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reyescarlos · 3 years

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all through the night || a tarlos fic

❄️ @911giftexchange fic for @buckieys ❄️

happy holidays, sy! i'm wishing you a wonderful and prosperous new year. i hope this fic helps to usher in 2021 right!

word count: 5.2k || read on ao3

All through the night I'll be awake and I'll be with you All through the night This precious time when time is new

When Carlos envisioned winter in New York, his elaborate fantasies had somehow managed to eclipse the reality of what it might actually entail. He had enjoyed his brief stay, taking in the window displays along Fifth Avenue. It had long since been something he wanted to see for himself and the storefronts had more than delivered. But on the flipside of such a picturesque scene has come the downside of what heavy amounts of snow could mean.

It’s why he finds himself now planted in a too hard seat at JFK Airport, wondering how he’ll possibly fill his time now that his flight has been delayed until morning. Outside the blizzard rages on with no real end in sight and Carlos mulls over the merits of his decision to leave Texas in the New Year and make this city his home. This is a far cry from Austin. He’d once thought winter temperatures there could be bad but it’s been nothing compared to the arctic blast in the North.

He tries to keep busy with a book but his attention is split between the words before him and the cute guy across from him frantically digging inside his backpack, a phone teetering dangerously on his knee.

“God, where is that stupid thing,” the man mumbles to himself. “Come on charger, where are you?”

Carlos looks away, burying his head in his book to hide the smile that breaks out on his face. The guy is obviously peeved but Carlos can’t help but to find his muttering endearing. After another moment of fruitless searching on the stranger’s end, Carlos takes mercy on him.

“Here, you can borrow mine,” he says, unzipping his own backpack and fishing out his charger.

The man sighs in relief. “Thank you. I really appreciate it,” he replies, reaching over and taking the cord from Carlos.

He settles back and plugs it into the wall, the screen lighting up a moment later. Carlos smiles politely and gets back to reading, only to be interrupted.

“So, I take it you’re heading down to visit family before the new year comes, huh?” the stranger says.

Carlos looks up from his book, head tilting slightly. It hadn’t been expecting the man to strike up a conversation.

“Sorry, awkward small talk. I’ll let you get back to it,” he says, face scrunching as he gestures to the book in Carlos’ hands.

Carlos waves him off, bookmarking his page and closing it.

“No worries. We’re here all night so...plenty of time for that.” He licks his lips and drums his fingers against the front. “To answer your question though, no. Austin is actually my home so I’m just heading back.”

“Oh, cool. I’m going to see my dad. I thought he’d want to do the whole white Christmas, New York for the New Year thing but ever since he moved down to Austin last year, I think he’s gotten spoiled by the warmer weather.”

The man looks out of the window where the snow is swirling so heavily it’s hard to even see the sky or planes sitting idly on the tarmac.

“Guess I can’t exactly blame him.”

Carlos laughs. “It’s disgustingly cold here and all of that,” he says, gesturing to the storm, “doesn’t help. I don’t know how you guys manage.”

“You get used to it. I’ve only ever grown up with it so while I like to complain about the snow at times, I can’t picture this time of year without it. It’s been a few years since it’s been this bad though, I’ll admit.”

Carlos smiles a bit, looking out of the window briefly. “This is actually my first time experiencing snow. And the city was gracious enough to give me a blizzard to commemorate.”

The man smiles at this thoughtfully. He sits up, stretching his hand out across the aisle towards Carlos.

“I’m TK, by the way.”

Carlos touches his fingertips to his forehead before shaking TK’s hand.

“God, my mother would be so ashamed of my manners right now,” he laughs. “I’m Carlos. It’s nice to meet you.”

He lets go, his palm feeling extremely warm from TK’s touch. TK smiles at him, a slow grin that ultimately reveals his teeth. This man is very good looking, there’s no denying that. He’s got an easy way about him that makes Carlos feel comfortable in his presence as if they’re old friends catching up and not perfectly good strangers meeting for the first time.

TK’s phone buzzes, stealing his attention and Carlos is all too grateful for it. TK types something on the device for a few seconds before pausing.

“Sorry, excuse me for a second,” he says, putting his phone to his ear.

Carlos nods and gestures for him to go for it.

“Hey, Dad. I—,” TK starts out but stops short as his father speaks. “I bet it’s all over the news but I’m alright. Not looking forward to being stuck here overnight but,” he continues, his eyes landing on Carlos and away so quickly Carlos is sure he’s imagined it. “I guess there are worse ways to be trapped for a few hours.”

Carlos looks away then, cracking open his book again to keep himself occupied while TK chats with his father. He tries not to dwell heavily on TK’s look or what the implications of that glance could mean. It could’ve been a coincidence and nothing more. All the same, it doesn’t make his heart race any less to think that TK feels a spark too.

TK ends the call with a sigh, stretching out his legs before bouncing one of them. The gesture is distracting but endearing. For the second time, Carlos closes his book, this time putting it back into his bag for good as TK speaks to him again.

“Are you hungry? I could go for a bite.”

“I could eat,” Carlos says. He rises from his seat as TK does, both men dragging their carry-ons along with them.

They follow the winding path down from their gate, Carlos taking notice of all the fellow flyers now forced to wait out the storm. Some have taken to stretching out on the ground, laying on top of jackets like makeshift sleeping bags, others keeping busy with phones and tablets, hunched over in chairs.

Carlos isn’t looking forward to the uncomfortable sleep he’ll have tonight but as he looks over at TK, he wonders just how much rest he’ll actually manage to get. The guy is already proving himself to be a good way to pass the time and Carlos can’t say he wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to keep chatting with him.

As they approach the cluster of food stands, TK groans and it’s easy to see why. Many of the shops are already closed, no doubt the employees hurrying home before the worst of the storm kicked in. All that’s available now is Cinnabon but Carlos supposes that can suffice as dinner.

TK orders a hot chocolate and a classic roll while Carlos opts for a cold brew in addition to a roll as well. TK eyes the drink with raised brows.

“I’m fully committing to the cause of being awake until we board, apparently,” Carlos muses, pushing his straw through the lid and taking a sip. “Worth it.”

The two head to a nearby empty table, settling into their elevated seats before unloading their food. The scent coming off the baked goods is incredible and Carlos’ stomach suddenly feels desperate for a bite.

“So, Carlos, since we’ve nominated each other for the buddy system while we wait this storm out,” he jokes, “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

Carlos drums his fingers on the tabletop as he tries to decide what to share.

“Well, you already know that Austin is where I’m from but the whole reason I’m even here now is because I’m going to be moving to New York soon. I’ll be transferring next month.”

TK’s brows raise. “Seriously? That’s awesome. Do you mind if I ask what you do?”

“I’m a police officer. I’ve been with the Austin Police Department for a few years but I’ve been considering leaving Texas for a little while now and I’ve been exploring my options. For some reason my mind kept coming back to the idea of New York and I figured I should just take the chance and see what happens.”

TK laughs and shakes his head. “Oh man, well, we have something in common, more or less. I’m with the NYFD myself.”

Carlos holds up a hand. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re a firefighter?” he laughs.

TK puffs out his chest jokingly and nods with a grin on his face. “That’s right. Ladder 252.”

Carlos does his best to push the image of TK in uniform from mind but the picture is an appealing one. He can see it so clearly, the way he’d look in suspenders, not to mention full gear. It’s almost unfair just how much hotter the man becomes as if Carlos hasn’t spent this whole time finding him attractive. He picks up his drink again for something to do with his hands, swirling the straw inside of the cup.

“Small world. Outside of my own little bubble, I can’t say I casually meet many people who are first responders. We seem to be a pretty special breed to get into this line of work.”

TK laughs. “I fell into this because of my dad. He’s been a firefighter for years. He, uh, actually was on site during 9/11. I always thought he was incredible but knowing the full scope of what he and so many others did that day and for people in times of crisis, big and small in general, it just made me want to be like him.”

Carlos frowns, unsure of what to even say or think. “Your dad’s a hero.”

“I like to think so.” TK draws in a breath, squaring his shoulders. “Anyway, now he’s kicking ass down in Texas so, even though I miss him as my captain, I know he’s doing great work with his crew down there.”

Curiosity gets the better of Carlos as he asks, “What station is he with?”

“The 126,” TK replies, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

Carlos’ eyes widen. “Captain Owen Strand is your father?”

It makes sense the longer he looks at TK. Captain Strand is an attractive older guy and TK clearly got handed some solid genes. Still, it throws him for a loop to realize they have a legitimate connection to each other.

TK tilts his head to the side. “You know him? Shit, okay, wow, small world just got a whole hell of a lot smaller.”

“Unbelievable,” Carlos laughs in disbelief. “I don’t know him that well but we work together sometimes on calls. He’s amazing in the field and he’s really turned that station around.”

TK practically beams. “Guess this means we’ll be seeing each other again soon once we finally make it to Austin then.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess so. Assuming you don’t get sick of me before this night is through, that is.”

TK holds Carlos’ gaze for a moment and if it were anyone else, it would be unnerving but something in TK’s stare just sends a thrill through Carlos, excites him in a way no stranger has ever really gotten under his skin.

“I don’t see that happening,” he says plainly, as if this is an irrefutable fact and not something that’s truly subject to change.

Carlos doesn’t argue the point. He merely enjoys the next few hours, seeing just how easily TK’s theory pans out.

~*~*~

The contrast in weather between New York and Austin is one of the first things Carlos’ remarks on as he steps outside of Austin-Bergstrom. He’s never been more grateful for a forty degree afternoon. He’s kept Michelle updated about his new set time and he waits patiently outside of arrivals. Beside him now, TK types out a message on his phone before smiling over at him.

Carlos has had hours to get used to that look on TK’s face and yet he’s still brought up short. Last night and the early morning hours were spent talking to TK about everything imaginable, trading stories about crazy calls they’ve been on and even touching on personal things like their families. When they grew tired of talking, they watched movies on TK’s laptop, fighting off the urge to sleep for the mere sake of hanging out.

It isn’t rare for Carlos to become friendly with a person but this connection to TK feels different in a way he can’t quite parse.

By the time their flight boarded, Carlos knocked out for the entire length of the trip but it had been worth it in his eyes to stay up and take advantage of the uninterrupted time that stretched before him with TK. It was safe to say a bit of a crush had formed, as absurd as Carlos felt for it. TK was going to be in town for the next few days and that prospect was both thrilling and terrifying. If he could feel this close to TK in one night, there’s no telling what could happen in a few days.

Before he can get lost in that thought, Carlos sees Michelle as she pulls up to the curb, the trunk popping open.

“Are you good out here?”

“My dad’s coming in just a minute. I’ll be just fine,” TK muses as Carlos puts his carry-on inside and slams the trunk shut.

“Alright, well. You have my number now so text me whenever you’re free. I’ll show you a few places while you’re here.”

Carlos extends his hand but TK rolls his eyes jokingly and pulls him into a half hug instead.

“We’ve spent the night together, Carlos. I think we’re past handshakes now.”

Carlos’ face burns with TK’s wording but the man merely laughs.

“See you soon?”

Carlos just nods and finds the wherewithal to get inside of Michelle’s car. He waves after he buckles himself in, TK lifting a hand in response.

“Okay, who is that?” Michelle asks immediately, head turned to take in the sight of TK.

Carlos tips his head back against the seat. “You won’t believe the night I’ve had.”

~*~*~

Carlos has spent two days showing TK some of his favorite stomping grounds. TK relished in all that Austin had to offer and Carlos has been happy to see that their closeness from the unexpected overnight at the airport hadn’t been a fluke. If anything, these outings have only made Carlos feel closer to TK.

Michelle has been relentless in her teasing, finding it all too amusing that Carlos managed to cross paths with Captain Strand’s son of all people. She’d clung to his every word during the ride home from the airport as he filled her in on how he waited out the storm.

The 126 meets at their usual bar and Carlos is glad for this post-work gathering. It’s the perfect time to show TK what a real honky-tonk is like, further immersing him in the culture of the state his father now resides.

TK sits next to him at the table, the large group so packed in that his leg presses against Carlos’. It’s light but it’s enough to make the point of contact all Carlos can focus on even as everyone else at the table engages in conversations that overlap, laughing amongst themselves. He does his best to ignore it but it’s difficult not to take notice of each shift TK makes. Michelle keeps looking at him and Carlos, to the best of his abilities, avoids her gaze knowing that it’ll make it just that much more difficult to act as if he isn’t freaking out internally.

“I’m gonna get another. You want anything?” Carlos asks TK.

TK shakes his head. “No, I’m alright but thank you though.”

Carlos nods once and gets up, finding it much easier to breathe already now that he’s no longer sitting beside TK. Michelle catches his eye as he leaves from the table and he can hear her shoes as she follows behind him to the bar. She rests against the counter facing the room at large as Carlos gets the attention of the bartender and asks for another beer.

“You sure know how to pick them,” Michelle laughs at his side.

“Chelle,” he groans, shaking his head.

She merely laughs again, bumping her hip against his. “When did your life become a romantic comedy?”

“I must’ve missed the memo myself because this sure snuck up on me.”

The bartender sets a bottle down in front of him but Carlos doesn’t move. This little reprieve away from everyone but Michelle right now is welcome.

“I like him. He’s nice. Really cute too.”

“Oh, so you’ve noticed?” he deadpans, looking over his shoulder at TK.

He looks so at home here, hanging out and laughing with these people he’s, up until now, only known secondhand from his father’s work stories. TK is personable as ever, Carlos knows all too well. Had he not been swept away after one night in the man’s company?

“I think this is so great.”

“Funny, I think it’s the universe trying to mess with me.”

Michelle scoffs, finally turning to face the bar like him. “There are worse things in the world than a seemingly perfect guy practically falling into your lap. We should all be so lucky.”

Carlos casts the mental image aside, taking a sip of his drink. “The timing though. I can’t think about guys right now. I need to be figuring out my next set of moves for New York.”

“If those plans just so happen to include an attractive new friend…,” she trails off with a grin.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to screw this up because yeah, he is a new friend and we get along well, it’s a good feeling.”

“Do you like him?”

Carlos falters. “I barely even know the guy.”

“That’s not even remotely close to what I asked you.”

Carlos scratches at his forehead before letting out a sigh. “I do. Which hardly makes any sense at all. It’s only been a few days and yet I can’t stop thinking about him. That’s strange, isn’t it?”

Michelle shakes her head. “No, actually. I don’t think so. You guys had such a cute introduction to each other and you clearly hit it off. Some people just click and are meant to meet. The fact that you two had a connection to each other beforehand without even knowing it? I think there’s something to be said for that.”

“What, you think it’s fate or something?”

Michelle shrugs. “I wouldn’t rule it out. Your flight could have been a day earlier or even a few hours before his. On a plane filled with hundreds, you connected with him, Captain Strand’s son who just so happens to live in the city you’re about to move to. I think it’s worth seeing just how far it could go. If you ask me, you’ll wind up with a boyfriend in no time.”

Carlos mulls it over for a moment. He can admit he is in fact curious. It’s been a while since he’s felt this drawn to someone and with TK, it’s been as natural as breathing since they first met. The timing is less than ideal but it’s been so long since Carlos has felt this urge to get close to someone, since he’s felt safe enough to even open his mind and heart up to the possibility.

“Maybe you’re onto something.”

“One of these days you’ll learn to just accept my brilliance, no questions asked. But this will do for now.”

Carlos rolls his eyes but drapes an arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side and kissing her temple.

“I’m going moments like this with you,” he says.

Michelle sighs and pats his back. “I will too but we still have time on the clock, right? Let’s not think about that now.”

Carlos sighs, knowing she’s right. It just feels as if these moments are slipping through his fingers, the new year and all its changes lurking just around the corner.

~*~*~

As customary, the Ryder house is the staple for parties among the team and New Year’s Eve is no different. Carlos has lost track of how many times he’s sat on their couch or been treated for Grace’s incredible home-cooking. It’s always been a source of comfort for him, being surrounded by these colleagues who have become an extended family to him.

This time next year, he’ll be in another time zone, familiarized with a new group of people. Carlos knows he’s jumping the gun. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll be able to visit back home and that this collection of people will still love him as they do now.

Carlos looks around the living room, taking stock: Marjan blowing into a noise maker in Mateo’s face and bursting into laughter, Paul shaking his head and dropping his face into his palm. Over by the kitchen he sees Grace and Judd swaying to the music playing as Captain Strand takes Michelle’s hand and begins dancing alongside the other couple. It warms Carlos’ heart and breaks it too, seeing this all for what will be the last time with this city being home.

Suddenly the room feels too small and he finds himself heading for the door, grabbing his jacket off of the coat rack. It’s cold out but Carlos remembers just how bitter the weather in New York was. This is nothing compared to that. And it’s this thought that twists at his heart a bit more, one more reminder of how much his life is set to change sooner than he thinks he’s ready for.

The new year is biting at his heels and time is just slipping by. Logically he knows that he shouldn’t be outside now, that he would be wise to savor these memories with his Austin crew while they’re here rather than lament later. But it all feels like too much and the last thing he wants is to let his pensive mood be a dark cloud over a celebratory and joyous time.

Carlos keeps walking until he reaches the park nearby the Ryder household. Naturally it’s abandoned as everyone is tucked away inside their homes either enjoying a quiet night in or throwing parties like the Ryders. Carlos draws in a breath and takes a seat on one of the swings, his fingers clutching on to the links. He quickly stands up the second he hears footsteps approaching, a figure walking towards him.

“It’s just me,” comes TK’s voice and sure enough the man’s features come into focus the closer he gets until he’s settling into the swing beside Carlos.

“I saw you take off. I just wanted to check that you were okay.”

Carlos smiles a bit. “I appreciate it. I’m okay. I’m just...thinking about a lot right now.”

TK sways on his swing, letting a comfortable silence fall between them before he speaks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Carlos’ heart and thoughts feel so heavy now, such a contrast to how lighthearted and hopeful this holiday is meant to be. But TK looks at him with such genuine care that he finds himself almost desperate to unburden himself a bit.

“Sometimes I wish I could just stop time, you know? But hell, it’s New Year’s Eve. What more proof do I need that life is always moving forward?”

Carlos sighs and rocks slightly back and forth.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a downer. You should head on back inside, have fun with the others.”

TK is silent beside him, long enough for Carlos to pull his gaze toward the other man. TK is eyeing him thoughtfully.

“You’re scared about what comes next. That’s totally normal. Moving away, starting a new life somewhere else, it’s a big step. A huge change.”

Carlos frowns as he nods. “I wish I could see the end, you know? I wish I could see if it’s all worth it, that I’m making the right choice.”

TK hums in thought. “Well, the best way out is through, right?”

“So you don’t think it’s a mistake to move out to New York?”

TK shrugs. “I don’t know you well enough to say one way or the other for sure. But no, I don’t think it is. I think the fact that you’re even considering it at all should tell you something about how you feel about where you are now.”

Carlos grows quiet, considering the man’s words. But TK isn’t done dishing out his opinion.

“You’ve got an amazing team here, there’s no denying that. It’s a real family, not to mention your actual family is here too. But—and mind you I’m super biased here— New York is an amazing place to be, to live. If you’re feeling restless in Austin, I think New York is the perfect alternative.”

Carlos laughs at this. “So, so biased,” he muses.

TK jokingly puffs up his chest. “Hey, it’s not my fault people have written songs about it and flock to it from all corners of the world,” he jokes. “And all of them, like you would, find home.”

A soft sigh escapes Carlos’ lips as he grips the chain link of the swing.

“That does actually sound pretty nice. I’d miss everyone here like crazy but maybe it’s time for something new? I don’t know. I keep waiting for something extraordinary to happen but nothing ever really changes around here. And there’s nothing wrong with that, of course. I just—“

“You’ve outgrown it,” TK says simply. “And there’s nothing wrong with that either.”

Carlos smiles at him and nods. “I suppose not, no.”

“At least you’ll come to the city knowing someone; you won’t be alone or completely starting from scratch.”

“You? You would take that on?”

TK rolls his eyes. “Of course me. You think I’d leave you high and dry? Damn, I know New Yorkers have a bit of a rep but jeez,” he teases.

Carlos laughs. “I only meant...you barely even know me. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Maybe so but I’d like to get to know you better. And if we’re gonna be calling the same city home, it’s kind of perfect. You get a new job, a new city, a new friend. Pretty sweet package, if you ask me.”

“You’ll be my tour guide then? You can take me to all the hot spots, Central Park and Times Square for starters.”

TK shakes his head in dismay. “God, Times Square,” he groans. “Hell on earth but sure, just for you I’d make the exception.”

“I’m honored,” Carlos says, placing a hand over his heart.

“As you should be. There aren’t many reasons I’d willingly go there so you should be patting yourself on the back right now.”

Carlos raises a brow. “But you’re thinking I’d be worth it?”

TK’s face grows serious. “In a lot of ways I’m thinking you would be, yes.”

Carlos' face flushes a bit and he looks away, down at his feet as he begins to kick out in earnest to start swinging.

Not for the first time since meeting TK he isn’t sure if there’s more to his words just below the surface, if he’s flirting or just being naturally charismatic. It shouldn’t matter either way, Carlos tells himself. Starting up a new relationship when so much in his life is already about to change doesn’t seem smart.

And yet it’s difficult to bear that in mind when he looks over and sees that TK is still watching him. The man smiles softly and follows Carlos' lead, swinging a bit.

In the distance Carlos can hear the rise in voices from houses where everyone is celebrating, just waiting to usher in the new year.

“One minute to go,” TK says, looking at the time on his watch and digging his feet into the ground to stop himself.

Carlos keeps going, breathing in the last dregs of this year before it’s gone with the tick of the clock. He looks up at the pinpricks of stars above, almost glistening in the clear sky. He closes his eyes, soaks in the moment, the last few seconds of this year winding down.

The New Years party goers can be heard shouting their countdown and beside him, TK joins in quietly as well.

Carlos opens his eyes once more and holds his breath as he upward, counting down the last few seconds in his head. This year is going, going...

Gone.

He exhales as shouts from the neighboring houses rent the air. He stops swinging then, digging his feet into the hard earth beneath him as he looks over at TK. Beside him the man’s face is flushed, the tip of his nose pink from the cold but his gaze is unrelenting as he leans forward.

Carlos’ body seems to move on its own accord, closing the distance between them as well. He doesn’t think about anything other than what TK’s lips will feel like and before he realizes it, he’s getting his answer.

It’s a chaste kiss, truly just a meeting of mouths in a gentle press but it warms Carlos from the center all the way through his entire body. TK’s lips are soft and warm despite the cold.

“Happy New Year, Carlos,” TK says softly.

Carlos doesn’t have the slightest clue of what the road ahead will look like exactly but it’s enough to know that in some capacity, TK is going to be a part of it. Be it as a friend or something more, it makes Carlos hopeful to see how life will unfold, what other surprises it may have in store.

Carlos stares at him for a moment and it seems as if TK and the whole world is holding its breath as they sit in silence together. This feeling in his chest is so unlike anything Carlos has experienced before. He likes to think things through, to anticipate at least three steps ahead but his future is such a blank slate that it’s truly anyone’s guess as to what will happen next. All he can do is control this present moment and as Carlos sees it, kissing TK is the only thing on his agenda for right now.

He leans in again and kisses the man once more, deeply this time, hand cradling the back of TK’s neck.

Maybe this is risky, maybe this will only complicate his life further when he settles in New York and has to figure out what this all means. But in this moment, that all feels like a lifetime away, a page from a chapter that hasn’t been written yet. There’s only the here and now with this beautiful man that fills him with possibilities.

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chronicbatfictioner · 3 years

Text

"Overall, it wasn't so bad..." Tim commented.

"Except for the fact that Bane roared like a constipated bear and literally lunged at Damian and Jason threw him out the window..." Barbara quipped, her face serious but her lips were still twitching. "I... am highly amused. Twice."

"You were laughing until you bent over double that if you weren't in a wheelchair, you've probably knelt on the floor laughing." Dinah deadpanned. "It was hilarious."

"Yes, it was. The fact that Jason could actually lift Bane and throw him out... Did you guys see Bruce's face, though! Oh my god! He... he looked at Jason as if he'd seen the lord savior Jésus Todd or something!" Tim crowed. "Like, the dude Bane got thrown out a bay window twice. I get the awe, I was a little star-struck myself. But I can't believe dude actually wanted to try the third time until Alfred pointed a damn shotgun to his forehead! I can't even!"

"This thus solidifies my thoughts that the Waynes may be trying to figure out a way to get rid of this... brute without... I dunno..." Barbara pondered.

"Gotten themselves broken in half?" Tim suggested. "He sure insinuated that he would do such a thing to Damian."

"Oh, gee, Tim. Which part of his speech insinuated that? 'You lying bastard!', or 'I'll break you in halves!'?"

"I'm partial to the 'bastard' remark, really. I mean, pot, kettle?" Tim replied, giggling.

"Technically," Helena Bertinelli - The Huntress - sighed as she chimed in; "and ironically, at that; the 'bastard' would be Bane since he claimed to be Thomas Wayne's son and is younger than Bruce. Which means he was 'conceived' while Dr Thomas was already married to Mrs Wayne..."

"Right? Bruce and Talia were two consenting adults, albeit under 20 years old; and were wed in a local ritual witnessed by locals, according to Jason. You should see Bane's face when Jason presented copies of the marriage's registry." Tim continued.

"Oh, we saw, all right. Harper's drones worked quite well." Dinah replied, snickering, referring to Harper Row, one of their tech 'consultants'. "Even at that height, it still delivered crystal clear pictures. I vote we use them again."

"No vote needed, the drones are on stand-by at the Wayne Manor permanently at this point. I'm more interested in his reaction when Damian offered them a DNA test." Barbara told her.

"I'm more interested in Bruce Wayne's reaction, really. He didn't seem too surprised, as if he was expecting this to happen or something." Helena pointed out.

"Maybe he did," Barbara replied absently. "Dude has been swingin' more than the roarin' 50s, there has got to be some juniors out there that even he didn't know of."

"Ugh, while I'm not a fan of Bruce Wayne's womanizing ways, I personally don't think he's that reckless. He's not a drinker or a junkie, as far as I know. He has virtually no vice other than extreme sports." Helena argued.

"I agree," Selina, who has been quietly watching from the corner, chimed in. "This is a guy who got visibly antsy when some sexy girls in bikinis come up to him - I thought he was gay. But if he'd been... wedded to Talia Al Ghul all these times, that would make sense. He knew exactly where he stood, and what would come up if he screwed it up."

"Has Jason or Dick said anything of the Doc and Mama Wayne's reaction?" Helena asked.

"They seemed truly confused, a little apprehensive, but didn't seem to be opposed to the idea that Damian is Bruce's child. Dr Wayne said that a DNA test wouldn't be necessary, but Jason insisted it." Tim replied, and added a little absently a few heartbeats later. "But why would he, a physician with more specialties than a truck stop, would not question the biology of anyone claiming to be his biological descendant?"

Barbara glared at Tim, "excellent question, Tim. If my dad has someone coming out of the boonies saying he's related to me, the first thing dad would do is draw blood."

"They... don't care?" Dinah suggested. "Maybe the Wayne men were less... chaste than they appear?"

Barbara glared at her this time. "Of all the women Bruce Wayne has dated, I've only recorded a handful who would end up in a second date. Less than a handful who were actually mentioned beyond social media photos; and you know how I feel with social media photos: generic, unverifiable, and showoff-only. Dates with Bruce Wayne generally would start with the pick-up, dinner, and then some form of jewelry. I..." she looked at Selina and Helena, "you've both dated him at one point or the other."

Selina shrugged, "I went for a gala dinner, and was honestly there to scope the homeowner's safe, really. I wasn't interested in a follow-up date." she replied. "Helena?"

"Social arrangement. My people called his people and boom, we were on a red carpet." she elaborated. Helena was a part of a mafia family, until she decided that the mafia way would not be the best way to make Gotham a happy place for all, and donned the costume of the Huntress to hunt down wrongdoers. Barbara had decided to let her join to prevent her from going over the line and murder anyone out of overzealous-ness; but also in order to get a line-in into the mafia families.

"No second dates, either, huh?"

"No, I'll have to check, though. I think his people called me again, but I wasn't interested in a vapid playboy, even if he has more money than Jesus."

"Vicky Vale," Selina reminded. "She has had a... somewhat lengthy relationship with Bruce some years ago."

"Sooo... the next answer in our mystery could probably be answered by interviewing an investigative journalist." Tim commented.

"Oh, no..." Barbara grinned mischievously. "Not this investigative journalist. I know just the journalist to talk to when it comes to gossip among themselves."

Dinah snorted a laugh. "I thought you didn't like her."

"I liked Vale less," Barbara griped. "Plus, Vale is already getting news on Bruce's probable child; why shouldn't I send Lois Lane the allegations of the Bane Conspiracy?"

"Conspiracy with who?" Dinah asked curiously.

"Oh, the Waynes, of course, to get rid of the Court of Owls," Barbara smirked. "Why should we be the only ones racking our respective and collective brains when we can have someone else on the ground doing the grunt work?"

"Babs, you can be... pretty evil sometimes," Selina remarked. "I know there's got to be a reason why I like you."

"I'm also awesome with technology and can launder your ill-gotten money and make it legal and undetected." Barbara pointed out.

"Oh no, that's why I liked you." Helena quipped smirking. "Seriously, how many mob family can say their ill-gotten money is accountable by law?"

"As long as it is within the facets of the law, and so on and so forth... Anyway! Tim, you're quiet for more than two seconds. I'm always nervous when you're quiet."

"Just thinking..." Tim said, looking a little lost in his own brain. He often does that when he has at least a dozen scenarios running through his mind. Through the time of Barbara knowing him, Tim would probably be the only person whose claims of 'just thinking' wouldn't immediately be picked on by anybody.

"Care to share with the class, kitten?" Selina prompted.

"It's not fully mapped yet... but I was thinking. What if the Waynes aren't... didn't cooperate with Bane in order to destroy the Court of Owls, and they're literally being hostages in their own home? What if Bruce Wayne has predicted something like this could happen, and has gotten himself all prepared all the way to ten years ago when he wedded Talia Al Ghul? I mean, who would have had enough firepower to defeat Bane other than the Al Ghuls? Look at Jason," Tim pointed out. "He threw Bane out the window as if he was a fly. While Jason is as solid as a rock but isn't a metahuman - Bane is. He was assigned by Talia herself - out of Gotham - to protect and guide Damian-- why? What's so special about Jason Todd? Why did Talia choose him? Why didn't Bruce Wayne - at least - act shocked when Damian said he was his son? Surprised, sure. But not shocked or in denial.

"Who's gonna win if Bane turned out to be Dr Wayne's son? Who's gonna lose? What will they lose? Who is Bane accountable to? If none, who planted the idea of him being Dr Wayne's son? Because from what I've read about him, he was born and raised in a prison with his mother - no mention of a father. His mother was an insurgent of Hasaragua, fighting against US-condoned democracy. And while there was a record of Dr Wayne being there, there was no exact date and length of stay, because he was there privately and not as a part of Médecin sans Frontieres or something like that.

"What about Mrs Wayne? She wasn't a poor or uneducated woman, since she was a Kane. Society-wise, do you think she would have tolerated her husband's indiscretion, both then and now? Yet she kept quiet for nearly two months. She has a Ph.D. in psychiatry, and would she be the ones to keep quiet about DNA testing and all that? Personally, I don't think so. If my mother - a little 'lesser' society lady compared to Martha Kane-Wayne - ever got a word of a child that 'probably' got fathered by my dad, she would have demanded a divorce right away without bothering with a paternity test, sure. But my dad, who was also a society man, would have at least attempted to convince her that it was a mistake and/or it was a lie. What best method to decide a child's paternity than DNA test?

"The criminal front in general - especially the costumed criminals - has been pretty quiet since Bane eliminated the Court of Owls. Why? That's rather stupid since we know that the Court's Talons were the ones who made moves to 'discourage' the costumed freaks. Annnd... that's where I couldn't map out things further." Tim rambled.

"Keep talking, even half sentences are better than none, Timmy." Barbara prompted. Tim might have had a brain that worked a mile a minute, but he was still very young and would often get flustered with himself. Barbara, on the other hand, has an eidetic memory, and things Tim said tend to stick to her brain and would fill the gaps in any puzzles she might be thinking about. Even half sentences.

"Right, I do the fact spreads, you do the jigsaw-puzzling." Tim nodded. "The murders of Talia and Ra's Al Ghul. Jason said they were deliberately murdered in a way that they would never be able to be resurrected through the Lazarus Pit. The perpetrators would be the League of Shadows, a rogue splinter of the League of Assassins. Lead by Lady Shiva. Why? Why were they murdered? Why now and not - say - next year or last year? Who benefited by their death? Aaand... I'm done, for now, I think..."

"I... can feel a headache brewing," Dinah admitted. "You and your conspiracy theories." she rubbed Tim's head fondly. Tim gave her a half-smile, still trying to articulate the thoughts in his head.

"That's why we need him, he takes the most random input and makes a theory out of it, and some of them would actually make sense. I'll start a search string based on some of your questions. If you have more, don't hesitate to tell me, Tim." Barbara realized belatedly that her tone sounded dismissive, and turned to Tim. "Want me to call up for Chinese and powwow a little more?" she added.

Tim shook his head, still glaring blankly. "Thanks, I gotta go... I've some... things to look into. Thanks, Babs," he replied, ending it with a genuine smile as he got up.

"Want to come home with me, Kitten?" Selina asked, worry for Tim apparent on her normally-blank face.

"No, thanks, Ma. I gotta go back to the mansion, just in case, right?" Tim pointed out.

"Then Dinah should go with you," Selina decided.

"She's coming there later, right, aunt Dinah?" Tim asked. Dinah nodded.

"I'll get home with food, so don't worry about that, kiddo." she said. Tim waved them all and then walked out.

Once he was out of the door, Selina sighed. "Ah, young love..."

"Right? Remind me to check in on him before going to the House. I don't want to walk in on something and have him traumatized." Dinah agreed.

Barbara glared at them quizzically, and then at Helena, who shrugged. "Grayson said it first, I think. Our kitten is growing up. I just hope that Jason guy is worth his firsts..."

The memory of Tim gawking at Jason when he thought Barbara wasn't watching flashed in her mind.

Oh.

And then of Jason blatantly checking Tim out just before Oracle made her appearance, and at times when her Oracle projection was turned off.

"Oh boy," she sighed.

"That's about it in a nutshell. Good thing I've told him of the birds and the birds..." Selina grinned slyly.

"Millennial parenting at best, Ms Selina Kyle." Dinah grinned. "Come on, let's go patrol and induce the fear of goddesses to Gotham's low-lives before inducing maternal fear to our little kitten."

"...or to the big tabby. We'll see," Selina added, waving as she and Dinah walked out of the room.

Suddenly Barbara felt a little sorry for Jason. Just a tiny, teensy, weensy bit of sorry.

#Batless!AU #jaytim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Barbara Gordon #Selina Kyle #Helena Bertinelli #Dinah Drake #Oracle

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seasonsofeverlark · 3 years

Text

Family Prayer

Author: @mega-aulover

Prompt: Buttercup and Diwali are not things that go together. So even though Katniss dosen't like him much, she and Peeta try to make things easier for Buttercup on that day. [submitted by @everlurked]

Rating: Fluffy G

Author’s Note: This is a story about Diwali and wouldn’t have been possible without @cadsingh77 who spent weeks allowing me to ask all sorts of questions about Diwali and what it means to her. I patterned it on her descriptions. She read it, as well, to make sure there were no cultural faux pas. I apologize if there is anything amiss. Also, I’m remiss if I do not mention @norbertsmom who at the eleventh hour betaed this story. She’s my rock my bestie, and I would be nothing without her.

__________

Peeta glanced at his suit in the closet. His hands shook.

In a few hours he was going to meet the family of the love of his life.

He looked at the phone in his hands. He was lying in bed researching everything Diwali. His girlfriend Katniss had gone over the topic. She explained that just as sunset happens an elaborate puja, a prayer ceremony is done in a temple to begin the holiday. But to most Trinidadians or Trinis, as she called herself, like her family, they said little personal prayers in front of Laxmi, Saraswati and Ganesh and then they would light the diyas, little clay lamps, that they were going to placed in all of the rooms of the house.

Katniss made it all sound so simple. Diwali was a celebration of light. A victory over darkness. A day to wear new clothing, beautiful jewelry, sing, dance, pray, and light diyas. Katniss said any other guests would arrive after the prayers and they would have a ton of food and everyone would eat and hang out, kids would light sparklers, and there would be singing and dancing too.

Curious, Peeta watched every Bollywood movie on Netflix. Movies, however, never really explained everything. He put the phone down. He had to be honest with himself; Katniss’ assurances aside, he was a fish out of water no matter what he did. He was going to meet the most important people in Katniss’s life, her family.

In contrast, his parents were Dan and Cindy from Port Jefferson, Long Island. They owned a bakery near the ferry. They were dull people, they were like the parents of Ian Miller from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. But a lot colder and more dysfunctional, dressed in tans and beiges. Peeta constantly questioned why they would own a bakery that matched the color of bland. They never veered from the menu. Never introduced a new seasonal baked good. Peeta was stuck in that rut until he met Katniss and his entire world changed and color was introduced into his life.

Katniss was the electric jolt that kickstarted his dull heart to life.

The first time he tasted roti, the buttery tasting flat bread he literally cried.

From the pictures that Katniss shared of her family, he could tell they were a riot of awesomeness.

Katniss and her parents hailed from Trinidad and Tobago. Her family moved to Long Island from Germany. Her father was an engineer and physicist. He worked at the superconductor in Germany and then came to Long Island so that he could work on a project at Brookhaven National Laboratory. Her mother worked at Stony Brook University. She ran the nursing department.

Peeta and Katniss both attended Stony Brook University. He was on his way to a yoga class and she was in her Pink boxing class. From the glass covered room Peeta watched her hit the punching bag like Joe Fraser, and he was a goner. Peeta had a thing for strong women. His first middle school girlfriend bossed him and made him carry her books to and from class and he was a sucker for her, but she broke his heart. She told him she was only using him to get to his older brother Ryan. Peeta battled so much darkness in his life and what he needed was to chase the darkness away and to let the light into his heart. But he couldn’t deny he liked strong women.

There was something about a strong alpha woman who knew how to get things done, unlike his mother who was passive aggressive, and banged the pots in the kitchen and slammed refrigerator doors.

He sighed as he worried about tomorrow. He googled Diwali’s greetings and butchered the language as he tried to speak in Hindi.

Peeta sighed heavily.

Katniss’s mother invited him over the phone. She wanted him to come over before the prayers began. It was an honor because he was Katniss’ boyfriend, someone she chose despite her father trying to get her to date the son of a friend of his. Katniss put her figurative foot down and claimed she was dating Peeta. Her father didn’t want to meet him, but he knew of him.

So the pressure was on to be perfect. He didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing, especially in front of her family. His hands shook, this was important. He wanted to make a good impression on Katniss’ family, even if her father didn’t like him or the idea of him. Peeta wanted them to like him because, truth be told, his own family didn’t like him.

Peeta loved his family, but ever since he was little, he knew he didn’t fit into the landscape of his family. He was labeled as the emotional one. He was too irreverent for them. Peeta liked color. He loved to paint. He enjoyed the change in seasons where his family loved one season, summer, because they generated the most money then.

His family liked one or two flavors. Peeta loved all flavors, spicy ones, bold ones, subtle ones. They hated that he was always pushing to change the menu at the bakery. His childhood room was always the one his parents never showed off, because as a teen he painted the walls of his room every shade of orange. Peeta knew they sighed in relief when he decided to stay in the dorms at Stony Brook. His football scholarship allowed him to have that opportunity. He trained hard, studied hard, and loved hard.

“Katniss,” her name escaped his lips like fervent prayer and a wish. He loved her, was consumed by her, and he was so overly happy that she invited him to meet her family for Diwali. And now he had so much pent up energy he couldn’t sleep.

His teammates made fun of him, because he got a goofy lopsided I-got-my-hippopotamus-at-Christmas type grin, whenever Peeta thought of Katniss. He closed his eyes picturing her olive skin, thick straight dark hair braided into a rope, small pert nose, and silvery eyes that were breathtaking. Though it wasn’t her physical parts that made him fall in love. It was the woman who lay beneath the surface.

What made him sit up and take notice of Katniss after he saw her box, and he was out of the yoga room, was that there was a blonde girl at the gym working out. There were these idiots guys making fun of her, calling that poor girl fat, just because she was full figured. Katniss walked straight up to the guys and gave them a scowl full of fire and brimstone, called the girl hot and told her that if she were gay she’d do her in an instant. Then she told the guys that they could jackknife themselves off the roof of the building. Peeta had never seen anything sexier in his life. Katniss was full of fire and she was resplendent more so than the sun.

His phone buzzed drawing him away from his memories as the message came in.

KATNISS: Why are you still up?

Peeta grinned, his phone betrayed him. In some phones a little dot showed up next to the person when they were on their phone. Katniss must have noticed.

PEETA: Stalk much.

KATNISS: LOL

Peeta could see those three little dots moving as she wrote a reply.

For the most part Katniss wasn’t a talker. Unless she was passionate about the topic and then she was a chatterbox.

KATNISS: FUNNY. Seriously, tomorrow is going to be a long day. You need to sleep.

PEETA: Because tomorrow I am going to meet your family.

Peeta could see her rolling her eyes even through the phone.

KATNISS: You don’t have to be nervous.

PEETA: If you tell me all I have to do is be myself, I swear I am going to come dressed as Buddy the Elf.

KATNISS: Dork.

PEETA: Yes, but I’m your dork.

KATNISS: They’re going to love you.

Peeta sighed.

PEETA: This is important. I want to make a good impression. Your family is important to you and given that my family…

Peeta sighed. He’d brought Katniss to the bakery to meet his family because they didn’t have time for him. His father was pleasant. His mother, however, spoke loudly and slowly as if Katniss didn’t speak English. Katniss spoke various languages and was extremely intelligent. Her mother wanted her to be a doctor, but Katniss had a passion for the environment. Her major was environmental studies, with a minor in geology. She was brilliant and he felt like the dumb jock.

KATNISS: Your family is fine, well except for Ryan. Someone needs to examine him.

Peeta chuckled. His brother Rye stared at Katniss as if she was Christmas, Easter, and summer vacation all rolled up into one. He then proceeded to flirt with Katniss, by using every campy movie line known to mankind. In typical Rye fashion because he’d done it before to their other brother Lyle. Unfortunately in that instance the girl in question dumped Lyle to go out with Rye.

He sighed. That was his dysfunctional family. Family gatherings were uncomfortable events. They weren’t exactly nice to one another.

PEETA: I have no excuse for my brother.

Peeta decided to follow his text with a self deprecating joke. A truth, his family thought him the odd one in the family.

PEETA: But Ryan isn’t the bad apple. I’m not sure you know this, but I am the black sheep of the family.

KATNISS: You mean the sexy one.

A grin spread on his face at her compliment.

Katniss’ family was conservative, and by extent, so was Katniss. He respected her boundaries and her values. Family was everything to her and he loved her because of it, Katniss would lay her life on the line for her family.

PEETA: Have I told you today how much I love you.

KATNISS: No, but I do love to hear you say it.

Peeta pressed the little microphone and recorded his voice, which sounded rougher to his ears than normal.

PEETA: (a voice email) I love you Katniss. I love your mind. I love your kindness. I love how you always talk about your sister Prim. I love the way you adore your dad. I love the way you look up to your mother. I think you are the most beautiful soul. And I am nervous because if you are wonderful, then your family has to be just as great.

He meant every word.

They’d been dating for the last few months, but they’d been friends for two years. They weren’t easy years because of their schedules in school and the fact that her father had a mild heart attack right after they met. Peeta put himself in the friend zone because that’s what Katniss needed. He didn’t want her to feel pressure to feel romantic toward him when her dad, the most important man in her life, was ill.

In the end, the bonds of friendship grew to a love so sweet and pure, that it shined out of her silver eyes. The first time she realized the love she held for him was more than friendship left him breathless, like stepping into a world filled with brilliant colors, light and joy.

KATNISS: (a voice email) I love you too.

Her voice was breathy and filled with her heartfelt emotion.

Peeta couldn’t help but sigh contentedly.

KATNISS: Now as for tomorrow, don’t worry. When they see what a great guy you are, they will love you.

Peeta sighed.

KATNISS: NOW GO TO SLEEP, MELLARK!

PEETA: Yes ma’am.

He grinned and would have followed her directions, but instead he stood from his bed and went into his suite kitchen. He needed to bake. It was the only thing he knew that would calm him down. He decided to make chocolate using the vegetarian items he purchased in the store. Come the morning he would make the Laddoos he planned to bring with him. In Hindi they were called Laddu but in Trinidad they were known as Laddoo.

Making the chocolate eased his nerves, so he actually got some sleep. In the morning, he showered and set to work on making the Laddoos. By three o’clock he was done, and all he had to do was wrap up the presents. Taking a red ribbon, he tied each box the way he’d done so many times at the bakery.

His suitemates were gone. No doubt causing trouble somewhere on campus, which gave Peeta the time he needed to get ready. He took out his new suit. Even though Katniss told him he could wear a nice pair of slacks and shirt, Peeta bought a suit that was on sale for the special occasion.

Taking a deep breath he took the small presents he had for her family. They weren’t necessary, but he wanted to make a good impression. He gathered up the Laddoos, the chocolate, the flowers - marigolds he sourced at the local home depot, and the paintings he made of her family made from the memory of the pictures she’d shown him.

He drove, heading to the Everdeen home in Mount Sinai. The cottage-like house looked like something out of a movie or TV show: warm, inviting, like a real home, one filled with love, and not pretend.

As he walked up, he could hear laughter, genuine laughter, followed by singing and joy. Running a hand through his blond wavy locks he took a deep breath. “Okay Mellark, just be yourself,” he whispered, as he stood in front of the door.

He raised his hand to knock on the door and his breath caught at the man standing there looking more like a navy seal instead of a physicist. This was Katniss’ dad. His chrome eyes were hard and they took him apart, much the way a defensive end could read a play and pick it apart while holding their defense line.

“Happy Diwali.” Peeta tried to say confidently but his voice cracked. He could feel himself sweating.

Her father raised an eyebrow. “You are Peeta Mellark.”

Peeta nodded.

“Rahul!” A statuesque woman with blonde hair and pale blue eyes swatted Katniss’ father’s arm. He watched her sneak around him, dressed in a traditional red sari with gold thread. “Please behave.” Mrs. Everdeen quietly gave her husband a look. Her golden bangles clinked as she placed her hand dramatically on her hip. Peeta was glad Katniss had gone over the different fashions. He studied each one because he would do anything for Katniss.

Peeta watched as her father’s hard analytical eyes softened the moment he beheld Katniss’ mother. Peeta could see how Katniss’ parents were a unit of one. They were in love and either one would fight the shadows and all of the evil in the world for their other half. “Anjali.”

“I am Katniss’ mother, this is her father,” her pale eyes sparkled. “Please come in, we were waiting for your arrival. Come in,” she ushered him.

The home was two stories, to the left a halfway with rooms, to the right a living room, dining area, and a den to the far back. The house was decorated with warm rich colors, but everything was tied around the family, as pictures dotted the walls. There were lights everywhere hanging from the walls, the clay diya’s sat on the mantel. Peeta stood in front of a picture of Katniss on her father’s shoulders, her twin braids flowing, her eyes crinkled in pure happiness.

“Ohhhh you’re cute,” a younger, but deeper voice than Katniss’ said with impish mischief.

Primrose took after Katniss’ mother, with the flaxen hair and the pale blue eyes. Katniss explained that her mother was of British descent, while her father’s family, although sporting a European name, was from India. His great-grandparents came to Trinidad, fell in love with the island and stayed.

Her mother walked away from her very wealthy family back in Trinidad to marry Katniss’ father. It was a little like they were the original Romeo and Julliet.

His parents got together because his dad knocked up his mom.

“Primrose!” Mrs. Everdeen admonished.

“What,” Prim said. Her pale blue eyes were inquisitive as she walked around him. The way Katniss talked about her sister, Peeta had expected a little kid, but Prim was as tall as he was. Her loose pajama-like trousers that narrowed at her ankles, called shalwar, swooshed around as she made her round. Her red kameez, a flowing tunic with intricate gold patterns reminded Peeta of the pattern Mrs. Everdeen wore on her sari.

Prim was everything Katniss was not. She was a bold bright bubbly girl, who at this moment was making sure he was the real deal and not some mindless jerk. He stood, letting her because it was important that her family liked him. He wanted to be accepted. He felt his face flame up under the scrutiny.

“I understand why my boring sister is constantly sighing.”

Peeta grinned, then he said, “Oh these are for you.” He gave them the presents. The flowers, the chocolate, and the sweetened chickpea Laddoos he made by hand for them.

“Oh these are fragrant, where did you purchase them?”

“He made them.” The soft voice that came behind him made his heart rate triple.

Peeta turned around and there stood Katniss wearing an emerald green lenghas. She had explained what it looked like, but at this moment, his brain that was always filled with words was momentarily empty, vanquished by her beauty. He swallowed, mouth slightly ajar. His eyes darted from the perfection of her face with those silvery eyes that captivated him, and the peek of dark hair that was hidden by the sari.

Katniss held a shiny brass plate, she called a Tarrier, but in Hindi it was known as a Thali, containing coconut, almonds, and other sweets. Katniss told him the plate belonged to her great-grandmother Veronica. When her mother married her father, her great-grandmother gave it to her insisting it should go to her first born. He swore for a second he could see a miniature Katniss with his eyes staring up at him and holding the Tarrier.

“He made them?” Primrose asked, Peeta could hear the intense curiosity in her sister’s voice.

“His family are bakers, and Peeta is an amazing cook.”

“Really,” her father said, and his voice, the way he said that one word snapped Peeta out of his hazy fog.

“Ah,” he nervously said. “I made her cheese buns,” Peeta felt the heat rising from his neck and caused those red splotches that his brothers made fun of.

“Cheese buns,” her father repeated.

“When you were in the hospital, daddy,” her eyes did not hide the pain of recalling those days. “Peeta noticed I wasn’t eating and cajoled me into eating cheese buns,” Katniss words were so soft. “He was the friend I leaned on for support when…” her voice trailed.

Peeta watched her father’s face take a look of adoring tenderness at his eldest, and when his eyes turned to Peeta they weren’t as frosty as they had been.

“He even took me to temple to pray,” Katniss whispered.

“In Selden?”

“Yes, daddy,” Katniss quietly said.

“Rahul,” Katniss’ mother chided. She cupped his cheeks, “Such a nice young man. Did you make the chocolate as well?”

Peeta nodded, his eyes went back to her father. He couldn’t mess this up.

Her mother smiled serenely, then her eyes lit with happiness as if she made a startling connection. “Oh! Pundit Sharma was right; they were destined in the stars.”

“Star crossed lovers just like you and mom,” Prim said.

Her father cut his eyes away.

“Oh my, these chocolates….” Prim moaned.

“Primrose!” Her mother admonished.

“What, he said they were for us,” Prim shrugged, plopping a chocolate in her mouth. “I’d say he’s golden. So what does a cheese bun taste like?”

“Primrose, really, must you think only of your stomach?” Katniss shook her head.

“Girls,” their father said in a stern tone of voice. “It’s near sunset. Upstairs with the lot of you. I swear corralling a dozen baby ducks would be easier.”

The women headed upstairs. Peeta wasn’t sure, but her father swept a hand for him to follow him upstairs.

Peeta wasn’t sure what he was expecting, hopefully like something out of Khabi Kushi Khabi Gham. They had a small altar where he watched all of the women present the offerings and began to bow their heads. He stood behind quietly observing, but when Katniss began to pray it was like a song and her words that he didn’t understand wrapped around his heart and his lashes fluttered closed and a single tear fell down his face. Song after song her voice combined with that of her father, her mother and sister caused him to realize just how much he wanted to be part of this family, to be loved and accepted.

He too prayed for a family to want him, to be needed.

Peeta was so wrapped up in the moment when it was over he opened his eyes to find her mother standing before him with trembling lips, and watery blue eyes.

“Bend down son,” her father said with warmth in his voice. “She’s going to honor you by putting the sindoor on your forehead.” He pointed to his forehead, though his eyes had completely lost the frost. They were filled with admiration and the same warmth he had in his voice. Her father looked at Katniss and nodded as if giving her his blessings.

Unsure if what he had just seen was real, his eyes went to Katniss, but Prim said, “Go ahead Peeta, my father has just fallen for you too.” Her voice squeaked with that enthusiasm only a teenager could have. She wiped the tears from her face as well.

Peeta bent down slightly. Mrs. Everdeen’s hand slipped to the Tarrier and with her ring finger she pressed it into the red dust Katniss’ father called sindoor.

The press of her finger was light. “When my daughter marries you. You will sprinkle this sindor over the part in her hair to symbolize her marriage to you.”

Peeta’s eyes flew to her father who nodded. “Welcome to the family son.” He clasped his back and said. “Now let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

Peeta couldn’t help but grin. He gazed at Katniss who came to him, her smile shy. He was going to follow them, but katniss put her hand on his, then stepped up and placed a small peck on his cheek. Then winked sassily. “I told you they would love you.”

And like that, his prayers were answered; he now had a family.

Years later, when he stood in the same position watching his little girl singing the puja, holding the brass tarrier, alongside Katniss. Just as in that memory from years ago he listened to Katniss voice blend with their daughter. Their voices blended in with his father-in-law Rahul, Primrose and her soon to be fiancé. Peeta was grateful that his prayers were answered, the darkness was swept away and light filled his soul. And he was granted the family he always wanted.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mega-aulover #submission #prompt

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aerinmelina · 3 years

Text

The Fablehaven gang plays Apples to Apples, pt. 1

Tanu: Is everybody here?

Vanessa: Warren’s grabbing something from the kitchen. He’ll be here soon.

Dale: What’s the game tonight?

Kendra: Apples to Apples!

Bracken: I haven’t played before. Can you explain the rules to me?

Seth: You want green cards, and you play red cards to get the green ones.

Bracken: Okay…

Kendra: The red cards are nouns, the green cards are adjectives. We each take turns playing a green card down on the table. The player who puts a green card down acts as the judge for that round. Everyone else puts red cards in the middle; nouns to match the adjective. Then the judge reads off the nouns and decides who wins.

Dale: That sounds simple enough.

Tanu: It’s not difficult. You’ll catch on quickly. Bracken, too.

Warren: *carrying a tray of mugs, passes them out to everyone* What’d I miss?

Seth: Mmm. Hot cocoa.

Tanu: We’re playing Apples to Apples. You’ve played before?

Warren: *rubs his hands together* Yeah. Got it. Love this game. You’re all going down.

Vanessa: How about you start, Tanu? And then we’ll go clockwise around the table?

Tanu: Sure thing. You deal the red cards?

Vanessa: On it. *Vanessa deals 5 red cards to each person at the table* First person to four green cards wins? Since we’re a large group?

Kendra: Sounds good to me.

Round 1

Tanu: *places a green card on the table* The word is effervescent. Fizzy, exuberant, and vivacious are a few synonyms. Choose your cards.

Kendra: So, Dale and Bracken, you want to choose a red card which goes well with the word “effervescent.”

Seth: Or you can pick something opposite.

Kendra: Can we please not confuse them?

Seth: What? It’s the judge who decides who the winner is. Tanu can pick whatever card he wants.

Kendra: But the rules-

Seth: There aren’t any real rules. Stop making up rules where they don’t belong.

Warren: *snickers*

Kendra: *to Dale and Bracken* Just choose a word you think will go well with the adjective. *rolls her eyes*

*1 minute later, Tanu collects the red cards*

Tanu: Let’s see. The word is effervescent, and our options here are… ‘my appendix’, ‘all-nighters’, ‘prom night’, ‘star gazing’, ‘my cold, dead fingers’, and ‘Sugar Plum Fairies.’ I’m, um. What a great way to start off this game. *laughs*

Warren: My cold, dead fingers. Nice.

Tanu: I was part of some pretty crazy all-nighters when I was a kid. That’s the winner. Who played it?

Vanessa: *grabs the green card* I’ll take that.

Warren: Seth? Did you play the dead fingers?

Seth: Yeah.

Warren: Good one. *high-fives Seth*

Round 2

Seth: My turn to judge. *cracks his knuckles* Okay. You all ready for this? The word is pointless. Do your worst.

Warren: I’ve got this one. Watch. He’s gonna pick mine.

Vanessa: Just play your card.

Warren: I’m going to win.

Vanessa: You’re not going to win if you don’t play the card.

Warren: *tosses his card into the middle of the table and smiles* I’m winning this.

Kendra: I don’t know about that; mine is pretty good.

Vanessa: Not as good as mine.

Dale: I feel like I don’t have any great choices for this one.

Bracken: Me neither.

Seth: Just throw a card on the table. It’s okay if it doesn’t make sense. I’m fine with a little chaos in my life.

*Dale and Bracken choose cards, Seth picks them all up*

Seth: Alright. We have ‘grocery express lanes’, ‘a broken collarbone’, ouch, ‘inferiority complex’, hahahaha that’s awesome, ‘reality TV shows’, true, ‘a fender bender’, and ‘elections.’

Kendra: Elections?!

*Tanu, Vanessa, Dale and Warren laugh*

Dale: Feels that way sometimes.

Seth: Inferiority complex. That one wins. That’s the most useless of all of those options.

Warren: See? I told you I was going to win. *takes the green card*

Vanessa: The word was pointless, not useless.

Seth: I am the judge. I have spoken.

Warren: *to Vanessa* You played the elections card, didn’t you?

Vanessa: *sighs* Yes.

Warren: That one would’ve won in my books.

Vanessa: Too bad you weren’t the judge, then.

Round 3

Kendra: *draws a green card and places it on the table* The word is heroic. Courageous, daring, and valiant.

Bracken: I don’t have a good one for this round, either.

Dale: Neither do I.

Warren: I might, if she thinks creatively.

*Kendra gathers all of the cards*

Kendra: Alright, so the word is heroic, and here are the answers: ‘a Hail Mary’, ‘Uma Thurman’, ‘Haley’s Comet’, ‘hybrid cars’, ‘the eye of the storm’, and ‘Benjamin Franklin.’ Seriously, guys? This was the best you could do?

Seth: Sometimes the cards are great, and sometimes… they’re not.

Kendra: Haley’s Comet? Hybrid cars? Heroic? Really?

Warren: Just pick a winner, Kens.

Kendra: *bites her lip* Fine. Ben Franklin, I guess. You weirdos.

Tanu: Why, thank you, Kendra. *takes the green card*

Round 4

Bracken: My turn, right?

Seth: Yep. Draw a green card and put it in the middle of the table. You’ll pick the winner, so don’t play a red card.

Bracken: Got it. *places a green card neatly into the center of the table* Taboo. Forbidden, prohibited, or unmentionable. Hmm. This could be interesting.

Kendra: I don’t have any good ones for that.

Warren: Welcome to all of us during the last round. I’ve got a good one this time. *plays a card*

Vanessa: Me too. *plays her card*

*1 minute later, Bracken gathers up the cards*

Bracken: Ooh, these look good already. Let’s see. ‘Skeletons in the closet’, hmm. Yes. ‘A watery grave’. Indeed. ‘Holiday office parties’-

Warren: *chokes on his cocoa*

Dale: *slaps Warren’s back*

Warren: That doesn’t help!

Dale: *teases* I could get you something stronger to drink if you’d like?

Warren: Just. Just stop.

Dale: *shrugs*

Seth: *looks between Dale and Warren* Why do I feel like I’m missing a story here?

Vanessa: *grinning* Because you are.

Kendra: … Are you going to elaborate on that one?

Warren: Nope. She’s not. No.

Vanessa: It involved some alcohol.

Warren: I said no!

Dale: And a stolen suit jacket.

Warren: Stop!

Vanessa: And a massive hangover the next day.

Kendra: At an office party? Have any of you ever even worked in an office?

Tanu: *amused* I heard about that. Warren became a legend with the younger Knights of the Dawn after that.

Warren: I was 21!

Vanessa: That’s actually where we met.

Warren: Don’t remind me.

Seth: Were you there, too, Dale?

Dale: Nope. I just got to clean up the mess which was Warren when he got home. We still have that suit jacket somewhere. I have no idea where he got it from.

Warren: Keep going, Bracken. Please. Change the subject.

Bracken: Actually, I’m quite intrigued. I’d like to hear the rest of the story.

Warren: *sighs* I got drunk during an undercover mission. It wasn’t my finest moment. I was young and stupid.

Vanessa: Old enough to know not to drink while undercover.

Warren: People kept handing me glasses full of champagne. What was I supposed to do?!

Vanessa: Keep the same one on you all night. Sip here and there. Don’t finish it. And don’t accept any more than that!

Warren: Young and stupid. I’ve grown since then.

Vanessa: Sometimes I wonder if that’s a true statement.

Warren: *rolls his eyes*

Vanessa: *rolls her eyes*

Bracken: Ooookay, starting over. The choices are ‘skeletons in the closet’, ‘a watery grave’, holiday office parties’, ‘moustaches’, ‘the Garden of Eden’, ooh that’s a good one, and finally, ‘the French Revolution.’ Hmm. I like many of these, but I think the most taboo of them all would be either The Garden of Eden or A watery grave. I think I’ll choose the watery grave.

Warren: Good choice. *grabs the green card* Dale, you’re next.

Bracken: Who played the Garden?

Seth: Me.

Bracken: Good one.

Read part 2 here!

#fablehaven #aerinm writes #script-style #there'll be four parts to this #yes i played an entire game of apples to apples by myself for this #kinda sad when you think about it LOL #also took forever #anyway i digress #have some silliness

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novissa · 4 years

Text

it’s brighter now

here’s the nova birthday fic finally!! here’s the original post. also this wasn’t supposed to be this long but it’s over 3k words now i guess

“Nova!” Ruby yells, catching her by surprise. Nova almost loses her balance as Ruby throws her arms around her.

“Is everything okay?” Nova asks, cautiously hugging Ruby back. The touch doesn’t shock her as much as it used to.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about your birthday!” Ruby says, jokingly offended. “I know we couldn’t celebrate last year, with everything… but we could have a party this year.”

Nova freezes, trying to remember the date. It’s… “Sweet rot, it’s May 26th,” she says. Ruby’s beaming face confirms it. “That means… tomorrow’s my birthday.” She completely forgot. Birthdays never really were much of a focus with the anarchists, and her presents mainly were science experiments with Leroy. Occasionally Winston would tell her a story or draw something for her, but most of the time it was just a present to eat something other than honey.

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Ruby says. Nova shrugs.

“How did you even figure out my birthday?” Nova asks instead of replying to that.

“Your file,” Ruby says. “I was doing desk work for Thunderbird earlier and I wanted to see when your birthday was.” She smiles. “I mean, I didn’t expect it to be this soon, but I’m glad I didn’t miss it!” When Nova raises an eyebrow, she adds, “Well, Leroy also told me.”

Nova can’t hold back her smile. Of course. “You really don’t have to do anything—”

“Shut up, Nova,” Ruby says fondly, “We’ll throw a party for you. Balloons, cake, the works.”

Nova frowned. “I don’t want a party,” she says quickly.

Ruby looks at her, then nods. “Okay, if it makes you uncomfortable we don’t have to have one. But we have to celebrate somehow! What if it was just the team? We could go to the movies or go skydiving or something!”

Nova laughs. “Do people actually do that? Anyway, I’d… be alright if it was just the team. And Narcissa. But no skydiving or anything. Maybe something we’d do on a normal night. We could just watch a couple movies at home.” It surprises her how… almost excited she is for this. While she’s still not too big on the idea of a birthday party, she really does love these guys. Her friends. Friendship is still a concept that is fairly new to her, but she’s glad she has them. Maybe… maybe she’s not so far gone after all.

“Yes!” Ruby says, hugging her again. “Okay, this is the greatest thing ever. I’ve got to go, but we’ll figure out a time for tomorrow. Okay. See you later, Nova! You’re the best.”

Nova smiles. “See you,” she says lightly. “Oh, but please don’t make a big deal. No presents or cake or anything—”

Ruby’s face lights up. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

“I swear to the stars, Ruby, if you’re about to text the team to plan something elaborate—”

Ruby laughs. “Sorry, I have to go! My… brothers need me to help them with their… science project!”

Nova sighs, but a smile plays on her lips. She can’t say she’s too terribly annoyed about all of this. It wasn’t long ago that she was completely uncertain about where she fit with her team, but now… things really are good. Sometimes she still hears gunshots in her head when she closes her eyes, but she doesn’t need to run anymore.

(The second Ruby’s out of Nova’s line of sight, she sends a text to the rest of the team.)

Ruby to nova defense squad May 26, 2:42 p.m.

GUYS WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY

Nova’s trying to figure out how to make Oscar a cane-gun when he knocks on her door. He hands her a cupcake and she takes it, slightly puzzled as to what’s going on. “Uh… hi?” she says.

“Nova! Happy birthday-eve!” Oscar says enthusiastically. “Ruby told me about the plan for tomorrow night, and I wanted to stop by to see how you were doing with all your inventions and stuff. And my grandma insisted I bring you a cupcake.”

“Thanks,” she says. “Um, do you want to come in?” He’s acting kind of weird. “I can show you how your cane-gun’s coming along.”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Oscar says, slightly distracted. “What do you use to make your inventions? Like, what supplies?”

Nova blinks at him. This is odd. “Well, it depends…” She explains the different materials she uses the most, though Oscar mainly looks confused.

“Uh, could you write that down?”

Nova nods, reaching for a sheet of paper. “Why? Are you… considering learning more about this?”

“Yeah! That’s exactly it!” Oscar says quickly, looking very relieved. “It’s so interesting hearing about your inventions and I’m thinking of giving it a try. That’s why I wanted to know.”

Nova smiles. She loves to see other people getting excited about engineering. “We can go supply shopping together! And I can help you! Are you free right now?” She runs through the list of everything she’d need to help him with in her head.

“Um— no. Sorry. I’m meeting up with Ruby in a few minutes,” he says apologetically. “But maybe sometime this week?”

“Yeah!” she says. “Is there anything else going on?” She studies him carefully, watching him fidget with his cane. Something’s definitely not normal. “Are you… okay?”

“Yeah, totally!” Oscar says (not very convincingly). “Anyway, thanks for talking to me about this. And the design for the cane-gun looks awesome! I’ve got to meet up with Ruby now, but seriously. Thank you. And happy birthday-eve.”

Nova smiles and closes the door behind him. That was weird.

Oscar to nova defense squad May 26, 2:58 p.m.

Ahhhh I’m not good at lying

Nova heads to Leroy’s apartment the next morning. She tries to visit him as often as possible, and it’s always interesting to see his latest science experiment. He greets her at the door with a grin. “It’s my favorite birthday girl!” he says, wrapping her up in a hug. Nova feels like she’s gotten caught in quite a few hugs lately, but she finds that she doesn’t mind it as much as she thought she would.

“How have you been doing?” she asks him, eager to get the attention off of her birthday.

“About the same as you asked last,” he says. “I’ve been talking to Hugh and Simon a little.”

This catches her off guard. She figured out that most of the council isn’t actually that bad a while ago, but it’s still so odd to think of Leroy chatting with his once mortal enemies. She tends to try to keep her life compartmentalized, and the idea of a former anarchist and the head of the Renegades council gossiping over tea is too weird for her. “How are they?” she asks, still trying to wrap her head around that mental picture.

“Good,” Leroy says. “I’m glad that Simon can be around Max now. It sounds like they’re very happy.”

Nova smiles at that. She wishes the best for them, even though it wasn’t long ago that she attempted to murder Hugh. “I’m glad. They deserve to be happy.”

Leroy watches her carefully. “About that… are you?” At Nova’s confused look, he adds, “Happy. I know you said it wasn’t joy you were looking for when I gave you the choice to be free, but now… are you happy?”

Nova thinks about it for a moment. She never thought that it would be possible, after the death of her family and her search for revenge. Even now, there are hard days for her. Sometimes she likes to imagine an alternate universe where things aren’t so broken, where she has a sister and a few less scars and can fall asleep every night. But in this universe… so many things have gone wrong and have shattered and broken into a thousand pieces. But maybe she doesn’t have to imagine all these universes. She thinks of every kind thing her friends have done for her, Ruby’s insistence that they do something for her birthday, Max’s geology jokes, the cupcake Oscar gave her, and Adrian’s hand in hers. There is goodness in this world. While she can’t fall asleep every night (and often likes the perks of not having to sleep), she feels safe for the first time in years. Maybe her family’s dead, but she’s made her own. She has scars all over her body, but she finds that she doesn’t hate them anymore. So maybe she is. She looks at Leroy and nods. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Yeah. I think I am.”

Leroy’s face softens. “That’s good. I’m glad. So am I, I think.”

She smiles again. It’s a new feeling, and a bit disconcerting, but she kind of likes being happy. She’s never felt so light.

“What are your plans for your birthday?” Leroy asks.

As much as Nova wanted to avoid this topic before, she doesn’t hate it as much as she thought she would. It’s an instinct to hide, to pretend to hate things so that she doesn’t feel bad about not experiencing it before, but it’s also nice to let herself hope. “I’m going to hang out with the team tonight,” she says. “I don’t want something huge, but I do like being with my friends.” Friends. The word still feels foreign on her tongue. “I might hang out with Adrian this afternoon, too.”

Leroy smiles. “That sounds good.” It looks like a thought occurs to him. “But I think Adrian might be busy this afternoon. Something about, um… Max.”

“Huh,” Nova says, looking at him closely. Leroy’s a pretty good liar, but after spending ten years with him she can tell when something’s off. Interesting. She wrinkles her nose as she detects a new scent. “Wait… is something burning?”

Leroy’s eyes widen. “Oh! That’s one of my new experiments. I’ll take care of it. You should go. I don’t want you to have to deal with something like this on your birthday.” He shoos her out the door.

“I can help—” Nova’s cut off by Leroy waving at her and then closing the door. “Oh.”

Leroy (direct message to Simon Westwood) May 27, 2:07 p.m.

I think I burnt the cookies.

After leaving Leroy’s apartment, Nova goes back to her own apartment before realizing that she left her jacket at Adrian’s house a couple days ago. She contemplates just waiting until tonight to pick it up, but she kind of wants something to do. She calls him, but he doesn’t pick up.

Nova (direct message to Adrian Everhart) May 27, 2:40 p.m.

hey i left my jacket at your house on monday can i come over?

Adrian 2:41 p.m.

Sorry I’m not home! But you can pick it up tonight

Nova 2:41 p.m.

oh it’s okay i’ll just get it now i have the key

Adrian 2:41 p.m.

No don’t do that my dads are trying a new recipe Kasumi gave them and you do NOT want to get caught up in that

Nova frowns down at her phone and considers going anyway. Then again, it is just a jacket. She’ll get it back tonight. Instead she picks up one of the books she borrowed from Narcissa and still hasn’t started reading yet.

Ruby to OPERATION DAYDREAM May 27, 3:01 p.m.

Running a little late but I’ll be there in 5!

Nova’s almost halfway through her book when Adrian texts her. She glances at the text, then gets up. Her fingers shaking, she quickly types out a response, then rushes out of her apartment.

Adrian (direct message to Nova Artino) May 27, 4:51 p.m.

Nova I’m really really sorry to do this on your birthday and that it interferes with our plans but can you come to my house right now?? It’s about Max and we really need your help

Nova knocks on the Everhart-Westwood household’s door. When she doesn’t get a response, she fishes out her key from her pocket and unlocks it, worry gnawing at her mind. She steps inside. The house is dark, but nothing about it seems unusual. Just… very quiet. She creeps into the kitchen, reaching out to turn a light on when she thinks she hears a giggle. She pauses, wondering if she imagined it. She steps forward, when the lights suddenly flicker on and there’s a chorus of voices screaming “Happy Birthday!”

She almost screams, and then realizes that it’s just her friends. Her entire team is there, along with Max, Narcissa, Simon, Hugh, and… Leroy. There must be a hundred balloons around the room, along with some messily hung streamers. Some slightly burnt cookies sit on the dining table, along with a cake that has “happy birthday” written on it in icing. It’s just so very ridiculous and insane and normal that she feels like she could cry. Everything about this has her friends’ handiwork, and she can’t help but laugh. This explains why everyone was acting so weird. “Sweet rot,” she says. “I can’t believe you did this.” She glances at Max, who is beaming at her. “Max is alright?” she asks, just to make sure. “That was just to get me here?”

Max hugs her. “I’m fine.”

She lets herself relax and smiles at her friends. At her family. “This is the best birthday ever,” she says. “Come on. Let me hug you.” And she absolutely cannot stand group hugs, but she figures that it’s called for in this situation. And maybe she doesn’t hate things as much as she thought she did.

The cake is delicious. The cookies are noticeably burnt, but the fact that Leroy cared enough about her to try to bake was enough. More than any of that, though, being with the people she cares about is the best part. She doesn’t care if she sounds cheesy; it’s true.

Once they finish off the cake, Danna suggests that they move downstairs. “We can open presents and then watch some movies,” Danna tells her, and Nova wants to complain about the fact that she didn’t want any presents, but in the end she decides to just nod and thank them.

“Go on without me,” Nova says. “There are some things I want to talk about with them.” She nods towards Hugh, Simon, and Leroy. Adrian squeezes her hand as he heads downstairs.

Once they’ve all left, she turns to Leroy. “Thank you,” she manages to choke out without crying. He’s been the closest thing she’s had to a father for over ten years, and she knows that he always tried to make her birthday special when she was with the anarchists. And now that they’re finally out of the woods, he found a way to make her feel loved. “The cookies were lovely.”

Leroy smiles his lopsided smile that she loves so much. “You’re welcome,” he says. “And no, they weren’t.” He shrugs. “I think my baking skills have improved, though,” he says. “And I barely did anything. Your friends really are something, Nova.”

“They really are,” she says. Turning to Simon and Hugh, she tries to figure out what to say and fails. “Thank you,” she says instead, and tries to convey everything she’s not saying into those two words. It’s not just for the party.

“Of course,” Simon says, and in those two words he tells her that he understands. He says them so earnestly, and it means that they would never consider not doing this. “Thank you for everything that you’ve done for Adrian.”

Hugh nods, and Nova almost loses it. She’s not used to crying. “Nova… your parents would be so proud of you.”

This time she can’t stop it, and a tear rolls down her cheek, followed by others.

Hugh pats her on the back. “Happy birthday.”

Once Nova has dried her eyes, she joins the others downstairs.

“Finally!” Oscar says teasingly. “You have to open my present first.”

She laughs and humors him, and then laughs some more when she finds what’s inside. “So this is why you were talking to me about my inventions.”

Oscar shrugs. “To be honest, everything you said went over my head, but I would still like to give it a try.”

To no one’s surprise, Narcissa’s gift is a couple books that she picked out for Nova, and Nova’s glad that she can finally say that she started reading that book she borrowed a couple months ago. There was so much bad blood between them not long ago, and Nova’s astounded by how far they’ve come since then. And also how different things are from the time they dated. It’s so strange to think of that now.

Ruby gifts Nova a friendship bracelet, and Nova barely stops herself from crying again. It fits on her wrist perfectly, next to her father’s bracelet.

Max is next, and he hands her a small model of a house. “It’s from my replica of Gatlon City,” he explains, “so technically Adrian made it. But it’s our house. Just to remind you that while you have your own place now, you’re always welcome here.”

Nova sniffles. For a happy occasion, there seems to be a lot of crying.

Danna gives her yarn and knitting needles. Nova hugs her, and she’s relieved that things seem to be normal now between her and Danna. “They’re extra sharp so that you can also stab people with them,” Danna says with a wink.

Finally, Adrian hands her a canvas. It’s a painting of people standing under a starry sky. There’s her parents, exactly how she described them to Adrian, and Nova is painted in the center, surrounded by the rest of her team, as well as Narcissa and Max. She also sees Hugh and Simon, and Leroy, and… and Callum and Winston. There’s even a little Maggie in the corner, her face drawn in its usual frown.

She wipes at her eyes, not wanting to get tears on the painting. “Adrian… this is beautiful.”

Adrian kisses her on the cheek. “I wanted to paint something that would show how much you mean to us. And what better way to do that than to have a painting of all of the people who love you?” She smiles, and hugs him. “I left some space so that we could add on, because there are going to be so many more people who love you in your life.”

“I love it,” she says. And I love you.

“Now, are we ready to watch a ton of movies?” Ruby asks, her eyes sparkling. Nova smiles at her, trying to thank her for putting all of this together. Ruby smiles back.

Nova (direct message to Adrian Everhart) May 27, 9:55 p.m.

hey i didn’t really get a chance to say as much earlier but thank you so much for your present adrian. it really means a lot that you would care enough to do that

Adrian 9:55 p.m.

You’re welcome!!!! I love you Nova

Nova 9:56 p.m.

i love you too.

#renegades #renegades trilogy #nova artino #adrian everhart #novian #nodrian #nightsketch #danna bell #ruby tucker #oscar silva #narcissa cronin #max everhart #hugh everhart #simon westwood #leroy flinn #my writing

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maraudererasmut · 5 years

Text

A/S/L

You've been connected with a stranger. Say hello!

Stranger: Hi

You: Hello!

Stranger: asl?

You: Really? That's the first thing you ask?

Stranger: isn't that what people do here?

You: Not if they want to have a real conversation…

Stranger: does anyone actually want to have a real conversation on this site?

You: I mean… I do. Why, you don't? Why are you here?

Stranger: if I said sexting would you judge me?

You: Yes.

Stranger: well then, I'm here to talk to random people I guess?

You: Nice catch.

Stranger: I thought so

You: Do you use this site a lot?

Stranger: define a lot

You: Everyday?

Stranger: no

You: Once a week?

Stranger: …

Stranger: maybe.

You: Hey, I don't judge. I'm here, too.

Stranger: why are you here?

You: I dunno, I'm just bored, I guess? I like talking to people. Especially strangers. It doesn't matter what I tell them or what they tell me. We'll never meet again.

You: Y'know?

Stranger: yeah I get that

You: You can be completely honest with a stranger. You don't have to hide anything.

You: Except, of course, your name and address and any identifying information…

You: But everything else is fair game!

Stranger: makes sense

Stranger: so is there anything in particular that you wanted to talk about?

You: Oh… um… I don't know. I guess not. How about you?

Stranger: no

You: Okay… um… What kind of things do you like? Do you have any interests or hobbies?

Stranger: i like drawing I guess

You: Oh, that's awesome! What kind of stuff do you draw?

Stranger: just random things…

Stranger: sometimes what's on my mind, sometimes comics, sometimes characters from things that I like

You: What kind of things? Books? TV shows?

Stranger: um

Stranger: tv shows I guess

Stranger: books too

You: Which ones?

Stranger: well…

Stranger: have you heard of the timetale series?

You: Oh my god, that's my favourite!! I love the Timetale Series!!

Stranger: the books or the movies?

You: The books, obviously. Don't get me wrong, the movies are fine, but the books are SO much better! They go into so much more detail! You actually get to learn about Tesser's character and his motivations! Not to mention they completely took Arch out of the movies altogether!

Stranger: and I thought I was a dork

You: Haha, sorry. I get a little nerdy when I'm talking about things I like!

Stranger: don't be sorry. tts is my favourite

You: Who's your favourite character?!

Stranger: seith

You: Oh my god, SAME! I love the way they've developed his arc! And the fact that they weren't afraid to make an openly gay character! That's so important in fiction. God, I want him to end up with Tesser so badly.

Stranger: he won't

You: Why do you say that?

Stranger: have you read book six yet?

You: Of course.

Stranger: tesser likes finley

You: No he doesn't! He sees her like a sister!

Stranger: no

Stranger: it's obvious that they're going to end up together

Stranger: that's how books like that work

You: This one is different! I honestly think the author is going to make the main character bi. I really do!

Stranger: seith won't end up with tesser anyway

Stranger: he's gonna end up with camden

You: Camden?!

Stranger: yup

You: Why do you say that?

Stranger: because of the sexual tension

You: That's not sexual tension! They hate each other!

Stranger: exactly

You: It's not gonna happen

Stranger: it will

Stranger: and when it does I'll say I told you so

You: How? We're on RandoChat. It'd be statistically impossible to match with me again!

Stranger: you could always give me your email address

Stranger: that is

Stranger: if you wanted to continue talking

You: …

You: I guess…

You: Maybe at the end of the chat…

Stranger: cool

You: So… what else are you into?

Stranger: I like music

You: What kind of music do you listen to?

Stranger: mostly classic rock

Stranger: stones

Stranger: beatles

Stranger: zeppelin

Stranger: acdc

Stranger: queen

Stranger: I could go on

You: Those are awesome bands! I'm a big fan of Queen myself.

Stranger: who isn't

You: Good point.

Stranger: learning the guitar now actually

Stranger: hoped I could play bohemian rhapsody before christmas

You: Awesome!

You: Why Christmas?

Stranger: iunno

Stranger: it's just an arbitrary date

You: So…

You: What do you do? Are you in school? Do you have a job?

Stranger: I'm in school

You: What do you study?

Stranger: english

You: Seriously?

Stranger: yeah why?

You: Well, your grammar kind of sucks for someone who studies English.

Stranger: my grammar's fine

Stranger: I just don't care about typing properly or anything

Stranger: what about you mr grammar

Stranger: what do you study?

You: How do you know I'm a guy?

Stranger: just a hunch

You: Well, I am, but you shouldn't assume that.

Stranger: but I was right

You: And how do you know I'm in school?

Stranger: another educated guess

You: Do elaborate, please. How did you make an “educated guess” about my age?

Stranger: well, you like tts

Stranger: if you were that much older than me you probably wouldn't have read the books

Stranger: if you were that much younger than me you wouldn't have grown up with the books and would therefore probably like the movies more

Stranger: so I'm guessing you're around 21-22 ish

Stranger: you also live in a commonwealth country

Stranger: because you added a u to favourite

Stranger: I'm gonna guess you're in the same timezone as me

Stranger: because if you were in australia it would be pretty damn late

Stranger: and if you were in canada you'd probably be eating supper or something

Stranger: tell me if I'm way off base

You: …

Stranger: yeah that's what I thought

Stranger: so mr early twenty person in the uk

Stranger: what can I call you?

Stranger: other than stranger of course

You: ….

You: You first.

You: Actually…

You: Can we use nicknames? Is that okay? I just… It's weird giving out my name to someone in the internet, y'know?

Stranger: sure

Stranger: I'm… padfoot

Stranger: 21

Stranger: I live in england

Stranger: your turn

You: I'm Moony. Also 21. Also England. Please don't stalk me.

Stranger: I promise I won't

Stranger: anyway you have as much information on me now as I have on you

You: So the name Padfoot… where'd that come from?

Stranger: friends called me that in highschool cause I was so quiet

Stranger: I always snuck up on them

Stranger: my email address is even [email protected]

Stranger: how'd you get the name moony?

You: I have Lupus, so my friends in high school used to joke that I was a werewolf. Get it? Lupus? Anyway, because of that, they called me “Moony”

Stranger: oh… I'm sorry

You: No, it's fine. It happens to people. I'm over it. Not the Lupus, I can't get over that. But I'm over the pity party. It's not something I stress about anymore. It's just part of my life now.

Stranger: shit…

You: Ahaha! Okay, enough about that! Let's talk about something less depressing!

Stranger: yeah okay

Stranger: you never answered the question about what you study

You: Computer Science. I want to make video games one day, so I'm a coder.

Stranger: cool

You: Yeah…

You: Oh, shoot! I just noticed the time! I have to scram!

Stranger: oh

Stranger: it was really awesome talking to you

Stranger: honestly

Stranger: if you wanna keep chatting later you can always give me your email address

Stranger: but only if you want

You: Oh! Yeah! I forgot that! It's [email protected]

You: It was awesome talking to you, too! I hope we can do it again sometime!

Stranger: yeah same

You: Bye!

Stranger: bye

You have disconnected from the chat. To start another chat with a stranger, click here.

#text fic #my first text fic!#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #to be continued #my writing #my fic #ficlet #internet texting #wooo!#the omegle fic that nobody asked for #but i couldn't help myself #it was such a weird time for the internet!#omegle

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stupidnephilimlove · 5 years

Photo

Written for the @frightening-fall-fic . A few days late, but here’s my take on the week 1 prompt: bad decisions were made. Read here or on AO3 Summary: When Izzy stumbles upon an old ritual book in a used book store, she decides it's perfect for her Halloween party. It's supposed to be a little fun, but the book and the idea give Alec the creeps. But really, what could go wrong? -

Alec wonders how - despite wanting to do something epic every year - Isabelle manages to leave settling on a Halloween idea until the last minute.

"Just throw a fancy dress party," Alec suggests, only half paying attention as his eyes scan the bookshelf. This was supposed to be a solo outing, an afternoon of perusing the recently opened used book store, but Isabelle insisted she tag along.

Isabelle throws Alec a disgusted look in response to his suggestion. "That's so unoriginal, Alec. It has to be better than last year."

Alec's pretty sure they had this exact conversation around a year ago, but he figures mentioning that isn't going to help the situation. Instead, he pulls a book from the shelf and scans the blurb.

"So do a seance or something," Alec says.

Isabelle sighs at his lack of interest and pulls the book from his hand. She sets in back on the shelf and looks at him.

"We did that last year. And yes, it was awesome, even if I say so myself. But it needs to be something different."

Alec resists the urge to roll his eyes at her and moves deeper into the store. He spots the fake spiders and cobwebs covering a section in the corner.

"Maybe they've got something over there?" Alec gestures to the Halloween themed area as he speaks. He doubts it, but if it means he can look around the store in peace for a few minutes, then he's more than willing to suggest it.

Mumbling to herself that Alec's no use, Isabelle heads off in that direction and Alec goes back to his book search. He makes it ten blissful uninterrupted minutes before Isabelle comes bounding over, excitement in every step.

"I've got it! Alec, it's the perfect idea," Isabelle says.

Finally.

"Oh, yeah?"

Isabelle holds up an old, battered book. The binding is starting to come away, and the gold text on the cover has faded so much that Alec's unable to make out the words.

"A ritual," Isabelle says, offering Alec the book.

Alec takes it, and he's off-put by the way the leather feels in his hands. He flicks carefully through the pages, they're well-worn and in what Alec takes a guess at is Latin.

"I'm not sure, Izzy."

There's something about the book that has the hairs on Alec's arms rising.

"Oh come on... it'll be brilliant and fun. No one will expect it."

Alec's sceptical about the 'fun' part, but if Isabelle's got it in her head that this is what's happening, then Alec knows better than to argue with her. So when Isabelle insists she buy the book, Alec makes his first terrible decision by not talking her out of it.

Alec stands outside of the intricate chalk circle that Izzy had Clary draw on their floor. That better come off, or he's going to kill her, Alec thinks. There's music playing, something instrumental, and it's giving Alec this feeling of tension. The feelings only increased by the dozens of candles that flicker, shadows chasing each other around the room.

It's a small group tonight, just Clary, Isabelle, Simon, Jace and Alec. Five Izzy had said once she'd settled on the ritual - one for each point of the pentagram the circle surrounds.

"Are you sure about this?" Alec asks.

Jace gives him a companionable punch to the shoulder. "It's just a bit of fun. Don't tell me you're scared, Alec?"

"No... 'course not," Alec says. That's a lie, but he's not going to admit his unease to his brother. There's this feeling of wrong and stop and this is a terrible idea, and it's not like Alec at all. He doesn't believe in this stuff. He believes in what he can see, what he can understand, what he can explain, and Alec tries to shake off the feeling.

Isabelle instructs them to take their places at each point of the pentagram. She tells Alec his point represents fire and she gives him an unlit candle to hold. Clary's is air and she holds a feather, Simon's is earth and she gives him a jar of dirt, and Jace's is water and he grasps a cup half-filled.

"And I represent spirit," Isabelle tells them, taking her up her spot.

Then in a hushed tone, voice serious, Isabelle says, "Before we begin, I have to warn you all not to step into the circle until the ritual is complete."

"Why, what happens if we do?" Simon asks.

Izzy grits her teeth at the interruption, the charade falling for a moment. "Then I'm gonna kick your ass for ruining the evening, Simon. Trying to set the mood here."

Simon grins sheepishly and nods his head. "Oh, sorry. Go on."

Isabelle finds her character again, turning to pick up an intricate bowl. She sets it down by her feet just inside of the circle and then stands to full height again. Isabelle picks up the book, and the room falls silent.

God, why does the sight of that book give Alec chills?

Isabelle holds the worn book in one hand and gracefully lifts the other. Four sets of eyes are trained on her and Alec's heart feels like it's beating double time in his chest.

"Me invocare te in tenebris," Isabelle says. The words sound odd and mispronounced, but the tone of her voice has Alec holding back a shiver and clutching his candle.

Izzy throws her hand out, something falling from her fingers and into the bowl in front of her. Smoke rises from the bowl on contact and she continues speaking.

"Venire ad me."

Neat trick, Alec thinks.

Isabelle repeats the words again, voice louder. "Me invocare te in tenebris. Venire ad me."

The room feels cooler, noticeably so, and Jace shifts uncomfortably next to Alec. Alec's glad he's not the only one this is freaking out.

"Me invocare te in tenebris," Isabelle says. The pronunciation is better, at least to Alec's ears, and each word is filled with conviction.

"Venire-" Isabelle's voice cuts off mid-sentence and she doubles over, clutching her stomach and cries out, "No! Please."

Clary reaches out from beside Isabelle in concern, and despite himself, Alec steps forward. "Izzy?"

Isabelle raises her head, and there's a goddamn grin on her face, before she doubles over for an entirely different reason, laughter shaking her body.

"Oh, you should have seen your faces," she says between gulps of breath as the group grumbles.

"I knew she was playing," Alec hears Jace tell Simon, and Simon nods saying, "Yeah, sure. Me too."

Alec sighs in exasperation, and as he does, his candle flickers to life. Alec almost drops it in surprise.

"Nice one, Izzy. Quit it now." Alec says, trying to keep the shakiness from his voice. Her tricks are really beginning to get to him.

Isabelle's laughter dies out and she looks at the candle. "That wasn't me."

"I'm not falling for any more of your pranks," Alec says taking a step back to his previous position. His foot stops as if it's hit a wall, and Alec looks down. He's standing inside the circle.

"What is this?" he asks, eyes lifting to Isabelle's.

"Now who's playing pranks?" Jace says.

He tries to move again, panic rising in his chest, but he can't. He doesn't know how Isabelle's doing this, but it's not funny anymore.

"Alec, come on," Clary says and Alec can hear the annoyance in her voice.

The music abruptly stops playing and all at once the candles go out, plunging them into darkness. Except for the small flicker of light from the candle Alec's holding.

There's the smell of burning. Alec tells himself it's due to the candles all burning down to the wick at the same time. And the lack of music? It's probably on a timer. The whole thing some elaborate plan of Izzy's to scare them.

"Izzy, this is a bit much," Clary says in the dark.

"Seriously, this isn't me," Isabelle insists. "Who hijacked my evening?"

The group breaks out into bickering. But Alec doesn't move, a hand closes over his shoulder and there's breath at the nape of his neck and Alec's going to kill Isabelle as soon as the lights come back on.

"I hate the twenty-first century," a male voice, low and sultry, says close to Alec's ear.

The bickering instantly stops. Alec doesn't know that voice, and though the hand is gone from his shoulder, his blood runs cold. The candles suddenly flare back to life and Alec's not sure who screams. Jace? Simon? Possibly Alec himself. Because standing in the circle in front of Alec is a man - at least, he looks like a man. Of course, he's a man, Alec tells himself. A very well-dressed, well-styled, entirely too hot, man. Apart from the eyes.

The eyes are golden and catlike and... fucking brilliant contacts, that's all. Alec's feeling a little hysterical and takes a breath to calm himself.

"Mmm," the man says, tilting his head as he looks at Alec. "A worthy offering though."

"Jeez, Izzy. Where'd you find this guy?" Jace asks.

"Enough," the man says, voice deep and commanding, lifting a hand, and for a reason Alec cannot explain, silence falls. The man turns back to Alec. "You may call me Magnus."

Alec doesn't want to call him anything. Okay, there's a thread of desire that has Alec imagining another evening, in a completely different setting with this Magnus. But right now? Right here? Alec wants this whole nightmare to end. He considers that they must all be in on this, and he doesn't know how or when, but he's going to get them back.

"What do you request of me, in payment of your soul?"

"M-my soul?" Alec stutters. Magnus can't be serious, but Alec can't bring himself to look away from Magnus' eyes. He feels almost entranced by them.

"Yes. You summoned me. I answered the call. Now make your request known."

"What? Like getting that promotion my boss has been holding back?" Alec asks stupidly.

Magnus nods and steps closer. "Unimaginative as usual, but if you insist."

"What are you doing?" Alec asks, but he doesn't move away.

"To be binding, I must seal all business with a kiss." There's a suggestive raise to Magnus' eyebrow and Alec feels his cheeks flush.

Is this guy - in the middle of this prank - really flirting with Alec?

Oh, what the hell. Magnus is hot, and Alec's not giving the rest of them the satisfaction of him backing down. Bolstered, Alec closes the space between them.

Magnus reaches up, hand settling at Alec's neck, and heat spreads through Alec from that simple contact. Magnus pulls him closer, leaning in to take Alec's mouth with his. The kiss is like nothing Alec has ever felt before, and he opens his mouth, accepting Magnus. Alec feels it everywhere, feels a fire burning beneath his skin, and if he examined it closer, he might see that it isn't entirely caused by desire.

The candles burn brighter as they kiss, and as Magnus' lips leave Alec's they blink out again. Alec can hear someone scrambling for the lights and there's a whisper at Alec's ear in the last of the darkness. "I look forward to collecting you, Alexander."

Simon flicks the switch and the room is illuminated, but Magnus is nowhere to be seen.

"Can't believe you stole my Halloween prank," Izzy says, clearly annoyed, though Alec thinks they all look a little shaken.

"I didn't," Alec says. "Didn't you guys set me up?" Dread is creeping up on him again.

Izzy shoots him an unimpressed look. "Honestly, Alec. You didn't need to go to that much trouble for a make-out session."

"Yeah, dude. My eyes cannot unsee that," Jace says.

And the group comes to the conclusion that Alec was messing with them despite all of Alec's protests. He tells himself it's just part of their prank, just them trying to psych him out even more.

Though, as Alec heads to bed at three am, a flash of catlike eyes in the mirror, the phantom press of lips against his, and that heat still burning under his skin, a part of him wonders if he really did just sell his soul.

Shaking his head at his fanciful turn of thoughts, Alec crawls into bed. He doesn't believe in souls, so he can't have sold one, and Alec puts the whole thing down to too much sugar and alcohol.

However, when Alec's boss offers him a promotion the next week, Alec struggles to convince himself it's merely a coincidence.

#frightening fall fic fest #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #malec #sorta #oh look i wrote a thing #fic: venire ad me #week 1: bad decisions were made

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ryuukenden4 · 5 years

Text

Do What Makes You Happy

(Okay fair warning, this is a very long post with some seriously personal stuff in it.)

I know I don't usually open up on here, but I think it's time I finally do it to get it off my chest. This has been a topic I often find myself thinking about. It usually makes me feel really shitty when I do, but I don't ever talk about it with anyone. I think I need to let all of my thoughts air, even if no one listens.

This post is about "cringe culture." Basically, judging someone for something they love. Not criticizing or internally judging, but shaming. This is a topic that sits badly with me on both ends of the spectrum. I both have judged people and been judged, and both sides feel bad.

Let's start off with why I'm even making this post. I've thought for a long time about myself and the stuff I enjoy. I know it isn't normal, and I know a lot of people in my age group can't relate. I love anime, it's been an outlet for me and my weird fantasies (like dragons and swords, not the other kind) for almost 10 years now. Video games are some of my lifeblood even though I guess gamer girls don't exist?? I immensely love making characters, fan and original. Fictional characters are my cornerstones where real people (usually) tend to fall flat. Let me elaborate.

Anime has helped me cope with many difficult things over the years. It helps me connect with family and friends. It gives me a creative outlet for not just drawing and writing, but thinking. Even cliché anime always make me see the world in new ways, and I love it for that. It's helped me develop myself and my style for such a long time that I can't imagine being parted from it any time soon.

From anime especially comes my love of fictional characters. I have always loved them (my first favorite characters were Jim Hawkins and Bilbo Baggins, and I'll never forget that fact about myself), but that love became intensified as I grew older. I don't necessarily see myself in them, but I enjoy getting to know them. It's almost a personal connection with the characters. My favorites are almost always established from their introductions because something with them and me just...clicks. Even if I have no clue who or what they are, there is something there I feel. Like they're an old friend or something. They make me feel not alone, as strange as that sounds. Like for instance, take Mirio, my current muse on here. His sunshiney personality and goofy nature brighten my day. His selfless nature and general goodness make me strive to be a better person. As soon as he was introduced, I knew he was gonna be one of my favorites, I could just tell. He feels like a friend to me, and I really feel a connection with him.

Moving from characters, video games have allowed me to explore new worlds and escape the mundanenss of our own. I'm not trying to sound deep, but having a way to escape this life for a little while is nice. The interactiveness of video games is so wonderful, and it really feels like I'm shedding myself and becoming someone else for a spell. I especially love games that either have an awesome protags who is loveable and you root for them, or ones that you create your own character and save the world.

Which brings me to my last and most sensitive topic; my characters. I have made characters since I was able to. From my warrior cats to my anime side characters all the way up to my completely original ones, my characters have always had an influence on me. Rarely do I make self-inserts, but when I do they are versions of me I wish I was. (My first warrior cat was pretty much me as a cat, I'll admit. And my first anime OC was also loosely based off me.) But I have come so far with them from what I used to do. Now my characters all have their own lives and I'm just telling their stories. Yes this sounds cheesy, but I hear that this is what makes a good character. When you sit down and "chat" with them and they are separate from you. I don't want to say none of my recent characters are like me, because obviously new characters are still forming from MY brain, but I do my best to develop them like functional, separate people and not fictional versions of me. And yes, often I do end up shipping my characters with other characters (my own or canon), but I never make it about me. It's about two fictional characters that are fun to imagine going to see a horror movie or taking a walk or cuddling under the stars.

As much as I love all of this, I'm terrified to talk about my interests with others. This post has been extremely hard to write so far, but I'm forcing myself to do it so I can finally be at peace with my negative thoughts. I find it hard to talk with others for fear of being labeled "weird" or "cringey." And it's not even that I mind their comments, I mind and worry about what they DON'T say. I always get nervous talking about stuff with people because I worry they're silently judging me. And sure, I understand what I do isn't everyone's cup of tea (nor do I expect that literally at all, especially shipping OCs and canon characters). I just worry it actually affects how people view ME as a person from what I like. That's why I hide my interests in my pysche, I try to avoid making others uncomfortable with me, even if I feel uncomfortable hiding myself. It all stems from my lack of self-confidence and fear of being hated. Judging and being judged are very stressful things to undergo, especially for someone not happy with who they are 90% of the time.

I mentioned earlier I've experienced both ends of this. So let me discuss. I had a very judgmental mindset of people for a long time based upon what they liked. I judged people hardcore for liking things that were ridiculous to me. I never said it to them, but my thoughts were mean and malicious. Looking back on myself for that, I find it disgusting, and I'll be the first to say I was wrong. I honestly think my spitefulness stemmed from my own bad experiences I'll describe later. What people like doesn't usually harm me in anyway, and so what makes me the one who dissuades them from doing what they love? I am a devout Christian, and one of my life-changing takeaways from those experiences was to step back and let God be the judge. My judgment ultimately means nothing to someone's life, and so they should be allowed to do as they please and God can decide if it's wrong or right at the end. Again I say, if it makes you happy, DO IT.

On the other end, I have been ridiculed for what I like. It's been little things like disparaging comments from family members or even anon hate (old Tumblr accounts now deactivated). I still remember my worst experience was on a platform called Flipnote Hatena. Basically, you drew little animations, often to music, flipbook-style on your DSi and posted them for others to see. I made a Flipnote for my Spyro fan character (very much a self insert...I was like 10) and Spyro to the song "Listen to Your Heart." I was so proud of my work, and it was my best yet. I posted it, not expecting much, as my stuff wasn't very popular. Then I got a notification for a comment. I was so happy to see what someone said, praising my art. Turns out it was another user telling me I was wrong for shipping my dragon and Spyro because he only loved HER character. She peppered in death threats and told me to kill myself. She proceeded to make Flipnotes about wanting to fight and kill my main avatar (my warrior cat at this point) to prove she deserved Spyro. Obviously I was distraught. I just wanted to share my love for Spyro and what I thought was my best animation, and I got told to die and threatened to be killed all for what I enjoyed doing. I know nothing would have come of it in hindsight, but being a 10 year old, that really scarred me. I caved and deleted my Flipnotes with said characters and never posted them again. I let that person win, and erased a portion of myself from my heart.

This is the event that usually makes me question if what I'm doing is "okay." I get bouts of negative thoughts toward myself and my "weirdness." I find myself wanting to delete all my characters and writings and everything. I tell myself what I'm doing is wrong, and it would make so many people angry and mean if I posted it. And then I tell myself I don't NEED to post it to be happy. I don't need validation on my stuff. I don't need fans of my characters or for people to ship my couples. I just need someone to affirm I'm okay, that I'm not wrong. I need someone to tell me "if it makes you happy, do it." I need to be reminded I'm also a person with feelings that matter. I'm uncomfortable deleting all of my hard work. I'm angry for deleting that character I put hours of research and thought into. I'm mean when I think of someone being so bothered by what a stranger does that they have to verbally abuse them for it. That's why I'm extending that for anyone listening. If you need to hear this, you are valid. If it makes you happy, please do it. Know that someone out there is rooting for you. I am 100% behind you.

That old show you watched with your middle school best friend? Watch it and relive some great memories! That cute idea you have for a scenario between your Naruto OC and Kakashi? Draw it, it's probably super cute! That idea for a for a story based solely upon platonic love and not romantic? Hell yeah, we need more of that content!

Basically, do whatever makes you you. True happiness seems like it's becoming hard to find nowadays, so if you find it, hold onto it. Never change for what you expect people want from you, and that doesn't just extend to hobbies. Be your awesome self. One day, someone will come along who loves what you do too, or will love you for being you. :)

Do what makes you happy.

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Dragon Ball Z 044

Last time, the crew from Earth finally found out that they weren’t on planet Namek at all, but a Fake Namek. This is the fourth episode of this arc, and I feel like they kind of made a mistake dragging it out for so long. I think the issue here was that Toei needed to do some filler episodes, but most of the cast was dead, hospitalized, or en route to Namek, so the only possible way to go was to have Bulma stop off someplace for a side-story, except she would never do that, because the mission is too important. So someone had the bright idea to have her go to the wrong planet by mistake, and get scammed by a couple of aliens. It’s a lot like the Princess Snake episode from the Saiyans Saga, but Princess Snake worked a lot better because it was just the one episode. In theory, I could get behind a four-episode arc about the heroes being deceived, but the longer you draw out the deception, the harder it is to suspend the audience’s disbelief. Holes start to form in the plot. Princess Snake’s scheme didn’t make a ton of sense either, but her true motives were exposed so quickly that it didn’t matter.

I do like the designs for Lychee and Zurkuro. They bear a slight resemblance to Dodoria, but they’re different enough to keep things fresh.

I don’t know which one is talking right now, so let’s just say it’s Lychee. I don’t even know if that’s his real name, but whatever. He tells Bulma the truth: that they were castaways who got stranded on this planet much the same way Bulma’s group crash landed here. But Bulma’s ship is still mostly in tact, which means they finally have a chance to escape.

This is a flashback to how they found the Earth crew after the crash. Gohan’s pose is hilarious to me.

So why didn’t they just take the spaceship as soon as they found it? Well, Lychee says there’s a “cosmic tidal current” blocking their way off the planet. I’m guessing that same force was what made Bulma’s landing so rough.

The two aliens really did have telepathic abilities, which they used to find out everything they needed to know to deceive Bulma and Co. I’ll be coming back to this later.

Everything else that happened on this planet was an illusion generated by their psychic powers, which must have been pretty impressive, since they weren’t even nearby when they found the last Dragon Ball.

So why didn’t they just kill Bulma, Krillin, and Gohan and take the ship? Apparently they just didn’t want to? I doubt Lychee actually treated their injuries, though, so I’m guessing none of them were seriously hurt in the first place. On the other hand, it would be rather interesting if the gang really had been on the brink of death, and Lychee did everything in his power to save them, even knowing that he was going to trick them later.

What I’m getting at is that it seems like these two have a very strange sense of morality, at least by human standards. I think most people would agree that if you’ve already decided to betray three people and abandon them on a hostile planet, you might as well kill them, especially if there’s a good chance that they’ll kill you if they find out what you’re up to. Instead, Lychee and Zurkuro went through this whole elaborate ruse just to keep them occupied (and alive) before they had their chance to take the ship. Now that the conditions are favorable for launch, they’ve sprung their trap.

They even grab Bulma’s Dragon Radar and make plans to travel to Namek themselves, in hopes of finding the Dragon Balls. What a couple of assholes.

Krillin tells Bulma to go after them, since she’s the only one who isn’t tied up with nautilus tentacles. Incidentally, they’re not even that dangerous. Lychee and Zurkuro said they were man-eaters last episode, but this time they explain that the nautili will just hold Krillin and Gohan for a while and eventually let them go. This is a weird planet.

So here’s where things really go off-track for me. So these guys’ entire scheme was for the sake of taking Bulma’s ship, but they never figured out until now that they would need a password to get the door open. They literally read Bulma’s mind to find out about everything else they would need to know, but they just skipped the part about how to get into the ship?

It’s not like they didn’t probe her knowledge of the ship, either. They know that it’s operated by voice commands, after all. This seems like a pretty big plot hole to me.

While Bulma wonders what to do, Gohan and Krillin break free of the nautilus-creatures, because they have super powers. Really, it was kind of foolish of the aliens to think they could trap these two, knowing how strong they are.

Back at the ship, the aliens find Bulma and force her to open the ship for them. She suggests that they all go together, which seems like the simplest solution to all of this. Seriously, why did they treat this like a zero-sum game? Lychee and Zurkuro are literally trapped here, and when help arrives, they decide to viciously betray their saviors, albeit in a nonlethal way.

Well, they tell her that it’ll take fifty years for them to reach their own homeworld. Guys, you just told her you planned to go to Namek first. That’s where they’re going. Just hitch a ride to Namek, and then head back to Earth, and by then Bulma won’t even need the ship anymore, and she’d probably let them have it.

Also, why do they even care about going back to their home planet? Anywhere would be better than here, right? I understand being homesick, but this is a matter of survival.

Bulma starts to cry as they tell her that there’s snakes and lizards on the planet that she can eat. Well, she’d better not eat Snakey, because he’s awesome. Also he’s huge, so I don’t know if he’d be easy to cook.

The aliens get into the ship, but then the platform lowers and they see... Krillin! I don’t know why his signature catchphrase, “I hate snakes,” never caught on in the States.

The aliens aren’t much on brawn, but they’re desperate at this point, so they stand their ground...

SCHMACK.

YAHTZEE.

LIFTOFF.

TIME TO GO TO THE REAL F’N NAMEK ALREADY.

And these two idiots are stranded again. Congratulations, you played yourselves.

Meanwhile, Vegeta is also on his way to Namek. The narrator is careful to point out that he’s coming from a different direction. It’d be funny if he ended up on Fake Namek like a few minutes after Bulma left, and he ended up killing Lychee and Zurkuro.

Back on Earth, Goku still keeps trying to sneak out of the hospital. Dude, just chill out. Honestly.

Then finally Bulma’s ship arrives at the real Namek. Thank goodness. It took nine episodes, but we’re finally here.

This time Bulma leaves nothing to chance. After verifying their position, she starts checking the atmospheric conditions outside...

...Except Gohan and Krillin have already left the ship. Really, it shouldn’t be a surprise that it’s an Earth-like environment, since Kami and Piccolo were able to live on Earth.

Gohan thinks this place resembles where Piccolo trained him, so maybe Piccolo chose that area out of an instinctive yearning for his homeworld.

Bulma gets a signal on the Dragon Radar, so she’s feeling optimistic. Krillin and Gohan sense a lot of ki in the distance, but Bulma figures that must be the Namekians, since they ought to be very strong.

And then Vegeta lands on the planet. Ruh-Roh.

Krillin tells Gohan to suppress his power so Vegeta’s scouter won’t pick them up, and then he throws down his hat in frustration.

He starts improvising a new plan. Krillin suggests that Bulma leave the Dragon Radar with them while she returns to Earth. She promises to come back with Goku, but it’ll take two months to make the round trip. That’s a long time to be stuck on a planet with Vegeta.

Elsewhere, Vegeta starts taking stock of the situation. Frieza and his men are already here, but he has no idea about the Earthling contingent. He seems confident that he can whoop any of Frieza’s henchmen, but he admits that he wouldn’t stand a chance against Frieza himself. This would be the first direct confirmation that Frieza is stronger than everyone else.

Bulma sets up an interstellar communicator and phones... Master Roshi of all people. I guess she doesn’t trust her dad at all. She updates him on the situation, and tells him to fill Goku in, but not Chi-Chi.

Meanwhile, here’s a real, honest-to-goodness Namekian... and he’s dead.

As expected, Frieza has wasted no time gathering the Dragon Balls, and he already has four of them. Also, the Dragon Balls here are huge.

So yeah, this marks the official entry of Frieza into the story. He’ll be around for a good long while, so get used to him.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #gohan #bulma #krillin #goku #vegeta #lychee #zurkuro #frieza #zarbon #dodoria #master roshi #fake namek #real namek #dead namek #namek saga

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houseofvans · 5 years

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GETTING DOWN IN DETROIT WITH SHAINA KASZTELAN | HOUSE OF VANS POP UP

We caught up with artist Shaina Kasztelan to find out about her evening, what inspired her amazing mural, and what she’s got coming up for the rest of 2019!

Take the final leap!

Photographs by Laura June Kirsch

Who are you, where you from, and what do you do? My name is Shaina Kasztelan, I am originally from Sterling Heights, Michigan, but I am now based in Detroit. I am a multidisciplinary artist who works with painting, sculpture and installation. I like to work in a variety of mediums and learn new techniques so over the years, aside from my usual acrylic paintings, I have experimented with sewing, weaving, ceramic, metal, mosaic, encaustic, aerosol, resin, etc.

How would you describe your artwork and style? My style is like Lisa Frank on acid; it looks cute and innocent on the surface, but once you get passed the unicorns and rainbows, there’s some dark, psychedelic imagery oozing out from underneath the pits of hell. The majority of my artwork explores and critiques contemporary societies obsession with consumer products, pop culture icons, and internet culture. With my work, I try to draw attention to wastefulness brought on because of big advertisers telling us that we need to constantly buy new things in order to attain some sort of short-lived, faux happiness. There is so much discarded junk in this world, so I collect second-hand materials from thrift stores and mash them together with thick, neon paints to create a maximalist’s dreamscape–think happy 90’s girl nostalgia with a rebellious dark side, making treasure out of someone else’s trash. BUT I also am a firm believer that art doesn’t always need to have this crazy, deep underlying meaning–I like to make eye-catching things that just look cool!

What was your inspiration behind the mural you created at House of Vans Detroit? The mural that I created was meant to be a huge pop of color during this bleak, grey winter. The winters here in Detroit can be brutal, but they’re at least beautiful when the city is covered in a blanket of sparkling white snow, adorned with brightly colored Christmas lights. The problem, however, is that it has barely snowed at all so far this year. My partner and I live on the 14th floor of an apartment building with floor to ceiling windows, which is astounding during the lush green summers, but right now all we see is dull, dead brown and grey patches–it’s depressing! My mural is a happy psychedelic landscape of abstract shapes and patterns, blasting out of that grey area I’m trying to escape.

Who are some of your favorite local artists? And what’s your favorite part about the art community in Detroit? There’s really too many to name because this city is filled with such amazing talent, but some of my favorite artists living in the Detroit area right now are: Heidi Barlow, WC Bevan, Brach Goodman, Andrea Del Rio, Danny Sober, Martha Mysko, Willie Wayne Smith, Lucy Cahill, Stephen Cavanagh, John Maggie, Amy Fisher Price, Feather Chiaverini, the Hamtramck Ceramic crew, Paula Schubatis, Paul Johnson, Bailey Scieszka... the list seriously goes on and on!

The best part about the art community in Detroit is how active everyone is... there are exhibitions happening all of the time, and everyone comes out to show their support. It’s inspiring to be surrounded by such a strong work ethic and a lot of people who work non-traditionally that are pushing the envelope of what contemporary art is.

When you’re not making awesome artwork, what do you do to unwind? To be honest I am a workaholic and feel the need to create some form of art every single day in order to keep my sanity, BUT in the event that I allow myself time to relax, I love to: cook at home, play Katamari, read at the DIA’s Kresge Court, go for a joy ride on Belle Isle, browse antique stores, watch cartoons, cruise down the Dequindre Cut on my skateboard and explore the city on my bike.

Finally, what’s coming up for you in 2019 that you can share with us? First and foremost I’m super excited to get back to work at my favorite job ever– building floats for the Thanksgiving Day Parade here in Detroit. It’s a seasonal gig that takes up a little more than half of the year to prepare for and I JUST. CANT. WAIT. TO BE BACK!

Aside from that, my partner and I are on the hunt to buy a house, which means we will have a bigger space to create more elaborate works of art. I’m applying to some grants, trying to travel to paint murals and I’m going to start a new series of work done completely on the sewing machine. Everything is pretty top secret currently, but follow me on Instagram @clowntearz to keep up with what I have planned for 2019!

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #HOV DET #House of Vans Detroit Pop Up #Shaina Kasztelan #mural #painting #workshop #installation

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cherry-valentine · 5 years

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Winter 2019 Anime Season, What I’m Watching:

My Roommate is a Cat is easily the cutest series this season, possibly the cutest in the past several seasons. Your mileage may vary, depending on how much you like cats, but for me the show is a delight. Following a reclusive young author who recently lost his parents (the only people he interacted with on a regular basis) as he bonds with a stray cat he decided to take in on a whim, the show cleverly splits its time between the viewpoints of the human protagonist and the cat. The smartest thing the series does is show both viewpoints of the same events, first from the human, Subaru, and then from the cat, Haru. And somehow, even though we’re viewing the events for the second time, Haru’s view is more compelling. The show is by turns genuinely funny and genuinely touching. Subaru reminds me of a less extreme version of Handa (from Handa-kun and Barakamon) in that he’s socially inept and usually assumes the worst intentions from those around him. Haru is a somewhat feisty young cat who thinks she’s protecting her strange, hopeless human. Haru is a bit rough around the edges after spending much of her life as a stray, and her tough attitude keeps the show from getting too saccharine. As it stands, the show is just the right amount of cute, sweet, awkward, sad, and funny. Very high on my watch list.

Meiji Tokyo Renka is yet another historical otome series (seriously why do so many otome anime have historical settings?) featuring a high school girl being sent back in time to the Meiji period. This is, of course, one of my favorite time periods just for the clothing alone. The character designs are varied enough to make all the guys stand out from each other and the colors and backgrounds are lovely. The heroine, Mei, is much more comical than the standard otome heroine and is refreshingly proactive in her own story. She’s surprisingly independent in a time period when that was probably frowned upon. There’s a strong supernatural element to the story, not even counting the time travel aspect. There are spirits in this series that only certain people can see, Mei being one of them (and it’s nice that there are several others in the main cast who can as well, preventing her from seeming too conveniently special). It seems like these spirits can come in many forms, from cute animal spirits to literal ghosts to characters in novels springing to life and escaping the books to run amok. The show is certainly not dull. The romance is almost shoved to the background to make room for spirit shenanigans, but I’m not complaining. One of the more fun otome series in recent memory.

The Promised Neverland is easily my pick for best show of the season. It has a fantastic setup, with a first episode twist that I did not see coming (I knew something was going on, but my guess was way off the mark). It has a unique art style that makes it stand out, fluid animation, awesome opening and ending themes, a kickass heroine, and some heart-stopping cliff hangers. It’s the show I look forward to most each week. There’s only one minor quibble I have with this series, and that’s the weird way faces are drawn. The mouths seem too high on the faces, to the point that I kept thinking their mouths were their noses. I’ve gotten used to it as the episodes rolled by, but every now and then I still notice it. It’s just... irritating. Still, that’s a super nitpicky complaint for a show that’s otherwise excellent on every level with consistently high quality art and writing. At the very tippy top of my watch list.

Boogiepop and Others is a sequel (I guess?) to a much older series called Boogiepop Phantom that I watched many years ago. To be honest, it’s been so long that I don’t remember most of the details about the original anime. I just remember that it was a somewhat gloomy show that focused on supernatural mysteries and was episodic in nature. This newer series has an updated art style with more modern character designs. It’s also easier to follow, and has a stronger focus on action, whereas the original focused more on atmosphere. Special mention should go to Aoi Yuki’s phenomenal voice acting. She really brings Boogiepop to life and carries the show, much like she did as Kino in the recent Kino’s Journey anime. The show has great music, with my favorite ending theme of the season. Has a secure spot on my watch list.

B Project Season 2, an otome series about cute male idol groups, has seemingly decided to dial back the focus on the whole otome thing and instead showcase the borderline BL relationships between the boys. Seriously, there are several episodes in which the heroine, Tsubasa, is barely there at all, and even when she is, the series gives no real indication that any of the boys like her as more than a friend. Instead, the boys seem to be in love with each other (which is fine by me). This season adds a new boy band to the three we already had, which I felt was a little unnecessary. The new group really doesn’t add anything to the story. The music is nice, especially the ending theme, and the character designs are attractive. The series seems to have taken a page out of Tsukiuta’s book and now uses CG for the more elaborate dance numbers. The problem is that they don’t look nearly as good as Tsukiuta’s and definitely don’t blend well with the 2D animation around them. Overall, the series is cute but I still think of it as “less fun UtaPri”.

Fukigen no Mononokean Season 2 was a bit of a surprise for me, since I didn’t realize it was being made. I enjoyed season one very much with its pastel, candy-colored art and sweet, mostly light-hearted stories. And of course, the main draw of the series was the budding friendship between our two leads, Abeno and Ashiya. Season two keeps all of those elements and adds a very interesting mystery concerning Ashiya’s father, as well as an overarching plot and an actual recurring “villain” type character. The stakes are raised considerably, but the overall tone of the show is still fairly light and gentle. Seeing the cute mascot character Fuzzy (a white, furry youkai) makes me a little sad though, since it reminded me so very much of my cat (also a white furry creature named Fuzzy) while watching season one, and Fuzzy has since disappeared. Which reminds me, the youkai in this series are so adorable, varied, and charming. Very high on my watch list.

Kaguya-sama: Love is War is a comedy about two overachieving high school students who are secretly in love with each other but are too prideful to admit it, so they set traps for each other to try to force the other to confess first. It sounds like a dumb setup, to be honest, but it actually works surprisingly well. The two leads are likable despite being petty and stubborn. Even though they’re extremely talented, they have tons of quirks and they’re both completely clueless when it comes to love. There are a few fun side characters as well. The show is hilarious, with three skits per episode. There’s also a touch of sweetness as their affection for each other comes across as genuine. Anyone who’s ever been in love can relate to some of these moments, of going to great lengths just to increase your chances of being near the person you like, or making little changes to your appearance just to see if you get a reaction from them. Or, of course, the disappointment you feel when your carefully laid plans get ruined. The series uses humor and extreme reactions and hilarious facial expressions to convey these feelings, resulting in a highly entertaining show.

Carry Over Shows From Previous Seasons: Black Clover Run With the Wind Hinomaru Sumo Best of Season: Best New Show: The Promised Neverland Best Opening Theme: The Promised Neverland Best Ending Theme: Boogiepop and Others Best Male Character: Subaru (My Roommate is a Cat) Best Female Character: Emma (The Promised Neverland)

#Anime #Seasonal Anime #Anime Reviews #Anime Recommendations #Winter 2019 Anime #Text

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lytefoot · 6 years

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CoS Chapter 16 - The Chamber of Secrets

Yes! Two chapters in one day!

And we open with Harry having completely forgotten that this is a school and he is a student.

So, the scene with Ginny at breakfast... I’m pretty sure that Ginny is the only person whose emotional state Harry is ever this attuned to. When Ron’s upset or Hermione’s angry, we get a one-word description, or just a Ron was being weird, so anyway-- throw-away. But here we get Harry actively trying to read Ginny’s state of mind and draw her out.

Now, this isn’t a boy-girl thing here, it isn’t aww, young love the way it is when Ron draws strength from looking at Hermione’s empty desk. Harry’s interest is very mission-driven: he thinks she knows something about the Chamber. But it is a first moment of connection between them... because while Ginny is the first person whose emotional state Harry really tunes in to, Harry is the first person in this entire book who’s treated Ginny’s state of mind as actually important.

Also, Percy: are you intentionally trying to cover for having a girlfriend by making us think Ginny caught you... er... polishing your wand? Because that’s what everybody thinks now.

Hey, another reason to hire Lockhart sighted! Lockhart is a manipulation target with training wheels and color-coded instructions. What a great teaching tool to annoy your hand-picked successor with!

Every defense teacher teaches Harry something, even if it isn’t defense. Lockhart teaches him how to manipulate idiots.

... would have been such a good Slytherin, Harry James... go see Hermione... wow.

Ron proposes going to an adult with their information! Good job, Ron! I mean, that plan is pretty much doomed to failure, but at least he’s trying to be responsible.

Harry, meanwhile... “No, if we try to share information with the adults they’ll probably just brush us off again. Let’s hide in the wardrobe and spy on them first.” And, I mean, it’s not like he’s wrong.

Oh,

OH!

Send Lockhart to handle it wasn’t at all the teachers’ plan for saving Ginny. It was just their plan for getting Lockhart out of the way. Nobody thought he was going to be able to do it.

Did they have another plan for saving Ginny? Dunno. Maybe not--and protecting the rest of the students was definitely their priority, given that they didn’t even know whether Ginny was still alive. Ron and Harry are ready to assume that they’re trusting Lockhart, because Ron and Harry don’t yet fully realize that Lockhart is a total fraud, but that doesn’t mean they’re correct.

Okay, but... now that he’s given his villain monologue... why are you guys taking Lockhart with you? Come on, chuck Lockhart out the window and keep the wand. Way more useful.

Definitely Lockhart is baby’s first manipulation target. I mean, don’t get me wrong, angry Harry is pretty scary, but he’s still quite a small 12-year-old at this point. Put on your big boy robes, Lockhart.

I seriously kinda adore Myrtle. She’s so happy that someone’s interested in hearing about her.

Okay, listen, the Chamber of Secrets tells us so much about Slytherin (Salazar, that is). I mean, this sweet-a** unfolding sink thing? Awesome! But also, this whole Chamber/Basilisk/slide/statue thing? Salazar Slytherin is at least twice as extra as Voldemort, a man who had too much need for drama to successfully murder an infant and spent an entire year setting up an elaborate graveyard-based death trap.

Ah... at least 30% improvement in Lockhart.

I’m sorry, the Chamber of Secrets is just the coolest thing. I would totally put one of these in my magic castle. Maybe minus the murderous snake. My snake would be cute and friendly.

#harry potter #chamber of secrets #harrypottersummer #hogwartsreread

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flightofaqrow · 3 years

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‘getting to know you’ game

qrow x Lifa Hakon [incomplete]

Lifa looked around the room, before she inched over to her bunk and grabbed her rucksack from under it. “We could go, if you’re willing to hike for a bit and be ready for a scrap if there’s Grimm or wolves. Or bears. Or really, really angry owls. It’s worth the trip and it’s the perfect time of day to start the journey! It’ll be dark by the time we get to the lake and that’s the best time to be there.”

“i asked for adventure, didn’t i?” qrow opens his arms wide and excited. this could all go terribly, terribly wrong for him at any time, and probably will. it always does. but for once, he thinks just maybe it might be fun enough to be worth it.

just for one damn night let him not ruin it.

...

“Do you know this game? The goal is to trap the fox where it can’t escape or eat one of the birds. If there’s no space behind a bird, it can’t be eaten but if there is, the fox can jump over and gobble it up. I’ll play the fox?”

“…so better for the birds to work in pairs.” a universal truth in qrow’s life, “s’this mean i get t’call ya a fox now, since you said it first?”

“You can, but I’ll be calling you Scare-Qrow if you do.”

Lifa takes a sign of bad luck and changes it to something a bit silly, that hangs out in an open field, and is meant to protect… “kinda like that one actually.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“this is your dorm and i just came in and ruined everything, didn’t i?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Lifa stared at the scattered papers and folders that she had organized in a filing system all her own, now in chaos on the floor after a lanky fellow student burst inside and collided with her just as she was going to leave. Her fingers twitched in despair and irritation, before she slowly took a deep breath, turned to face Qrow and grabbed a fistful of his vest. Not violently, not too hard. Just enough to firmly get his attention. “I’ll hide you from whatever it is but you are helping me clean this up. Understood?”

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qrow ruins everything. he does. of course it’s just his luck he picks the room of the pretty girl from the roof to try and duck into.

and that there would be some sort of elaborate shelving unit that definitely didn’t seem standard. and that his awesome cape would get caught on the stupid doorknob, and send his gangly limbs flying into said shelves. and she’d be standing right there.

is it really so bad when he already gets to see her, faces nearly touching, yanking at his clothing…? ah, well. yeah. it is. when all her hard work is in chaos on the floor and he still looks a damn fool.

he faces away, ready for a scolding, ready to be passed off to Raven and the teacher she alerted. but none of it comes. seriously?

qrow nods in agreement. he’d be shuffling some papers together already if he weren’t, uh, otherwise restrained. “man, i knew you were cool.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Damned right I’m cool!”

Lifa has lifted him ever so slightly off of his toes before she let him go, realizing she might be a little overzealous. Despite the circumstances, she was glad to see the nice boy from the roof again, even if he was going to see her messy desk…Oh, shit. Family pictures.

Lifa quickly gathered up some papers and threw them onto the desk, taking the moment to snap the frame face down before he got a glimpse of her and her father in full regalia, posing for her fifteenth birthday. All around it were tiny tools, clockwork parts, scraps of metal…

The papers were blueprints, for weapon and armor designs but also a few charcoal sketches of woodland scenes, marked with lines of simplistic colored pencil to represent the presence of evergreen needles and a broad frozen like and a crumbling cabin. Lifa turned to face the mess once more, tightening her jaw. “Ugh, they’re all out of order…what did you do that’s got you on the run, anyway? Hide a toad in someone’s boot?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow knows she’s hiding something. they’ve all done that frantic scatter at some point when suddenly intrude upon. however, he thinks little of it, lumping similar ultimately unimportant reasons in with those same memories. not that he isn’t curious, of course. but he’s not one to press when she’s already doing him a kindness.

not to mention, what he can see is fascinating enough in itself. landscapes… weapon and gadget ideas… not bad ones, either. the roughness of her hands make more sense if she’s a tinkerer on top of a fighter. really cool.

“heh. somethin’ like that. switched my sister’s tea with some of the weird grasses outside. but forget that. …is all this stuff for real?” he holds up some of the drawings he’s gathered, and points to one of the frozen forests in particular, “i mean, can we go here? is this what ya were talkin’ about last time?”

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“I’m going to wager a guess that you are the younger brother,” Lifa mused, since that sounded like something Runi would absolutely do, with perhaps a more devious twist. As she laid things out to survey and put them back in their place, she smiled softly. It took the edge off the need to laugh.

She glanced back at him, in the middle of lining two see through papers together so one layer of armor completed the other. A method that helped her better plan how to complete the final result. “You mean the lake?” She asked, rubbing the soft paper between her fingers and enjoying the pleasant smell of it and fresh ink. “I mean, yes. The lake is real but the plans are all theoretical, or at least all except the shield. I made that for the Vytal fight…it’s north east of the city, if you really want to go but it’s not exactly a stroll in the park to get there.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“by two minutes that she constantly holds over my head,” he says with equal amounts annoyance and affection. he crawls around on the floor, looking for anything that my have snuck beneath furniture while she starts arranging things back in proper order. it takes a second a second for it to click, but he got there. “…you got one too, then?”

stragglers collected, he stands next to her and looks over her work. it’s all very clever. he can see the thought process and enhancements. “okay, Lifa, you got me. i’m impressed.” he crosses arms over his chest and grins, as if he had any authority to be appraising. “most of the students stop after building their own weapon. this is certainly next level.” meaning, it looked like she enjoyed further improving her own equipment, and designing even beyond that. for other people too perhaps?

he shrugs, drums his fingers on his arms, “s’too bad about the lake, then. anythin’ interesting within reach? i do need to avoid Raven for awhile…”

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“A brother? Yes,” Lifa ran her fingers along one frame that she pushed over and lifted it upright again, since it had nothing incriminating to reveal. She missed the northern lights and smells of her home, but couldn’t not miss anything more than her family and her scruffy haired know-it-all little brother.A boy not more than ten, with lots of tawny brown messy hair seated in a wheel chair and seeming like he was about to lob the wrench in his hand at her. “His name is Runi. He’s ten.” Impressed? Suspicion lurked in her eyes but she had to remember he didn’t know who she was. Any respect he had, she had earned it by her own merit. She moved a lock of hair behind her ear, since most of the red locks were piled in a hastily woven bun at the back of her head out of her eyes so she could work. “Thank you, that’s– that means a lot…My brother and I’ve always made these sorts of things together. He’s the brain, I’m the hands.” Lifa looked around the room, before she inched over to her bunk and grabbed her rucksack from under it. “Don’t be disappointed, we could go, if you’re willing to hike for a bit and be ready for a scrap if there’s Grimm or wolves. Or bears. Or really, really angry owls. It’s worth the trip and it’s the perfect time of day to start the journey! It’ll be dark by the time we get to the lake and that’s the best time to be there.”

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one tidbit more of personal information reveals itself, then. her brother has wings of beautiful feathers, even if his body doesn’t seem like it can make very good use of them. that makes Lifa half faunus. which changes absolutely nothing of qrow’s opinion, but is interesting to know.

“heh, that makes sense. i remember your hands,” qrow winks, waits just a beat. “Runi looks just s’cool as you,” now he’s intentionally laying it on thick, but the undertone of appreciation for family weaves into the flattery anyway. he’d die for Raven, kill for Raven, almost and has, respectively, and he trusts the same from her. they acquired their weapons separately, but have gone through many a process side by side. he can’t imagine ever not having her there. he opens his mouth to ask if it’s hard for her to be here without him, but stops, and only nods in acknowledgement. maybe that’s too personal. maybe he’s wrong when she’s moved on from the subject so quickly. maybe he shouldn’t make her think of that kind of thing and ruin the mood for basically attempting to ask her on a date.

…or she could make the offer and already be grabbing her things. honestly, she’s adorable. “i asked for adventure, didn’t i?” he opens his arms wide and excited, “gimme a tick to grab Harbinger and let my team lead know i’ll be out again. i’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

this could all go terribly, terribly wrong for him at any time, and probably will. it always does. but for once, he thinks just maybe it might be fun enough to be worth it.

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“My hands?” She blinked and looked down at them, noticing the scars around knuckles that nicked edges and hot surfaces when she was too in the moment to be careful and didn’t notice her injury until much later. By the time she looked back up at him, some of her freckles had faded under a new blush. Is he…? No. No way. But at the mention of adventure, she smiled the tiniest bit and began pulling her blanket off the bed, rolling the handmade quilt up tight and shoving it into her pack along with a few snacks she pulled from her desk drawer. “Harbinger? That’s very fitting, for a boy named for the crow. I’ll get Forsvarer and Utholdnet. See you there!” By the time she got to the courtyard, she had redone her hair in a more casual style, braided around the top in a pretty manner but tied off loosely at the bottom so it trailed down her back. Snow was slowly falling and Lifa was just making sure her oil lantern was secure to her pack side, her eyes darting around for Qrow’s presence.

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he sneaks in the shadows, in all the darkness of his namesake and skills, just for fun. he sees Lifa, notices the charm in literally letting her hair down, and also suddenly feels severely under-packed with only Harbinger and a blanket roll strapped to his back for the occasion, but he’s always traveled light. qrow is used to finding what he needs where he goes, or simply going without. …or losing things, or having them be more trouble than they’re worth… he doesn’t give himself time to dwell, pursues further in his game of how close he can get before she senses him, eventually stepping into the light slightly to the side and behind her.

“ready to go?”

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Lifa turns towards him and with her lopsided grin, she pulls her deer skin hood up, lined with white fur, and nods. “Ready and eager.” And seeming none too surprised at his sudden presence. Things lurking in the shadows? Child’s play for her. Lifa leads him through busy city streets, knowing the way to her destination easily as she had been there frequently enough to have it memorized. It was quite a trek through civilization alone, so she passed the time on their way to the border with the only chatter she could think of. “So what sort of weapon is Harbinger? A sword? You seem like a swordsman.” Weapons. The first subject that came to mind. “One handed, if I had to guess.”

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well, he tried. good practice, anyway. at least she doesn’t rub the lack of surprise terribly in his face. admittedly, he’d be disappointed if other students were as easy targets as any old passerby.

and he has one more piece of information about her skills for the tournament. qrow plans to hold onto his secrets as long as he can. this is almost immediately tested, even in the middle of qrow’s wide red eyes trying to take in the city of atlas. everything is steely and it feels like rain-washed glare even on a sunny day. it’s not the most comfortable or familiar of environments, sterile, almost, but it has its own beauty.

he lets his head lull to the side, smirking, lifting an accusatory brow, “Sunshine, you’re really just gonna straight up ask a guy how he handles his sword?” a crude twist of implication, but he’s a teenage boy with adventuring and a pretty redhead on his mind. he turns to start walking sideways, and flips up his cape to reveal the longsword in its entirety. he lets that answer for itself, and even though the small rig of gears could easily suggest to someone with Lifa’s engineering skills that there’s more going on, he says nothing else further. they can geek out after the fights. “…mostly one-handed. buuuut there’s also a lotta things i like using two for.”

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Was the architecture impressive? Yes. Did Lifa like it? No. It lacked something personal and homey for her, no personal connection or familiarity for her to appreciate other than the engineering perspective. When they finally passed the city into the snowy fields, she breathed a deep breath of relief and took it all in, the open horizon caressing something in her soul and reminding it that it was alright. “Well– yes. How else would I learn about your method of combat?” Lifa looked at him quizzically, even tilted her head to the side in a manner so innocent that it was hard to tell if she was messing with him or really didn’t get it.

At his show of weaponry, Lifa her flexed arm in the sleeve of plate that covered from the shoulder to the fingers in a gauntlet and all at once, it showered down to knit into plate sections and spiraled out around the back of her hand to form a heavy circle shield, meaning the sleeve couldn’t be light either. “Interesting you forgo a shield. I was always taught if you have to choose between a blade or shield, take the shield. Did you fight before the academy?”

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a grin returns all the wider when he looks to Lifa again. qrow has seen and done enough playing dumb to know pure innocence at face value. faking it lacked the curiosity clearly on display. oh boy, what is he getting into. trying to get into.

… calm down, qrow. when leading flirtations fall flat anyway, it’s time to simply join the conversation. he lets his cape fall to drape along his back once more, but keeps his hands at the back of his head and laces fingers together, elbows happily raised while he walks and thinks.

“well, mosta the time i find that nothin’ ‘learns’ ya better’n actually trading a few blows instead’a talkin’ about it. but your team made it t’the next round too, right? so we got more of that comin’ up.”

he watches the deployment of her equipment, more impressed by how smoothly it executed in both inner workings and user experience than by the piece itself. his gaze follows along up her arm for eye contact once more, offering a serious expression, “been fightin’ all my life in one way or another. …an’ i was taught if you need a shield, ya ain’t fast or clever enough.”

well, and Harbinger is wide enough to block shots as well as any shield if positioned right, but again, she can find that out for herself. “… so the people who taught ya were more the defensive type, huh?”

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“Indeed. We fight well together, but that’s about all we do together.” Was that bitterness in her voice? Maybe. Scorned by those she was chosen to lead for all her time spent away from home, for the first time in her young life, was something that she couldn’t help but stew over. Lifa lifted her shield slightly to look over the runes she had painstakingly engraved around its rim and took comfort in its familiar presence, like an old mentor showing her the way. “That may be true, but words still have their merit…The shield is a symbolic choice. Almost all of our warriors use them.” The crunch of snow was the only noise for a moment, as Lifa absently rubbed the shoulder of her shield arm, recalling one of many scars she wasn’t quick enough to avoid.

“Ever since I can remember, Grimm clawed at our gates. I didn’t want to hide behind the barricade and hope someone else kept my family safe. I wanted to be one of the shields protecting them. Hence…” and she lifted it with a tired smile, feeling her point was made, as she gestured her fingers around the runes and translated them. “ ‘Fight because you love what is behind you, not for the hatred of the enemy before you.’ If you’re using a shield to hide, you’re dead or worse; useless. But fret not, I also have an ax to take the limbs off any Beowulf too bold for its own good.”

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finally, all the scenery hits qrow. trees stand taller than he’s ever seen sprawling in more packed patterns. the air freshens, the sounds quiet, save for their footsteps and Lifa telling her story. he realizes quickly that his boots are not made for this kind of snow, but at least he has steady feet, most of the time. Lifa acts confident in the direction they are headed, and he’s glad.

lips scrunch into a pout at her obvious resentment, but he doesn’t push it. they differ there, too. everything the tribe did, they did together. even when physically separated, each group was a cog in the wheel of the same goal. survival. and survival when they had no gates.

she has his full attention when she starts talking about being a protector. “that’s… all very noble.”

he’s staring at her, nearly in wonder, while lost in his own head at the same time. another difference. he and Raven came not with hatred nor love in their hearts. simply to learn to kill. because that was their place. their job. maybe it could fall into the category of loving the ‘family’ that would be behind him, but. did he? did he really love any of them besides Raven, who would always be by side? he shakes his head, covers the gesture with a chuckle at her last comment.

“i bet you would. much as i’d like to, i hope i don’t have t’see that today. …so where is all the ‘we’ and ‘our’, anyway? besides ‘not atlas city’, i mean. sounds like the kinda place that’d have a name.”

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“I’m grateful you think so,” Lifa turned her face towards his and smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with it. He was a good listener or perhaps he was just waiting for her to stop talking…No, she believed the first thought. He had that sharpness to his gaze that said he didn’t give his attention to anything he didn’t want to and that was something she quite liked about him already. Lifa walked strangely in the snow. Toe heel, toe heel, toe heel. Piercing the icy surface carefully with the point of her boot so her foot slid into the powder almost silently. But as she noticed the way her was looking at her, with all that garnet intensity, Lifa for once felt compelled to turn her own gaze away and that was not something she did lightly. With her free hand, she reached above to run her fingers along the lush green needles above. “Of course it has a name, it’s just not one people in Atlas respect much. As for if we’ll meet any Grimm…Hush for a few minutes and I’ll be able to tell you.” Was she purposely dodging the question? Perhaps. As they ventured deeper into the wood, she slowed down and turned her face up to the treetops before lifting her hands to her mouth and emitting a high, pure series of sung notes. It echoed high into the air and Lifa gestured for him to wait. Distantly, there was the flutter of wings and chatter of birds in response. Some even emerged from the branches to investigate them with curious dark eyes and Lifa smiled and pointed to them, “See? No Grimm close by.”

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when she stops holding the connection of their smiles, he does too. he’s nothing if not observant, watching her feet instead. an attempt at walking the same way shifts balance, and he has to continue looking down. the snow gets thicker and thicker as told by how much the rocks and underbrush becomes buried. she wasn’t kidding about it being a hike.

if not observant, then call him too curious for his own good. he looks back at her with a quizzical lift to his features. had Lifa just answered the question, qrow could have been satisfied. skirting around it made it a far, far more interesting topic. he’ll drop it, but now he’d have to dig and find out not only what the name is, but why she wouldn’t want to say. surely someone around the school would know.

speaking of dropping, somewhere between the new footwork, the shifted attention, trying to bring up an argument about being hushed when he was already quiet, and likely his damn curse, his carefully stepping feet slip right out from under him when she holds her hand out for a halt; he falls right to his ass with a grunt.

which, maybe, is a good thing, because he’s rather glad to already be floored while trying to process the sound she makes. Somewhere between singing and an animal call, a captivating, otherworldly sound that’s of such a pitch it almost hurts his ears, and then echoes back softly from every surface for what seems like miles. the animals nearby even respond.

his jaw hangs open, and his eyes fill with disbelief, and his hands hold himself upright in the snow, clutching as if he might just fall through the ground because everything suddenly became a crazy dream. he had no idea humans were even capable of making such beautiful noises with nothing but their raw voice.

and then she turns to him like what she’d just done was part and parcel of any other day. the grimm are currently the least of his worries. she keeps getting more beautiful and magical by the minute, and he might just be getting in over his head, but for better or worse that’s never really stopped him. but he really does hope she’s going to offer some sort of explanation for all that.

seriously, who is this girl and where did she come from?

“………”

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“Qrow!” Lifa exclaimed when she found him up to his waist in snow, like a fawn that had misjudged its next few steps and was waiting for its better-knowing mother to come dig him out. She didn’t mean to laugh at his expense, truly, but his looked so dumbfounded by the circumstances, wide eyed and mouth agape, she had to let a tiny giggle win. “Comfortable down there?” She reached down and grabbed him by the back of his jacket with a firm grip. One good pull and she lifted him straight out of the snow, his feet cleared the ground and she gave him a slight shake to dust him off (or perhaps to be comical) before she set him back down on his feet. She hardly grunted with the effort. “Joke as I may, you should really step carefully. It would dampen the mood if you break an ankle and I have to piggy-back you all the way home.” Lifa didn’t give him much time to recover but she was certain he could shake off the astonishment and fall into step. She smirked to herself as she continued forward, taking smug satisfaction before she brought her hand up to her mouth again and without warning, belted out that call once more, reverberating from her throat with a rich vibrato. It was like the forest swallowed it up and breathed it bigger into what should be possible for a small girl to make. She didn’t stop walking or even look at him, as she gestured vaguely in the air with one hand and tapped a branch so snow showered down on them both. “It’s called kulning, if you’re wondering.” On their horizon, the sky was growing a dark indigo color and the first pinpricks of starlight were making themselves known and with the glare of sunset, Lifa could see far ahead the blinding line of white as it reflected on a large body of ice.

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no. no qrow is not comfortable stuffed into the snow, but at least the chill along his back matches the chill down the inside of his spine that her voice had just given him. she’s laughing, and that’s better than the alternative.

he pouts when she plucks him from the snow. she’s strong - he knew that from the way she tugged on him the other day. and earlier today. she really did like the lifting and the tugging, huh? but even though she’s strong, his legs and arms pull in like he’s some kitten lifted by the scruff, as if consolidating his mass might make it easier to hold.

it really couldn’t get more embarrassing.

and he really shouldn’t have thought that, because then it did. she’s not laughing anymore.

“yeah, i know,” he says in a harsh mutter. he knows it would dampen the mood. it always does. he always does. he’s been afraid this whole time, trying to convince himself it would be okay, but now she fully admits it. and it all has nothing to do with his steps.

he almost feels better, letting him self sink into that singing sound again, to let it carry him away maybe to come back more spirited, but then face and shoulders scrunch as more snow invades his space and melts into his clothes. rude. he loves snow on a landscape, but finds it’s not as pleasant all caught in the entirety of his clothes now, and slowly seeping into his person.

“kulning,” he repeats, making the effort to show he’s still listening, but unable to hide the quickly waning amusement. his head hangs too low to enjoy the sunset.

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He had sombered as quickly as a cloud’s shadow passed over a plain and Lifa wondered if it was her doing. Something she did? Said? Had she made a terrible social misstep again and spoiled everything? Maybe he didn’t like her singing. That had to be it. Why did she ever sing in front of people? Stupid, she thought as she twisted the end of her braid around her fingers and muttered, “Kind of annoying, I know.” more at herself than anything. But she wouldn’t let him see her affected. She urged her steps to have purpose and to carry her steadily forward to their goal again, her back straight and eyes pointed forward attentively. Expression set to be impenetrable, as so well trained it was to be. She was looking for something, anything to change the subject to something he felt comfortable with and then she spotted it. As they neared the frozen lake in sight, Lifa reached to her pack and slid out her hatchet. She hefted it once in the air and when it landed in her palm again, she hurled it off to their right.

The blade sank deep into a fallen tree that was leaned sadly over a snowdrift and some stones. Lifa jogged up and hammed the back of the blade once with her shield edge to drive it deeper, before she levered the handle and the wood splintered loudly to reveal the core. A few more solid whacks and Lifa pried a chunk loose and held it up to him victoriously. “I’m sure you know, but a dead tree’s middle is the best dry wood you can find in snow and rain. Help me harvest it? We’ll need a fire to last. If you don’t want to dull your sword blade, I have a hatchet you can borrow.”

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he is still paying attention. he hears Lifa, and watches her lips move. “the safety lectures? yeah a little, tch.” blunt, but honest. as if to prove a point to himself, her, and the whole world, he pumps out a little kick at the next snow drift they pass, even shaking the scooped up chunks free from his boot, all while keeping his footing just fine. tonight, it’s Raven he hears in his head, calling him a moody broody little brother.

that cloud lingers and settles over them both. Lifa trains her gaze forward and with a purpose, so qrow hangs back by a few steps in silent follow, taking and offering some space. although, voicing his complaint, and letting loose his mini tantrum, he does feel a little better. he distracts himself the rest of the way studying those soft reddish braids again. the weave looks familiar, but the patterns are new. he could figure it out. probably. now he can’t get rid of the urge to play with her hair.

he’s supposed to be sight seeing but between his own misery and her, he can’t seem to stay focused on more than immediate surroundings. they stop moving again, and this time he’s prepared for… anything. the wield and throw of a hatchet only makes his shoulders square for a second, because he assumes there’s some sort of enemy target.

and when he figures out it’s only a log, he’s unsure if she’s just having fun or showing off. quickly getting to work and requesting he do the same doesn’t really clarify. well, at least chopping away at some stuff would blow off the rest of all his internalized steam. “yeah, okay.” hands remove from pockets, “i’ll take the hatchet. best to use the tool intended for the job, right?”

for now, he takes the first log and sets to the side to start a pile. finally, he finds a smile once more, “got any work songs to sing t’go with that forest call? i can pay it back once we get the fire goin’.” is that how it went for her too? trading entertainment for entertainment and hospitality. but qrow always had an easier time of it along with the rhythm of flames.

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“No, I meant my…” Lifa swiveled around sharply to stare at him, surprised he had missed her meaning and her hair swung over her shoulder as she did. But she saw the expression on his face and left it alone. Maybe it’s just wounded male pride after all. Thirty second cycle and he’ll be over it. She took the twin and tossed it gently in his direction, trusting he could catch it by the handle but she didn’t look to see if he did. If he didn’t, it would fall short just in front of his toes into the snow. Lifa set to work prying more wood free, intending to go in silence and just hope once she showed him the lake, she could make things better but then he asked. Lifa rested her fingers against the engravings of the blade, remembering the time she carved them with her own hand and the tune she hummed with the grind of metal. “Only if you pay it back,” she relented. So she chopped, stacked and wrapped the bundle in time to a gentle but comforting melody. “I know a place we can go, No one has been there and no one will know, There it is quiet, forget all the violence We’ve tried so hard to endure…” Lifa took a cord from the outside pocket of her bag and fastened her dense firewood bundle to it before she swung it onto her back and passed him a second one to wrap his own, finding a small smile again as she blinked snowflakes from her eyelashes. “So come with me dear, The bright city hum hurts my ears. Sigh with the trees We could be free. Oh, I know a place we could go.” With the last note on her tongue, she turned and began to walk. Over snow. And then onto the ice. “I’m tired of fear. Grasping for safe, familiar. You are like me, oh, could we leave?”

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qrow catches it easily. not that she’d have any reason whatsoever to trust his reflexes at this point. and she didn’t even watch when it worked. oh well. he already knows he’s missed some things, because he always manages to in his sour moods. he spins the hatchet in his hand, feeling the weight and balance of it, appreciating the design and craftsmanship. it is clearly a weapon, but he’s allowed to use it as a tool. to him, that is quite the sign of trust.

he takes comfort in knowing this has still been an adventure and it isn’t over. and that there will soon be a fire. a warm, dry fire. (he tries to ignore all the ways he could further screw it up.)

what she sings is not a burly, rhythmic work song as he thought, with a pounding beat to chop to, but instead something as lovely as the kulning, but softer. soothing. and he doesn’t wonder if the lyrics are intentionally chosen. between the song given, and Lifa’s own patterns, he finds a timing to work alongside, but almost feels guilty to interrupt with hatchet hacks and wood splitting.

he pretends the pieces are grimm. fears. doubts. he keeps controlled, skilled, and absolutely decimates them in perfect little chunks. he can even smile back when he proudly carries his own stack and accepts the cord.

but when he tries to tie everything up, one hunk wriggles out and drops into snow. he sighs and slumps his head once more, but she’s still singing, and somehow even though she’s turned away and walking forward he can picture her turning her head and singing that last bit right at him, and now he knows it’s intentional, and he’s not going to ruin it. she is like him. and qrow likes her.

just for one damn night let him not ruin it.

he swallows hard as she steps out onto a slippery surface. but she is so sweet to spend time with him, sing for him, put up with him at all. he will try not to be afraid for her. he follows. he lifts his head and ignores the ice and finally takes in more than immediate surroundings. everything looks just like the picture, more or less. it has a solemn magnificence in the dusk, but he bet it’s looks absolutely breathtaking when the sunlight hits just right.

he looks gazes through a few more trees, “hey, that’s the cabin up ahead, huh?”

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Night had come. There was the last faded violet tones at the bottom of the sky between tree trunks and shadows, and then the day was finally asleep and the stars were making themselves known. Lifa walked with even, short steps on the slick ice, covered here and there with thin patches of snow blown across the surface by the wind. Luckily, the thick treeline kept the worst of it at bay. Lifa followed his eyes, as she steadily headed towards the middle of the ice and now that it was truly dark, she took a small lantern from her pack’s side and sparked it aflame to give them a small circle of amber light to travel by. “Sure is. It was just two and a half walls when I started at the academy. I cut some new logs and packed in some sod to make it a little homier…Sometimes I just come out here and stay the night. Then I climb back through my dorm window before daylight. Y’know, normal girl stuff.” She flashed him another crooked smile, strained and self deprecating. The lake didn’t take all that long to cross, but by the time they did, it was pitch black except for tiny pricks of stars and Lifa’s lantern. The night of a new moon gave very little light to be refracted by the ice crystals. She wants to get him to the cabin quickly, to a warm hearth and show him all the things she had brought to try to create a lovely night, to show him the otherworldly beauty she adored about her homeland. She wanted to have someone see why she was doing all of this. It was for no gesture of power or attempt to be noticed, no whimsical notion of a naive princess acted upon because no one could tell her no. Was it so hard to see she loved this world? And that was something to fight for? That was where her royalty, if such a thing could be defined, derived from? Not entitlement, but being honored with the chance to help that which she governed. No naïve princess am I, but you don’t even know that. Lifa took a chain from under her coat collar, produced a key and stopped at the cabin door to unlock it and let him inside. Every wall was covered in intricate wooden carvings, although there were empty patches or patterns still in the process of being finished. There was a bed of animal furs, some equipment to fish, hunt or cook, but otherwise it was quite simplistic. But best of all, there was a functional fireplace and chimney.

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qrow more or less scuffles across the ice, but it works. forever used to slipping up and catching himself up, he is. if he tries not to think about it too hard or care too much, his feet find themselves more naturally.

“you built it? …scratch that, ya snuck out to build it?” Lifa would only find the beadiest of little red rascal eyes with matching crookedness when she turned to look. (even besides the fact that her freckled face is even prettier in the lantern glow and star-studded snowlight).

“man, i got no idea what normal girl stuff really is, but tha’s what it should be, if ya ask me. i c’n pitch a tent pretty good, but we were never’n one spot long enough for anything like a real cabin.”

freedom. that’s what he’s here for. he doesn’t know any better, and doesn’t want much better either. there’s too much world to stay all cooped up or tied down. he loves the world too. more and more the notion of protecting it for true as a huntsman grows on him. and going home to the tribe seems so - small.

although four walls sounds pretty good right about now, for a bit, to warm up and refresh.

…and apparently be wowed by a whole new landscape that has nothing to do with land. a quick scan of the room takes in all the cozy furnishings. a bed covered in animal furs seems just a little too perfect and has his mind spiraling in far more pleasant directions than all the prior self-derision.

but ultimately all the little carvings on the door frame distract tactile desires and attention. fingers trace dips and ridges and grooves, eyes follow patterns. none of her drawings could have prepared him for this, not even the engineering ones had this much detail. connecting the two, he’s not terribly surprised, but still finds himself repeating with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “damn! you. built. this…? …in not even two years?”

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“Like I said, it was already partially there, probably used to be an ice fisher’s hut but it was abandoned for a bit. I just built over the old foundation, cut new logs and all.” Lifa brushed off the effort as if it wasn’t weeks of work, maybe a little flustered by his evident astonishment. Was it that impressive to him? The girl dropped her pack near the hearth, where a moderate stack of birch wood rested and set to work on getting a fire going. She knelt down close to the stack of tinder and kindling, taking the blade of her hatchet and striking the flint on the metal at a steady pace to shower sparks of it. It took a few tries, while he explored the images of stars, trees, elk and more she had created over her time at the academy. But the three largest were birds of different kinds. An eagle, an owl and a raven. The sparks caught and Lifa ducked her head down to blow gently on the curls of smoke. A flame sprung up and she sat back with a grin of pride, quickly feeding it before it ate through the starter. “Yes, Qrow, I built it.” She confirmed again, but with much more confidence. Maybe it was feeding her ego a bit. Lifa dragged her pack onto her lap and opened it, starting to set the contents on the floor. A tin of food, a bottle of something, a board game, a small cooking pot. “A small cabin is maybe a month of work with fair weather but how about to take off your shoes and get your toes warm again before I get into the logistics of it? And bring the furs over, we can get comfy while we wait.”

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he had no concept of time for such a thing. especially a thing filled with so much art. time passes slowly when he reaches the birds. big, beautiful ones, and regal looking. it seemed even art and atlesian legends favored ravens over crows. they’re still all three beautiful.

he hears the logs stack into place and the sharp burst of metal on flint. he knew how to start a fire, but just as well she handled it. he wouldn’t want to burn this lovely place down after Lifa worked so hard on it. when the flames reach a dull roar and Lifa’s sounding more pleased, he makes his way over.

“i knew you were cool,” he says for the second time that day, with a wink.

sweet stars a warm fire, yes!

his shoes are already kicked off by the time she says so. in short order, followed by socks, and pants and… once she’s set up her supplies, he’s stripped down to burgundy boxers, hung his clothes from the mantle to dry, and laid down on his back, basking like a cat - a lithe, sinewy cat with very taut and toned abs and legs - in the fire’s glow and warmth of the wood beneath him - dry and pulling away moisture from clammy skin.

“oh furs?” a gruff mutter considers it, “…okay, inna minute.”

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“You haven’t even begun to find out, pretty boy.” Lifa was occupied with opening the tin of food for them, full of shortbread cookies, small chopped pieces of some sort of smoked sausage, apple pieces dipped in caramel and a few other odds and ends like candied pecans and dried pieces of fruit. As she set the pot in place over the fire and uncorked the bottle with a pop! Lifa put a little packet of spices in with a golden liquid and left it to slowly warm. She turned back around to ask, “Do you like venis– ancestors above me!” He’s practically naked. How did he get so undressed so quickly? How did she not notice? Why couldn’t she stop staring? Her eyes, round as coins, were just wandering over the planes of his shoulders and collar bones, how the firelight pooled in shadows or ivory glows on his skin, turning him into something of an intricate oil painting. She kind of wondered if– No! You are not wondering anything! You are a sovereign and huntress! All at once, Lifa resurrected her melted brain and stood up, marched across to the bed and grabbed a reindeer skin. Without an ounce of grace, she tossed it over him. “You won’t warm up like that.” she said quickly, completely unaware that all of the freckles on her cheeks were almost invisible under how red they were.

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he’s blissfully letting the cold seep away from his bones, watching Lifa unpack more goodies than he thought could possibly fit in one tin. his mouth waters in a way it hasn’t since the best cook at the bandit camp had her rotation. this took some serious planning, which Lifa must have done all in one afternoon, because he’d only just picked a destination earlier in the day. no wonder she’s a team leader.

for all indecent thoughts which had crossed qrow’s mind on the way here, and indecent hopes still drifting in his head, the fact that baring so much skin could itself cross the lines of decency never even occurred to him. he had found not everyone in the kingdoms had the same openness he grew up with, but that’s why he left the boxers on! but then Lifa stares, and flushes, and he remembers his earlier considerations of how innocent she must be.

and all of a sudden he’s frowning from beneath a fur hide, decidedly colder from its spot in the cold air cabin than the heat coming from the hearth. not to mention the sight of beautiful blooming rosy cheeks having been stolen away and replaced with dead animal. momentarily.

“whaaat?” qrow digs his hands around until he finds an edge, and plunks his head out from beneath the cover, but respects her wishes of keeping the rest in place over his body. not an ounce of shame sits upon his features, but rather, quite a silly grin.

“never seen human skin before, Lifa? not even a communal bath or anythin’ back home?”

maybe people in colder climates weren’t so inclined to be naked to the elements all that often. well, he’s dug himself this deep. he might as well keep going. if he’s going to ruin things, at least he can start doing it fabulously. although, having traveled all the way out here now, she’s kinda stuck with him.

even more of his teeth start to show, “so. …am i still pretty?”

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Lifa groaned loudly and sat down by the fire, burying her face in her hands before dragging them down her cheeks and giving him a scathing look. Not truly hostile, just irritated that he was poking her buttons. “Baths? No. We have public saunas but I don’t participate. It would be improper for me and in fact, most of the time they’re restricted to men and women being separ– why am I even answering this question?” she tossed her hands in the air and set back to setting up the game board. It looked like a checker board, except more in a cross fashion, forming four avenues and there were a great deal many pieces. Smooth stones painted with a white goose on top and one painted with an amber fox. It was getting warmer with her layers on, so Lifa undid the clasps of her fur wrap and laid it aside, relieved with it gone. The fire was steadily heating the cabin’s interior and her sleeved tunic was plenty warm, considering it was such fine wool. Lifa toyed the end of her braid in her fingers with a pouty expression, her brows furrowed and jaw clenched. Her own form of bashfulness. “I am thinking of a word for you right now and it is not pretty. Do you know this game? she demanded the last question and held up the fox piece to show him.

Her entire right side was bathed in the fire light, now that it had begun to consume whole logs and her hair seemed to draw the light in and emanate it on its own, like the glow of a candle. The other side of her was shadowed, as though she were still standing on the ice.

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riling people up always made information slip. improper - for her specifically. qrow definitely tucks that little note away. she answers because he’s genuinely interested on top of being a smart ass, but Lifa seems set on changing the subject, so he lets her. he also knows better than to press too many buttons of someone who just laid out a bunch of delicious looking food.

now that he is dry and the air is warm, and they are both safe as it gets, and he can even relax a little - his stomach lets loose a loud growl beneath fur cover. but he dutifully tries to keep his attention on everything she’s setting out next, rather than the smells from the snacks, or what that word she’s thinking of might be, or the adorable expression he finally earns in reaction to his flirting - glowing in the firelight. teasing him in so many ways, this girl…

“uh…” he sits up, pulling arms loose from his hide blanket, and using them to tuck the rest into something of a tartan sash by sitting on ends or letting them drape over one shoulder. curious eyes glance over the board and pieces, and while he can find elements of many things he’s played in the past, the general combination doesn’t look familiar. a hint of anxiety spikes again.

“can’t say i do. t’be honest, looks like the kinda thing i wouldn’t be allowed near. me and, um, stuff with a lotta little pieces don’t really get along.”

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Lifa popped a piece of apple between her teeth and savored the tart and sweet on her tongue, as she settled down crosslegged and comfortable by the fire. As she chewed, she wiped a bit of melted caramel off her bottom lip and ran her tongue over her thumb, stopping to nibble on her nail in thought while she moved some of Qrow’s gear a little closer to the fire so the toes of his shoes would dry through. “You can’t be worse than me, I’ll flip the board if I get too upset about losing and spend all night angry I have to pick it all up again.” she smirked at him, although she was completely honest. She would do it. “So let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. It’s an easy enough game, Qrow, I brought it from home to try to get my team mates to play it but, uh…anyway. One of us controls the birds, the other is the fox.” She moved a few bird pieces around the fox to demonstrate, “The goal is to trap the fox where it can’t escape or eat one of the birds. If there’s no space behind a bird, it can’t be eaten but if there is, the fox can jump over and gobble it up. If there’s not enough birds left to trap it, fox wins. I just thought it would be a fun way to pass the time while we wait for the show. I’ll play the fox?” Lifa rolled the game piece over her fingers smoothly, back and forth, like a coin or card. The last roll, she bounced it off her thumb and caught it in her palm deftly, waiting for his answer with an expression akin to hopefulness. A hope that he wouldn’t turn her down flat like her team did.

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waiting until someone else started on the food is about all the etiquette qrow could actually pull from what had been crammed in his head so far, so he’s grateful to be surrounded by a picnic of familiar finger foods. he shoves a whole sausage and a few pieces of the dried fruit into his mouth and manages to chew with his mouth closed as Lifa fusses with more tasty smelling things on the fire.

yet again, she helps distract and settle over-stimulated nerves in demonstrating her own brand of messy eating and managing to make burnt sugar spilling over somehow attractive, but maybe his head just runs away with him again. she admits to making a mess of the game, too, and that definitely must have resulted in a losing some pieces in the past. well, as long as none of this is too important to her…

she speaks with the same dismissive disappointment Summer had when trying to convince Raven to spar with her their first few months. team leaders have it hard, huh?

he had come here for adventure, not games, but with his clothes still drying, food to eat, and all that same spark of light in her eyes emphasized by the fire’s glow, he figures there are worse ways to kill time.

“sure. i’ll try a round.” less secrets of strategy need be kept with minor pastimes. he mutters aloud, “…so better for the birds to work in pairs.” a universal truth in his life.

focused red gaze moves from the board to her face, back to grinning and apparently emboldened by warmth and the idea that she seriously has no issue moving along in all these planned intricacies with him in little but a blanket, “so’s this mean i get t’call ya a fox now, since you said it first?”

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“Seems you’ve already caught on to one of the many lessons this game has to teach,” Lifa set her piece down on the board with a sharp clack, leaning forward with her chin in one palm and her brow furrowed in focus. They followed every position on the board, calculating routes of both evasion and attack. Oh yes, it has a great deal of hidden meaning…she didn’t catch on to the one he was insinuating or at least not to it’s true theme.

Lifa rolled her eyes, jumping her game piece over one of his and claiming the devoured bird for her side. “Red hair, red fox. I haven’t heard that one before.” Sarcasm, of course. She had heard all manner of nicknames and jokes about her vibrant locks and that didn’t even cover the silly superstitions her own people insisted it meant. Favored by the gods, born to shed blood, born to die young. Shit like that. But all in all, his veiled flirting was a hit and miss. “You can but I’ll be calling you Scare-Qrow if you do.”

The fire spat and she leaned over to look inside the pot, which was now generating a very enticing, mouth watering aroma. Thank gods, it’s ready. Lifa took the two cups she had pulled from her pack and lifted the hot handle with her gloved hand, pouring the drink into each like molten translucent gold. Hot spiced mead; the real taste of home. The first sip ran like slow, gentle fire down her throat and seemed to set her aglow from inside with its taste, hot honey tickling her mouth delightfully.

Lifa closed her eyes for a moment to savor it and all the memories with it. “You know, it’s traditional for my homelands huntsmen in training to play this game. It teaches team work and sacrifice. I mostly ended up getting the pieces chucked at my head by my brother or smacked with the board by my mentor for being a brat…It’s nice to play it again, though, so— thank you. You’re pretty nice to a girl you’ve known less than a day. Nicer than most people at this Academy.”

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any strategies specific to this game elude him, but he makes his own assessment of the board. he projects his own experiences on top of it, mixed with the training from school. he focuses on moving the front line of birds towards their rear partners while fanning out. pairs, then small groups so pairs could cover for each other, in as many directions as the number of pieces allowed.

“nah, just foxy,” he states plainly without even looking up from the board to impress flirtation or explain what is perhaps cultural connotation, he seeks only to clarify any lack of allusion to color, to diffuse insult. “an’ i’ve been called worse. heh,” now he looks up, amusement rounding and raising his cheeks.

he grew up with his own share of superstitions thrust upon him. but here Lifa takes a sign of bad luck and changes it to something a bit silly that hangs out in an open field and is meant to protect… “kinda like that one actually.”

he hears and smells the pot too, had been wondering what treat she had for him next as he downs a few more of the nibbles laid out. recognition of the scent almost finds him, but the thought that a pot likely held soup distracted from the truth. he takes the cup and it reminds him of the cider, and his mind inches ever so closer to an answer. ultimately, the first sip finally reveals it. a brand new spice mix hits the front and sides of his tongue, while the honey hits the back, and the alcohol burns in a slow, syrup motion down the back of his throat. mead!

sugar crystals melt and prickle along inner linings and he smiles even wider, recalling their conversation on the roof, “you remembered! damn… this puts my two tiny whiskey bottles t’shame. might’s’well be muddy rain water in comparison.” forget even pulling them from his pouch now. something from his own stash is all he could manage without buyer covers here in atlas. no need for lesser when a whole pot of mead between them would be more than enough for a good time.

he listens, sipping often at the cup. it’s way too hot, but equally way too delicious to care. it’s good to know playing games seems to go about the same way for most teachers and siblings. he moves another of his pieces, fingers lingering and rocking it in hesitant thought at her last words.

“yeah, well. thanks f’bringin’ me t’such a cool place.” qrow remembers himself and lets go before it cracks or pushes through the board, or something else stupid. his voice shrinks, “most people don’t ev’n want me around this long. an’… t’be honest i’m still gettin’ usedta nice bein’ a compliment.” he puffs up his chest, willing some manner of pride back through humor - in letting out derisive air through a crooked and scrunched expression, “though i guess i shouldn’t be su’prised t’hear that when y’live with alla these atlas stuffies. …what about your team? y’get along with them alright?”

he kinda figured all the teams worked it out to work together one way or another, but, he looks down at all these birds and one lone fox piece, and he wonders.

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“I thought you might,” His subtle bashfulness and smile drew her eye to his features again magnetically. He had a sharp wit, a cold edge but there was a softness there that made her feel like she was being shown something precious, like this secluded and protected place of her own. She became distracted watching his long fingers move across the board and in a moment, she realized he was rapidly approaching victory. Lifa tried to snap out of it by taking a drink but it didn’t do anything whatsoever to pull her out of the warm ease she’d found. Complacency was eroding at her competitiveness, which was a very new situation for her. Lifa looked up at him in a snap motion, her eyes flashing in the same manner an animal might whip their head around and perk their ears when alerted of something. She washed questions down with another drink and gestured to him with her cup, “Well, I’m not most people. I’ll have you know I’m enjoying my time with you. It’s straight up jovial in this creepy cabin in the woods.” Lone fox indeed. Lifa, in all her boldness and liberty taking ways, found that fluttering wisp of shyness again and wrapped herself in it like a gossamer curtain. She gazed around the carvings, pretending for a moment it was the walls of somewhere back home, walls of no kind like these in Atlas. “They are professional, if they absolutely have to be. But I’ll always be the mountain savage in their eyes. Simple. Barbaric. Always deserving less, me and all my people.” Lifa skipped her piece over one of Qrow’s, promptly claiming another avian life. “But it’s alright. They can reduce me in their eyes until they go blind with the effort…I won’t grant their scorn any governance over myself. I know my worth.” I know my worth. She repeated it to herself, even as she fought to believe it.

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qrow feels it. he feels it all when he drops his guard like this. his mind engaged, throat tingling with alcohol, belly full, a pretty someone happy in his company, means he eases into uncommon happiness right with Lifa, she’s not wrong. short-lived. rare, so rare that it doesn’t surprise him at all when the sunny girl suddenly turns to shotgun fire and his eyes blast open too. his gaze flits around to follow, over both shoulders and behind him, those bangs she so liked to tease over flying in all directions, blanket bunching coming loose to fall lower on his frame. what had he done now?

he expects to see something in flames, a carving collapsing, the cauldron bubbling over, but nothing. nothing so far. no, his semblance didn’t spark it, something he said must have hit a nerve. another gulp of mead attempts to calm his own.

he doesn’t even look back to the board yet; still listening instead. the least he can do.

it doesn’t hurt how much she has a way with words when she’s upset, apparently. it almost sounds like she’s giving a speech from some high and mighty ledge.

…all her people? that seemed an odd way to phrase it. something more tucked away for later.

he knows the look of someone pulling themselves together by thin threads. qrow and Raven so practiced at the art they could practically weave a tapestry of false security between them. Lifa’s pride glows like gold from the stern set jaw of her face. all the wildest images of undressing her that still simmer in his head couldn’t match the layers which peel away and leave her bare right now.

bird pieces on the same side of the board as the fox fall back in tactical retreat to regroup. it may look cowardly, but qrow doesn’t like loosing so many pieces. a belief in minimizing casualties never gained him much favor in the tribe, but he can play this game his own way. meanwhile, qrow himself scooches closer to Lifa once finished with his move, lying a gentle hand on her closest knee.

“hey,” rugged voice itself shrugs. what can he possibly say to that? to someone he barely knows? “…if you’re a mountain savage in atlas, then i’m a forest one in vale.”

not how to compliment someone. not even close to the best expression of himself, finding words and courage to do so remains a weak point. a shallow attempt at cheer his best bid to offer.

“speakin’ of,” touch removes as quickly as placed. clothes most certainly dry by now, he slides himself back towards the fire and pulls his pants back on beneath the blanket. (and a button catches, and the inner lining of hide tears, because there it is now, but he’s just not going to mention it and make sure the frustrated growl he lets out sounds like it’s from the awkwardness of tugging trousers on while sitting on the floor), “…ahem. don’t i still owe ya a song?”

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His small but meaningful efforts to reach her were noticed. His words draw a smile of a girl remembering that yes, there is someone here who likes her, who doesn’t look down his nose at her and wish her gone as quickly as possible. She’s seen. And what a terrifying strategy of war that was, sliding off pieces of armor and lowering her weapon baring hand to stand close to a fire that only burns when disrespected. His hand startles her smile. Lifa didn’t know how to interpret it, the gesture was so utterly audacious of him that she had to remind herself that it could be just barely defined as treason, if facts were stretched. All her life, she was raised on a pedestal whilst kneeling in pious servitude, having to always walk the line between an acolyte and an idol. But in a single gently red hot touch, he reminded her that none of those things were in this cabin now. This boy was all equal parts mysterious, smart mouthed and utterly tender. What a way to make her head foggy and her cheeks flush for a few moments when she realized her leg felt cold now that his palm was away and she wanted it back. Was her heart going to jump out and do a dance it was clearly gearing to do? Lifa’s lips split into her lopsided grin and she promptly made herself comfortable among their blankets, stretching out on her stomach and propping her chin in one hand to peer at him expectantly through her eyelashes, feet raised lazily in the air. A rather flattering view of certain…curves. “You most certainly do and I am all ears.” she declared, eager for him to keep his end of the bargain.

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good. great. fantastic. maybe he could complete this while outrunning his next slip up of semblance. he downs the last dregs of his drink and pushes it all to the back of his mind, pulling forward instead the memories of bonfire revelry he grew up with at least weekly.

even if qrow had any idea of the standard which Lifa carries in her head, he holds little affection for authority, and far less regard for its rules - demonstrated in no greater way than how he decides for himself that pants make him decent enough, and finally lets furs fall to move around freely.

anyway, for his people, putting too many barriers between one’s body and the flames carrying tribute to the sky is what’s nearly blasphemous.

he finds a sturdy wooden footstool and sets it before the hearth. usual seating would place him looking into the fire to watch a flickering dance and let it focus and guide his beat, but tonight a far hotter view demands his attention on the opposite side. he chooses to cross legs and sit between burning logs and a makeshift drum with his back to the glow. shadows shift along his skin, and likewise darkened eyes openly drag over Lifa’s form; one brow raises in appreciation of long, thick layers draping in more revealing ways, wildfire locks flowing loose around her shoulders, and posture so eager and attentive.

with a head toss to rustle hair in her direction for some hype of what’s about to come, he’ll count it success if he can half match the show she gives him just lying there.

the song demands something of a primal nature, and she makes it too easy for him to call forth.

with no accompaniment or other instruments available, he’ll have to make do with keeping it simple. open palms strike the edge of the stool to make sharp sounds. after that, one hand forms a fist to summon a richer, deeper sound from the center. then, both.

♫ ♫

pat, pat pat, pat

bam, bam, bam, bam, bam

bam, pat, bam, pat, bam, pat, bam, pat…

to keep up with the rhythm of drumming, his body begins to rock, throwing controlled energy into the force of each beat. qrow tightens his belly taut like a drum itself to let foreign lyrics follow in gruff, gutteral chants bouncing from deep in his chest to vibrate in his throat and release with huffed air and hisses. the closest to singing the fry of his voice lets him get.

qrow’s heard it enough times to repeat, though clueless of any translation.

Нэг л хун их л гунигтай Ижлээ хайн тэмүүлэв гэнэ Эргэн тойронд хэрэн хэсэж Хайртай хосоо олов гэнэ Оройтож олдсон тэр л хайранд Умбан наадан жаргав гэнэ Орчлон дэлхийг мартан дурлаж Олон хоногийг элээв гэнэ Үртэй болсноо ижилдээ дуулган Үүрд хамт байхаа амлав гэнэ Өсөж торнисон нуурандаа гэрлэж…

♫ ♫

#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *#* i gave you my life = past *

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