#really hoping Red Canary can show more of her personality

[anxiouspotatorants]

It is time. It is finally time for the new Suicide Squad rant (and spoilers will be plentiful):

As someone who was into DC Comics and comics in the mid to late 2010s and had so much hype for the first Suicide Squad movie only to be let down, I was so nervous for this one. I knew it was going to be a roller coaster, but whether I would come out happy or disappointed was up in the air. Having just seen it I will say this: I have no idea if this was a good movie-movie. It was insane. The comedy. The violence. The high emotion. I’m still trying to take it all in. But one thing I do know is that this is an amazing Suicide Squad movie. Gunn and co took the best parts of the comic concept and went batshit with it and that is how this property should be handled (in my opinion). Screw edgelordisms, we need full on insanity free of aiming for shock-value or sexy brutality we want chaos baby.

Starting the whole movie as they did, with Savant as the POV for a mission (or part of the mission) that just goes to hell immediately and kills off so many before the title arrives is the perfect way to start this movie. Like the second I realized this was how they were doing it I was just smiling from ear to ear, this is the spirit of the property.

Part of me wishes we got more Amanda Waller, but what we had was impeccable. Then again, this is Viola Davis we’re talking about, and if she was born to play any character in a superhero story, it is Amanda Waller.

And points to her tech team, introducing them with the death bets was just a lovely way to show how regular this is and how awful everyone is in this movie.

I’m not going to pretend like Deadshot and Bloodsport didn’t have the exact same character- and plot premises… but I will say that Bloodsport felt better executed.

I love that they kept some of the past members and not just Harley. Rick Flag got to have a full personality and interactions with his team members and to be a true leader and it made me so happy for someone who initially did not give a single shit about his character. The Harley friendship? The Dubois friendship? The friendship with that guerilla leader? Amazing. The one American soldier in fictional media I genuinely like. You go Mr Flag.

The new members were… they were insane in the best way. Gone are the shitty stereotypes and present are some of the wackiest creations to ever grace the mainstream movie-sphere (aka the slightly less normal comic creations): A man who has to shoot out polka dots two times a day so as not to die from a space virus. A giant child murdering weasel. A guy who detaches his limbs and slaps people with said detached limbs. King Shark. The second person to command rats with a fancy gadget. They are all crazy and all weird and all more or less morally repulsive people and I love them.

The amount of times I did a double take over the soundtrack I swear. Jessie Reyez? The Pixies? It was so much fun to pick up on once I did.

Was the depiction of a vague Latin American country stereotypical? Yes. Was the secret American involvement predictable and felt mildly patronizing from a non-American, part Latina point of view? Yep. But damn it if I didn’t have a good time with those stereotypes and laugh my ass off at how well executed some were. I don’t know if it was meant as parody, but that one secretary has me thinking so — and if so I am pleased.

Speaking of Latino dictators Harley’s one day romance with one of the villains was something I never knew I needed. Like it was so perfect for Harley that when it happened I almost hit myself for not realizing that this kind of plot should be a normal thing for Harley. And the end of it? Perfect not only in this standalone movie, but also in conjunction with the first and with BoP.

The Taika Waititi cameo??? Oh my god??? I did not expect that and I love it?? Sir, What We Do in the Shadows is impeccable.

Rick Flag’s death actually surprised me. It shouldn’t as this is Suicide Squad, but I kind of expected him to be on Harley’s level of unkillable (because let’s face it, no one kills Harley). What I will say is that his death was good and his final words and actions made me love him all the more. I hope this spawns more Rick Flag content, or at least inspires me to look at what already exists, if he already is as this movie made him (it’s been ages since I read one of the Suicide Squad reboot comics okay).

Starro. How can a villain be so wacky and so terrifying at the same time? I did not expect a literal alien starfish to have more terrifying powers and a more tragic plot execution than Enchantress. But here we are. And that damn star just wanted to be floating in space, and instead it was stuck getting revenge by killing and puppeteering human corpses. Wow that thing was creepier the more you think about it.

I don’t know what I think about Polka Dot Man. I loved watching him on screen but also damn those mommy-issues were on a new level. Not just in his backstory but how he literally sees her in every person around him that was insane. Very funny but like also the kind that makes you laugh just because you’re uncomfortable and don’t know how else to releive the tension.

When Waller got knocked out by a staff member I immediately thought «oh my god Amanda Waller is going to kill half the staff for this», so I’m mildly surprised and disappointed that I didn’t get to see that happen. But also I should maybe expect something like this in a potential future Suicide Squad movie. We can’t have everything in a movie as packed as this.

Peacemaker was very horrible and worked really well. Don’t really have much to say about him, not because I didn’t enjoy him but because I already feel like the film itself has said it for me. But the planting and payoff for his death? Chef’s. Kiss.

Harley’s wardrobe was beautiful. Ratcatcher 2’s combat outfit felt like a steampunk plague dream. Bloodsport’s mask was supercool. Rick Flag’s t-shirt was amazing. But the best little outfit was the Mafalda-keychain and her red dress, hands down. Oh and King Shark’s fake moustache finger moment.

King Shark is shaped like a friend I don’t care how many people he ate alive on screen he looks so huggable. It feels like wanting to pet a bear. You know it will kill you but damn it look at those paws and those cute eyes!

I really need to give it to not just James Gunn but the entire production team for this movie. The aesthetic was perfect. The story was the right blend of whimsical and violent. The finished product was a literal rollercoaster and I mean that in a good way. If superhero movies have to be like amusement parks, I hope they’re more like this one and BoP.

I’ll finish on the note that while I think this movie was great and hopefully a step in the right direction for the DCU/DCEU (as in stop trying to play Marvel’s game and just do your own thing/ let your creative teams run wild and free), it is not the first step. Cathy Yan, Birds of Prey and the production team for it took a step first, and they deserve due credit and attention. If you loved this Suicide Squad movie and haven’t watched BoP yet, do so. Because they really are in the same ballpark while doing things in slightly different ways. And any good DCEU movie deserves more attention so the studios know that creativity and risks should be rewarded. I want more DC movies like this, not necessarily in genre but in creative risks. I want a Black Canary rock movie. I want Alfred in a reverse heist movie alone in the batcave against Gotham villains. I want Gotham Academy on screen play by play from the comics. I want a fully animated psychedelic-like Khalid Nassour as Dr. Fate movie. I want elevated horror movie Constantine. I want weird ass Lois Lane journalist movies with a heavy side of Superman. And I want DC movies I didn’t even know I wanted.

Support creativity in mainstream comic movies. Help me become a DC fan and happy about it again.

[redorich]

In the HermitCanyon au, How is my favorite Bee armored Admin doing? How long does it take for Xisuma to become.. aware of what is happening? For the first few sections it seemed like he was in a coma/unconscious. In the most recent bit Impulse tells Etho to get Xisuma, so at least theoretically he can now move, but how long has it taken him to get there, and where is he on the scale to full recovery? Are the other hermits keeping him safe with rabbit stew? (if they have rabbits that is...)

Part 2 of this.

Etho comes back twenty minutes later with a solemn look on his face. (At least, Puffy assumes. She can't actually see most of his face because of that mask of his.)

"X is in a bad way today," he says quietly. "I can take Puffy to him if you guys would like to stay here with Zedaph."

Impulse and Tango look nervously at each other. On one hand, they very much would like to stay with Zedaph, who is mostly healed but still very loopy and probably should not be moved. On the other hand, allowing Puffy deep into the Hermits' inner sanctum is a risk in and of itself, let alone with only one Hermit with her. Etho's a good fighter and a wily bastard, but Puffy is most certainly no slouch.

In the end, it comes down to trust. How much can they show Puffy before they can no longer trust that she won't snitch? How sure are they that she won't try to kill them all and steal their stuff?

"Tell Xisuma I said hi," Zedaph warbles from the bed in the corner of the room, out of any window's line of sight.

As Etho presses a button which removes a panel of the wall in a whir of piston noises, Puffy snorts out a little laugh. "I'll be sure to do that."

Tango nods subtly to Impulse. If Puffy brought Zedaph back to the canyon, saved him from a painful respawn, and didn't once ask for anything in return, then the Hermits can trust her at least this much.

Etho leads Puffy through a short hallway into a large circular room with a domed ceiling. The room is mostly quartz, though the walls are lined with sea lanterns and oak leaves. It’s beautiful. This place has been hiding under her feet this whole time?

“This is the Atrium,” Etho says, “or at least the main one. Come on, getting a mule will be more trouble than it’s worth if you’re not carrying anything.”

Puffy is speechless, utterly and profoundly, when Etho takes her through a tunnel on the opposite side of where she entered. It almost looks as though the tunnel here was carved by hand, then completely redone in dirt and grass and vines to give it a secretive, high fantasy look.

“Hey, Etho!” says a dark-haired man with a big smile as he comes trotting out of a branching hallway to the left. “Hey--” He catches sight of Puffy and his smile dissipates into panic. He shouts incoherently and dives back into the hallway he just exited.

“Hey Bdubs,” Etho greets impishly, then turns to Puffy. “Man, it’s like he saw a ghost or something. Maybe Mothman.”

Puffy bleats out a surprised laugh. Up ahead, she spots another Hermit lurking around the corner of the archway Etho is leading her toward.

“Etho,” says a tall blonde woman. “Cleo wants to talk to you about, er...” The blonde woman glances at Puffy. “Her thing,” she finishes lamely.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a bit busy at the moment. Would you mind telling Cleo so she doesn’t skin me alive?” Etho says sweetly.

The blonde woman snorts. “Face the music, Mothman. I’ll take care of Puffy from here. I assume you’re taking her to Xisuma?”

Etho wilts. Clearly, whoever this Cleo person is, she’s not someone to piss off. Puffy wonders what Etho did.

“See ya around,” Etho waves, somehow both cheery and morose at the same time, like a funeral for someone nobody liked. Puffy and the blonde woman watch him go.

“My name’s False, by the way,” the blonde woman says. “Thanks for the bandanna. Normally I’d be wearing it, but I just got back from beating up Iskall.”

The woman-- False-- laughs. Puffy is once again taken aback by the idea that the Hermits actually use the items that she makes for them. 

False takes off in a brisk walk toward the archway she’d come out of. Jumping a little bit at being torn from her thoughts, Puffy hurries to follow. It’s hard to keep up, since all Puffy wants to do is stare. She must be in the living quarters-- they let her in the living quarters?! Each door matches the high fantasy, underground sort of aesthetic, but a few doors are left open and each one is remarkably different on the inside. One room is built entirely out of red and white concrete, whereas another is Nether-themed with actual fire, and the room down the hall is entirely underwater!

One door is different. It’s got blue-purple banners along the frame, and when False opens the door for Puffy, she can see that the room is made of blackstone bricks. Maps of the Dream SMP line the wall, and in the center of the room there is a mildly ornate table made of warped wood.

At the end of the table in the back of the room, opposite the door, sits a trio. To the left, there is a plain-looking man with a beard and an “at” symbol on his shirt. He speaks in a Southern accent to a man on the right side of the table, who wears a red sweater and twirls a feather between his fingers like the cat that got the canary.

In between the two, at the head of the table, rests someone very unique. He’s obviously tall, that much is obvious even when he’s sitting down. He’s also got mesmerizing purple eyes which glow faintly against the dark of the blackstone. Puffy doesn’t know why, but she gets the feeling that they’re supposed to be glowing much brighter.

As taken by the man’s eyes as she is, Puffy doesn’t notice the non-invasive breathing tube the man also has (a cannula? She doesn’t know what it’s called, but that sounds right) until the man’s gaze falls upon her, still standing in the doorway next to False.

“Oh,” the man says. “You’re not supposed to be here. Welcome.”

False steps forward, breaking Puffy from her trance. “Puffy, this is Xisuma, Joe, and Grian. I’d introduce you to them as well, but... you know.”

“I don’t know-- oh,” Puffy says awkwardly, catching sight of the massive crochet blanket she’d made for the Hermit months ago, draped across Xisuma’s shoulders.

“Why are you here?” Grian asks with a tilted head. “No offense or anything, but I just lost a bet. I had three diamonds on Cub bringing you in here eventually-- he’s the one you usually meet at the barrel, you know.”

False interjects, “I didn’t bring her down here, it was Etho!”

“Shoot,” Joe says. “Cleo wins yet again.”

“It was Zedaph, actually,” Puffy says. All eyes turn to her. “I found him on the surface. He was really injured, so I brought him back here. Impulse and-- Tango? Yeah, Tango-- told Etho to take me down here.”

Puffy uncharacteristically twiddles her fingers a little bit, feeling in over her head. “Uh, you know I’m not gonna tell or anything, so... Why am I here?”

The full weight of Xisuma’s piercing stare falls upon her. Even as fragile as he looks, even as strong as Puffy is, she feels a jolt of apprehension.

“You’d know more about the red vines than we do,” he begins. “Etho mentioned that they’re what hurt Zedaph; he’s mentioned them on multiple occasions, and never in a good way. How long do you think it would take for those vines to reach our village, and what do you think would happen once they do?”

“As far as we’re aware, there are several players who are proponents of the vines, and claim they originate from some sort of egg?” Joe adds. “I’ve had a hard time calculating how big of a mushroom we’d need to make an omelet out of the egg, but apparently most of my fellow Hermits do not in fact want evil eggs on their omelets.”

“And how come the End is inaccessible?” Grian cuts in with a whine. “I want my elytra.”

Xisuma huffs a laugh into the cannula. “As you can see, we have many questions which only a native Dream SMP player like yourself can answer. In the interest of keeping ourselves safe--” he trails off into a coughing fit.

Puffy bites her lip, feeling as though she really shouldn’t be seeing this. Joe rests his hand on Xisuma’s back.

“You give us answers, and we’ll give you diamonds, netherite, whatever you want. And when we move out-- well, it wasn’t much of a secret anyway-- we’ll offer you a safe place with us,” Grian speaks up on Xisuma’s behalf.

A thousand thoughts spin inside Puffy’s head. She feels like Dorothy in that tornado, and Grian’s offer is the Wicked Witch. “Did you guys really save Tommy’s life?” she finds herself asking.

The Hermits seem taken aback.

“The blond kid?” False asks. “Yeah, but he was unconscious the whole time. I think Scar told the kid to keep us a secret, but... I don’t think any of us expected that to actually work.”

Puffy laughs disbelievingly. “He’s the one person on the entire server who keeps insisting that you guys aren’t real.”

“That’s good to hear,” Xisuma says quietly. “Do you have an answer for us, or would you like some time to consider?”

There are a thousand and one variables Puffy needs to think about. What is Dream’s stance on the Hermits? Who will she be setting herself against by allying with the Hermits? What will Puffy have to expect, from both underground and surface-dwelling players alike? Which players can she take in a fight?

Fuck it, she thinks. “You’ve got yourselves a deal.”

Xisuma smiles. Despite his ill condition, she gets the feeling that this nice, mild-mannered man is far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be.

“I’m glad to have you on our side, Puffy,” he says. “Thank you for your help.”

[stxleslyds]

you know how dc keeps forcing this sudden "we're a family" narrative out of nowhere? I'd love batfam content but years of hurt among them make the recent content seem unearned.

bc you know more about dick and jason than the others, how do you think they would realistically become family to each other, or would it even be in character for them to be the "bros" they're written as now?

Oh anon, this question is amazing, I love it! I saw it when I woke up and since then my brain has been brewing this answer, I was thinking about it as I brushed my teeth and as I was making breakfast, and now I am ready to give you the answer, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed thinking/writing about it!

DC keeps forcing the wrong relationships, and they keep forcing the wrong centre of this supposed family, they make it out to be the Bat-Family when in reality the Bat (Bruce) should have never been invited to this party.

This is why I give you the… Dick-Family!

Oh yeah baby, I am going there. Dick is the centre of this “family”, he is the guy who is actually connected with everyone, he has been around for so long and he has been present when almost all of the remaining characters were introduced! Bruce might have come first but that guy has nothing on Dick Grayson.

Dick has cared and loved for everyone in this family in a true and beautiful way, no matter how much fanon and DC try to tell us otherwise. This man was an amazing son to Bruce and Alfred (my love for Alfred and Dick is brought to you by @hood-ex), a fantastic brother to Jason, Tim and Cass as well as a phenomenal father/older brother to Damian.

Dick Grayson is the centre of this whole thing, and thanks to DC now being an Omniverse I will be able to explain my line of thoughts. But first let me clear some ideas up.

The way I see it Jason would only get along good enough with Dick. I am not here for Jason and Tim having brunch together (honestly, Lobdell, what were you thinking), Jason never cared for Tim, and then writers that didn’t know how the Red Hood worked made him try to kill Tim so, to me, that relationship is non-existent, Jason doesn’t really perceive Tim (yet).

Jason and Damian, listen, I know that there is this fanon theory that Jason knew and cared for Damian while he was in the League, but that is just fanon talk and it doesn’t really fit in canon either. Jason wasn’t really capable of doing much other than fight, and after he was put in the Lazarus Pit he either had to leave because Ra’s wanted to kill him or Talia took him to the All-Castle. So, Jason’s only real interactions with Damian would be when Jason was written as a crazy, blood thirsty dude that actually tried to harm a child. So, him and Damian wouldn’t really have a good relationship (yet).

Jason and Cass… that’s just a no. Jason and Barbara, I mean Barbara was older than Dick when she first met Jason, so they wouldn’t have much of a relationship.

Now, lets move on to how I will make the Dick-Family work.

Dick (bless him) actually talks and listens to people, unlike Bruce, so the change would start there. Let’s set the timeline, I will stand right after the events of Under the Red Hood. Bruce just chose saving Joker over letting Jason kill the Joker and the building they were in exploded.

Batman keeps on being himself (trash) and Jason, having survived the explosion, moves on to keep on building his empire. He really wants to control the drug trade in Gotham, so he works on that, he slowly but surely takes his place as a drug lord again and is a constant pain in Black Mask’s ass.

While Jason is doing that, Dick is trying to put together his life after Bludhaven was attacked with Chemo. Let’s say that Bludhaven isn’t completely erased from the map but he does have to leave so the city can be re-built. He goes to Gotham, where the Red Hood works.

Let’s say that Alfred told Dick who was under the Red Hood, so Dick being a good brother goes looking for Jason. Their first interaction out of the mask wouldn’t be nice, Jason barely remembers his life before the pit and he really is convinced that Dick is the absolute worst.

But then Jason being a nosy man would make an appearance, for some reason, let’s say that he hacks into the Batcave and when he does that he finds some footage… The footage in question would be the one which shows Bruce punching Dick and sort of blaming him for Jason’s death. (Oh yeah, I am going there). The footage will make a memory come to mind, Dick taking Jason on a skying trip.

So, the next time that Dick and Jason see each other is because Jason went looking for Dick and here is where these two actually talk. The way I see it, Dick is more flexible with the no killing rule, he has worked many times with people that are villains or that just have different ways of doing things. So, I think that he would understand where Jason’s coming from with his ideas. As they begin to understand one another Jason begins to recover more and more memories from before the Pit.

They get together once a week and they chat about life as well as vigilante stuff. They become friends.

At the same time Dick is also very good friends with Tim and also acts like the amazing big brother he is with him. They chat, they sometimes work together and one day they come across a very complicated situation involving a new drug being introduced in Gotham.

Dick would call Jason and now both of them and Tim are reunited in a safe house working together so this new drug doesn’t fall in the wrong hands. Jason and Tim wouldn’t really like each other. Both of them are there for Dick and because they have to get the job done.

That’s how I see Dick forming the Dick-Family unconsciously. Hell, I will introduce Barbara now. Do you guys remember that in UtRH Barbara was mad with Bruce and didn’t want to work with him but she was still in contact with Dick? Well, I am using that so it can fit my narrative.

Dick, Jason and Tim need more intel so Dick calls Oracle (real Oracle) and because Barbara trusts Dick she works with them.

Here is where it gets interesting, through Barbara, Dick meets Cass, through Tim he meets Stephanie. You see that Dick’s connections are leading him to form a group of people. Cass and Stephanie are trained by Babs and Dick and they become the new Batgirls.

As all of that keeps developing Jason and Dick become “partners in crime” they help each other, they start building a brotherly relationship again. Although Jason refuses to say that out loud.

Then comes in Damian, a difficult child if there has ever been one but he has Bruce so Dick doesn’t have to jump in that fast… right?

Oh brother! Bruce is dead (omg what would we do? Battle for the cowl maybe? No!). with Bruce gone there is only one person who can take his place and everyone knows it has to be Dick.

Dick would feel a lot of things as he is taking Bruce’s place as Batman but he has a group of people ready to back him up (Alfred, Jason, Tim, Babs, Cass, Steph), and he also has to take care of Damian, he is a child and with his father gone then maybe his mother would want to take him back to the League of Assassins, Dick obviously doesn’t want that so he talks to Tim and tells him that he sees him as his equal and that he has a plan to make Damian stay and it involves making Damian his new Robin.

Tim would obviously be sad and a little hurt, but he understands Dick’s decision because they talked about it and Dick actually took the time to explain why he was doing what he was doing (really DC half of the problems you guys come up could be fixed in seconds if people would only take some time to just TALK!).

Dick and Damian work as Batman and Robin and Dick starts assuming the position of his father. They would live with Alfred in the penthouse and maybe Tim will join them from time to time (when he wasn’t busy with Young Justice/Teen Titans stuff). Slowly Dick and Damian will become the Dynamic Duo that we love today.

So, Dick would have his own Robin, Oracle (who is also managing her own team with Black Canary and (why not) the Batgirls), Red Robin and Red Hood working with him if he needs them. They are always a call away. Jason is the most difficult to reach and he will only involve himself in that kind of drama if its about controlling the drug trade or scaring the living shit out of some very shady people.

So, Red Hood wouldn’t be working with the new (and improved) Batman but Jason would hang out with Dick sometimes.

From there they build up. Dick renovates Arkham Asylum and makes it work they way that it is supposed to work. He might also recruit Catwoman when he needs someone really sneaky, they have known each other for so long, I bet Selina loves Dick, she would certainly help him out.

But as all things do, this happy and well-connected Dick-Family is disrupted when Bruce comes back, he inserts himself slowly back into his role as Batman and as he does that Dick starts to move away from it.

But Dick’s connections are strong and well cared for, so, even when he goes back to Bludhaven and starts fresh (again) as Nightwing those connections remain. Oracle still gives him intel, Robin and Red Robin come over to Bludhaven to patrol, maybe they even have their own rooms at Dick’s place.

With Bludhaven functioning again, all of the terrible people that were working there also come back, maybe some of them never left and they have been corrupting the city from its very core. So, when Jason tells Dick that he would like to expand his operations to Bludhaven, Dick says yes, as long as Jason keeps him updated on his work and also lets him know what is going on.

I think it works! What do you guys think so far?

From then on with the whole Dick-Family being connected and strong I think they can actually act and solve their problems as a family. All those arcs that didn’t work very well because Bruce was in the middle of it being a jerk, I think they will work if Dick is at the centre of it. Let’s say that Bruce hid the fact that Joker knows their identities and all that, with such a strong family the second that the Joker tries to manipulate Jason into believing that he created him, Dick will come out of the shadows and shut that bullshit down. If Joker tries to do something to the Circus, then the Birds of Prey and the Robins will be there in seconds helping Dick.

The Court of Owls, those little shits wouldn’t stand a chance against this team, this force of nature! Jason would be the one working from afar because you know my boy wouldn’t be subjected to the “no-killing” rule but if he does it, he has to do it away from the children (Damian) and away from Cass, if he doesn’t want to know real trouble. (He probably arranged those things with Dick a long time ago and he is happy with it).

Now, please forgive me but for angst reasons I will actually let the events of, Batman Incorporated #8, Forever Evil, Nightwing #30 and Spyral run its course.

Let me explain, after Damian’s death Dick holds the Dick-Family together, as well as Bruce because he is amazing like that, but then after Dick supposedly dies, things change just a little bit. Jason would retreat back to his own corner because the only thing attaching him to the Dick-Family was Dick but he would also keep his eyes open and he might also have a direct line with Oracle if things go south.

Aside from Jason, I do see the others working on keeping their connections intact. When Damian eventually returns the land of the living, I can see all of them coming together even more because that’s what Dick would have wanted.

And then Dick will come back from Spyral and here is where the Dick-Family will show the “Bat-Family” why its superior to it in every aspect possible.

The Dick-Family will notice that something must have happened, Dick would never play dead and leave them like that, but Dick loves Bruce and he doesn’t want to tell them the truth, Bruce has no memories now and his family doesn’t deserve that kind of drama BUT Jason and Tim are suspicious, they know Dick at this point and they trust him so they firmly believe that he is hiding something to protect someone. And here is where life repeats itself. Let’s review the Batcave’s footage, yes, I did it again, I just love the fact that Bruce has footage of himself being the absolute worst to his kids, how does DC not use it! Anyway, Tim and Jason find the footage from the events of Nightwing #30 and suddenly the Dick-Family have their “Dick defence squad” jackets on and they are ready to party.

After all that Bruce eventually gets his memories back and he is held accountable for his actions. Also, around this time the events of Robin War would have already happened so Duke is also introduced. Dick lets him join and all that, and then Duke and Cass become besties and they work together.

And yeah, as Rebirth comes closer the Dick-Family would be more united than ever.

The end.

That is how I would have done it. But this way is slow, and DC wouldn’t be able to monetize it as much as they would want.

Jason wouldn’t be giving hugs and calling everyone their brother or sister, he will only get along with Dick and he would be professional with everyone else.

Tim and Damian would get along but they wouldn’t go for ice cream together on a sunny day. Steph and Damian would and so would Cass and Tim or Cass and Duke.

Oracle would work with Dick and the others as a side thing because her main thing would be the Birds of Prey, this time with Helena too.

Alfred would spend his time with Bruce but he would also be very aware of Dick and his influence on everyone around them. Bruce eventually would be integrated to the Dick-Family because Dick is a sweetheart but Dick would also make Bruce follow his rules, Dick is a little bean but he is also the most badass person in the room (whichever room) so you better listen to what he has to say.

The Dick-Family would be something that grows silently and doesn’t need a “Joker War” in order for them to be there for each other, they would try their best each step of the way and they will talk things out when mistakes are made.

This is the way that I see this family dynamic working.

I would even go as far as to say that Talia can be part of the Dick-Family because she is connected to three people, Dick, Damian and Jason.

Dick is the person with most connections in the DC Universe, the Titans, the Justice League, Deathstroke, they all have connections to this treasure of a man. If he needs help in Gotham or Bludhaven then he can call people from the “first circle”, if things are beyond a “street level” threat them he can call the Titans and if shit really hits the fan, Clark and the others are a call away.

Anyway, this was unnecessarily long, I am sorry about it but I am also not because I really don’t know how to answer your question without going on a long rant.

In conclusion the Bat-Family doesn’t work and sadly it wouldn’t work no matter how much they force it. These people don’t have connections, Bruce is not able to make connections between people. And DC has erased entire relationships that Dick used to have. I mean, they got rid of Dick and Tim being close brothers just so they could give us a shitty brunch between Tim and Jason? Only yesterday we saw a true and beautiful interaction between Dick and Damian.

DC is handling the “Bat-Family” in all the worst possible ways. It just doesn’t work.

They should have used Dick all those years ago and they shouldn’t have destroyed Jason’s characterization with Lobdell’s ideas.

So, sadly, my dear anon, I don’t see the Bat-Family as a in character thing for any of these people as they are written currently, but I hope that you enjoyed my version of it. May the Dick-Family bring everyone who reads about it a little joy!

[miraculouswolf99]

Breaking Into The Watchtower Part 2

Part 2, and the final part, of my Miraculous-Justice League crossover. Prepare for a long one, readers.

*****

After recharging, the masked teens all gathered back in front of the heroes. Since the ones that had used their powers had to recharge, their power effects lifted from Dr. Fate and Superman. It allowed both heroes to be free once more. The Justice League and Young Justice all returned to their seats. If Wonder Woman was honored to meet them, then they should hear them out before deciding what to do with them.

The group was about evenly split to be on either side of who seemed to be the leaders of their group. The ladybug and butterfly girls as well as the wolf and black cat boys.

“Introductions would certainly be the best way to start,” the ladybug girl said. “My name is Ladybug and I am one of the leaders of the Miraculous hero team of Paris. Right next to me is my partner, Cat Noir.”

The black cat boy nodded at the heroes.

“My name is White Wolf and I am the co-leader of the Miraculous team along with Cat Noir, Ladybug, and my partner Beautifly,” the wolf boy motioned to the butterfly girl when he mentioned her.

“Pleasure,” she nodded to the heroes like Cat Noir.

“With us are all of our team members,” Ladybug motioned to the rest of the heroes. “To my right is Vulpix, Emerald Shell, Queen Bee, Tigress, Lady Unicorn, and Shadow Cat.”

“To my left is the rest of our team,” White Wolf says. “Viperion, Ryuko, Ocean Mage, King Monkey, Gladiator, and Bunnix.”

All of the other heroes nodded when they were introduced.

“For three years, Paris has been terrorized by a terrorist known as Hawkmoth and as have come to personally ask for your help,” Beautifly says.

Ladybug then stepped forward and took the yo-yo off of her wait. She opened it and typed in a few commands. A hologram appeared out of it, like the holographic screams and projectors that the league uses. Ladybug put her yo-yo on the ground so that the others could use their weapons/communicators to control the images that are seen. Cat Noir took out his staff and used it to punch in a command. The hologram then showed images of a few of the miraculous. The most well-known ones, such as the ladybug and black cat as well as the moth/butterfly.

“The miraculous are an ancient set of jewelry enchanted and bonded to gods known as the kwami,” Ladybug explains. “Each piece, along with the kwami that it is bonded to, represents a specific aspect of magic. Creation, destruction, illusion, protection, and more. But that is specifically the miraculous of ancient China, where most of our miraculous come from.

“The miraculous that are used by myself, Beautifly, Tigress, and Gladiator use miraculous that originate from ancient Greece,” White Wolf says. “Our representations are more general but also more specific at the same time. Mine represents Winter’s Hope, as in the hope that comes when you know and hope about how the frost protects the earth before it gives way to the flowers of spring. Beautifly’s represents Spring Love, coming from the original belief of flowers and Spring being associated with love.”

“My miraculous comes from the mystical creature miraculous, where each represents a magical creature and what their core is all about,” Ocean Mage said. “Mine is the miraculous of the mermaid.”

The Justice League paid close attention to what the group was saying. Most of Young Justice was looking at Kid Flash, who was glaring at the teen heroes. He was probably itching to yell at them that “magic wasn’t real” because of his extreme disbelief in it. But the Flash was next to him and making sure that he did not let his former sidekick’s delusions interrupt the Miraculous Team.

“So, it would be a magical threat, right,” Aqualad guessed. “That would be the only reason why the miraculous would be called into action, correct?”

“Exactly,” Beautifly answered the Atlantean.

Cat Noir punched in a command into his baton and the hologram changed. It now showed an image of Hawkmoth. 

“He looks like a Mexican wrestler reject,” Red Hood said.

Most of Team Miraculous had to hold their hands over their mouths to stop them from bursting into laughter and ruining their aura of seriousness.

“This is the terrorist that we have been fighting,” Cat Noir says. “He showed up about three years also, almost four. He has been using the stolen butterfly/moth miraculous in order to turn unsuspecting people into superpowered villains.”

“How can he do that,” Flash asked, curious. “What exactly is the power of his miraculous?”

“The power is originally known as Empowerment,” Cat Noir said. “The miraculous are not meant to be used for evil, so Hawmoth has turned the power into Metamorphasis. He uses it to sense those that are feeling intense negative emotions and takes advantage of them in order to turn them into his villains. Anger, sadness, betrayal, heartbreak, anything negative.”

“His goal has remained the same for the entire time that he has been active,” Viperion says. “He desires to obtain the ladybug and black cat miraculous.”

“What is it about those two that he specifically wants them above all the others,” Black Canary asked them.

“The ladybug and black cat are the most powerful of the ancient China miraculous,” Ryuko tells the league. “They’re the complete opposite of each other with the ladybug being creation and good luck while the black cat is destruction and bad luck. When you combine them, the person wielding them is given the power to bend reality in order to make a wish.”

“So this guy is terrorizing your city just to make a single wish,” Green Arrow raised an eyebrow.

“Must be something that can not be obtained any other way or he is just really desperate for a quick solution,” Red Arrow said.

“If it was a simple wish, there would not be much of an issue,” Ladybug says. “But because the ladybug and black cat need each other to balance the other, the wish itself would also require balance.”

Viperion was the one to put in the next command. How he was able to do that with a harp, none of them ever asked. Three more images appeared, replacing Hawmoth’s. Pompeii, the Black Plague, and even the Salem Witch Trials.

“All of these things were caused by a wish,” Superman sounded skeptical.

“There are many examples of magic throughout history,” White Wolf says. “You just have to know where to look.”

Vulpix took his turn to speak. He used his flute to point at specific images when he was talking about them.

“In Pompeii, someone wished for their family to not be killed by disease,” Vulpix said. “But that ended up causing a volcano that wipes out a majority of the city and most of its population. A man’s wife was sick and he wished for her illness to go away. But then the illness spread since it left one person and turned into a plague. Last was a miraculous holder that was deeply afraid of being discovered and wished to never be accused of using magic. But then dozens upon hundreds of innocent people were convicted and executed during the witch trials.”

“The balance is why the wish is so dangerous,” Emerald Shell says. “Everything that is wished for usually ends in disaster. Even those with pure intentions are not spared. But since Hawkmoth definitely is planning on using the wish, it is either for something extremely wrong or just extremely selfish. Either would end in hell on Earth.”

“It’s so hard to believe that a wish could do all of that,” Black Lightning was shocked.

“Magic does that,” Beautifly says. “It makes the impossible turn possible.”

“If it is the miraculous of ancient China that Hawkmoth wants, why not use the others you have access to,” Red Tornado asked. “It is the logical choice to keep the miraculous that he desires out of his reach. You do have access to the ancient Greek miraculous, given White Wolf, Beautifly, Gladiator, and Tigress.”

“We wish it was that simple,” Lady Unicorn said.

“The problem is that the powers of Hawkmoth’s miraculous can only be undone by the ladybug miraculous,” Ladybug says. “And since the ladybug and black cat have to balance each other, both have to be active at the same time or neither of them can be active. I am the only one that can purify his akumas and then fix all the damage that they cause with my Miraculous Cure.”

Queen Bee typed a command into her top. A video replaced the images of the disasters that the wish caused. The video was from the Ladyblog and it was of the first akuma attack. It showed Ladybug casting her first-ever cure and everything being fixed by it.

“This was only the first of Hawkmoth’s attacks,” she said.

“There is also the added issue that the Greek miraculous also have a wish tied to the most powerful ones,” White Wolf says.

“They do,” Wonder Woman did not know about the Greek miraculous since neither she nor any other Amazon came into contact with them.

“As we have said, the wolf and butterfly miraculous are each themed by elements of Winter and Spring,” White Wolf says. “So you know that would leave the other two seasons. Those two exist in the power of Summer’s Heart for the songbird miraculous along with the Wildness of Autumn for the panther miraculous. Combining all four seasons gives the same wish ability as the combined ladybug and black cat.”

“But there is still the balance issue even with a different set of miraculous,” Tigress added. “Magic always comes at a price. That is the universal law of magic.”

The Justice League all nodded, most of them understanding the price that could come when you use magic. The Young Justice team remembered Zatanna explaining her powers to them when she had first met them. She had said that the power of her spells usually has to come from within, meaning that the more powerful spells would seriously drain her energy. Plus, there is also the known fact that Dr. Fate was never controlled by who wore the helmet. They were like a coat that the lord of order would put on in order to be active. Zatara was still in there but the price he paid was only being able to see his daughter once a year.

“So, what exactly is it that you need from us,” Batman asked the teens.

He was surprised to have heard about the villain in Paris before. Sure, he rarely ever left Gotham unless it was an international emergency, but this was a serious problem. If this villain, or any villain, got their hands on the miraculous, it would be a complete hell on earth. Lord knows what disaster would happen if the Joker made a wish.

“We actually have been requesting help for years,” Queen Bee glared at the league. “Ladybug has called, Cat Noir has called, even the mayor of Paris has called. You all brush us aside and have even told us to stop calling the League to trick them with ‘such an unrealistic prank.’ It’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.”

“While Queen Bee could have been a bit more diplomatic, she is correct,” Ryuko says. “The miraculous are not so unrealistic when you have magic-users like Zatanna as a part of the League while also having Dr. Fate, whose helmet inhabits a lord of order that possesses whoever wears the helmet. That is not unlike the miraculous, only slightly different.”

Guy Gardner looked particularly embarrassed by that. That made the rest of the league realize who had been ignoring their calls for help, waving it off as a prank. You would think that someone with a powerful piece of jewelry himself would believe in the miraculous.

“As much as it pains us to admit, we no longer know what to do,” Cat Noir says. “Hawkmoth has been growing in power ever since Heroes Day almost two years ago. That was also the first time that his partner revealed herself.”

Vulpix was the one that typed in the command this time, into his flute. The hologram changed to show Mayura. The elegant woman looked even more dangerous with her fan allowing only access to her deadly gaze.

“This is Mayura,” Emerald Shell said. “She appeared on Heroes Day and foiled the closest time that the team had ever come to defeating Hawkmoth. She wields the peacock miraculous, which grants the power of Emotion, which allows her to make inanimate objects into guardians. Only they are now called sentimonsters. They are a monster created by a person’s negative emotions just like Hawkmoth’s akumas. While she is not as common as Hawkmoth, the two of them do combine their powers to give akumas a powerful allie.”

Emerald Shell typed in a command and pictures of some of her sentimonsters appeared around the image of Mayura. The moth creature that she usually gives Hawkmoth, Refleckdoll, the lollypop monster, and Feast.

“Why does she not appear as often as Hawkmoth,” Martian Manhunter asked.

“From our own research, and from what our kwami have told us, the peacock miraculous is broken,” Ladybug says. “In an effort to repair itself, it takes away the energy and life force of the person using it. Each time that Mayura transforms, she is risking her life.”

“You think she would actually risk her life just for Hawkmoth to succeed,” Captain Atom asked.

“Mayura has shown to be loyal to a fault,” Shadow Cat said. “The fault being that she is loyal to Hawkmoth. We also suspect that whoever she was had also allowed herself to be akumatized into Catalyst on Heroes Day in order to give Hawkmoth the needed power-up that he needed to do what he did.”

“What exactly did he do,” Green Lantern (John) asked.

“Catalyst gave Hawkmoth a power boost that he used in order to use his power on a massive level, allowing him to become Scarlet Moth,” Beautifly says. “He akumatized almost everyone that had previously been victimized by him. Dozens of his akumas flooded the streets while more of his akuma waited for others to feel negative emotions to infect them as well if they were not under the control of the mind-controlling akumas like Darkblade or Queen Wasp.”

Queen Bee shifted a bit at the mention of her second akuma form, but she got her composure back quickly.

“Hawkmoth had been able to accomplish that when he used a previous akuma to create an illusion of Ladybug being akumatized and killing Cat Noir,” Gladiator said. “All those people feeling the same negative emotion of fear and hopelessness was what allowed him to akumatize so many people at once.”

He typed in a command and the image of Mayura and her sentimonsters were replaced by a clip of what had happened during the parade played.

“And ever since Heroes Day, Hawkmoth has been getting a lot worse,” White Wolf says. “His akumas used to be a lot easier and were relatively harmless to even those affected by them. Like Princess Frangrance only hypnotized those that smelled her perfume and Silencer only took people’s voices. But then you compare that to Syren and Stormy Weather, both have caused natural disasters. Hawkmoth is getting deadly in his desperation for the miraculous.”

He typed in a command and the image changed to show the range of akuma that have happened over the years. Harmless ones like Mr.Pigeon, deadly ones like Queen Of Hearts, and natural disaster ones like Syren.

“We can deal with the akumas,” Ladybug says. “But with Hawkmoth constantly sending them out, we have no time or energy to put toward finding him and taking him and Mayura down for good.”

“Do you have any suspects,” Nightwing asked.

“We had a promising suspect in fashion designer, Gabriel Agreste,” Ocean Mage said. “He lives a secluded life away from people, butterflies are pretty common in a lot of his designs, and there was also that a lost grimoire had also been found in a secret vault by his son.”

“But we had to cross him off the suspect list when he was akumatized,” Tigress says. “But even our only suspect for Mayura puts him right back in the suspect pool.”

“You mean his assistant, right,” Red Robin was looking at the holographic screen over his glove, same as Oracle. “Nathalie Sancoeur.”

“She had had multiple doctor’s appointments ever since this Heroes Day you told us about,” Oracle continued for him. “And every time it is for the same thing. Dizziness, fatigue, constant headaches, and multiple coughing fits.”

“Yes, she is his assistant,” Shadow Cat answered. “She has also shown that she is incredibly loyal to Gabriel no matter how inhumane the things that he wants his son to do are. His diets and constant photoshoots should never be given to a teenager.”

“He also has a motive,” Cat Noir looked to be the most reluctant out of all of them on this topic. “Gabriel Agreste’s wife vanished about six months before Hawkmoth appeared and many assume that she is dead by now. He could desire to use the wish to either bring her back or to bring her back to life. Either would probably cause the balance to cause something horrible to happen.”

“If you suspect those two, do you also suspect Agreste’s son, as well,” Red Robin asked.

“That is the thing that we want to avoid,” Shadow Cat says. “Most of us know his son or have met him because he was targetted by an akuma. Adrien is known as the Sunshine of Paris. There is no way that he is involved even if those two are behind it.”

“We also do not want it to be true because that would also mean that Mr.Agreste put his own son in danger by sending akumas after him,” Lady Unicorn added. “It would also mean that Adrien would probably have his life destroyed if those two really are behind the attacks.”

“I am sure that he would greatly appreciate you all standing up for him,” Wonder Woman smiles at the teen heroes.

Robin had been staring at the group the entire time. He was not only the only blood son of the world’s greatest detective, but he also had a trained assassin’s eye. He noticed things that others didn’t. Like there was an unspoken bond and closeness between the black cat boy and the wolf boy. The other obvious couples seemed to be the horse and tiger girls as well as the dragon girl and snake boy. The fox and turtle boys were also definitely together.

“Is there anything else,” Superman asked.

The teens shared a look with each other. It seemed that this part was probably something that they had discussed before. Ladybug nodded to Cat Noir. He typed in a command and the image of a civilian girl appeared. 

“Why does this girl have sausages on her head,” Red Hood asked.

Most of Team Miraculous did not even try to hold in their laughter this time. But they had to soon get back their composure since this was a very serious situation.

“This is Lila Rossi, daughter of an Italian diplomate,” Ladybug said. “She has been akumatized almost fifty times. She is mostly akumatized as Volpina, which is a poor copy of Vulpix and his powers. But she also has been akumatized into Chameleon, which is an akuma that can shapeshift into anyone or anything that she kisses, as well as Miracle Queen, which can create illusions that can hypnotize people. We believe that she is working for Hawkmoth since Volpina is the only akuma that could have created the illusion on Heroes Day.”

“Why does that make her a suspect,” Green Arrow asked.

“Because I didn’t purify Volpina’s akuma that day,” Ladybug says. “And since Hawkmoth had to akumatize another person into Catalyst after the illusion that was created, that meant that she was akumatized and didn’t tell anyone.”

“There is also that the mayor’s daughter, Chloe Bourgeois, sent us this,” Queen Bee types in a command.

Next to the image of Lila appeared a video that was obviously taken on a cell phone while a person was hiding. It showed Lila running toward an akuma and literally jumping up to snatch it out of the air. She then placed the akuma into the necklace that she was wearing and actually smirked as a glowing butterfly outline appeared over her eyes.

“Because of Chloe’s previous reputation of being a bully and a spoiled brat that likes getting others into trouble, she knew that only we would actually believe her when she gave us this video,” Ladybug says.

“There is also the fact that Lila is a pathological liar that puts on a sweet and innocent front that makes it almost impossible for people to see her as the horrible person that she really is,” Emerald Shell of all people basically growled.

“Lila has spent years telling tall tales about being Ladybug’s best friend,” Vulpix said. “As well lies about musicians like Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, comic book artists like the writers of the Miraculous Adventures comic, fashion designers like Style Queen and MDC, as well as Adrien Agreste himself. Anyone that has ever called her out has had their lives ruined.”

“More research into her revealed that at every single school that Lila has ever attended, there has been either a suicide, a deadly accident, or a person getting greatly injured,” Viperion says. “All of them have been about kids that were once popular and loved, but their lives went to hell once Lila attended their schools.”

“You believe that this Lila girl is behind all of these things,” Superboy asked.

“We connected everyone that we could that was connected to her past victims,” Gladiator said. “They all said the same thing, that Lila came to the school with tales of grand adventures and their friend or child realized that she was lying. Then she would start whispering lies about these kids to all of her loyal listeners. She would make up stories about them bullying her, threatening her, stealing from her, talking behind their backs, anything that she could think of.”

“She would turn everyone that she could against them,” Ocean Mage crossed his arms. “Friends, teachers, principals, even family. There were those that killed themselves over the bullying they received, but it was actually worse for those that were too strong for that. Lila would then either cause an accident that would kill them or injure them in a way that broke them even further.”

“Take a look at this,” Tigress made an image appear of a kind-looking boy that looked to be from Spain from the background of the image. “This is Mateo Santiago. He went to the same school as Lila when she was in Spain. He was once a popular boy that had a gift for singing. He won countless youth singing contests all over Spain. When he heard Lila’s tales, he did his research and found her to be a liar. But just like all the others, she turned everyone but his family against him. But Mateo remained strong and did not let her or anyone get to him, confident because of how much he performed in front of others. So, Lila took that away from him.”

“See, Mateo was allergic to fish,” Beautifly took over the story. “It gave his throat a bad reaction, so he stayed away from it to keep his vocal cords safe. But one day, Lila managed to get into his locker and pour fish sauce all over his lunch salad. So when lunch came, he had an allergic reaction. He was taken to the hospital and the procedure that saved his life also damaged his vocal cords. He would be mute for the rest of his life. All of that because he knew Lila was a liar and tried to expose her.”

“Lila has been trying to do the same in Paris as well,” White Wolf says, making an image of a Chinese-French girl be exchanged for Mateo’s. “This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Lila’s latest victim. See, Marinette is a fashion design hopeful and has already designed for those like Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, Adrien Agreste, and even been noticed by Style Queen herself for a simple hat. Since she has her own connections, she knew right away that Lila was a liar.”

“You may notice from any research that you do that Vulpix, Emerald Shell, and Lady Unicorn have not always been those that wield the fox, turtle, and horse miraculous,” Cat Noir says, making images of three previous holders appear next to Marinette’s picture. “This is Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Pegasus. They were the previous holders of those three miraculous.”

“Did something happen to them,” Red Arrow asked.

“Lila happened,” King Monkey crossed his arms. “These three used to be friends of Marinette’s. Especially Rena and Carapace. But then Lila came along and Marinette tried to expose her. Lila managed to sway half of Marinette’s class into being her attack dogs to attack Marinette even if Lila looks even the slightest bit upset.”

“Marinette is a sweetheart,” Shadow Cat added. “She was the class president, got some of the best grades in her class, does charity work, babysits, helps her parents in their bakery, and has always bent over backward to help others. But Lila took most of that away with her lies. She probably would have destroyed Marinette if not for her having loyal friends.”

“Marinette has been the victim of physical, mental, and emotional bullying for years because of Lila,” Cat Noir looked ready to hiss. “But she remains positive the entire time. She’s transferred classes, has gotten a new phone number, and even uses a secret identity when she designs to keep Lila from claiming her designs as her own.”

“Lila has also chosen to act as a spy for Gabriel Agreste,” Ladybug’s fists were clenched tight. “She has used her lies to get close to him and he uses her to try and separate Adrien from ‘bad influences.’ Which is basically just Lila using more lies to try and isolate Adrien so that he would only have her. Adrien actually stays away as best she can, especially since she is sexually harassing him, but his father always gives them photoshoots together. She constantly threatens him by saying that with one word, Adrien will be back under house arrest by his father no longer letting him leave the house.

“Between her causing akumas, being akumas, Hawkmoth, and Mayura, we need help,” Beautifly says. “There must be something that you can do to help us.”

The league all shared looks with each other. These heroes have obviously been doing a great help if Paris is still standing, but they also look so tired and in dire need of their help.

“We’ll help,” Robin tells the heroes before the league actually answered.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 19, part two

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

The Man Comes Around

Over at the Wen Indoctrination Tower, which seems to exist just to torture Lan Wangji with stair climbing, Lan Wangji is climbing the stairs. Too bad his cultivation level is too low to be able to just jump up. At least this time his leg isn't broken.

This is the first vengeful stair-climb in the show, but not the last. (Parallel gifset here).

The Wen guards are stationed all the way at the pinnacle of this tower to guard...what? Why are they not at the bottom of the stairs? What is this location for, actually? This is further up the stairs than the scenes with the indoctrination lectures. Anyway, it's been three months since Wen Chao threw Wei Wuxian into the burial mounds, so naturally these guards are talking about that exact thing as Lan Wangji approaches.

Lan Wangji knocks them all down with a blast from his guqin. Did you know his guqin is named Wangji, by the way? It is. A guy who is that lazy about naming his quqin maybe shouldn't feel so superior to a guy who named his sword "whatever." 

(I'm suddenly remembering a plush lamb I had as a child, whose eyes were orange, that I named "orange eyes.") (I, however, was three. And I had a lot of plush lambs. Little ones. Grown-ups found it hilarious to give them to me.) (Native speakers of English can probably guess what OP's real name is. Hint: it rhymes with Canary.) (Everybody else: there is a kid's rhyming song called Mary Had A Little Lamb. OP's name is Mary.)

Anyhoo, after Lan Wangji is finally finished with his dramatic entrance, Jiang Cheng comes flying in from wherever he's been hovering for the past 20 minutes of stair time. A bunch of Lan sidekicks also flood into the frame from wherever they were hiding during the wide shots of LWJ on the staircase.

In case you hope that CQL Lan Wangji is as much of a top (offscreen) as MZDS Lan Wangji is (on the page), here's a gif for you.

(more after the cut)

He uses the patented Lan string attack to choke this guard.  Lan Wangji doesn't have to hold a guqin string in his hands to choke someone with it. He doesn't even have to tighten it, judging by how absurdly not-tight this string is.

Or maybe this guy is choking on the chin strap of his helmet. This is exactly how OP's son reacts when OP sticks a bike helmet on him. (Note: it's GOOD that they are following choking safety protocols on set. Very good. However, they could have just left the string out and pretended, and it would look better, in this instance)

The Wen guard tells Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng about the whole "thrown into the burial mounds" thing.  Team Let's Find Wei Wuxian is not happy to hear this.

A Vengeful Ghost

Meanwhile, in some Wen office somewhere? Where the hell is this? Yiling, we get an ominous shot of the rooftops where Wei Wuxian is lurking and then we see Wang Lingjiao trying to sleep and having a nightmare.

Wang Lingjiao has gone to sleep with a full face of makeup on instead of washing her face before bed. She has forgotten the important maxim, Go To Sleep Pretty, Wake Up Zitty.

She leaps out of bed to go cling to Wen Chao and freak out about Wei Wuxian's ghost. Wen Chao is trying to read the sports section and has clearly had enough of this crap. This has presumably been going on for a little while now.

Wang Lingjiao is in a new outfit, which is...pajamas? It has the feel of a 1930's French peignoir set, and it's much more softly colored than her usual bright red-purple combo. If this is her pajamas is it weird that her day clothes are a lot more aggressively sexy-looking than her nightgown? A freak in the streets but a lady in the sheets.

Wen Chao rants about the Sunshot Campaign and talks some smack about Wen Qing, and then leaves to go to the bar and watch the game with Wen Zhuliu. After he leaves Wang Lingjiao freaks out for a bit and then looks at the notice he was reading.

The notice basically says that the Sunshot Campaign is kicking their ass. She should be proud for inspiring the name of the campaign with that kite-shooting bullshit she made up at Lotus Pier. Before slaughtering everyone.

No Matter What You Do, I Only Want To Be With You

Back at the Indoctrination Tower, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are having feelings about Wei Wuxian. Jiang Chang does all the talking but Lan Wangji's thoughts are louder because a sad violin is playing Wangxian while they talk.

Jiang Cheng tells Lan Wangji about their meetup plan and says he thought WWX had dumped him to go find Lan Wangji in Lanling. Lan Wangji telepathically indicates that this didn’t happen. This means two things: 1. Lan Wangji has been hanging out in Lanling, where Jiang Yanli has been hanging out, so maybe they have bonded over the past 3 months and 2. This is the first time Jiang Cheng has talked to Lan Wangji since Wei Wuxian disappeared. 

Much as my fic-loving heart would like to believe these two spent three months on the road together looking for Wei Wuxian, in fact they are both important high-level fighters in an active military campaign, and Lan Wangji was busy taking back the Cloud Recesses while Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were having elective surgery. They probably both were assigned to the "Indoctrination Bureau" mission and this is the first chance they've had to talk about Wei Wuxian.

Is it heartbreaking that, while Wei Wuxian was helplessly getting his ass beat because he'd sacrificed his golden core for Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng believed Wei Wuxian had abandoned him for Lan Wangji? Yes. Yes it is.

For some reason Jiang Cheng is hesitant to believe that Wei Wuxian really was thrown into the Burial Mounds. I mean, I understand not wanting to believe Wei Wuxian is dead, but given that Wen Chao is the dude who oversaw the massacre of all of the people at Lotus Pier, including kids, why would Jiang Cheng think his guards are wrong? Maybe he just feels like Wei Wuxian is invincible, since so far he kinda has been. 

The Sword is Mightier Than Not Having a Sword

While they've been chatting, the Lan disciples have found their swords. One disciple is holding Bichen (LWJ's sword), Sandu (JC's sword), and OP consults wiki Suihua (Jin Zixuan's sword). Another disciple is holding Subian (WWX's sword).  

Jiang Cheng grabs Sandu while the Lan disciples, who apparently know their gongzi’s heart, offer Wei Wuxian's sword to Lan Wangji. 

Lan Wangji takes Subian (Bichen: What am I, chopped watercress?) and immediately tries to draw it. Like you don't do. It's sealed itself, which apparently means that it's upset. It's unclear if it's upset because Wei Wuxian is dead or if it just misses him, however.  

Lan Wangji definitely misses him, and wonders, out loud inside his own head, where Wei Wuxian is. Um, he's in the Burial Mounds, dude, they just told you. Well, I guess he's actually in Yiling proper at this point, haunting Wang Lingjiao as he promised her he would.

Twa Corbies

The scene shifts to Qinghe, where there are about 12 dead bodies lying around, which in this show means that there are really a few hundred. In fact, per Jiang Yanli's statement "nothing can be seen but corpses covering the plains." The camera can't see most of them, is all.

Wen Xu's head is hanging in the doorway, and the Jins talk about how Nie Mingjue killed him, cutting his head off with just one swing. Is this foreshadowing anything, like perhaps someone else's head being cut off by Baxia in just one swing? Nope, definitely not.

A couple of crows are perched on a body, totally not eating it, but Jin Zixuan gallantly zaps them with a talisman to make them fly away anyway.  It might be noteworthy that nobody used to use talismans but gradually more and more people are using them - particularly people who have spent time with Wei Wuxian.

With mony a lock of his golden hair-o, we’ll theek our nest when it grows bare-o

Asshole cousin Jin Zixun says “scavenger rights,” so Jin Zixuan puts him in charge of collecting all the bodies. 

Since OP just finished watching fur-collar-happy Nirvana in Fire, these crows look to me like they are wearing luxurious fur collars. Where OP lives, crows are not this fancy. 

A Romantic Corpse-Filled Interlude

Disaster het Jin Zixuan goes to help Jiang Yanli get out of the carriage but she rejects his hand just like he rejected hers back in Gusu.

Jiang Yanli is extremely shocked when she sees Wen Xu's severed head, and turns away in horror, preferring to calmly rest her eyes on dozens of crow-pecked corpses.

Jin Zixuan tries to comfort her and she tells him she'll be going now, thanks for the hospitality. He tries to say that he has to personally deliver her to a representative of the patriarchy one of her brothers, but then one of her brothers shows up.

Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng arrive, having presumably flown there from Qishan. They show that they are flying by blowing a fan on the ground and then jumping off of a box, which is better than the effects we were subjected to earlier in the episode.

Jiang Cheng rushes over to have an emotional reunion with Jiang Yanli, while Lan Wangji rushes over to have an emotional reunion with Wen Xu’s severed head. Jin Zixuan kind of spoils it for him by talking about Wei Wuxian's absence while Lan Wangji is trying to have a moment.

The whole time Jin Zixuan is talking to him, Lan Wangji appears to be gazing into the middle distance but in fact he is staring at Wen Xu's severed head. This is the guy who led the burning of Cloud Recesses, killed a bunch of disciples, and personally broke Lan Wangji's leg. Lan Wangji stares at his head for more than a full minute before glancing away.

Jiang Yanli hasn't seen Jiang Cheng since they were in Wen Qing's clinic, and she is happy he's recovered. When she asks about Wei Wuxian he gives her the bad news in the classic Jiang fashion, which is to say nothing, but look stricken until your interlocutor figures out that something is horribly wrong, but not precisely what.

Four Angry Men

Inside the fortress, Nie Mingjue is slapping the table and saying, this bad boy can hold so much resentment and vengeance. They're having a mini war council and we're getting a better sense of Nie Mingjue's anger management problem. Note for those who don't get the gif reference: this is a The Godfather joke, not a sex joke, but it can be both, if you like.

We're also getting a little more info about Baxia, who seems to be eager to go fight even without anyone wielding it. (Her? Him? Them? do swords have gender? I don't know). Well done, person below the camera frame whose job is to rattle Baxia in a menacing manner.

They've got a giant model of the battle targets, which looks like it was carved out of real rock (I mean, as much as any of the rocks on this show look like real rocks) and has its own table and everything, decorated in Nie colors. Where was this before they took Qinghe back? Has Nie Mingjue been traveling with it? 

Anyway, I'm assuming Nie Huaisang made it, because it's pretty nice. Hopefully they will keep it around for tabletop gaming after the war is over.

Jiang Cheng is upset but is using his anger management mantra to help control his temper while Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji talk with Nie Mingjue. 

Lan Wangji talks by leaning forward meaningfully, mostly not by using any words, but he asks for a battle assignment and Jiang Cheng immediately joins in. They both want to go find Wei Wuxian. 

Nie Mingjue says Yiling is too difficult of a target, but Lan Wangji puts on his determined face, which is apparently very persuasive.  

After Team Find Wei Wuxian leaves, Nie Mingjue asks Jin Zixuan to hang back so he can ask him how Meng Yao is doing. This is the first time he finds out that his ex didn't go to Lanling. Jin Zixuan tries to delicately remind him that Dad's got, like, SO many bastard children, they really don't have space for all of them. Nie Mingjue dismisses him immediately and abruptly. 

Nie Mingjue might invite the straights to his party but he isn't interested in actually socializing with them.

Unconditional Soup is Only for A-Xian

Jiang Cheng can't sleep, and takes some time, now, to be sad about Wei Wuxian. Presumably he spent the prior 3 months being mad, not sad, because he really thought he just buggered off without saying anything for all that time. Which is sort of fair, but sort of not. One thing about these two bros is that for as close as they have been and as much as they love each other, their mutual understanding has some big, messy gaps.

Fortunately while he is feeling sad, Jiang Cheng does not try to draw Subian from its sheath, because wouldn't THAT be awkward.

Jiang Yanli can't sleep either, and comes to sit with him. Jiang Cheng feels bad that she's wearing herself out with worry and she says "As your sister, I have nothing to do but to worry about you." Jiang Yanli isn't one to complain but she doesn't like being inactive or helpless. In Lanling she was far from the war, but now that she's in Qinghe she'll make herself useful by tending the wounded, and later she'll help Jiang Cheng shoulder his responsibilities as he takes over the Jiang clan.

At the moment, however, all she can do is fret and make soup. As she gives Jiang Cheng a bowlful she reminds him that he absolutely has to rescue their brother who has, according to his captors, been reduced to bone dust.

With all the impossible shit that Jiang Cheng is expected to achieve - and in many instances, does achieve - he is absolutely the embodiment of the Jiang Clan's motto. Fuck his father for disrespecting him because he hadn't figured out how to do everything by the age of 16.

Definitely Not Chilling in Yiling

Back in Yiling, Wen Chao is hearing the news that the Qishan Indoctrination Bureau has fallen and that he's being called back to Nightless City. Wen Chao says he shouldn't need to go back because his dad has a new right-hand man. That new right-hand man, we will eventually learn, is Meng Yao. Wang Lingjiao, meanwhile, is hiding under the bed covers and deciding it's time to dump Wen Chao.

She locks the door and goes to pull out her jewelry box, which is locked and hidden under the bed. Maybe this is Wen Chao's jewelry box, because she acts kind of squirrely about opening it. Upon opening the jewelry box, she doesn't find jewelry but a pair of bloody fake eyeballs staring at her.  She screams and freaks out and then the wind picks up and we hear the sound of a flute, playing the "I'm here to fuck your shit up" tune that Wei Wuxian likes.

Wang Lingjiao runs to the door and pulls down the protection talisman that's pasted above it, and pastes it directly to her chest instead, which is, we will learn in the next episode, the worst idea she could possibly have at this point.

Then she uses a poking stick to go flip the jewelry box open and finds it's full of ugly-ass jewelry again, plus an improbable number of weird round paper-mache biscuits that have been painted gold. None of this jewelry looks anything like the exquisite accessories people wear in this show, which means this stash was put together by the practical effects department, not by the costume department.

Anyway, Wang Lingjiao apparently thinks she can sell this fakeass stuff for a good price, so more power to her. But then we get a short glimpse of the menacing eyeballs again, this time on the floor, having moved out of the box and brought their little blood pool with them. Screeching ensues.

Next episode: Lady in Red!

Soundtrack: Twa Corbies, by Steeleye Span

[privateeye-cj]

Detective Ran AU

Wanted to write more for ShinRan week, but life interfered. So here's one of the two one-shots I've been working on. Beware, I cannot write straight straight romance for the life of me, so this piece is Ran-centric, going for ShinRan but is basically a poly-scenario.

Prompt: First Meetings - What if Ran and Shinichi didn't grow up together

Audience: 12+

Warnings: Mention of canon-typical violence

Spoiler-Warning: References an Epidsode in the 600reds

The bus was crowded. Polite people moving to the door with their hands pressed to their bodies. Ran and Sonoko both held their breaths as ten people squeezed out of the door behind Ran. It was warm and both were annoyed they had to keep the blazer of their school uniform on in public.

Just as they took a deep breath of relief, eight new people streamed in, pressing Sonoko against Ran, as they tried to be the first to reach the one now empty seat.

“Mister,” a polite voice started, sounding a garbled mixture of English and Japanese with just that word. Young, male, Ran noticed. The tone was reproving.

Just the same moment, Sonoko stiffened angrily, and tried to turn, mouth opening. Ran saw a hatted figure behind her, hand outstretched and reacted instantly: Shoving past Sonoko, she grabbed the hand of the molester.

Her first punch failed to connect to the chin she aimed for, instead, she was blocked by an elbow. People started to shove away from them. Now Ran had enough space to try a low kick, which, again, was thwarted by a lightning-fast counter. Breathing hard, Ran tried to concentrate so her next move would connect where she wanted it to.

The hatted figure said “You are mistaken,” in a friendly and astonishingly relaxed voice, that was slightly tinted by a foreign accent.

“Bullshit,” Ran replied with anger, “You just grabbed Sonoko’s ass and you are going to pay for it.” Grimly, she adjusted her stance.

Shinichi hadn’t seen that coming. Sera had followed his gaze and moved to stop the molester. She never waited for words to clear up something like this.

At the same time, the beautiful and athletic woman next to the blonde being grabbed had acted, but got Sera instead.

He was lost in admiring her fluid karate moves and fierce attitude. Not many people made Sera work for it. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts and interfere.

“Sera-san wasn’t the culprit,” the voice from before cut it, the same accent fighting with Japanese vowels, but more Japanese-sounding than before. It belonged to a young man about Ran’s age, neatly dressed in slacks, a button-down, and a blazer. His dark brown hair had a distinctive cowlick.

“It was this guy,” he said, pointing to a nervous looking man in his 30s, who tried to edge away from them.

“I was just about to warn him off when both you and Sera-san,” he nodded to the hatted young man next to him, “noticed and intervened.”

Ran’s gaze moved from that ‘Sera-san’ to the 30s-something guy and back. Guilt was clearly written on the older man’s face. She scowled at him. Sonoko joined her in scowling and both moved in his direction.

“Ah, no, I didn’t mean to, … I’ll never do it again,” the man stammered, backing away from them. The moment the bus stopped and a door behind him opened, he bolted.

Ran exhaled loudly, gathered herself and turned around. She blushed slightly as she faced Sera-san.

“I’m sorry for attacking you. I should have made sure of the facts, first.” Now that the slim figure wasn’t an enemy, she could be envious of this person’s acumen and incredible speed. She would really like to spar with this person.

“I forgive you since you are my type.”

Ran blushed a bright red. How much she hated how easily embarrassed she was.

“You are embarrassing her, quit it,” she heard the other man say in an undertone. Ran’s eyes fell to the man, who gave her a tentative and apologetic smile.

Shinichi sighed silently to himself. Sera was an automatic flirt whenever an attractive woman was also good at something. Especially self-defense. He’d rather like to get to know the stranger himself. So Sera better not scare her off.

His smile got one in reply. He relaxed.

Sonoko took the stage to let Ran cool her blushes.

“I thank you all three for coming to my recue. We were just on our way to the cake buffet at Haido Hotel, can I invite you for a coffee in thanks?” She looked both men in the eye.

Sera-san was smirking, but nodded agreeably, eyes wandering over Sonoko appreciatively. The other guy was staring at Ran and only agreed after she gave a slight nod. “Interesting…” Sonoko thought.

Ran was still blushing. They couldn’t be far from the hotel; she’d rather walk there then make more of a spectacle of herself. Sonoko was talking easily to the guys, but Ran was tongue-tied, her eyes wandering to the taller one with mostly straight dark brown hair, except for the cowlick. He caught her looking more than once. Turning her gaze away in haste, she never noticed how he did the same.

“Ah, can we walk the last two stations? I think I need to stretch my legs before we get there,” her voice was a bit unsteady. Sonoko, turning to her, nodded agreement and so they filed out as soon as the bus stopped. People were making way to let them pass.

The sun was shining and they walked leisurely over the broad pavement.

“So,” Sonoko enquired as she adjusted her Gucci handbag, “you are not Tokyoites? Are you just visiting, in the middle of term?”

The taller man laughed. “Ah, and I had hoped to have lost my accent, my mother tried to train in out of me.” His eyes momentarily met Ran’s, crinkled in a smile, inviting her to share the joke. Ran couldn’t help but smile back, even though she was still flustered by his attention.

“Oh, we just moved here,” Sera-san put in. We were looking around while we wait for uncle to come back from a trip, so we can get the keys.” A friendly smile accompanied this explanation, but somehow Ran was reminded of a cat with canary-feathers between its teeth. Maybe it was that snaggle-tooth.

Sonoko asked more questions, extracting that they have lived in the USA before–strange, Ran mused, I’d rather place their accent in London, I wonder why?

Just as they reached the hotel lobby, a loud crash from behind the building, followed by a scream got everyone’s attention. Both men exchanged a glance, excused themselves and ran out.

Sonoko grabbed Ran and said “It’s your day off. Even if something happened, it can take care of itself.”

Ran sighed. “Yes, you are right.” She looked out of the glass windows on the side of the lobby, seeing the taller guy come into view with a phone next to his ear. He leaned against the glass, explaining something at length.

“They know where to find us,” Sonoko pulled her over to the elevators going to the top floor, “if they can tear themselves away from sensationalism.” She smiled at Ran.

“It’s a good test if they really are interested,” she continued once the elevator door closed behind them.

“S O N O K O!”

Ran didn’t admit she was sad when they didn’t show. There were many police cars still outside when they left, and Ran slunk out, making sure she wouldn’t been seen by any police officer. She had promised Sonoko this was a day off.

The next morning at school, Sonoko was dissecting the two guys from the day before. “I really was sure they were both interested in you,” she told Ran.

“Shut up,” Ran told her, blushing. “You make me sound like a man-eater.”

Sonoko laughed. “Sera-san seemed more like a lady-killer.”

The teacher came in, followed by two new students. The tall guy from yesterday. His eyes widened when he saw Ran.

And Sera-san… IN A SKIRT?

When her eyes flew back to the man, boy, she corrected herself, his eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter.

Somehow, it felt like an invitation to laugh with him and she liked him all the better for it.

[aprilsrant]

Honey Honey! | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

PAIRING: oliver wood x slytherin!fem!reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s friend takes his plan one step further, determined to get the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and the overthinker slytherin together. 

WORD COUNT: 2,032.

PREVIOUS PART: Lay all your love on me.

NEXT PART: When I kissed the teacher. 

REQUEST: literally one person asked for a part two and I had to do it. I have in mind another part, and possibly last one, so if anyone is interested let me know!

WARNINGS: I don’t think so.

A/N: Please remember English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, you can always correct me and I’ll fix it. And yes, the title is another ABBA song because why not? 

I still can’t believe the first part got like 150 notes. Thank you so much! 

Masterlist.

Gif below it’s not mind, credits to the person who made it.

Three days after the party in the Ravenclaw Common Room, that same one in which she almost killed one of her best friends, the unexpected happened.

His mouth lifted in a grin, white teeth showing, eyes sparkling with excitement and, at the same time, craziness; Dorian, the one who barely escaped his early death, sat beside them, leaning his body on the big root of a tree near the Black Lake, orange and brown leafs beneath him. The other tree exchanged glances. 

The afternoon was about to take an interesting turn. It’s not like he was never happy, but this particular kind of happiness came with blaring red lights, screaming and alerting everyone close enough.

Silently agreeing to ignore the boy’s strange, but not new, behaviour, (Y/N), Isla and Ethan kept working on their assignments. Before any of them could write something on the pieces of parchment, Dorian fakely cleared his throat. None of them looked at him, suppressed smiles on their faces.

(Y/N) had finished writing a sentence for her Charms essay when he tried to catch his friend’s attention again. But now using a different strategy. After the third long sigh that left his mouth, Isla, with lips pressed in a thin line, finally turned her head in his direction.

“Yes, Dorian?,” she said. Her harsh tone rivaling Professor McGonagall’s. 

In an impossible way, his grin grew larger, resembling the Cheshire Cat from the classic Alice in Wonderland. Dorian fixed his position, making himself more comfortable against the root, legs stretching (a few inches away from Ethan’s ink bottle), eyes closed and fingers gently hitting each other, taking that typical stance of someone who’s planning something. 

“What is it?,” asked Ethan impatiently.

“I come here bearing good news, no, excellent news and you treat me like this?” Always the exaggerated, Dorian feigned a hurt expression, right hand going to his chest and grabbing the part where his heart was placed.

Having enough of his games, (Y/N), who wanted nothing more to finish her paper and take a nap before dinner, decided to step into the conversation. “What excellent news?”

Dorian dropped the wounded act and smiled at her, glaring at the others as if he was saying ‘this is what good friends are supposed to be like’. He changed his posture once more —he really couldn’t stay still—, now sitting closer to them with his legs crossed, hands playing with one of the chocolate sweets Ethan had been trying to transform. The corner of his mouth never lowered. 

“Nice to hear you’re interested, my dearest (Y/N), because this concerns you directly.” She regretted ever asking him the minute that answer rolled from his mouth and his dark brown, almost black, eyes shined with mischief. Ethan’s and Isla’s confusion showed through their faces. “I just, like just, saw you know who and he,” Dorian stopped talking when he saw his friend’s disturbed expression. Rolling his eyes —how could they be that dumb?—, he explained. “Not that You-Know-Who, the other one… Ugh, I’m talking about Oliver Wood.” 

Their mouths took the shape of an O, realisation finally coming to them.

“He asked me what day you would be free to tutor him, so now, thanks to me, you have a date with Oliver this Saturday morning.”

(Y/N) and the other two stared at him. While Isla and Ethan broke into a fit of thrilled laughs and big smiles, high-fiving Dorian for his “work”, she was trying to control her anger and the words —the majority of them being insults— ready to leave her throat.  

Why was he so keen on her and Oliver being together? Why couldn’t they understand that she was not the kind of person who would act on her feelings? 

Yes, she had made it obvious that she liked the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, but that didn’t mean she wanted to do something about it. She had always been awkward and, of course, situations with strangers (did she consider him one?) tended to go that way. The girl knew that if something, anything, went wrong with him she would overthink nonstop.  

Saying nothing, (Y/N) quickly grabbed her things —a dark blue bag with white dots forming the constellations, the parchment on top of it and the quill on her hand—, stood up and left with a quick step carrying her body, ignoring her friends screaming her name to come back from near the Black Lake’s shore. 

Entering the castle, bustling with cheerful students making their way outside to enjoy the warm and sunny afternoon, she decided this was the perfect moment to take that much needed nap, even if she hadn’t finished her assignment yet. 

The Slytherin was walking down one of the corridors, this one less transitaded, when she saw the particular crimson fabric of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team’s robes. She lowered her head, hoping it was one of the Chasers or any other member that wasn’t him.

Noticing the person wearing the uniform passed right beside her and didn’t say anything, she sighed in relief.

“(Y/N)?” said a disembodied and sweet voice from behind her. Even if she couldn’t actually see the person calling her name, she knew perfectly who it belonged to. 

Bloody hell.

Before turning around to face him, she closed her eyes, preparing herself. She’d never mind his presence, or him calling for her —hell, (Y/N) dreamed of that happening every now and then—, but now was definitely the wrong time for this. She was angry with Dorian for trying to set her up, exhausted from not being able to get used to the routine again and annoyed because of the amount of homework. 

Finding his black shoes extremely interesting and intriguing, she murmured a small response.

“Fancy to see you here, I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party but I didn’t want to bother you in class, you always look so focused on the lessons, and with Quidditch practices I couldn’t find you in your free time,” Oliver continued. He had been trying to reach her? Her? “I found Dorian instead and he said you were free to tutor me on Saturday morning. If you can’t or don’t want to or whatever, you don’t have to. I know I should have talked to you first, but I didn’t see you anywhere and I was getting desperate because I can’t lose this opportunity and… and I’m rambling a lot, sorry.” He stopped tapping his thumb against his broomstick’s handle.

All at once, the feeling, more like an intuition, that he could be nervous around her engulfed (Y/N), spreading a warm sensation through her body. 

She wanted to say no, even when this was the chance she’d wanted for too long but (Y/N) knew herself. The endless overthinking that she’ll have to endure before, during and after their “study date” —what if she was a horrible tutor?; what if he didn’t understand anything she’d said?; what if she wasn’t good enough?; what if he never wanted to speak to her again after it?; what if he failed and blamed it on her?; what if all this was a big and cruel joke?, would he do that to her, to anyone?—.

She really did want to say no, but how could she when he looked like that? Upper lip biting nervously on the bottom one, his cheeks of a rosy colour, constantly shifting his body’s weight, fingers fidgeting. 

“I, um, of course, no problem,” she assured. 

Why did she have to be such a people pleaser? 

And why did she have to like him so much that when he smiled, relieved because of the answer, her heart stopped for a second and her stomach turned upside down?

|||

(Y/N) was sure Oliver had never wanted to revise Transformation so early on a Saturday, especially when his team was just a few hours away from playing their first Quidditch match of the season. She wasn’t so thrilled either, weekends were the only days she had to sleep till lunch, her roommates knowing that waking her up before one in the afternoon would lead to a pissed (Y/N) and no one liked that version of herself.

“Look, we can reschedule if you want,” she said after watching him fail once more at conjuring birds from the tip of his wand, “you are worried about the match and that’s making it impossible for you to focus on this.”

The Gryffindor glanced at her through his eyelashes, a frustrated look in his eyes —(Y/N) couldn’t figure out if it was because he was losing his time here with her while he could be training with his team one last time or because the only thing coming out of his wand were yellow feathers—. 

Running both hands across his face, he replied, “I-I don’t want you to waste your time, but I suck at Transfiguration and we haven’t even started with Potions, which is worse, and you make it seem so easy because you’re amazing at this. But I’m not and Professor MgGonagall said that if…”.

For someone who had a brave and confident exterior, Oliver Wood did ramble quite a lot.

“I know what MgGonagall said,” (Y/N) interrupted, choosing to ignore the part where he complimented her, “and you are not wasting my time, Oliver. I agreed to help you, remember?” He nodded his head slowly, watching his hands. (Y/N) thought he looked like a kid getting reprimanded. “Now, try one more time.”

And one more time he failed, yellow canary feathers falling down to the floor,  joining Oliver’s past attempts at mastering the Bird-Conjuring Charm. 

She saw him scratch his forehead with his eyes closed and lips barely visible because of the way he was biting on them. 

“You’re not doing the correct hand movement, I think that’s why it isn’t working,” (Y/N) noticed, “look, give me your hand.” She grabbed his right hand, the one holding his wand, delicately, fingers barely touching the skin. Taking his wrist and positioning herself on Oliver’s side, she showed him how to do accurate motion. “And you just say Avis.”

The next time he did the incantation, a loud blast, pretty much like the sound of a gun being fired, resonated throughout the place. Once the smoke dissipated, several yellow birds flew from the tip of his wand to the empty classroom they were practising in. Twittering and chirping filled the room, but as quickly as they did, they became background noise when Oliver let out a loud laugh at his achievement. 

He turned around, a big grin on his face and brightness in his eyes, now a completely different person. She smiled at him, his excitement starting to feel contagious.

“See, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself,” (Y/N) murmured. If only she’d take her own advice. “I think you’re good to go and-and do whatever you do before a Quidditch match.”

“Thank you, for agreeing to this.”

She shook her head, the corners of her mouth slightly going up. “No problem.”

Oliver walked towards the door and before he opened it, the boy asked, “will I see you at the match?”

“Maybe.”

“Nice, it’ll be good to see you there,” he’d smiled at her one last time and left the unused classroom. 

Biting down the nail on her thumb, (Y/N) let out a silly giggle, one of those that only escape people’s mouth when they are drunk or can’t get that one person out of their minds. Perhaps she was reading into this situation the wrong way, but for just a tiny moment she didn’t care. She enjoyed the warm feeling on her stomach, as if a ton of thestrals had suddenly decided to fly across it, and the erratic pace of her heart every time Oliver would glance at her or say anything remotely kind. 

Then the realisation came and with it, tangled like some kind of broken and dark creature, her severely damaged pride. She had to admit to Dorian’s face that he was, in fact, correct and that his ridiculous plan may actually work.

TAGS: @peeves-a-legend​ (amazing person and writer, read all of her work!).

[live-laugh-lenney]

The One Where YN Meets Will.

Hello, hi!

I’m Emily, I’ve had this blog for a few months now and I’m not sure what I want to do with it, apart from reblog gifs of Will and catch up on all things Youtube and the Eboys and the Sidemen and all that. Thought about giving writing a go, since I’ve done some before on another blog for another fandom, and this came from my brain as an attempt at writing for WillNE.

I am willing to take requests or write anything that anyone wants me to write about, if anyone would like one written for a specific idea.

Hope you like it. x

A consistent buzz came beside her.

Rumbling on top of her bedside table, her phone laid overturned and ringing with an incoming call from someone, charging on the thick Stephen King book that she was halfway through reading, ripples rolling over the surface of the water in the tall glass placed next to it, that she took to bed with her the previous night. She glanced at the salt lamp, small and jagged-looking and emitting a dull orange glow behind the sunlight that streamed through her windows, and gave herself a tut for leaving it on overnight; she couldn’t remember leaving it on although she couldn’t help but give a mental clap at how truthful the benefits of having a Himilayan salt lamp had been.

‘MUM’

The three letter word flashed at her in bold text, above a candid photo that someone had taken of her and her mum in a heart-to-heart chat in the middle of a family barbecue that had taken a turn once her father had found the alcohol stash in the garage and turned a casual family get-together into a night where everyone stumbled over the front doorstep on their way out. A heart-to-heart conversation that had them both smiling brightly at one another.

“Mum, hi.”

“Hi, darling.” Her voice sounded so soft, so sweet, inviting and warm and YN missed her more than anything; if she had anything to say about moving miles away, she would always give the advice of making sure distance was something you could handle. “You sound tired, did I wake you? I thought you’d be on your way to work by now.”

YN looked at the red numbers on the screen of her alarm clock, reading 7:45, and she had a tiny freak-out for a brief moment before she came to the realisation that it was her day off and she wasn’t due into work until after the weekend had finished.

“You did, yeah. I’m not due at work today though. They gave me the day off since my boss’ schedule is just meetings out of town today. He’s up North for conferences and such and it was late notice for me so he didn’t mind me not accompanying him. I wouldn’t have been able to do much anyway,” YN clarified and she used her free hand to push herself up from the mattress. Her hair was knotted and pillow-messed, sticking up in all directions and falling loose from the ponytail she’d thrown it up in before she fell asleep. Her t-shirt twisted around her middle which she adjusted with her fingers, bringing her knees to her chest and staring out the window as the sun continued its rise in the horizon. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t fuss about me,” she heard her mother tut from down the line. But YN couldn’t help but fuss over the two of them; if she lived closer to them, she wouldn’t worry so much because they’d be just a short distance away if they needed her help. But she didn’t live close and she hadn’t done for almost two years; she lived almost 300 miles northeast of where she used to live with her parents and it wouldn’t take her more than twenty minutes to tend to their needs. “We’re both fine, stop worrying yourself, darling. Your dad’s been back doing his gardening so he’s out there already. Watering his flowers, spraying fertiliser, cleaning all the fox poo up. He’s been growing some veggies in the plot next to the greenhouse so you can take some back when you next come to visit.”

YN smiled to herself, bringing her shoulders to her jawline before dropping them and relaxing against her headboard. The back of her head resting against the plush velvet, coloured a clean white, and her toes curled into the sheet beneath her, her fist clutching the duvet as she brought it tighter to her body.

“You can always send me some in a box? Or you could come and visit and drop them off yourself? You know I’ve got the spare room in the new place if you want to come up for a weekend. It’s vacant, just full of my empty moving boxes and bags that I haven’t gotten rid of yet,” YN said, a yawn creeping up her throat that she hid with the palm of her hand, “I need dad’s handyman work to come and help put some shelves up. You’ve not seen it yet.”

“Your dad said it’s a lovely flat. Lovely view. Lovely building. But, you know what he’s like when it comes to describing things. Everything’s lovely,” her mother snorted and YN laughed softly; her father had always been vague and she’s pretty sure that she’d never heard him use any other word to describe something other than ‘lovely’. “We’ve been talking about paying you a visit.”

“Please do. It’s a little lonely here by myself. I’m yet to meet new friends or have a chat with the neighbours. Everyone’s either back in Cornwall or back in Hackney and both are a hefty distance away.”

YN had never considered herself as an introvert so to call herself lonely felt strange.

She was always the friend who asked for the bill, she was the friend who made the complaint in a restaurant when a plate of food came back wrong, she was the friend who made advances on blokes in pubs and clubs because her friends were too shy to go and introduce themselves and she was the friend who always carried the responsibility of making polite conversation with people in pubs when they needed a table to perch themselves at. She was that friend. So making friends with strangers and starting conversations with her co-workers and approaching others who she found had kind features was never something she struggled with.

Moving to a new place and having to make new relationships and form new bonds, regardless of how far it was from the bonds and relationships you already had, she found it daunting to start fresh.  

“What are you doing today?”

“I’m not sure. The weather is really nice and it looks warm out so I might go and explore Canary Wharf and see what’s around. I need to do some shopping, food and furniture, so I might do some of that,” YN rolled onto her side and let her cheek rest against the cold side of her mattress, the backs of her thighs exposed to the cool air of her bedroom as her t-shirt rose up her body; and she made a mental note to buy herself so proper pyjamas because knickers and an oversized t-shirt could cause more problems than expected. “We’ve got a lovely grass area outside the block of flats so I might sit out there, soak up the sunshine, read a book and eat some lunch. I don’t know. Might see how the day goes, I have a good feeling about it.”

“Go exploring. You can find some places to show us when we come to visit,” and YN smiled.

“I’ll do that. You’ll love it mum. This place is amazing. I feel so lucky to have been given something as beautiful as this. I had a crack den for my first flat so this feels like a dream,” she stared at her ceiling. There was no yellow tint from how the previous tenants smoked inside and there were no unusually coloured stains on the ceiling’s coving that caught the eye because of how a stain of that colour shouldn’t have been there, leaving the mystery of just how it got there… and YN didn’t need that kind of stress over something like that. “It doesn’t smell like pee, there’s no syringes outside and there’s no sign of vomit or shit stains on the floor because it’s all laminate.”

“You deserve it, darling. You really do.”

“It’s clean, mum. It came clean, it smells clean, it looks clean. Everything looks brand new and,” YN pauses for a moment, rolling onto her stomach and she sighs with content, “I love it.”

*

After hanging up, she contemplated getting up and getting dressed for the day.

It felt rather tempting to stay in her comfortable loungewear and enjoy the silence, the time to herself and the time off she had been after for so long, taking advantage of Deliveroo and ordering food for breakfast, lunch and dinner rather than cooking something homemade and having the leftovers the next day (or for when she woke up in the early hours with a hankering for something to nibble on, because she could, because she didn’t have an authority figure to tell her no).

By the time her phone call ended with her mother, it was a little over forty-five minutes later and her alarm clock showed a time that she didn’t want to see on her day off; 8:35am. She expected another hour or two added on to her usual sleep schedule, to make a difference to the usual 6am alarm call that had her detesting her job just a tiny bit, but it wasn’t frowned upon because she’d take any given opportunity to speak to her mother. The one person she called her best friend because she really was the only person, apart from her father, that she’d drop anything and everything important for. Her sleep didn’t matter when she got to her the voice of someone she missed so dearly.

Porridge and fruit, a colourful array of strawberries and blueberries and bananas and cranberries in her bowl, and a warm cup of tea had been her breakfast as she caught up with the lifestyle Youtube channel she had been in the loop with. A Youtube channel that she had been a big fan of from the moment she moved to London, one who she turned to in times of need, one that she stumbled across when googling aesthetically pleasing ways to decorate a flat because she really needed to do something about how her Hackney flat had looked before a lick of paint and a hanging plant, one that she continued to view and like and followed tips from, even when it came to her new flat.

“Don’t be afraid to like monochrome and definitely don’t be afraid to follow a colour scheme that might seem ‘out there’ and in your face. If you like lime green then go paint a portion of your wall that colour. If you like the brightest shade of pink then go mad and add some colour to your life. You can never feel more organised than when your surroundings follow a consistent pattern that brings immense amounts of joy when you enter.”

The young girl on her screen, with space-buns either side of her head and an outfit that definitely came from a trendy thrift store clothes rail, sat before a wall of a delicious shade of peach that YN thought looked lovely; not for herself, because she’d stuck with the whites and the greys and the blacks that her flat already consisted of, but perfect for the young twenty-something year old.

“There are loads of websites where you can buy hanging plants, or artificial hanging baskets, and hanging canvas prints and wall art. I’m always looking for new things to buy so I’ll link some of my favourite online stores for you to check out; hit my Instagram mentions up with photos of things you’ve brought, too. That’s what I love to see.”

YN’s spoon clinked against the ceramic bowl in front of her as she pushed it away from her, reaching for her television remote and turning off her Youtube app, her television turning off completely and leaving a black screen behind. The flat falling silent. She looked around her, drumming her fingers against the tabletop, eyes squinting as the sunlight streamed through the wall-to-ceiling windows and made everything feel bright..

As much as she warmed to the idea of staying inside and ordering furniture and decor for her home, scrolling through online stores to buy something she thought she needed but really didn’t need, she had a good feeling about the upcoming day.

*

“Listen, love, I’m not sure if you could tell but I’m not exactly a people person. I don’t know you, don’t want to know you, have no plans to get to know you. You might live in the building but that doesn’t mean we need to be friendly.”

He spoke with such vigour in his voice that YN could only keep quiet so as to not entice a negative reaction out of him in such a confined space because confrontation was something she was never comfortable with. Sure, she’d endured confrontation before but that was from people she had been acquainted with, the ones she was friends with, people she saw on a daily basis and from people she worked with, from those who were supposed to confront her when something was wrong or hadn’t been down in a way it was supposed to be done; her boss, mainly. This man was a complete stranger, someone she didn’t know,someone she’d never seen before so instant regret filled her veins. She thought he looked friendly enough to start a quick conversation, to make the lift ride seem a little less boring, filling the empty space with general chit-chat.

Cowering away from him and almost closing in on herself, even though his attention stayed focused on the screen of his phone as he scrolled through a social media app, she thought he’d finished with her and she hadn’t expected him to perk up anymore.

“Not everyone likes to chat to strangers.”

“Well, I like chatting to strangers so don’t mind him,” a quirky Geordie accent perked up from behind her, her posture adjusting at the sudden appearance of someone behind her; she’s sure she didn’t see anyone else in the lift, apart from the towering bloke beside her, when she stepped into the lift but, then again, he was tucked away in the corner with a cap on his head and she had been looking at the floor as she entered because a mark on her white shoe had caught her attention. “Come chat to me, if you want. Promise I won’t bite your head off like matey-boy there.”

Her trainers squeaked on the floor as she spun around, eyes raking up and down his figure so she could get a good look at who the voice belonged to, almost staking him out in a way. He was a handsome chap, with brown hair sticking out from beneath a black cap upon his head that he’d pulled quite far down his forehead, a cheeky grin on his face that made the mood in the lift much brighter. There was a graphic print printed on the front of the black hoodie he had decided to throw on, the commonly-known Adidas stripes lining the length of his joggers, trainers on his feet with the laces loose and almost untying by themselves (clumsy, she assumed he was, because there’s no way he wouldn’t trip over them as soon as they loosened completely).

“I’m Will. Will Lenney.”

“I’m YN.”

“Do I get your surname? S’only fair since I told you mine.”

She laughed softly and replied with her surname, a look of appreciation on his features as he held his hand out for her to take, which she gladly shook with her own. Skin so soft, fingers so delicate, with a hold so strong that she couldn’t find herself letting go. She didn’t want to let go. This was the first contact she’d had with someone new, in a month of being new to the area, and it just so happened to be with someone she found rather attractive to the eye.

The bloke from before, who had tore down her attempts at being the friendly neighbour who he would, no doubt, see quite often, couldn’t help but let out the strongest sigh of annoyance. A sound that brought them back to reality, hands falling from their hold, dropping back down to their sides with a faint rosy-look on their cheeks that didn’t come from how warm it was. A sound that made the both of them turn their noses up, that made them their eyebrows scrunch on their browlines and made them want to really throw words at him until he gained some manners. Yet they ignored him because he wasn’t worth the time.

“You’re new here, aren’t you? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he started, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder that had slipped with the movement of his arm falling down to his side. His fingertips and right down to the middle of his palm still felt heavy with the thought of her hand still in his. “I’d remember such a beautiful face.”

The heat already on her cheeks reached boiling and she knew her flushed look caught his attention. His smile turning into a grin which had her looking at her feet, shyly. A handsome lad with a sense of immense charm about him; she liked him and it wasn’t typical of her to form an attraction at such an early stage.

“Yeah, I moved in about a month ago. Floor 10, right at the end of the corridor. A proper upgrade from where I used to be located but thanks to my work, they moved me from my previous office block to my current office block in Canary Wharf and said they’d move me closer if necessary,” she thought she was rambling and she expected a look of faint annoyance on his features that would silently tell her to shut up. She picked at the loose string hanging from the hem of her t-shirt and twirled it around her finger, looking up from her feet and seeing a look of intense concentration on his face, enticing her to carry on. “The move was necessary. Completely necessary. It wasn’t a nice place where I was before, it was the first thing I saw on the website and I was desperate for somewhere to live. If I stayed there, I would be half an hour away otherwise.”

Canary Wharf.

It was a complete upgrade from the streets of Hackney and the dingy flat she had become so accustomed to for a little less than a year; the smell of weed and tobacco would fill the corridors and hit her in the face when she left her front door, the lights were always dim and flickered and the lifts were rickety and untrustworthy, discarded bikes and scooters and old prams and baby-carriers littered the space between one end of the hallway to the other, suspicious figures dressed in black hoodies and grey joggers always greeted her with stone-cold faces and squared-up jaws. An attempt, she guessed, to look like they were the typical hardnuts of the complex and that they weren’t to be messed with, even if it was just a polite ‘excuse me’ to pass them by and to be out of their hair within a moment.

It wasn’t all bad, regardless. Her neighbours were sweethearts, they always said hello and invited her in for cups of tea and a slice of cake after she finished work, most people were kind and warm and had their own back stories as to why they chose such a place to live - she could only imagine that the building was a nice place to live, with residents who took care of themselves and the place they lived in, before London gangs took over and were on the high of increasing and before drug dealers became more frequent on the streets - and her life, thank god,  was never bothered. No one intervened, no one found her life to be their business to spread and life felt normal; she had a home, somewhere to live, somewhere to sleep and eat and shower and feel warm and cosy in a bed. Even if it wasn’t as nice as she had wanted it to be, she had somewhere.

Her new flat was almost dream-like if you compared it to what she lived in before. It made her Hackney flat look like a pit; a drug-den, if you will. She could wake up to pure sunshine filtering through double-glazed windows and there was no chance that she would be rudely woken up in the middle of the night from the ghoulish moans of the wind getting trapped between cracked window panes or the drunken yells of people stumbling down the hallways back to their homes. She could walk to her new place of work rather than hop on public transport and she could take the time to explore a side of London she never had the chance to see. Her floor was laminated wood, heated when the nights were cold, and there were no stains of garishly and disgusting colours of god-knows-what from previous tenants who had lived there. The view was beautiful, she could see right to the end of the horizon, and the scenes she was greeted with on her arrival home were almost picturesque… except pictures could never do it justice.

She’d been there for a month.

A whole four weeks.

And she could already feel improvements in her lifestyle that weren’t so bold before. She woke up happier and didn’t feel the need to stay in bed for a lie-in, she felt happier during the day and had a bob in her step that brought light to her office block, she felt safe when she walked out the reception and into the open space by the entrance and didn’t feel like she would be jumped by hiding predators if she arrived home late at night. She was friendly with her neighbours, always popped round to give them any post that had been posted through her mailbox by accident or if deliveries were left with them when she’d been at work and always started a conversation with them when they stood waiting for the lift to arrive on their floor.

“Oh, nice. What is it-”

The ding of the lift stopped Will mid-sentence, silenced them and halted their conversation as the doors opened to reveal the reception floor, empty and desolate from people. It was mid-morning, almost lunchtime, so YN had assumed most were working or out in the streets of London to enjoy the sunshine; the latter being what she had planned to do.

The man from the lift, who had tucked himself in the corner and stuck earphones in to block out their conversation, made sure he was the first one out and disappeared before YN could give him a sarcastic goodbye, not that he would have heard her anyway so she settled with a wave, a really exaggerated and over-the-top wiggle of her fingers, and hoped he saw it in the reflection of the window as he left and disappeared into the mass of people walking by their block of apartments.

“You’re a right character, you,” Will admitted, nudging her with his elbow and smirking at her, “what is it you do, job-wise? That’s what I wanted to ask.”

“I’m a PA for a CEO at an advertising company. A personal assistant who runs and gets coffee for everyone, gets lunch during her lunch-break, who organises meetings and creates schedules and gets the big boss what he wants when he wants it,” she clarified, “it’s not exactly the best job and I wish I was doing something I wanted to do but it pays well. For now, it’s enough to get me by and keep this place.”

They started walking toward the automatic doors of the entrance, feeling the cool air of the shade on their exposed skin that definitely disappeared as soon as the sunshine hit them, coming to a stop just by a brick wall. Young children were running around with their parents walking behind, cyclists were dinging bells to pass through large groups and groups of university students were huddled on the grass, eating lunches they’d brought from restaurants on their way, backpacks discarded and being used as pillows as they laughed and joked. Tourists were taking photos and posing to show off where they’d been and what they got up to when it came to showing their friends back home and businessmen and businesswomen were almost speed-walking to get back to their offices in time with a styrofoam takeaway lunch in their hands.

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I? Just tell me to piss off if I am.”

“No, no. Don’t be silly. I’m only popping round the corner to see my mate. He won’t mind if I’m late,” he said, perching down on the brick wall and patting the space beside him. The legs of his ankles rose up to show the white ankle socks he’d paired with his trainers., “What is it you want to do as a job? Just, the way you talk about your job now makes it sound like you don’t like it.”

“I do like it there. But I don’t want to be a personal assistant, running round London to get coffee and sandwiches, for the rest of my life. I’ve always dabbled in blogging, taking photos, talking about nonsense and stuff. Posting videos and vlogging, too. I’ve tried it out as something fun, documenting holidays and stuff, and I’d love to do something with that and take it further but... I don’t know,” she sat down beside him, sliding her bag off of her shoulder and setting it on her lap, arm looped underneath the handles to keep it from spilling the contents inside, “I don’t want to be a social influencer but someone who does what she wants to do and gets by by just being herself. No companies to promote her or anything. Nothing to boost her. All her,” she stared off into the distance, tapping the heel of her foot against the concrete. Will nodded. “What do you do?”

“I, uh,” he scoffed out a laugh and rubbed the nape of his neck. His hat fell from his head and he decided to swap the shade of the cap to the sunglasses he had hanging from the neck of his hoodie, “funnily enough, I post videos on Youtube. I’m a Youtuber.”

Her head whipped round and she gawked at him. Eyes wide, mouth agape and her hand found his forearm, squeezing it tightly with excitement.

“You’re not?”

“I am, yeah. I was in university, didn’t like what I was studying, and I was told that if I really felt strongly about this Youtube malarky then I should pursue it to its possible potential and see where I end up. My mum’s words, not mine,” he snorted. He felt her hand loosen around his forearm and he watched her face become rigid as she came to the realisation of what she’d done. He dismissed it because he didn’t want to embarrass her but, really, he didn’t mind and he found it endearing.  “I’m not that big or popular or anything but I’ve got a couple million subscribe-”

“Not that big,” she mocked and rolled her eyes, “a couple million subscribers is huge. I’ll have to search you up. What’s your channel name?”

“WillNE. Like, Will then an N then an E. Like a-”

“Like a play on words with your surname,” she grinned as she proudly finished his sentence for him and he nodded, rather pleased with himself; and she had to give it to him, it was something special, unique and rather creative than some of the stand-out names she could think of from the platform. Some were really out there and had no relevance to who they were nor what they spoke about, some were vague and some were almost as bonkers as the people who came up with them. “That’s really cool. This is really cool. A famous Youtuber lives in my flat complex... I’m talking to a famous Youtuber right now... heck, I’ve managed to keep my cool around someone famous and I’m amazed I haven’t embarrassed myself. Wait till I tell my friends about this. They won’t believe me.”

“They’re not fangirls or anything, are they?”

“No, ha. If anyone’s the fangirl out of my friends then it’s me. I’ll find myself watching Youtube when I’ve got nothing else to do,” she admitted, “cooking dinner? I’ll stick someone on to watch. Can’t sleep? I’ll just binge watch someone until I’m tired. Day off and there’s nothing to do? I’ll find a channel and just let it go from there.”

“Maybe I’ll pop up on there one day. I’ll help cure your boredom,” Will grinned, “then you can say ‘hey, that’s one of my mates there on my telly, that is’.”

A comfortable silence swallowed the both of them as they sat and let the seconds tick by. The tweets of the birds came from above, distant chatter came from the students lounging on the grass behind, scuffs of soles signified people were walking and jogging nearby and despite the feeling of time coming to end between the two of them, neither of them wanted to leave the other, neither wanted to bring the conversation to an end and neither of them wanted to part ways.

“So, we’re mates, huh?”

“Yeah, I reckon so,” Will smiled. Eyes locking with hers for a brief second, long enough to catch the twinkle in her eye and the genuine smile that lifted up her lips, “you’re a good’un. I like you. I think we’ll get along really bloody well, me and you.”

*

(WILL’S TEXTS. YN’S TEXTS.)

Filming a video tomorrow. Fancy coming by?

Won’t I get in the way?

Bollocks will you. Come along. Please. You can see firsthand how to make a Youtube video since you said you’ve always thought about it.

Where?

Only at my place. A TWOTI.

This Week On The Internet… nice one. I’ll be there.

You’ve done your research on me!

Spent all day googling you. As soon as you walked away, I started my research and I cut my day short so I could come home and watch your videos. Just call me a superfan now.

Superfan, ha.

I’ll have to test you. Could get you in a video to see if you’re my biggest fan.

Try me. I’ll get full marks. Your subscribers will look like phonies compared to me, hahaha.

You might have to sit off camera, out of shot, tomorrow. If I don’t finish everything by the time you get here, that is. No distractions. No pulling faces behind the camera.

I’ll be on my best behaviour. I’ll fangirl at the door, drop my Twitter handle into conversation, ask for a signature and a photo and then I’ll be fine.

I’m not going to regret this, am I?

You won’t hear a peep out of me. Promise.

Come by after lunch then. We can get some takeaway for lunch or something, if you don’t eat before, and I’ll have some bits filmed by the time you get here so you won’t have to sit in silence for too long.

Make it 1pm and it’s a deal.

Why 1pm?

It’s Saturday tomorrow. I don’t get up before noon on the weekends. Not even for you, mister big-shot Youtuber. ;)

And here I was, thinking you would throw your routine away for your new best mate.

Nice try.. see you tomorrow, William.

Ohh, serious. Full name and all. I see how it is, YN.

Goodnight, you muppet.

See you tomorrow. x

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 10!!!!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Guys. It’s been a week now since this started. I just wanted to say again, thank you to all the lovely folk who have liked, reblogged, followed, messaged, and replied. You keep me motivated and loving every word that I write, knowing that I’ll get to share it with you.

“We- ah, defeated! The three,” Marinette was saying to the police, and Damian stopped and listened, bewildered, as she played up her French accent, searching for words he was absolutely certain she knew. “And then we hid in the dark room, and I kept Mme. Isley quiet, as they looked for us. And then Red Hood came, and told us it was safe, and took Mme. Isley, and we came out to you.”

Gordon looked tired, but that did seem to be a Police Commissioner’s natural state. “Thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Damian Wayne. Let’s get your statement, real quick, and then you can go.”

Damian cocked one brow. “We were in a back room, speaking, when Pamela stumbled in, injured. Marinette bound her wound while I called for help. We were found by some of Scarecrow’s lackeys, but we managed to subdue them before hiding, until we were given an all clear by Red Hood. He took Pam, and we came here.”

Gordon grinned lightly. “Succinct as always. I’ll let your dad know if we need anything else.”

“It is appreciated, Commissioner.” Damian inclined his head, and offered an arm back to Marinette. “We’ll be on our way.”

The walk to the hotel was silent. Damian guided her, and she seemed lost in her own head.

Until they reached the hotel. As they stepped through the doors, Marinette was torn from his arms by two blondes. He tensed, preparing to fight, until he realized that Marinette was reaching back for them.

“How dare you, Dupain-Cheng! Have you even checked your phone? Do you know how worried we’ve been?” The blonde girl cried out. Damian, grateful he knew French, sat back to observe. “The whole city’s been talking about Scarecrow attacking the gardens, and you were there-“

“You really scared us, Mari,” the boy echoed, holding her tight. It took Damian all off half a moment to recognize him from the pictures Jon had shown him as his friend’s soulmate. How interesting.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Marinette consoled them. “Look, see, I’m okay-“

“You’re covered in BLOOD,” the girl screeched.

“Not mine,” Marinette insisted, “I’m perfectly unharmed-“

“Who’s this?”

Jon’s soulmate was looking at him. He’d spoken the last words in English. Marinette turned back to look at him apologetically as the girl also cast her eyes his way.

“I’m Damian,” He intoned. “Though I’m certain you both already know that.”

“This is Chloé, and I’m Adrien,” Adrien grinned at him, looking as smug as the cat that caught the canary.

Chloé sniffed. “We’re important people, Adrien. Last names. We’re Chloé Bourgeois and Adrien Agreste, Damian.”

Marinette, for her part, looked exasperated and was turning pink. “Guys, please-“

“It’s important that he knows who he’s up against if he does anything,” Chloé steamrolled on over Marinette’s protestations. “Rich boy or not, Marinette’s got us in her corner. And I’m not above using my superpowers to get revenge.”

“Alright, Queen Bee,” Adrien rolled his eyes, and very suddenly Damian realized that the bossy, screechy girl hanging off of his soulmate was one of the elusive heroes that Tim had spoken about last night.

“Enough.” Marinette’s voice cut across them, and Damian turned back to her. She looked at Damian in return, assessing, almost waiting.

“I’d like to spend more time with you, if you aren’t too worn out by all the excitement,” he found himself offering.

And he was rewarded by her bright smile. “I’d like that, too. Adrien, Chloé, I’m going to change, and you aren’t allowed to be your usual brat selves until I get back. Play nice.”

She walked away, and Damian was left staring after her. He’d found himself in turns very wary, very interested, and very awestruck by Marinette, and it was honestly something like how he thought a spinning top might feel, constantly unsure of how he would land.

Very disconcerting.

“She’s always like this,” Adrien advised, still grinning smugly as he clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll just have to learn to live with it.”

“Hmph,” Chloé moved so that she was leaning on Damian. He fought the urge to shove both her and Adrien away, possibly with some actual force. At this point not only was it in his best interest to play nice with Marinette’s friends, but he was also entirely sure they were doing this to mess with him. “One would hope that a soulmate wouldn’t just learn to live with something, but rather enjoy these things about their soulmate.”

“You can’t stand that Kagami will drink her coffee after it cools,” Adrien shot back. “There are things that you can dislike about your soulmate.”

“Not for Marinette.”

The tone of their conversation had become dangerously serious, and both blondes were still practically hanging off either side of him, conversing around him as if he were a particularly in the way wall. They were still in the lobby of the hotel, though he appreciated that their voices stayed low despite their- enthusiasm.

Damian stayed silent.

“No,” Adrien agreed slowly. “Not for Marinette. What say you, Damian?”

“I am not entirely certain what I would be agreeing to, honestly.” Damian wasn’t sure which of them he was supposed to be looking at, but they were both doing their best to stare straight into him. “I am also mostly certain that Marinette would consider this as you being your usual brat selves, as she put it.”

“Hmm,” Chloé squinted at him. “Rich boy’s got some bark. What about bite?”

“Rich boy kept Mari safe during a villain attack,” Adrien pointed out. “So he’s not useless. Also, rich boy? I’m rich. You’re rich. Was it supposed to be an insult?”

“Oh, Adrikins,” Chloé pouted. “Don’t play dumb. We’re rich, but neither of us is anywhere near Wayne Rich.”

“This is utterly ridiculous.” Damian finally pulled himself out of their grasps, though he notices neither of them so much as wobbles as they deal with the sudden imbalance. “If you two will not reign in whatever inane urges you have to bother me, I will simply wait for Marinette somewhere else.”

Adrien stood up again, shaking imaginary dust off of himself. “Alright, alright. Cool it, Chloé, he wasn’t a pushover or too rude towards us.”

Chloé was still glaring towards him. “Well. He’s passed the first test, at least. The jury is still out, especially since he hasn’t met Kagami or Luka, yet.”

“If you could stop threatening him, for two seconds!” Marinette dashed back over, and Damian had to keep his jaw from dropping. She’d been stunningly pretty in an innocent way, in the floral dress before, but now she was-

Well. She was gorgeous.

Her hair was down, damp but loosely wavy. She’d put on dark jeans and a pink top that shimmered with each movement, a scooped neckline that only just concealed where he now knew his name sat curled over her shoulder. She had a dark lump over one arm, and he assumed it would be a light jacket until she shook it out and revealed a triangular black shawl. In a second she had draped it artfully over her shoulders, completing the look.

“Disgustingly pretty as always,” Chloé sneered, but Damian caught the way the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile.

“So, Damian, what do you suggest we do?” Marinette ignored her friends, securing his arm again, and he let her. It felt normal now, the way the low buzz settled into his bones with the contact.

He gave Chloé and Adrien one last look before following her lead and ignoring them, turning her towards the door. “I intended to take you to lunch, if you would allow me. After your first official villain attack, I would like to show you some of the better aspects of Gotham.”

She gave him the same bright smile, and he felt like he was finally starting to understand why all it took was looking at Kori for Dick to start grinning sappily. He smiled back. His entire reputation as being haughty, angry and stoic was going to fall to shambles the moment anyone ever saw her with him. He resolved himself to being made fun of by his entire family for weeks, if not months.

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[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 17

cruel summer masterlist

AN: 17 is my lucky number, but it is not Rowan’s. Sorry this thing is still hurting some of you. I think it’s still going to end up about 25 chapters, so... we’re moving forward. I swear! Okay, byeee.

Thump.

Rowan wakes up, unsettled by a loud noise coming from the living room.

“Shhh…” A loud whisper hushes. “My roommate is sleeping,” Manon slurs, followed by excessive giggling.

He looks at the clock. Just past 3AM. Rowan frowns. This is not what the needs right now.  

Another thump followed by an “Ow!” and more giggles wakes him up entirely.

Another too loud shush as he hears two bodies stumble towards Manon’s bedroom, laughter trailing after them the whole way.

Manon’s door slams shut, and Rowan tries to close his eyes and fall back asleep. But soon soft moaning begins. Rowan rubs his hand over his face and cringes. He is so not in the mood for this. He just wants to sleep and temporarily forget about all his troubles. Is that too much to ask for?

He usually sleeps through Manon’s exploits. But not tonight. The moans are interlaced with profanities and the sound of thumping against the wall. The moans reach a crescendo, and Rowan has never been so insanely grateful for people to orgasm and go to sleep. But, minutes later, the moaning starts again.

Rowan puts his pillow over his head, trying to block out the noise, but he’s too attuned to it. He hears every sigh and whisper and expletive, and his entire body is on alert, far too anxious to fall asleep. He stays awake until the wee hours of the morning when Manon and her paramour finally settle down.

Rowan’s alarm goes off far too soon, much to his dismay. His head throbs with the lack of sleep, and his hand itches beneath his bandage. He knows he’s in for a rough day – and not just because of the event that’s going to happen tonight that he definitely doesn’t want to think about yet.

As he gets ready, he’s shocked to hear movement out in the kitchen. He’s so tired, he can’t imagine anyone else being voluntarily awake right now. He peeks out of his bedroom to see Manon, in her robe, making coffee. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s humming lightly. She smiles like the cat who ate the canary, and Rowan shudders. Smiles look terrifying on her.

“You look like crap again,” Manon says, sipping from her large red mug, eyebrows raised. “Want to tell me what happened last night?” She points to his injured hand.

“Not really,” Rowan says, reaching for the coffee pot himself, but Manon slaps his hand away.

“I’m making that for my guest,” she hisses, narrowing her golden eyes at him.

Rowan ignores her and pours himself a mug. “You and your guest kept me up all night, so I’m going to need some caffeine to make it through today.”

Rowan is dreading today. He really wishes he’d at least been able to sleep.  

“Sorry,” Manon apologizes, though she sounds anything but.

“Hey, babe,” a warm voice calls sleepily. “I thought I heard noise out here.”

The woman who exits Manon’s room is absolutely stunning – she wears one of Manon’s tank tops and a pair of underwear, showing off the expanse of her dark skin, swirling with intricate art. Long dark braids fade to pink and fall down her back, making her look just as effortlessly cool as Manon. Her rich brown eyes flick to Rowan in surprise and she waves timidly.

Manon simply pulls the woman into her side and kisses her cheek. “Nimi, this is Rowan, my roommate. Rowan, this is Nehemia. We met on the yacht last night. You know, after you weirdly bailed.”

Manon is clearly asking Rowan to explain himself, but he’s in far too grumpy to attempt that.

Nehemia holds out her hand, and Rowan shakes it. “You can call me Nimi,” she clarifies, her accent rounding out the sharp vowels of her name. “Like Mimi, but with an N.” She smiles at Rowan, and he’s again awestruck by how beautiful she is. He’s constantly impressed by the caliber of girls Manon brings home, but Nehemia is a step above and beyond. Despite being exhausted, Rowan returns her smile in earnest. He guesses Manon deserves a night of fun, too, despite his own drama.

“I’m going to be late for work,” Rowan grumbles, looking at the time.

“This is my surprised face,” Manon deadpans, making Nehemia giggle that same giggle that Rowan heard over and over last night.

Rowan wishes them goodbye, and as he closes the door he hears Manon laugh. “Thank gods. I want to hear you scream for me.”

Rowan flees the premises faster, not wanting to even imagine the volume they’re about to reach. Also, he has to desire to be around happily coupled people right now.

He’s never been so glad to go to work. At least at the park, he’ll be distracted all day and around other miserable people.

Except for some reason, everyone at the park is having their best day ever. Even Lorcan, who usually skulks around the ground with a permanent scowl is buoyant and grinning as he hands out tickets with Rowan at the front booth.

He finds out why during his lunch break when Lorcan tentatively approaches Elide and asks if the steak house is okay for dinner tonight, to which Elide readily nods, leaving the pair nervously smiling and blushing at each other.

Gods, does everyone have a date tonight, Rowan wonders to himself. What was in those cocktails last night? Some sort of aphrodisiac?

Rowan pulls out his phone, notably devoid of text notifications, and wonders if he should reach out to Aelin. He wants her to be thinking about him during her date. He knows that’s selfish and stupid and totally the opposite of what he asked for, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t trust Sam at all, and something plagues Rowan’s stomach; that Sam will be in Aelin’s life long after he leaves it. The thought makes him nauseous.

He sits, picking at his lunch, but unable to really eat. Elide takes the seat next to him and gives him a small smile.

“How’s the hand doing?” she asks, pointing to the bandage still wrapped around Rowan’s palm. He shrugs. “You were missed last night,” Elide says, her tone insinuating much more than her plain words.

Rowan chuckles softly and looks at Lorcan, who is staring at the back of Elide’s head. “Yeah, what the hell happened after I left? I got woken up by…uh…company.”

Elide laughs back. “Oh man, isn’t Nimi so cool? She’s a friend of Dorian’s.” Her eyes glaze over, as if she’s playing the night back across her memory. “Basically, we decided to get sloshed and be each other’s wingmen.”

“It seems like you were all successful,” Rowan says, stabbing a piece of his cold chicken. Elide smiles and looks over her shoulder at Lorcan, who immediately looks down at being caught staring. “So, how’d that happen?” Rowan asks, curious about his two managers. “When I left Lorcan was not at the party…”

“Manon told me to stop being a coward – except, she used a much crasser word that I don’t like saying out loud.” Elide scrunches her nose. “So, I showed up drunk on Lorcan’s doorstep.”

Rowan’s jaw drops. “You did what?”

“Shut up. I know.” Elide covers her face. “I’ve never done anything like that in my entire life.”

“So, what happened?” Rowan asks, leaning forward. This gossip is the best kind of distraction for his aching heart.

Elide looks through her fingers, embarrassed. “He put me to bed in his bed and slept on the couch.” She snorts. “And then this morning I got really mad at him for not making a move, and he said that he would never take advantage of a drunk woman.” She smiles softly. “And that he insisted on taking me out first.” Elide takes a large sip of her drink and frowns. “Gods, I’m sorry. You didn’t need all those details. I haven’t even told Aelin yet.”

Rowan clears his throat, unsure if he should ask what he’s going to, but he can’t stop himself. “And did Aelin meet anyone new?”

Elide furrows her brows and frowns. “No. I assumed she went to go meet you?” Elide says. “She left the party with her parents shortly after you did.”

“Oh.” Rowan isn’t sure what to make of that detail. He stabs another bite of chicken.

Elide starts to say something and then pauses, and then starts again. And then pauses. Rowan rolls his eyes in frustration. “Just spit it out.”

“You should just tell her,” Elide says. Rowan raises an eyebrow at the petite brunette. “That it’s not casual for you.” Rowan swallows thickly but shakes his head and scoffs. Elide continues. “I’m just saying it as a person who wishes someone had told me to stop being a…” she lowers her voice to the softest whisper, “pussy.” Rowan cracks a small smile. “…sooner.

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

Rowan nods as Elide heads off, left with his head spinning around.

He takes his phone back out and stares at it. He hates the way he left things with Aelin last night. But what is he supposed to text her? Best wishes on your date tonight? No. He can’t say anything. He has to just suffer through this hellish day and hope she wants to talk to him after. The longer he goes without hearing from her, the more he realizes that he doesn’t think he’ll recover if she doesn’t want to see him again. He’s an addict, in dire need of his next hit. He only hopes he didn’t fuck everything up. He’ll keep all his thoughts to himself for the rest of the summer, as long as it means he gets to continue seeing her.

Rowan’s mood worsens in the afternoon. With every minute it gets closer to 8pm, he pictures Aelin getting ready in a fancy dress and doing her hair and applying makeup. For someone else. He thinks of Sam’s disgusting comments from the boat and aggressively rips a ticket in two. His frown scares a little boy making his way onto the carousel, as he skitters quickly past an incredibly grumpy Rowan.

He wonders where Sam is taking her. Probably another fancy restaurant. Dimly lit and romantic. He can’t stand the thought.

By the time the day ends, everyone has learned to avoid Rowan. Even Fenrys, whose smile can always cheer him up, gives Rowan a wide berth in the employee breakroom after he practically growls at him. Fenrys had no idea what he was asking when he asked what Rowan was up to tonight, but he knows he’ll never unleash that beast again. Rowan has no idea how he’s going to distract himself tonight. He’s all out of whiskey.

On his way home, Rowan calls his mom. It’s been a while since he’s done more than text her, and he’s relieved when she answers the phone, despite the late hour.

She can tell Rowan is in a foul mood nearly immediately.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks, and Rowan groans.

“I just got no sleep last night. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, wishing he could be more cheerful for his mom, who he loves so much. She seems unfazed by his crabbiness, though.

“I was going to keep it a surprise, but there’s a present in the mail for you,” Dora says.

“What?” Why?” he asks, shocked.

“Because I saw it, and I knew you needed it. Don’t argue with me.” Her tone is resolute. “Just say thank you.”

“Thank you, ma,” he says, his mood lifting slightly.

“You’re welcome, Ro,” she says with a yawn. “Get some sleep tonight.”

She kisses loudly into the receiver, and Rowan can’t help but smile. Maybe he can get through tonight after all.

When Rowan arrives home, he cracks opens his front door, unsure if Manon and Nimi are still going to be at it, but luckily Manon is alone, lounging on the couch, watching TV. He nods hello.

Manon gestures to his room. “Something came for you while you were at work. I put it in your room.”

Rowan finally smiles, excited to see what his mom sent him. But when he opens his bedroom door, he’s shocked to see not a package on his bed, but Aelin, curled up with her arms wrapped around herself, cheeks stained black with remnants of watery mascara, and turquoise eyes staring vacantly into the distance.

“Aelin?” Rowan rushes to her side, perching himself on the edge of the bed. “What are you doing here?” He pauses, but she still doesn’t answer. “Are you okay?” he asks, though the answer is incredibly obvious.

Tears spill from her eyes onto his pillow as she shakes her head and sniffles loudly. Rowan looks her over. She looks so small, knees tucked into her chest. He takes in her dress, now wrinkled and crumpled from laying on her side. He tentatively touches her bare shoulder, and she startles beneath his touch, jolting slightly, and Rowan narrows his eyes.

“Did…” He swallows nervously. “Did he… hurt you?”

Aelin shakes her head again, and Rowan releases a shaky breath. Thank gods for small favors.

“Aelin,” he pleads as he watches her helpelessly. “You have to tell me what happened. You’re scaring me.”

“I d-didn’t g-go,” she mumbles, so quietly that Rowan isn’t quite sure he heard her right.

She pushes herself upright, tears still dripping down her cheeks. “I g-got in-to a hug-ge f-fight with m-my mom,” she stutters between ragged breaths, clearly trying to keep her tears at bay.

Rowan wipes his thumb across her wet cheek, pushing the tears away, but they come in steady streams.

“Y-you were r-right,” she whispers through sniffs. She closes her eyes and takes a deep, centering breath. When she opens them again, blue gold eyes stare into his, and he’s nearly knocked out by the emotion he sees swirling in them. “No one can make me do anything I don’t want to. I’m done pretending.” She breathes heavily. “Sam s-sucks,” she says, her voice cracking slightly.

Rowan smiles softly at her. “I could have told you that,” he says, and she chuckles humorlessly.

“My mom did not feel the same way…” she trails off, and the flash of hurt in her eyes tells Rowan that there’s a lot more to her fight than she’s willing to admit to him. “It was the worst fight we’ve ever had.” She breathes deeply. “I can’t go back there tonight.”

“You can stay here as long as you want,” Rowan says, and he means it. It’s not entirely a selfless offer.

Rowan leans forward tentatively and kisses Aelin’s forehead. She exhales a shaky breath beneath his touch, and he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her onto his lap. Her tears return in full force as she cradles herself against him. Dark splotches mar his shirt with her running makeup. She leans back and swipes at her cheeks.

“Oh g-god, I’m getting your sh-shirt all d-dirty,” she cries, the small detail making her even more upset. “I’m s-sorry. A crying g-girl s-so isn’t wh-what you s-signed up-p for.”

“I don’t care,” Rowan says emphatically, drawing her closer, and Aelin settles against his chest again. He runs his fingers through her golden hair, starting at her scalp and running all the way down the middle of her back, repeating the movement over and over until it becomes meditative. She sniffles quietly against him, her tears running dry as she calms down.

When her breaths finally even out, Rowan kisses the top of her head and tries to lift her off his lap, but she clings to him harder.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, and she nods, unclasping her fingers and letting him go. He goes to his dresser and grabs a worn in band tee and some boxers and tosses them onto the bed. He tugs his work clothes off and grabs some sweatpants from his bottom drawer. As he stands, two delicate hands wrap around his bare torso and soft lips press between his shoulder blades.

Rowan twines his fingers with hers as he turns around to look at her. She looks exhausted. The hours of crying have taken their toll on her. Her shoulders slump forward, and her sparkling eyes lack their usual luster. But Rowan thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

She turns around in his arms and lifts her hair. He takes the hint and unzips her dress. She steps out of it and he holds up the band tee for her. She snakes her head through, and Rowan can’t help the surge of delight he feels at seeing her in his clothes. Aelin steps forward and wraps her arms around his neck, holding him close. He returns the hug so tightly he can feel their hearts beating together.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and Rowan hugs her tighter in response. He’d hold her forever if she let him. “Can I wash my face?” she asks, and Rowan nods and points her in the direction of the bathroom. Rowan finishes dressing as she cleans her face, and gets comfortable on his bed. When Aelin comes back out, she frowns at him unhappily.

“What?” he asks, nervous that he’s done something to upset her.

“You put a shirt on,” she complains, and Rowan can’t help but smile widely at that.

“So thirsty,” he says with a laugh, and Aelin finally smiles for the first time all evening.

“I’m actually hungry,” she says, crawling onto the bed next to him. He’s about to call her out for her blatant innuendo when she continues. “With tonight’s upset… I didn’t get to eat dinner.”

Rowan lifts his arm, and Aelin snuggles underneath it. “What are you in the mood for?” he asks. He holds out his phone for her to scroll through the limited delivery options, and Rowan smiles again at the domestic scene.

Aelin decides on Chinese food, and as they wait for it to arrive, they turn on the TV to one of Rowan’s favorite cooking competition shows.

Cuddled together on his bed, Rowan’s heart feels full. He resumes running his fingers through her hair, and Aelin sighs happily. He thinks about Elide’s advice, wondering if he should just tell Aelin what he’s feeling when she breaks the silence herself.

“You’re a really great friend, Rowan,” she says, and Rowan nods, squashing his feelings down again. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” he croaks out, continuing his movements through her hair. She kisses his bandaged hand and holds it in hers. As they sit together, Rowan can’t help but think this doesn’t feel like friendship. In fact, he thinks it feels a lot like love.

~*~*~*~*~

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[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 42

Read on AO3. Part 41 here. Part 43 here.

Summary: It turns out that what most men discuss behind closed doors is the same as what they discuss when the doors are open.

Words: 3750

Warnings: men being gross

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Hi! This is an early chapter because I will likely need 2ish weeks to write these last three each! Maybe I'll surprise myself and crank them out, but they need to be perfect, and I won't compromise, lmao.

I hope you enjoyed this. If you're suffering, please hang in there. We can get through this together!! I promise.

I love all of you very much, am grateful to everyone forever. Stay safe with COVID. <3

When the Council Chamber doors opened, your humanity fled the room, leaving a husk, a red dress scrutinized by a dozen strange men. 

Your Commander sat next to you at the head of the table, clad in an all-black suit, glossy hair sweeping his shoulders and pink lips pursed in thought. His greeting of the Council members  was as generous as a brief flicker of focus, watching them and their expressions as they filed in. One by one, they were seated, and you stared at your hands, sneaking glances at Kylo, avoiding the temptation to be rapt in his beauty. Despite it all, his perfection stirred you--but you couldn’t decide if that stirring was from admiration or irritation. 

With the Knights slated to be dismissed post-meeting, he’d requested you accompany him (come), given that the meeting’s purpose involved you, anyway. It was interesting, this new level of dashed intimacy between you and Kylo Ren--his desire to control you fettered by the shared knowledge that he would inevitably fail to do so. Under any other circumstance, you would have declined his request, but in the end, you’d agreed to come out of sheer determination to find something for the Resistance to use. 

After all, the switchblade was back in your possession, stowed in your dresser, awaiting its own destiny.

“You expect us to have a meeting with a Handmaid present?”

The mention of you snapped you to reality, plunged now into a chamber where your only sanctuary was a man from whom you would refuse any refuge.

Kylo was unfazed. “The meeting concerns her.”

“Does it?” one of them--older, balding--asked. “You’ve become so interested in Handmaids lately.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Another older man, a full head of white hair. Most of them were older, really. “Don’t you remember all those years ago? He hated the idea.”

A third man laughed. “He did!” 

“What did he say to Snoke that one meeting?” the balding one asked. “Something like, how we need to build resources, something something, rather than spend… Spend our time with a harem, or something, was it?”

“No, no, Quinn,” said the white-haired man. “It was, we need a foundation before wasting our time designing a fantasy harem.”

“God Almighty, that’s it! Fantasy harem!” the bald man--Quinn, apparently--replied. “You do have a way with words, don’t you, Ren?”

Kylo said nothing. Deep, deep inside of your chest, a twinge of affection, of hope. That seed of doubt inside of him, the one he’d claimed to have shorn free, had never quite lost its root. You imagined him--younger, less exhausted, the words rolling from his mouth in droll disdain--and fought the urge to smile.

Quinn looked at Kylo. “What finally sold you?” Even with your gaze aimed at your lap, you felt his focus rest on you for a heart-sinking second. “I guess some of them are like good pets. Some are even nice to look at.”

“Like little parakeets.”

“Yes, like those. Or canaries.”

Your stomach churned, and you glimpsed Kylo. His eye twitched.

Quinn nodded. “Anyway. You brought a Handmaid here. Into the Council Chambers.” A pause. “Slightly inappropriate. We’re hoping to get a decent explanation.”

“She’s pregnant,” Kylo said, as if this was a perfectly obvious and thorough answer.

A pause, and a handful of men chattered in congratulations, another couple clapping their hands. Kylo stiffened next to you, like he was shocked by the reality of it, like it hadn’t been his cock cumming inside your pussy that had landed you both in this position. Heat crept up your neck as the semi-celebration peaked and died in murmurs of assurance that, of course, your child would be a boy. It seemed as if no matter where you went, there were groups of strangers hoping to claim your pregnancy and invest its future with their own delusions.

“I get it now.” Quinn shook his head knowingly. “Now that you know how it feels to stake your claim, you’re like a proud owner. You want to show off.” He slapped the table. “Good on you.”

“I don’t know about that,” said the white-haired man. “Pregnant Handmaids should stay at home.”

“Oh, please, Peavey.” Quinn waved him off. “As if you wouldn’t want to do the same thing with yours.”

A man in the back snorted. “He’d have to get her pregnant, first.”

“That goes for all of us!”

Laughter resonated into the high ceilings of the chamber. Spindly spines of disgust crawled down your back.

Quinn sighed in relief. “At least Ren and I have something in common, now.” The smug slug of a man looked at your Commander. “Can’t blame you for wanting to brag.”

A younger Council member, speckled with a short beard, sighed. “I’m jealous,” he said. “I’ve had mine for six months now, and nothing.”

“Ren’s just more of a man than you are, Gideon,” Quinn said.

“No!” Gideon scoffed. “I just need a new one.” His beady eyes raked over you. “Ren, once you’re done with her, I need a chance.” 

Your heart fluttered in your fingertips, and you peered at your Commander from the corner of your wings. His brow quirked. He swallowed. But still said nothing. 

“Yes!” Peavy stared at you now, too, like this was a meat market, and you were the only flesh for sale. “We know she must be a good one. She’s only been there, what, three months? And already pregnant?”

The man in the back clapped. “We need something to show off to God, too!”

Kylo shifted next to you, his nails scraping across the frame of his chair.

“My Handmaid isn’t pregnant either, can I have a shot?”

“Gideon called it first.”

“It’s fine!” Gideon chuckled, smile evident in his voice. “She’ll come to all of our homes.”

“No.”  

The giddy static between the Council members crackled and died, excitement sliced to ribbons by Kylo’s tone.

He cleared his throat. “She won’t.”

In silence, a humming crescendo of confusion. Blood burned your face as you peered from under your wings across the table. A few sputtered, demanding Kylo repeat himself, others settling for blatant disbelief.

“What?” asked Peavey.

Gideon scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, now.” Quinn sighed, tapping the table with his palm. “I know you’ve grown a little attached to your Handmaid, but you have to realize how selfish that is.”

Shaking his head, Gideon inched forward in his seat. “We need children, Ren. The birthrate is--”

Peavey shushed him, gesturing to you. “Not in front of the Handmaid!”

“Well,” he grumbled, chewing his lip. “Whatever. You can’t deny us the opportunity to use--”

Kylo’s jaw tightened. “She’s not for your use.” 

“That’s her purpose!” Gideon replied. “What else is she there for?”

Quinn held up a hand, quieting the ruckus. The other men settled, furious focus switching between him and your Commander. Your heart roared in your ears as silence descended in the chambers. Kylo blinked softly, observing his own reflection in the lacquered table.  

“I see what’s happening.” There was no friendly tinge to his voice, now. “She’s not here because she’s pregnant. She’s here because you have some plan for the future with her.”

The other Commanders muttered to each other, sniping you with side-eye.

Gideon shook his head. “You’re serious? I know you were having fun with your little Handmaid project, but really? A future? With that?” 

Dread thickened in your throat.

“Give it up, Ren.” Peavey sighed. “Even if we ignore the implications of a possible affair--”

“An affair!” Gideon gasped in realization. “Imagine that. Righteous Ren, sleeping with his Handmaid.” He chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “I just can’t imagine a woman wanting to spend time with you.”

“Gideon,” Quinn growled.

“What?” he protested. “I’m not being disrespectful.” He sat forward, hands held up in deference. “Please, believe me, sir, I’m just saying. You don’t have the sunniest disposition.”

Peavey cleared his throat. “Even if! We ignore the implications, Ren. She’s still not your Wife. She never will be.”

Kylo exhaled, straightened in his seat. “There’s nothing stopping me from making it so.”

The other men glanced at each other in disbelief, remained silent.

“All due respect, sir, but laws aren't for you to decide. They're ruled by God, and we’re bound to uphold them.” Quinn placed his elbows on the table, folded his fingers together. “And I don't know if any of us are going to agree with you, here. You're married to Johana, not... this,” he said, gesturing to you. “Your marriage is a sacred bond gifted to you by God.”

“The marriage is irrelevant.”

Another rumble of disagreement throughout the room, like the clinking of cracked glass. 

From the back, an anonymous mutter. “Dear God, he’s lost his mind.”

Kylo grit his teeth, his fists balling in his lap.

“Ren.” This was Peavey, holding out a pacifying palm. “I know you can’t be serious. You remember, right? The roles we created. God’s design. Separate and equal?”

Quinn nodded. “We have different roles for a reason. Wives. Handmaids. Even the Marthas all serve their specific purposes.” He smiled--sycophantic and shit-eating. “It’s not personal. A Handmaid simply isn’t meant to be a Wife.”

Gideon slapped the table in agreement, like this was a jovial discussion, and not a debate about the course of your future--a future which, for the record, was still being decided for you, rather than by you. 

“Exactly. And, I mean, really. Let’s just say we could make her your Wife, after, of course, she’s gotten too old and is infertile.” Gideon laughed. “Would you really want to be married to that? After she’s been used up by so many other men?”

“And who knows how many men she was with before that!” interjected some random member. 

The room erupted into laughter. Fire coursed through your veins, words tingling on your tongue. You glanced at your Commander, who was currently unable to conceal the rapid flutter of muscle under his eye. The knot in his throat bobbed, his voice a hidden dagger.

“Interesting,” he said. A pause. “You sound like Pryde.”

Quinn flicked his wrist, dismissing the insinuation as ridiculous. “Come, now. Pryde was a loose canon with converts.” He looked to Kylo, shaking his head. “You're not foolish enough to murder your entire government without reason. The Eyes would take you before you even got started.”

“If the Angels didn’t get to you first,” Peavey added gravely.

The room fell silent again, all attention aimed on your Commander, awaiting his response. But, characteristically, he said nothing. 

Quinn sighed. “I’m sorry, Ren,” he said. “We’re just not going to approve this.”

 A murmured agreement washed over the room, the dozen men nodding to themselves and to each other. Of course, you’d known this to be the outcome--predicted it the moment you’d sat in his study and he’d asked you to be his advisor. And you knew that there was a part of Kylo that had known it, too, despite his reckless insistence. Nothing else would explain the collection of cadavers he’d cast in his footsteps, all slaughtered to strangle his subjects into subservience.

And it still hadn’t been enough.

Gideon rubbed his stubbly chin, glanced around the room. “It’s just how it’s going to be,” he said. “We’re not afraid, here.”

“You can’t intimidate God’s message,” said Peavey.

Kylo spoke through clenched teeth. “His message.”

“You are meant to serve Him,” Gideon replied. “Just like she is.” 

Peavey nodded. “We all are,” he said. “We all know Snoke trained you well, but even he understood God had final say.”

“Your role isn't to create, Ren. That belongs to no one on this planet.” Quinn leveled your Commander with a solemn stare. “You're just His tool. “

Gideon chuckled. “A weapon, right?” he said, looking around the table. “That’s what Snoke always called him?” 

Another wave of laughter. Underneath the table, like a shadow, Kylo’s hand grasped your knee. You almost choked, stuffing the urge to gawk, chancing a glimpse instead. His lips trembled from the war within his mind, the battle between the side that had its claws in Gilead and the side that was in Gilead’s claws. But it wouldn’t matter if he sharpened his talons to raptor-points; in comparison, Gilead’s were crushing bear paws, pulverizing him in their grizzly grip. In his eyes, behind the churning storm, you saw him, the vulnerable reality of Kylo Ren--the lost, empty, desperate man, starved of love, fed with fury. 

His nails bit into your flesh. Holding your breath, you enveloped his hand with your own. 

“I just… wonder.” It was seconds before you recognized the voice echoing in the empty air as yours. “If we're really meant to serve anybody.”

The Council was silent, speechless in realization of what you’d just done. Beside you, your Commander was equally quiet, staring into the table, his body tense. But he swallowed.

And his fingers curled around yours.

“That’s…” Peavey cleared his throat, face flustered pink as he glanced around the table. “That’s… ridiculous. God decides our destinies.”

“Well,” you replied, “what if we’re destined to make choices? About who we are. And what we want.”

Quinn shook his head, smiling, as if you’d said the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “No, no. God doesn’t want for us to make the wrong choices.” He looked to your Commander, imploring him to interrupt you. “That’s the purpose of Gilead.”

“God gave us the ability to decide, though. The ability to grow.” You squeezed Kylo’s hand. He squeezed back. “Why would he give all of this to us, but then put us on track to be just one thing for the rest of our lives?”

“Because we create chaos without guidance,” replied Quinn, lip curling in ire.

You knew it was stupid. That the words shouldn’t leave your mouth. But to feel Kylo’s fingers in yours, his strength pulsing through your palm, to wallow in his broken gaze--you couldn’t resist. No matter how deeply you hated him, you could not suppress your desire to save him.

You snorted. “What part of Gilead isn’t chaos?”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “Shut her up.” 

“There’s constant war, constant upheaval, constant danger and death--”

“Ren?” Peavey glared at your Commander, gestured toward you.

“--your population is failing, your people are disappearing, your women kill themselves and your men are miserable--”

Quinn snarled. “Ren, what are you doing?”

“--you're all liars! To yourselves and everyone else. Your government is founded on sanctimony and hypocrisy!”

Quinn shot from his seat. Kylo lunged, snatched the back of your chair and yanked it behind him, throwing his body between you and the Council. You were breathless, staring into his heaving back as you spied the other men rising to their feet in confusion. They peered around his broad frame, seeking your gaze, curious to understand. Curious to understand what it was about you that had fractured Kylo Ren’s facade.  

“Back down, Ren.” Quinn’s voice slid like a spear through the thick air. “You’re making a mistake.”

Kylo was still. “No.”

The room was quiet again--your fingers found purchase under your chair, your heart bounding in your throat. Heat radiated in violent ripples from Kylo’s shoulders, like smoke signaling the fire in his blood. Around the table, the Council tensed, and Quinn released a long, slow breath.

“Look,” he said. “I get it. I do. But whatever you think you feel for her, you’re wrong.” His tone was placating. “We all know someone who thought they had some sort of bond with their Handmaid. But once that Handmaid was gone, they realized how foolish they’d been.” 

He received no reply. 

“Because she’s pregnant with your child,” Quinn continued, “we’ll overlook this obvious, flagrant disregard for the law. After she gives birth, she’ll go for re-education, or she’ll head to the Colonies.” He paused. “Either way, you won’t keep her. Not if she endangers Gilead.”

An extended silence as the Council waited for your Commander to respond--a foolish venture which earned them nothing. Kylo’s knuckles were white, quaking with restraint imperceptible to anyone but you. His back swelled, and he drew in a breath through his nose, exhaling as he surveyed the other men in the room. All of them hunched into their invisible shells, terrified to be plucked free and gobbled whole. Fascinating, his power, that even in admonishment, he still inspired dormant fear.

“Another incident like this, and we’ll overlook her pregnancy, next,” said Peavey. “I’m sure the Eyes would be interested to hear your take on your relationship.”

“We are servants of God, first,” Gideon added. “Gilead second. And you third. Remember that.”

Quinn held out a hand, extinguishing the hidden threat in Gideon’s words. “Relax. I’m not interested in starting a mess.” He nodded. “But. This will be your only warning. We don’t want to see or hear about this--” he gestured to you, “--again.” He smiled. “I think that’s enough for today. Let’s meet again in a week. See how you’re feeling then.”

The tiniest puff of air left Kylo’s nose. “Yes.”

“Good.” He straightened his jacket, nodded in farewell. “Under His Eye.”

You sat, shielded by your Commander, as the Council members turned from the table and shuffled out, muttering to each other as they took their exit. Quinn was the last to leave, knowing stare darting between you and Kylo before the massive doors creaked and slammed shut behind him. With his departure, Kylo’s shoulders fell, a black volcano collapsing onto the table, and he ran a hand through his hair. Muffling a sigh in his chest, he turned to look at you--his jaw rigid, his eyes exhausted. He swallowed.

“Come.” He beckoned you forward with his hand.

Blinking, you stood--and Kylo tugged you against his chest, shifting you around so your side was flush with his, his palm steady at the small of your back. Your mind went blank; you gazed up at him, baffled as he shuffled you forward, keeping his strides in pace with yours. There were no real words that would come to you, but you suppose it didn’t matter. He didn’t seem intent on talking, anyway; his attention was trained forward, head on a swivel when he opened the chamber doors and ushered you into the halls.

It was strange, to be this close in public, to feel his solid, strong body like a barricade along your own, to feel his warmth against you, heating your bones free of fear. And despite the electricity in the air, he did not urge you in haste, but sought the rhythm of your heels on the hardwood. It was if he was wanting your guidance. As if you were leading him to the exit. 

But that couldn’t be right, you thought--not this man, not Kylo Ren, the one who had spent the past two nights detailing his desire to possess you in perpetuity. Then again, there was also the man in the chambers just minutes ago: this man, this Kylo Ren, the one who had held your hand, allowed you to shield your dignity.

Your tongue was stone in your mouth. For once, you were grateful for it. Especially when you turned the corner and saw Finn, dressed in a Commander’s suit, walking down the hall.

Thoughts like a blaze--there would be little time to explain to anyone your position, let alone a member of the Resistance, but you knew three things: Finn was in front of you. You had the switchblade. And no matter what your Commander’s hand at your back looked like to you or anyone else, there was no happy ending the two of you could ever have.

Pulse pounding, you caught Finn’s eyes, widened your own, an unseen signal to Kylo Ren while he held you close. Finn held your gaze for a split-second, questioning, confirming--you coughed, giving the slightest nod, and broke away. Without a word or acknowledgement, he passed you, face aimed ahead, and you marched forth, the firm reminder of your enslavement at your spine. The distance grew in seconds, the click of his shoes ricocheting in the silence, a meeting time and place decided even in its presence. Sweat tickled the back of your neck, and with every new step, you released another portion of trapped breath.

The sun screamed into your sight when you walked outside--you expected Kylo to abandon you there, but he maintained his position, fingers inching toward your waist to stabilize you as you walked down the stairs. Despite the undeniable and regrettable comfort of his presence, the skipping of your heart hadn’t slowed, the dry scrape of your mouth unrelieved. 

If what you’d just done worked out, the Resistance would meet you at Kylo’s home in the night, and you’d give them everything that you had.

You and Kylo reached the Audi in the parking lot, tucked under the shade of a tree. He left you in the approach, as you expected, but what you hadn’t expected was for him to pop open the passenger door. Confused, you almost paused, met his gaze--crystal amber shimmering in the hot summer air, memorizing like you’d evaporate if you baked too long. More sweat--you weren’t sure of its origin, this time--and you scurried into the car, seated by the time Kylo eased the door closed.

He stood there, for a moment, meandering around the front of the vehicle with long strides--and like a whip, he snapped, whirled and slammed his fist into the hood of his car, denting the steel. You yelped, clapping your hands over your mouth, watching as he remained there for one, two seconds before jerking back his arm. Kylo wagged off the burn, crossing to the driver’s door, throwing it open and tumbling inside.

Gulping, you observed him, quivering chin, red knuckles, tight jaw. He was wound, taut like copper wire coiled over lightning. A shaky break leaked from his nose, and he wrapped his hand around the steering wheel, his eyes drifting to yours. You stared at each other, everything unsaid, words worthless in this reality where the both of you had lived too long in your bonds to erase their scars. 

For some reason, you wanted to apologize. But then Kylo turned away, pushed the key into the ignition, and cranked the engine.

[anonthenullifier]

An Awakening

Vision learns the truth of his life prior to Westview which leads to an honest conversation with Wanda.

Ao3 link

There is nothingness and then there is a calliope, it’s jaunty little ditty shocking his mind enough that Vision’s eyes snap open. Blades of grass tickle his cheek and an aura of flashing lights draws him up, palms pressed firmly onto the ground as he hoists himself up into a seated position. His body aches, a faint echo in his mind of being violently torn apart, but it is a feeling that fades the faster he thinks about it. Since it seems important, he tries to move his mind away, hoping that if he doesn’t explicitly focus on it that it will not be forgotten.

Vision nods, goes to stand up, but finds his legs not responding fully, knees buckling under the weight of a fleeting memory of immense pain. A hand loops under his right bicep, the woman’s other hand coming to rest on his back as she helps him up with an aggrieved, “Why can men never admit when they’re hurt?” The snark behind the comment feels forced, the same underlying terror on her face as all the other residents here.

That’s when he remembers, most of it at least. He was on his own reconnaissance patrol, inching ever more methodically toward the edge of town to see how far Wanda’s influence reached. The horror of his findings, their frozen, crying faces, almost knocks him back to the ground, but luckily the woman’s hands are still there to steady him. “Thank you.”

“Did you go in the funhouse?” It’s not really a question the way her voice falls, more of a statement with a rhetorical uptick at the end. “Heard it’s really disorienting with all the clowns.”

Vision doesn’t recall such an attraction anywhere in Westview but then he looks up, following the still present music in the air, and finds an entire carnival before him. Red and white striped tents tower out of the ground, stalls for food send plumes of greasy smoke into the air, and numerous game stalls are lined up where stuffed animals and blowup hammers hang joyfully from the walls. This is new. What is also new is that there are houses and roads beyond Ellis Avenue, which seems right, as if it was always like that, but there is a niggle of unease that tells him this isn’t true, if only he could access the information that makes him feel that way.

“Oh, um , thank you.” His costume is, at least by his understanding of how Billy and Tommy reacted, not sick by any means. Regardless, he finds his hand moving on its own accord to grip the cape, wanting to feel the object of her jealousy. It feels different, slicker and more aerodynamic than the one Wanda left in the closet. He yanks it a bit farther forward and notes that it is also a much more subdued gold with flecks of crimson in parts. A glance down also confirms that his green and yellow ensemble is gone, replaced by teals and reds, no athletic shorts covering the skin tight ensemble.

This is all wrong.

Vision knows the town never had a circus, nor the rows of houses beyond Ellis, he knows that he was not in this outfit and that everything feels just a bit off.

“Do you want some coffee or a ride back home?” The concern in her voice goes deeper than one would expect, even though she did find him injured on the ground, something more wavers in her words. Vision decides that he needs more answers than questions and, even though he hates taking away people’s autonomy, he reaches towards her temple. “Woah,” the woman swats his hands away, “I have pepper spray.”

“I will not harm you.” Oddly her face softens and she drops the threat, allowing him to send a pulse of golden energy into her head.

The change is instantaneous, the woman’s face becoming far more animated, “Vision?! Oh my God, you’re okay!” This is now the second awakened person to recognize him, to be excited at the prospect that he is there to help. “Oh what the hell!” Vision watches the woman’s hand run along her gaudy canary and ruby diner uniform, one that is common in little run down diners on the highway, a thought that he doesn’t quite know how to substantiate since he doesn’t seem to have a memory of such a stop and yet the knowledge is there. As she inspects her clothes, grunting in disbelief and irritation built into every movement, she confuses him further, “I’m an astrophysicist and this is what I get? So disrespectful.”

Neither Norm nor Agnes responded in such a...laid back way to be awakened, both in immeasurable pain that this woman seems to show no signs of. “Miss, are you okay?”

“Doctor, not Miss.”

“My apologies.”

She turns a bright, closed lip smile towards him, reaching out her hand as she says, “I’m Darcy.”

He takes the proffered hand and gives it a polite shake. Even though it is clearly unnecessary he adds, “And I’m Vision.” What he says next is a bit of a surprise to him, mainly because he doesn’t feel like he has a basis for the assumption that she will know the answer, but for some reason he has full faith she can help him, that she wants to help him. “Who am I? What,” he surveys the carnival around him, “what is happening here?”

“Straight to the big questions.” It is not derisively or caustically stated, in fact there is far more affection than one would expect from a stranger. Darcy glances around, nervous for the first time, “I’ll try to be quick, I’m sure your wife’ll be here soon.” This fear is not new, sadly, the same insinuation made by Norm about Wanda’s involvement. “Let’s see, you’re Vision, obviously,” a small, self conscious chuckle goes along with the statement. “You’re an Avenger,” luckily, she senses his desire for more, quickly adding, “group of super powered people, well, not all of them have super powers, some just have really amazing tech, but anyway you’re a team that fights bad guys and saves the universe.”

“Wanda and myself, we were-“

“Yep, joined at the same time and then fell in love, really cute.”

This confirms what Agnes said, which suggests that perhaps her other words were true as well. “Am I...dead?” All joy leeches from Darcy’s face, a deflated nod going along with the tightening of her lips. “How?”

Darcy looks around again and Vision can’t help but join her in the action, can’t help but feel a little bit nervous about who doesn’t want him to know this. “Shortened version - big purple angry grape named Thanos was collecting all the infinity stones, this includes the Mindstone,” Vision’s fingers rise up to brush the gem. “Wanda had to kill you to try and stop him.”

“She killed me?”

Quickly context is added, “Only because you,” she levels a finger at his chest to emphasize his role and take blame off his wife, “insisted she do it.”

None of what she says makes sense. “Why would I do that?”

The next statement is said in a way that typically is coupled with a playful fist against the shoulder that leads into a jovial shove. “Being all self-sacrificial’s kinda your thing. Which is super noble, don’t get me wrong, but a bit rough on the people around you, like asking them to kill you for the greater good.”

Which is a fair point and one he will need to cogitate on at a later time, “Why did Wanda, specifically, have to kill me?”

“Oh because she was the only one strong enough to destroy the Mindstone.”

A logical assessment that he can easily believe his former self to have made. “Was she successful?”

Darcy’s voice quiets somewhat, a slight tremble in her words, “She was. But then Thanos reversed time, brought you back, and murdered you right in front of her.”

Suddenly his worldview shifts, new meaning and understanding emerging as to some of Wanda’s actions and her strong reaction to his accusations the other night. Despite this dawning of understanding, there is still a major question he feels hasn’t been answered. “But then how are we here? How am I,” he falters on the next word, as early as this evening not thinking it was something that could be false, “alive?”

“That’s the million dollar question. No one knows.” A high pitched whizzing vibrates in the air, punctuated by calls of Vision! “I gotta go,” she begins to walk away, but turns back with an anger not yet present in her words, “Quick FYI, if you meet a guy named Hayward, don’t trust him, he’s a dick.”

“I um, will not, thank you.”

She starts to leave again and then stops, “Also, we don’t have proof it’s all Wanda. Food for thought.”

Vision appreciates the comment, “Thank you.” It is when she actually walks away that he is the one that has a realization of not re-invoking whatever trance the people of the town are in. ��Darcy!” She turns expectedly towards him as he approaches with his hands out and ready to take the pain from her, except she swats his hands away, yet again.

“Stop it, I’m a better ally awake.”

Based on the prior two people he has spoken to in their awakened state, this seems a poor choice for her. “Does it not hurt?”

“I mean, yeah, feels like I went on a tequila bender last night and haven’t had water in weeks.” How she remains so lighthearted is beyond him, but he admires it immensely, “but I can’t help you if I’ve forgotten.”

Though he isn’t sure it is in her best interest to remain in such a state, the idea of a confidant is appealing. “Very well.”

Seconds after she walks away, blue streaks materialize around Vision, both his sons and his wife appearing suddenly in front of him. This is unusual but he doesn’t get a chance to inquire about their speedy entrance, Billy rushing towards him first with a relieved, “Dad!” Vision catches him, using the momentum of his son’s leap to lift him and hold him close, Billy’s arm wrapping protectively around Vision’s neck. Tommy follows shortly after, his run far more powerful as he slams into Vision’s torso with a tight hug.

It is Wanda who hesitates, her eyes faintly glowing red, a deep, concerned frown on her lips. “Vizh,” her voice cracks and his heart breaks at the pain she tries so valiantly to mask. Vision manages to get one of his hands free enough to motion Wanda closer. She accepts the offer, one arm winding around his waist and the other laying on Tommy’s shoulders.

They have only been home for three hours and yet this is the tenth Wanda has found herself standing in the doorway, hand propped along the wooden frame. In the room Vision lies in bed, eyes closed and resting, Billy is wrapped around him, his arm thrown across his father’s chest and head buried just under the vibranium dot of Vision’s chin, and Tommy is curled snuggly into Vision’s other side. The boys are still in their costumes, Billy’s cape sprawled behind him on their mattress and Tommy’s now flat hair looking a bit crusty from the spray dye. It’s an idyllic scene and yet Wanda fights back tears, shoving the drops away from her eyes as if they are an enemy that needs to be thwarted.

She almost lost Vision...again. The boys almost lost their father at ten years old, an age for which grief is overwhelming and confusing, can shape a life forever, or so she intimately knows.

Reluctantly her body pulls away from the door, arms crossing over her chest as she walks back downstairs, not once considering peeking in on her brother in the guest room. That is a problem she is still trying to figure out, the man a stranger, an antagonist, but with her brother’s name. There are too many inconsistencies in his behavior, too many contradictions in his words, half of them true to her brother and the other far too knowing of events that occurred after his death. Unsurprisingly he and Vision clash, a thought that briefly makes her mouth perk up, always having a belief that if her brother lived he would have begrudgingly accepted her relationship while also making it his personal duty to make jabs at Vision, who Wanda always knew would take it with a silent dignity that was then removed late at night when he’d insist on lengthy conversations with her to figure out the insults. That’s what life was supposed to be. What life is now, technically.

The gurgle of water washes away these thoughts, her focus now solely on filling the kettle and getting it on a burner to boil. Except the distraction is short lived as she sits down at the kitchen table to wait, fingers interwoven and glowing faintly of the residual scarlet energy she had to use tonight. Wanda fixates on her fingers, bending and straightening them, unsure how she knew what to do or even had the power to expand the town. But that’s not the most troubling incident of the night. No, what pesters at her resolve is a simple thought: Why did Vision want to leave? They have everything here - a house, Billy and Tommy, each other, and the time they always tried so hard to find.

Wanda startles at the creak of the kitchen cabinet, heart still racing as she takes in the curve of Vision’s shoulders and the vibranium band along the back of his head. Silently he makes her a cup of tea, hands moving calmly through the ritual he created, the cup always the same distance from the kettle, bag placed at the bottom with the string hanging out precisely two inches, both hands holding the kettle (one on the handle and one at the base) as a perfect arc of water fills the cup, and finally one and a third spoonfuls of sugar. The sequence completed, Vision walks the cup to the table, placing it gently down with barely a clink from the porcelain. She expects him to sit down across from her, to silently stare for a minute or so before bringing up the town again, reopening the wounds of their last fight because they never actually resolved anything other than to try and act normal around the boys. But he doesn’t, instead he takes her hand, tugging it until she stands, and then he hugs her, engulfing her entire being in his presence. The firmness of his chest and the tinny waft of vibranium are just as soothing as the kisses he peppers along the top of her head, each one more doting than the last. “Vizh,” Wanda reluctantly pulls back a few inches, hand squeezing between their bodies until she can cup his face, “are you…”

“I know,” he kisses her properly now, not like the emotionless peck earlier in the day, this one imbued with all of his love and all of his concern. “I know enough.”

A chill moves through her body, limbs growing rigid and heart almost coming to a complete stop. “What do you mean?”

Vision’s fingers move up to trace lines through her hair, palm coming to rest on her cheek. The surety of his prior statement lessens, mouth sinking lower until it’s a shallow frown. “I know that I am,” it is unlike him to pause like this, to seem to want to avoid a conversation he himself brought up, “that I was dead.”

Her denial is immediate and viscera, “What are you talking about, why would you…” but then his doleful gaze meets hers, the ridges of his synthetic skin bunched together in a show of deep, aching pain, though it is clear from the way he holds her, the way he places a far too gentle kiss to her forehead, as if the action itself might knock her over, that he is more concerned for her than himself, which is the epitome of who he was...who he is. If there is anything she can offer that matches this unerring compassion, it has to be honesty because clearly hiding the truth from him will not stop his incessant march towards the truth. But that is easier to think about than it is to actually commit to doing. Wanda swallows down a sob and fights to keep her voice calm. “You were.” The confirmation is too much, her chest heaving as all the memories rush to the forefront of her mind--her hands erupting in red at the feel of the Mindstone fracturing, at the almost silent I love you , and then having to watch him come back only to die in a far more brutal way.

Strong arms that shouldn’t exist continue to encase her, draw her deeper into the comfort of his embrace, the feel of his fingers running through her hair with the same gentle “Wanda” he always said when soothing her. Deep down she knows it is all a lie, this life, this man, this blissful existence. Because as a Maximoff there is only one constant in life and it is sorrow, biting, empty, unavoidable sorrow. Which begs the question of how, exactly he found out. A question that infuriates her and invokes the well know feeling of being caged in by the inevitability of her life.

Wanda steps out of his arms, trying her best not to show how much pain that simple movement creates, her body screaming to remain against his forever, but selfishly she needs answers more than anything, needs information to help her regain some level of control over her emotions, has to know why he put his family through so much just to find out this awful truth. “Why aren’t you happy here?”

A denial forms quickly, his body taut at the accusation, “I am happy Wanda, how could I not be?”

“Because you left, you...you abandoned us today,” Wanda knows she shouldn’t use the next part in anger or for gain, but she needs her husband to understand the severity of it all. “Did you know Billy can sense you?”

Vision’s “He can?” is hard to read, both concerned and in awe, with something else she can’t quite pinpoint.

“Yes, and his first experience of that was feeling you try to die because we apparently aren’t important enough to stay alive for.” The comment hits as intended, Vision stepping back, horror forming in the spasming muscles of his face as he looks up towards the ceiling, towards where he left their sons. “What are you trying to find out there?”

Vision’s simple, “The truth,” is aggravatingly vague, thankfully, or not depending on how this goes, he clarifies, “There is something wrong in Westview, Wanda. The people are in agony.”

A fed up laugh comes out with her “Aren’t we all?” Only Vision can’t find the humor, the gears in his eyes twisting clockwise and counterclockwise while he stares at her, face ladened with a suffocating sympathy.

He takes a step towards her and she steps back, not missing the way her reaction hurts him. “Wanda, it is not like you to inflict pain on innocent people.”

Since they started this new life, her memories have been hazy, coming in and out of consciousness, enough clarity to understand that whatever is happening in Westview is preferable to outside of it. After tonight, after Pietro’s comment about her dead husband, it’s all there and she realizes that she’s never gotten to say out loud what she did, what Thanos forced her to do, the Avengers too scattered with all that needed to be attended to after his defeat to focus on anyone but themselves. So she squares her shoulders, lifts her head and puts all of her self loathing into her next comment, “If that’s true, then why did I kill you?”

This time when Vision steps towards her she lets him grip her arms, let’s him guide her until her face is pressed into his chest, allowing her to hear the beating of his synthetic heart. “You were only doing what I had asked.”

“Well it wasn’t worth it,” her voice is muffled by the teal sweater he’s wearing, “and I can’t, I can’t forgive myself.”

His arms tighten around her, one hand gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt and the other holding her head to his sternum. “You did nothing wrong. If anyone is to blame-”

It doesn't take a telepath to know what empty words he is about to mutter. Wanda forces herself from his embrace and stares hard into his eyes, “Don’t, Vision, just don’t. It won’t change what happened.”

Reluctantly he accepts it, moving cautiously back to the original topic of their discord, “Is this,” he gestures vaguely around them, “the result of,” it is still hard for him to say, which she appreciates because she can’t say it easily either, “my death?”

“I don’t know,,” this time he seems to accept her ignorance, which allows her a chance to actually consider it more. All she can really recall is the crushing loneliness and the suffocating despair of losing the last person she loved in the world. It’s not a stretch to assume that had something to do with now. “Maybe?” If he knows about his death, she reasons that she might as well tell him the other nightmare she discovered upon her own rebirth, something she’s tried to block out as best she can. “It could also be from finding out some shady government organization was experimenting on your corpse.”

Shock is too gentle a word, hatred a tiny bit too strong for the tone of his voice, “That does not seem like an activity I would condone.”

“It’s the exact opposite of what you requested.” Wanda thinks back to that day, and unlike Vision, pure, unabashed hatred flowed through her veins when she received an anonymous tip. Hatred at S.W.O.R.D, at the scientists going against Vision’s will, hatred at the world for being so awful, and hatred at her teammates who let it happen, who didn’t seem to consider that agencies like that lie, that they would never want the body only for “safe-keeping.” All Vision wanted was a burial and she was determined to provide him that, to allow herself the closure she needed. So she broke in, sickened at the way they’d disassembled him and had separate monitors attached to his limbs and head. “I broke in,” Vision holds his breath as she talks, “I took you from them and all I remember is flying away. I was going to bury you in the forest, like you wanted.” That’s where her memory stops and where Westview begins. “And then we were driving to our house after getting married.” Finally he releases his breath with a shuddering gasp. “That’s all I remember, you have to believe me that I have no idea what’s going on.” Unlike the other night, he wordlessly accepts her ignorance, mind likely still reeling from the revelations she shared. It is this lack of judgment that emboldens her to say what’s been swirling through her mind whenever the knowledge of reality sets in, a thought that should carry with it guilt but she can’t muster up guilt when she finally has what she has been denied over and over again. “But I’d be lying if I tried to convince you that I don’t prefer what we have in Westview.”

With a hand on her back, he leads her to the table, pulling out the chair in front of the barely steaming tea, and then he sits directly next to her, tenderly taking her left hand in his own, thumb rubbing absentmindedly along her wedding ring. “I cannot fault you in any way for that feeling. If not for being complicit in the pain of so many, I would wholly embrace this life we have now.”

His tacit disapproval is only slightly less painful than his yelling, but she has to begrudgingly accept that he may not be completely wrong. Whatever pain he has sensed in others was enough to make him tear through the barrier and risk losing his own family. “But what if,” still she fights against figuring it out, unsure she can handle what it might lead to, “what if fixing this means I lose you again,” which is already incomprehensible, but is made even more harrowing by the next possibility, “what if it means losing Billy and Tommy too?”

Tears lick at the corners of his eyes, a war waging on his lips of how to proceed. “It will be horrifying and it will be immensely difficult but you,” he grabs her other hand, his fingers forming a vice around her own and she isn’t sure if he is trying to convince her or himself more, “are so remarkably resilient.”

Sometimes she wishes his density manipulation applied beyond just his body. “Clearly not, Vizh. Look around us.”

Vision doesn’t, instead he looks down at their enjoined hands, a shaky breath recentering his thoughts. “I think we may be, as they say, putting the cart before the horse.” The verbal shift is so utterly ridiculous that she chuckles, an action that causes him to smile nervously. “Did I use it wrong?”

“No, it just, you always say it so academically.”

“I see.” Finally real, genuine amusement flits across his face. “Well, regardless, we don’t know what is happening, unless there is something you aren’t telling me.” It is not an accusation in the slightest, in fact it is said as an aside, almost hopeful that she’s waiting to surprise him with the solution.

There is a lot she hasn’t said, but none of it seems vital other than perhaps one observation. “I definitely have control here,” this itself is painful to admit. Where he is merely complicit if he remains here, she is actively continuing it, “but, I don’t, I don’t know how to explain it, but I don’t know how I’m doing this.” Vision takes in the admission, brow furrowing as he no doubts files it away in his future mysteries to solve mental folder. “Like tonight,” she thinks back to when Billy told her about the soldiers, to the moment she realized what Vision had done, “All I knew is that I needed to save you because I couldn’t lose you again. I didn’t have any idea of how or what to do, but I felt like if I just put all of my powers into it, that something would happen.”

It’s amazing how easily he transitions into his cool and clinical investigator voice, “Is this the first time you’ve felt that?”

“No. I mean sometimes I have an idea of what I’d like,” such as when she saw the beekeeper come out of the sewer and then vanquished it, “but other times I just have a hope it will be fixed.”

“That is a start.”

Wanda waits for more and when it doesn’t arrive,she pushes for it, “What does that mean?”

He releases her hands and pats his legs, an odd energy reinvigorating in him. “We must figure out the source of these alterations. Clearly it is not just you.” A fact she can’t say for certain but doesn’t have the heart to correct him on, enjoying how it feels like they’re a team again instead of bitter foes. “I met someone tonight who has knowledge of our prior lives.”

This is unexpected and terrifying. Perhaps the only good thing is that she knows it is not Pietro, because she is not willing to trust him, but to be fair, she isn’t sure she can trust whomever Vision found. “Who is it?”

“Her name is Darcy, she says she is an astrophysicist and has a seemingly strong grasp on what happens outside of Westview.”

Vision is not a very strong judge of character all the time, quick to trust and slow to lose hope in a person, as evidenced by his continued trust in her, yet she asks him anyway. “Are you sure we can trust her?”

“I believe so.”

“Okay.” For now she lets him hold on to that belief, knowing that she will be able to assess this person when they meet. Which also means she knows, deep down, that if this person ends up like Monica, one of S.W.O.R.D.'s cronies, that she’ll be forced to take control again.

The sincerity of his “Thank you,” and the tenderness with which he grabs her hand again, bringing it to his lips with a bit too much romantic melodrama, brings about a fluttering warmth in her chest she has so dearly missed, one that chases away all the disparaging thoughts of what is to come, “truly, for your honesty.” Wanda simply smiles in return, not entirely certain her honesty is worth much at the moment.

It is a relief when Vision maneuvers the conversation to a happier topic. “You said Billy could sense me tonight?”

Pride spreads her lips into a toothy grin, “He’s a natural telepath.”

Vision shares her feelings, sitting back with a satisfied smirk. “We shall have to see if he has your telekinesis as well.”

“We will. Also, Tommy has superspeed.”

Vision’s paternal delight perks up his entire body. “Remarkable.”

“They’re pretty impressive.” Wanda finally picks up the tea and takes a sip, not caring it no longer holds any warmth, far too enamored and distracted by Vision launching into a suggestion of a training regime for their sons, the Maximoff family seeming to be front and center in his mind. If there is any kindness in the world, they deserve at least one night to care about themselves and no one else.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 15

(Masterpost)(Other Canary Content)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

This rewatch is going to fit into a single post, because a third of the episode is just crying and yelling on a very slow boat. If you want to learn the Chinese words for “Mother” and “Father” this is your episode. 

Captain Blowhard

Clan Leader Yao shows up, having barely survived the massacre of his clan, along with two disciples who aren't too excited about their unwilling promotion to top targets. Jiang Cheng tells his dad that the Wens are systematically exterminating the smaller clans, and have said anyone who helps the survivors is going to be punished. 

Jiang Fengmian tells Yao that the Jiang Clan will protect him. Which is why Wei Wuxian is responsible for the massacre of the Jiang Clan. 

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian both think that taking Yao to the Jin clan is the best way to keep him safe. Wei Wuxian was wrong to help the heirs of the powerfullest richest clans, but sure, let's save this asshole.

Road Tripping

The boys go down to the dock to send Jiang Yanli and Jiang Fengmian off, saying a formal goodbye with a bunch of disciples and showing off how extremely good they look in these close-fitted, simply cut robes with cool belts.

Yu Ziyuan comes down to say goodbye to Yanli and give her some medicine, covering by saying it's for Jiang Fengmian, because being sick is bad for marriage prospects, probably. 

Later the boys will mention their hope that YZY will be mollified by the time JFM returns, which means this possibly isn't the usual state of their relationship. The dislike and jealousy seem to be constant, but perhaps being openly at war with each other is not.

(more after the cut!)

Club Ruohan

At Club Ruohan, Wen Ruohan is tired of sitting on his big uncomfortable throne so he's sitting on the floor next to it, instead. He's suffering the embarrassing problem of black smoke leakage, and needs Wen Qing to give him acupuncture to fix it, but she's not around. Wen Ruohan has an awful lot of trouble containing resentful energy, possibly because he is controlling a bunch of zombies 24x7 instead of letting them take a break. Wei Wuxian is mostly able to control it--except when he, you know, totally isn't--without ever needing an attractive acupuncturist to give him a poke.

WRH learns from Wen Chao that Wei Wuxian 1. killed a boss-level monster on nightmare level difficulty without his sword 2. took whatever thing had been suppressing the nightmare monster for the previous really long time.  WRH wants whatever it is.

Boys in Charge

When the boys get back to Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng doesn't understand why they couldn't all go to the Lins together, and Wei Wuxian explains it to him. Wei Wuxian is the one seeing the big picture, and he wants to plan how to handle the Wen forces when they, inevitably, arrive. 

Jiang Cheng would rather talk big than actually plan, showing how--at this age--his anger management problem is an issue on a strategic level, not just a personal one.  As a clan leader he will eventually master this aspect, for the most part, and learn to keep a cool head in regard to martial matters, while continuing to feed his interpersonal rage problem.

The brothers supervise the archery practice of the Jiang disciples, having their last nice time together, and still without a plan. Wei Wuxian is bored and calls practice early so he can go be bored on the porch or in his room, since he isn't allowed out. In fact he's so bored by lockdown that he starts an irreverent niche blog.  

(he’s kidding! keep your mask on, don’t go to wine houses)

Knowing that the Wen Clan is gunning for enemy cultivators, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng send the whole group of disciples, including children, outside the compound walls to retrieve their kites. This is what happens when you don't have a plan.

Wen the Levee Breaks

Wen Chao’s girlfriend Wang Lingjiao finds a kite with a hole in it and uses it as a pretext to snatch up the youngest disciple. 

The other disciples come running back and tell WWX and JC what happened. Wei Wuxian calmly gets all of the information from them and starts figuring out what to do, while Jiang Cheng freaks out. 

Jiang Cheng is a good fighter, and matures into an excellent one after a core upgrade and war experience. But Wei Wuxian is a born battle leader, developing strategies on the fly and staying cool under pressure.

Madame Yu is as brave as a barrel full of bears and Yinzhu and Jinzhu chase lions down the stairs

Yu Ziyuan and the murder twins show up and all of the disciples line up behind them, relieved to have someone scary in charge.. Yu Ziyuan is also a natural leader and an awesome fighter, but her judgement is terrible, as we're about to discover. 

Bitchfest

Wang Lingjiao strolls in to the main hall and has the nerve to comment on the interior decorating, because it doesn't have enough rough-hewn black rock and lava pits, apparently.

She shows them all the kite and says that because it looks (kind of) like the sun, using it for target practice is an attack on the Wen Clan. Bitch, everything your clan wears and uses has fire on it and is red. The sun is not your emblem, no matter what the text says. This kite situation is presumably where the anti-Wen campaign gets its name of "Sunshot," however, which sounds pretty cool.

Wang Lingjiao moves along to her main point, which is that Wei Wuxian needs his ass kicked, and she'd like Yu Ziyuan to do the kicking. To goad her, she starts talking about the rumors about Wei Wuxian's parentage.

Let it Whip

So let it whip (let's whip it, baby) Get a grip (let's whip it baby) Well, what's your trip? (Oh no)

Yu Ziyuan takes the bait, and proceeds to whip the shit out of her strongest battle asset, in a sequence that's either horrifying or completely fucking awesome, depending on how you feel about whump.

There are a lot of bad effects in this show and a lot of questionable fighting, but any time Zidian flies, I am HERE for it. I gave this beatdown its own gifset over here.

Jiang Cheng is devastated and tries again and again to protect Wei Wuxian, but his mother and her lieutenants keep moving him out of the way so the beating can continue.

Yu Ziyuan hits Wei Wuxian at least 5 times, until he is totally unable to get up off the floor. Wang Lingjiao has succeeded in eliminating him as a threat for the moment.

Gotta Hand It To You

Wang Lingjiao isn't satisfied with the brutal whipping, however; she wants his right hand as a trophy, and for him to be unable to recover.  Yu Ziyuan tells Jinzhu and Yinzhu to close the doors because some blood is going to fly. 

I'd like to think this is when Yu Ziyuan decides to kill the Wens, rather than maiming WWX, but I'm not certain. Because she doesn't start attacking until after Wang Lingjiao says the Wens are taking Lotus Pier, and tells her to discipline Jiang Cheng. So maybe she is okay with taking WWX’s hand, but draws the line at giving up her house.

Through all of this, Wei Wuxian doesn't once protest, even when he thinks they're getting ready to take his hand off. He'll do whatever it takes to make peace. THIS is the core of his heroism; he will sacrifice anything to do what he thinks is right. He's not "playing the hero;" not doing this for fame or kudos, but for a clear conscience.

It’s a Murder Party

Wang Lingjiao explains the new Wen World order, and Yu Ziyuan smacks her to the floor and then takes out all 8 of the Wen soldiers in one elegant move. 

Can we talk about how incredibly effective a fighter Yu Ziyuan is, without a sword? With her first-class spiritual tool as her only weapon? Nobody is telling her she needs to carry a sword. She shows she can use one, after she gives Zidian to Jiang Cheng, but she's absolutely devastating without one.

Having defied Wang Lingjiao, Yu Ziyuan...doesn't kill her. She chokes her, slaps her and yells at her. Then she insults her clan and sticks her FOOT on her FACE.

She sics the murder twins on the guards in the room, and they shank all of them at super speed while the boys watch with alarm. 

Then she has them sloooowly advance on Wang Lingjiao, giving her plenty of time to holler for Wen Zhuliu before they can kill her.

Het Heat

Wen Zhuliu comes flying in, literally, kicking both murder twins across the room at the same time. This is followed by Core-Melting Hand x Violet Spider suddenly becoming the most shippable M/F couple in this thing, because wow, they have some serious chemistry.

I never saw a pretty girl look so tough

Actor Feng Mingjing continues to do an awful lot with almost no lines, in his portrayal of Wen Zhuliu. WZL politely apologizes to Yu Ziyuan. Is he offering to withdraw, or is he just being polite before getting down to the killy bit? Either way, Yu Ziyuan is ready to rumble, and doesn't even consider de-escalating.

You know who was able to rein in his temper, after fighting with this same extremely dangerous dude, and therefore lived to fight another day? Fucking Nie Mingjue, that's who, who has a generational CURSE making him angry. While Yu Ziyuan, is like, "fuck the safety of my clan, this is Wei Wuxian's fault anyway" and throws down.

Wen Zhuliu and Yu Ziyuan proceed to have an epic, sexy fight, where he catches her whip and she dodges his attempt to feel up her core.

He's a magic man, mama, he's got the magic hands.

Wei Wuxian, still incapacitated, tells Jiang Cheng to stop Wang Lingjiao from calling for help, but JC gets distracted by the threat to his mom, and goes to engage with Wen Zhuliu.

Jiang Cheng takes a horrifying smack in the chest, which injures him and takes him out, while Wang Lingjiao sends the signal that seals the fate of Lotus Pier.

It’s All Over Except for the Crying

Yu Ziyuan immediately sees that she's lost the battle, and has the murder twins divert Wen Zhuliu while she brings the two boys to the pier. 

She verifies that Jiang Cheng's core is still intact, showing the viewers, for future reference, that it's possible to tell by touch if someone's core is missing, although a casual touch won't do it.  

Then she re-codes the Zidian so that it recognizes Jiang Cheng and puts it on his wrist. She follows this with a display of maternal affection for Jiang Cheng unlike anything we've seen so far, which super fails to reassure him.  

She follows this up with screaming at Wei Wuxian and telling him how much she hates him, and blaming him for the multiple shitty choices she just made..  

With a heart full of rage, she reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

She binds the boys with Zidian and then sends the boat on its way....

...with a frickin' TALISMAN, holeee shit. As toxic as she is for Wei Wuxian, there is a direct line from her cultivation skills to his.  

Dad To The  Rescue...sort of

The last third of the episode is basically yelling and crying punctuated by a couple of interactions out on the water. The extreme emotions go on for long enough that I eventually stop feeling bad for the characters and start feeling bad for the actors, who had to maintain this level of feeling for probably days of shooting.

The boys eventually meet up with Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Yanli. JFM discovers that Zidian responds to his control, which tells him something is very, very wrong, since it probably knows how his wife feels about him.

This thing isn’t biting me; your mom is in serious trouble. 

Here Jiang Fengmian decides to do the heroic, totally futile thing, which is exactly his style. He tosses Jiang Yanli in with the boys and takes his leave so he can go die with his wife while the children survive.  

He has to know that Yu Ziyuan is the stronger fighter of the two of them, and that he's not going back to rescue her. He's just going to stand with her and die together, which is the most romantic thing you can do in a C-drama, after all.  

How Much Do You Owe the Jiang Clan?

Jiang Fengmian tells his two children not to cry, making them and the viewer cry extra hard. (specially ouchy gifset here).

Then he turns to Wei Wuxian and, with a heart full of tenderness, reminds him that his worth lies in what he can do for more important people.

Next episode: Is going to be even more horrible! 

Soundtrack: 1. When The Levee Breaks, Led Zeppelin 2. The Tale of Custard the Dragon (poem) by Ogden Nash 3. Let it Whip by the Dazz Band 4. U Got the Look by Prince & Sheena Easton 5. Magic Man by Heart

[cartoonfangirl1218]

5 times Leonard was surprisingly affectionate

1 They had been loitering at the New York Zoo and Sara was just uncharacteristically frigidity. She kept inching towards the bird section that was chaotic with sounds of macaw squawks, dove coos and the never ending screech of some tropical bird that Leonard hated. The noise was driving him nuts.

Stein had advised that it would be a great place for a 3rd date as that if they had an awkward pause, there was an automatic conversation starter if a lion ever got loose. Right now he wished a lion would go on a rampage right now and kill those stupid birds.

Sara really seemed to enjoy the trip so far, he didn't get the big deal it was just a bunch of animals in caging staring back at you. Or just sleeping.

Sara just smiled and dragged him to the bird aisle. Leonard couldn't help but give a small smirk. He really liked her smile, it was bright and casual. Yeah, that's it, casual. Not too big or that blinding smile that made him feel warm all over.

Just casual.

He was with someone he trusted. Not a daily feeling in Leonard Snart's life. He hadn't felt safe since he killed his father with the cold gun those many months ago. Or was it a year?

But with Sara it was different kind of safety. An emotional one. That she understood what it was like to be one of the bad guys. The feeling that no matter what you did, you couldn't be redeemed. The vulnerableness of being with all those "heroes," the disbelief that you could ever become that good.

She went through it to. She got through it and somehow it made him feel hopeful that he could too.

Sara raced past the tropical birds and scanned the name cards. Then a beep sounded. From Rip.

"Savage, 1997." was his message.

"Oh,” Sara sighed, shook her head and strode confidentially out of the zoo.

At the Waverider, the team was leaving the base after Rip informed them that getting Savage before the Team had formed might be their only chance at saving Carter and maybe getting another muscle. Sara was leaving to her room to get a katana, when Leonard stopped at her door.

"I got this before we left." He handed her a wooden canary that started to play a simple tune.

"How did you?" Sara gently took the canary, a giddy smile unconsciously spreading over her face. "I have my ways."

2 She had been shot by Nyssa and was lying on the hospital bed getting stitched up. She stated that she didn't mind the pain, it was numb to her, she had worse things. But Leonard could tell she was in pain.

Just not the physical kind.

Leonard was aware of her past with Nyssa and he could just imagine the hurt of her former lover shooting her in the shoulder.

To be fair, Nyssa didn't know who Sara was. She was just raised as Ra's daughter, to kill. Sara had been standing between her and Chronos. He also knew Sara was berating herself for getting shot, for being weak.

"Sara, you can't blame yourself." "Yes, I can!" Sara protested "I knew she didn't know me, and I kept telling her what a good person she was. It was just stupid. I'm so stupid. Ugh!”

"No you're not. You're badass but not stupid."

"This is not the time." Sara glared.

"Fine but I'm taking your night watch" - Night watch was when two team members stayed at the base to study any activity from Savage then shifted to another two later in the earlier morning. Today was her turn to watch with Stein and Leonard was suppose to take the later one with Ray.

"Leonard, I'm shot not disabled, I'll do it." Sara insisted. "No, you won't." "Yes I will." "No, Sara." He leaned close to her, whispering in her ear, "It's okay to be hurt right now. Just sit and relax" Then walked away.

Sara remained in her bed like Leonard told her and in the morning she heard the toy canary by her bedside, singing and an exhausted Leonard was asleep in the chair next to her.

3 The third time was four months after they made it official. They were boyfriend and girlfriend and life couldn't be any easier, well love wise, the world was still in danger.

They were watching the Matrix on the couch and Sara had fell asleep at some point when the Matrix exploded.

Sara because of her assassin tendencies and the probability everyone tried to kill her in her sleep was a very light sleeper.

Sara hadn't been sleeping lately for various reasons, Nyssa being one of them. 2nd timeline Nyssa shooting her had been a recurring nightmare.

The sound of the Matrix exploding had been surprisingly calming, like how she wanted to kill someone and that just watching someone in pain made her feel better.

Sara had woken up to someone brushing her hair, she was about to stand up and ask what he was doing when she felt him lay his head on hers then he put her head on a pillow and walked away.

Sara shrugged and went back to sleep, probably some his brooding walks of thoughtfulness.

A few seconds, she heard him tiptoe back and put the blanket over her.

4 "Sara what were you doing?" Rip yelled.

Leonard cringed as Sara frowned. Sara had just killed a flight attendant that was preventing her from getting into Savage's private jet.

The killing had accomplished the goal to get into the jet, but Savage still escaped, Sara was covered in blood and the news reporters were more than eager to get the headline of Victor Scolia's attempted murder, assassin in jail.

Then the team having to go to jail to bust her out hadn't made Rip's twitch any better.

"My job to get Savage," Sara replied stiffly.

"By killing the guy. You could have just hit him on the head and be done with but now all of Cincinnati has your name on America's Most Wanted." Rip continued on with tirade on how she must use simpler means such as a small blow to the head to make people unconscious, not dead.

Leonard gave a small internal sigh himself. He knew how difficult it was for her. The spent many nights were Sara discussed her bloodlust and how she wanted more action. She needed to feel the blood over her hands, smooth and sticky and know that she was alive because she ended someone else.

Besides it was more practical, sealed the witness more quickly. But since his little deal with Scarlet he had resided these urges. Then again, he hadn't been resurrected from death in a Lazerus pit so this must be a different level of bloodlust.

Sara strode to her, poised as usual. But he noticed a slight dejected slump. She knew she screwed up It was best to leave her alone.

But the part of being a supportive boyfriend wouldn't let him.

Sara was sitting in her bed, staring at the wall.

"I had to kill him. For myself. Like a monster," Sara muttered, vaguely registering his presence.

Rather than doing another one of the talks that had been played over before, he sat next to her. Sara leaned against his chest and screamed in frustration. He slowly patted her shoulder.

5 She attempted to cook for him for their first anniversary. It was a simple meal, just some mashed potatoes and an omelet but it went wrong.

Really wrong.

She had burned both the egg and potatoes and left the bottoms scorched. She had tried to make it up by posting ice cubes to lessen the heat. Leonard felt a little fearful for his stomach but gave a shaky smile in return and put on his best poker face.

"Enjoy," Sara sat down with her own glass of water and played with her eggs.

Leonard noticed the way she looked at him worriedly. "She really wants me to like it.” Leonard thought and decided faking until he made it would be the best option. Just this once and it was for her.

He took a forceful of egg and shoved it in. It tasted awful. The grease and the smell of smoke filled his nose and mouth but Leonard valiantly continued and ate it all. Breaking a chair leg in the process of trying not to let his pain show.

The next morning Leonard was excused from work due to food poisoning that he blamed at the Taiwanese McDonalds.

Though Sara just knew it had to be her cooking. But he didn't say a word, he just smiled and ate those eggs.

And that was anniversary gift itself.

And the 1 Leonard had been in the shower in the men's room. Staring himself in the mirro r in disgust. He had ran into Lewis once more during their missions in the timeline and the scars across the front of his chest glared mockingly at him.

Of all those years of obeying the dead bastard.

Nothing big occurred between them, not wanting to mess up the timeline and such but seeing him again just brought back all those memories.

He pulled on his parka and strode into the HQ. He hit the table over and over with his fist, cursing.

Sara walked in, "What is it?" She asked soothingly.

"The bastard" he replied "The damn bastard that did this to me. The bastard that treated me like his flunkies for diamonds. Couldn't hold his damn liquor. The loser doesn't know anything. He took my childhood and put me in juvie he put a fucking bomb in my sister's head just so I worked with him because he couldn't do it himself! I have spent half my life in hell!"

"Hit me," Sara commanded, holding up the palm of her hands to hit. Leonard hit immediately, the impact only pushed her a few feet backwards.

”Harder." she insisted.

Leonard continued to hit her hands until her hands turned red and he was kneeling to his knees with effort.

Sara quietly lifted his head and hugged him. His cold body melted into the warmth of her arms

[isabellitah]

Hi! May I request a headcanon with the reader (number eight) and the siblings, where the reader is like super caring to all of them? Thank you! 💕

🤍 HARGREEVES x SIBLING

Title : babie hen

Pairing : none

Warning : a few cuss words and this is long ok

Request : Hi! May I request a headcanon with the reader (number eight) and the siblings, where the reader is like super caring to all of them? Thank you! 💕

Note : Hiii 🤍 i hope this is to your liking hehe

i made a wholeass scenario before i reread the request and noticed the word hEADCANON SO IM V SORRY THAT THIS WAS DELAYED I-

anyway-

Number Eight-

ah yes, the sweetest babie in the whole world, as mentioned by Klaus at some point in their lives

said babie is also their mother hen- well, aside from Allison that is

Luther Hargreeves

eightie always makes sure that Luther never overworks himself

and when he does, your always there for him

making sure he’s hydrated

feeding him lil snacks so that he isn’t starving

i bet you sliced off the crusts of the sandwich bc we all know Luther can be a big babie too hmph

and you’re just overall being there for him, supporting him like any sister would do for their older brother

but when he tries to over overwork himself, which is rare as it only happens when he’s anxious about something, you bet your ass you trapped him in a water sphere and nyoomed him to his room and onto his bed- basically forcing him to rest gorl he’s wet he has to shower before napping but ok-

now that that big babie is in his room, time to check on big babie number two-

Diego Hargreeves

Diego- the lil menace currently chasing Klaus with knives for who knows what reason

you weren’t even gonna ask

it’s nothing new

but anway-

you called them for snacks thus ending their “game of tag”

game of tag my ass-

more like pin the dagger on Klaus

while eating the sandwiches you made them, you noticed a lil bit of jam on the corner of Diego’s mouth

the moment Klaus ran off after eating his sandwich, and Diego stood up to follow him, you took a napkin, licked it a bit, and wiped the jam off of Diego’s face

lil murderous babie blushed and whined at you to stop

you kept wiping at his skin as though the jam was still there just to play with him

anyway, after you stopped, he quickly left to - maybe - go find Klaus

before he left though, he turned to you, wrapped his arms around you, mumbled a quick “thank you eightie” and ran off

keeping in mind where your three siblings are, you decided to go find Allison

Allison Hargreeves

surprisingly, you find both Allison panicking in her room

apparently Luther asked her out and she doesn’t know what to wear, how to style her hair, how to do her make-up, should she wear ma-

she was freaking out bc she never thought Luther would gather his wits and actually ask her out !!!

she wasn’t prepared ok

and u forced Luther to sleep i- reminder to wake him up later

maybe he tried to over overwork himself bc he’s nervous about their date oop

you immediately entered the room and shut the door behind you

first date, so it should be a good experience ok

keeping this in mind, you calmly told her to sit down on her bed and take sips of from the glass of water beside her bed

going through her closet and picking out a casual outfit was easy- Allison has great taste so it wasn’t a challenge at all

clothes and shoes done, and Allison is now calm

you gently lead her to her vanity and slowly started doing a half-up half-down hairdo

for her makeup, you went with a natural makeup- neutral eyeshadow, mascara, a bit of blush, and red lipstick

dress on, heels on, hair done, makeup done, sister immaculate

you were done

simple yet elegant- was how she looked

standing behind the seated woman known as your sister, you slightly teared up- you don’t know why exactly but you-

you felt like a proud mom aww

Allison hugged you and thank you profusely

“Don’t you dare ruin my masterpiece,” you threatened with a wink

you were rewarded with a giggle and a smile

dismissing yourself while she went ahead and took selfies,

you immediately went to go look for Luther i-

after waking him up, it wasn’t hard to stop his whining and convince him to start moving,

you just had to remind him of his date with Allison

and poof

mans was gone

nah not really- he just went to go change

anyway-

now that you think about it- how’s Klaus?

with that thought in mind, you went out of Luther’s room in search of your high brother

Klaus Hargreeves

you found him in the wine cellar

of course

“Klaus, what’re you doing here?”

“Eightie! Fancy seeing you here 🤍 how are you? I haven’t seen you since you fed me that sandwich- great sandwich by the way; the filling was mwah chef’s kiss,”

he said smiling while holding onto vodka 🤍

you internally rolled your eyes and grabbing his wrist, led him upstairs and into his room

you sat down on his bed with your back comfortably resting on his headrest

he just stood their looking resigned

he knew what was about to happen

you do this at least once a week

secretly he was happy though

these weekly talks always made him feel light by the end of the conversation

anyway, he laid down with his head onto your lap

the moment you started combing your hand through his hair, he spilled everything that bothered him

how his power still scared him- seeing the dead anywhere and everywhere

some trying to talk to him

some just creepily staring at him

and some- some trying to harm him

and that he sometimes felt useless or like a nobody in the family

how he felt like such a disappointment

you listened to everything - even to the ones he never said out loud - calmly and patiently

and when he was done, you slowly started refuting everything he said with various memories

his powers once helped you both help a lost soul find his way back home

he always tries to lighten the mood whenever the tension in the room gets high

he’s always there for all of you, offering his love, whenever and wherever

he sets back his problems in order to help you all solve your problems first

the more memories you recall, the better Klaus felt about himself

and that’s what mattered

Five, Ben, and Vanya Hargreeves

after staying to talk with Klaus for a bit longer, you excused yourself after he claimed to be taking a nap

walking around, you hear faint rustling from inside the study room

walking in, you see Five, Ben, and Vanya in various positions by the couch

Five was sitting on the floor, back pressed against couch

Ben was leaning against the arm of the couch with his legs on top of Vanya’s

and Vanya was sitting cross legged on the couch

all three were listening to Ben read a poem

a poem possibly written by him considering the book he was reading was journal

you were about to excuse yourself to give them their privacy when Ben called you over and invited you

looking at your other two siblings and receiving a nod, you thanked them and sat on the floor beside Five who then leaned his head onto the top of your head- yes, you were short

Ben continued reading the poem and you were right- it was poem

a poem that seemed to be about his feelings

you were saddened by how he felt when you were younger but hearing how he feels now boosted your mood- especially when you heard that your siblings were a big factor on why he felt happy and motivated nowadays

hearing a faint grumble beside you, you tapped Five’s thigh to get his head off you so that you can get up

after some grumbling and whining from the man-child, you got up and said you’ll be right back

you left after kissing their cheeks, earning a smile and a blush from Ben, a smile from Vanya, and a pout from Five who still didn’t want you to leave

you pinched his cheek for good measure before running off giggling

arriving at the kitchen, you were surprised - but not really - to see Five there

apparently he went into the kitchen “to help you carry things”

sure- he just wanted to see what you’d make

and so you made them all sandwiches and trimmed the sides off of course which earned youa pleased hum from your ever so helpful brother

his sandwich, after his persistence, had two extra marshmallows

after making their sandwiches you convinced him to head on first with them

and once he left, you went on to make tea for yourself, juice for both Ben and Vanya, and your special brew for Five

once entering the room, the tray of drinks was immediately snatched from you and popped onto the table with Five wearing a cat got the canary grin, “ahh the only person in the world who knows how to make a proper blend- aside from me of course.”

you rolled your eyes and thanked him for his rare compliment on your coffee making skills

Ben and Vanya thanked you for the snacks and you beamed at them and kissed their cheeks as a reply

which led to Five asking you where his kiss was

knowing you’ll get nowhere arguing with him, you kissed his cheek while he was in the middle of ranting of why he deserves a kiss too

which led to his rant being cut off and him spluttering while slowly turning red

which led to you, Vanya, and Ben laughing which resulted in Five slowly smiling and joining your laughter as well

and that’s how you spent your afternoon- the four youngest siblings bonding- talking and laughing about anything and everything under the sun until you ran out of topics and just laid in comfortable silence to the point where you all fell asleep

and that’s how the eldest four siblings found you-

Allison placed a blanket over all of you before leaving with Luther to go on their date

Diego took the trays, plates, and cups you used for your snacks and brought them downstairs before leaving to gomeet with Detective Patch

and Klaus- Klaus laid down next to you so you were in between him and Five and feel asleep almost immediately

the first sleep he’s had in years that didn’t contain nightmares- and of course it was because you were there

you were always there for him- for all of them, really

you never shyed away from showing affection

and you never failed to show your love and care for them

ever

[cauliflowercounty]

Meet Me in the Middle Pt. I (Fred Weasley x fem!Reader)

House: Ilvermorny, your choice

Blood Status: You Choose

Warning: A swear :)

A/N: You’re from the US in this fic!

I/H = Ilvermorny house

-----

“Settle down, students!” Professor McGonagall calls out to the group of 7th years in front of her. She glares over at the twins and Lee who are busy sticking their noses up and imitating her. Once they notice her intense glare, they quiet down, trying to stifle their laughter, still giddy from the start of school energy and being reunited after a long summer apart. 

“This year,” McGonagall begins “we’re initiating a new program in partnership with Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the United States.”

A chorus of murmurs floods through the group.

“For those interested, we are starting a pen friends program. Because of the success of last year in fostering international relationships with the Triwizard tournament, we thought it would be beneficial for both the student body here at Hogwarts and Ilvermorny’s to participate in this new program,” McGonagall explains to the group. All of the seventh years start to whisper to each other excitedly. Many of them comment on how this hadn’t been a possibility before or how they wonder what the wizarding world is like across the pond.

“You’ll receive one pen friend and if you sign up, I expect you to represent Hogwarts well, and remember this is a commitment. Don’t send the person one letter and then never again or there will be consequences,” McGonagall warns everyone. Despite her severe words, people grin with excitement. Fred Weasley thinks about it to himself as all his classmates clamor with excitement. He’d like to have a pen friend from the U.S., but he’s busy wondering if he’ll have the money to send them letters. He and George hadn’t actually sold many of their products yet and he only had just enough money to send letters to his parents back home and the occasional Honeydukes sweet or Zonko’s product. “Postage to the US must cost a lot since owls can’t go that far,” Fred thinks to himself. Maybe giving up the occasional Hogsmeade indulgence would be worth it.

“Cedric would have loved this,” one Hufflepuff near Fred murmurs and everyone falls silent, knowing what the Hufflepuff just said is absolutely true. Everyone in this year definitely felt Cedric’s absence in their year, but in this moment, the air felt heavy with guilt. McGonagall nods in agreement and sets out a paper for sign ups, adding postage will be paid for by Hogwarts and Ilvermorny. Hogwarts students will also write the first letter. Fred smiles in relief. He won’t have to spend all his savings.

“Oi, Freddie,” George nudges him.  “Are you going to sign up?”

Fred nods and rushes up to the paper that his classmates are crowding around. He takes out one of his quills and scratches his signature onto the parchment with a flourish. Returning to his best friends, Lee looks surprised. 

“I didn’t take you for a pen friend sort of guy, mate,” lee comments.

“What can I say, I’m spontaneous,” Fred replies, sure of himself this was the right choice. Leaving the room with George and Lee, Fred heads to his dorm room to start writing his first letter.

When he arrives in his room, he gets out a piece of parchment and sets up a small workspace on his desk.  Just as he sits down, he stops and starts fiddling with his quill. After a few seconds of hesitation, Fred decided to suck it up and start writing.

Hello,

I’m Fred Weasley. I apologise if this letter is a little awkward. It’s my first time ever writing to someone I don’t know at all. I’m in 7th year and I’m a Gryffindor, which values courage and bravery, if you don’t know.  

I have a twin brother. His name is George. We’re like the school pranksters. We currently are developing a line of sweets that make you sick so you can get out of class and other products that people would want like little objects that go off to cause a diversion, We’re also thinking about fireworks, but our main specialty is sweets. It all shows promise.

Georgie and I have never been academics, we’re more pranksters at heart if I’m honest. We’re quite good at charms and enchantments, though. I’m rubbish at potions, though. I hate to be boring, but what’s your favorite subject? I can’t think of anything other than that to ask you, but maybe in a future letter, we can talk about more interesting topics other than school.

Hope to hear from you,

Fred Weasley

Satisfied with his work, Fred folds his letter up and seals it tightly with a wax seal. The next day, he turns it in to McGonagall, who informs him it will be sent within the week. Walking away from McGonagall, Fred starts wondering who his pen friend is.

~

As the following Tuesday rolls around, an unfamiliar owl swoops into the 7th year Gryffindor boys dorms. Attached to its leg is a neatly closed, pristine envelope with “Fred Weasley” written in unfamiliar handwriting.  It hoots loudly at Fred, who scrambles off his bed, knocking a few prototype sweets onto the floor he was just working on with George. 

“Oi! Watch it, Fred!” George protests, but Fed’s already at the window, trying to pry the letter off the owl’s leg. As Fred gets a better look at the letter, he finds the front has been stamped with a MACUSA red stamp reading “INTERNATIONAL” complete with an eagle beside it. Excited, Fred rips open the letter and sits down on his bed, ignoring George who’s trying to get his attention back on the products. Once he’s comfortable, Fred opens up the letter and starts to read.

Hello, Fred Weasley.

I’m y/n. There’s no reason to be sorry that your letter is a bit awkward. Letters like this are out of my comfort zone as well. If it makes you feel any better, your letter felt perfectly natural.

I’m a 6th year in I/H. It’s honestly the best house of all of them. Thunderbird is for adventurers, Pukwudgie is for healers, Wampus is for warriors, and Horned Serpent is for scholars. Fun Fact: Ilvermorny was actually founded by a descendant of Salazar Slytherin and a No-Maj!  

You and your brother must be quite the dynamic duo. Starting a business is no easy feat, but it sounds amazingly interesting. I can’t believe you two were the first to think of sweets that make you sick to get out of class, but I’m glad you two got to the idea first. Please keep me posted on how your other products are coming along! They all sound amazing!

I also like charms and enchantments. My Charms teacher is really awesome. I honestly can’t decide what my favorite subject is. All of them have their ups and downs.

What’s it like at Hogwarts? I hear it’s a castle, but what’s the inside like?

- y/n y/l/n

George looks over at his brother and notices how widely he’s grinning. George notices the “international” stamp on the envelope and realizes what it is and now he’s no longer mad at Fred for knocking the prototypes on the floor as Fred scrambles to grab some parchment to write back.

~

A two and a half months later, you and Fred have exchanged many letters; you’ve exchanges so many you’ve both forgotten what round you’re on. A week ago, Fred sent along some of his products after you told him about the two Wampus bullies in your year, James and Martin, who enjoy tormenting you about your looks, smarts, and everything else under the sun. The package included a box of sparklers and then some sickness-inducing sweets. Alongside the box of charmed sweets, he also sent a box of real chocolates and a note.

The red box with the “W” has the charmed sweets in it! DO NOT EAT UNLESS YOU WANT TO BREAK OUT IN BOILS! The other box has some of my mom’s English toffee for you to try.

Giggling a little from his warning note, you wrote back and thanked him profusely for the gifts and promptly used the sickness sweets on both Wampus lugs, who ran off to the infirmary with large puss-filled growths protruding from their face in embarrassment.  When your dorm mates asked who the real chocolates were from, you feel your heartbeat in your chest as a light blush flushes over your cheeks, thinking of Fred.

Getting out of Potions, you take a walk outside to study as an owl swoops down. You take the letter, recognizing Fred’s handwriting.  

Y/n,

I’m glad the sweets worked. The two of them absolutely deserved it and now we know the boils can last for over 48 hours. That’s valuable information for Georgie and me.

Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but I was wondering if I could know what you look like? We’ve been mailing each other for such a long time and It’s been on my mind. I usually have a face I can put to a name. I’ve enclosed a picture of me in this letter and If you’re comfortable, I was wondering if you’d send one back? No pressure.

F.W.

P.S. The canary creams are a hit!

You look behind the letter and pull out the enclosed picture. You see a tall pale boy with flaming ginger hair. He’s smirking along with someone who looks exactly like him in the background messing with a familiar orange and purple Weasley box. In the picture, Fred has circled the twin in the foreground and labeled it “Fred” and the one in the background “my less handsome brother, George.” You let out a little chuckle. This is exactly what you expected from Fred.

~

A week and a half have passed since Fred sent the letter with the picture in it. With each passing day, Fred worries he’s driven you off with being too forward. He’s considering writing a letter to apologize and beg things can go back to the way it was. he misses writing to you and having to enchant the parchment so it looks scrambles so Umbridge doesn’t read his mail to you about the D.A. and then getting back mail you’ve charmed to look like doodles in a notebook. It was like your own code that you’d both have to undo to read.  

He missed hearing about ilvermorny and your classes. He longed for the day he could hear about the plan you’d set up with Fred’s help for revenge on James and Martin where you’d charm fireworks to go off and chase them around the Ilvermorny grounds until they admitted they were assholes.

George and Lee assured him that he had nothing to worry about, that you probably got busy with school work and will write back soon. Lee also suggested your letter might have gotten lost in the mail, but that thought only made Fred worry. Maybe you had sent a message long ago and you weren’t getting a response because he hadn’t gotten one yet, and maybe he shouldn’t send a letter now because it might pop up once he sends his own letter and he’ll look like an idiot. he can only hope a letter from you is on its way now.

As Fred begins to descend into another pit of worry the next day, an owl comes to land at his side. Fred grabs the letter with fervor, nearly knocking the poor owl off its feet in excitement. The owl hoots angrily in protest at Fred’s sudden movement and flies away after pouting and ruffling its feathers. He rips the envelope open, almost damaging the letter itself. Taking out his wand, he rushes to a bathroom so no member of the inquisitorial squad or Umbridge herself can see him take the charm off the paper that currently has a drawing of a sloth on it.

Dear Freddie,

I’m sorry for not getting back to you in the last week or so. I had a midterm and I didn’t want to let you down by only sending you a scrap of paper saying I had a test. I hope it went well.

Thanks for sharing that picture with me. You and your brother are very cute together. I didn’t expect your hair to be so bright, but then again, I’m not around many people with red hair. I’ve also sent you a picture of me. It was taken during Care of Magical Creatures. The niffler unit was my favorite. They’re like magical platypuses!

I hope it’s what you expected? I don’t know what to say (haha).

Wow! The Canary Creams are working finally? That’s awesome! Did feathers get everywhere? Who was the poor test subject?

I’m glad everything is working out, Freddie.  

- Y/n

Fred smiles down at the paper from within the stall. You’ve always been supportive of the business. You were almost as excited about it as he and George were. He looks down at the picture you’ve sent along with your letter and his heart skips a little bit. 

You’re smiling at the camera with a niffler in your arms. As the picture moves, you laugh as the niffler squirms and tries to reach for the shiny watch on your wrist. As he observes the picture more, he sees there’s a warm twinkling in your eye. you look so happy. Returning to his dorm room, Fred opens his trunk and tucks the photograph into the corner of his trunk next to some logo designs and a family picture with a pair of horns and a monocle drawn on Percy. He smiles. That’s where that picture will stay.

~

Time has passed, yet you and Fred have kept in touch. Fred’s now living above the shop in Diagon Alley with George after their grand escape from Hogwarts, which you supported him through one hundred percent despite never ever meeting.  

Throughout the months, you’ve both been mailing and you’ve helped him develop new products, acting as a remote filter and outside perspective for the twins, which you enjoyed the process of.  

All the while Fred has supported you through your last year at Ilvermorny since you’re a year younger than he is. Even though he didn’t finish school doesn’t mean he can’t support and help you at all.  

Through your letters, you’ve started calling him “your special Freddie,” making Fred’s heart swoop and swoon as he imagines what your voice sounds like saying it to him.  Time goes on and he’s falling, but Fred doesn’t resist it.  You’ve always been there for him and he knows he’ll be there for you through think and thin.  As he realizes he’s in love, he starts to worry that you won’t return his feelings, but even if you don’t he still wants you in his life.  You make him happy.  It’s as simple as that.

After getting up one morning, Fred heads down to the shop to do inventory downstairs. He notices that it’s darker outside today, even more so today than usual. Both he and Georgie have noticed things have been darkening lately with Voldemort and his followers running around Britain, but today is especially dark.  

Fred hears a knock at the door of the shop. The shop was closed today and most of the regulars knew that this wasn’t a time they’d be open. Cautiously, Fred draws his wand and approaches the door, careful to not step into view in case it wasn’t a welcomed guest. Fred peeks around the corner and notices it’s his father. Wand still drawn, he cautiously approaches the door.

“Which twin said ‘honestly woman, you call yourself our mother?’ at the station before my third year?” Fred asks through the glass at the man he thinks is his father, knowing his dad wants to abide by Ministry guidance about identification.

“Fred did,” Mr. Weasley answers but notices how Fred’s face sinks a bit at his response.  “You did. Sorry, Fred.”

Fred cautiously lets him in, not putting his wand away,

“Fred, Dumbledore is dead,” Mr. Weasley explains.  “Snape was the one who carried it out.”

“That tr-” Fred starts, but Mr. Weasley holds his hand up.

“I know, Fred. I just wanted to come by and tell you before you get it from the Prophet. I also wanted to tell you... We’re not safe anymore. The ministry has most likely been infiltrated or will be infiltrated in the next few days. Keep your guard up. With Dumbledore gone, this fight just got much more difficult,” Arthur explains, sighing deeply and rubbing his face.  “I trust you’ll tell George?”

Fred nods as his dad says goodbye and gives him a “see you soon” before apparating away. Fred locks the door and puts down the shutters with his wand. He rushes up the stairs and scribbles on a piece of parchment his last letter to you before the war, explaining what’s happening, that the mail is probably going to be tracked and opened, that things are getting dangerous. He insists that you shouldn’t write back even if it’s tempting and that he’ll write to you once the war is over.  Fred considers signing it “Love, Fred” because this might be the last time he ever writes to you, but doesn’t; he just writes:

See you on the other side of the war, y/n. Stay safe. 

Yours truly, Fred Weasley

-----

Read Part 2 Here!