#my son egg and his brother cheese except i love them both

[cherrhara]

mirrors

[dahliadrawthings]

⚜  Florence de Chartres  ⚜

I love Florence but I rarely talk about her so now it’s time to do it, haha. (I used this blank template).

Basic Information

Full name: Florence de Chartres. But it used to be Florence Éloise Aline Trevelyan. Pronunciation: She/her, They/Them. Nickname(s) or Alias: Flo, Firefly, Dimples. Gender: Female. Species: Half-elven Age: She was born in 9:12 Dragon, she’s 29 at the beginning of Inquisition. Birthday: 1st Pluitanis (February) ♒︎ Sexuality: Pansexual Nationality: Free Marcher Religion: Andrastian City or town of birth: Ostwick Currently lives: Skyhold Languages spoken: Orlesian, Tevene, Antivan. Native language: Common language. Relationship Status: In a relationship with Cullen Rutherford.

Physical Appereance

Height: 178 cm Weight: ~ 90 kg Figure/build: She is tall and has a muscular body. Wide shoulders and wide hips.

Hair colour: It’s dark brown, in certain lighting it almost looks black. She also has a strip of bone white piece on the front. Hairstyle: She usually wears her hair in a messy bun at the nape of her neck, or braids it while traveling. She rarely lets her wavy hair down. Eye colour: Her left eye is dark brown, her right eye is goldish-auburn. Skin colour: Medium olive skintone with warm undertone. Tattoos: Chest - upside down rose with a snake coiling around it. Piercings: Only in her ears. Scars/distinguishing marks: She has a beauty spot under her left eye. She has small scars on her knuckles, on her feet. She also has an arrow scar on her left side, under her breast. Preferred style of clothing: She likes to wear simple clothes whenever she can, however she loves her armours. And she’d never admit it, but her elegant clothes are her favourites also, she adores the motives on each pieces. (For the motives and clothes I take inspiration from my culture and what the hungarian nobles used to wear.) Frequently worn jewellery/accessories: Earrings! She’s obsessed with it. Her favourite is in her left ear usually, it’s a small sword.

Health

Drinker? She only drinks sweet wines and honey beers. Addictions: None. She never got to the point where she’d be addicted to lyrium. Allergies: Pollen. Any medication regularly taken: She takes lyrium potion when she’s tired and uses too much magic. But that’s al pretty much.

Personality

Personality: She’s very chill, not many thing can get her angry. But she’s a perfectionist and it can make her stressed when things don’t go as she planned. She’s friend and family oriented, she wants to spend as much time as possible with them. She’s also creative and open to mind new things in life. Likes: Sunrise, cold weather, the smell of rain, cuddles, spending time with her loved ones, taking care of her horse, use magic for good cause, helping others, savory and sour food/candy, spicy food/drink, flowers. Dislikes: Too hot weather, too sweet food, loud noises, people who can’t respect their boundaries. Fears/phobias: Losing her loved ones. deep water, thunder. Favourite colour: Beige, blue, red, gold and white. Hobbies: Riding, sewing, reading, training with others and practicing her magic. Taste in music: She loves every kind of music that makes her feel any emotion, or just makes her want to dance. Her favourite is Maryden’s tavern songs.

SKILLS

Talents/skills: Because of her noble origin she was taught what a lady should know. She can dance, sing, sew, she knows the etiquette. She knows how to fight thanks to the Templar Order, and she also knows how to use her magic because of the Circle of Magi. She also knows how to garden. Ability to drive a car? Well, she can definitely ride horses.

EATING HABITS

Omnivore/Carnivore/Herbivore (Vegetarian): She’s not a picky eater, she eats anything as long as it tastes good. Favourite food(s): Wyvern Stake, Nug-Nug, Gnocchi, Chicken wings, cheeses, Caviar, Bread. Favourite drink(s): A Night of Shame, Agregio Pavali, coffee, tea, The Golden Nug, Spiced Wine. Disliked food(s): Fluffy Mackerel Pudding, Fish Chowder, Jellied Eels, Jellied Pigs Feet, Picked Eggs. Disliked drink(s): Coconut Draft, Dark Llomerryn Rum, Lichen Ale, The Emerald Valley.

HOUSE AND HOME

Describe the character's house/home: The Trevelyan castle is huge in size. The castle is surrounded by a forest and a well-kept garden. Florence’s room was on the east side of the second floor so she could see the sunrise. Her room was always tidy and had fresh flowers in it. She collected books and small daggers. She didn’t have much decoration in there. Her room in Skyhold is not so different from her Ostwick one. However it’s much bigger, has more decoration like rugs, paintings, potted flowers she can take care of. She also got a lot more books. Do they share their home with anyone? Who? Sometimes Leliana’s birds visit her, but she only share it with her dog and Cullen. Significant/special belongings: She has an old Trevelyan family portrait which she treasures a lot.

CAREER

Level of education: She’s highly educated. She had many teacher in Ostwick, then in the Circle of Magi and in the Templar Order. She was a Knight-Captain when she left the Order.

COMBAT

Peaceful or aggressive attitude? She has a peaceful and calm attitude in combat. She knows just how to move to defeat her enemy. Fighting skills/techniques: She has the Champion specialization. Special skills/magical powers/etc: She was taught of the Knight-Enchanter specialization. Weapon of choice (if any): The sword she got from her father, and spirit blade. Weaknesses in combat: She tires herself out faster when she uses magic. Strengths in combat: She’s fast and skillful.

FAMILY AND FRIENDS

Parents names: Colette and Marcel Trevelyan Are parents alive or dead? Both of them are alive! Is the character still in contact with their parents? Yes! Florence adores her parents. She writes letters whenever she can for them. Siblings? Relationship with siblings? She has two older brothers, Marcellus and Adrien. Florence loves both of them, but she has a better relationship with Adrien who lives in the Circle of Magi and taught her many things. Other Important Relatives: Philliam Bernard Alocious Trevelyan, he is most known as Philliam, a Bard! Partner/Spouse: Cullen Rutherford ♡ Children: None... yet! Best Friend: Dorian. They have been friends since they were kids. Other Important Friends: Everybody who is part of her “little” group. Except Solas, she isn’t friends with him. Pets: She has a lot of mabari(5) back in the Free Marches. Her parents sends her pack to the Inquisition. Two male (Amos, Nico) and three female (Bean, Dana, Mila).

BACKSTORY

Describe their childhood (newborn - age 10): She was a very small baby and often sick. However she “grow out” of it and was healthy most of the time. Her mother was suspicious she had magic in her when she saw her different coloured eyes - Florence’s brother has it too - and soon her suspicion was confirmed. At the age of 6 Florence set on fire one of their rugs. After that they hired the best scholars and asked help from the Circle of Magi to keep this a secret. Their son, Adrien was on his way to be part of the Circle, they didn’t want to loose their daughter also. it helped for a while. Describe their  teenage years (11 - 19): Florence was a very good student. Her teachers always praised her. She was smart and learned everything very faster than other children they taught in the past. Around the age of 13 the bone white strip in her hair appears slowly. It takes almost a month to it to get like that colour in that whole piece. Her parents gets more concerned while Florence loves it. This is the time when she first meets with the Pavus family from Tevinter. Her parents visited them in the past, and wanted to welcome the family in their home like the Pavus did. Florence meets with Dorian for the first time and they become friends. At the age of 17 her parents decide to send Florence to the Templars and not to the mages. Florence accepts their decision, and agree to leave as soon as possible. But before that she changes her family name. She becomes Florence de Chartres. Dorian and Florence writes to each other even when she’s with the Order. Describe their adult years (20+): She works very hard in the Order. She had basic knowledge of fighting with sword and other things, but she enjoys learning more with other teachers and being surrounded by different people. She also sneaks away from time to time to meet with her brother, Adrian. She isn’t far away from the tower where her brother is. He teaches her more magic, and shows her how to wield a spirit blade. At the age of 27 she’s choosen as Knight- Captain, she oversees the mages in the Circle where Adrian is. She’s kind to the mages, and they appreciate it. She enjoys those years in the Circle as a templar. A few years later she leaves the Order when her parents request her presence. When she arrives to the castle in Ostwick, the family asks her to leave for the Conclave with other relatives.

[herb-whump]

Summer Job

I'm dying its 2 am god help me

Taglist: @albino-whumpee @torture-as-lovely-as-you

Let me know if you want to be tagged in other stories than Don't get far away Precious or not cause i do not know shit about taglists

CW/ manipulation and abuse mentions and threats, slight rape mention

Mikołaj went to sleep finally, squeezing himself next to the mattress on the hard floor. It wasn't pleasant, and he always woke up a little cranky afterward.

- Honey. - A familiar voice woke him up for good. It was his mom, softly smiling at him - I made breakfast... it's not much but you still gotta eat something.

- Okay... - Mikołaj sighed, blushing a bit. His mom still treated him like a little boy sometimes.

He sat down at the table next to his little brother. There wasn't much for breakfast. Some buns bought on the end of the day sale, with cheese and tomatoes, and cheap black tea to drink. Mikołaj looked down at the cup, the water was muddy, it wasn't of the best quality around these parts of the city.

- thank you, mom... For the breakfast - he smiled a little and the woman nodded. - I have to go to work soon so I probably won't eat a lot.

- But it's Sunday, I thought you would stay home today. - Magda frowned - You already work too hard during the week. You should get some rest.

- I was hoping we would go hang out today...! - his brother pouted, not happy.

- Mom, Tymek, I have to, and it's not a big job either. I will try to be back sooner today, I promise.

Magda wouldn't push her son anymore to stay, so she just sighed with a pained expression.

He ate one bun and drank the tea as fast as he could. Got a change of clothes and left the house, with a simple "I love you" while leaving. A man from another block of flats said he will pay him for repairing his shower. The man was an acquaintance of his. While they weren't friends, they talked a bit, and Mikołaj accidentally confessed to having this dire situation with money.

He knocked on the front door, to soon be greeted by the man. His name was Josef, and he was a middle-aged man, with short brown hair and round glasses. A kind face and from what Mikołaj could gather, he was a father to two kids, and after a divorce.

- Here you are! I was waiting for you. - Josef chuckled softly and invited the boy inside, showing him what was wrong with the shower, which Mikołaj started working on almost immediately - You know Miko, You need quick money right?

- Yeah, kinda... - Mikołaj bit his lip. - stupid shower head...

- Listen here, I know this guy, he has a work agency. He mostly hires young strong men like you, you work abroad, and earn much more this way. Usually only for about a month or two.

- w-wait really? - Mikołaj stopped for a bit. It sounded... A little shady to say the least. But he did worse things and if a kind father is recommending this, maybe it's actually a good opportunity. - Can you give me the guy's number? I will call him today if I can.

- Sure thing Miko. - The man smiled.

After finally fixing the shower, Josef wrote down the man's number on a piece of paper, paid Mikołaj, and sent him home. But before he returned to his mom and brother, the boy sat down at a secluded bench in the local park. He stared intensely at the number Josef wrote down. He was still debating if he should call it. But he didn't have many options at this point. He slowly put the number in his phone and rang.

- Good evening, how can I help you? - the voice belonged to a young woman, it was calm and soft.

- Uhm... Good evening. I've heard of job offerings in this agency. My friend, Josef recommended I call.

- Ah! Yes, yes! Of course! So you will need to send us your resume and talk in person of course - The woman explained everything

Except what the job abroad actually was. But Mikołaj didn't think much of it. If it made money and wasn't prostitution, he was in.

It was some time for the in-person meeting to happen, but it wasn't at all what the boy had imagined.

The man sitting before him was not much older than Mikołaj himself, 30 at most, but Mikołaj gave him 26. He had dark black messy hair, medium length. Brown eyes and wore sunglasses on his head. Golden chains on his neck and other expensive jewelry. He looked rich, to say the least. Not to mention the place of the meeting. Almost empty office room, in a freshly built business complex. Most of the spaces in it were just put out to be rented.

- Hi Mikołaj. - The man spoke up with a giggly, yet deep voice - You can call me Vasya. You're just going to sign those papers and you're hired for the month. If all goes well maybe we will hire you for a month more. - He slid a few papers on the table.

- N-no questions? I thought this was an interview... I mean don't get me wrong please, I'm just really surprised. - He chuckled nervously, slowly looking down at the papers.

- No questions. I think your resume said enough and just from looking at you, I think you will be a great fit. We need healthy, strong young men. It will be a physically taxing job but you wrote you did many jobs like that.

- I guess... - With shaky hands he took the papers in his hands, trying to comprehend what he was actually signing. But seeing the pay, stated at the end was enough to make him stop reading, and just take the pen. He signed it, never asking any more questions. This much money will get them a better flat and food for sure.

Even if the job was gross or heavily taxing, he will bear it. It's only a month, right? And if it's great, he can work for two months. That would secure their life for a long time.

He came back home with the news and a smile on his face. He burst through the door and hugged his mom tight

- O-oh dear! You got the job I presume. - his mom laughed and tousled his hair with a gentle expression. - I'm just sad you're going to be gone for a month or two.

- Mikołaj! So you're going? Is.. it bad I kinda hoped you wouldn't? You go out every day almost...

- I'm sorry Tymek. I really am. I promise after I come back, we're going to move to a nice place and I'm gonna spend much more time with you. - Mikołaj smiled softly, trying to comfort his little brother.

- I suppose... But you really promise, right? - he noded - Okay. Please call us every day though!

- I will. They will come to pick me up by bus the day after tomorrow, so I have to start packing soon. - the brown-haired boy hugged them both again and went to the other side of the room to search for a bag to pack.

The departure day came soon. It was a warm June morning, Mikołaj was standing at a bus stop near his house, waiting for the work bus to come. Clutching his bag in his hand, he looked up at the bus stop screen for the time. It was a little late, but when he looked away from the clock, the bus was coming from the other street. It stopped and opened its door.

- Mr. Kasperczyk? - The bus driver looked at him suspiciously - Show your ID

- Sure. - Mikołaj nodded and showed his ID, the driver promptly inviting him on board.

He walked into the bus, full of young men, probably not much older than himself. Some sat alone, sulking or sleeping, some laughed together in pairs. Seems normal enough. Mikołaj sat down in an empty seat and tired, pressed his head between the window and the seat, slowly falling asleep, still clutching his bag.

He slept through the whole journey, only the familiar face of Vasya, seemingly his new boss, waking him up.

- Wakey wakey sleepy-head. You all have to settle in your rooms. - He smiled. He had a charming aspect to his demeanor, but it kind of made Mikołaj uneasy. He nodded and stood up.

He wasn't sure how he was supposed to treat Vasya, so he'd rather avoid him.

- I will visit all of you in the evening after dinner, okay? - Vasya waved them goodbye and jumped right back into the bus. Was he on it the whole time and Mikołaj didn't notice? Maybe.

The boy looked around. The building was clearly a worker hotel but didn't look too cheap. It looked cozy, and the receptionist informed them they had all separate rooms. She also gave them the keys, and information regarding breakfast and dinner hours. It was all provided for. Mikołaj got a room on the second floor. He opened the wooden door, to see a comfortable-looking room, it was small, smaller than their already small flat but it was more than enough for him. The bed had a birch wooden frame, it was made, and covered with a soft beige blanket. Next to it was a big window and a nightstand, and a wardrobe, all made from birch to fit with the bed. The bathroom was also private. the door was on the right of the entrance, it was also pretty tiny, but it had a shower, toilet, and a sink, all relatively clean, so what more could he ask for?

Mikołaj put the bag down next to the bed and sent a quick text to his mom that he got there safely, and first taking off his shoes, he laid down on the bed. It was soft... and so comfortable. He cracked a little smile, he will buy a similar bed for himself when he gets back for sure. No more back pain and cranky mornings. He could lay in this bed for an eternity... almost forgetting what he was actually here for. Work. Physical work at that.

He rolled around on the bed until dinner time came around. It was probably the first time in forever he would eat an actual dinner, usually, it was just lunch, sometimes breakfast. The boy jumped from the bed and stretched a little.

- Foood... - He smiled, his belly growling from just a thought.

The dining room was pretty small, for sure all of the workers from the bus did not end up in the same hotels. He looked around. The tables were for two, max five people, and it was a buffet. A buffet... all you can eat one. Ah, how he wished it was like this every day at home. Or that at least he could share with his family but alas.

The buffet tables were filled with food, it wasn't the most expensive kind, but it made mikołaj salivate at the mere thought. Sausages, bread and a toaster for it, tomatoes, cucumbers, eggs, and different jams, cereals, and porridge, fresh fruit, coffee, tea...  It was a feast for Mikołaj, and afterward, he returned to his room, full, completely forgetting the visit from Vasya was supposed to happen. So he was relaxing in his room until a knock snapped him out of the light mood.

- Yes?

- It's me. I said I'd come. - It was the man's voice, giggly as always. Mikołaj opened the door and let him in. - You probably want to know what is the job right. - he chuckled a bit, and closed the door, yet still positioning himself as if he was guarding the door.

- well... Yeah, and when do we start? - Miko sat down on the bed again, staring intensely at Vasya. - It's not like prostitution is it?

- No, we wouldn't trick you into prostitution, oh my! - Yet his face looked suspiciously calm. - But you would be surprised what people pay for nowadays. Good money! Tell me little Miko, you're probably used to being beaten up huh?

Mikołaj's face turned white, and he gulped, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He knew just from looking at him, didn't he? Or was it the giant barely healed wound on his eye the giveaway. Either way, the boy didn't like it one bit.

- What do you mean? - He finally spits out, not looking at Vasya anymore.

- It's simple, people pay for getting one of you, for ten hours, to do whatever they like. The rules are simple, no fatal injuries or rape, or else they deal with me and that's not going to be pleasant. I'm not a monster, I wouldn't let random people actually hurt you! - He said with a grin. - If customers like you, you get paid more usually. You can also agree to do sexual things but you don't have to. It actually doesn't pay that much around these parts.

- So you... You send us to be basically abused for ten hours and you pay us for it. What... What the fuck is wrong with you?

- Careful with those words, pretty boy. - the grin disappeared from the man's face, sending a chill down Mikołaj's spine. - You don't have a choice anymore. You signed your fate away for at least a month! If you break the contract, this family of yours will probably end up on the street soon. Time is ticking, you better do something. I'm giving you a generous offer!

- Sh-shut it. - He bit his lip. Vasya was right, they were on the verge of homelessness. - Okay. It... it's only one month.

- If they like you and you agree maybe tw-

- I know! Fine, holy shit, I will do it! Just... Send the money directly to my family alright?

- Will do that. I hope you stay for longer little Miko! Ah, you have an appointment already tomorrow, at noon, you will be escorted by a taxi from here. Good night and good luck! - He smiled and left the perplexed boy in his room.

[heyitsani]

Feel the Adrenaline Moving

Keep on Truckin’ AU Part 1

Word Count: 2494

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: Robincest (obviously even if they’re not siblings in this au), mentions of gunshot wound, mentions of past child abuse by a bad parent

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

Summary: Food Truck Owner!Jason and Police Officer!Dick have spent the last couple of months flirting with each other the few times a week Dick orders food from Jason's food truck. When they finally decide to go on a date and Dick stands him up, Jason is left wondering if he had been wrong about the other man all along.

Notes: This idea stemmed from the idea of a no capes AU where Jason owns a food truck with Artemis and Dick is a GPD officer who is obsessed with his food.  Dick and Tim were both adopted by Bruce and Damian is still his son through Talia, a failed relationship years prior where she never told him she was pregnant.  I have not introduced the other members of the batfam (though Babs is an exception because she’s mentioned as an ex and still friend in the current installment I’m working on), but have their introductions to the story already planned out.  

Jason is softer in this AU because while he has some childhood trauma, it’s not nearly as bad as his canonical trauma.  So I’ve been exploring the side of him that could have been, if you get what I mean.

Also, if you do not like the pairing then just move along.  Or block me.  I can and will block any rude or hateful comments.  I have both traditional and nontraditional siblings and don’t need to hear about how I don’t support adoptive families.  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.  Just because I write murder doesn’t mean I support murder.  Capisce?  Good.

You can also read this on AO3 here

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

“This is stupid.  How do we even know this is the right truck?”

“Don’t play stupid, Harper.  He was extremely specific.  Egg rolls made with things like bacon mac or Reubens.  Hot guy, dark hair, white streak in front, and arms to die for.  This is obviously him.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at the two arguing redheads, curious why they were looking for him and his truck.  Thankfully, the rush had passed and now it would just be the stragglers until they closed up shop for the day.

The pair turned to face the order window to find Jason there, arms folded on the counter and an amused smirk on his face.

“Jason?”

“So it would appear.  That was an oddly specific description.  Can I help you guys?”  He watched the pair exchange a look before the more rugged looking of the two stepped forward.

“We’re here because of Dick.”  And of all the scenarios running through his head, Dick had not been involved in any of them.

“I see,” Jason said sharply, smirk fading to a scowl.  “He has made his point perfectly clear without sending his harem of redheads to clarify.”

“What point?”

“Harem of redheads?”  But Jason just raised an eyebrow.

“Ah fuck, Wally.  Dick was right.”  The man looked to Wally and then back to Jason.  “Look, I’m Roy Harper and this is Wally West.  Dickie is our best friend and whatever point you think he’s making, he’s not.  Trust me.”

“He’s in the hospital.  Got shot in the chest on the job two weeks ago and just regained consciousness yesterday,” Wally relayed, and Jason had to grip the counter to keep upright.

“He…Is he going to be okay?”  And wow did he feel like an ass.

“Yeah.  Doctors said maybe two more days before he can go home.  It was bad there for a while but they kept him in the medically induced coma so he could heal without his usual bullshit of getting up too early.  But look,” Roy crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Jason, “You need to come to Gotham General.  Once he was fully awake, he started freaking out about you.  Something about a date, missed calls and texts, and you hating him.”

“Jesus, Roy.  Dickie said to just tell him what happened.  Not to guilt the guy into a visit.”  Wally smacked Roy’s upper arm with the back of his hand.  “Though, yeah,” he turned back to Jason, “Dick would probably weep tears of joy if you showed up.  He was pretty wrecked.”

Jason wasn’t quite sure what to say, still working the fact that Dick had been shot and hadn’t just ditched him.  He had spent the last two weeks wondering what it was he had done.  He had gone over that last in-person interaction and the text message thread, wracking his brain for any kind of hint.  And the first week had tried to text and call but had been met with silence.  So, the past week he had convinced himself that Dick had just been fucking with him all along and never meant any of it.  Now he was hearing the other man had nearly died and Jason had been the ass who had thought the man was just ghosting him.

“Did we break him?”

“Shut it, West.  Look man, he’s in room 212 at GG.  Give us a last name to go with Jason and we’ll put you on the visitor’s list.”

“Visitor’s list?”

“Comes with being Bruce Wayne’s son.”  Jason gave Wally a weird look.

“His last name is Grayson…?”

“Yeah, but Bruce adopted him.  Took him in after-“ Roy covered Wally’s mouth with his hand and glared at the other man.

“Shut the fuck up, West,” Roy growled and hell if that didn’t just pique Jason’s interest.  “Now give us an order of whatever is Dickhead’s favorite so we can get a smile on his pathetic face.”  Jason stood frozen for a moment before waving away Roy’s credit card and hanging the closed sign.  He quickly whipped up an order of the bacon mac ‘n cheese rolls and an order of churros before bagging it all up.

“My last name is Todd.  Get me on the list,” Jason said as he stepped out of the truck and handed the bag of food over.  “I gotta clean this shit up because hazard and all that, but I’ll come by after I’m done.”

“Good,” was all Roy said as he grabbed the bag and turned to leave.

“Nice to meet you man!  See you around, hopefully,” Wally called out as Roy grabbed his arm and dragged him away.

Jason wasn’t sure what he had been expecting once he finally got to Dick’s room at the hospital, but a fancy and very private suite was not it.  And even less than that, a fifteen or sixteen-year-old kid fussing over Dick while Dick just smiled at the kid fondly. 

“Dames, stop,” Dick laughed softly, reaching out to stop the kid from messing with the pillows again.  “I’m good.  Just go meet Jon already.”

“Tt,” the kid responded before turning to grab his bag from the chair next to Dick’s bag.  When he tensed all over, Jason knew he had been spotted.  “Who the hell are you?  This is supposed to be a private room, not some free for all.”  Wow. 

“Jason,” Dick’s surprised voice cut in.  Jason looked from the kid to Dick and practically melted at the look on his face.  Surprised, yes, but the warmth was there and god if Jason didn’t want to just cross the room and press his lips to the other mans.

“Dick, I’m so glad you’re okay.”  He took two steps into the room before the kid was standing in front of him, almost the same height as him but much leaner compared to Jason’s bulk.  Raising a brow, Jason stared the kid down and waited. 

“Dami, stop.  This is Jason, my friend who owns the food truck.”  The kid didn’t move or acknowledge Dick’s words.  “Damian, knock it off.”  Authority slipped into Dick’s tone and Jason wanted to smirk in victory when Damian tensed but backed off.  “Jon is waiting,” Dick reminded him gently and with a grunt and one last glare sent to Jason, Damian was storming out of the room.

“Fun kid,” Jason commented, looking back toward the door before closing the rest of the space between him and Dick’s bedside.  “Jesus, Dick.  I almost dropped when Roy and Wally told me what happened.  I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.”

“They didn’t guilt you into coming here, did they?  They can be a bit much at the same time when you don’t know them.”  Shaking his head, Jason tugged the chair closer to the bed and sat down.  Without allowing himself to overthink it, he grabbed Dick’s hand in his and held it with both of his.  The smile he got in return was well worth it.

“Nah, they just told me what happened.  Said you’d like it if I stopped by and asked for my last name.”  Dick nodded and sunk a little deeper into the pillows piled up behind him.  “So, Damian is your…?”

“Oh.  Brother.  I know those idiots let slip that Bruce Wayne is my adoptive father, but Damian is Bruce’s only actual blood son.  Tim and I were both adopted after our parents died.”  Jason wanted to know more about that, but the look on Dick’s face told him he wasn’t quite ready to let him in on that darkness.

“He’s a very intense kid.  How old is he?”

“Sixteen going on sixty,” Dick laughed.  “He’s a good kid, despite the glare and protectiveness.  He didn’t have the easiest beginning.  B didn’t even know about him until he was eight.  Lesson learned: protection is never a guarantee.”  Jason laughed at that and shook his head.

“So, his mom was not a good parent?”

“The only person worse than her was her father.”  Dick’s face turned from amused to angry faster than Jason realized he could and he was surprised at the fire there.  “When LA Social Services called and told Bruce about Damian, he was…it was bad.”  Jason squeezed Dick’s hand and the other man gave him a thankful smile.  “Tim and I came from homes that knew love.  Damian, I don’t think he had ever known love of any kind until he came to Gotham.”

“Poor kid.”  Dick nodded sadly.  “But he seemed pretty fond of you in the few seconds before he noticed me.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, and the smile was back on his face.  “Bruce is a great man and a good father, but he’s not the most emotionally available man.  He struggled with Damian when he came to live with him.  Tim was a teenager already and I had moved out on my own, so B was pretty much on his own.  But then he called me one night and begged me to help because he didn’t know if he was just screwing up Damian more than he already was.”

Well, fuck.  How shitty was it that a man could tell he was not the best option for his own child’s mental and emotional health but that his older son was?  Jason couldn’t imagine feeling so poorly about himself and that said something because he didn’t like himself most days.

“I moved back home and took a sabbatical from work in order to help.  It was hard and there were plenty of times I would shut myself in my room and ask what the hell I was trying to accomplish, but Damian eventually improved.”  Letting out a sigh, Dick looked down at Jason with a hint of sadness.  “I think sometimes B wishes he hadn’t called me in.  He and Dami…they’re not close.  They respect each other, and B loves him like he loves Tim and me, but when Dami does something to be proud of it’s me who he comes to.”

“He views you as a father more than his actual father.”  Dick hummed and looked over toward the window, avoiding commenting on it.  “Is that a point of contention between you and Bruce?”

“Not really, at least not that he allows it to be.  But like I said, he’s not good with the emotions.  Its just, sometimes I can see regret so plainly written on his face when I’m talking to Dami.  It’s hard to miss sometimes.”

“And that makes you feel guilty.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah…”  Dick’s voice is quiet, but Jason knows him well enough now to hear the regret.

“Have you talked to Damian about it before?”  Dick shook his head and looked back to Jason with a curious look.  “I was just wondering what he thought of it all.”

Jason can tell Dick is mulling over the idea of asking Damian about the fact that he viewed Dick as his dad and not Bruce, but he can also see the moment when Dick rejects the idea for now.  Not that Jason blames him.  The kid had been intense, and he had come across as smart, so part of him probably knew.  If it had been Jason in Damian’s place, he probably would have some resentment toward his actual father for basically pawning him off to his brother when it got to be too much.

“This was so not the conversation I thought we would have when I came,” Jason offered as an out of the current topic.  He could see the appreciation in Dick’s smile and the slight shift of his shoulders as he relaxed.

“What did you expect?”

“Profuse apologies because your redheads had made it seem like you were pretty worried that I hated you.”  Dick laughed hard, holding his middle where Jason assumed were some of the wounds that had caused this whole mess.

“They made it clear that you weren’t mad.  I figured I could save the apologies for when I wasn’t laid up in the hospital.”

“Fair enough.  Though,” Jason leaned forward and looked at Dick closely, “you don’t owe me any apologies.  This situation isn’t anywhere near being your fault.”

“Still upset I missed our date.  I had the whole thing planned.”

“Well, you can go through with that plan when you are back to full mobility.  Until then, I’d be happy to accommodate to your situation.”  Dick’s smile was practically blinding, and Jason squeezed his hand.  The intense desire to kiss the other man hit him suddenly but not too surprisingly.  “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”  The words came out before he could stop them.

“I’d really like you to kiss me,” Dick responded, smile growing even brighter.  And Jason wished he could figure out how he managed to be so beautiful.  But he would have to try and figure that out later.  For now, he just focused on releasing Dick’s hand and pressing a palm to his cheek as he leaned forward and pressed their mouths together.

And god if it didn’t feel like coming home after being gone for years.

Dick’s lips were slightly chapped from the dry, hospital air and his breath was a little stale but the whole thing was so utterly perfect that Jason could feel his chest tighten with the emotion.  Keeping in mind his still healing chest, Jason ended the kiss sooner than he would have liked.  Pulling back, he pressed one quick kiss to the corner of Dick’s mouth before pulling back even further to look at the other man.  What he found made him want to ignore the chest wound Dick had and just dive right back in.

Dark lashes fluttering against golden cheek bones and lips parted just slightly.  He hoped he never forgot this image.

“I can’t wait until this heart rate monitor won’t alert everyone to just how much you affect me,” Dick muttered, opening his eyes to reveal sapphire rings around black pupils blown wide with lust.

“Just focus on healing that chest wound.  Then I’ll happily let you figure out just how much of me you can and can’t handle.”

“Deal,” Dick whispered, pushing up to press their mouths together one last time before falling back into the pillows again. 

Jason chuckled and ran his fingers along Dick’s cheek bone before dropping back down into the chair he had previously been sitting in and letting his hands fall into his lap.

“So, Wally and Roy aren’t my only redhead friends and the fact that you called just the two of them a harem was so accurate I thought I had pulled my stitches from laughing so hard when they told me.”  Jason looked at him for a moment before laughing loudly and shaking his head.

“Well then the name is definitely sticking around.”

“I’ll be sure to warn the others.”

And Jason couldn’t help but chuckle as he reached for Dick’s hand again.

[disney-princess-in-the-making]

Aunt Teresa’s Kitchen

“I don’t really want any.”

“Yes you do. Biscuits are best fresh.”

“No I’m good, thanks,” Lorna said as her brother walked into the room with fresh biscuits and country ham.

“I can see right through that. You do. And we’re going to sit down and enjoy it. It’s the company that makes the meal,” he said, making Lorna laugh and give in. Lorna wasn’t sure she believed the old adage, though she figured it must be at least half true. Bad company could ruin a good meal, but she wasn’t sure good company could save bad food. Fortunately she’d never had to find out.

Lorna sat down at the table and took the floral ceramic plate with a small laugh when he said “so you want some ham too?” and insisted on adding an extra slice with a smile.

It had been a rough few months. With sick family and a tight budget not made for so much travel, Lorna and Jordan were scraping by in order to visit their great aunt who raised them through their trying teenage years and made sure they both went off to college. To Aunt Teresa, education was the best thing a person could get themselves. As much as they wanted to move Aunt Teresa closer so they could visit more often and make sure she had the best treatment, there was no way to convince her to leave the house she and Uncle Barry had built and poured so much love into. Lorna could understand that. The house had so many memories, especially the cramped kitchen often featured in her drawings where the best view of every sunrise could be found.

When Aunt Teresa and Uncle Barry first moved in everything had been brand new. It was the first time either of them had indulged in something for themselves and it was wonderful. Years of saving and investing had paid off, and the day they took the keys was one of the best days of their lives. From the cabinet doors to the refrigerator, Aunt Teresa was proud of her kitchen and the way it looked like it could have come out of a magazine. As the years went by the kitchen looked a little dated, but that didn’t bother her one bit. Thirty-some-odd years later that dent in the freezer door reminded her of Thanksgiving in ’93 and the mismatched knobs brought back memories of the day Uncle Barry had gotten a big promotion at work. There were still serving pieces and soup ladles to remember anniversaries for which gifts would never again be exchanged. Aunt Teresa’s kitchen and all its memories were too cherished to ignore and certainly too precious to leave.

That kitchen with its stained countertops and matching linoleum was the place where Lorna and Jordan both learned to cook, making biscuits by hand and watching them rise to show their golden tops. Flour, butter, a little bit of buttermilk, and a cup of coffee as the sun came up were the ingredients in biscuits. Lorna had found that Aunt Teresa and Jordan’s ability to be patient was a good addition, but they usually still turned out alright if she made them herself.

Digging into one of the biscuits Jordan had made that morning, Lorna couldn’t help but think back to all the days they’d spent in the kitchen growing up. Be it ham or homemade apple butter or an assortment of jellies, the biscuits had a good flaky texture and tasted divine.

“I’m not having either of my youngin’s growing up and not knowin’ how to feed themselves. Nobody ought to be out there in the world without knowin’ how to make a batch of biscuits at least,” Aunt Teresa would always say as Lorna marveled at the dough, so light and soft in contrast to the dark calloused hands that kneaded the dough. Lorna and Jordan took turns rolling it out and used the canning ring from a large mouth Ball jar to cut out the biscuits. Lorna made sure each biscuit was aligned in neat rows, and Jordan would plop down little circles to make sure they all fit on the baking sheet in one batch.

After the oven had done its job for the billionth time, Jordan would carry over a plate and set it down on the kitchen table as Lorna took her seat, brushing dark braids over her shoulder and placing a linen napkin in her lap. Lorna sat at the same spot in the same chair and insisted on using the same plate for breakfast every morning. Every evening after school, she sat in the same chair again until they ate supper together.

The kitchen table had been a place for learning featuring both school assigned homework and life lessons handed down from generation to generation just like the table itself. Small and painted white with dainty looking legs and an embroidered table cloth on top, Lorna sometimes envied the table. It was flexible with its folding leaves and it was sturdy enough to hold up a light snack or a Thanksgiving feast. The table didn’t have to worry about making good grades on things like math tests or SAT scores or getting into SCAD so it could pursue its dreams. The table didn’t deal with bad dates except to hold up the cream cheese pound cake and a glass of milk as Lorna spilled her heart out to Aunt Teresa. The table would never be faced with a picture of another table in a magazine insisting it wasn’t good enough. The table would be there and it would have a purpose in life with a family that would always love it. Arrangements had been made so that after Aunt Teresa, the table would be moved carefully into Jordan’s possession where it would still be laden with deviled eggs and Easter ham and banana pudding each spring as it had for three generations.

Of course, looking back Lorna was glad she wasn’t the table. Aunt Teresa was proud of her for going to school and she was thrilled when Lorna graduated with honors. There was no doubt she was loved by her aunt more than anyone else had ever dreamed of loving her. But student loans didn’t pay themselves and her borrowing service wouldn’t take a check with love on the ‘in the amount of’ line. Without enough work as a children’s book illustrator, Lorna was working two part time jobs and sharing a house with her brother to make ends meet. While it wasn’t the loft in the city she’d always dreamed of, Lorna told herself this was better because Jordan’s cooking was worth more than any amount of chic throw pillows and soft blankets in an apartment that felt staged. Lorna told herself that it gave her time to spend with her aunt when there was precious little left, and with her brother’s fiancé who came over regularly and had been accepted by Aunt Teresa as a second son.

What kindness could rise in the hearts of people who had known hardship! To take in children who were not her own but to treat them as though they were. What joy could bubble over when love was unending! To understand that difference was nothing to fear and true love in all its forms was as good as any. What compassion could come from a gentle soul! To sit patently and wait for a little girl to dry her tears over chess pie and a glass of sweet tea.

Aunt Teresa had dedicated her life to them, and seeing that life draw to a close before her eyes was difficult at best. Heart wrenching at worst. Who would they go to now? Lorna still needed advice to grow into the woman she wanted to become, and she knew Jordan still needed Aunt Teresa, if not for affirmation then to sit and drink tea with in the late afternoon, discussing ideas and methods for his latest recipes. What would they do now without her? Would biscuits still taste the same knowing she was gone?

Jordan’s voice pulled Lorna out of her memories and she looked at him with the same expression as a deer looking into bight headlights. He gave her the kind of gentle smile he always awarded before sharing a beater covered in cake batter.

“You sure you’re alright? I know she’d love to see you, but you don’t have to go if you’re not feeling up to it,” Jordan assured her even as she waved off his concern.

“Just reminiscing. I’m fine, I promise. We really should get going if we want to be there to help with lunch,” she insisted, carrying her dishes to the sink and smiling a little to herself as Jordan promised to make sausage gravy next weekend. There wouldn’t be many more days of this, and she was determined to enjoy every moment while she still could. After all, biscuits were best served fresh but it was the company that made the meal.