready for the Gala.” He turned around and walked out of the room leaving Steph and Dick to talk about her hairstyle.

4-Makeup

Jason headed to his room after he left Steph and Dick when he overheard Tim and Cass,

“I’m sorry Cass, I’m not really good at makeup that’s not...cover up.” Jason looked in Cass’s room. Cass was sitting in front of her vanity mirror while Tim was brushing her hair. Cass pouted a bit.

“Need help with some make-up Cassy?” Tim and Cass looked over at Jason,

“Yes.”

“What look were you hoping for?” She pointed to a picture in a magazine. Red and yellow mixed eyeshadow, butterfly looking hairclips, and matte pink lipstick. Jason nodded and got to work. He blended the red and yellow eyeshadow in the middle to make it orange, he used eyeliner and mascara. Once he finished her eye makeup he put her matte pink lipstick,

“And you’re done.” Cass smiled at the reflection and then hugged Jason,

“Thank you.”

“No problem Cassy.”

“I’m not even gonna ask where you picked that up.”

“Believe it or not. Talia showed me how to do makeup.”

“I don’t believe it.” Tim said as he grabbed his suit jacket off of Cass’s dresser,

“So, you ready for the Gala Jay?”

“I guess.” With that, the three siblings walked downstairs to meet their dad for the Gala.

5-Belly Dancing

Dick really never expected to find Jason in the dance studio as an instructor. A Belly Dancing instructor. Dick, Cass, Steph, Tim, and Damian watched from the class door watching as Jason told the class what they were going to do.

“Firstly we are going to make a big outer hip circle.” He said as he moved his hips in a big circle,

“Our pelvic region is gonna stay in neutral, as we push and shift our weight from toes, heels, and the edges of our feet. As you can see I’m pushing my hips in a nice big counter-clockwise circle and making sure I keep it all equal. How far I go forward is how far I go backward. It probably won’t come naturally to any of you, but why not give it a try.” Jason watched the class as they tried to copy Jason.

“Heather, don’t sway your hips like that. Keep it natural not club dancing. Good job Keira. A tip is to try and keep your pant line even with the floor. Don’t tip a hip up. Keep your spine straight guys. Don’t bend and don’t go so big you lose your balance.” He said as he kept making his hips go in a circle.

“....I think we should leave Jason to his class.”

“...I’m having him teach me this.”

“Dick no.”

“Dick yes.” Tim grabbed Dicks’s ear and the siblings walked out of the dance studio and away from Jason. Tim needed bleach in his eyes to get rid of the image of Jason moving his hips like that. It was not something he ever wanted to see. From Damian’s reaction, he agrees with Tim.

+1-The family surprises him

Jason yawned as he made his way up to the main door to the manor, he didn’t bother to knock. He just pushed opened the door, he took one step in and saw his family all trying to belly dance.

“What in the..”

“Ah, Master Jason. Would you like some tea?” Alfred walked up to him with a tray of tea

“W..what’s going on?” Jason asked as he looked in horror as Bruce tried to sway his hips,

“It seems Master Dick wanted the family night to be used to learn Belly Dancing.”

“...Can I go to the kitchen...I don’t need to see Bruce swaying his hips anymore…”

“Of course.” Jason walked into the kitchen, for the second time that night he froze. Talia and Selina were sitting at the table drinking coffee and talking. Like friends.

“He came from nowhere and said ‘I’m Batman.’ Like it was supposed to mean something to me at the time.” Selina said as she took a sip of her coffee. Talia laughed and looked over at Jason.

“Habibi, come sit with us.” Jason smiled and walked over to the table and sat with the two women.

“So, we’re talking shit about Bruce?”

“Of course we are.”

#5+1 #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #Batfam #Stephanie Brown #Damian Wayne #Tim Drake #Cassandra Cain #Bruce Wayne #The Kents #Talia Al Ghul

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zecuddlyblumedic · 6 years ago

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Soup with soul

Blue-gray eyes scanned the table in front of him. A myriad of objects and things were strewn about its surface, all lined up, all set up nice and proper and in a perfect little line: sacks of flour, a sack of cane sugar, an array of measuring cups and teaspoons, a rolling pin, a bottle or two of pure extracts...

A gentle sigh escaped him as he donned his cooking apron.

Abelärd was a whimsical soul. A real romantic who loved this time of year. It was a time of festivities and gatherings, of people coming together under the unified banner of love and peace. Foolish notions perhaps. But he was happy being a foolish old man with foolish notions.

He loved the joyous change in the air. He loved the cozy corners of rooms where one could retreat to and read a book. He loved the gentle lilting sound of music coming from the radio. He loved the smell of baked goods-- of cookies and challah-- heavy in the air. The sharp, comforting earthy sting to the nostrils of freshly ground cinnamon. A warm mug of tea in his hands, radiating warmth up his numbed fingertips.

He cooked and baked for a variety of reasons. To feed his loved ones, to feed the base. To pass time, of course. To make sure people ate a good, healthy, hearty meal and acquired a much needed boost of vitamins during the cold season. But, mostly, it because he enjoyed it. It made him happy. Not as much as painting a portrait, or sketching one’s likeness in charcoal, but he liked doing it, almost as much. And he enjoyed cooking because he was good at it. He made some of the best, heartiest stews, soups and meals you could ever imagine. His twin brother, Aldous, was always the better one when it came to baking. Aldous was a virtuoso when it came to concocting confectionery wonders.

He cooked kosher foods and non-kosher (seeing as how most at the base did not follow kosher requirements). He cooked with dietary needs in mind (he was a doctor; he had medical files on everyone on his base, including allergies and things they had to stay away from). He made vegetarian dishes. He made dishes for those who loved meat. He made dishes for those who were lactose intolerant, or gluten sensitive. No matter what he made, everything had one common link: it was made with love.

Today he had emerged from his infirmary, leaving his half-finished paperwork behind. He needed a break from his job. What better way to take a break than bake a little goodness? Stir in a little happiness? Give something to someone, feed them, spread a few smiles around. Pass on the love and care that this world so desperately needed.

His cookbook was placed off to the side, numerous multi-colored tabs marking each type of dish, side dish and dessert. Today he settled on a good classic meal: a basic potato soup with homemade bread on the side. The soup would be nice and creamy, heavy enough to stick with someone most of the day. Kosher, but with enough taste to keep one coming back for more. And for dessert, he’d make an apple cake, a closely guarded recipe passed down from none other than his own mother.

His base would be eating good tonight.

He diligently cut the potatoes into cubed chunks, diced onions set aside in a bowl. Music drifted lazily through the air; the radio station was running a series of Christmas-based music all day. A bit too early for the Medic’s tastes, but he wasn’t about to complain. Complaining did nothing. Only made one’s blood pressure rise.

A warbling coo caused him to momentarily pause. As he was reaching for the salt, he glanced over at the sack of flour. Engel, his beloved mourning dove, had taken roost on a canister of pre-ground nuts. The tiny pigeon had fluffed up its feathers, making it look nice and plump. Contentedly it watched the Medic, its beady little eyes blinking, the smear of blue around its eyes looking like a swath of expertly applied mascara.

“Ah, look at you,” he murmured softly in his native language. “Coming to watch your papa make some food for the team?”

“Coo-wooough, ooh, ooh.”

“It’s funny,” he went on, his smile becoming increasingly nostalgic with each passing moment, “cooking makes me remember mother. She used to cook for us all the time. Sang while she stirred the soup. Hummed while she tenderized the meat. She was always having a song in her heart.”

The plump little mourning dove craned his head a bit, looking up at the human who not only was its owner and caretaker, but, in a strange way...

“And,” Abelärd continued, picking up the cutting board before taking it over to a pot, soup base set to a low boil, “she loved making soup.” He slid the cubes of potato in, watching them bob up and down from the heat of the cream. “She said it was her favorite thing to make. That she loved making soup with soul.”

“Coo-wooo...”

“Admittedly, I didn’t understand what she meant. Even after our father died, and she taught us how to cook on our own, for the family... I didn’t understand it.” Picking up the dish of cut onions, he added that. “It wasn’t until I was older did I understand.”

In a calm, gentle voice he told a story to the content little mourning dove, softly cooing in the warmth of the kitchen. He told the bird of a mother’s love. Giselle Johanna Haswell, that was her name. And she made sure no one went without a meal.

Meißen was a nice tightly-knit community when he was a kid. A merger of French influence and German heritage. The streets were calm enough, and there wasn’t much trouble to be had. The Haswells weren’t a rich family, nor were they a poor one. A meager middle-ground. They made do. They had a garden out back where most of their fresh vegetables came from. They pooled together what money they had for the week to get fresh meat at a deal. Whatever they didn’t use right away, they canned or cured for later. It was a nice little existence.

Still, there was sadness on the street they lived on. There were two families who were worse off than they. The epitome of poor at the time. The children of those two families ran around in patched up rags. Dirty faces and scraped knees. They often went without food. The parents worked long, hard hours. Shivering in the cold of a factory building, barely able to make ends meet, blistered feet and worn out shoes with holes.

Abelärd remembered when their father, Friedrich Walfried Haswell, died. He fell ill when they were six, and died shortly after their seventh birthday. For the months following the family mourned. So stricken with grief was Giselle that she didn’t leave her bed for what seemed to be weeks.

One day, on her many trips out to try to get a fresh of breath air in her constant state of mourning, Giselle came across the children of the two families. She saw them stealing from the local marketplace, stuffing fruit into their pockets. They managed the steal the fruit without being caught, and she quietly followed them to see what they’d do.

She witnessed the children pooling together their goods, making sure each kid had an equal amount to take home.

Her heart, as she had told her children, felt as if it were being torn into pieces, and she felt grief anew. Not for her husband, but for the children who, so hungry were they, were stealing food for each other, for their families.

“After that,” Abelärd recounted, stirring in the rest of the ingredients, “she made it her purpose to make the world a better place. She returned to cooking, and she found a renewed sense of passion in it.”

“Cooo...”

“She taught us how to cook, and we often made big batches of food. Meals that we three could not eat by ourselves. I often went over with my brother to deliver the rest of our food, giving our ‘leftovers’ to the two families in need.” His expression softened, becoming sympathetically somber. “And I will never forget,” he murmured softly, “the gratefulness in the way they smiled. The tears in their eyes. The way the children hopped around their parents, excited to get some soup.”

And then it struck him. Abelärd ceased his stirring, and he looked down at the soup he was making. He hadn’t used a small pot, or a medium one. He had used the largest one he found, making the biggest batch he could. Of course he made food for the base and his loved ones-- he always had. But he never realized why he did it, the natural desire to do so. The realization now dawned on him, like the cresting sunrise over snow capped mountains-- sparkling, crystalline, clear.

He was picking up where his mother left off. He was making soup with soul.

“...Cooo...”

“...yes, yes. Of course. I didn’t forget you!”

Turning his attention back to the plump little mourning dove, he moved away from the pot, letting it simmer for a bit. With a merry twinkle in his eye, he picked up a bit of freshly baked bread. He pinched a bit off of it, rewarding his little dove for being oh so patient during that story.

Watching the hungry little bird gobble it up, bobbing its head in delight, the man couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement.

“Such a patient little child. Did you enjoy the story?”

“Coo-woooh... ooo, oo, ooo...”

“Good.”

Wiping his scarred hands off on a dishtowel, he gave the bird a fond little pat before returning to the soup. He was going to make the best soup he could, and he was going to make sure everyone was going to leave that dining hall full and happy.

...Maybe he’d save some of it aside, in a bowl, and take it over to his brother later on. He was sure his brother would enjoy it. After all, with the family recipe, it was sure to be a trip down memory lane.

Abelärd knew how much Aldous still missed their mother.

#writing featuring Abel #writing featuring Abelard #ic #November Challenge Drabble

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thehooliganhangoutspot · 7 years ago

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You wouldn't believe how many label presidents I've heard say, 'Bruno doesn't have what it takes, we don't know how to market him, we don't know what kind of music he does.' You know, 'Who's this beige-looking kid with curly hair? We can't figure him out.' It was devastating. Bruno Mars, 2011 FROM THE ARCHIVES: Caught in Mars' orbit Caught in Mars' orbit The sky's the limit for this Grammy nominee and his cohorts. February 06, 2011|Matt Diehl In early September 2010, Bruno Mars found himself sitting in the posh lounge of North Hollywood's Larrabee Studios, a high-tech temple designed for creating pop-music smashes. Platinum discs from artists who've recorded there line Larrabee's walls, and in an adjoining room, renowned mix engineer Manny Marroquin rushed to complete the 25-year-old singer-songwriter-producer's debut album, "Doo-Wops & Hooligans," due out less than a month later. Marroquin's Midas touch is legendary, blessing hits for Alicia Keys, Rihanna and Usher, among others; in his short career, Mars' ability to create pop blockbusters is proving similarly gilded. At this point, Mars had already helped write and produce chart-toppers for artists such as B.o.B, Flo Rida, Cee Lo Green and Travie McCoy; as a solo artist, Mars' first single, the stirring ballad "Just the Way You Are," was midway through its chart ascent. By early October, that song would reach the No. 1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100, attaining triple-platinum status; "Doo-Wops" would also eventually crest at No. 3 in the U.S. and top charts internationally. But Mars didn't know this back in September: Despite the hit-making firepower backing him, he was nervous. His label, Elektra, was preparing to follow up "Just the Way You Are" with a soulful power-pop ditty called "Grenade," and Mars exuded anxiety about its reception: "What's 'Grenade' compared with 'Just the Way You Are'? I'm crossing my fingers, hoping people dig it." They did, demonstrated by Mars' seven Grammy nominations in 2011, second only to Eminem's 10. "Grenade" would also top the charts, making him the only male solo artist to do so with his first two singles. "Hearing Bruno on the radio for the first time is almost like discovering the pre-pubescent Michael Jackson," says McCoy, whose 2010 hit single "Billionaire" was a Mars collaboration. "Bruno is poised to be one of the next generation's greats," notes Green, whose Grammy-nominated hit "[Forget] You" was co-written and produced by Mars and his production team the Smeezingtons. "I'm feeling like a winner right now, sir -- I'm not going to lie!" Mars exclaimed in a recent phone interview between European tour stops. "But I'm still crossing my fingers about the Grammys. They stay crossed: I tend to overthink things. I'm not the guy who screams 'This is a world smash!' when I finish a song." The Grammy Awards take place next Sunday at Staples Center. Indeed, although "Just the Way You Are" was nominated for best pop vocal performance alongside John Mayer and Michael Jackson, Mars seems more excited by his collaborations. "I'm fortunate to work with guys like Cee Lo and B.o.B," he says. "'Nothin' on You' by B.o.B was the first song where I heard myself on the radio. I'd been trying my whole career to write a song like that, which incorporates live instruments with hip-hop and singing." And Green's 2006 hit as part of Gnarls Barkley, "Crazy," captured Mars' imagination: "It epitomized what I wanted to achieve: a song that would be played on pop stations, on hip-hop stations, on rock stations -- just because it was good." (At the 2011 Grammy Awards ceremony, Mars will perform with B.o.B and another crossover success of last year, Janelle Monae.) Mars' voice and production style -- blending classic soul, reggae-tinged grooves suggesting the Police and Sublime, OutKast's iconoclastic hip-hop and Sade's smooth internationalism -- have become pop radio's dominant sound. "Bruno's songs have no boundaries," says John Ivey, program director for the influential top-40 radio station, KIIS-FM. "No one in the past year has had hits as varied. When we first heard 'Just the Way You Are,' it was a little shocking. We'd assumed he was a hip-hop artist, and all of a sudden he's Billy Joel!" Born to a Puerto Rican father and Filipino mother (his birth name is Peter Hernandez), Mars grew up in Hawaii, playing in his family's cover band, the Love Notes. By age 4, he was performing onstage as "the world's youngest Elvis impersonator," and appeared in the film "Honeymoon in Vegas," where he sang "Can't Help Falling in Love." Mars attributes his unique sound to this multicultural upbringing. "Honolulu is a melting pot," he explains. "Melody is everywhere you go. Kids would come to school with guitars and ukuleles on their back, and we'd all jam at lunch." At age 18, he'd moved to L.A., quickly scoring a solo deal with Motown; within a couple years, however, that deal soured. "You wouldn't believe how many label presidents I've heard say, 'Bruno doesn't have what it takes, we don't know how to market him, we don't know what kind of music he does,' " Mars says. "You know, 'Who's this beige-looking kid with curly hair? We can't figure him out.' It was devastating." In L.A., Mars associated with future stars Ne-Yo, Kesha and Kanye West collaborator Jeff Bhasker (with whom Mars performed in a cover band called Sex Panther) as each waited for their big break. "Ne-Yo was one of the first people I saw write a song," Mars recalls. "He'd make something that sounded like a hit record within an hour -- I couldn't believe it. Kesha and I were signed to the same management; we'd call each other up and see what the other was working on, which was usually nothing." To keep his dreams afloat, by 2007 Mars had hooked up with two other young music-industry hopefuls: Philip Lawrence, a singer and songwriter, and sound engineer Ari Levine. "Bruno was a cool, normal dude, but even years ago, when he played his music, it was incredible -- a no-brainer,' " Levine recalls. Working out of Levine's LevCon Studios, set in a ramshackle cottage between a Laundromat and a medical mari- juana doctor on a seedy Hollywood side street, the trio honed their songwriting and production skills as a means of survival. "We worked long and hard in this little shack, hoping just to pay rent and have someone listen to our songs," Lawrence says. Calling themselves the Smeezingtons -- "We'd say a song was going to be a smash, which turned into a 'smeeze,' which turned into a 'smeezington,'" Mars clarifies -- the group developed its distinctive mode. "We're that weird middle ground, where there's live instruments but it's still rhythmic and pop," Levine says. "I'll listen to the Strokes or Black Keys, while Phil can sing any Motown song." "I'm the Nickelodeon version of DangerMouse," Mars adds. He says he's a fan of simple songs "that stand the test of time: 'Just the Way You Are' was inspired by songs like 'Wonderful Tonight' and 'Nothing Compares 2 U.' Writing for other artists helped me figure out that magic you have to capture to make everyone connect with a song." "Bruno is extremely talented, and not formulaic -- and that goes equally for all the Smeezingtons," notes Green (who says he was offered "Just the Way You Are" and holds other unreleased, single-quality gems from their sessions together). Undeniably, Mars' Grammy success represents an equal triumph for the Smeezingtons, nominated in the producer of the year category. The Smeezingtons began writing for the likes of Kn'aan, Matisyahu and Brandy, but their first big hit proved the hook for Flo Rida's "Right Round," catching the attention of Atlantic/Elektra's Senior Director of A&R Aaron Bay-Schuck. "Bruno came in with his guitar and it was love at first sight," Bay-Schuck says. "Among the songs he had were 'Billionaire' and 'Nothin' on You,' which sealed the deal." "Every song Bruno and his team had was a smash," adds John Janick, co-president of Elektra Records. "Immediately, we had to sign him. They were doing something different, creating their own sound." -- Making headlines The Smeezingtons' run continues beyond Mars' solo success: the group produced R&B singer Mike Posner's upcoming single, Flo Rida's current hit "Who's Dat Girl," and much of Koreatown pop group Far East Movement's recent debut album. The anonymity of Mars' studio work has been upended by his pop-star status and some headline-grabbing events, however: He recently took a plea deal on cocaine possession charges after an arrest in Las Vegas last September; coincidentally, he entered his guilty plea right as "Grenade" topped the charts. Although he declined to comment on the Vegas incident, he has quickly become aware of the trappings of celebrity. "I have to be a little more cautious about my surroundings," he says. "I'll be eating breakfast at a hotel, having just rolled out of bed -- without realizing people are filming me with flip cams and cellphones. In that way, life has changed, but that's not that bad. Everything I've ever wanted, I have right now." This past December, Mars, who still lives in L.A., headlined the Blaisdell Center, a 7,000-seat venue in his Honolulu hometown, and all that's happened came into perspective for him. "I'd done arena shows," he says, "but this was my first ticket that said 'Bruno Mars' at the top. The show sold out, but all I could think about was how close I came to giving up before 'Nothin on You' hit. I live for this. The best part is, it's just the beginning. I still have so much room to grow; I'm learning something new every day." According to KIIS-FM's Ivey, he does have it all: Mars' triple-threat status as a performer, songwriter and producer puts him into an elite echelon that appeals to Grammy voters. "Kanye West, Diddy, Prince, Jack White -- these are just music guys who can do it all, and really well," Ivey says. "I'm anxious to see where he goes: We need to hear more to determine what he is. But the sky's the limit in terms of potential. If this is the way he starts off -- man, there's no telling what this guy could be." "Bruno's still a work in progress," Green says. "Life isn't shaped as a pop song. He needs to go deeper, try harder, but that's his ambition: Soon he's going to win in that area, too, and be whole." -- [email protected] ............................................................................................................. In honor of Bruno's birthday, the LA times posted an old throwback article about Bruno from when he was just starting out. It's inspiring to see how far he's come despite the obstacles he's faced. I'm so proud of him. ❤️❤️❤️

#Link #submission

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