#like not just accents (although that’s definitely also a big thing) but like. voices themselves

[steampunk-raven]

funny thing i’ve noticed about my system is that we don’t have super different voices while thinking—different mannerisms, sure, but our voices are fairly similar. However. When talking out loud? Super different 😂

[a-simple-imagine]

New Student

Requested by anonymous: “I was thinking maybe having the reader be a transfer student from Ilvermorny and Hermione tutors her to help her catch up with the curriculum of the new school.”

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings - Prejudice and brief mention of pain

"I understand that your family is of pure descent, correct?" You can't help but fidget in your seat; the vibrant pink of her office was making you extremely uncomfortable. Not to mention the gentle mewing coming from the plates that decorated the walls. It was one thing to love cats but surely this grew annoying after a while. You nod a little as you sit up straighter. The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was currently reading your transfer file. Having once attended school overseas, you were new to Hogwarts but instead of arriving like everyone else you were in your fifth year of education and the term had already begun for everyone else. Of course, your father cleared this with the school ahead of time but it was still embarrassing arriving so late. Not to mention, everyone else had four years of relationships and you were now just some weird new kid. "I do hope you'll consider your friends wisely while attending Hogwarts."

"May I ask what you mean by that Professor?" That was the first question you had asked since stepping through that door and you were very quickly regretting it. The woman wore a sickeningly sweet smile as she lowered the file from before her face.

"As a fifth-year student, you will be expected to take your OWLs this year. Do you believe your last establishment has prepared you for your examinations?"

"I guess," you shrug. You'd never had any trouble getting good grades in the past but Professor Umbridge didn't look convinced. Scribbling something down on her parchment, she pauses for a moment to meet your eyes.

"I would suggest acquiring a tutor for additional support. I can arrange for one of your peers to meet with you."

"That's quite alright, Professor." You dread to think of the tutor she would assign you; probably someone very studious and strict. Boring comes to mind too. "You're much too busy to concern yourself with such a task. I believe I'm quite capable of finding someone on my own."

"It is great to see a young witch taking some initiative," Her smile felt more genuine this time whereas yours was awkward.

"If that is all, may I go?"

"Of course. Run along dear" Slowly rising, you wish you could actually run out of the office and never come back but you proceed calmly. Only stopping by the door when you hear her speak once more. "But do keep in mind what I've said. We wouldn't want you falling in with the wrong kind of wizards while you're here. I expect your last school taught you how to conduct yourself."

"Thank you for your time, Professor Umbridge." With a bow of your head, you slip out the door with a sigh of the utmost relief. She was a very... intense woman to be around. After one meeting, you had another but this time it was with your head of house. Having arrived so late, you didn't partake in the sorting ceremony; which honestly you were kind of grateful for. Having to be sorted with a bunch of eleven-year-olds in front of the whole school definitely would have followed you around. Professor McGonagall briskly glides down the hallway as you stumble a few steps behind. She was the head of Gryffindor.

"I hate to be a bother but Professor Umbridge suggested I get a tutor and I was wondering if you might know a suitable candidate? With having started a few weeks after everyone else and OWLs fast approaching, I thought it was best to be safe than sorry"

"Your transcripts from your previous school don't suggest you'll have much trouble but a tutor may be beneficial," The older woman glanced back at you with a warm smile. "I have the perfect witch for the job. She's a real credit to Gryffindor. You were in Thunderbird previously?"

"Yes ma'am. Thunderbird House was considered to represent the soul of a witch or wizard and favoured adventures," you announce proudly. "I've never felt like much of an adventurer myself though."

"I'm sure you'll be a grand edition to Gryffindor. I may be biased but we're the best house at Hogwarts."

"I don't doubt that," Although you had no clue about any of the other houses to compare. "If you don't mind me asking Professor, where are we going?"

"To introduce you to your new tutor. She's in your first class so I thought I would escort you."

"Oh," You scramble forward a little faster to keep up with the woman; falling into step. "Do you think she'll be enough? I transferred at such an awkward time."

Hogwarts castle was as big as you'd imagine which made the journey to your first class seem like an eternity. As you're led down the hallway and into the dungeon, it's like the atmosphere completely changes. It's dark and cold down here. She comes to a stop outside a classroom, you peer around Professor McGonagall to see students sat at desks with small cauldrons placed before them.

"Can I speak to Miss Granger?" McGonagall asks of the teacher. He didn't seem too happy about the intrusion but he doesn't object. After a moment, a girl with luscious locks of mahogany brown steps through the door; she looks worried.

"Have I done something wrong, Professor?" Her eyes fall to yours and you offer up a small smile which she returns.

"Of course not. I just wanted to introduce you to our newest student. She'll be joining Gryffindor and was in the market for a tutor. As one of the finest students in all of Hogwarts, I thought of you."

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in response to the praise. "I would be happy to help, Professor."

It was becoming more clear that whoever this girl was, she was very eager to please. It was written in her body language or the way she addressed McGonagall. She introduces herself as Hermione Granger before heading back into class to ensure she doesn't miss anything. The nerves set in as you realise you're supposed to follow.

"A new student for you, Professor." Guess there was no turning back, you step through the archway. It was rather dull and dark but it matched the feeling of the dungeons. The shelves were lined with varying ingredients and while students had previously been working on potions, now all their attention was drawn to you.

"A little late for new additions," The man spoke slowly; he had a nasally sound to his voice. His displeasure transformed into a scowl aimed directly at you. The whispers of nosey students fill the awkward silence

"I'm-"

"Just take a seat," He demands and you didn't think twice about it. Hurrying to the first open seat you could find. "We don't have time for frivolous introductions."

Potions class had never been something you had struggled with but it seemed that the Professor - whose name you had come to learn as Snape - seemed to be making it as difficult as possible. Every question was thrown at you despite other students who will not be named being so eager to answer them. They were also specific questions such as where to find certain ingredients within the confines of the UK which you had no clue. You knew today was going to be a very long day.

Lunchtime approached and nothing felt more daunting today than being in a room full of students and not knowing a single one. You park yourself down at the end of Gryffindor table, food lined the middle and you grab a few sandwiches placing them on your plate. You're not sure if it's relief or something else when you spot the only girl you knew so far come to join you; followed by some friends.

"McGonagall gave me your timetable," She announces, sitting down opposite you. "and I have created a schedule that ensures we have enough time to cover everything."

"When did you have time to make this?" You wonder, taking a bite of the sandwich you'd picked up. It wasn't half bad.

"Never underestimate Hermione's ability to do a boring task," Next to her sat a boy with ginger hair; he wore a welcoming smile on his face that was peppered with freckles. "I'm Ron by the way."

The others that had arrived alongside Hermione, introduced themselves one by one. There was Ginny Weasley who was related to Ron; even if she hadn't told you it wasn't hard to figure out. Then there was the famous Harry Potter. A name you knew only in passing; rumours spread all around the world about him. Hermione slides a piece of parchment across the table. Along the top sat the days of the week and down the side were hours within the day. They were colour coded by type so each potion class and potion study sessions were in green and so on. Pretty much every square had been filled in with one boring task or another. "This is... a lot."

"Considering our classes this morning, you seem rather behind so I thought it was best that we take every opportunity to bring you up to speed," Having moved to England, the accent and speed in which they spoke was rather hard to understand but you don't bring it up. "We have a lot to cover before exams."

"I'm actually rather good at potions," you protest. "Professor Snape was asking me weird questions. How am I supposed to know where to find things, I've only just moved here."

"Snape can be a right git," Ron mumbles through a mouth full of food.

"You're from America, right?" This time it's Harry who speaks. There's a part of you that wants to ask about his scar but considering you've just met it seemed too rude to voice.

"Yes," you nod. "I attended Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry until my father insisted on sending me here once we moved."

"Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in the world." Hermione declares. "Or so I've read."

"I liked my old school," You'd grown used to the mechanics of Ilvermorny plus you had friends there. "Hermione, no offence, but I would kind of like to have a little fun while I'm here and this leaves no time for literally anything else? What about clubs or quidditch?"

"Studying is fun. What could be more beneficial than acquiring new knowledge," Hermione's expression is genuine but you can't see yourself thinking studying is the epitome of fun any time soon. "I will not let Professor McGonagall down by not preparing you properly. So that means hard work- we will start after lunch."

"Is she always like this?" You turn to the others.

"Pretty much." They all agree. Maybe this had been a mistake?

"So you're the new girl, huh?" A shadow lingers over you and you look up to the culprit. That vibrant red hair seemed to be everywhere, you frown a little before looking to Ron.

"Heard you came all the way from America." Another one appears beside him, a broad smile on display. Twins?

"They're my brothers," Ron answers the question before you can even ask. There sure were a lot of Weasleys in this castle.

"How many Weasleys are there?"

"I have six siblings, Ginny is the youngest. Bill, Charlie and Percy have already left though."

"I'm Fred." One of the twins announces, patting your shoulder a little. "The most handsome Weasley brother."

"I'm George and I'm much more handsome than that git," He shoves his brother playfully.

"You're identical twins,"

"No, we're not," George protests. "Fred here is adopted. I can't believe you think we look the same."

"I'm offended you think I look like this tosspot, I'm much prettier." He dramatically pretends to flip his hair over his shoulder.

"We can show you around if you like?" They both offer; as bad as it sounds you knew you were gonna struggle remembering who was who.

"We know every corner of this place." Fred declares

"Every nook and cranny." George continues. "We also the guys to go to if you ever need anything- think fanged frisbees or puking pastels. We've got you covered."

"Uh..." Glancing to your timetable, you hold it up for them to see. "I don't think I'll have time for a tour between classes and study sessions."

"Shame."

"Guess we'll see you around then, Miss America." They both leave you alone to finish your lunch. 

Written down Hermione's schedule was a lot but attending sessions was ten times worse.  The constant studying was exhausting; how she was able to just keep going was crazy but impressive. Today was Arithmancy study in the Gryffindor common room. You were sat beside Hermione at the desk; sketching her side profile on the parchment filled with unfinished sums as she explained what she was doing. Every so often she'd look at you and you'd look away. Careful not to get caught staring as you perfected each delicate line that made up her face.

"And that's how you get fifty-six- see?" Hermione shows you her work, tapping the answer with the tip of her quill.

Staring at the answer didn't make much sense but neither did the working out. You hadn't been listening at all so you flash her a sympathetic smile. "I don't get it,"

"Are you even paying attention?" Her brow crinkled; her quill falling to the desk.

"Yes-"

"Let's see your work then?" Before she can grab it, you drag your parchment away. Smothering the contents with the palms of your hands.

"No."

"Show me." She requested firmly. Eyes narrowing in on you as if issuing a challenge. With a heavy sigh, you back down. Handing over your work.

"Fine. I wasn't paying attention," You admit with a shrug; leaning over the back of the chair to stare up at the ceiling. "Arithmancy is just so boring."

"You chose to take it,"

"My parents forced me to take it," You correct, glancing back at her. Taking your parchment between her fingers, it's hard to miss the rush of colour that floods her pale cheeks. You didn't think your drawing was that good; definitely not even close to some of your other work. If anything you were embarrassed by how bad it was.

"It's pretty rough like I could do better if I had more time and my pencils" Drawing provided you with a distraction when it was most needed. You'd only started a year ago but it quickly developed into your hobby of choice. Learning to sketch people had been tough but after spending pretty much every class, staring at your fellow students you had gotten decent at it.

"It's..." Hermione trails off, handing back your work. "Can you please focus?"

"We've been at this for hours." A long groan leaves your throat as you slump down in your seat. Arms folded over your chest.

"Just a few more questions before we finish,"

You were finally growing used to your life at Hogwarts. Most of your time was spent with Hermione but you did manage to convince her to ease up a little. She grew busy with a club or something so she was more than happy to leave you to your own devices.

"You wanted to see me, Professor," you announce, entering the pink lion's den. It was somehow looking even pinker than the last time you stepped foot in here.

"Ah yes, please do take a seat. I'll be just a moment." Dropping your bag down beside the chair, you sit in the seat she signalled to. There wasn't a lot of time before you were supposed to meet Hermione to practice some charms. After a moment, Professor Umbridge speaks up. "Do you know why I've asked to see you?"

You shake your head slowly.

"Do you remember what I told you when you first arrived?"

"To get a tutor? I don't believe I'm falling behind in my classes." Hermione had been a great teacher overall; ensuring you understand everything before moving on although Snape still had a habit of asking you questions you didn't know. Was this about that?

"I'm referring to your choice in companions."

"Oh," you swallow hard. You didn't know what to say to that. Since arriving you'd started hanging with Hermione and her friends. You'd also found yourself drawn to the Weasley twins on the odd occasion. "Uh... I can assure you I've made friends Professor."

"I've noticed," she didn't sound pleased "Professor Snape also mentioned that you've been a wee bit disruptive in his class."

"That's not a fair judgment-" The words leave your lips sharper than intended but fall short when you notice the crease across the other woman's forehead.

"As headmaster, you must realise that I can't allow you to disrupt the way this school runs. Therefore you will be punished." Other than getting questions wrong, you wouldn't say you've done much else wrong in Snape's class. It wasn't fair that you were being punished for something so trivial but speaking up seemed like a one way trip to something worse. "Don't look so worried. You'll just be writing lines for me."

"Writing lines," you repeat cautiously. That seemed easy enough before you could reach into your bag, a quill and piece of parchment are placed before you. "What do you want me to write?"

"I must not fraternise with muggle-borns,"

"What does that have to do with Snape's class?" You wonder.

"Just do as your told," Umbridge quips quickly. "I do believe you've been seen around the castle with Miss Granger, correct?"

"Hermione?" You hardly believed Hermione had done anything to step out of line. Plus what did that have to do with anything? You were allowed to be friends with whoever you wanted. "Of course she is my tutor after all."

"It seems it may be more than that," Umbridge's sickeningly sweet giggle fills the office. "Now please begin."

"You haven't given me any ink?"

Striding behind her desk, she takes a seat and offers a smile. "You won't need any,"

Picking up the quill, you twist it between your fingers trying to figure out its secrets. It was black in colour, long, thin, and looked to be extremely sharp. Clearly, it was an enchanted quill if it didn't need ink. The tip glides across the paper with ease, gracing its surface with the ridiculous phrase you'd been forced to write in shiny red ink. How many times was she expecting you to do this? Hermione wouldn't be happy if you turned up late to one of your study sessions... again. A weird tingling spilt through the back of your hand before transforming into a sharp pain as you write the phrase a second time. Each letter appeared on your hand as you write it as if etched there by a scalpel. You drop the quill and the words slowly fade away but not without leaving your hand red. "Keep writing," Umbridge draws your attention, peering over from behind her teacup. You take a deep breath and write I must not fraternize with muggle-borns, the searing pain returned to your hand as you saw the phrase carved into your skin. You flex your hand as if that would relieve the pain but again the wound heels over. You no longer stopped between each line, the burning in your hand now a constant but it seemed after so many times the phrase was no longer fading. The hand on your shoulder startles you; the quill slipping from your grip.

"I think that's enough, you're free to go." Grabbing your bag, you leap out of your seat and rush for the door. "As a witch of your social standing, you should know better."

Head down, you charge through the castle to go meet Hermione but your speed slows as you realise tears prick your eyes. Dropping down on the nearest bench, you bury your face in your hands. Surely that kind of punishment wasn't allowed?

"If it isn't our favourite American." Head shooting up, you spy Fred and George. After all this time, you were beginning to be able to tell them apart.

"Why so glum, chum?" Your eyes drift just briefly to the scar on your hand. The twins taking up space either side of you.

"It's nothing- I'm fine."

"If you're fine, why are you crying?" Fred puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm not crying," but you have to wipe your cheeks to make sure. "I just..." you couldn't explain why you were so upset. Your thumb brushes over the back of your hand.

"Oh- it's no so bad," Fred squeezes your arm gently, they must have figured it out. "It'll fade soon enough."

"And it doesn't hurt very long, look." George shows you the back of his hand, you can't even read what it was supposed to have said. It doesn't make you feel better. "Don't cry, she's not worth it."

"Can you two leave me alone?"

"Nope," George's thumb brushes away a stray tear before tapping you on the end of your nose. You couldn't help but smile a little as you scrunched up your nose.

"We don't leave pretty sad girls alone in corridors to cry." Fred insists. "How about you show us what she had you write?"

Unsure about the decision, you let the two of them see what Umbridge had done. George takes hold of your hand, inspecting it carefully. "I must not fraternize with muggle-borns," George reads out quietly. "Do much fraternizing do you?"

"I don't even know any muggle-borns," Is all you say in response. Muggle was such a dumb word.

"Uh... Hermione? Aren't you two like best friends," Fred comments

"Hermione is No-Maj-born?" So that was why Umbridge had seemed so interested in your relationship. It was clear she held prejudice against No-Majs so it was only logical that she was trying to keep you, a pure-blood wizard, from mixing with Hermione, A no-maj-born.

"No-maj?" George questions

"Right, no-maj stand for no magic? You call em muggles." You sniffle, drying your cheeks properly.

"Ah no-maj." they both repeat.

Feeling a little better the twins escort you to your courtyard for your session with Hermione. She was packing up her textbook when she finally notices you. 0What did I tell you about punctuation? I will not tolerate sitting around here like a fool- if you do not wish to take your studies seriously then don't bother asking me to tutor you at all." The fire behind her eyes brings you to tears only this time they were hot and fast. Spilling down your face as a result of being yelled at. Hermione's expression drops, your tears extinguishing the fire. "I- Uh... sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I-It's alright," With the sleeve of your cardigan, you try to wipe away all evidence of your breakdown.

"What's wrong with your hand?"

"Umbridge," You don't even try to conceal it now. "I don't think she likes that we're hanging out."

"I'm sorry she did that to you," She takes your hand in hers, her fingertip dancing delicately over your scar. It was ripe to the touch causing you to flinch a little; pulling your hand away. "You should tell your parents."

"And cause more trouble?" Was she crazy? "I don't want to give her any more reason to drag me into the office again."

"Then... if you don't wish to continue our study sessions, I would understand. I don't want to get you into trouble." Hermione fidgets with the strap of her bag, unable to look you in the eye. It was probably the smartest choice to never hang out with Hermione again. It would certainly save you from future punishments but if you did that you'd undoubtedly miss her. She'd become such a constant In your life, you could imagine it without her in it.

"I like our sessions together," You declare, offering her the warmest smile you could muster. "Can we skip today though? My hand stings and I'm really not in the mood anymore."

"Sure," Her smile looks almost sad in comparison. "Should we go get some dinner?" 

Finishing up packing, the two of you head for the great hall. There was no way Umbridge was gonna dictate who you can be friends with even if it meant more punishment.

Christmas approaches fast and brought with it a merry aura that filled every inch of the castle. You linger in the courtyard with your suitcase waiting for Hermione. She promised to meet you before you left but had a commitment to attend to first. You don't question her but you do wish she'd hurry up; it was awfully cold out here. It's a miracle when she finally shows up, a bright smile as she approaches

"I just wanted to give you this before I go." Digging through your pockets, you produce a folded up piece of paper; taking a few steps closer.

"What is it?"

"Open it," The nerves settled in your stomach as she unfolded the paper. This time, using your pencils, you'd manage to create an almost collage of sketches. Each one of the girl who stood next to you right now during different times in the past month. It seemed like a nice little farewell gift. "Have a good break, yeah?"

"These are... you're really good." Hermione meets your soft gaze. Her face pink in colour but that may have been due to the cold. "Thank you." She wears a small, embarrassed smile. "When did you have time to draw these?"

"Never underestimate my ability to avoid my responsibilities and draw pretty girls instead," you tease. Leaning toward you place a kiss against her cheek before pointing to the address you'd written on the bottom. "Write to me."

[bookaddict24-7]

REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Books I’ve read so far in 2022!

Friend me on Goodreads here to follow my more up to date reading journey for the year!

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217. Blood Like Fate by Liselle Sambury--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I received a copy from the publisher. This did not affect my rating in any way. I was curious about how this book would go because I will admit that I was a little overwhelmed by the first book. I just remember thinking that there was a lot going on and that the story could use a little trimming. BUT. Although it took me a little bit to get into this one because it had been a while since I'd read the first book, I grew to really appreciate where Sambury took this book. There were some instances where I wanted to punch some characters in the face because that good old empathy for the MC was coming in hot, but I, like her, grew to understand the MC's personal growth and how she was viewed by the other characters affected by her actions and decisions. I think that this is a really good portrayal of what it might look like when someone so young is given so much unwanted responsibility. Also, how it looks when that wariness for said responsibility is constantly being reinforced by the adults around the young person. Instead of offering support, judgment was the MC's keeper. Although, in retrospect, she DID make some very bad choices in book one and this book was essentially a "you reap what you sow" type of situation. There were also some really sad twists in this that took me by surprise and genuinely had me with my jaw dropping. This was a great conclusion to this duology because we DID get some conclusions to the multiple storylines introduced to the first book. I did think the climax of the story was a little too soft and there were definitely things that could have been trimmed down, but to be honest, for a debut? This was pretty impressive and a big story to write. I'd recommend this duology to anyone who loves a fantasy set in Toronto, and for anyone who likes seeing some serious character growth!

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218. A Proposal They Can’t Refuse by Natalie Caña--⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

This popped up on my radar earlier this year and I was immediately intrigued, especially because it is Latine rep! Plus, enemies to lovers childhood friends? Yes, please. AND fake relationships?! Extra yes, please!! I listened to this one during an overnight I had to do for work and it went by incredibly quickly. It was interesting and pulled me in right from the beginning, although I could see where it was going from the moment a hint of the final climactic situation popped up. While I loved the rep in this and the Spanish (so glad the voice narrator did justice to the Spanish accents), I was immediately reminded of this post I saw once where you could tell the difference between a book written with the white reader's gaze in mind and not necessarily with the Latine reader's gaze. This book explained every single instance where Spanish or Spanish food was introduced. I'm talking a translating sentence for every Spanish one spoken. I absolutely disliked that because it felt so...redundant for me and I can only imagine that it might also feel redundant for others who speak Spanish. I get why it's done, but also...let people translate sentences themselves because doing so every time is jarring and immediately pulled me out of the story. Anyway, 3.5 for the story and angst and enemies to lovers, but not higher because the translating and white-explaining of everything was annoying.

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219. Because of Low by Abbi Glines--⭐️⭐️

RE-READ August 2022 This book was so cringe. I updated my rating. This had the whole "Innocent girl is sexy" thing and it kind of creeped me out tbh. Especially when the female MC asked the love interest what he was doing and he said that he was watching her sleep and she said something along the lines of, "He was always so sweet to me." I just remember stopping and laughing because wtf. Anyway, yeah, this was no bueno and just eh. So much worse than the first book tbh. But I also get that this was a regular theme and trope in the early 2010s when it came to new adult romance--where the beautiful, white (usually blonde or redhead) was put on a pedestal because she's this symbol of beautiful purity that didn't know she was beautiful until the hot (usually rich) white dude came in and saved her. Which, in retrospect is a trope in another book of Glines' that I love but you know, I am willing to turn a blind eye sometimes when the book drama is too yummy to look away from. But this was dull and just, *shrug*. Anyway, yay. Throwback. LOL. Also, I read this for the first time NINE years ago. Wow, my mentality has hella changed, which begs the question: How will readers the same age as I was the year I read this think of their current obsessions with romances involving borderline psychotic or stalkerish love interests?

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220. Hot for Teacher by Whitley Cox--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I read this on vacation so I will just do a bullet point type of review based on my notes: 1. Loved the mother/daughter relationship 2. Loved that they both respected the mother/daughter relationship (the female MC and the love interest) 3. Loved the anticipation of the spice and the drama. 4. Didn't love how wishy-washy the female MC was, even though I understand her situation. 5. The perfect start to a series that I now really want to continue! I'd recommend this for anyone who wants a 3.5/5 spice level romance between a widowed young mother and a nerdy but surprisingly sexy teacher who was once the female MC's very young teacher in high school. Also, if you love dual perspective narratives!

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221. The Sweetest Oblivion by Danielle Lori--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I get the appeal of this but...it wasn't my favourite. I read this on vacation, so I will do a bullet form type of review from my notes: 1. Mob romances are always intriguing to me because the romance is a different but enticing level of dark. The kind you would never want for yourself, but you find spicy because of the separation of fiction and real life. 2. The male MC had a great character arc. I think he changed and grew a lot more than the female MC. 3. The female MC was a bit stagnant--she was the classic "great and innocent beauty...or is she?" trope. And I am still on the fence how I feel about that trope. Sometimes I love it, but usually I find it annoying. 4. This had a miscommunication trope as the main conflict and I hated that so much. 5. This book felt like it would never end. It felt so LONG and sorry, but also kind of boring. 6. This was a lot more of a slowburn than I thought it would be--which I normally love, but I found it boring in this instance. 7. There WAS some good spice in this, but not as much as I was expecting. I don't think I'm going to be reading the next book. I don't know if this author is for me.

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222. Blind Side by Kandi Steiner--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I read this on vacation, so here is a simple review: 1. Loved the fake dating trope. 2. The spice was incredible. 3. Love that the female MC was a romance lover because the tropes were met with the irony (like the moment where a guy mentioned that she was "not like other girls" and she cringed because she hated that trope.) 4. Ran a little long in some instances, but then we didn't get to see some scenes that I would have loved to see. Main reason for the lost star in the rating is because we were told of these scenes rather than shown them. 5. Not my favourite sports romance, but it was overall enjoyable and I would definitely recommend it. Especially if you love fake dating, friends to lovers, and very very spicy moments.

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Have you read any of these? Would you recommend them?

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Happy reading!

[myrwritesfootie]

Like The Old Days - Chapter Two - Mason Mount

Who: Mason Mount x Original Female Character Words: 1629 Disclaimer: I do not know Mason Mount or anyone else mentioned in these writings. Note: So the first chapter was just mainly an introduction, this chapter is nearly double of the previous chapter and I hope you all like it.

July 31st, 2017. Arnhem, Netherlands

The weather was quite chilly for a day in the middle of the summer. Not that it was a strange occurance in the Netherlands. It was one of the things I disliked the most about living in this country. I am someone who preferred the sun and the warmth. Unfortunately that was not going to happen anytime soon.

Despite the dreary weather, I knew that I would have to enjoy the summer as much as possible before it was over and before I would start on my last year of education. Just one more year and then it was time to find work. Something I just didn’t want to think about just yet. I actually liked my school years until now.

The voice of my friend next to me pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Iris? This is like the third time you blanked on me, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Marie asked and I quickly blinked, a guilty expression on my face. “I’m sorry Mar. What were you saying again?”

The blonde sighed - clearly exaggarating, the smile on her lips giving that away as well as she looked at me  over the edge of her sunglasses, bright blue eyes looking into my own hazel ones. “I was asking if you were up for going out for a drink this afternoon, after I finished work. It shouldn’t be a long day and they say that the weather will only get better by the end of the day. Pretty please?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. It was an ever returning question from Marie whenever the weather was nice in the city. “Fine, we are going out for a drink, but we are going to bring our own drinks and we are going to the park,” I encountered. Marie squinted her eyes for a moment, but then nodded. “Deal. I’ll ask Frances, Yvette and Sanne as well to see if they want to come.”

Even now I could already tell that the park was going to be packed. The park in the middle of the city was one of the most beautiful places in Arnhem, at least in my opinion. Whenever the sun was shining, it was busy. The slight slope in the grass made it a perfect place for sunbathing but also to have some barbecues in the summer. It was as if a big part of the city made its way into the park and my friends and I were definitely no exception.

The morning at our secondary school was one that finished pretty quickly. Marie and I were busy with our second year, with two more years to follow after this. After that university would probably follow if we were to choose for that, but so far I have not been interested in that. It meant more years at school while I knew what I wanted the most; I wanted to do something physical. I wanted to mean something for people, I wanted to travel. I did not want to get back in the school benches once more when I was done with this level of education.

So while Marie left to get to her job, I went back home. A home where a young brother had been bouncing around the house for some time now because our local football team Vitesse had been having a good pre-season so far and new names had been signed. With the Johan Cruijff Shield coming up at the start of the season, the football vibe was big in our house, with my brother bouncing off the walls. I liked football too but I had to admit that I didn’t like our own competition much. That’s what you get when you get hooked on the Premier League. The pace and level of that league was so much higher than our Eredivisie so who can really blame me, right? So where Sam - my younger brother - had a yellow and black obsession, I had a red one. A Liverpool shaped one.

The moment I walked into the house, it was clear that my mum was pissed off. “Sam de Jong, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t get to kick that ball around inside.” The sight of shattered pieces on the floor that had previously been a longdrink glass came into my view as I walked into the living room.

“I’m sorry mum! I was trying to score the winning goal.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the words of my ten year old brother. As soon as I saw the look on my mother’s face, I bit my lower lip to stop myself from laughing.

“I just came by to let you know I’ll be at the park for the afternoon and also probably for dinner,” I quickly said, before leaving the room again so I could get upstairs, not wanting to witness the disaster that Sam was about to face.

It was only a short visit at home. While I freshened up after school - and listened to my mother yell at Sam while making him clean up the mess that he had made, I quickly looked through some messages on my phone where the other girls already showed that they had bought drinks and food already for the park.

Once I got the message from Marie that she was on her way to the park, I left the house as well. The park was only a short walk from my house but because I was known as the lazy one of my friends (and it was probably true as well), I picked the bike as my form of transport to the sunny greenery in the centre of the city. It didn't take long for me to find my friends, who had perched themselves on a large blanket in the grass. Many people had thought the same thing as we did. Other little groups had formed on the grass, some guys were kicking a football around while yelling at each other. In English. Which wasn't that rare here in Arnhem.

As I reached my friends, I just heard the last bit of a sentence Francis had said. "- is pretty cute." I rolled my eyes at the words, Francis was probably one of the biggest guy crazy people I had met but I loved her for it. I followed her gaze and found the footballing guys on the end of it. Oh, and Francis had a preference for athletes.

"Of course you have found the cutest guy in the entire park already," Marie said as she waved at me, holding out a glass with some fizzy drink in it. I looked over my shoulder and had to agree with Francis, however. The brown haired young man standing closest to us was not bad on the eyes. They were probably around the same age as us.

It was always good to spend free afternoons in the sun with my friends. For a moment there was not a worry in the world - although my mother would counter that at my age I did not have any worries. Laughing seemed to be the best remedy against long boring school days. I tried my best to zoom back into the story that Marie was telling. "So my brothers were in the backyard, mum kept yelling at them to grey inside for dinner, that they had to stop fooling around. They didn't listen at all, continued playing rugby and next moment, the ball went through the window. Mum was livid." I shook my head, a laugh escaping me as I thought back at the scene between my own brother and mother. 

"Your brothers aren't the only ones good at breaking glass. Sam wanted to score the winning goal for the Johan Cruijff Shield and thought it was a good idea to do that inside. I walked in on -"

Before I could finish my sentence, this time I was interrupted by a sudden football hitting in the middle of our picnic cloth and knocking glasses over, the ball ending in my lap. I was too surprised to jump up like some of the other girls were doing. 

"I'm so sorry ladies, my friend over there did a terrible job controlling the ball." A male voice spoke up in a British accent. It had to be one of the guys who had been kicking the ball around just a few meters away from us. A look up confirmed that it was the cute brown haired one who had come over to collect the ball in my lap. From up close he was even closer. Dark eyes matched his hair and a smile was on his lips, a shy one at that. He was our age, maybe just a bit older but when he smiled he had crinkles next to his eyes. It was Marie who found her voice back as the first one, of course she was. 

"You can definitely say that. He should learn how to play football." The guy standing with us left out a chuckle, even though I did not understand why it was so funny what Marie had said. 

"I'll let my friend Mitchell know." His gaze moved in my direction, since I had the ball. "I really am sorry…" he trailed off, not knowing which name to add to the end of the sentence. A very smooth way to ask for my name although I didn't even realise it. I scrambled onto my feet finally with the ball in my hands. "It's Iris. Here's your ball back." I held out the ball to him, his fingertips brushing mine for just a second as he took it from me. 

"Thank you Iris. I'm Mason."

[yoditorian]

a law divine - 1

soulmate au!ezra/reader

this is solely the fault of one single anon who called out something i put in the tags and now it’s a whole universe but you know what?? it’s the love of my life. anon i hope u see this 💛 i also just want to say i know there isn’t A Lot of soulmate talk in this one but it’s important for the narrative okay bear with me

playlist // series masterlist // main masterlist 

word count: 7.2k (a Big Boy)

warnings: swearing, my usual allusions to smut bc we keep things neutral in this house, brief food/alcohol mentions, 18+ please no babies

It might be the ugliest ship you’ve ever seen.

Not that you’re really one to judge, the one you charter out when you’re running point on a job is a mismatched patchwork of rusty panels held together with electrical tape and hope. If there’s the slightest possibility you might be a teeny tiny bit disappointed in it, it’s only because agency jobs are usually a little cushier. A little safer for once. You could do with a bit safer. 

Your family might prefer a lot safer, but you’d sooner take your chances in open space without a suit than take a job working scrapyards. At least risking your life on digs gets a decent payout.

“You the danger mouse?” 

It’s not an accent you hear often on the Pug, the majority of the station’s population is human, but you turn with a smile to meet the bright purple eyes of the Thanne. Armour-strong scales and sharp teeth, but he seems kind and mild mannered despite his clear predatory biology. You nod as you readjust the pack on your shoulders.

“I’m Iras.” He holds his hand out to you. A distinctly human gesture made a little awkward by the sharp edged scales and extra fingers, but you shake it nonetheless. He’s your captain for this job after all. You wonder where a Thanne became so well versed in human custom, the species as a whole tend to keep to themselves instead of branching out into the universe like so many others, until his crew members appear on the boarding ramp.

Iras gestures to each of them in turn. Summer, a blonde woman with dark skin and a kind smile, and Milo, an older man with a swirling tattoo above his left eyebrow that matches the navy blue of his eyes.

“Is it just us?” You ask. You could have sworn there was a fifth name on the manifest you’d been forwarded, but teams are always subject to change. You just hope you’ll have your own room.

“Ezra always leaves things down to the wire, he’ll show up right before we’re due to push out.” Summer laughs fondly, throwing an arm around your shoulders like she’s known you her whole life. You’re usually a little wary with brand new teams but the way she’s already chatting away makes you feel at home. The last agency job you were sent on got dicey, fast, somehow you’re sure the same won’t happen with this lot.

“There he is.” Milo leans out of the ship to point out into the docks. 

You turn to see a man sauntering through the throngs of harvesters towards the ship, and it’s odd. The rest of the crowd seems to melt away as he closes the distance, even the weight of Summer’s arm on your shoulders feels not quite there. You take the moment to study him. He looks all business with his dark hair and his charcoal grey shirt and the neat pack slung over his shoulder, but his pants and boots have seen better days and the streak of blonde at his temple makes you smile. It’s nice to finally be with a crew without a single stuffy addition. 

“It’s not often I get to congregate with like-minded souls.” He grins when he’s in earshot, a flash of something feline in his eyes. You don’t want to admit that you like it.

“Like-minded?” You tilt your head at him as you follow Summer up the ramp and into the ship. Ezra slips in behind you just as it starts to raise. Just like the others said.

“We’ve all got the same death wish, Sunspot.”

The launch, at least, is smooth despite the beaten up ship and it’s only about twenty minutes before you’re far enough from the Pug to punch a lane to the next system over. At least it isn’t far, there’s only a day between now and making planetfall. Somehow, you’re not surprised to find that it’s more of a barracks and bunk beds situation rather than each having a private quarters. Last time you were hired by the agency, you definitely got your own room. But it gives you a chance to chat with the others as you unpack. 

Milo explains the air isn’t breathable, so he’ll need to double check to make sure everyone’s filters are running at capacity. But he reassures you that it’s a comfortable temperature, so it’s good to know you won’t be sweltering in your suits or freezing your asses off. 

You pick the bed on the wall beside the door, taking out a few essentials from your pack and tucking the rest safely away in the storage compartment. Just as he did back at the docks, Ezra is the last to find his way to the room. He settles his things on the bunk opposite yours because the universe has it out for you, apparently. 

“Did I hear one of them call you the danger mouse?” 

You struggle not to roll your eyes at the nickname awarded to anyone stupid enough to do your job, although admittedly he doesn’t sound like he knows why. You offer him your name instead and pretend the way he rolls it around in his mouth doesn’t send a shock right down to your bones. You’re not in the habit of sleeping with colleagues, not until the job’s over at least. But you’d be lying if you said you’re not tempted.

“They call me in when a site’s unstable but too profitable to close.” You answer, tugging your sleeves up as the climate control settles to a comfortable temperature.

Ezra raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, and you pull off your gloves. They land on your thin mattress as you hold your hands out between you. Not even the slightest twitch.

“Steadiest hands on the Pug.”

“So they are.” There’s a challenge in his voice that threatens to send a shiver up your spine. It’s clear he doesn’t doubt your skill in the field, but the return of that glint in his eye from the docks has you wondering exactly what else he’s thinking about as he studies your hands. It’s not hard to work out.

It’s been so long since you had to travel out of the system, you forgot how much inter-system lanes can fuck with the human brain. You’re half asleep for the thirty minutes you spend sorting your things for the morning, barely enough energy to change into the sweatpants and ratty t-shirt you call pyjamas, before you crawl into bed and settle down almost immediately.

Only you don’t get to sleep for as long as you’d like. The rest of the crew seem to have filtered in after you, the shift of sheets and snores float through the dimmed room. Except, it’s not just that. There’s shuffling and bed creaking from further down the line of bunks. A hushed giggle sounds in the silence and-

 Oh god. Oh no.

They’re not. They can’t be, they- they are. 

You’re very awake all of a sudden, eyes wide as you keep them firmly on the ceiling and wishing as hard as you can for an alarm to start beeping or something. Anything to get whoever’s banging Summer to stop. A deep voice hushes her when she laughs again. Iras. Knowing is somehow worse. The mechanics- you don’t even want to think about it. 

You turn onto your side slowly, but loud enough to hint that maybe they should find somewhere else for their escapades, and fold your pillow around your head as a kind of makeshift set of earmuffs. Whether they’ve quieted down or it muffles the noise, you’re not sure, but it seems to have worked enough. You catch Ezra’s eye in the almost-darkness, much in the same position as he holds his pillow over his own ears. 

It’s embarrassing for the both of you, even as you share a conspiratorial look. But somehow, it’s less awkward to have to hear Iras and Summer going at it when you know he’s awake. He winces when a particularly loud squeak echoes through the room, and it takes everything in you not to bust out laughing. You fall asleep again eventually, making faces at Ezra in the dark until neither of you can keep your eyes open anymore.

You’re surprisingly well rested come the morning, when the whole ship jolts as it punches into the system and you’re almost thrown out of bed. So much so that it’s easy to forget that you woke up at all until you shuffle into the main living compartment of the ship. One of the crates by the wall has been cracked open, Milo hands out granola bars for breakfast.

Summer and Iras are sitting in the same chair, feeding each other, and it might be cute if you’d been awake longer and hadn’t been woken up by their activities in the middle of the night. You slump into a free chair,  face twisted in disgust for a moment. You’re pretty sure nobody else sees until Ezra laughs and drops into the seat beside you. They’re nice people, from how they took you as a friend immediately, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s just a bit much for your perpetually single heart to take. 

��It’s a week-long job, they can’t take a break?” You watch as they finally pry themselves apart to start, you know, actually working. But not without a genuinely gross kiss that definitely toes the line of public decency. Suddenly the half-eaten bar in your hand isn’t all that appealing anymore.

“Soulmates take no breaks, Sunspot. I’m sure yours would be hard pressed to be anywhere but in bed with you whenever they get the chance.” Ezra winks and it takes you a moment to remember where you are. A glance at the pair makes your new knowledge obvious, the way they seem to be touching, even now, on opposite sides of the room. 

“I’m not sure I believe in all that red string stuff.”

Once the ship is safely landed a short walk from the site, the days you spend digging pass with ease. The deposit is a decent size, it takes all five of you to cover it completely, and the payout should be enough to keep you all comfortable for a little while even with the agency’s cut. The crew around you fill the time enough that you barely notice the week coming to a close. 

Summer sings in the mornings as she cleans her equipment and readies her pack for the day. Miles talks gently to the cells as though they can hear him, shushing them any time he worries a gem might corrupt. Iras seems to have a secret superpower when it comes to the ration packs, they always taste better when he’s the one on lunch duty. And Ezra spends the afternoons regaling you all with tales of ancient beasts, laying eggs that fossilise into the very gems you’re harvesting. Although you’re not sure how true they are. 

You almost get through the whole dig without a hitch. Almost. But aurelac is a tricky thing, even a change in the wind can turn a site for the worst. You’re all sitting around at lunch when it happens. The telltale smoke wafts up into the air for no visible reason at all and although you’ve collected enough to cover the quota, you’d still rather not lose viable gems.

“Get to what you came here for.” Iras gestures in your direction and you dive into the pit head first.

You’re not even sure you stop to think as you follow the harvesting steps at lightning speed, salvaging half the corrupted cells before someone tugs you out by the collar of your suit. The rest of the site starts to smoke the moment you’re out of range, spitting and hissing and rendering the rest of the gems worthless. 

“Danger mouse indeed.” Ezra chuckles over the comm system, hand still fisted in the fabric of your suit. For once, the nickname makes you smile.

While you all go your separate ways after the ship has docked back on the Pug, Summer makes you all promise to meet later at a club you’ve only heard of in your friends’ messy night out stories. Still, you pinky swear when she holds her hand out to you and try to remember if you have a single item in your wardrobe that’ll pass as club attire. Or at least something that isn’t so worn there are holes in it. 

Even if it’s a song he knows, there’s no chance that Ezra could recognise it with the volume cranked so high through the cheap speaker that everything but the beat is distorted. Still, it doesn’t stop people from dancing. 

He’s a little late, as usual, but he doesn’t need to worry as Iras appears behind him and claps a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a booth across the room where Milo is looking increasingly uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Ezra to spot you and Summer in the middle of the dance floor, as he follows Iras around the edge of the space to the booth Milo’s claimed. You’re both more jumping than dancing, yelling the unintelligible lyrics of the song into each other's faces. He can’t hear your breathless laughter as Summer spins you in a circle, smile wide and bright, but he can feel it in his ribs. The drums of the song kick in at the same time the swirling lights of the club light you up like some kind of celestial being, just as you catch his eye through the crowd. And everyone else disappears. The rest of the world, rest of the universe, fades into the background. Just like they did the first time he saw you, glaring suspiciously at the ship on the docks.

Summer’s dragging you back to the table when the song comes to a close, the both of you out of breath and laughing, and Ezra has to try desperately to remember how to speak when he watches a little bead of sweat slide down the side of your neck. And stop himself from just licking a line straight up it. His silent suffering only increases when Milo holds out a shot of the most potent alcohol the Pug has to offer and you down it without so much as a flinch, winking at him when you return the glass to the table for good measure. 

Milo calls it a night only an hour later, clearly only having braved the crowds of the club to celebrate the job. Summer and Iras are tangled in each other on the dancefloor, or the booth, as they keep the shots coming. You, at least, decide to keep your wits about you, declining every drink after the one Milo had handed you. Nobody’s going to fuck with a Thanne, even in as seedy a club as this, so you don’t worry about Summer as she gets sloppier and sloppier. But there’s no spiky non-human boyfriend looking out for you down here, it’s just you and the knife you keep at your hip.

You pull yourself from the dance floor, eyes tracking the room for the missing member of your party, until you feel a set of eyes on you from above. Ezra’s leaning on the bannister of the stairs, his unflinching gaze set solely on you. And you can’t help but smile. You follow him up to the mezzanine without hesitation when he glances upwards and back to you. The buzz of the shot has mostly faded from your veins, replaced by something much more dangerous by the way he’s looking at you. The way he’s looked at you since you met him.

It’s not hard to spot your friends from up here, leaning over the barrier with Ezra to people watch. He crafts stories about every stranger who catches his eye. The man hunched over the bar in a beaten up jacket, the waitress who fiddles with her necklace any time her hands aren’t occupied, the pair of lovers tucked away in the dark corner on the other side of the mezzanine. You find yourself sliding closer to him the more he talks, wrapped up in the warmth of his voice even in the rundown club. Your shoulder knocks into his as you mindlessly bop to the music and listen to his made up stories. Utterly enchanted. It’s hard to remember a time when you felt this way with anybody, if you ever did at all. To tell the truth, it’s hard to remember anyone before Ezra. And neither of you have even made a move yet.

He's got his arms braced on the barrier, and you find yourself lifting the one closest to you so you can slip in between them. Surrounded on all sides and you couldn’t feel more comfortable. To his credit, he doesn’t falter in his vivid storytelling about the group now settled in the booth your crew had claimed earlier, not even a stutter as you turn in his arms to face him. He’s decided they’re here to celebrate the beginning of a new job, rather than a successful harvest. His eyes flick to you for the barest moment, enough to notice yours are firmly focused on the way his lips move around his words, before searching the club below for another story. Another way to keep his mind and mouth occupied so he doesn’t accidentally admit all the sinful things he wants to do to you when you press your ass up against him like that. 

“Ezra.”

He shouldn’t be able to hear you over the music, but you’re nose to nose and he’d be hard pressed to ignore the way you practically purr his name. He’s expecting you to make another flirty comment in that voice that sends his mind reeling into all manner of indecent places the same way you have been all night.

“Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t expect you to just outright ask him. 

“Yeah.” Yeah. Hell of a time for his eloquence to fail, not that it matters anyway. You’re on him the moment he stops speaking.

It’s like the sun explodes inside him, the way his stomach bottoms out the second your lips touch his. There’s nothing soft about it, not the way he might have imagined there would be. If he’d been so bold as to let himself imagine what kissing you might be like. You’re all warmth and heat and you still taste a little bit like the shot you’d thrown back earlier, and he finds himself falling. Not that Ezra minds, he hopes his parachute never opens if it means you’ll keep kissing him like this. 

You let your fingers roam under his jacket, twist themselves in the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and you sigh into his mouth. God, you knew he’d be good at this. His hands leave a trail of starlight as they trace over your body, never quite choosing a place to rest. They start to settle on your shoulders, only to skim down your arms and squeeze harshly on your waist, to play along the strip of skin he finds just underneath the hem of your shirt, to grip harder than he might mean to onto the meat of your ass through your pants. You gasp, break the kiss for barely a moment, and stop his apology in its tracks. 

He doesn’t protest when you walk him backwards, still groping at each other like it’s just the two of you in the whole club. Ezra only groans when his back hits the wall and you push even closer into him, as if there was even any space left for air between your bodies already. He’s not about to complain. He could kiss you for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t be enough. It’’ll never be enough, not for a soul as hungry as his. You pull back too soon, far too soon, and it takes a solid minute for his brain to kick in and break the vice grip he still has a little too low for the public eye.

Oh, that look on your face. He’s in trouble.

“Where are you off to?” Ezra asks, flushed and breathless, a hand stretched halfway out to where you’re backing toward the stairs.

“Home,” You say with a sly smile, “You coming?”

He can’t push off the wall fast enough. 

You don’t live far from the club, a ten minute walk at the most, but Ezra manages to make it a solid twenty with the way he keeps pulling you to him. Not that you’re about to complain. You’ve been waiting a week to let him get his hands on you. At the press of his lips on your neck, the shudder it sends down your spine, you wonder if part of you has been waiting even longer than that. 

You’re trying, desperately, to type in the keycode to your apartment. If Ezra could calm down with the grabby hands, you might have gotten it right straight away. 

“No roommates?” He asks, kissing along your shoulder, and you take the temporary reprieve to kick your brain into gear and remember the fucking numbers. 

“Hugo won’t be too upset if I make him sleep on the couch.” 

The door slides back into the wall to reveal a dark apartment, a strip of light from the hall falling on a very orange cat. He stares at you for a second, clearly not particularly pleased that he’s been so rudely roused from a nap, before he settles back to sleep stretched out on the couch cushions. Hugo. Ezra is silently relieved that the roommate is just a cat, he’s not sure he’s got the self control to stay quiet tonight. Or to make sure you do. 

You waste no time once you gesture for Ezra to walk in ahead of you, flicking the switch on the wall to slide the door shut and pulling him back to your lips. He doesn’t hesitate to crowd you up against the cold metal. 

Although you could devour each other until the closest sun explodes and swallows the station whole, Ezra has to break away. To think, to breathe, to tease you a little about the moan he just swallowed from you. But you beat him to it.

“Gotta catch your breath?” The smile on your face threatens to make his knees buckle, and with you pressed up against the closed door the way you are? He might just let them. 

“What do you want, Sunspot?” 

You left a lamp on in your bedroom, the door cracked just enough to let a little filter through to the main living space. Still, he’s almost completely silhouetted against the warm yellow glow. As if he’s some kind of ethereal being, maybe he is.

“Make me see the stars.” You pull him in as close as you can and let your lips brush over his as you whisper. His next words make you shudder almost as much as the way he drags the zipper of your jacket down, slowly, tooth by tooth. 

“As you wish.” 

And boy, does he deliver.

You’re expecting things to feel more unfamiliar than they do, as you explore each other for the first time, but it’s like you’ve been here before. Once, twice, a hundred times before. Every move feels oddly choreographed. Ezra knows exactly how to take you apart and put you back together again, the way he pulls every twitch and moan out of you so expertly. You’re no different, as your fingers map the plains of his chest like it’s muscle memory. 

You shake it off, put the thoughts to the back of your mind. You’ve been around the block a little in your time on the Pug, it only makes sense that he has the same kind of experience. But shared experience or not, you can’t deny how much having him so close feels like a homecoming of sorts.

It’s the best sleep of your whole fucking life and, honestly, you’re not that surprised. Ezra makes a damn good pillow. Even if you both wake hours later into the day cycle than either of you normally would. Even if he’s more of a morning person than you are. It’s kind of nice, to sit still snuggled in your pile of blankets and watch him potter around your apartment as Hugo winds around his ankles like he’s been there for years. 

Your fridge, however, is heartbreakingly empty and renders his offer of making breakfast pointless. Instead, he pulls his shirt on and offers to take you to the best little diner he knows, tucked away in the heart of the marketplace. It’s a hard offer to turn down.

“What kind of gentleman would I be to have so much income at my disposal and not treat such a beauty as yourself to a good meal?” He winks as he flashes his credit chit at you as if you didn’t scan in for your paychecks at the same time. You laugh as you empty a food pouch into Hugo’s bowl, and tell him he better show you all the good breakfast spots. You shrug off his raised eyebrow and mutters of a ‘next time’. As if he didn’t already know.

Still, Ezra takes you by the hand the moment your apartment door secures itself shut behind you, leading you through the hall and out into the street, and you’ve never felt more wanted.

It’s like everything’s brighter, walking leisurely through the bustling market stalls with Ezra. The smells are stronger as spices in the air cling to your nose, the cacophony of vendors calling out almost sounds like music, and you start to laugh. Hand in his, in the middle of the maze of stalls full of food and tools and trinkets. As if it’s just the two of you in the whole universe. 

At least Ezra doesn’t look back at you like you’re crazy. He smiles too, just as big, and you feel bathed in warmth the same as when the sun comes out planetside.

You’re both still grinning when he leads you deeper through the market, down an alley and up a flight of stairs to an unassuming door.

“Is this where you murder me?” You joke just as the door opens to reveal a short older woman with an eyepatch, who pulls Ezra down into a tight hug as soon as he’s in arms reach. He introduces her as Merse, the woman who’s run the best diner no one’s ever heard of on the whole station. She slaps his arm for his cheek, but her grin grows twice as wide when she spots your intertwined hands. 

Ezra pulls you through the doorway after him as he follows Merse, chatting about how she always keeps the best table open just in case he brings a friend and you try not to smile too wide when she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He says something to you, but you’re too distracted by the view from the big windows. 

The far wall is completely glass, overlooking the main docks, lined with booths. A small family sits in one of them, their two children standing up on the seats to watch the ships come and go. You’ve never seen it from this angle before, always down in the masses and scanning the boards for new jobs. It’s kind of beautiful. In a rusty, patchwork sort of way.

Merse points you towards one of the booths with a promise that she’ll bring you the best breakfast you’ll ever have, something tells you she’s not lying. 

It’s not long after you slide into the booth that she comes marching out of the kitchen with two plates, wafting steam that makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble. Rice and vegetables and eggs and all sorts of things you’ve never even seen pile high, and you’d worry you wouldn’t be able to finish it all if you weren’t so hungry. 

“You know I won’t break, right?” You push your fork around in the remaining rice on your plate as you watch Ezra absorb your words. He thinks about it for a long moment, dark eyes over you before settling on your own.

“What’s this about?” He knows, you know he knows. More importantly, you know he’s going to make you say it. In the middle of the day cycle, in this family friendly diner. 

“Just,” You exhale sharply, “Making sure you’re aware.” Your body floods with a shyness that’s alien compared to the confidence you had last night and suddenly, your breakfast is the most interesting thing on the Pug. You can practically feel him smiling at you, but you don’t dare look up to meet it. 

He was right though, the food really is some of the best you’ve ever had.

It’s not until you’ve wandered back through the market, still hand in hand, and found your way back to your apartment that Ezra decides to bring it up. He may have been more than a little distracted last night, but he’s sure he spotted a set of old books sitting on a shelf above your couch. You freeze, ready to go on the defensive about how ink and paper will never be obsolete, until you realise he’s genuinely interested. He’s not judging you by any means. Something about the curiosity shining in his eyes makes your heart flutter more than you care to admit. 

He could watch you talk about your books all day, every day, for the rest of his life. How your eyes lit up when you recognised his interest, a paperback lover himself. You can’t seem to stop yourself as you dive into the intricate details of your favourite classics, two or three hundred year old texts that make you feel like you’ve lived a thousand different lives at once. He wants so badly for you to keep talking but the more impassioned you become, the more he wants to kiss you.

You trail off at some point, he loses track when you climb into his lap to point out notes you’ve made in margins and the books lie scattered on the couch beside you as you kiss him until neither of you can breathe. You’re still a little achy from last night, deep in your bones, and you hiss when his teeth scrape across your shoulder.

“Won’t break, is that right?” Ezra chuckles darkly and nips at your jaw, “Can I try?”

“Please.”

You wake at the creak of your bedroom door, sometime in the early hours. Hugo noses his way through the narrow gap and hops up onto the bed, curling up on the unclaimed pillow by your head. Ezra sleeps deeply, face buried in your neck, and you let the warmth of him wash over you. It ebbs and flows like a tide, that familiarity. The undeniable fact that something about this just feels right. You’ve known this man a week and yet you’re here wondering, as he rests in your arms, if he might want more than just this with you. 

Oh, but you are so afraid. Afraid to put a name to anything about him because what then? Will he tell you that you’re simply a placeholder in his life for something better, or that his heart might bleed through his skin when you’re apart? You’re not sure which is worse. Not that it matters, there is no word in any language that would be able to explain exactly how you feel about the man asleep in your arms. It’s enough, you think, to have him with you at all. In any capacity. Whatever pieces of his soul he bares as your breathing evens and his mind wanders. That is enough, and you will protect it with your life.

You have to part ways at some point, of course. Another week of rolling around in your bed sheets together, on the couch, on your pitiful kitchen counter, up against the wall, and Ezra gets a call from the agency. It’s a last minute job, the crew only need an extra set of hands to fit the safety standards, but it’s several systems out from the Pug. It’ll take him away for at least a month. You trail after him at the docks, with promises of messages in his absence and all manner of unsavoury activities on his return. It’s with a deep kiss and a wolf whistle from a couple of dock workers on their break, that you wish him luck. And ask him to hurry back.

Summer’s message surprises you when it dings through on your tablet. Some gajillionaire on Dallore T53 has found an aurelac deposit on the grounds of his new estate and wants it gone. She’s preoccupied, already out on another dig with Iras and a new crew. But it’s the kindness of her even thinking to offer it to you that makes your heart swell. It’s been a while since you’ve had real, honest to god, friends. 

You’d go in alone, normally, for something like this. But now? Now, you’re punching in Ezra’s comm pin before you can even really register what it is that you’re doing. He only got back a week ago, and you made him settle in back home before he could settle in yours. It’s not like the two of you would be doing any resting on his return to your apartment, exactly. The job was a pain, he’d told you, it ran months longer than anyone expected and you’re sure he’s still exhausted. He won’t agree, but you find you have to ask. Just in case.

“Sunspot?” He sounds happy, rested. And you breathe a sigh of relief, at least he can follow your orders when he wants to.

Hugo snakes around your ankles at the familiar voice, the same way he does any time the man himself walks through the door. If you didn’t know that the little orange devil’s alliances lie in who feeds him, you might think he loves him more than you. 

You explain about the job, make sure to stress that he doesn’t have to come. That you don’t even really need to take it if he’d rather you stay close by. Okay, you don’t say that out loud, but the smile you hear in his words through the speaker makes it known that he’s heard you. Loud and clear. 

It doesn’t matter in the end, not when he accepts before you even have a chance to give him any details. You don’t know why you were so worried he might say no.

“Any excuse to be warmed by your light, Sunspot.” Hugo brushes up against your leg at the same time Ezra’s voice practically drips through the speaker, smooth as honey.

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You choke on your breath and he laughs like you’ve told the funniest joke in the universe. He’ll kill you one of these days, you’re sure of it.

You charter the ship you usually take on private jobs, the space a little smaller than you remember with another person on board, but it’s not like either of you aren’t used to being in close quarters with each other by now. At least Ezra has the decency not to be mean about the beaten up exterior, she still flies true. He’d grinned at that, told you how a rough outside often means the opposite of the interior mechanics. The glint in his eye is enough to know he’s not just talking about the ship. 

At least the planet is in the same system as the Pug, so there’s no need to punch through to a lane. You fly in silence for a few hours, the familiar feel of the controls under your fingers as you guide it through the sky. Ezra’s eyes remain firmly on you although you pretend as though you don’t notice, and it takes him a moment to come back to the present when you ask him to flick a few switches and prepare to enter the atmosphere. 

The coordinates the client gave you to land are only a short walk from the house itself, a great stone castle-looking thing. It’s kind of ugly, the way the limestone juts out above the treeline. A big white block among the rich reds and oranges of the leaves. They grow that colour all year round, perpetually stuck in spring and summer. It must be nice to have the kind of money to find somewhere like that and decide you’ll build a house there. The air is breathable, and a quick look at the planet file proves it’s never too hot or too cold. A perfect place to build a house really. Although, if it were you making that kind of decision, you’d maybe go for a design that’s a little less cubist. 

The deposit isn’t huge, but it’ll be a good payout nonetheless providing the cells are all in good nick. You and Ezra wade through swathes of long grass and wildflowers until you find a spot to set up camp. At least you’re not stuck in bulky suits and having to lug around your equipment.

You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect dig if you’d tried. Each of the cells sit far enough away from each other that even if one were to fail, it wouldn’t corrupt a whole mess of the others. Although with both of your talents, it doesn’t surprise you when you collect every last crystal without a single misstep.

You’d told Ezra the profit would be split down the middle, equal pay for equal work. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding an extra gem into your pack to cover the ship charter. After all, you’re the one who was offered the job in the first place. He’s just following his heart, the one that walks around outside of his body and throws itself into deposits mid-corruption.

You hold one of the little gems aloft in the sunlight and watch as it sparkles.

“I used to think it was weird how rabid people go for these. But the more I dig the more I get it, isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

Ezra tilts his head like he’s studying the rock, but his dark eyes don’t leave yours.

“It’s a close second.”

Sap.

Night falls before either of you realise just how late it is, clearing out the last few cells of the deposit. It’s not worth going back to the Pug now, he reasons, and you find it hard to disagree. The ache of the few days you’ve spent digging has settled deep in your muscles, the thought of having to run through docking procedure when you’re so tired is enough to make you wince. 

You let him take you for all you’re worth under the watchful eye of the heavens, and find there’s more stars behind your eyelids than you could ever hope to see in the skies. It’s all you can do to cry out the name of the only god to ever make you feel this holy. Ezra. 

He wakes with the sun, the same way he always has on jobs, to find you curled so tightly against him that it bubbles up from his toes all the way to his throat and he finds his eyes threatening to spill over. Everything in the universe seems to slot so perfectly together when you’re like this. Ezra sighs, content to never let the moment end. You are so beautiful.

He shifts up onto his elbow a little, still cradling you against him, and lets his free hand trail softly over your face. Tracing the shell of your ear, the curve of your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose. The dawn’s sunlight breaks over the trees and filters through the fabric of the tent, bathing you in soft green light. He could stay here, holding you, until the universe implodes. Ezra doubts he’d notice such an insignificant thing with you beside him. 

But end it must, and he rouses you gently with soft whispers and kisses against your temple. You stretch in his arms, not unlike Hugo, and sigh as your joints pop and settle. Packing up happens slowly, moving around each other so naturally it’s as though you’ve done it a thousand times before. Every time Ezra passes, you drop a kiss wherever you can reach. His shoulder, the arm of his jacket, that little patch on his jaw. He pretends not to blush when you catch his hand and carefully press your lips to the little tattoo between his thumb and index finger, you pretend not to notice when he does.

You’ll be the death of him, he’s sure of it. The way you keep watching him out of the corner of your eye, the way your smile is so bright when he catches you that he can barely stand to look at it. With the tent and equipment packed up, his fingers itch to thread through your own as you start the walk back to the ship, there’s not a word in the universe strong enough to describe just how much he hates that both his and your hands are too full.

It’s odd, thinking about it. How you met by pure chance, hired by the agency just because you were on the same station at the same time. Would he have ever met you if you’d chosen a different career path, if he had? Maybe somewhere, centuries before or after this moment, where you’re meeting again. Different lives, different times, spanning across all of existence. Maybe, right here and now, you’re starting to feel the way he does about you. Just a little. Maybe he’ll get up the courage to ask what you think, how far you want to take things. He’d give himself to you in a heartbeat, without question. In a way, he already has.

Ezra can’t stop himself.

“What do you make of the red string of fate?”

“All you’ve seen of the universe and you still believe in soulmates?” 

“Maybe I’m more foolish that I made myself out to be.��� He shrugs, trying not to let his eyes fall to the little finger of his right hand. Trying not to clench his fist to show you exactly how much your disbelief affects him down to his bones, as though his soul itself is frowning. You’re smiling. Uncharacteristically quiet, but you seem appropriately pleased by his answer and stray a little further out into the long grass.

Curiosity gets the better of you.

“Can you see yours?” You have to call out across the gap you’ve unintentionally created, yellow stalks swishing in the breeze between you, and for a moment you’re not sure he heard.

Ezra looks at his right hand, at the thin red string tied neatly at the knuckle of his little finger, and follows the line as it threads through the grass to where it’s knotted at your left. 

“No.” 

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@bee-dameron @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @gotta-have-faye​ @freeshavocadoooo​ @darnitdraco​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @fire-is-catching-always

[hiccanna-tidbits]

*kicking at your door, smashing it* DING DONG

Hello! 🥰🌸

from "Questions You Should Be Able To Answer For Any OTP" 1,3,4,5,9 and 10 for moanida!😅💜 But you can answer all of them or only few of them is it's too much ahaha

Ily, take care!!

YEAH BOIIII

Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

I'm just imagining Moana being a barista at some hole-in-the-wall authentic Polynesian coffee place by the beach, and of course Merida because she damn well needs her caffeine in the morning or she'll pass out, and Rapunzel insists on starting these fucking Squad Beach Days early. Merida was honestly willing to take the first cup of coffee she could get when the gang first went into town, but uhhhhhh oh GOD that girl behind the counter is cute!!! Merida starts "ending up" in there quite a lot, although initially she can barely string a coherent sentence together in front of that cute barista and can't make eye contact for more than half a second. Extroverted as she can be, Merida dissolves into an absolute mess as soon as a pretty girl is involved XD

Merida also pretends to only like black coffee to make herself seem tough, but in reality she kind of hates it and prefers sugar-laden lattes and sweet teas. After a while, when she and Mo have established kind of a friendship, and Merida can have an conversation with Mo without imploding and making an idiot of herself, Mo notices Mer making a face every time she sips her Plain Black Coffee and kinda smirks and is like “You know, there’s no shame in adding sweeteners. I mean, for god’s sake, my favorite drink here is the blonde vanilla coconut latte, and I’m still pretty tough.” Merida is just like “OH THANK GOD” and finally admits that she’d much rather be ordering an Irish crème, toffee, buttered rum, cinnamon, or caramel latte. If the seasonal flavor selection offers any apple-accented or apple pie-esque lattes, Merida’s all about that shit, too! Probably the most “intense” drink Merida actually enjoys is a pretty spicy cinnamon latte. She ends up ordering this pretty frequently to impress Moana with her spice tolerance, even though she really doesn’t need to.

Also, in case there’s any question about it--yes, Moana absolutely memorizes Merida’s orders! Moana also memorizes what flavor syrups Merida seems to like best (i.e. spicy cinnamon, apple pie, caramel, toffee, butterscotch) and gives them extra shots of them in her drinks. When the manager complains about all of Merida’s favorite flavor syrups running out frequently, Moana is like “Oh nooooo, I have no idea why THAT could be! That’s terrible!”

Rivals to lovers AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

I love the idea of them having a super-petty sports rivalry in a modern AU! Merida strikes me as being competitive as hell, so I’m betting anything she’d be the one to take it way too seriously and get increasingly annoyed with Moana outdoing her, while Mo kind of gives in and indulges Mer but is also secretly amused and kind of flattered that Mer is like...that into their rivalry. Moana’s just like *Regina George voice* “Why are you so OBSESSED with me???”

Like maybe in a modern-day college AU, Merida has been the star of her college’s archery team basically since freshman year. She wins the championships!!! She gets the trophies!!! She’s very well-known within the tiny niche community that is college archery!!! Then, come junior year, this girl in Merida’s year who Merida’s never even SEEN before shows up out of nowhere and makes the cut for the team. She’s honestly way better than she has any right to be (like judging by how she is with that harpoon gun, Moana’s aim is pretty damn good) and is constantly stealing the spotlight, and Merida is a very angry lass. Like it seems like no matter what she does, Moana can always one-up her, and Merida wants to tear her hair out in frustration. Doesn’t help that every time Moana does ridiculously good on a drill and gets 7 bullseyes in a row or some shit, she’s insufferably smug and cocky about it. Merida very-nearly throws a fit every time Mo outdoes her, and Moana honestly finds the whole thing pretty amusing. She’s sort of flattered that apparently only she can get such dramatic reactions out of Mer, and that just tempts her to push Mer’s buttons all the more.

Then, come the annual Big Archery Tournament Finals! As usual, Merida’s college’s team wins--although this time, it’s through a combination of Merida’s and Moana’s skills rather than just Merida kicking archery ass for like 2 hours straight. On the individual evaluations, Moana scores higher than Merida, but only by a little bit. Merida is, of course, extremely salty, but she’s also grudgingly grateful that Moana being there was able to give their team a definitive edge in the competition.

Afterwards, the team goes out for celebratory drinks. After probably 3 drinks too many, Moana finally works up the courage to try and actually like...have a straight conversation with Merida for once, instead of just communicating with passive-aggressive show-offery. She wanders over, sits next to Mer at the bar, and half-slurredly asks if she can declare a truce just for one night, in honor of their kind-of-teamwork winning the tournament. Merida is also a few drinks in, so she’s just like “sure, fuck it, maybe yer not so bad after all. Now prove to me you’re not a pain in the arse!”

They chat for a while, and it turns out Moana is actually pretty easygoing and fun to talk to when she’s not mega-flexing with her archery skills. After a few more drinks, Moana is like “...can I tell you something?” and Merida’s like “why not?”

And then Moana just goes bright red and looks away and admits that the whole reason she got into archery and boosted up her skills enough to join the team in the first place was because she saw Merida making like 50 bullseyes at the previous year’s tournament, and developed a huge crush on her--to the point where she did all this extra-ass shit just so she could join the archery team and get to know Merida better. Also, every instance of Moana acting smug and cocky after acing a drill or perfectly hitting a target? It was honestly because she was trying to impress and show off to Merida, and also because she’s awkward as hell and has no idea how to actually flirt without being joke-mean and joke-cocky. Merida, a much more emotional drunk than she will ever admit, starts crying and gets super apologetic, because oh god, she was being so mean and rude to this girl who only ever thought she was cool and wanted to impress her from the jump??? How COULD she??? Moana lowkey loses her shit laughing because how mad Merida got at being upstaged was honestly kind of hilarious, and she was actually really flattered that Merida was, again, that obsessed with their rivalry. It made Moana feel weirdly special that only she could get to Merida that much, and she honestly liked the attention, even if it...wasn’t the most positive XD And Merida starts laughing, too, because she’ll admit that in hindsight, this whole thing feels a little ridiculous, and extracurricular college archery really isn’t that big of a deal.

Finally, Merida just rolls her eyes and says “C’mere, yeh bloody show-off yeh” and grabs Moana by the front of her archery uniform and smooches her!!! The entire archery team hoots and hollers because OH SHIT, DAT GAY!!! Merida holds out her other hand and flips the entire team off, which honestly just makes them cheer more.

Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

Depends a lot on the conflict, I think! Maybe a war breaks out in an AU where someone other than Moana is chosen to return the Heart of Te Fiti--I’m gonna say Tui, for irony’s sake! Moana and Sina take over as co-chiefs while he’s gone, but he takes significantly longer than Moana did in the quest, so Moana’s tribe is eventually forced to flee Motunui to find new fishing grounds before their island is overtaken by darkness. The people of Motunui sail across the world, trying to find a new place to call home. Unfortunately, every time they find a habitable place, it’s already occupied, and the people who live there are uninterested in sharing their already-scarce food.

Eventually they stumble upon Dunbroch, far enough away from Motunui that the seas aren’t affected by the spreading darkness, and fish are plentiful. Naturally, Moana’s tribe sets up a camp on the shores and starts catching as many fish as they can, hoping they’ve finally found a place where they can have enough to eat again. Unfortunately Fergus and Elinor aren’t too crazy about this, and are like “yo, these oceans and these fish and other game belong to the people of Dunbroch and you gotta leave” and Sina and Moana are like “Pls we don’t have any place to go and we’ve been barely eating for a long-ass time, can’t you spare some food?” and Fergus and Elinor are like “sorry bro, it’s almost winter and we have our own entire kingdom to look after, we don’t need more mouths to feed. You gotta be on your way or shit’s gonna get real.”

So Moana thinks this sounds sketch as fuck because like...there’s an entire forest full of deer, rabbits, and other game, and they have NO food they can spare??? That night, Sina sends Moana to spy on the kingdom, since she can be pretty sneaky when she wants. Moana manages to climb the castle battlements and watch through a window, and she sees a bunch of people enjoying a massive feast in a huge dining hall. Her eyes are particularly drawn to a girl about her age with a head full of bright, fiery curls, wearing a nice dark green dress and gorging herself on pastries adorned with white icing and raspberries.

Moana heads back and tells Sina “actually it looks like these assholes have PLENTY of food to spare, and they just want to keep it all for themselves” and Sina is like “well shit...why don’t we raid their food store, then??? They’ve gotta have one somewhere!” And so the Motunui village storms Castle Dunbroch at dawn, catching them almost completely by surprise.

The first thing Moana does is seek out the redheaded pastry girl, whom she’s developed a particular disdain for. When she rushes her, she’s surprised that the ginger girl whips around and immediately sends an arrow sailing into her shoulder. When Moana gets close, the redheaded girl pulls out a sword. Moana takes out a long, sharpened wooden spear made from a particularly tough oar.

She turns out to be much more competent than Moana expected, especially for someone who was shamelessly shoving sweets into her mouth not 7 hours earlier.

They go toe to toe Raya-and-Namaari style, and the redheaded girl admittedly gives Moana a run for her money. The longer the battle goes on, the more Moana’s rage grows. She taunts the redheaded girl the entire time, calling her a spoiled, selfish brat who’d rather gorge herself with all the sugar in the world than share even one grain of it. Merida, who hasn’t exactly heard good things about these people from her parents, is just like “well, you’re no better, showing up and thinking you can just steal what belongs to Dunbroch and we won’t put up a fight!”

And thus the war begins. Motunui is never quite strong enough to get through the guards and raid the food stores, and Dunbroch is never quite strong enough to fully drive Motunui out of the kingdom. Fergus and Moana are both far too stubborn to surrender (despite the fact that Sina is kind of ready to), and so the battles continue. Casualties start to pile up. Dunbroch seeks help from the other clans, but they refuse--they did not take their leaders’ sons being scorned by the Dunbroch princess lightly.

Over and over, Moana can’t help but be drawn to the redheaded girl. She realizes after a few battles that this girl isn’t just anymore, but the Dunbroch princess--her resemblance to the king and his protectiveness over her can’t be a coincidence. It only makes Moana hate her more--but time and time again, she isn’t able to get the better of the princess. Moana can fight hard, and she can be vicious--but so, she’s discovering, can the Dunbroch girl. The princess is clever and cunning, and underestimating her has almost gotten Moana a blade in the throat one too many times.

Merida would be the one to change sides eventually, I think (wooo! Finally got to the actual question!). Once she finds out her parents didn’t tell her the whole truth about their first meeting with the Motunui village and sorta fudged what happened, Merida is livid that they turned away people who needed help. She said if she had known there were people who were tired and hungry and just needed a place to rest, she would have gladly given up some of her own meals for them! To prove this, she gathers up her dinner--plus some apples and some pastries she was going to have for dessert--and puts it in a basket, taking it to the Motunui camp as a peace offering. Moana ambushes her and very nearly slices the basket in half, if only because Moana was convinced it was filled with venemous snakes. After some bickering, Moana finally snatches the food away and, after testing it to make sure it wasn’t poisoned, brings it to Sina.

Unfortunately, one basket of food isn’t enough to feed the village, and the fighting continues. Merida tries to convince her parents to share their food stores with Motunui, but they still refuse, saying they need those stores for their own people and the Motunui people killed any chance of goodwill they might get when they attacked. Determined not to see people starve, Merida starts stealing from the reserve herself and sneaking the food out to the Motunui camp. Moana is feeling a lot more kindly towards Merida at this point, and feels a little bad about being so quick to judge her initially.

Eventually, Fergus and Elinor notice the food in the stores going missing, and figure some of the Motunui villagers must be running stealth operations to sneak in and get it. Dunbroch launches a full-scale attack on Montunui--while Merida is at their camp sneaking them food, in fact. Fergus makes a beeline for Moana. Word has gotten out by now of the times she managed to spy on the castle, so her sneakiness is well-known--and Fergus is all but certain she’s the thief. He charges at her with his sword, aimed to kill, when his own daughter steps in the way.

He barely manages to stop himself, but he does just in time. Merida admits she was stealing the food the whole time, and she can’t let Fergus hurt Moana. Fergus demands to know why, and Merida tearfully admits “Because I love her!”

Fergus, in a rage, takes out his sword again and charges Merida. Swords clash between father and daughter, and Merida looks like she’s just about to be overpowered. Moana can see the fear and betrayal in her eyes, appalled that her father would actually contemplate hurting her.

Not wanting to see whether he actually would, Moana steps in and helps Merida to fend Fergus off. “Enough!” she screams. “How can you live with yourself? My father risked his life to try to save his daughter and his people--and you’re willing to fight yours because she doesn’t agree with all this senseless violence?! You make me sick! I’m standing with Merida, because...because I love her too. I’ll leave if you want, but I want this to end.”

This finally snaps Fergus out of it, and he and Elinor decide that maybe the fighting has gone on long enough--and maybe it’s not worth it anymore, if it’s pitting them against their own daughter now. They end up trying to work out something with Motunui. Establishing a peace treaty and figuring out how to proceed forward is a long and messy process, but everyone is willing to put in the work--for the sake of Merida and Moana, if for nothing else.

Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

Neither of them want to meet their soulmate XD Merida has just been repulsed by the idea of marriage and commitment since she was young, mainly because she can’t not see it as just a means of taking her freedom away and making her be subservient to someone. Besides, given the, um...heteronormative culture of Dunbroch and all, she assumes she’ll get not just stuck with, but cosmically bound to a man and that idea just...doesn’t do anything but fill her with unadulterated disgust XD Like please no, she’s perfectly happy to go where she pleases when she pleases with no one but Angus for company. The last thing she needs is some stuck-up, snot-nosed boy telling her what she can and can’t do.

Moana has similar concerns, although maybe a bit less extreme. She’s mainly worried that when she meets her soulmate and, as per expectation, marries them, she’ll be expected to “mature” into a full adult and fully embrace her responsibilities as chief, leaving behind her childhood dreams of exploring the ocean. Same as Merida, she’s worried the person she’s destined for will tie her down and prevent her from exploring and going on the adventures she craves so badly. She’s also, like Merida, worried she’ll get stuck with some lame, boring dude who she’ll be destined for because...he loves her!!! And will be really nice to her!!! But will not stimulate or interest her in any way whatsoever!!! And Moana is pretty uninterested in romance and dating regardless, so the idea of any kind of romantic partner who she’d hypothetically have to run crazy ideas by before just doing them doesn’t sound too appealing to her. Like, she’s happy where she is and having her friends and family for company, what does she need an SO for??? It just feels like the whole “soulmate” business is just the universe attempting to give her a babysitter, and Moana ain’t about that. She can do things on her own, dammit!!! And what makes the great elder love gods think she wants another person to keep track of on her escapades, anyways?!? It’s enough effort keeping herself safe without worrying about someone else!

Imagine their shocked delight when each finds out their soulmate is a) a girl and b) a girl arguably just as chaotic, adventurous, and rebellious as they are!!! They meet and they’re like “huh...maybe the universe wasn’t being some big dumb fucking idiot binding us together after all. I can work with this!!!”

Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Merida is the pirate! Or at least...the one who becomes a pirate first! XD Maybe to escape her betrothal she steals a ship and flees Dunbroch, and BOOM trouble on the High Seas time!!! Eventually she sails to the south Pacific on her naval escapades, and stumbles on Motunui. When she finds out Moana is a chief’s daughter, she naturally kidnaps her and holds her for ransom--because screw it, she hasn’t successfully pillaged any merchant ships recently and she needs some cash. But instead of being like “Noooo take me home!” Moana is like “Actually this fucks, I’ve always wanted to sail the ocean anyways and my dad wouldn’t let me before, so you’ve accidentally given me an avenue to achieve my dreams!!! Thank you!!!” And Merida realizes that a first mate would actually be a lot more useful in the long run than a handful of hostage money, so she just kind of shrugs like “aight, yer on the crew.”

Merida is a bit salty because Moana takes to the pirate lifestyle excellently--so much so that before long, she’s arguably a better pirate than Merida XD While Merida is a bit cranky about being outdone in the art of piracy, she also can’t help but admire Moana’s natural aptitude for sailing and propensity for mischief on the High Seas!!!

Their ship is called “The Arrow,” and Merida definitely uses her bow during pirate-to-pirate combat! She teaches Moana how to shoot a bow, but discovers Mo is pretty nifty with a harpoon gun as well!

Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

Oooooh, this is a fun one!!! Admittedly I don’t usually think about these girls in a Childhood Friends to Lovers AU (very possibly due to...geographical constraints lol) so this’ll be a cool thought experiment!

SO in order to fix my unfortunate geographical constraints, I’m gonna say that this is an AU where the people of Motunui were wayfinders from the jump, and while voyaging (admittedly a LONG way), they stumbled upon Dunbroch. Moana’s parents and Merida’s parents immediately hit it off, and established a political alliance of sorts.

Moana, meanwhile, pulled the classic “little girl on vacation/at an event immediately seeks out other little girl and becomes best friends with her.” Moana and Merida naturally also hit it off immediately, and are both pretty bummed out when Tui and Sina want to leave and continue voyaging and such. However, they make plans to visit as frequently as they can and Merida and Moana are super hyped about this! They both always get extremely excited for said visits, and Little Moana nearly falls off the front of her family’s boat several times because she’s leaning over so far and squinting so hard to try and see Dunbroch.

I love the idea that Moana was the one who was totally smitten from the jump, to the point where it took her years to realize she was aspec because she was like “Of course I can fall in love!!! I’m in love with Merida!!!” She just didn’t realize most people have romantic inclinations toward more than one person over the course of their lives XD

It absolutely does not help that Merida is extremely romance-repulsed when they’re kids--mainly because she associates romance in general with being docile and acting stupid to impress some annoying macho guy, and that thought kinda makes her want to puke. That, and given how, er...heteronormative things are in Dunbroch, it doesn’t reall occur to her that romancing girls is like...an option. So poor Moana has always kind of resigned herself to thinking she has no chance with Merida, and keeps her feelings under pretty tight lock since she doesn’t want to ruin their close friendship and all and she doubts Merida even swings that way.

THEN when they’re in their early teens, Merida is like “hmmm...I wonder what it would be like to kiss Moana?” but then IMMEDIATELY feels weird for thinking that and tells absolutely no one. She’s definitely starting to feel something a little different than just platonic friendship though, and of course she’s also convinced Moana only sees her as a friend and probably doesn’t like girls.

Then one day they’re wrestling around out in the woods, like they have since they were little, and at one point Merida leans down and just impulsively kisses Moana. She’s super flustered and apologetic afterwards, but Moana just stares in shock before being like “holy shit, I never thought you’d actually want me too. Holy shit!!!!” After that, they start secret-dating and everyone around just thinks they’re still “very good friends” XD

When Merida turns 16 and gets the news of her betrothal, she’s devastated. It takes her several days to process her emotions, and several times she tries to protest to her mother, but Elinor steamrolls her and talks over her at every turn. Finally, when Merida can get a word in edgewise, she tearfully bursts out that she can’t go through with this because she loves Moana. Elinor, traditionally-minded woman that she is, is horrified by this.

When Fergus finds out, he GOES OFF at Elinor and sticks up for Merida. He basically says that she’s their daughter and they should want her to be happy, and they should be happy for her that she did find someone she loves, even if it’s a bit...unconventional.

Later, at the betrothal ceremony, Merida picks an archery contest for the suitors with the hopes of cheating the system and winning her own hand. Imagine her surprise when Moana rushes in late with a makeshift bow on her hip, shouting “I am Moana of Motunui, and I’ll be shooting for the princess’s hand as well!”

Luckily, due to Moana’s years and years of informal archery training from Merida herself, the other suitors really don’t stand a chance.

It turns out that Elinor and Fergus set this whole thing up, deciding in the end that their daughter should at least be able to marry who she loves if she had to get looped into a political marriage. And honestly, they weren’t going to say no to a stronger alliance with Motunui at the end of the day. Merida is so pleasantly shocked by the whole thing that she forgets to be mad about the fact that she’s still being pressured into a marriage pretty young XD Luckily, Moana has no intention of trying to hold Merida back or take her freedom away! Their relationship really barely changes after they officially become wives, and they’re still just as in love as they’ve basically always been.

As for the issue of heirs, Elinor and Fergus just make Merida’s brothers the heirs of Dunbroch, and Tui and Sina are fine with Moana and Merida choosing an heir for Motunui who isn’t necessarily their biological child. Neither Moana nor Merida are crazy about the “leaders have to be from the chief/monarch’s bloodline” rule anyways, so they’re more than fine with this!

This is in reference to this post! Still answering these questions for Moanida and Hiccanna, if I haven’t done so already!

@takaraphoenix come get your daily dose of Moanida!

[myficdump]

Love Like You: Ch.1

Here it is! The Eddsworld fic I've been writing for 3 days :D. This is a platonic soulmates fic with soul marks and so far, the main focus is on platonic yandere Tord & Edd. This is going to be a multi-chapter fic and there won't be any ships. All pairings are platonic. I've yet to decide Tord's age, but I'm thinking maybe 26? Edd, Tom, and Matt are 17. Also, I have big events planned out but everything in between is vague so ideas are appreciated.

The title is from the su song Love Like You, but it might change as I figure things out and if I find something that fits better. I hope you guys like this! <3 <3 <3

_______________________________

The three marks practically covered his entire forearm. Although they were three different flowers, they just clicked. They fit so well that unless you were close up, it looked like one soul mark. Edd liked that. It perfectly described his relationship with his three friends. Or, soon to be three friends. He had hoped he’d find the third one soon. Two of the marks belonged to Tom and Matt, who he found when he was young. He felt so complete when he brushed against them on the school’s playground. It was as if they filled a gap in his soul that he never realized he was missing.

Edd’s third mark was a mix of black and red today. It was a stark contrast from the mix of light blue and yellow of Tom’s and Matt’s marks. Hesitantly, Edd brushed his fingers against the top mark and winced. A sharp jab of dull anger and agitation welled up into his chest. Ah, something had really set off his friend today. He moved his hand lower down his forearm to trace over Tom and Matt’s soul marks instead. A wave of calm and contentedness swept the echoes of the anger away and he pulled his hoodie sleeve down.

While he liked running his hand over his marks as he did his schoolwork, he didn’t want to continuously touch his top mark if his friend was having an awful day. It would affect his own mood. He worried that if he did, then his friend would touch their own mark and then both of them would stay in a vicious cycle of intense negative emotions. It was a real concern as it’s happened a few times before.

Edd often keeps his hand pressed against his top mark, basking in his friend’s good mood. Especially when he’s had a rough day at school. Of course, his friend took notice once as they pressed their hand against their mark and their emotions intensified. Slowly, his mood lifted and when he concentrated enough, he was able to send a “Hi!” with as much warmth as he could. No matter what soul mark a person had, they were always able to talk to their soulmate if both of them were touching the mark at the same time and concentrated hard enough. He didn’t do this much with Tom and Matt as he saw them practically every day and had their numbers, but it was rare he was able to talk to his friend.

It was also rare because his friend didn’t touch their mark at the same time as him often.

After sending his greeting, his top mark changed to a deep white mixed with dark pink. Edd had laughed seeing that. It wasn’t often his friend was surprised. And seeing the affection mixed in made warmth fill his chest.

“Hello!” His friend sent back. “You sound young.”

Edd laughed. Of all the things his friend could have said, they had to comment on his voice. His friend didn’t sound bad themselves. Their voice was deep, with an accent he couldn’t place. Still, he wasn’t going to assume their gender. Only looking out for one type of person could cause him to miss who they were.

“No! I’ll be an adult soon,” He sent back, tongue sticking out in focus. “You have a… nice voice.!”

“Thank you. Listen, I have to go now. But I'll find you. I promise.” A tinge of regret passed through him, but they sent him another wave of affection through their mark.

Quickly, before they moved their hand, Edd sent, “I can’t wait to meet you!” along with his best attempt to project his own affection and happiness to them. He didn’t know if it worked, but their emotions dulled.

In hopes that they’d be able to do that again soon, he kept his hand pressed against his mark for ten more minutes until his mom called him downstairs for dinner.

So yeah, he wasn’t going to do that right now. At least, not until he checks later if his friend’s mood changes.

If that short conversation wasn’t proof enough, his friend was definitely older than him. Perhaps not old enough to be his third grandparent, but certainly older than him. Plus, he’s had that mark on his arm since he was born. All three of his marks were platonic soul marks, which were the flower type. Most often, these signaled platonic love. Edd took that to mean that all three of his soul marks were his best friends.

Romantic soul marks were often different, but as he and neither of his friends had one, he doesn’t know much about them since he never bothered to look into it.

Half of his childhood had been spent figuring out what his and his friends' marks were. After they learned how to read, they spent at least an hour inside the library searching for flowers that matched their marks. Finding them was difficult, but they were pretty sure his top marks were Heliotropes! And according to the flower guide they found, it meant eternal love/devotion. It was sweet and had him convinced that his friend would be his best friend.

The second mark on his arm, Tom’s, were Chrysanthemums. “You’re a wonderful friend,” the book had said it meant. His third and final mark, Matt, was Lisianthus. They represent appreciation/admiration for a friend, gratefulness, and charisma.

Unlike Edd, Tom and Matt only had two flower marks. Tom’s first mark, Edd, was Asters. It had meant a form of deep emotional love and affection, along with the message of “take care of yourself for me”. It was very fitting, A Hyacinth, Matt’s mark, was Tom’s last mark. Interestingly enough, under the picture of the flower, the book just said “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Other books just said they meant sorrow, regret, and forgiveness. Any time Edd asks about it, Tom clams up and asks him to leave it alone. Some things were just not meant to be shared.

Matt’s first mark, Edd, was Morning Glories. They meant affection and love. His second mark, Tom, was Daisy’s. While meaning loyal love and purity, there was also a deeper meaning of keeping a secret between friends. Again, there was a story there. Edd didn’t know what the secret could be, but based on his friends' reactions when he asked them, he left it alone.

Each of their marks was on their left forearms and except for Tom’s single Hyacinth, they were in bunches with multiples of the same flower.

Edd loved them, he really did. When he doubted his friendship with them, he’d look at his marks and remind himself that’s what they thought of him. It was just hard sometimes, to remember that he was loved. Sometimes he felt like an imposter, like he didn’t deserve their love. If asked why, he wouldn’t be able to put it into words. It was just how he felt at times.

Late at night when he wasn’t feeling too great, when stress just ate at him, he’d run his fingers over his arm, feeling his mark and whatever emotions his friend was feeling. He’d remind himself that if nothing else, the Heliotropes showed that his friend would always love him. Oftentimes, his friend was feeling content at night, and feeling that while stressed really helped him calm down.

Though on rare nights, his friend fed into his stress, morphing his feelings into a wave of intense anger as he rubbed his mark. He hated those nights but could never bring himself to move his hand away from his mark.

Edd sighed and put his pencil down. He didn’t feel like finishing his schoolwork anymore. Maybe Tom and Matt could come over and play games with him?

* * * * *

Meanwhile, in another country, Tord was pacing back and forth in his office. “Fucking incompetent, pieces of shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “They had one job! One easy, little job and still they fucked it up!”

He ran a shaky hand through his hair. As the job truly was an easy one, how this happened, Tord didn’t have a clue. All those two idiots had to do was go into the government building, collect the information from the mole he planted there, and bring it back. That was it! Tord could’ve done it himself if he wasn’t so busy. And yet, the two morons were still caught, very nearly giving away the identity of his mole.

He wished he could bring the two back and torture them for this. But alas, they were already dead. Tord couldn’t afford either of them giving up any information on his army so he had them exterminated before they could be questioned. It didn’t stop him from wanting to smash something.

A knock on his door caused Tord to pause. As he took a deep breath, he stuck two fingers into the sleeve of his left arm to briefly trace his mark. He couldn’t see the color, but a cool flow of calmness and excitement pricked his rage. It was enough to stop him from shouting.

“You may enter.”

Paul entered the room, which wasn’t a surprise. He was one of the few who weren’t scared shitless to bother him when he was in a rage.

“You’re going on a vacation.”

“Excuse me,” Tord said flatly, a scowl on his face.

Paul continued on as if he wasn’t in danger of being shot in the foot. Well, to be fair, he wasn’t. Tord would never get rid of one of the more competent people in his army and Paul fully knew it. “With all due respect, don’t even try to argue with me. I could practically hear you grinding your teeth from outside the door and you’re going to wear a hole in your carpet. At this point, if you don’t rest, you’re going to give yourself stress ulcers.”

Closing his eyes, Tord took another deep breath and counted to ten. For good measure, he shoved his fingers into his sleeve again to press against his mark. The calmness and excitement soothed his rage as he said with an even voice, “And who else agrees with you?”

“The only name I’ll give up is Pat. I’m not stupid enough to think you won’t take your anger out at anyone else. Get ready, the plane leaves tonight.”

“You really aren’t going to give me enough time to sort anything out?”

Paul shot him an annoyed look. “No, because knowing you, you’ll just get too sucked into your work and not pack. I’ll take care of anything urgent.” He saluted Tord before leaving.

Tord rubbed his temples as he muttered, “He didn’t even tell me where I was going.” He dropped into his seat and yanked his desk drawer open. Leaning back in his chair, he lit a cigar and planned countless scenarios of his “vacation”.

A small part of his mind hoped he could find the owner of his mark. They seemed so nice compared to him.

Knowledge of his leave was no doubt spreading through his base like a wildfire, so he had no doubt no one would bother him. His soul mark was safe from prying eyes, so he rolled up his sleeve and traced the outline of the Sunflowers. His face morphed from a scowl to a small smile. His beloved was still feeling calm and excited. He wondered what they were up to.

The Sunflowers lived up to their name as they truly did bring warmth to his life. They were supposed to mean adoration and loyalty. He hadn’t met them yet, but considering they were a kid, the sunflowers were fitting. It’d be even more apparent once he met them.

Tord’s smile dropped. He really wanted to find them, get to know them, and fill their bond. But what about his army? So many people wanted him dead and in no good conscience could he drag a kid into this mess. He never allowed anyone under eighteen to join and from the short talk he had with his beloved, they sounded too young to be eighteen. People could say what they wanted about him, but he refuses to have child soldiers.

If he found them, he’d have to bring them back here. Hiding them here was the only way he could keep them safe.

With that train of thought, Tord sat up. Already a plan was forming in his mind. Nothing could be concrete until he met them, but he’d have an empty room ready for him near his own. Just in case he found them on this trip. Chances were slim but he hated not being prepared.

With that in mind, he left his office to go pack. The thought of finding them made this trip a little more bearable.

[trials-by-blood]

Male with Gender Neutral S/O. S/O is protective over their Yautja. One day, on the mothership, a female gets interested in the male. S/O firmly shows the male is theirs. Male is very impressed by their antics. (If possible, make it naughty ish. Like pulling on Yautja tresses. I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. I don’t know what you’re rules are.)

Okay so, It’s done! Like another prompt, I decided I should consciously try to be concise and cap it off before going over 2500 words or else it could go on and on. Unfortunately, this couldn’t be naughty because I’ve made the decision to keep this blog at a PG-13 rating. I wound up RBing my original post (The one announcing open asks) with a loose outline of my rules after receiving this very ask. Yeah, I kinda had that “Uh-oh, I forgot the most important step” moment. 

This one sort of ran in a few unexpected and at times turbulent directions. I hope you enjoy this reply although it veered a little off course.

-Ghardeh-

The ooman was always a pain. Ghardeh called them H’ko. It was literally the word for no. Why did Ghardeh call the ooman this? Because it was the first word in Ghardeh’s language that they had learned and one they loved to use. No, no, no. “No” to proper clothing in the current yaut fashions, “No” to any food item they found suspicious, “No” to bathwater heated too hot, “No” to sleeping in the kehrite as unblooded should, “No” to observing Ghardeh’s hunts via a live stream transmitted from the eye lenses of his helm because they did not like the idea of possibly witnessing their companion’s death in real-time. A definite “NO” to learning to hunt as well. They didn’t have any interest in hunting to prove themselves. 

H’ko, H’ko, H’ko. Ghardeh had heard the word in that terrible accent so many times he’d begun mockingly repeating it back to the ooman out of frustration, eventually, it became their pet-name, and later it became a term of endearment. Ghardeh had long given up on the notion that H’ko would ever become a warrior, but that was fine, the ooman was proficient in mechanics and electrical work and it was a respectable profession for an ooman.

Bound for the Clan ship, Ghardeh did not worry much about the ooman’s safety. His clan worked with oomans regularly and in H’ko’s case, as they weren’t a warrior and wore typical ooman dressings, the people would regard them with the same scrutiny as the unblooded: well beneath the gaze of warriors. And yautja women? Well, they ignored their male counterparts ninety percent of the time too, doubtful they’d even register H’ko’s presence at all. Other yautja should simply pretend H’ko didn’t exist as they tagged along safe and sound under Ghardeh’s left arm, and if anyone spared them a second glance it would likely be assumed that H’ko’s role was that of a hired repairer and no more.

Ghardeh had prepped H’ko very sternly and more than once for this visit. Speak to no one above their rank. Do not make prolonged eye contact as it is seen as a challenge. The breeding season is near so if a female propositions, allow Ghardeh to decline and do not intercede. That last instruction was very important. 

Ghardeh had known that humans were often monogamous, and when asked H’ko confirmed that they would prefer not to share Ghardeh’s romantic attention with others. This was one of the many compromises in their unusual partnership. Ghardeh would sleep and engage in sex acts with H’ko and only H’ko, but they had agreed to allow Ghardeh to donate reproductive material non-sexually to females if it was asked of him. Ghardeh had to explain to the ooman: if you are a strong warrior and a fine hunter, it is your duty to contribute your traits to the next generation. They had accepted that aspect of yautja culture begrudgingly, taking a long time to think through and voice all concerns about it just as Ghardeh had done as well when it became apparent that his ooman companion did not enjoy the notion of their mate being dragged to a stranger’s bed chambers if a proposition was accepted. The ordeal of Yaut mating practices also seemed to upset them. A female will usually test a warrior to be absolutely certain that she’d chosen a sire well. This often involves dangerous feats or enduring a physical altercation. H’ko had been unhappy with the very common occurrence of males limping their way home after a failed encounter with a choosy woman.

Ghardeh was merely reviewing all of this information in his head whilst he lied on his back and massaged at the stress crease in his forehead with his knuckles. Tucked against his left side and in the crook of his arm was H’ko, snoring and blissfully unaware of Ghardeh’s anxiety. H’ko would be relatively safe for sure, but something always went wrong when he tried to bring them aboard the Clan Ship. Last time, H’ko accidentally got dragged off with another group of oomans after being mistaken for a member of an ambassadorial tour group. None of the actual ambassadors had the gall to inform their extraordinarily intimidating guide that H’ko was just some random person who was grabbed, scolded for wandering off -which they had, but not from that group-, and herded along with the rest of the soft little aliens. Ghardeh was tempted to tether H’ko to his own body this time, so they couldn’t move more than ten feet from him.

Ghardeh sat up and scrubbed a knuckle against his closed eyes as he prepared to leave the bed, then let a hand fall on H’ko’s shoulder to gently shake them awake. It was time to dress, eat, and prepare. 

Docking went smoothly, and disembarking was uneventful as well. They were greeted by Chulonte, a friend and hunt brother who knew H’ko well and even dipped his head slightly to acknowledge their presence.

“The meeting place has been reserved, we should go now, the others have already gathered,” Chulonte told them briskly before turning away and leading them on.

Ghardeh leaned toward H’ko and dropped a hand on their shoulder. “We’ll acquire a midday meal after the meeting, just the two of us.”

Ghardeh was pleased when H’ko gave him an earnest closed-mouth grin. H’ko liked when they ate alone yet in public. Called them “dates”. 

-Taylor-

Ghardeh was in the meeting with his equals, a loose coalition of hunters each with their own private hunting vessels who always coordinated with one another so that their time hunting on various worlds did not overlap. Apparently, there were laws in place to prevent over-hunting on some planets and to avoid over-exposure on others. Taylor was told to wait outside with Chulonte’s hounds. They were big ugly scaly beasts. One had a face like a cross between an English Bulldog and a cod, the other was nothing but a fangy maw of teeth and horny protuberances growing from its back but they were rather friendly, at least toward Taylor. Taylor wasn’t completely fluent in the Yautja dialects but it had seemed that, as a favor to Ghardeh, Chulonte had given his hunting hounds a command to guard the tiny human among them. The animals hovered close to where the human sat and would stand from their seated positions if any passerby veered too close. Taylor chanced a hand at petting them, Bulldog Face kept dropping his enormous head into the human’s lap for more attention, Spikey Back wasn’t into it and lied down just out of reach.

A group of women began to form nearby, but not too close, as Spikey Back had stood and shown the lot of them his teeth when they tried to form a cluster too near to where Taylor sat waiting for Ghardeh. Taylor could hear this and that which was said among the women. Some of the discussion was pretty damn raunchy. They were here to find action and had planned to greet the hunters when they conclude their meeting and disperse. They said things about what they wanted to do to the hunters they had chosen, sometimes what tests of strength and resilience they were expected to endure, but more often the discussions leaned heavily into overtly explicit themes. The woman who wanted Chulonte wanted to see if he could track by scent as accurately as his hounds could and if he succeeded in this test she would, and Taylor could only partially decipher the phrase, “??? him so ??? that his spine comes undone from his pelvis”. It made Taylor’s skin crawl, especially when all of the women laughed approvingly at what the other had said. Taylor hoped it was a lesser evil in being just a filthy joke but given how tall and strong they appeared, and how dangerous Ghardeh had told Talyor they were, they wondered if they really could injure their partners in such a way. It certainly seemed possible.

Taylor felt tension building in their chest. They heard them name off nearly all the hunters they’d seen enter the meeting room and every brutal ordeal they wished to subject them to, and it was only a matter of time before Taylor heard Ghardeh’s name. It happened, and when it did, the human’s pet name was mentioned as well. 

“Ghardeh is a difficult one to persuade, too difficult to bother with up until now. He now has rank advancements, clearly enough to afford him a live trophy. That’s worth some regard, but how to get rid of H’ko long enough to have adequate time with the man?”

“Seems like Chulonte’s dogs make fine enough guardians for it. Let us coordinate our liaisons then-”

Taylor couldn’t keep their mouth shut. They’d been infuriated by three ugly words. Live Trophy and, It.

“I am NOT a Live Trophy! And Ghardeh is NOT available for your abuse!” They shouted, causing both of the hounds to jerk to attention and search for a threat to their charge.

-Ghardeh-

Ghardeh had correctly predicted that the meeting would go very much as it had in all of the previous seasons, a few smooth agreements, a few disputes, a fight or two, and then they’d leave and continue about their personal business. He left that meeting room with lunch on his mind and the expectation that H’ko would be clamoring for a meal as well, he had not anticipated being met with the sight of them dangling from the grip of Dar-bak’di, the most fearsome of the local young women who roved in a pack during the breeding season. H’ko was kicking and gasping for air as they flailed in her grip, Chul’s hounds were being bribed into complicity by the other women offering them whatever morsels they had in their bags, and Dar-bak’di was making a show of how easily she could destroy a mere ooman. Now it was Ghardeh shouting H’ko! H’ko!

It took a great deal of convincing to get Dar-bak’di to release H’ko, and the limit of her mercy was to drop the gasping ooman on top of Ghardeh and call them both abominable, in addition to accusing Ghardeh of something akin to bestiality. Dar’bak-di had smelt Ghardeh’s amorous n'dui'se all over his ooman companion and she refused to believe it when she was told that H’ko was a legally hired mechanic. To perform mating practices with species classified as prey was frowned upon, but not against any written law. The truth of the matter was, H’ko was unbelievably lucky to survive the encounter and had, hopefully, learned something from it. 

-

The ooman did not argue or make a fuss on the way home, and whether they liked it or not they were carried. The bruising around their neck was already blooming into hot red blotches. Ghardeh said nothing of it but make no mistake, he was furious. He’d told H’ko in no ambiguous words not to engage in conversation much less an altercation with yautja women! And what did they do, start a fight they could never under any circumstances survive on their own.

Upon his Vessel, Ghardeh placed H’ko in bed and with the intention of letting them sleep the ordeal off. After leaving the room, he went to the galley to serve himself a drink before grabbing the kit to treat severe bruising, but heard the soft soles of H’ko’s feet padding behind him.

“Go back to the bed and rest,” Ghardeh told the ooman flatly without turning to look at them as he poured a glass of c’ntlip.

“They were saying terrible things,”

Ghardeh sighed and set aside the decanter before taking the first sip and responding.

“They’re lonely and horny, of course they were speaking in lewdisms. I warned you that they would speak this way about whatever they set their longing eyes upon.”

“But it was about you and-”

“I don’t care what was said about me! You disobeyed the most important instruction I have ever given you! You could have been rent to pieces! You directly challenged an individual no less than twice your height and perhaps four times your weight! Worse still, she was legally in the right to throw you through a wall if she wanted to!”

“She called me a Live Trophy!” H’ko shouted through a snarl.

The tone immediately triggered Ghardeh’s expression to twist and eyes to darken as he postured for a fight -albiet only a verbal one- but the words gave him a reason to pause as he processed what was said. Live Trophy, it was nothing else but a slur, and H’ko’s anger was justified. H’ko tended to show a fear response with tears and soft whines when they were angered, though, which Ghardeh was always bewildered by. A show of anger more familiar to Ghardeh had come first this time, perhaps because his own mannerisms had begun to rub off on the ooman, so a second pause was taken to scrutinize H’ko’s face. Ah, the grimace and tears were building behind the facade. Ghardeh deflated.

“She called you a Live Trophy?” he asked, softly this time as not to elevate H’ko’s anger further.

It was too late to abate the ooman’s upset. Fat droplets ran down their rounded face and they stopped making their oh-so-important eye contact as they nodded to confirm that, yes, they’d been called a live trophy.

Ghardeh moved in to close the distance between them in two strides before dropping both hands on his ooman mate’s shoulders with a great sigh. 

“We will treat the bruising on your neck, then we will prepare a meal on our ship, then we should talk about what happened.” 

H’ko did that typical human thing by saying nothing and gripping the yautja around the waist in an embrace. Ghardeh tried the rumble affectionately, but frankly, he was now furious beyond belief for all new reasons. Live Trophy. Had he known such a term had been thrown at his companion, he’d have been inclined to challenge her too.

“You were brave Tay-Lar, for defending your honor.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Ghardeh said with a genuine growl of approval this time, stroking the back of his companion’s round head.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Chapter 5. We have stucky, we have stevesambucky friendship, we have a new place to live and strange being a good guy because tony definitely ranted at him. Also, we're beginning the creepy part of the plot. I have decided that sam will be one of the main platonic characters in this story because I love sam.

fun fact: I used to be a creepypasta writer! Going back to my roots here, hehe.

Things had stated changing, for better or worse, much sooner than I had been prepared for - but was anyone, ever, really ready for the next big step? Certainly not me - the view that greeted me after I'd finished my shift at Jeremy's was peculiar and unexpected, so I froze, eyebrows high at the two super-soldiers parked, once again, illegally, right in front of the entrance door.

"Hi, doll," Bucky was reclined against his boyfriend comfortably, his bike standing a pace behind Steve's, who nodded companionably, a sheepish grin on his face.

"G'day," I nodded, eyeing them warily. "I think I know where this is going..."

"No, no, nothing like that," both men frantically waved their hands around, Steve coming up close to approach me slowly. "You're not in trouble. I came out here to say thanks," giving a sappy look to the grouch that was his boyfriend, Steve reached into his pocket and handed me a slip of paper. "Just, uh..."

"Those are our phone numbers. Don't hesitate to give either one of us a call if someone bothers you," Bucky took over the stammering blonde, shaking his head at the soft blush that blossomed on the good captain's face. The brunette wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders with a shy smile of his own. "Or if you, I don't know, need someone to carry your groceries or something," he snorted. "The punk wouldn't leave it alone until we came out personally to thank you, the sap."

The laughter bubbled up from my chest as I grabbed and pocketed the paper, throughly amused and at the endearing gesture. "Sure, thanks."

"And, uh," Bucky's eyes briefly looked to the side. "We'd appreciate if you keep the status of our relationship to yourself for now. We're not, like, officially out yet."

I froze in place, mouth falling open. Surely they were aware that anybody with a functional pair of eyes could see that they were much more than 'good, lifelong friends'. "No problem, guys. Lemme know if anyone gives you shit about it though, this place," I gestured to the café behind me, "is strictly paparazzi and homophobe-free."

Steve's grin grew even more genuine. "Yeah, we heard all about it from Tony and Stephen. Said 'twas the only place they go these days."

I wasn't aware of that. "It's the paps, isn't it?" I remembered Tony's remarks.

Bucky shook his head, the metals of his prosthetic arm whirring as it recalibrated. "Not only. The public hasn't had the best reaction to a man goin' out with a man," the brunette looked away to the side, where Steve's face had fallen considerably. "And Tony's an eccentric rich man. We're jus' two soldiers. The US Army won't be too happy if we... Came out," both men were crestfallen yet determined.

I had a hunch nothing would be able to separate the two - seeing as not even seventy-odd years and brainwashing and ice couldn't keep the captain and his sarge apart, I doubted that a few government weasels could successfully do the job. Even so, it was unpleasant, to say the least, to see them deny themselves something that technically was perfectly fine in the 21st century.

I chewed on my lip, gathering my wits. "I've clocked out, I can tell you this as a friend- as a person. You don't owe the army jack shit. They do not own you, you are your own person that they experimented their German knockoff steroids on. Respectfully, fuck that shit." I firmly stated my opinion, figuring that there should have been at least someone that told Steve that he is more than his star-spangled uniform and giant metal frisbee.

The blonde scrunched his eyebrows together, fingers gripping onto his belt until the knuckles went white, the hard line of his jaw set firm.

Bucky laugh took me by surprise. "Agreed, doll. I'm too old to be hiding in back alleys and shit," he clapped on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Although I'm happy enough with just not going to prison for bein' in love with this idiot."

"Jerk," Steve's responding pout was downright adorable now that I knew the circumstances surrounding their relationship.

Which wasn't exactly surprising. As a barista, I knew my fair share about my regulars' love lives, their jobs, their kids. The tea was almost always piping hot. "Bye, boys," I smiled at them warmly, throwing a glance at the time, adjusting the strap of my bag for comfort. "Stay outta trouble!"

Steve scrambled for his bike, having noticed my pointed gesture. "Sorry, didn't mean to hold you back. There, I have a spare helmet," he gestured behind him. "I'll give you a ride."

"There's no way in Hell I'm getting on that death trap!" I shouted cheerfully, walking briskly towards my second job, hiding a laugh in the warmth of my scarf as two very offended motorcycle-loving gay fossils sped past me, making truly incredible amounts of noise. Good for them.

Odette was content to let me rummage around the bodega without showing herself more than necessary, taking her appointments and doing- well, witch stuff, I guess, only coming out to poke at the various jars for ingredients.

"Star, I have a proposition for you," right before closing time, Odette's voice filled out the store with its low drawl. "A good friend of mine owns an apartment building, not far from here actually, and one tenant recently moved out. It's a safe space for those who are different," she enunciated the last word, fixing it with a pointed stare. "She's not overly fond of total strangers coming to live there. The rent is reduced and the apartment itself is slightly bigger and more fashionable than yours..."

"Where's the catch?" I found myself interrupting her. I wouldn't lie: the reduced rent and increased size of the apartment did interest me, as well as the probability of a kinder, more involved landlord. My current one was - not the best, but such was life in the NYC.

"There are a few rules to follow, rules that might seem strange at first but they'll make sense in time. And your neighbors might be also a little... Unusual," Odette carefully studied my face for any signs of displeasure.

I sighed.

And then I sighed some more as I was signing my new lease in a few days' time, having spoken with Porter, my new landlord, and his boyfriend who had claws and fangs- after so much time spent around Odette's, I didn't even blink. The couple liked me enough to extend a secure but flexible offer and some furniture to choose from the attic where they kept the spares.

I quite liked the large, vintage couch I placed next to the wide bow windows in the living room. The floors were hardboard and well-kept, the walls a nice, homely shade of green and Porter didn't mind any new holes in them that might arise from hanging up decorations. I scheduled a thrift crawl at the next possible opportunity, happy with the "good employee" bonus Odette had given me after I sealed the deal.

My stuff was boxed up, a sleepless night and a call to a begrudging Jeremy to have a couple of days off to move; I was, thankfully, not late on my schedule and all that I had left was to rent a car to move the boxes of my things and the few pieces of furniture I had decided to keep - my haul in Porter's attic had been incredibly rewarding and my new apartment had all the basics to make it look like a warm, inviting bohemian home in a while.

My phone rang suddenly, startling interruption to the romcom I was watching as I ate my last lunch in my old apartment. "Hello?" I answered the number without looking.

"Hi, doll," Bucky's voice rang out cheerful. "A little witch told me you were moving. I thought you might need a hand?"

I blanked momentarily, the thought of enlisting two very busy super-soldiers to haul ten boxes and two endtables worth of stuff not having crossed my mind at all. "Is this the moment when you stop by my house just to unattach and put your prosthetic arm somewhere and leave?" I asked, hearing distinctive snickering - several more people were with him.

The cheer in his voice blossomed into a full belly laugh. "You're funny," he teased me. "And thanks for the idea. But no, I have a room full of men that have nothing better to do but get on my nerves. Might as well make 'em useful," his accented drawl thickened the more we spoke. Muted cheers rang out in the background.

"Uh, sure," who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? I rattled off my address and warned them I didn't have a car, after which Bucky assured me it will be taken care of. The last remaining knick-knacks packed away, I went down to take out the trash, and returned to four people standing in front of my apartment building, all except one unrecognisable in their civilian clothes. "Hello," I waved at them, side-eyeing the tallest, grumpiest man of the bunch.

Stephen Strange was there, looking around curiously, hands in the pockets of his plain grey hoodie. I had already forgotten how normal he looked without his robes, and, frankly speaking, I preferred him like that. His title and the attire that came with it were quite intimidating.

"Hey there," a dark-skinned man who I recognised to be the Falcon, raised his hand. I had not met him yet. "I'm Sam, Sam Wilson. You must be the Star we're helping?" His quick once-over and the tilt to his lips; the ease with which he flirted had me brandishing smirks of my own. I led them all upstairs, Stephen's silence being just so loud. Sam, however, had no such reservations. "So, you're a witch, right?" Wow, subtlety was his middle name.

"Yes, I'll show you my broomstick," I deadpanned, wiggling my eyebrows at him with a grim look.

"Woah woah," Sam raised his hands as the three men behind us snickered loudly. "What happened to 'how are you? let's have dinner sometime'?"

I did my best imitation of an evil cackle as I let them through my front door. The four newcomers looked around my nearly empty apartment with muted interest before zeroing in on the pile of things in the corner: a few pieces of furniture and nearly taped boxes. Should be a walk in the park for four men.

A hand on my arm pulled me from the stupor of observing Sam, Bucky and Steve act like a well-oiled trio, bantering and teasing each other as they discussed how to best move the things.

"Look," Stephen Strange had all the appearance of a chastised puppy. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour that day. I was out of line," the low notes in his voice made the appearance of the apology being somewhat reluctant. Tony probably put him to it after our little burger run.

Irregardless, I wasn't looking to make any enemies. "Me too, I was under stress - not that I'm using it as an excuse," to give where it's due, I nodded at the sorcerer, immediately awestruck by the easy, boyish smile that stretched on his lips.

"You are strong," he added. "If you would like to learn our ways, we would welcome you." There was a spark in his eyes, something belonging to man that respected and collected knowledge. My own respect for him grew immensely just from that one thing.

"I'll think about it," I offered amicably, however, I still leaned heavily towards a negative answer to that particular proposition. I liked my current way of life.

Strange's grin made a momentary second appearance, until Sam's voice rang loudly: "Fire in the hole, Wizard-man," causing the former to groan loudly and look at me.

"Think about your new place for a second," he spoke, briefly touching out fingertips. As soon as that was over, a golden circle with my new living room on the other side of it appeared quietly, Strange's hands immediately going back into his pockets after that. I sighed and pointed the men into it, stepping in a second after. The sorcerer wasn't far behind. "You could learn that, too, you know," he added wryly, having seen my look of mild envy directed at him.

"I think I'll be good with having the 'pissed off the sorcerer Supreme and lived' pass for now," I retorted with an eyeroll, turning around to stare him down.

He had the decency to look somewhat sheepish, at least. "I'm not like my predecessor," his words were chosen carefully. "And, to be honest, I have no clue as to why your... Boss is so hostile towards me- us," Strange looked around the room before unceremoniously beelining for the couch and plopping down on it.

"Not to be a gossip," I started, slightly intrigued. "But Odette and some lady she called ancient had mad beef," I slipped into casual language easily, trying to recall the details of Odette's, quite often jumbled, stories. "Sounded almost like territorial disputes," I shrugged. "And the apprentices Odette took on before me found themselves in all kinds of compromising situations," I chewed on my lip. "Like the Arctic."

Strange rubbed his face with a noisy groan, large hands doing nothing to mask the resignation and slight embarrassment.

I focused on the thin, red scars on his hands - they had to have been something serious, the way slight tremors betrayed the deteriorating state of the nerves in his fingers. I frowned, quickly averting my gaze before he could catch me ogling him. The fact thag Stephen kept his hands in his pockets or covered by gloves at all times didn't go over my head.

He muttered something to himself, something that sounded like he was often forced to clean up his predecessor's mess. "I see," was the only thing he'd offered me, looking slightly pitiful and apologetic.

"Well," I started, noting the last of my stuff was about to be in its rightful place, "as long as you don't toss me into the ocean, I think we can coexist peacefully."

"Tony would kill me if I'd tried," Stephen groused.

"Probably," I agreed. "Considering the fact he hit on me, for you, it would make one hell of a lover's quarrel," my hand pointed towards the kitchen as Steve and Sam carried in the boxes aptly labeled "kitchen", looking around a place to put them down.

"Tony did what now?" Stephen's tone dropped, a wry smirk decorating his lips as he eyed me through his lashes.

"Don't ask me," I raised my palms, feeling my eyes widen. "He's chaos personified and Satan only knows what he's got on his mind."

That squeezed a laugh out of the tall man, followed by a fond, sappy smile as he looked out of my large, panoramic window, probably thinking of Tony himself. There was no doubt, Stephen Strange was utterly and throughly head over heels in love with Tony Stark. Good for them, good for them.

"A-and that's it," Bucky walked in, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel I'd provided them earlier. "I took some liberties and assembled the furniture, Steve is stacking the dishes as we speak," the brunette noisily plopped down next to me, arm carelessly thrown behind me on the back of the couch.

"Oh, um," I stammered, unused to such random gestures of kindness. "Thanks a lot, you saved me a day's worth of time and a backache," I smiled, scooting over to make some room for Sam.

"No problem, not like we had anything better to do than argue which part of the Lord of the Rings is the best," Wilson rolled his eyes, elbowing Bucky none-too-gently.

Bucky elbowed back, thus starting a horsing war between the two, causing me to scoot closer to Stephen as I attempted to avoid any flailing limbs; the sorcerer and I shared an identical, perplexed sigh as to how two grown men could easily bait each other into such juvenile behaviour.

Whatever. It was kind of endearing.

Steve emerged from the kitchen dusty but smiling, having heard the commotion, and quickly herded his guys into a semblance of decent behaviour before all of three of them left, leaving me and Stephen to go back to my old apartment and give the keys to it to the guard. That was done, too, and a portal from an alley behind my old building straight into my living room had me and Strange awkwardly hovering, saying out goodbyes and waving to each other as the golden circle rapidly shrunk in size and disappeared, golden sparks scattering across my living room carpet for a short second before they fizzled out, too.

I used the brief moment of respite to find the small piece of paper containing the rules Porter had insisted I read and take seriously; figuring it might be a good idea to give them a read before beginning to unpack, I popped open a bottle of soda, holding the itemized list written in neat cursive to my face.

The further I read, the further my eyebrows rose:

"1. Keep your door locked at all times.

2. If a person knocks on your door claiming to be the mail man, do not open the door under any circumstances. You are free to ignore the knocking - it only lasts a minute or so. After the person has left, you may open the door and check for any packages.

3. If Samantha from 3B visits you and asks you to babysit, you may do so at your personal discretion. Her twins are a handful and their daily habits are not for the ones with a weak stomach, however, they mean nothin ill and will not harm you in any way.

4. Do not use the elevator between the hours of 1 and 4 AM.

5. There are no apartments under number "7". If someone claiming to be from those apartments knocks on your door and requests entry, come up with a polite excuse to decline and send me a text message. I will take care of it.

6. There is no garden on the premises of this building. If a man approaches you, claiming to be a gardener, don't interact with him and simply walk away. He will leave you alone.

7. You may meet a girl in a polka-dot dress playing in the hallways or in the stairwell. This is Lucy. Always be polite to Lucy - you won't like what will happen if you're rude to her. She does not talk but she knows limited ASL and may request to visit you. Allow her in ONLY if you have fresh meat in your fridge (beef or mutton, preferably bloody). You might want to avoid seeing her eat, however, it might be very beneficial to make friends with Lucy. She knows a lot of things.

8. If, when taking the stairs, you encounter inconsistent numeration of the floors, such as floor 2 followed by floor 5 and etc, simply walk a flight back. It will sort itself out. The building is old and sometimes it gets confused.

Important notice: these rules apply to your guests as well. Please make sure to introduce and educate them on these matters. We will help as much as we can should a situation arise but ultimately, there are fates far worse than an untimely, however swift, death.

- Porter and Lance."

A slow, creeping dread began to gnaw at my nape, curling on like a cold snake deep in chest. As if laughing at me, the warm, welcoming embrace of the green walls and the toothy, wide smiles my landlords had given me encouraged my recently found sense of adventure, all of it mixing into a cacophony of exhilaration and unease, equally steadily driving my running brain insane.

I sighed again, immediately going to the box containing my altar and the rest of the protective items. So much for peace.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Bad Batch Season 1 Review

Overall, I give this season a 7/10. Out of all the Star Wars shows that I’ve seen, this is definitely weakest so far. However, this is only season 1 and as I recall, Rebels and Clone Wars didn’t start off that strong either. In fact, season 1 Ahsoka was very annoying but she got better as the show went on. I hope The Bad Batch is the same way.

Personally, I did enjoy this show. There are some really great things about this show, which I will discuss. On the other hand, my criticisms are pretty big and I hope the second season does a better job with handling them.

What I loved: 

The animation is absolutely stunning. Some of the backgrounds looked real and were gorgeous to look at. The expressions on the characters were so detailed and I really enjoyed the attention to detail. Although some of the character models need work, I still loved the designs. Cad Bane probably was the best updated character model. Yes, his hat needs to be larger, but I loved how detailed his face was with all the scars. This was really crisp animation and it was awesome.

The music was beautiful to listen to. The Kiner brothers are amazing composers. I really enjoyed the soundtrack. Star Wars has always had epic music, no matter what movie or show you’re watching. My favorite track has got to be “The Bounty Hunter is Back.” Hearing the western theme while Cad Bane made his grand entrance was epic! I love how he finally got his own theme song. The final episode’s music tugged at my heartstrings. This is the end of the clones and the music tells us that.

The voice acting is superb. Dee Bradley Baker is so talented and I have no idea how he does it. He’s voicing 5 main characters who all have slightly different accents. To add to that, he has to portray a lot of emotions while being two different characters at the same time. How he always hits the emotional moments or doesn’t forget which voice to use is amazing. I loved Michelle Ang’s work as Omega. She does a great job portraying her and her voice is very unique. And yes, Corey Burton as Cad Bane and Ming-Na Wen as Fennec Shand were awesome. 

I also really loved the parallels to other characters like Kallus and the action sequences. There are some really thrilling moments in this show. Cad Bane’s standoff with Hunter was amazing and visually stunning. Our space cowboy finally got his big western moment. Now, we need the Boba Fett standoff and it’ll be perfect. 

The cameos were fun as well. Seeing Cad Bane and Cut again were great. Young Fennec and Hera were also enjoyable. We see where they began their journeys and I’m here for it. I also like how the cameos weren’t just for fan service but tied into the story. We know now how Rex and Gregor found each other. Cad Bane and Hera were probably my favorites out of all the cameos.

As for the Bad Batch themselves, I did enjoy watching them. Omega is great addition and Crosshair worked his way into my heart. What can I say, I love tragic villains. 

What I didn’t like:

Now, for my criticisms. I still love the show but it isn’t perfect.

I feel like this show is unfocused with its plot. When it’s allowed to explore the main story like with Omega’s purpose and Crosshair, the show is at its best. However, the filler episodes do get in the way and don’t offer much except for fun side quests. I think if they cut a few of the filler episodes or rewrote them to develop the characters, then they would have worked. However, as they stand right now, they do drag the show a bit. The plot, from what I gathered, is the Batch trying to survive in a changing galaxy. However, I wish they showed more of the Batch struggling to fit in. I wish we saw more of the Empire’s presence affect things. The Batch seem to be doing just fine for most of the episodes. Perhaps a shorter season with a more focused plot would benefit this show.

Secondly, the character development needs to be worked on. Hunter and Omega got the most followed by Wrecker and Crosshair. Tech and Echo received very little. They touched on Echo’s PTSD and I wish we explored more of that. Seeing how he adjusts to his new life after months of trauma would be great storytelling. I’m glad he at least got to be the focus of one episode. I feel like the filler episodes should have developed the Batch instead of focusing on Omega or Hunter. I hope in season 2, we get more development for the Batch instead of just learning how to be parents. Tech and Echo deserve more. I want to know these characters better but it’s hard when some get left behind.

Finally, Crosshair. He’s still my fave but the show didn’t do him justice. When Crosshair is allowed to be the focus, he really shines and is easily one of the most compelling characters. However, he’s only really in the last few episodes. I definitely think the show should have explored his time with the Empire more. Then, we’d really see what he’s feeling. I think the show did a major disservice by portraying the Batch as if they didn’t care about him. They do, but it’s not shown very well. Hunter especially because he came off as being very uncaring at times. I think Crosshair deserved a lot more. Under his cold exterior, he’s really hurting and still cares for his family. I hope season 2 explores more of his feelings because he clearly feels a lot. The pain of being abandoned is something he feels strongly. I want to see him heal and eventually find his place where he isn’t hurt or forgotten. The Empire doesn’t care and I hope he realizes that. I also think the chip is still in because of his occasional headaches. And I need more scenes with him and Omega. Going forward, I want more Crosshair because he’s such an interesting character. 

Anyways, that’s all folks! I’m looking forward to the second season. I hope that it does fix the problems I mentioned above. See y’all later!

[jamieatthebarricade]

Maids to Wives // Chapter 3

An Outlander AU based loosely on the TV Show and real life in the historic Jamestown

In 1619, one hundred and forty-four English women from good families crossed the Atlantic in response to the Virginia Company of London’s call for maids “young and corrupt” to make wives for the planters of it’s new colony in Virginia. One in six of the maids could even claim gentry status. Although promised a free choice of husband, they were in effect being traded into marriage for a bride price of 150 pounds of best leaf tobacco, the profits to flow to individual investors

In 1619, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp made the voyage to do one thing: marry a man she's never met. But when she arrives, she comes to the startling realization that her heart belongs to someone else, a certain James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Find Maids to Wives on Archive of Our Own!

Chapter 3 : Maids to Wives

“Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

May 16th, 1619, Claire’s POV

The air was crisper in the new world, that was the first thing I noticed. The smell of soft pinewood, salt water, and fresh bodies filled my nose. Around me was open air, no tall buildings or hundreds of people in sight. I don’t remember the air being this clean since I traveled with my uncle.

While the air was clearer, there was also a thick fog of tension within the ship. Since seeing land, many of us women had realized how drastic our lives would change in less than a few hours. Either a woman would meet the love of her life, or she would enter a life of hell. I silently hoped for the first option. It was a new day, and we were nearly to the mainland. ‘You should tidy up’ my brain told me, as I looked around trying to find any reflective surface Managing to borrow a small piece of glass from another woman, my reflection stared back at me. Small bits of hair were falling out of my neat bun I had tried to make earlier in the day. The sailors wouldn’t let us use the water for washing up and such, so I wasn’t doubtful I didn’t smell all that good. I decided to use my remaining water ration to quickly wet my underarms as a sort of rugged wash. I smelt myself quick and didn’t find any odar too terrible. 

Looking into my reflection, I smiled. The curls around my face sprang out like a lion's mane, and thankfully to the sun, my face had a bit of color to it. I was no longer the ghostly pale my uncle lamb used to describe me as. He would call me a ghost, depending on where we were and how much sunlight I got. Around me, other ladies were trying to freshen themselves up as much as they could. Geillis had managed to braid a few strands in her long auburn hair. Mary also used some drinking water to give her hair a quick rinse. We all checked each other and were happy with what we were seeing.

“Are ye ready, Claire?” Geillis smiled at me. In truth I didn’t know if I was ready, but there was no turning back from it now. Weeks of waiting and daydreaming were finally coming true today. I was just happy to be on land, a different land, and start this adventure. “I hope my husband is tall. And fit. And has a nice arse” I threw my rag at Geillis in a joking matter. She rarely held back when it came to matters such as female sexuality. Geillis was truly an open book.

At the mention of arse, Mary flushed a nice shade of ruby. “You shouldn’t be mentioning such things!” She whispered softly under her breath, just loud enough for me and Geillis to hear. Geillis in turn laughed and placed a loving arm around Mary’s shoulders.

“If ye think arse is bad, what do ye think happens on the wedding night?” Mary’s face managed to blush an even deeper shade of red, and she quickly hurried into the line for disembarking the ship. Geillis laughed as she ran away, smiling contentedly to herself. 

“That lass is gonna have an interesting time with her new husband” Geillis and me walked over to where the rest of the women were waiting, including Mary. As Geillis looked on I stared out to the land. Grass was much greener than I remembered, and the sky seemed to shine a brighter shade of blue. It was like stepping through a portal into a strange new world, which is strangely what this is. I’m a stranger in a new world who wasn’t awaiting my arrival. Fear tug at my heart at the possibility of something happening. What if there wasn’t enough food? What if we were attacked by a new settlement? I suddenly felt exposed to danger, and subconsciously wrapped my cloak around my body, like a shield.

‘Whatever happens’ I thought. ‘At least I have Geillis and Mary here’. I was fortunate and grateful to have made such great friends on the voyage. Sure, I was expected to be a new wife, but who knew if a man could fill a hole of loneliness and want for a friendship. If something were to happen and I couldn’t tell my spouse, I knew that Geillis and Mary would be there for me.

“Claire, are ye alright? Ye starin’ at nothing,” Geillis gave me a gentle tap on my shoulder, breaking me from my thought haze. They already started carting women off the ship, and Me and Geillis were next in line. The shouts of multiple crewmen filled my ear, and I heard a man shouting the names of both women and the men who would marry them. 

Me and Geillis made our way onto the long boardwalk, and as we were half way, we heard Mary’s name being called.

“Mary Hawkins, Alex Randall,” A short but handsome young man emerged from the crowd. He looked no older than Mary, and his eyes lit up when he saw her. Anxiously, he walked over to her and held out a hand. I could see the blush from her cheeks as they walked away. ‘They’re going to make a wonderful marriage’.

I smiled internally at the sight of them. It was like seeing a sister finding the love of her life, I had nothing but joy for the 2 of them. I scanned the audience. There were men of all different ages and backgrounds. Tall men, short men. Young men, and old men. Most of the young men were reasonably handsome, handsome enough to tolerate. Many of them looked unwashed, which I figured would be the case as most men typically didn’t care that much about hygiene, which was an unfortunate trait.

When we got down to the land, the minute I put my foot down I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Whatever would happen, I’m here now. The feeling of knowing I couldn’t leave, even if I tried, gave me a sense of home oddly enough.

Geillis stood in front of men, waiting behind 2 more women. Slowly their names were called and met with their respective husbands.

“Suzette Augustin, Murtagh Fraser,” Suzette was french, that was one of the only things I knew about her. She was pretty, with very long black hair and a sweet smile, which lit up brightly as Murtagh stepped from the crowd. He was among the tallest of the group, wearing a tartan wrapped around his middle. His face was dark and aged, but he was still very handsome. Suzette definitely thought so, taking his hand politely, but I could see the excitement bouncing off of her.

They were down to the last person before Geillis. All of a sudden, the nerves came rushing back. I would be meeting my future husband in less than 5 minutes. What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him? I felt the sudden urge to run and hide from all of this, and I looked around quickly for a route (as if I actually had the nerve to run), when suddenly my eyes met with a man. 

He was probably the tallest, leaving me to wonder why I didn’t notice him before as he stood at least a few inches above the other men. His hair was bright ginger and slightly tostled. When I looked at him, all worries and troubles melted away. ‘Did he see the fear in my eyes?’ I wondered. I thought he would look away or turn his attention to one of the other women but his gaze stared at me. Suddenly the urge to run was gone, as if he was holding me by the shoulders. I felt peaceful, like this whole situation wasn’t that bad. 

Our connection was only broken when I felt a nudge behind me, indicating that I had to move forward. I did, but tried to keep my eyes on him a little longer. I didn’t even know his name, yet he was a familiar face in a sea of strangers. I tried to chase that feeling of serenity in his face just a minute longer.

He seemed like he was following me too, his head turning with my step. ‘Did he feel this same serenity?’ Maybe he was getting a bride today, and was just if not more nervous than I was. Deep down a part of me hoped I was to be the bride, but I tried to shake that thought quickly. I didn’t even know this man, I didn’t need to want him this bad.

I turned my head quickly forward, hoping that he didn’t find the action malicious. Even standing forward I still felt his eyes on me, and tried my best to keep my gaze ahead. Geillis and then me, and Geillis was already telling her name to the man.

“Geillis Edgars, Arthur Duncan” A short, stout man emerged from the crowd. He was at least 20 years her senior, and about 5 inches below her. As I saw Geillis’ face drop, I concealed my hand and tried to reach out for Geillis, but Arthur was already by her side, taking her hand lovingly. She took it hesitantly, and as they walked away, Geillis turned back and gave me a sad look. ‘I needed to see her later’.

“What’s your name?” a thick british accent said in front of me. My attention turned and I saw a man, maybe in his late 40s, and a big book in front of him.

“Claire Beuachamp,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice stable as best I could. I wanted to look into the crowd and find that man again. So far, his gaze was the only thing that brought me peace.

“Claire Beauchamp, Frank Randall” the man shouted. I looked out into the crowd, and the ginger man’s face dropped. It wasn’t the same calming look as before. Was he Frank Randall? Perhaps I mistook our connection before. 

Thankfully, another man emerged behind him. He was around my height and a deep, dark face. His hair was a nice brown, and he seemed to be balding but it didn’t age him any bit. He stood in front of me, and took my right hand, giving it a soft kiss on top. His hands were warm, and gave me a sense of hope. ‘I could build a life with this man’ I thought happily, smiling to him, which caused his face to light up as well. 

We walked away from the ship, right towards the ginger man. As we walked towards him, his gaze fell on me again, but this time it wasn’t a calm feeling that came over me. It was more of a flutter, like I was tongue tied without even talking to him. When we passed him, my shoulder brushed him softly. I quickly turned, causing Frank to stop in his path.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. He opened his mouth to answer but I felt a tug on my hand and before I knew it, our interaction was over. I looked over to Frank, and his kind face from before was changed to slight frustration.

Turning back once more, I caught his eye for only a second, yet I found so much solace in his face. It wasn’t love like you read about in stories, but it was understanding, and for some that’s a start. 

This time he was the one to look away, but quite hesitantly. My gaze shifted as well and and all of a sudden I wondered if I was making the right choice. I hadn’t even met both men yet, but the ginger man looked at me as if he was wrapping himself around me like a blanket, shielding me from any worries to come. I looked back at frank and didn’t find that same warmness. 

Instead, the feeling of fear and the want to run came back, but this time, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go back home or back to my friends. I wanted to find out what that man’s name was.

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

The Dragonborn | M!Reader x Geralt of Rivia | Part I

Just an idea I had after reading an awesome story by @waiting4inspiration

Notes: I never finished Skyrim. Also, many things I’ve written here are based on The Witcher 3 game, since the lore of the Series is not covering everything. Also, also, this story is inspired by a headcanon of mine about the Dragonborn. I will elaborate further in the next part :)

Fandoms: The Witcher (TV Series), The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim

Warnings: Non-Canon Story, Swearing, Gore, Slight OOC

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier meet a stranger in the woods while on the hunt for a special monster. They decide to team up but neither does Geralt realize that his prey is close to him nor does the stranger notice he's the one being hunted...

Word Count: 5785

Taglist: @yes-captainstark​ @stuckupstucky​

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name!

Please note that The Witcher is supposed to be around the Middle-Age. Homophobia existed.

Part II

_______

He definitely had to rethink his decisions when it came to helping villagers.

Geralt usually never hunted monsters that weren't on the information boards in towns, but when he heard the rumors in the tavern and the worried glances from every villager, he made an exception—something he regretted now.

He wanted Jaskier to stay at the tavern, but the bard was stubborn and just tagged along into the forest.

"Don't worry, Geralt. I won't get in your way."

The witcher didn't say it out loud, but that wasn't exactly why he wanted him to stay behind. Hunts with unknown monsters were dangerous even for an experienced monster slayer like him.

The Butcher of Blaviken couldn't prepare his silver sword with special oils since he didn't know what he would encounter. But from the rumors he had heard, the monster seemed to be a draconide, so Geralt used some strengthening potion on himself.

He didn't find any other clues, and the whole search for information hadn't helped at all. So he decided to just go for it. He would probably regret it later, but when did he not?

And now here they were. In the middle of a dark forest. It was almost nighttime, and Geralt and Jaskier hadn't found shit.

The witcher had left his horse in the stable of the village's tavern because the forest was close, and he didn't want Roach to get hurt in case the draconide wanted her as food.

So they had to carry everything by themselves. Thankfully, Jaskier insisted on taking their sleeping blankets and food rations.

"You know this could be a great opportunity for a new song. An unknown monster to slay, a dark and eerie forest, the Butcher of Blaviken..."

The bard appeared to be as lively as ever, Geralt on the other hand couldn't share his excitement. In fact, every muscle in his body was tense, and he concentrated hard on his hearing. The forest was whispering, and he heard a twig snap in front of them.

"...be something along the lines of Slay-"

"Shhhh."

The bard's expression changed, and he stopped talking immediately. The witcher unsheathed his sword and listened intensely. 

There it was again. A shuffle in the bushes, the crunch of fallen leaves. A presence coming towards them. His shoulders tightened, ready to attack when the bushes parted, and a man tumbled before their feet.

"Oh, greetings, strangers."

Jaskier just stared at the newcomer while Geralt pointed his sword at his neck. The man was wearing the strangest armor he had ever seen. It was black with blood-red features and had pointy shoulder pauldrons. 

It gave the man an intimidating aura, and the large scars in his face didn't help. But the way he greeted them and how he awkwardly scratched his head in uncertainty, made him look less dangerous. Oh, and the fact that his sword was sheathed. 

"Wha-what an odd turn of events," commented Jaskier, who tried to hide the fact that his legs almost gave out when the stranger had appeared before them. 

Geralt studied the man with a strange feeling in his chest. He could sense it. Something was strange about him. Maybe it was his accent, or the foreign armor, or how he looked completely calm when a blade was pointed at his throat. 

"Do you not know what lurks in this forest at night?" 

His tone was harsh, the stranger slightly agitated him, although the witcher didn't know why. The other just watched him for a few seconds, his e/c eyes scanning him. A shiver ran down Geralt's spine. 

"I'm hunting." 

Jaskier seemed to feel the strange atmosphere between the two because he said with a light undertone: 

"Well, we do too."

The witcher gave him an angry look, but the bard looked purposely in another direction to avoid his disapproving eyes. The stranger's expression turned somber when he heard these words, and Geralt furrowed his eyebrows, this fellow was definitely strange. 

"I assume you're a witcher?"

His voice was missing any disgust or contempt which surprised him. Geralt didn't respond, but he didn't have to because Jaskier, the babbler, took the word, as always. 

"Yes! He is Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken. And I am his humble friend, Jaskier, who tells the world his noble deeds. And who are you?"

The stranger seemed stunned by Jaskier's cheerful behavior, but then he returned the smile and bowed a little. It looked weird with his intimidating armor. Geralt squinted his eyes. Was this man a fool? His adam's apple almost touched his sword now.

"Call me Y/N. I do not have a last name, but I come from Keizaal, a faraway land. And I’ve been staying here in the forest for a few weeks in a hut half a mile from here."

Keizaal? The witcher had never heard of it before, and it disturbed him. All the studying he had to do when he was younger, but the homeland of this person was unknown to him. 

Geralt examined the man closer. For someone who apparently stayed in the forest for a long time, he looked a little too clean. But maybe people from Keizaal had a different washing methods. His thoughts trailed off.

"A pleasure to meet you, Y/N," replied Jaskier and bowed in return, he gave Geralt a look and the witcher only hummed, although lowering his sword. 

"What are you hunting if I may ask?" requested the h/c haired man while he absently watched how the moon appeared in the sky over the tree line. It was fully night now, and Jaskier unconsciously took a step closer to Geralt. The witcher had no problems seeing in the dark, and the stranger didn't appear to either. 

"None of your concern." 

Once again, he gave the man the cold shoulder, but Y/N ignored it. He only raised an eyebrow and grinned slightly. Surprisingly, it made Geralt's blood boil. That bastard's presence was bothersome.

"It looks like we need to part ways again, but it was a pleasant surprise to meet the witcher everyone is talking about." 

He tensed at the mocking undertone. 

What was that supposed to mea-

A scream disrupted the three of them, and both Geralt and Y/N turned around to see from where the sound came from. 

"Jaskier," grunted the witcher, and the bard stepped behind him. 

"The Nightwraith," murmured the foreigner, and his head whipped around to him. 

"How do you know that?"

Geralt's voice was sharp and menacing, but Y/N didn't respond, he unsheathed his sword and swung it in his hand with practiced ease. His defensive stance screamed mighty warrior, and a shiver once again ran down Geralt's spine. 

What is this strange feeling? 

He could hear Jaskier's heart pounding fast with the help of his increased hearing. The foreigner's heartbeat, on the other hand, was calm and steady as ever. 

"It might be best if you protect your companion."

These words were the last ones of the stranger before he disappeared through the bushes.

"What are you doing?!" shouted Geralt, but Y/N was already gone. 

-

The man ran until he confirmed that the distance between him and the two others was big enough. He clenched his hand and concentrated on his Magicka. The spell for detecting any undead engulfed his eyes, and he saw the Nightwraith 30 meters in front of him. The ghost looked straight at him and once again screamed like bloody murder. 

"What a shame that the ghosts here cannot be captured in soul gems..." 

Y/N grimaced and decided to attack first. As long as the spell was activated, he was able see the monster even when she was in her ethereal form. It would decrease her chance of escaping and attacking the witcher and the bard. So he decided to charge. 

"WULD NAH KEST"

A whipping sound erupted, and a familiar feeling washed over him as he dashed towards the Nightwraith with inhumane speed. The creature screeched in surprise and pain as soon as his enchanted ebony sword hit her. He understood the confusion of the ghost, his weapon was not from this world, and neither was he. That's why he was able to harm her even when she was in immaterial form. 

He had fought against thousands of monsters, slew giants, trolls, werewolves, and even daedras. And obviously dragons. A mere ghost like the Nightwraith was nothing for him. 

He slashed the monster's gown, and the cloth sizzled and turned to ash when the ebony touched it. 

She tried to fight back, raised her clawed hand in an attempt to attack his head, which was the only part of Y/N's body that wasn't covered by his armor, but her claws didn't connect. His sword impaled her rotten body, and a howl full of agony erupted from her mouth. 

A tremor in her body and the lack of physical resistance to his sword showed him that she was about to split into three copies of herself, but he wouldn't let her do that. The man shifted, ignoring how her body disappeared and then turned around to face her petty trick.

A fiery heat crept up his throat, and the ground shook slightly when he shouted:

"YOL TOOR SHUL"

The copies that appeared behind him got engulfed in green flames and turned to dust. With a twirl of his hand, Y/N rammed his sword inside the original Nightwraith's skull, who emerged from the left. 

A wail escaped from the monster's lips when her body too exploded in green flames and vanished. 

The man's legs buckled under him, and he had to use his sword as support not to fall. 

Using two shouts so quickly after another had always weakened him. Even when his body began to adapt to his soul. Slowly he sat down on the moss-covered ground and took a deep breath. Exhaustion washed over him like a wave and he huffed.

Maybe they had heard the Nightwraith's dying scream because he could listen to fast footsteps approaching him. He only glanced into their direction, and when he saw that the witcher and the bard looked unscathed, he sighed in relief.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Geralt of Rivia was fuming, he could smell it, and his voice clearly gave it away. 

"I was trained to kill monsters; I am a witcher! Did you believe a mere human could kill a Nightwraith?! Be happy you didn't find it. It would have torn you to shreds!"

When he heard the insult, his eyes twitched, and he closed them. It wasn't a good idea to show them to the angry witcher at the moment. 

After so many years with his dragon soul, which prolonged his life, his body began to go through chances. His pupils turning to slits when he was agitated was one example.

The fact that the bard had watched the white-haired man with a surprised expression showed him that he wouldn't normally react this strongly. Y/N shifted, and the clinking of his armor drowned out his scornful snort. 

"Well, I am quite happy because I was indeed able to kill her."

He didn't see the witcher's expression, but the silence said enough. The corner of his lips twitched, and when his eyes stopped hurting slightly, he opened them again and stared into Geralt's yellow ones. 

"But I'm exhausted now. I don't think I can stand up and return to my hut."

Jaskier exhaled through his nose and muttered: "with this armor, no wonder." The bard turned to face his companion, and they held a short silent conversation before he set down his lute next to Y/N and said with a lively voice: 

"Well, since it's already night, let's camp here together."

"NO!" yelled both of the armed men at the same time. Geralt glared at him, and the other returned it with a scowl.

Jaskier eyed his partner suspiciously and then turned to the h/c haired man who's intense stare made him unconsciously lick his lips. Oh, he saw what this was.

"Come on. We cannot leave Y/N alone out here if he isn’t even able to stand up. We will light a fire and give you some of our food." 

In the end, they both complied even though not without grunting and murmuring curses under their breath. Geralt lit the branches he gathered while Y/N peeled off his armor with skillful efficiency. His clothes underneath looked elegant, but they were dirty and had brown stains, which most likely were blood. 

Jaskier prepared some bread and cheese that they had taken from the tavern back at the village and then sat on his sleeping blanket. The witcher watched as the foreigner and the bard started a conversation.

"How far away is Keizaal? I never heard of it."

The man took some time before he replied.

"I had to cross the ocean for a year to get to you."

"A year?! Mercy! Did you hear that, Geralt?"

He only grunted. Skellige was already so far away, how many miles had the man traveled to get here? That fact impressed him a little, but he didn't show it and just continued stacking the branches he collected.

"You look skilled with the sword..." 

Y/N looked at his strange weapon, and Geralt couldn't help himself to listen carefully when the other began to talk about his life.

"From where I come from, men have no choice but to learn how to fight. There was a civil war when I first came to Keizaal, or Skyrim how the natives call it. I had to pick sides, and many people relied on me. Fights with monsters like the Nightwraith", he pointed to the heap of dust a few meters away from their camp, "happened daily. Your continent and Redania is similar to Keizaal in that matter. You can die anytime. If you're not careful."

The man had a longing in his voice when he spoke of his homeland, and his silhouette looked lonely. Then he laughed, but it sounded bitter.

"Oh, but there's one difference to your land. We had dragons."

Geralt stood up and turned to face the man. 

"We have dragons too."

Y/N shook his head and dismissed the comment with his hand.

"I mean real dragons, not your pathetic lindworms. The first time I met one, fire rained down on earth, and a whole town was burned to ashes. Keizaal was in the claws of terror for years. His name was Alduin, the World Eater."

Jaskier's jaw dropped, and he grabbed his lute. 

"Tell me more! I get inspiration from stories!"

The h/c haired man shifted to sit more comfortably and then started to tell the story of the most significant threat Keizaal had ever faced.

-

"...and that's how the Dragonborn slew Alduin and returned to Keizaal." 

Jaskier's eyes were beaming, and his face showed a slightly scary expression, but Geralt knew that the bard just imagined all the things the warrior had told them.

"And then? What happened to him? I mean, you should know, you said you were his friend."

Y/N grimaced and let his rough fingers travel across his blade. He looked like he didn't want to talk about it, but in the end, the man sighed and just said:

"His dragon soul was too much for his human body, and he slowly turned into a dovah. His humanity was gone, and only a violent beast stayed. His other companions and I had to kill him."

Geralt noticed the pain in his eyes, and he felt bad for the man who had lost his best friend. Y/N lifted his head and realized that the witcher was looking at him. He turned away in slight embarrassment.

"We should sleep now. I will stay on watch first."

The Butcher of Blaviken only nodded, and Jaskier sighed. 

"Then, I will take the next shift." 

He didn't like taking the last shift, but Geralt didn't say anything and just laid down on his blanket, facing away from the two others. 

Dovahkiin. It really sounded strange. The fact that there was a place out there so different from everything he had ever known... It intrigued Geralt. Y/N seemed to have been bound to fate, too, at least in a way. 

He regretted yelling at the man, but at that time, he had really believed that he was just some fool who tried to boast about his skills. But Y/N had indeed killed the Nightwraith. Geralt had seen the remains. 

He looked at the shadow of the foreigner that danced on the trunk of a tree close to him. Since he wasn't wearing his intimidating armor anymore, he just looked like a normal man, who had seen too many people die and fought against too many demons. 

Just like me. 

He felt a strange bond between himself and Y/N, and he decided to try and be a little friendlier tomorrow. 

He closed his eyes, and the only thing he heard before he fell asleep was the steady breaths of Jaskier, the man humming and the fire's crackle.

.

Hands touched his shoulders. They were rough and big. Geralt shivered when they traveled across his back and all the scars he had received from his life as a witcher. "What are you doing?" he asked when he could feel a breath on his neck. "We are the same," replied a deep voice, and it sounded raspy. He wanted to turn around, but somehow he couldn't. "The same?" He stopped short when a warm body pressed against his back. The person snaked their arms around his torso and touched his chest. Geralt felt heat creeping up his body. Laying in the arms of this person, he felt safe but also slightly uneasy. His heart skipped a beat when two lips touched his neck. They were rough, but the kiss felt like a feather. The other person's breath tickled his skin, and he shivered, although it was pleasant. "Both of us are monsters." The hands on his chest suddenly began to claw into his skin and ripped deep wounds into his flesh. He began to scream.

"..ralt, Geralt! Wake up!"

He jolted awake and found himself staring into Jaskier's worried face.

He grunted "what's going on?" his voice deep from sleeping, and the bard bit his lip. 

"Y/N went to take a piss, but he hasn't returned, and I heard a roar, a thunderous roar."

Geralt sat up and rubbed his eyes with one hand. His forehead was damp from sweating so much, and he cursed the person of his dream. 

"He didn't run away?" 

Jaskier shook his head and pointed to the armor next to the warrior's blanket.

"He woke me up for my shift and then said he would be right back. He wasn't even wearing his boots." 

He didn't miss the worried undertone of his friend, and Geralt sighed deeply.

"I'll go look for him. Stay here. Don't let the fire die out and call out to me if something approaches the camp!"

The bard was definitely not happy with being left behind, but he knew that was better for all of them. He wasn't much of a help, not when it came to killing monsters. And the thing he had heard out there was definitely one.

Geralt took both of his swords and sheathed the one made out of steel. With the silver sword in his hand, he began to walk into the direction Jaskier had pointed to. 

He saw the footsteps on the ground, leaving a trail of dark spots on the dewy moss. He followed them, and they led quite far away from their camp to a tree from where he could smell the stench of piss. He wrinkled his nose and searched for other tracks, but there weren't any. 

"What in the worl-"

He was still able to turn his head around, but he couldn't avoid a black thing that slammed into him at full speed. 

The witcher was sent flying, and when he crashed on the ground, it took his breath away and caused his vision to turn black for a few seconds. A roar shook the earth and the trees as if there were an earthquake and a storm at the same time. His ears rang and he lost focus for a second.

A shadow cast over him and Geralt's blood froze when he saw two rows of gigantic sharp teeth with a blurry vision. An orange glow appeared, and he could feel the heat radiating. He threw himself to the side; any second later, he would have been turned into roasted meat. 

His instincts told him to run, and he did. Shameful, but a witcher knew when his opponent was too strong. He still couldn't see properly, his head was ringing painfully, and his ribs and chest felt like they would explode, but fear carried him forward. 

Thundering footsteps could be heard behind him, and a roar erupted again from the beast's throat that pursued him. It shook him to the core, and he was sure that this was the monster the villagers had talked about. The beast was growling, and he paused mentally. Did this thing just say something?

Geralt took a step forward, but there was no ground underneath his foot, and he tumbled down a steep hill. Stones dug into his back, branches tore his undershirt, and his head hit a bolder. It felt like his energy was sucked away. Everything turned black.

-

"I found him!"

Y/N informed Jaskier and rushed down the small hill into the dry riverbed where an unconscious witcher laid. He knelt and checked Geralt's pulse. It was slow and slightly weak but there. He searched with his hands for any severe wounds, but besides the nasty gash on his temple, he was fine. Or that's all he could see for now. 

He pushed the shirt of the Butcher of Blaviken up and touched his torso. He was correct. There were some bruises right over his ribs. Fortunately, nothing seemed broken. He pushed and felt around some more until he heard a cough, and he stiffened.

"What.. uhm, what are you doing?"

The bard's voice sounded suspiciously like he was grinning, and Y/N clenched his teeth in annoyance. 

"He bruised his ribs. It will probably hurt for a while. We should take care of his temple wound."

Jaskier whistled, which caused him to furrow his eyes, but he didn't say anything; instead, he stood up and roughly grabbed the witcher and threw him with ease over his shoulder. Y/N turned and left the bard standing there with a gaping mouth. What a hassle. 

It had been strange. When the man had woken up six hours ago, he had laid somewhere in the forest, his enchanted shirt torn at the back, and his hands and feet were dirty. His fingernails were stained black because of the earth under them, and he had a raspy throat. He had no memory of what had happened. 

The sky was still dark, and next to Y/N laid a fallen tree that looked like it had been broken in the middle with force. Wood splinters surrounded him. 

He had used one of his spells to find the way back to the camp, where he found Jaskier alone and scared shitless.

"You're alive!" was his greeting. 

The bard told him how Geralt went looking for him, and breathlessly explained that he hadn't come back. He thought the warrior from Keizaal had died. 

Y/N luckily didn't, and they decided to look for the witcher in the morning. Or he decided, Jaskier was firmly against it, but when he taunted the bard to search by himself, he gave in quietly. He knew that it was safer for both of them. 

While he waited with sweaty hands, Y/N realized something and discreetly changed his torn shirt. He also wondered how his enchanted clothes could be damaged to such extremity.

When the sun rose, they had begun searching, which led up to now.

.

"Isn't he heavy?" 

Jaskier's question made him chuckle. 

"Try lifting my armor. If you're not strong in Keizaal, you'll die before you can hear the end of the Dragonborn song."

The bard suddenly grabbed his arm, and Y/N stopped walking. Jaskier's eyes were wide, and his face had a pleading look when he practically yelled:

"A song? Sing it to me, please!"

He blinked slowly. When was the last time someone asked him to do that? Was it 50, no 80 years ago? He didn't remember. 

The ring on the necklace he wore around his neck seemed to burn his skin, and a pair of eyes flashed before him. It had been so many years, and his heart still hadn't let him go. 

"I can't sing well... But if you really want me to..."

The smaller man nodded profusely. 

"Yes! Absolutely. Please."

Y/N needed a moment to translate the text and remember the tune, then be began:

"Our hero, our hero

Claims a warrior's heart

I tell you, I tell you

The Dragonborn comes..."

-

Geralt woke up 2 hours later. His head was still pounding, and his ribs also hurt, which was strange. Did his healing abilities not work? And where was his undershirt? Why was his head bandaged? He looked at the crowns of the trees and pondered for a moment. What happened?

"You’re awake?"

He turned his head and stared into the e/c eyes of the foreign warrior. His hair fell into his face, and Geralt thought that the scars in Y/N's face must have really hurt. Somehow he was relieved that the man was alive.

"What happened to the monster?"

Y/N furrowed his brows. He didn't seem to know what he was talking about. Slowly he sat up, and a groan escaped his lips when his chest protested.

"You should be careful, nothing's broken, but bruises can hurt anyway."

Geralt scoffed. "I had to endure worse things." 

Then he paused. That's not what he wanted to say. Didn't he decide to be friendlier? 

The warrior didn't reply, but his shoulders stiffened, and he realized that he might really be a little too unfriendly. But he was a man anyway, so why did it even matter? Maybe he got a concussion after that fall.

"Did you find me?" 

He changed the topic, and when Y/N nodded, he looked away and hummed.

"Thank you."

He only received a pat on the back, and Geralt's heart skipped a beat. The man's hand felt like the one's from his dream. Was he thinking about Y/- 

What a stupid thought. The witcher shifted and turned to face the fire where Jaskier sat and roasted a rabbit. 

"Oh my, I had thought it before, but seeing you now... you look like shit if I'm allowed to say." 

You already did.

"Well, you try and get chased by a fire-spitting beast."

The bard paused and exchanged a look with Y/N. He wondered when they got so close. Could people consider this to be close? Exchanging knowing looks? Geralt had no idea. He didn't even know why that mattered. Maybe he had really hit his head a little too hard.

"So that's what happened? You ran away?"

Jaskier was as considerate as ever. He clenched his jaw and then relaxed. Might as well tell the truth.

"Yes... I think that thing is completely different from anything I've ever hunted before. I wasn't able to see it properly, but it spitted fire and walked on two legs. The latter would suggest a wyvern, but the fire doesn't, and another thing was strange... I think it spoke? It said Gaan Vah Haas or something like that."

Y/N suddenly coughed. Both their heads turned to the h/c haired man.

"Gaan Lah Haas? Are you sure?!"

Geralt nodded, and the eyes of the man suddenly beamed. He blinked. The way the man's eyes turned into crescents had something... captivating. 

His brain sputtered. He could only nod some more, his mind too focused on the strange thoughts.

"Do you perhaps know something about this beast?"

Jaskier continued to turn the rabbit over the fire, but his eyes were fixed on Y/N, who was silent for a while before answering.

"Truth be told, I only came here because I was searching for someone from Keizaal. He disappeared, and I was put in charge of bringing him back."

This new information made him regain focus.

"Are you implying the thing that chased me and tormented the villagers is the one you're looking for? It may have had two legs, but it definitely wasn't human."

The man shook his head and pulled a satchel out of nowhere. He put his hand inside, and Jaskier's eyes almost popped out when his arm entirely disappeared as if the satchel was much bigger than it looked. He retracted his hand and conjured a red scale. It was gigantic.

"This..." began Y/N, and his eyes held a look of melancholy, "is one of his scales. He's a dragon. Like Alduin."

The bard was still in shock about the magic satchel, while Geralt studied the scale from afar. It had a vibrating red color and beautiful iridescence. When the beast had chased him, he didn't see exactly what color it had, but if it’s scales were such a vibrant color, he would have surely noticed, right?

"A dragon from Keizaal?"

He received a nod.

"And you have to bring it back?"

"His name is Odahviing, and he's harmless. Also, yes, I have to bring him back."

"The thing out there definitely tried to kill me, I don't know about you, but that doesn't look harmless to me."

Y/N's expression turned dark. 

"He's mostly harmless. But that's why I have to bring him back."

-

Truthfully, he was spouting horseshit.

All the things he had said up to this point, about his life in Keizaal, his journey, all were lies. He didn't travel a year to get to this continent, or more like this world. He walked through a goddamn portal and arrived in the middle of some forest he had never seen before. 

Had he not met a kind but old soul who took him in and helped him, Y/N would have probably gone crazy. Or maybe he already did. After all these years, he wasn't so sure if that wasn't already the case. 

Furthermore, he wasn't the Dragonborn's companion, no, he was him. 

Or had been. He wasn't anymore. 

After all, Alduin's death was 130 years ago, and everyone who knew his real story was already dead. Only his friends from the Mer side had remained. And Paarthurnax and also Odahviing. 

Using his friend's name felt like a betrayal. But he couldn't really explain the portal thing without telling Geralt and Jaskier that he was the Archmage of Winterhold and he already said that the Dragonborn held that title, so... 

That was also why he didn’t heal the wound of the other man although he really wanted to. He somehow couldn’t bear the thought of the witcher hurting.

Y/N used his friend as an excuse to not hurt the dragon. 

He decided to spin a story around it.

Well, it was only half a lie. The thing that attacked the Butcher of Blaviken appeared to be a dragon from his world. The shout that Geralt had heard and obviously also had to endure was proof enough. 

It was the Thu'um with which a dragon could drain the vitality of their prey. If Y/N had to guess, that was why they had to bandage his head wound and why the witcher's healing abilities weren't working for the time being. Besides the fact that the shout was otherworldly magic.

But what he didn't know was how a dovah from Keizaal could come to this world. The portal he walked through had appeared in the middle of the woods, but he had slain all the dragons after Alduin's death, so it didn't make sense. 

Well, he would probably find out the truth in the next few days. And when he found the dragon, he would just ask them. They would probably also be the key for him to return home. 

Y/N slightly paused. Did he even want to go back to Keizaal? 

Most of his friends had already left for Sovngarde, and the ones who remained had been troubled by the personality changes he had gone through after his lover’s death. 

Would they be happy if he returned? 

Maybe I should stay... There's so much to learn about this continent and its inhabitants.

His eyes traveled to the witcher.

He would think about this later. The most important thing right now was to capture the dovah so that they could interrogate them.

"My job is usually to kill monsters. Not capture them."

The white-haired man pulled him out of his thoughts. 

Y/N searched his eyes, and his heart stung a little when he realized once more how similar Geralt's yellow eyes were to Farkas's when he had turned into a werewolf. It devastated him but also drew him to the witcher. 

Geralt was grumpy. Just like his love had been often. Talos, his heart...

"If I plead, will you not kill him? Or do I have to toss you a coin?"

The remark made Jaskier beam, and he grinned a little. 

The bard was the complete opposite of the witcher. Maybe that was the reason why they were friends. Although it did look like the brown-haired man would just hang onto the other if he wanted to or not.

"You know the song?"

"Of course I do, there's not one tavern where I haven't heard it." 

"You do not have to plead nor give me money. As long as that... as long as he stops terrorizing the villagers, I'll try not to kill him."

Geralt's voice sounded once again harsh, but Y/N could feel his sincere feelings, and he smiled at him. 

"Thank you."

A silence fell over them, and Y/N was pleasantly surprised when the witcher returned his smile with a small but existing one. His heart skipped a beat, but he ignored it. 

The atmosphere around them was peaceful for the first time they had met, but Jaskier interrupted it:

"So am I correct when I say that you just teamed up to capture this Odahviing? Oh, heavens, I just received your inspiration for a new song!"

While he grabbed his lute and began to mutter things along the lines of "Two warriors so great" and "Once upon a time, two monster hunters met and became friends," Geralt and Y/N exchanged a look and rolled their eyes simultaneously. 

Maybe they would indeed become friends.

________

Wuld Nah Kest = Whirlwind Sprint (A shout that grants the ability to dash rapidly forward.)

Yol Toor Shul = Fire Breath (A shout that allows one to breathe a forceful blast of fire.)

Part II

[missmonsters2]

Songs For You

Requester: @thatgirlwholikesgirls 💘

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader/OFC

Prompt: “I’m in love with you.”/“Are you finally confessing to me? Because I feel the same way.” 

Note: The dream scenario haHA. Thanks for sending this in 💘

Warnings: heart palpitations.

Translation: Пойдем со мной, Ванда. Нам нужно поговорить - Come with me, Wanda. We need to talk.

Genre: Fluff

Count: 4627

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It only takes 12 songs for you to fall in love with Wanda.

Of course, it's over the course of one year, but nonetheless, she becomes every song to you.

It starts on December 31, New Year's Eve. You're really on the cusp of New Year's as it's 11:45 PM.

You're stuck at the university, getting all the reports done on a tight deadline. You let your colleagues who are teaching the same course as you go on the count that they all have a family to celebrate with, and all that's waiting at home for you is your cat.

And not to diss your cat, but he doesn't even know what New Years is.

You call it a night, leaving just a couple more reports for when the holidays are over. It isn't until you're leaving your office that you see someone standing there and nearly have a fucking heart attack.

"WHAT THE FUC–" You nearly scream, ready to throw your bag at the person and call 911.

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—Pietro let me in!" The person exclaims while holding their hands out in front of them to both calm you down and also shield themselves if you did throw your bag at them.

You pause momentarily when you hear his name because Pietro is the professor for Business Entrepreneurship.

You're pretty good friends with him. He would say you're kind of too quiet and a smidge prickly, but he was lighthearted with you. He jokes around all the time that the two of you are bound to start dating, and you're just playing the long game. He's relatively pretty harmless in his advances. He likes to joke and laugh, and you find that's easy to be around. 

The girl standing there stands straight, clearing her throat when she realizes you're not going to attack her.

She says your name and asks if you're her.

"Yeah, that's me…" You nod, unsure.

And then she bursts into song. 

You're mortified that she's singing Fireworks by Katy Perry while you can see fireworks being shot in the sky in the distance as it hits midnight.

When she finishes, she smiles tentatively at you.

"Happy New Year's," she hands you a card.

"…Thanks," You say dumbly, 

"Happy New Year's to you too…?"

"Wanda," she introduces herself and then gives you an awkward wave before leaving.

You're not sure what the hell just happened, but you look down at the card and open it.

Happy New Year's! - Pietro

You roll your eyes and send him a text as you leave the building, the girl was long gone.

You: Next time, maybe warn me because that girl almost went to jail because of you.

Pietro: Surprises are more fun!

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next time you're at work, you punch Pietro in the arm while he laughs.

You tell him how that girl was very close to getting a concussion and going to jail.

But he just laughs out, "It wouldn't be her first time."

Then you find out that is his twin sister.

The incident is long forgotten with school getting busy, and the students are buzzing around for the reading week break before their midterms.

It isn't until Valentine's day when you're sitting out in the university park on the grass, enjoying the sun and slight breeze that Wanda shows up again.

Only now it's even worse because there are many students out here as well studying.

She's standing in front of you, in a cupid's costume you would say is a little inappropriate, but fuck, she's got excellent legs.

"Please don't," you whisper in horror, but Wanda merely smiles apologetically because she can see Pietro standing in the far distance for this performance.

And then she's belting out Stereo Hearts by Gym Class Heroes, and honestly, you can't even control your face to stop the grimace that comes.

But you admit, you're impressed by Wanda's rapping.

You try not to flush red as every student in the vicinity has their eye on you. 

When Wanda finishes, she's about you hand you a card when you grasp her hand and pull her down until she's eye level with you.

"Is this going to be a regular occurrence?" You ask her, the smell of cinnamon and oranges invading your senses pleasantly.

Wanda smirks, and you're not sure if anyone should look that good smirking.

"Well, perhaps you should ask my brother as he's got 10 more songs lined up for you," Her eyes travel past you, and you turn to see what she's looking at.

Pietro is standing in the distance, waving his arms enthusiastically, and you sigh.

You turn back and see Wanda's big, green eyes staring back at you, and you're not sure if it's because you're not in a panicked state that you notice her accent a lot more.

You find it interesting as Pietro has started to lose his, but his sister's accent was still strong (and sexy).

You take the card in her hand, and let go of her hand as you realized you're still holding it.

"I'm assuming the next one is St. Patrick's Day?" You softly quirk your lip up.

Wanda merely smiles, giving you an answer without saying anything. 

"Right," you tap the grass with the card twice, and Wanda gets up with a small wave to you and her brother before leaving campus. 

You turn back to Pietro, who is giving you a goofy smile, and you shake your head at him.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

March comes quicker than you'd like. It's been pretty hectic with papers and projects due, you hardly have time to think about the impending song-o-gram.

You do try to tell Pietro to stop and maybe save money, but he boasts about how he has a family discount. 

Then you begin to wonder why Wanda has such an odd job in the first place.

Also, how does she know where you'll be?

Does Pietro just share your location with Wanda?

You do debate hiding from Wanda so she can't sing. Although you have no qualms in admitting her voice is beautiful, the songs Pietro picks are just not resonating with you.

But it's St. Patrick's Day, and you're planning to let your students go early so they can go have their fun after their latest project. 

"Okay," you turn to your class with a smile, "I suppose you can all--"

There's a knock on the door. 

Your brows furrow as one of your students opens the door.

And there she is again.

In all her green glory (and a cute leprechaun hat).

The students all turn their heads to look at you.

And you know it looks strange.

"Class...dismissed."

Your students groan as they want to stay and watch the debacle because it's well known now how you've been getting song-o-grams.

Luckily, no one knows who the sender is. 

Your students shuffle out the door, some give lingering looks to Wanda.

When it's finally just the two of you in the room, you lean against your desk with your arm crossed.

"Do you always put this much effort into your song requests?" You look again with her black tights with fishnet tights over those and a little green dress.

"It definitely costs extra, and my brother aims to please," Wanda adjusts her hat. 

You chuckle because Pietro is an overachiever.

"Alright," you sit fully on your desk, "want to make a side deal with me?"

Wanda looks at you curiously.

"Can we skip the song?" You plead.

"You don't like my singing?" Wanda pouts, and you immediately panic.

"No!" You exclaim, but huff when you see Wanda giving you a teasing smile. 

"I just," you breathe, "the singing brings a lot of attention. Not entirely what I'm comfortable with being new to the school."

Wanda nods.

"Well," she smiles, "I'm open to negotiations in place of a song."

"What can we barter?"

"I won't say no to coffee," Wanda says, and you laugh.

"Coffee I can do. Any particular place you like?" You get off the desk. 

"I like the coffee shop across the university," Wanda opens the door, and the two of you exit together.

You kind of like the fact that Wanda is unbothered about the fact that people stare at her.

Buying Wanda coffee is a pleasant affair. Instead of suffering through a song, you get to know her instead. 

Apparently, the song-o-gram gig is just a part-time day job as at night, Wanda actually owns a bar near the university. 

"I mean, you clearly don't need to do this, so why?" You ask her.

"Keeps me busy during the day," Wanda shrugs.

You have a fleeting thought on how to tell Wanda other ways she can keep herself busy, but she seems to enjoy herself, so you keep strolling along. 

"You have to admit, though," you grin as you stop and turn toward's her, "This is way better than singing, isn't it?"

"You're starting to sound like a music hater," she grins back.

"Not at all, but I will pass on...what did you say it was again Pietro picked?"

"Buy U A Drank by T-Pain," Wanda smirks, and you sigh, smiling back at her.

"Yeah, back to my point, I'll pass."

The coffee outing ends with Wanda giving you another card, but you're left with the sound of her laughter stuck in your head.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Coffee becomes a regular thing for you, and not just on the days Wanda is sent to sing to you.

You find yourself bumping into her often at 2 PM on Mondays and Wednesdays, and 10 AM on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

The arrangement works out better than anything. Instead of songs, Wanda tells you stories about song-o-grams that she has to do. Many of them being way weirder than her showing up at midnight in your empty office on New Year's.

Still, she will let you know what song she was supposed to sing and laughs when you crinkle your nose.

The next time Wanda comes in with a Canadian flag costume and patriotically sings Baby by Justin Bieber.

"What does that even have to do with Canada day?" You grumble.

"He's Canadian," Wanda shrugs.

You're barely half-listening as you text Pietro.

You: Bieber...really?

Pietro: We're all Beliebers, don't lie.

"What happened to our arrangement?" You lick your lips.

"Pietro wanted video proof I sang you a Bieber song," Wanda waves her phone lightly in her hand to show you.

You sigh, "You owe me coffee for subjecting me to that." 

"Hey, just doing my job, but I will still so kindly buy you coffee," Wanda smiles as the two of you make your way to the coffee shop.

You notice a lot of people giving Wanda weird looks, but in their defense, she's wearing a Canadian flag.

You take off your blazer and place it around her shoulders. She pauses, holding the blazer as she looks at you. 

"Maybe waving the Canadian flag around when it's almost July 4th isn't such a great idea," you quirk your lip at her, causing her to slowly smile back.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You see Wanda sooner than you think you would because now it's July 4th, and Wanda has come to drag you out to the beach.

"It'll be a fun party with food. You need food," Wanda tries to bribe you. School's been out for a while, but you got your next semester lined up already, so you've been focusing on making lesson plans and what projects and assignments there will be. 

You just want to finish it as soon as possible, so you don't have to worry about it later, and if the result of that is that you can spend more time with Wanda, you weren't complaining. 

So, somehow you made it to the beach in your zombie induced haze. You'll give it to Wanda that the sun does feel nice along with the mist from the ocean.

You see, Pietro in the distance playing frisbee with his friends that you've yet to meet. The smell of barbeque hits your nose, and you can't even stop the growl that comes out of your stomach.

"Shut up," you say to Wanda when you catch her smirk. 

Wanda's got your beachwear ready somehow (you don't even want to know how she knew your chest size), but you still opt to keep your dress shirt on, unbuttoned, and all.

You get introduced to Clint, Natasha, Steve, Bruce, Thor, Tony, Pepper, god the list went on, you can't even keep track.

At least not with your brain feeling like mush.

You inhale the burgers Steve grilled, getting a little bit of everything on your plate, a little more than you would typically eat, but you notice that Wanda has a habit of taking food off your plate.

"Want to go in the water?" Wanda asks as she slides next to you on the towel under the umbrella.

"Can I take a 30-minute nap?" You sleepily ask, but you're already lying on your back, someone's sunhat on your face.

You're not sure if you're already asleep, and dreaming, but you feel a feather-light brush through your hair.

"We can do whatever you want," you hear, a melody that travels through your dreams.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

True to your word, you do wake up roughly 30-minutes later and find that Wanda is still sitting beside you book in hand.

The slight movement draws her attention.

"Awake?" She turns back to her book to finish the page.

You make a noise that barely sounds human. 

"What are you reading?" You rasp.

"I was reading The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe," Wanda slides a receipt slip in as a bookmark before she closes it. She hands you some water, which you gratefully take as you sit up.

The cold liquid rejuvenates your throat, and you feel a little more awake. 

"Classic, I loved that book," you grin as you throw the water bottle to the side. 

You look around to see Pietro and his friends playing volleyball, and you stretch, looking back to Wanda to see she's smiling lightly at you.

"So?" You start to get up, holding your hand out to her, "Want to go play in the water?"

You grimace a little because you sound like a 5-year-old asking your crush to go play with you, but Wanda just laughs and grabs your hand.

Wanda is an excellent swimmer, and she's mischievous as hell because she'll splash water at you, and also swim underneath to grab your leg and scare you. 

The day passing by incredibly fast, the evening coming with another round of barbeque and roasted marshmallows over a bonfire.

"Wanda," you call as you're sitting next to her. 

She seems like she's really focused,

"Hm?" She hums.

"Your marshmallow is burning and on fire," you say, looking at her treat that has become a black crisp.

You're sure if she peels off the layer, it'll be fine, but...

Wanda sighs, throwing the treat in the garbage.

"Marshmallows suck, they aren't even that good anyway..." she mumbles, and you can't help but chuckle.

You hand over your roasting stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow on it, a little dark chocolate drizzled on it.

"They're delicious, and you know it," you tease, beginning to roast another one.

Honestly, it doesn't even occur to you that you're roasting double the marshmallows and only eating a third of it. 

But this whole day, it never even crossed your mind that you hate sharing food, and you've been doing that all day with Wanda.

After that, everyone settles on their own blanket, you sharing with Wanda on one side, and Pietro on the other as you wait for the fireworks.

"No song today?" You turn to Pietro with a smirk, "That's disappointing."

He laughs as he shakes his head, "A little eager for my love songs, huh? Well, don't worry. There's actually something planned."

You whip your head back around to Wanda, who's whistling. 

"What's the song?" You demand the two of them.

"A classic, baby!" Pietro hoots. "Firework by Katy Perry!"

Your brows furrow.

"Pietro, you already did that one in January,"  you recall.

Pietro squints before groaning as he looks over you to his sister.

"Wanda! Why didn't you tell me?" He accuses her as she shrugs.

"That costs extra," she merely says, and you can't help but laugh.

"Well, I paid for a goddamn song, so sing something else!" Pietro huffs, while Wanda smirks at him.

"She's not even going to hear it over the fireworks, Pietro," Wanda points out.

"Sing louder than the fireworks, duh," Pietro says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

Wanda rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything as the fireworks show begins.

"Any requests?" Wanda says in her your ear, her breath causing you to shiver.

You turn your head, your lips are shockingly close to hers. "Why don't you sing something you'd think I'd enjoy?"

Wanda smiles because over the time she's gotten to know you, she knows exactly your taste, even your guilty pleasure songs.

And with everyone too busy watching the firework show, Wanda leans closer, her breath on the shell of your ear.

"🎶It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you. Is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice. Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry you 🎶"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You think something has changed since Independence Day.

Looking has turned to gazing.

Walking side by side has turned into brushing pinkies.

Hanging out during the day has turned to hanging out at night at Wanda's bar as well.

And no longer singing Pietro's songs has turned to Wanda singing songs she thinks you'd enjoy.

It's a wonderful end of Friday at 2AM, the bar has closed as you walk out with Wanda. It was Karaoke night, so Wanda's leaving with an ukulele, still strumming tunes on it as you walk her home.

"I forgot I owe you a song today," Wanda tunes the ukulele as you reach her place. The two of you take a seat on the steps of her door, huddling close to keep from the autumn breeze.

"Wait, what was the song supposed to be?" You ask with a smile.

"Sucker by the Jonas Brothers," she answers as she finishes her tuning.

You hum. It wasn't an awful choice, and you would listen to it if it came on the radio. 

Wanda turns to you, her lips in that smirk that seems to make your heart skip a beat involuntarily. 

She's strumming on the ukulele, and you recognize the tune to be Kiss Me by The Sixpence None The Richer.

It's something you can't explain. Your stomach is doing flips like it belongs in the acrobatics, and Wanda is looking at you while she sings it.

Her eyes are soft, and you think she's getting closer only to realize it's you leaning in.

And when the song comes to an end, and Wanda isn't backing away, you lean all the way over, capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

Her lips are warm and taste a little like rum from the bar, but God, she tastes wonderful.

She tastes like the best love song there is, a song that doesn't exist yet but has certainly made it to your heart.

And when you pull back, Wanda smiles.

“I’m in love with you,” you breathe.

"Are you finally confessing to me?" Wanda puts her arm around the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss, “Because I feel the same way.”

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Do you ever think about how when you have a crush on someone, the world just seems a little brighter, the songs on the radio sound a little sweeter, even your coffee taste a little better?

Even though school has started again, you've been flying on cloud 9 with the amount of time you've spent with Wanda. 

Kissing has become one of your favorite pastimes. 

Even the way Wanda moans when you kiss her throat sounds like a song. 

It's Halloween, and everything has been progressing perfectly.

"We should tell, Pietro, we can't put it off anymore," you tell Wanda as you help her zip up her costume.

There's a party being hosted at Tony's, and you're getting just a little tired of sneaking around.

Well, you were also really reluctant to tell Pietro you've fallen for his twin sister, but it's not like feelings can be controlled.

Wanda sighs, "I know. We'll find a time to tell him."

You leave it at that because you know Wanda is more stressed about it than anyone, feeling like she's betrayed him.

You have to admit, Tony throws a party like no one else. The entire house is decked out Halloween themed style.

There's even a cauldron that has mist coming out of it. 

It's incredibly crowded, but you spot Pietro and his group of friends in the kitchen doing shots together.

"Ah, you made it!" Pietro shouts as he pulls you in for a hug, lifting you off the ground and spinning around. 

"You drunk?" You ask him with a laugh and brow raised.

"Oh, it's going to take a hell of a lot more than this to get me drunk. This isn't even real vodka," he says, and Tony huffs.

"You idiots drank all the real vodka before the party started," Tony is in some kind of red and yellow metal suit for a costume.

"I even have a song prepared for you today," Pietro grins, and you laugh.

"No days off for your sister, huh? You're a real slave driver," you tease, and he laughs.

"Don't pity her too hard, I'm singing it too," Pietro says proudly with his chest puffed.

"No," you whisper in shock, but Pietro just laughs while Wanda sighs.

True to his words, there's a stage set up in the main room, lights starting as someone comes up to introduce the group.

"Is it a good song, at least?" You ask Wanda, who looks unhappy, she has to go up there.

"Depends," Wanda shifts from one heel to another as she gets ready to go up on stage, "Do you like 2009 Lady Gaga?"

You don't even get a chance to say,  "Oh No," as Wanda is already on the stage.

Pietro points at you in the crowd, mouthing, "For you," with a wink, as you shake your head.

The music comes on, and you recognize it as Monster by Lady Gaga.

You're definitely not sure if this is a song siblings should sing together, although it's not as bad with backup dancers there as well.

When the song finishes, you merely shake your head, clapping along with everyone else.

"You're an absolute dumbass," you tell Pietro, who just laughs.

The rest of the night goes on with drinking, games, and dancing.

There are people apple bobbing, and there's candy everywhere.

It isn't until Wanda is pulling you upstairs, pulling you into the washroom as she shuts the door, that she wraps her arm around you.

"Overwhelming, isn't it?" She asks, and you love that she just knows.

You're leaning against the sink, body humming with Wanda's lip pressed against your collarbone.

You can hear the music thumping through the washroom walls and door, and you can't help but tap the beat against Wanda's spine.

"🎶Here we go again," Wanda huskily sings as she brushes her lips against your skin, trailing upwards until she's at your lips, "I kinda wanna be more than friends, so take it easy on me, I'm afraid you're never satisfied 🎶"

She never gets to finish the song as your leap your head forward, kissing her roughly as you grab onto her hips to pull her closer to you, your leg between her thighs.

"What the hell!" 

The voice interrupts the two of you as you see Pietro has stumbled in, looking shocked, and a little red in the face.

"What's going on here?" He looks between the two of you as you separate, the guilt seeping into the two of you.

Of all the ways you wanted Pietro to find out, this was not one of them. 

"So...I'm kind of in love with and dating your sister," you tell Pietro since there's really no other way to break the news to him now. 

"Are you serious?" Pietro says, and you feel awful because this is the most serious you've ever seen him.

He looks at Wanda.

"Are you telling me that I've been spending money and paying my sister to serenade you for me, but you fell in love with her?" He's glaring at his sister, and she frowns.

"Пойдем со мной, Ванда. Нам нужно поговорить," Pietro says in Russian that you can't understand.

Wanda sighs, nodding, but she turns to you first, squeezing your hand.

"I'll be back, meet me downstairs," she tells you. You want to protest because it wasn't just Wanda that hurt Pietro, but you hold your tongue.

You pass by Pietro, staring at him a second longer before you make it out and back downstairs. It's a little too hard to be in the mood to dance while you're waiting for Wanda.

It's probably a good half hour before Wanda comes back. She doesn't look distraught, so it must've been okay. 

You look at her questioningly, but she merely nods and smiles.

At the end of the night, Wanda has way too many drinks, and you're holding her up as you wait for a cab.

"Hey."

You half turn to see who's there when you see Pietro.

"Hey," you say softly. 

You see him staring at Wanda, and you tilt your head.

"We cool?" You ask.

It takes an extra second for Pietro to respond, but he eventually nods.

"I'm a little wounded. I was pretty convinced we were going to be like a 1985 romance movie, but yeah, we're cool. I'm totally getting Wanda to refund me, though," he smiles.

"Stingy," you snicker. 

And when he's got that goofy smile on his face, you know it's all going to be okay.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The rest of the year passes by with a blur. You happily tell Wanda and Pietro that you got a permanent role with the university, and get one last song-o-gram from them.

After that, Wanda quits the part-time job of singing songs to people and gets a part-time job at the coffee shop that the two of you like.

"I need to keep busy," Wanda tells you when you question why she needs another part-time job after the song-o-gram.

"It's either that, or I'll sit in on your lectures," she gives you a sly smirk.

And you're tempted for a moment.

It's December 31st, 11:59 PM, and the two of you are sitting in your office, and it feels like the first time you met Wanda.

"Sing me a song?" You ask her as she sits in your lap.

"Hm," she hums, "Maybe I should sing you Fireworks by Katy Perry again. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

She's teasing, but you can't help but smile.

"If you're singing it, any song in the world is wonderful."

Wanda looks at you for a moment, licking her lips. 

"Hm," she hums, "I got a different song in mind."

You tilt your head, but Wanda swoops down, biting on your earlobe, eliciting the exact response she wanted from you.

"🎶'Cause I'm having night visions of you and me on the edge of my bed...🎶" she sings in your ear, and your eyes flutter shut.

Truly, Wanda can sing anything as long as they're songs for you.

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: A Thorough Breakdown of All the Marvel Easter Eggs on WandaVision

POPSUGAR: WandaVision has finally arrived, and it’s chock-full of hidden goodies for Marvel fans to devour! While the series is built upon a mystery that we’ll be spending a reported nine episodes trying to figure out, the smallest details in each episode provide clues on where the show is heading. From supermarket banners to foreboding commercials, viewers have an abundance of references and callbacks to classic comic lore and pivotal MCU moments. Are they setting the stage for a big reveal at the end, or are they just fun details included for fans to enjoy? While we try to figure it all out, scroll through to see what we’ve gathered! And check back every week for an episode-by-episode breakdown as WandaVision progresses.

WandaVision Episode 7 Easter Eggs

The episode opens the morning after Wanda has expanded the border of the Hex, finding the Avenger hiding from the world under her comforter. The comforter in question has a hexagon pattern, which is both a nod to the overall theme of the show as well as a metaphor for how Wanda is literally hiding away under a hex.

Billy and Tommy run into the room to reveal that their video game console has been messing up. Everything in the house is glitching, trying to transform back to earlier versions of themselves.

Billy also tells his mother that his head hurts and things are “noisy.” Since the twin inherited his mother’s ability to read minds, it seems he’s able to hear the thoughts of everyone in the bubble (and near it on the outside, since he was able to hear his father when he was dying). It’s a sign that Billy’s powers are growing, which means we could see the little boy reach his Wiccan potential before the end of the season.

Wanda wanders into the kitchen as the news drones on in the background. The news station is called W.N.D.A. or Wanda. The newscaster makes pointed comments, noting that there’s “not a thing weighing heavily on your conscience,” and that they “hope your little ghosts arrived home safe last night. It’s always such a treat to see those creepy kiddos out and about once a year.” The comments refer to Wanda’s building guilt at her actions in the previous episode and the rare appearance of children during the Halloween episode.

As Wanda makes her breakfast of “Sugar Snaps,” a nod to the big Snap of the universe, her milk carton reverts from its modern design to the old school glass bottle and back. The carton has a missing person’s ad on the back with a picture of a little boy on the back. This could be a reference to the oft-mentioned absence of children of Westview, and what could have happened to them.

Wanda and the twins “break the fourth wall” frequently to talk to the camera in the same vein as Modern Family.

This week’s theme song sounds similar to The Office’s, which also usings talking head segments like Modern Family. The opening credits are similar to the show Happy Endings and allude to the show’s focus on Wanda, even attributing the creation of WandaVision to her with the title image. Vision is notably completely absent from the opening credits, but there’s a clue that someone else is watching in a message that reads, “I know what u are doing Wanda.”

Agnes stops by to take the boys off of Wanda’s hands, which the exhausted mother is exceedingly grateful for. The twins are visibly uncomfortable with the idea, with Tommy asking Wanda if they have to and Billy telling his mother that someone has to stay to take care of her. It seems like they can sense that something is off with their “kindly” neighbor.

Wanda sends them off with Agnes, but once they’re gone, her magic goes incredibly haywire. All the furniture begins glitching again, with the stork from the painting in episode three making a reappearance. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” Wanda laments during a talking head segment. “Why it’s all falling apart and why I can’t fix it.” The off-screen interviewer responds, “Do you think maybe it’s what you deserve?” which visibly unnerves Wanda, who notes that they aren’t supposed to speak. It’s another sign that Wanda does not have as much control as she’s been led to believe.

Cue the sixth commercial, and it’s even more pointed than any of the others have been. It’s an ad for the antidepressant Nexus, for “when the world doesn’t revolve around you. Or does it?” The drug allows people to anchor themselves to the reality of their choice with side effects that include “feeling your feelings, confronting your truth, seizing your destiny, and possibly more depression.” Whew, the pointed commentary is even making me sweat. Nexus is a nod to two things: Wanda’s crippling inability to deal with the trauma she’s been through and her depression that’s pushed her into the creation of Westview, and two Marvel comics concepts. The first is the Nexus of All Realities is a kind of gateway point between dimensions from which all universes in the multiverse can be accessed. (Remember, Wanda’s next reported appearance is in Multiverse of Madness.) The second concept is the existence of Nexus beings, people who have powers that can alter reality, probability, and the Universal Time Stream. Guess which two Westview residents are considered Nexus beings? That’s right, Wanda and Vision! The commercial can either be just a cheeky nod to the couple’s seemingly infinite power or an allusion to the bigger picture that WandaVision is leading to.

While Darcy and Vision are attempting to make their way to the house, the doctor gives the synthezoid a brief rundown of his origin story, explaining how he died twice in an attempt to save the world. Vision points out that it seems like someone is trying to keep him from getting home, which spurs him to fly off, leaving Darcy behind in the blocked truck.

Billy and Tommy are watching Yo Gabba Gabba in Agnes’s lowkey creepy home. (It tickles me that Yo Gabba Gabba is more canon in the MCU than the X-Men or Fantastic Four right now.) While Billy pets Agnes’s bunny Señor Scratchy, he notes that he likes being around the older woman because he’s unable to hear any of her thoughts. “You’re quiet inside,” he says, an allusion to the idea that Agnes can hide her thoughts from him because she has magic.

Back outside the Hex, after the super-rover isn’t able to penetrate the field, Monica decides to run through it again. As she struggles through the barrier and we watch her, a montage of dialogue from Captain Marvel plays. The voices of Maria, Nick Fury, and Carol play over Monica getting through, and as Captain Marvel says “when they were handing out little kids, your mom got the toughest one,” Monica she pushes through to the other side. She lands in the stereotypical three-point-stance of all Marvel heroes, and her eyes glow, showing that she can see energy. We just witnessed the rise of Photon, folks! (Or Spectrum or Pulsar.)

Monica confronts Wanda in her home, and as their fight spills onto the lawn, the residents of Westview watch from their own homes. The delivery man is wearing a “Presto Delivery” uniform, a reference to the magic words said by magicians before they pull a magic trick.

In the first blatant show of Agnes’s ulterior motives, the older woman stops the fight when she realizes Monica is getting through to Wanda and pulls the young mother into her home. But when Wanda gets there, she notices the green bug and rabbit in the living room and the lack of her sons’ presence. When she asks Agnes where the boys are, she’s told to head to the basement, where the big showdown occurs. The scene hints at the eventual disappearance of Billy and Tommy.

Wanda notices a book on an altar, which could be the Darkhold, also known as The Book of Sins, The Shiatra Book Of The Damned. Originally a collection of papers known as the Chthon Scrolls, the book contains all the spells and ideas of the evil Elder God known as Chthon. The book is a conduit for Chthon’s power and can open a doorway from Earth to Chthon’s dimension. If that book is in Agnes’s basement, it stands to logic that she may be working with the evil god. The Darkhold emits an orange glow, which is a distinctly different color than the purple of Agatha’s magic.

Speaking of magic, Agnes finally reveals herself as the witch we’ve known her to be. Although the show tells us that “it’s been Agatha all along,” it still doesn’t ring completely true. There’s definitely more at work than just Agatha’s magic.

In the mid-credits sequence, Monica is caught snooping in Agnes’s backyard by Pietro. Her eyes seem to glow purple, the same color that signals Agatha’s magic. Does this mean she’s now under the witch’s spell?

  WandaVision Episode 6 Easter Eggs

The opening credits for episode six seem to be a tribute to Malcolm in the Middle, which ran for seven seasons between 2000 and 2006.

The entire Wanda and Vision family wear their comic book character costumes for Halloween.

There’s another reference to Thanos’s snap as Director Tyler Hayward talks about dealing with the repercussions of all the people “who left.”

The terrifying Yo-Magic commercial seems to foreshadow Vision’s future. Even though Wanda was seemingly able to bring Vision back to life, it looks like he won’t stay alive for long as it’s implied that he can’t exist outside of the Hex later in the episode.

Blink and you’ll miss the fun Disney movie Easter egg on Westview’s movie theater. The sign outside the theater shows a double feature of The Incredibles and The Parent Trap. Connecting right to Wanda’s family, The Incredibles is about a family of superheroes, while The Parent Trap is about a pair of long-lost twins reuniting.

Wanda’s changing accent has been brought up countless times by fans, and in episode six, Pietro makes a slight reference to it when Wanda asks, “What happened to your accent?” to which he quips, “What happened to yours?”

There is another reference that Agnes is actually Agatha Harkness as she is spotted wearing a witch costume on Halloween.

It appears that Vision has no memories pre-Westview, as a conscious Agnes tells him he’s one of the Avengers, and he has no clue what she’s talking about.

The episode further hints at Monica’s powers as Darcy confirms that the Hex rewrote her cells on a molecular level.

A few interactions between Pietro and Wanda have fans wondering if he might actually be Mephisto in disguise. Not only is he fully aware about Wanda creating Westview, but he makes several references to the devil and hell throughout the episode.

  WandaVision Episode 5 Easter Eggs

Wanda and Vision’s brand new house, suitable for a family of four, is reminiscent of homes in ’80s sitcoms such as Full House and Growing Pains.

When Agnes comes in to offer her babysitting help, she refers to herself as “Auntie Agnes,” which is eerily close to her comic counterpart’s nickname, Auntie Agatha.

An uncomfortable break in conversation leads Agnes to ask Wanda if she wants her to “take it from the top.” Though Wanda appears confused for a moment, she readily smoothes the conversation and carries on. Vision is visibly perturbed, though Wanda attempts to redirect his attention. It seems like the facade is fading all around.

To the surprise of their parents, Tommy and Billy age up five years while the two argue over Agnes’s break in character.

This episode’s opening sequence shows Wanda and Vision growing up, which we know didn’t happen in real life for the synthezoid. The theme song sounds very similar to those from Family Ties and Growing Pains, and consists of lyrics noting that “we’re just making it up as we go along.” Sounds pretty close to how things are going with Wanda and Vision!

When Wanda’s scans come back, they’re inconclusive and show up blank. Considering Monica gains her powers due to bombardment by extradimensional energies in the comics, it’s entirely possible that the blast from Wanda back in episode three, coupled with passing through the forcefield around Westview twice, have given her those abilities. We could be seeing the rise of Photon!

While Jimmy Woo is explaining Wanda’s backstory to the agents of S.W.O.R.D., Director Hayward asks if she’s ever used a “funny nickname” like the other Avengers. She hasn’t, in fact, she’s never been referred to as Scarlet Witch in the MCU ever. Since her powers are different from her comic book counterpart, there’s never been a reason for anyone to call her a witch.

That never-before-seen post credits scene from Infinity War has officially made its debut. Director Hayward reveals footage of Wanda entering S.W.O.R.D. headquarters to steal Vision’s disassembled body. The video harks back to a moment in the comics where Vision was kidnapped and taken apart — but still very much alive. Much like that Vision, the one in Westview has his memory wiped and doesn’t remember anything before he woke up in his new world. So, the question is whether Vision is actually alive or not. Wanda’s hallucination from episode four might suggest he’s a walking corpse, but there’s more to the story.

Jimmy mentions that Wanda’s stealing of Vision’s body violates the Sokovia Accords, which haven’t been mentioned since Captain America: Civil War. Unfunnily enough, the Accords were a direct response to the mission gone wrong in Lagos where Wanda lost control of her powers and caused the death of many civilians.

Darcy mentions that Vision is playing “Father Knows Best in Surburbia,” referencing the ’50s sitcom.

Tommy and Billy find a dog that, with the help of Auntie Agnes, they name Sparky. The Vision family has a dog with that exact name in the King and Walta comics, but he’s green. Sadly, he meets a similar fate as his live-action counterpart.

Wanda blatantly uses her powers in front of Agnes, who has seemingly handled the magic around her with ease. It’s almost as if she’s used to magic.

Darcy calls the Westview anomaly the “hex” because of its hexagonal shape. Although the magic has been taken out of the phrase, Wanda’s powers are known as hexes in the comics.

Jimmy, Monica, and Darcy try to understand how Wanda can revive Vision and control the Hex, which takes much more power than she’s ever displayed before. Monica notes that Wanda has always been powerful, being the only Avenger who was close to taking down Thanos singlehandedly, which Jimmy interjects to note that Captain Marvel could as well. Both are empowered by Infinity Stones, with Carol’s Kree biology giving her a power boost.

When Jimmy brings up Captain Marvel, Monica is visibly uncomfortable and changes the subject back to Wanda. What happened there?

Vision’s office mates learn about the sweet glory that is dial-up internet! But when he and Norm open their first bit of electronic mail, it’s a transmission picked up from S.W.O.R.D. talking about the Maximoff anomaly.

Vision breaks through Norm’s conditioning, revealing that he’s under the control of a woman (alluding to it being Wanda). He directly references his family, a conversation that Jimmy mentioned in his notes in the last episode.

The twins have aged themselves up to 10 by this point and are seemingly completely aware that Wanda has control over certain aspects of life, like time. They point out that it was Saturday when they woke up, but Wanda says it’s now Monday. She apparently changed the day to send Vision to work. Is their awareness because they also have magic or because she doesn’t control them?

Monica sends an ’80s drone into Westview after working out that Wanda’s Hex is rewriting reality to suit each era occurring in the bubble, and the drone would need no era-appropriate change. Though she attempts to speak with Wanda through the drone, Director Hayward commands agents to fire a missile at Wanda instead — directly ignoring that Monica said she doesn’t see Wanda as a danger. The action results in Wanda leaving the Hex and confronting the S.W.O.R.D. agents outside. She’s wearing the suit we last saw her wearing in Infinity War and Endgame and has her accent back, although it’s much thicker than it’s been since Ultron.

Episode five’s commercial is more pointed than any of them have been. Lagos brand paper towels directly reference the city in which Wanda accidentally killed several people in Civil War by blowing up a building. Thus, the Sokovia Accords were born.

While Wanda and the twins are searching for a missing Sparky — with no one calling out the fact that Wanda disappeared for some time — the mailman tells the boys that their mom “won’t let him get far.” It seems almost like a dig at how no one can leave Westview, like the doctor mentioned during episode three.

When Agnes reveals that Sparky died after eating too many azalea bush leaves, the boys ask their mother to reverse his death. Agnes seems particularly surprised by the idea of Wanda having that ability despite having seen other displays of her power and watching the twins age up rapidly twice. Wanda tells the twins that they can’t reverse death as there are still rules to things, which almost seems hypocritical considering her circumstances. Is she trying to say that she hasn’t revived Vision? Or is she simply trying to keep her boys from expecting too much from her?

Later that night, Vision reveals that he unearthed Norm’s repressed memories and demands to know what’s going on. He tells Wanda that she can’t control him, which she cooly responds asking him, “Can’t I?” Although the credits start rolling, their argument continues as Vision unleashes his frustration with not knowing his past and his confusion over their circumstances. Wanda tells him that she doesn’t control everything, saying, “I don’t even know how all of this started.” Vision believes it began subconsciously, but chastises Wanda for letting it get that far. Wanda reiterates that she isn’t controlling everything, which gives weight to the theory that there’s someone else behind the scenes. But who could it be if Wanda isn’t the “she” that Norm was referring to?

Mid-argument, the Vision family doorbell rings, which Wanda states she didn’t do. I’m inclined to believe her because when she opens the door, she is genuinely shocked speechless. At the door is her “brother” Pietro, now sporting the face of Evan Peters. Darcy asks the question we were all thinking as the episode closes, “She recast Pietro!?”

  WandaVision Episode 4 Easter Eggs

This episode opens with the heartbreaking reveal that Monica Rambeau was one of the people lost to the Snapture from Infinity War. She returns from Endgame’s Reverse-Snap in a hospital where she had been awaiting news after her mother Maria’s surgery.

As Monica is waking up, we hear familiar voices echoing in her head. It’s Captain Marvel calling her by her childhood nickname, Lieutenant Trouble.

As Monica weaves through the chaos of people reappearing in the hospital post-Reverse-Snap, she finally locates someone who recognizes her. Although Maria survived the surgery five years ago, she died from cancer three years ago in real time, having not been blipped with her daughter.

We finally have some information on S.W.O.R.D.! The acronym stands for Sentient Weapon Observation Response Division, rather than the meaning in Marvel comics, which is Sentient World. It sounds a little more ominous, right?

Maria’s badass legacy continues well past her friendship with Captain Marvel; according to S.WO.R.D.’s acting director, Tyler Hayward, Maria helped build the agency during its inception. She was the acting director until her death.

Tim gives Monica a mission to help out the FBI in the town of WestView, NJ, where something super freaky is going on with a missing person’s case. This confirms that WestView is, indeed, a very real place.

Welcome back, Jimmy Woo! Monica’s FBI contact is none other than Scott Lang’s parole officer and semifriend, Agent Jimmy Woo.

Jimmy reveals that a person in witness protection has somehow dropped off the map in a town that no longer seems to exist where no one recalls anyone who lived there. In an attempt to figure out what’s going on, Monica sends in a S.W.O.R.D. drone that vanishes inside the forcefield. It’s revealed to have transformed into the retro-style helicopter that Wanda picks up in episode two! We can only assume that since it’s an item from the outside world, it gained color when it entered Wanda’s reality to show that it doesn’t belong.

Darcy Lewis is back! Now a doctor in astrophysics, Darcy is called to help figure out what’s gone wrong with WestView. She’s the one who figured out a signal for the broadcast and is the owner of the hand we saw watching Wanda and Vision in episode one.

The mysterious beekeeper from episode two is revealed to be S.W.O.R.D.’s Agent Franklin, who journeyed through Westview’s sewers to investigate. His hazmat suit became a beekeeper’s uniform, and the cable around his waist becomes a jump rope as he travels through the tunnels.

Darcy explains that the sitcom that’s become Wanda and Vision’s life is literally being broadcast through the signals that S.W.O.R.D.’s viewing, with an audience and everything. There’s no explanation for how this is happening, but Darcy and company watched those first three episodes just like we did, credits and all.

Darcy also points out that Vision is supposed to be dead-dead, which leaves his presence in WestView still unexplained.

While Darcy and Jimmy can identity a majority of the neighbors we’ve met in WestView to their real-life counterparts, Dottie and Agnes are the only ones who are missing real information.

It’s revealed that Agent Woo was the voice behind the radio disruption, just as we suspected! But while we can see Wanda and Dottie’s reaction to the call, Darcy’s broadcast didn’t show the same thing. She explains that someone is “censoring” the visuals they’re receiving, which means someone knows they’re watching.

Back in the sitcom WestView, we see that Monica’s slip-up resulted in Wanda blasting her through the house and the energy field. It’s the first time we physically see Wanda using her powers again, so she still has them. But the lapse in her facade has consequences — when Vision returns from his talk with Agnes and Herb outside, Wanda hallucinates him as she last saw him in Infinity War, a corpse with his head crushed in.

It’s important to note that Vision seems to become more aware of the strangeness of their world with each episode. It makes sense because no matter how human he may seem, he’s still a synthezoid who has always been able to see beyond the superficial. It harks back to his “birth” in Age of Ultron. He’s omnipotent and always learning.

When Monica lands back in the real world, all she says is, “It’s all Wanda.” That seemingly serves as an answer to what’s going on in WestView, but it’s not a whole answer. Wanda seems just as confused and unaware as everyone else, but she is willing to stay in her “perfect” world. The question is, who put Wanda in the position to have her perfect world?

  WandaVision Episode 3 Easter Eggs

Much like the comics, Wanda magically becomes pregnant! But this time around, things are progressing much more quickly, and her doctor isn’t Dr. Strange.

The first of the episode’s weird glitches happens with Wanda and Vision’s neighbor Herb, who is attempting to saw through the brick fence separating the two houses instead of trimming his hedges. When Vision points out that his aim has gone a bit askew, Herb’s detached reaction is a bit creepy. He thanks Vision but keeps sawing through the wall! And unlike the previous weird behavior, there’s nothing that triggers the moment, especially not from Vision or Wanda.

Wanda and Vision contemplate what to name their baby boy, with Vision suggesting Billy and Wanda throwing out Tommy. (The argument becomes moot when they have twins!) These are the names of the pair’s sons in the comic, who later become members of the Young Avengers. In the show, Wanda chooses her name because it’s “all-American,” which is also a fair indicator of why her perfect reality is framed around sitcoms. Vision cites William Shakespeare as his inspiration and uses a quote from As You Like It that seems pretty on the nose. “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players” seems like a pointed reference to the fact that WandaVision is, in fact, all a show.

Wanda decorates the nursery using Simser brand paint, which is most likely a nod to Jeremy Simser, a storyboard artist for Marvel Studios and WandaVision.

The second glitch appears when Wanda says the residents of WestView always seem “on the verge of discovering our secret.” Vision has a moment of sobering clarity where he notes that something is wrong in WestView, citing the incidents with Mr. and Mrs. Hart and their neighbor Herb. A second after his says this, reality glitches and the scene starts over with Vision seemingly worry-free. The last time this happened with the beekeeper, it was clear Wanda was the culprit in turning back time, but in this case, she doesn’t seem to do anything to force the change. This suggests someone else is pulling the strings.

Wanda mentions that their child could be human or “synthezoid,” a term that originates in the comics. Although fans like to joke that Vision is an android, he’s technically a synthetic human. He’s not made of metal or machinery — in the comics, his body is composed of the bioengineering tech of Dr. Helen Cho, while in the MCU, he’s made of organic tissue mixed with vibranium and “powered” by the Mind Stone.

Vision jokes that Billy will be just like his mom, which is funny because, in the comics, Billy has magical abilities similar to Wanda’s powers. Tommy ends up having superspeed abilities like his uncle, Pietro.

It’s time for the third commercial! Much like the previous episode’s watch promotion, this break references Hydra — though a tad more directly. It’s all about Hydra Soak, and the message is decidedly more pointed than we’ve had before. “Escape to a world all your own, where your problems float away,” the announcer says. “When you want to get away, but you don’t want to go anywhere: Hydra Soak.” Marvel: Agents of Shield fans will recall that Hydra Soak HAS been mentioned on the show. During the series’s Framework arc, Phil Coulson claims that Hydra is brainwashing people using soap, so he makes his own. Is the commercial another sign that Hydra is behind the mystery of WestView? Is it a warning that no one in the town will be able to get away? And what’s that about finding the goddess within?

The actors in this ad are the same ones as the previous ones, Victoria Blade and Ithamar Enriquez. Their recurring presence might mean they have some significance in Wanda’s life. Maybe they’re her parents?

In what feels like an ominous follow-up to the Hydra Soak commercial, the doctor reveals that he and his wife won’t be taking their trip away after all. “Small towns, you know, so hard to escape,” he mutters, pointedly. I think we’re starting to get the hint, folks! Wanda mentions she is a twin and that her brother was named Pietro. It’s been a hot minute since anyone has talked about MCU’s Quicksilver — he made his debut back in Age of Ultron, the same film in which he was shot and killed.

When Geraldine lets it slip that she knows about Pietro’s death at the hands of Ultron, Wanda interrogates her and discovers her necklace bears a familiar symbol — it’s that damn S.W.O.R.D. logo, and Wanda is apparently not a fan.

In another sign that something is UP, Agnes and Herb seem to warn Vision about Geraldine. They note that she’s “brand new” to town with no family and start to say that “she came here because we’re all —” before they’re cut off. It’s worth noting that the two figures that may be MCU versions of formidable Marvel characters are the ones who seem to understand that strange things are going on in WestView. If Agnes and Herb are the MCU’s Agatha Harkness and High Evolutionary, they would definitely be the ones in the know. But why would they try to warn Vision about Geraldine if WestView is a trap?

Agnes is wearing her infamous brooch as a necklace that could be referencing an MCU supervillain mentioned before. The necklace has three figures close together, with the center figure holding what looks like a giant scythe. Is it another clue that the Grim Reaper is on his way?

Wanda literally throws Geraldine out of town — though she tells Vision that she had to run home — and Geraldine passes through what seems like a magical forcefield. While fans have been assuming WestView is a fake town, this shows us that physically, it’s a very real place. But it’s currently bubbled off with a barrier that Wanda can apparently allow people in and out of. And the song that plays as Geraldine finds herself outside the barrier? “Daydream Believer” by The Monkees. It seems pretty appropriate for a situation that feels like a surreal dream.

When Geraldine lands on the outskirts of real WestView, she’s instantly swarmed by cars and agents all bearing the S.W.O.R.D. logo. Since we know Teyonah Parris is playing the adult Monica Rambeau, it’s safe to assume Geraldine was an alias she used to go undercover in WestView. Combined with the mystery agent watching the show within the show from episode one, we can conclude that Wanda and Vision are being closely observed by S.W.O.R.D. for some reason. But they clearly aren’t the ones in control, since Monica is so easily forced out. What will they do next?

While the opening credits of this episode are a reference to The Brady Bunch, it’s the end credits that give us another clue about the big bad coming our way. Just like the previous episodes, Wanda and Vision are framed in a hexagon as the end credits roll. The symbol is so important because it’s the preferred shape of the creators at Advanced Idea Mechanics, or AIM, who are last seen in Iron Man 3. Remember the beekeeper suits that resemble AIM agents’ clothing? It seems like the evil organization might be making a comeback.

  WandaVision Episode 2 Easter Eggs

The opening credits for this episode aren’t just an adorable homage to Bewitched but a whole bevy of Marvel Easter eggs! The illustration of the moon happens to be surrounded by six stars, and we can’t help but be reminded of the Infinity Gauntlet.

When Vision phases through the floor, there’s a dark shape that looks exactly like the helmet worn by Marvel supervillain Grim Reaper hidden in the space. In the comics, he’s the brother of Wonder Man, whose brainwaves were used in Vision’s creation.

When Wanda goes to the supermarket in the opening, three references hang above the aisle! Bova Milk refers to Bova, the humanoid cow who raised Wanda and Pietro on Mount Wundagore. Auntie A’s kitty litter is a witchy reference to Auntie Agatha or Agatha Harkness, whom we’ve discussed before, and her cat-like familiar named Ebony. And Wonder Mints is most definitely a cheeky reference to Wonder Man, aka Simon Williams, the superhero who Vision’s brainwaves are based on in the comics!

When animated Wanda and Vision settle on their couch, the small figure on their side table is a statue of the Whizzer. Featured in 1982’s Vision and the Scarlet Witch, the Whizzer thought he was Wanda’s father but later discovers he was wrong. Whizzer and his wife were offered the chance to adopt Wanda and Pietro when they were kids on the mythical Mount Wundagore, but they declined.

When Wanda hears a crash outside the house, she heads out to the front, where she finds a colorful toy helicopter in an otherwise black-and-white world. Not only does the red-and-yellow helicopter have the number 57 stamped on it, but it also bears the S.W.O.R.D symbol! The number is likely in reference to Vision’s first appearance in Avengers #57, while the symbol hints to the presence of S.W.O.R.D outside Wanda’s perfect world.

The creepy, cult-like refrain spoken by the fundraiser organizers of it all being “for the children” seems to be a reference to Wanda’s involvement in the comic event The Children’s Crusade. The story follows her son, Billy, who’s trying to gain control over his reality-warping abilities by looking for a missing Wanda.

Well, here’s another blast from the angsty past! The Strücker timepiece is a very obvious callback to Hydra and Baron von Strücker. The watch bears the unmistakable octopus skull symbol of Hydra, and Strücker is the Hydra leader who recruited Pietro and Wanda for the experimentation that gave them powers. He was later killed by Ultron in his prison cell. Does anyone else hear that ticking noise? Remember good ol’ Herb? In the comics, a character named Herbert is also the High Evolutionary who runs Mount Wundagore, the very same safe haven where Bova delivered the Maximoff twins. Time will tell if the super-scientist is the same character, but it can’t be a coincidence.

Wanda and Vision’s magic show has two gems that we’ve noticed! First thing, the literal Mind Stone happens to be the design on the doors of the Cabinet of Mystery that plays a huge part in their act. Second, Wanda and Vision use the names Illusion and Glamour for their actor, which are also the names of the magicians that Vision goes to see in an issue of The Vision and the Scarlet Witch.

Though we all enjoy a good jam, The Beach Boys’ “Help Me, Rhonda” gets interrupted by someone asking, “Who’s doing this to you, Wanda?” And doesn’t that voice sound an awful lot like Randall Park’s Jimmy Woo?

While it may seem weird that Wanda shows her pregnancy in an instant, it’s in line with what goes on in the comics. Wanda uses magic to help her have children, which checks out since her husband is a synthezoid.

Oooh, that mysterious beekeeper! Not only does their presence lead to the reveal that Wanda has some control over the reality they’re in, but it also sets off some alarm bells. Even though the beekeeper’s suit bears the S.W.O.R.D logo on the back, the costume is reminiscent of the yellow costumes worn by A.I.M., a military science organization founded by Baron von Strücker. Could this be a sign that Wanda is being watched by more than one organization? And is this a hint that Hydra is back!? (Obviously, it is.)

  WandaVision Episode 1 Easter Eggs

When Wanda accidentally smashes a plate into Vision’s head, he jokes about his wife and her “flying saucers,” and she comments back about his “indestructible head.” Considering that Vision died after having the Mind Stone ripped from his head, it’s a dark joke to kick off the series.

Vision’s work tie has a visual reference to his comic-book alter ego! In Tom King and Gabriel Hernandez Walta’s Vision, whenever the character dresses as a human, he wears a tie clip that emulates the diamond pattern on his chest.

Vision’s boss, Mr. Hart, is likely named after comic creator Steve Englehart, who created 1985’s The Vision and the Scarlet Witch with Richard Howell, a miniseries that heavily influenced WandaVision. It’s been heavily implied that Kathryn Hahn’s Agnes is the MCU’s Agatha Harkness, a witch who helped train Wanda’s magic back in the ’70s and ’80s.

When Wanda magically saves dinner, the bottle of wine she pours from is Maison du Mépris, which translates to house of contempt or scorn. As fans have pointed out since the trailer drop, this seems like a reference to the House of M comics storyline in which Wanda bends reality into a new world ruled by her family.

The Stark commercial break refers to two things: Avengers icon Tony Stark and his part in Wanda’s dark past. As Wanda and her twin brother, Pietro, explain in Avengers: Age of Ultron, their parents were killed by an explosive Stark Industries device, leaving the twins trapped under rubble. The Maximoffs were trapped by a Stark Industries shell for two days, expecting it to detonate before they get rescued. Even though Wanda eventually fights beside Tony in the future, there’s still some trauma from that experience and her brother’s death. If it weren’t for the Starks, Wanda could have been a completely different person.

The episode closes with a mysterious observer watching the “show” and taking notes on a pad with the logo of S.W.O.R.D. on the cover. For those who don’t know, S.W.O.R.D stands for Sentient World Observation and Response Department and is a subdivision of S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s a counterterrorism and intelligence agency that deals with extraterrestrial threats to world security. Expect to see them around more.

  Press: A Thorough Breakdown of All the Marvel Easter Eggs on WandaVision was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[vaindumbass]

((Here’s a little something for the @flonksfest 2020!! For the prompt of week one: vacation (it’s a bit too late but shh)))

~~~

God, Tonks thinks, aren’t trips to the beech supposed to be relaxing? She looks around, quickly sitting up. Her friends have apparently already gone home while Tonks had been asleep.

Emphasis on had been. She was rudely woken by a beech ball hitting her square on the face. “Hey!”, she yells towards the little girl with the pale blond hair next to her, “Is this yours?”

The girl nods, looking a bit shy. Tonks attempts to throw the ball at her, but it gets caught by the wind. The girl runs after it, and after she’s reached it she looks at Tonks with a toothy smile. Tonks grins back.

Then she closes her eyes and tries to soak in the sun. After the warmth has made it’s home within her core, she slowly opens her eyes again, only to find the little girl staring at her.

Tonks smiles friendly at her, and then goes cross-eyed and sticks out her tongue. The little girl giggles, and tries to imitate her. Tonks raises her eyebrows and opens her mouth in an exaggerated delighted look, and the little girl giggles harder.

Then, and this is where it all goes to shit, Tonks pulls up her nose in a pig-like fashion and wiggles her eyebrows. The little girl laughs so hard that Tonks can still hear it where she’s sitting, and one of the people that had been with the little girl looks up to find the source of her laughter.

This leads to Tonks making eyecontact with the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen. She seems to be the big sister of the other girl, with the same pale hair. She also has gorgeous blue eyes, and she seems almost otherworldly. 

Tonks quickly retracts her hand from her nose, but the damage has already been done. The older sister laughs, with a undertone that is most certainly mocking, and then she walks over to Tonks.

“Hello,” she says, and the french accent only adds to the etherealness of her voice. It definitely has some grounded undertones, though. It sounds, Tonks decides, like the sight of leaves blowing in the wind. “I see you are getting along well with my sister.”

Tonks pretends that she didn’t just embarass herself royally, and says, “Oh yeah?”. (Don’t judge her. It’s very hard to make good conversation on a normal day, let alone with someone as lovely as this.)

“Oh yeah,” The women repeats, “You looked very ridiculous. But that was the point, no?”

Fuck. Tonks thinks her bluntness is attractive. As if it makes her more real, somehow? “Well, your sister liked it!”

That gets a genuine, warm smile from the woman. She must care a lot for her sister. (Cute.) “She did. Should I thank you for that, miss? Or is it mister?”

As always, Tonks feels a little spark of joy at being reminded of how androgynous she looks, even though she is a woman right now. “Miss, for now. But you can always call me Tonks!”

A frown appears between two blonde eyebrows. Tonks wants to smooth it out with her thumb. “For now?”

“Well...” Tonks says, one hand coming up to  rub the back of her neck. “What can I say? Genders are weird.” Please be normal about it, please be normal about it please be normal about-

The women snorts. “Tell me about it.” Wait what. Also holy hell has Tonks been assuming their gender all this time she should unlearn that habit.

“You are..? Although, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to, of course!”

“I am a trans woman, yes.” She holds her head up high, defiant almost, but Tonks just smiles wider.

“That’s awesome! We’ve got to hang out now.”

She blinks. “We... do?”

Tonks nods. “Yep! Do you know how many trans friends I have?”

“Well?”

“Zero. It’s a tragedy.”

The woman chuckles (it sounds even nicer than her voice). “That goes for me, too. I’ll have to tell my parents we’re “hanging out”, wait here.”

“Your... parents?”

“Yes, I’m here with my family.” After seeing Tonks confused look, the woman laughs, “You thought I was here with my sister, but without the rest of my family?”

It sounds kind of weird, now that Tonks hears it aloud. Not that she’ll admit that. “Well, see you soon then. What’s your name again?”

“It’s Fleur.” the gorgeous woman says, and then she turns around, all flowing blond hair and billowing summer dress.

~~~

Tonks took her to her cousin’s place. They took her to other places too, of course, to the park and movies and whatever caught her fancy, but this one felt different.

(It felt like a milestone.)

Not that they showed it. They opened the door as nonchalantly as ever, announced themselves just as loud as any other time, fell only once while taking off their shoes.

Sirius, after hearing the loud thud, said: “Oh, hi Tonks.”

“Tonks and Fleur!” they corrected him, and regretted that immediately the moment his eyes light up with mischief.

“So this is the infamous Fleur we heard so much about.” Great, Remus was there too.

Remus, at least, had the decency to introduce himself before ushering them into the living room. Tonks allowed themselves to relax.

“What a lovely home you have, mi- Remus.” It’s the most polite thing Tonks has ever heard Fleur say, and just for a moment it knocked the wind out of them. What if she did this because of Tonks, to impress their family? It’s a ridiculous thought, one that Tonks found it hard to let go of.

“Thank you,” Remus said, taking a sip of his tea. At that moment, Sirius barged into the living room from who-knows-where, something book-like held high in the air.

Tonks buried their head in their hands.

“Look, Fleur!”, he said, “I found some old pictures of Tonks!”

Fleur accepted it with a smile. Tonks feared for their life.

“They were such a bald baby.” Fleur said, voice full of delight, and Tonks thought it was almost all worth it for that smile. Almost.

“Indeed,” Sirius nodded, “I have this theory that they want their hair to stand out so much because it wasn’t there when they were young. Like a giant sign saying: ‘Look! I have hair now!”

Fleur laughed. Remus added on: “Well, to be fair, they do have hair.” 

“Thank you.” Tonks said pointedly, even though they were pretty sure it wasn’t really a compliment.

“There are a lot of pictures of Tonks hugging you here.” Fleur remarked, her face angled towards Remus. Tonks cheeks flared red.

“Are there?” Remus asked innocently. “Well, they did have a crush on me, after all.”

Fleur sat upright at that. “They did?”

“I’m over it now!” The words left Tonks mouth without their permission.

“Obviously.” Fleur said, one eyebrow raised. What was that supposed to mean?

“It was pretty cute,” Remus commented over his mug, but Tonks just knew that he was smiling smugly from behind it, “They would follow me around, and blush all the time. One time they even dyed their hair the same colour as mine.”

Fleur snorted at that. “What even was the logic behind that?”

Tonks was overjoyed to have an answer to that (not that it was a good answer, per se) “Well, people dye their hair the colour they think looks best, right?”. 

“Right.” Fleur said, amused.

“And seeing as he didn’t dye it, brown had to be his favourite!”

“Not true.” Sirius butted in, “Black is his favourite.”

One of Remus’ hands found its way into Sirius’ black hair. “One Black in particular.”

Tonks threw a put-out look Fleur’s way. Fleur nodded, a motion that’s way too graceful for only being so short. “Guess that’s our cue to leave. See ya!”

Sirius broke the eye contact with Remus purely to yell after them. “Are you going to meet her family now?”

Tonks looked at Fleur’s face, hoping against hope that she didn’t hear it. The hope dissipated the moment they saw the thoughtful look on her face. “You’d have to be quick to do that. The plane leaves in two days.”

It’s a very bright, sunny day, but suddenly a cold crept deep into Tonks’ bones. Two days was not enough time. They need months, years, to get to know this amazing person beside them.

“Tonks? You okay?” 

Tonks willed their heavy expression to dissipate like a cloud for the sun, paying no attention to the puddles it left behind. “Of course! Just zoned out a little.”

Fleur didn’t seem too convinced. Tonks smiles broadly. “Guess I’ll have to be quick! It’s only fair, you not only got to meet my parents, but my cousin too.”

“Yes, your cousin is very nice.”

As Tonks started a long rant about all the times where Sirius wasn’t very nice, they watched the corners of Fleur’s mouth go up, and they decided to savour the moment for as long as it lasts.

~~~

“Why’s your hair red?” Fleur asks. 

She’s laying on Tonks’ bed, in her shitty apartment. Tonks is sitting close to the edge, Fleur’s head so close that Tonks could trail her hands through her hair if she wanted (and oh, how she wants). Fleur is leaving tomorrow.

“Well, remember Charlie?” At Fleur’s nod, Tonks continues. “He’s as ginger as can be, and it seemed a fitting tribute when he left for Romania.”

Fleur hums. “Did you dye it yourself?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotten quite good at it over the years.”

Fleur looks at her hair intensively, as if to see wether that’s true, and Tonks preens a little under the attention.

“Wanna do mine?”

Tonks blinks. “You want red hair?”

“I was thinking of pink, actually.”

Tonks doesn’t answer, but Fleur keeps looking at her, and this is when she realized she hasn’t really answered yet.

“I’ll do it. I’ve still got a full bottle left from last time.”

Fleur frowns up at her. “Will that be enough? I think I want the whole lower half done.”

“I think so?”

Fleur gets up at that. “Where are we doing this?”

“In the bathroom.”

Just before Fleur leaves the room Tonks says: “Wait.”

“What is it?”

“Take this.” Tonks pushes an old, faded shirt into Fleur’s hands. “It’s my dye shirt.” she says under Fleur’s imploring eyes. “It’s already stained and stuff. So that you don’t get anything on your shirt.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

~~~

Tonks has gathered just about everything when Fleur walks in wearing her clothes. It’s as painful as a punch in the gut, but a lot more beautiful. Tonks averts their eyes.

“Is your floor supposed to look like this?” 

Tonks nods, “The newspapers are against stains. They are a pretty permanent part of the bathroom now.”

Fleur smiles, then sits down in the chair, looking as radiant as ever.

Tonks swallows. “I’ll apply vaseline around your face first, otherwise your face will be pink too.”

“Sure.”

Tonks realizes, the moment their hand touches Fleur’s forehead, that Fleur could have easily done this herself. They make eyecontact. Tonks focuses on Fleur’s hairline again.

It’s silent, and Tonks feels as if they should talk, as if they should ask about the millions of things they still want to know about Fleur before she leaves, but it won’t be enough anyway. They stay silent. Until they poke into Fleur’s eye, that is.

“Oh shit. I am so so sorry-”

“-It’s okay, really.”

“-I’m just dead clumsy, but this really wasn’t my intention-”

“I know, okay? I know.” 

Tonks looks into Fleur’s eyes again, so intent to see wether she was hurt or not that they forget about the closeness for a while. Fleur’s face is remarkably kind, and trusting, and she seems... open. “Okay.”

Once again a silence falls, but Tonks has made as much peace with the idea of Fleur leaving as they can (which means that she’s debated moving to France only twice), and they only say something when they are explaining the next part of the procedure.

Sometimes their fingers brush along Fleur’s neck, and they imagine a shiver, imagine it affects Fleur as much as it affects them. (Tonks wants to drop a kiss on her neck)

When Tonks is done she helps Fleur with putting on a shower cap to protect her hair. Then Fleur keeps her head in the same position, face angled up towards Tonks. Their breath catches in their throat.

“What is it?” they ask, softly, as not to disturb this delicate moment.

“The vaseline is still on my face.”

“Oh. Right.” 

Tonks carefully wipes away the vaseline with a paper towel, and they can’t help but notice Fleur’s beauty over and over and over again, in the glint in her eyes, in the arch of her eyebrows, in the smile in her voice.

When all the vaseline is gone their hand travels down Fleur’s face, cupping it. Fleur’s eyes, which had been closed, open at that, and she smiles calmly, before slowly bridging the small gap between their mouths. 

Tonks doesn’t stop her, because how could they? There isn’t a universe in which they could possibly resist Fleur Delacour.

Their back is uncomfortably close to the kitchen sink, but one of Fleur’s hands is carding through their short hair, so it’s fine, really. 

Then Fleur pulls away, just the smallest bit, and her lips brush against Tonks’ as she speaks. “Finally.”

Tonks just stares at her in wonder, until the realization dawns on them. “Shit.” they say.

Fleur’s eyes widen. “Did you not want this? I am so sorry-”

“No!” Tonks says. “It’s not that. But you are leaving soon, and I’m only making this worse.”

And then Fleur laughs. It starts small, but soon enough her whole body is shaking and gasping for breath. “Merde.” She says. “Tu es stupide.”

Tonks glares playfully at her. “I understood that!”

Fleur pays no attention to that, grasps Tonks’ face between her hands, and says: “My family is leaving, okay? I live here.”

“Oh.” Tonks says, and she’s so, so, relieved. They kiss Fleur again, smiling. Fleur is smiling too, so the kissing is far from ideal, but it’s perfect. It’s all perfect.

((also on ao3))

[that-scouse-wizard]

Sightseeing Part Two

`A/N: Welcome to part two of Sightseeing, hope you guys enjoy my interpretation of Liverpool’s wizarding community. All I’ll say for the moment... Scouse Elves.

Also, just a couple of Face Claims for some OCs who are going to appear in this:

Thomas Tremblay Thornwood III A.K.A Old Tom: Mark Addy (also voice claim).

Marcus Jacques: Daniel John-Jules. Voice Claim: Levi Roots.

MC friends: Judith Harris @judediangelo75

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

Judith let out a startled yelp that turned to shrieks as she and David dropped onto an almost-vertical slope, sliding down it and beginning to quickly pick up speed. It was made of a smooth, black marble laced with white lines, bright lights intermittently illuminating the passage. 

Judith however couldn’t have given less of a damn about how it looked in that moment. There was nothing to hold onto except David’s hand, tightening her grip with what felt like near bone-crushing strength. Her friend was the only familiar thing on the slide and she wasn’t about to let him go. 

Although in contrast to her, David was having the time of his life, laughing like a madman. All Judith could do was pause her screaming briefly as she gave him an incredulous look, at least he wasn’t worried. The slope was rapidly becoming less steep, eventually curving until it plateaued. The remaining momentum the two friends had still moved them forward to the end of a short tunnel heading towards a warm, orange glow.

Slowing, then eventually stopping, the two found themselves in a fairly busy pub. Red brick pillars held the building up. The flagstones of the floor were a deeper red, cut into hexagonal shapes and lined black. The tables were fairly small, pushed up against the walls of the pub to make a clear pathway through the building, each one accommodating two to four stools. Lanterns lit with candles, some on the table others levitated around in a fixed pattern illuminated the establishment, giving it a homely feel despite the simplicity.

A long, mahogany bar was being tended to by an unshaven, portly man. His receding black hair was flecked with grey, his stubble already having turned the same colour. 

Behind the bar was lined with various drinks on shelves, most notably though was a pair of broomsticks crossed over one another. Two flags were hung either side of the X-shape. One, like the flagstones, was red with the side profile of a lion in mid-roar painted in black. The other was a smart, marine blue with a white eagle painted on it, also from a side profile with the eagle looking to be in mid-strike as if getting ready to attack its prey. The two symbols were positioned to be facing each other as if their respective mascots were about to do battle.

Quidditch teams clearly, though Judith didn’t recognise them at all. 

David got up, Judith followed, her hand still firmly clasped in his as he guided off the black marble platform they found themselves on. Any interest other patrons had of the new arrivals quickly dwindled. Judith looked around taking in the sight, it was certainly very... red. Finally letting go of David’s hand, she balled it into a fist and promptly punched him in the arm.

“Ow! Judith what was that for?” David yelped, though both the grin and the laugh that accompanied his question made it clear he knew exactly why he’d received it.

“For taking me on that.” Judith hissed, gesturing to the exit of the slide.

David shrugged, “I said ‘brace yourself’.” He responded cheekily.

Judith looked thoroughly unimpressed, “What part of ‘brace yourself’ means ‘I’m going to put you on a bloody death trap?’”

A raucous laugh was what she got in response, though it didn’t come from David. The bartender seemed to be enjoying the show, “Friend of yours, David?” He asked with a chuckle, his accent making it known he was from Yorkshire.

 “She is,” David confirmed, sounding quite proud of the fact, “This is Judith, a friend of mine from Hogwarts. Judith, this is Tom, he runs the pub.”

The old man beamed at the introduction, “Thomas Tremblay Thornwood III, most people just call me Old Tom. Welcome to The Purple Griffin. Is it your first time visiting Under Mersey, Judith?” He asked kindly.

“Yes.” Judith answered quietly, giving a nod. The bartender seemed nice, if a little loud.

“Thought so,” He smirked, “Now, important question, Red or Blue?” He asked, slightly louder, a few patrons and even David looked to Judith expectantly.

“Um...” Judith mumbled, a bit confused as to what the question meant. They were both colours she wore and liked though she supposed did prefer red..., “Red.” She answered, the reaction from everyone who was bothered to listen was immediate.

“We’ve got another Lion’s fan lads!” Tom declared, causing those who had taken an interest to either cheer, others let out groans of disapproval. 

David was one of those who was pleased with her answer, giving her a slap on the back, “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

“Can you at least tell me what choice I made?” Judith asked, really needing some context.

“Liverpool Lions, Everton Eagles,” David said pointing at the red and blue flag respectively, “Both are Liverpool teams and frequently top contenders in the Amateur Division of the British and Irish Quidditch League. They’re fierce rivals with most other teams, but it’s at their worst with each other.” That explained it, Judith only knew of the twelve teams that were considered professional.

“And you support the Lions?” Judith asked, 

“That’s right, had to go with the Reds all the way.” David grinned. 

“Ah.” Judith nodded knowingly, her friend supported Liverpool Football Club, so she supposed it made sense he would be a fan of their Quidditch equivalent.

“In fact...” David began as he started rummaging through the pouch of coins his mother had given him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Taking out six sickles before putting the silver coins on the bar and sliding them over to Tom, “Give us the Lion’s Summertime Specials.” Tom took the silvers with a conspiring grin.

“Take away?” The bartender asked, receiving a nod from David. At that prompt, Tom produced two cold bottles of butterbeer, causing Judith to give both of them a questioning look.

“I thought butterbeer was worth two sickles each?” She asked.

“Not the way Tom does them, watch.” David stated, now Judith was curious. Tom took out two large cups, emptying the contents of the bottles into them before calling out.

“Crocky! I need two pomegranates, and a mortar and pestle.”

“On it Tom!” A high-pitched scouse accent called back. It wasn’t long before the odd assortment of items was floated into the bar from the back area of the pub, guided by a house elf dressed in a starch-white chef’s outfit. His big, grey eyes only glancing at David and Judith briefly.

Judith’s eyes widened at that, the only house elves she had met were treated poorly at best, like slaves at worst. They would never refer to their master so casually, it was unheard of. The fact that this house elf had a healthy, lean build compared to the thin, frail frames of most other elves was another indicator something odd was going on. That wasn’t even mentioning how well-dressed the elf was. Perhaps David would know.

“Thank you.” Tom said to Crocky as he began deseeding the pomegranates, emptying the seeds into the mortar and starting to grind them up. The house elf disappeared back into the kitchens.

Judith watched the sight, curious as to see just what Tom was doing. It took a moment but Tom’s strong arms eventually ground down the seeds into a fine pulp. Mixing the juice into the butterbeer with a wooden stirrer briefly dyed the drink an orange colour. It didn’t last long as the mixture fizzed from the stirring, a scarlet hue quickly overtaking the contents of the cup, causing the foam on top to turn a light pink. 

“Go on then, drink up.” Tom said, looking ready to receive their verdict.

Judith took her cup, intrigued at the idea of a fruity-tasting butterbeer, Briefly knocking her cup against David’s one before taking a sip. It still had a sweet taste to it but lessened from the sour edge of the pomegranate juice. Yet the extra flavour wasn’t overwhelming, in fact it was quite refreshing, more so an ordinary butterbeer.

“It’s nice,” Judith responded positively.

“Good as always Tom.” David said, nodding in agreement.

“Glad I haven’t lost my touch.” The bartender grinned. The deep, rhythmic tolling of a bell from outside suddenly cut in, ringing twelve times before it was silenced, “Sounds like lunch time, you could always have some pub grub but I reckon that you’ll want to show your friend around Under Mersey won’t you, David?”

“That’s right.” David said.

“Well, off with you both then,” He said, making a shooing motion with his hand, “Just remember our motto.”

“Do us harm and we bring the weight of the Mersey down on your head.” David echoed with a grin.

“Exactly. Enjoy your time out there you two.” With that statement from the bartender, the two friends stepped out into the streets of Under Mersey.

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

Judith was impressed, Under Mersey was definitely not like Diagon Alley. It wasn’t just a single alley. This place was an entire town, quite literally under the noses of muggles. 

Yet despite it being underground in a cavern that must have taken years to carve out, yet strangely, it felt no different to how it had been on the surface. It was warm with just the faintest hint of a sea breeze. A huge enchanted lantern acted like a miniature sun, moving slowly in tandem with the time displayed on a prominent clock tower on the southern end of the town. An illusory sky was even being maintained to mirror the weather on the surface.

The streets were a mix of cobblestone and pavements. Most buildings had chimneys that stretched far upwards, acting as support to the ceiling above. Four pillars at the four corners of the town also seemed to assist in holding up the ceiling, yet unlike the chimneys, they didn’t appear to be directly attached to any other building. It was certainly a feat of architecture that wizards had even managed to do this.

It wasn’t simply dull and lifeless though, Judith saw more than a few colourful plants growing either in planters on the streets or accommodated on outside window sills of buildings.

Luckily, David was willing to explain everything to her.

“Basically, we’re right under the River Mersey that runs by Liverpool. Vents on the ceiling and the chimneys are enchanted at either end to filter the air through. It’s why we’re able to breathe, and why the entire place isn’t flooded. The Pillars are where the town gets its water supply from. Pipes run underneath the streets to get it to the buildings. Not bad that it’s still around, seeing as construction began in 1801 and finished in 1823.”

Judith gave an impressed whistle. Whoever had come up with this, and even spent more than two decades seeing it through to completion must have had both ambition and patience.

“So what’s the deal with Old Tom and... Crocky was it?” Judith asked after having a sip from her butterbeer. They had left the building behind as they walked, though it could be easily found again, no other building had the same lavender hue as the brickwork the pub was made out of. Still, she was curious of the relationship between Tom and his house elf.

“That’s right,” David confirmed, “Far as I know, Old Tom is a squib, born to a pure-blood family. Don’t know when he and Crocky met but apparently, Tom gave him that chef’s uniform, Crocky just stuck around as an employee.”

“Really?” Judith asked in surprise. If any owner actually gave their house elf a piece of clothing, chances are they would take it and run. It spoke volumes of Crocky’s loyalty if he truly cared for the person who was apparently his ex-master.

“Yeah, I’ve been around them outside of working hours, the two of them act like best mates. Some even say Under Mersey is actually run by house elves.” Judith looked confused at the last part of David’s statement, causing him to elaborate, “The lantern, the ‘sky’, even the charms on the vents and chimneys? All of it is managed and maintained by house elves. The wizards and witches bring in business and live here. Some are even in charge of overseeing maintenance but ultimately it’s the elves who stop the place from bein’ destroyed.”

“Wow.” Judith said, marvelling at the sights again. She had a respect for the house-elves, putting up with so much. Quite literally holding this place together was just another feat that only cemented that sentiment.

Judith would have loved to explore the town a bit more but for the moment she was starting to feel a bit peckish...

“How about we go get some food?” David said.

Judith grinned at her friend practically reading her mind, “Sounds good, let’s go!” With that prompt, David guided Judith closer to the centre of the town.

This part of Under Mersey was by far the most active and Judith could see why, it seemed to be where most of the town’s shops were located. A wandmaker, a book shop, and practically every other kind of shop a wizard or witch could need. 

A stone fountain was the centrepiece for the town square. Two cormorants that towered over people, being at least eight feet tall. They faced away from each other, one looking west, the other looking east, the tips of their outstretched wings almost touching. A sprig of seaweed was clasped in their beaks.

However, both friends wanted to follow their stomachs at the moment and they certainly had options...

Looking one way, Judith could see that an odd assortment of restaurants had been packed into a single long street, thronging with people eager for lunch.. Chinese, Indian, Turkish. Spanish, Greek, French. Those were just some of the ones Judith noted. 

Yet despite the range of mouth-watering scents. the tempting food on display and even the occasional encouragement from a place’s owner, there was just one that really caught Judith’s eye.

A lot smaller when compared to the other restaurants, hanging above its doors was a string of flags. One of which was had three stripes blue on both sides, gold in the middle, with the head of a black trident in its centre.

That was the flag of Barbados, accompanied by flags of the other Caribbean islands. Above them was the name of the restaurant, only confirming Judith’s suspicions, Jacques’ Caribbean Cuisine. Judith knew exactly where she wanted to go, making a b-line for the restaurant as David followed close behind.

“Welcome,” A friendly tone was the first thing the pair of friends heard. Greeting them was a somewhat tall, lean and dark-skinned man. He was balding with a greying goatee, the hair he had left turning the same colour. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood despite his restaurant being empty in such a rush, “What can I interest you kids in today?”

Judith perked up at the man’s accent, it was similar to her Barbadian one, he definitely wasn’t British, “Where are you from?” Judith asked the man excitedly.

A bit confused at his question not being answered, the man responded, “Jamaica, and yourself?”

“I’m from Barbados.” She answered proudly, the man’s eyes went wide at that.

“Really? Girl if I was born a few decades later, you and me would have practically been neighbours!” He said enthusiastically, Judith grinned at, “And you boy?”

“Local.” David answered proudly, gesturing above..

“Ah, good, I like Liverpool. Think it’s a good city.” He said in approval, “Marcus Jacques, I came over here on request of the Ministry about thirty years ago. I was about twenty then, I’m fifty now.”

“Wait, I think I’ve heard of you,” David said in realisation. Judith looked at her friend curiously, “You started all of well... that outside.”

Marcus took on a smug expression at that, “Right you are, I got shipped up here by the Ministry, I was asked to come over after that war the muggles had in the fourties and decided the food this side of  the wizarding world could do with a bit more variety. Now don’t get me wrong, British food can be nice. Crocky at the Purple Griffin makes a great shepherd’s pie but I needed something to remind me of home. A couple more people got interested in the idea and we thought it would be nice to set up in the local community.” The man let out a chuckle, clearly reminiscing. David and Judith listening intently for him to continue, there was always a ‘but’ in these situations.

“See, a few in the local Ministry at the time were quite insular about new things coming in, they kicked up a fuss. We kicked up a bigger one and what you see outside is the result of the wizarding community here using the cultures right on their doorstep not too much differently to how the muggle side does. Anyway, enough of an old man’s ramblings, how about I give the two of you a taste of the Caribbean?”

“Yes please!” Judith said, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, “Do you serve brown stew chicken?” 

“’Do I serve brown stew chicken?’“ Marcus echoed back in a playfully sarcastic manner, “Of course I do, I’ll get right on it.” Yet he didn’t ask David what he wanted, “For you boy, I’ve got something special. Call it a Caribbean twist on something considered British.” 

Judith looked eager as she took a seat while David shrugged in acceptance. The owner leaving the two friends alone as he set to work in the kitchen.

“So, what do you think of your first time in Liverpool?” David asked eagerly as he sat across from his friend. 

“It’s... nice, I’ve had fun so far,” Judith answered honestly, “Though, can I ask something?”

“Yeah go on Judith.” 

“Can we plan these holidays in advance next time?” David looked perplexed at the question, “Please, David.” She quietly begged.

Though he was still a bit confused, David knew Judith wouldn’t just ask him a question like that out of the blue. He was sure she had a good reason, “Of course  we can Judith, whatever you want.”

Judith looked immensely grateful for his positive response, “Thank you David. You know, one of these days, I’ll have to take you to Barbados. It’s a beautiful country, white sandy beaches, lush greenery, the sea shining like sapphire.” She stated, clearly proud of her homeland.

David gave her a smile, “I’d like that, and now that you’ve described it for me, I’ll have to go.”

“To our future holidays?” Judith asked, raising up the half-full cup of butterbeer. 

David raised own, though his was almost empty, “To Liverpool, Lancaster and Barbados... one of those destinations is not like the other two.” He finished with a chuckle. Judith had to laugh as they knocked the cups together. From there on, the two settled into a content silence, it wasn’t long before Marcus came by with their food.

“Hope you kids enjoy.” He said, placing their meals and cutlery in front of them. 

Judith’s was several pieces of chicken covered in a rich, brown gravy that contained pieces of carrot and onion. Served with fluffy, white rice that soaked up any of the gravy was in contact with. 

David’s was comparatively simpler. It looked like fish and chips, strangely, the fish was in pieces. The batter looked crispy and light but was flecked with spots of red. The accompaniments... looked like very thick-cut chips but they just... weren’t.

“Saltfish fritters, and boiled and fried breadfruit.” Marcus confirmed.

Judith had already begun tucking in to her food, clearly enjoying it, “Mmm.” She managed to hum to satisfaction through a mouthful of food, giving a thumbs up.

David cut a small piece off the fish with a particularly prominent red fleck. It was nice, the batter was crispy, the fish soft with a distinct taste of salt. Then... hot... it was spicy. David began panting like a dog as he felt his nose starting to run.

“Oh no... I think he bit into a piece of scotch bonnet.” Marcus realised, “Hang on, I’ll get you some yoghurt.” It would be the only thing that could relieve the spiciness.

While Marcus sped into the kitchen again, Judith couldn’t help but laugh a bit at her friends misfortune, “David you’re a beater, and you can’t handle a bit of spice?” She chuckled, David couldn’t even muster a retort, just glare, causing Judith to let out another laugh, “Hey this is what you get for surprising me with how you got us here.”