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bacchicly · 2 years

Text

BIG TROUBLE IN RIVER CITY: A GARVEZ CASE FIC (PART 4)

Paring: Penelope Garcia x Luke Alvez

Summary: Dinner with the team and developing the profile over dessert. This is a “happier (i.e. there is no talk of Luke and Pen breaking up) / stand alone version” of the case fic which suddenly appeared in the middle of my lovers to friends fic (Deep and Crisp and Even).

Words: 3500

Content This Chapter: Another case centric chapter - so no canoodling - but lots of found family stuff and definite hints of Luke and Penelope being a couple. This one includes Spencer’s report on what was discovered at the morgue. More mentions of fat hate and some musings about the psychological damage it can cause both fat and non-fat people. CM type violence.

Content Overall Story: CM type violence / themes; unsub; sex (but can be skipped to or away from as I will put it in stand alone chapters - like PART 2)

Big thanks to @reidsbookclub and @scargarcia-magshotchner for their help with researching possible terms for hickeys - apparently the internet mostly just wants to teach us how to give them or get rid of them quickly!

And so much love and thanks to @vangsdroide for her help with this one (and all my writing!) - she really is one of the best people on the planet and deserves the world. Te quiero mucho! Always. 🧡

Emily scans her team to get a sense of how they are holding up. Rossi, Tara and J.J. are clustered together - clearly having a serious tete-a-tete in one corner of the BAU’s Ballroom basecamp.

Luke and Spencer are pointing at a map that’s been tacked up and marked with circles, red dots indicating where the victims were found, and green dots indicating - she’s pretty sure - their residences.

Garcia is probably back with the techs and Matt is nowhere to be seen - so Prentiss checks her watch - and indeed it is 6:45 local which means that her family man Agent has been able to slip away for his “if at all possible call” to say goodnight to his four children. Prentiss knows there will be a second call later tonight (if at all possible) to connect with Kristy. The love and commitment between those two is palpable.

Emily honestly wonders sometimes how they make it all work...

…she has enough trouble taking care of herself with this job - which as her stomach is uncomfortably reminding her, she has not done a great job of today having wolfed down a tuna sandwich at lunch and nothing since… dinner had better be next - she wonders if they should order something in or go out… they need to talk as a team - Prentiss can practically feel the case clock ticking down to the next tragedy - and restaurants aren’t always terribly pleased to have folks show up and talk about murder..BUT a change of scenery could do them all good...

Just then Emily feels her pocket vibrate with an incoming text - she pulls her phone from her pocket and wakes the screen - it’s from Garcia…

HEY GAL BOSS EXTRAORDINAIRE! 😺 RESERVATION MADE FOR PRIVATE DINING ROOM AT ITALIAN PLACE DOWN THE STREET - THEY ARE EXPECTING US IN 30 MINS - 5 MIN WALK - TELL THE TROOPS THEY HAVE TIME TO CHANGE. OH AND I WILL TEXT MATT SINCE HE’S PROLLY TALKING TO HIS DARLINGS. OH AND BRING YOUR TABLETS - I’M JUST ABOUT TO SEND OVER THE FIRST SET OF COLLATED FINDINGS - WE CAN DISCUSS OVER CAPPUCCINO AND TIRAMISU. CIAO!

The next text is the address. Prentiss smiles down at her phone amazed as always at the perceptive powers of Penelope Garcia… the bureau just can’t pay her enough…

“Hey Everyone! Guess what Garcia has organized for us? Oh and she wants y’all to bring your tablets...”

✈ ✈ ✈

Everyone agrees that the dinner is delicious and for the most part they follow Penelope’s edict that no evil or murder be discussed over the main course. So instead they talk about what they did for the holidays as kids (Matt’s family went on extra long roadtrips), their most embarrassing holiday moments (Tara had accidentally sat on a juice glass one year and six stitches later found herself at Christmas dinner), and their wildest requests from Santa (Luke had asked for a life sized robot mountain lion when he was five - with hopes of riding it to school).

But finally, coffees and dessert have been served, waitstaff have been dismissed, and it’s time to get back to the case.

Penelope’s actually the first one with her tablet out looking expectantly at the team as they finish up the tail ends of their conversations - Agents falling silent one by one as each in turn notices the intense look of their beloved technical analyst. Luke who purposely sat at the far end of the table from her to avoid the temptation to smile too much at her - or sneak a touch or two - is actually the last to hush and his guffawing laugh, at some tasteless joke Tara had just laid down, bounces around the room and then falls away as he follows Tara gaze and sees the sea of serious faces turned towards the one person he has been fighting against staring at all through dinner.

Now though - like everyone one else - his eyes are glued to her… her eyes are wide under her glasses, her brow ever so slightly furrowed from the strain of the case, and she's biting her lip.

Luke's hand slides off the table and he grips his knee hard enough for it to hurt. Hard enough to hold himself back from rushing to her side… his arm is just starting to shake when Tara slips a friendly hand over his tight one - gives two reassuring squeezes and then, when she feels him relax, pulls her hand away but not without giving him a couple extra pats that seem to mean "It will be ok - we're all here for her…and you ..stay strong and at this end of the table…we're almost done."

Luke takes a deep breath and is so thankful for friends and colleagues like Tara.

Emily - who seems to have been having a silent conversation with Penelope over who will speak first, with neither of them particularly wedded to being the one to officially end the little bubble of safety the team had found - finally clears her throat and addresses her Agents:

"As much as I would rather hear more about exploding turkeys and model trains, the time has come to review what we've learned today. I think we will start with Reid and then Garcia can do a quick overview of any commonalities that have jumped out to the collating team. From there, I'll open it up to all of you - and we'll see where we're at. No pressure, but I committed to sharing at least a preliminary profile with the lead detective tomorrow morning at 7am…and frankly I'd like to follow that meeting with a full delivery of the profile to the local force."

Rossi's voice claps like sardonic thunder. "Ahh so no pressure at all then? Alright kid, you'd better hurry up and dazzle us. What was to be discovered at the morgue?"

Spencer who's been adding sugar to his coffee, takes a sip - grimaces - and rips and pours another pack starts in - most of his attention still on perfecting his coffee:

"Well, of course most of the victims had been cremated - so the ashes are being submitted to chemical analysis but the full results won't be in for days - maybe weeks - and even then, the M.E's office is not expecting much. Cremation furnaces don't generally leave much trace of poisoning as most toxins are incinerated as part of the process. However, and this could be due to the large Catholic population in St. Antonio, five of the twelve bodies were buried whole and I was able to attend three of the autopsies done today. So with the latest body not yet released there are six relatively complete autopsy reports."

Matt leans forward with his question "So anything unexpected?"

Spencer’s cocks his head like a young sparrow - his eyes serious but intense with a curiosity that seems less frequent and infinitely more precious to the team since he returned from prison. “Actually? Yes. They still haven’t been able to figure out what substance was used to kill them - although there are several drugs that could have been used: succinylcholine, for instance, a muscle relaxant which was used in 2006 to kill a Nevada Senator. The coroner located a puncture site on Cathy Barlow’s upper right thigh - so we can assume that whatever was used was injected. But most interesting? On three of the exhumed bodies - Cathy Barlow, Clayton Sooze, and Bobbi Jean Ramirez - the coroner thinks all had a similar marks on their lower bellies and was able to confirm with a reasonable degree of accuracy that the mark on the last victim is a mechanical purpura-”

Penelope gasps in disgust. “No?! Ick. I really really hate this guy.” Everyone looks from Spencer to Penelope’s pinched face and back again. Tara is the first to bite…

“And, good Doctor, are you going to tell the rest of the class what a mechanical purpura is when it’s at home.”

“A mechanical purpura is a hematoma caused by an external force. There are several subtypes and in this case the coroner felt that the additional marks confirmed that it was-"

"Spencer, you know I love you. But if you don't cut the crap and tell them that it is a trumped up quazi-medical term for a garden variety hickey, I swear on all that is purple that I am going to boot your genius butt into next week."

Luke sits up straight, "A hickey??? Just one? On their bellies?"

Spencer nods. "That's the theory. The coroner is checking the other three bodies now to see if there are similar marks. The one on the last victim had teeth marks… which may be interpreted as an escalation of violent intent although there is significant research that suggests that biting with teeth is a common part of much love play. Did you know that the Kama Sutra refers to a love bite as the coral and the jewel…the coral of course is the lips and the jewel the teeth? There are actually eight different types of love bites described in the Sanskrit text - in one variation the lover creates a delicate chain or necklace of interlocking bite marks. Although on our victim's the marks are-"

Matt's voice is dry as he interrupts - not being able to hold back the wry comment "-garden variety hickeys?"

Spencer nods and his hands which were gesturing along with his explanation drop to his lap. "-just so. A single round dark mark made presumably by our unsub sucking on the victim's lower belly peri-mortem."

Prentiss' eyes snap back to alertness - she had slipped into deep thought as soon as the purpura was mentioned - her profiler's brain chewing over the new piece to the puzzle. "DNA? Can the tooth marks be traced or matched?"

"Swabs were taken but Dr. Craven wasn't optimistic. We may be able to compare the bite marks if we ever have a suspect in custody - but they are not very deep or defined so their value as evidence may be limited."

J.J. speaks up now, her tone wondering, "A love bite on three victims - none the same age - one Black - one Hispanic - one Asian - two females and one male. This unsub does not have a type - which was reasonably consistent with a poisoning vigilante - but the hickey suggests a sexual motivation and the lack of a more specific type is uncommon."

Tara's hand unconsciously - protectively - cups her stomach - but her professional devil's advocate comes to the fore… "...but can we assume the marks were sexually motivated? Why the belly? Stomachs are intimate - but they are hardly the epitome of erogenous zones…"

"Says you." Penelope darkly mutters almost under her breath. Luke catches her words just at his threshold of hearing and bites his lip - not quite sure if he's biting back a smile or a grimace. He wants to weave his fingers with her so badly… offer comfort... he knows he left at least one mark on her belly just last night while worshiping…

He swallows hard as the memory drags his attention back to the case. This is important. Life or death.

"...could the marks indicate ownership? Or authorship - a literal signature - I was here - I killed them. Or could it be desecration - communicating disgust - condemnation of their weight?"

"But why a hickey not a cut or a burn or punch or shot? I agree with J.J. I think there has to be a sexual element. This guy is getting off on something about this but whether anger or arousal…his control is absolute. Imagine having the discipline to leave just one mark…"

Penelope scowls down at her tablet and speaks up louder this time. "Control or disgust? Look, I don't know if a lot of women have this experience but men who are attracted to me are not always happy about it. I've… um… dated… more than one guy who was all sweet nothings and hot to trot but then severely remorseful or y'know mean afterwards… like it was my fault for tricking him into… wanting… someone like me. Like I had suddenly become sinful or unclean or… poisonous…"

Luke's head jerks up but he's looking anywhere but at Penelope. The almost-epiphany that spiked through him is battling to transform jn something coherent cohesive useful while the rest of him is fired up by the murderous urges clamouring inside of his brain and body.

Sensing his turmoil, Tara again puts a hand on Luke's sleeve - looking worriedly enough at Penelope for both of them.

Emily covers Penelope's hand with her own - sharing a worried look with J.J.

J.J. pushes away from the table and starts to angrily pace the small private.dining room.

Matt is mulling over the new options - his jaw working…

Rossi is outwardly cool but inwardly squirming at the memories of the once or twice or twenty times when his younger self wasn't as kind as maybe he could have - should have - been.

Spencer's eyes are closed as he sips his over-sweet coffee and thinks about the probabilities and the different types of poisoners. Calculating and predicting.

"...poisonous… poison… Do you think that's it? A love turned to hate thing?"

Penelope's eyes are wide and earnest - her blond hair halo-ing her head - framing her expression. The question is said to the team at large but its tone is directed unthinkingly at her lover. Penelope is not just posing a question about the case, but about the workings of the universe. She is asking for light in the darkness.

Luke meets her eyes then - his face impassive - his tone steel derision - not directed at Penelope but at the picture of the world she and this case has opened up.

"It would explain unexpectedly attractive partners."

"How so?" Rossi leans into his question - his whole attention focused on Alvez - the timber of his voice betrays real curiosity.

Luke answers Rossi but speaks directly to Penelope.

"Imagine falling in love with someone completely amazing. Someone that your friends and family - maybe strangers - casually imply or even flat out tell you isn't good enough for you because the person you love happens to be fat... and you aren't. But you know… you know… something they don't… no matter how it looks to the outside world… you are the lucky one… you are the one isn't good enough… and yeah the person you love is beautiful on the inside - but to you they are also beautiful - desirable - on the outside… but… but… you can't help it.. part of you believes your friends… your family… believes the anti-fatness propaganda you've been fed and swallowed your whole damn life… and so part of you believes you're lowering your standards…you're doing your lover a favour by being with them… by deigning to love them and then… and then…"

Luke stumbles on the ugliness…so Emily completes the thought.

"...and then something happens and they reject you. Maybe you try to fix things - ask for another chance…"

J.J. stops pacing. She death-grips the fancy wood of the backrest of her empty chair then adds a theory into the pot…

"What if it's the couple's happiness that first captures the unsub's attention? Like some sort of real-life how-to video on happy relationships with fat people?"

Tara is nodding "...but then the switch flips and instead of admiration and love it's self-recrimination, self-disgust..."

Rossi is there with the topper, "But that's too painful and so the rage and hate is turned outward...and no one would - could - blame you..."

Penelope is a million miles away - a lifetime ago - but the words are here and now - they are not words she is saying but words that were said to her.

"You're gonna regret this. I am the best thing that will ever happen to you. Better than you deserve. Fat Bitch."

✈️✈️✈️

Back at the hotel the team splits at the elevators - no one suggests a nightcap at the bar - they will be delivering the profile first thing and they need to retreat to their own corners and hopefully unwind, get some perspective, and maybe some sleep.

This time the groups are not divided along gender lines - Prentiss, Garcia, Rossi, and Alvez are in the second car and the rest are in the first. The ride up is companionably silent but when they disembark long enough after the second car that the corridor is empty of their colleagues - Alvez leading the way - Rossi last - Prentiss clears her throat and asks Garcia for "a word".

Luke and Pen share the quickest of looks - then with a smile and a cheerful "Anything for you mon cap-pi-taine!" Garcia allows herself to be ushered into her boss's hotel room - Rossi invites himself in too but gives Luke a pointed if regretful look as he closes the door on the younger Agent.

Luke seriously debates at least knocking - maybe insisting loudly that he be let in too - or just breaking down the damn door… but he ultimately pushes down the hurt and worry and decides to just go wait in his room and listen for Penelope's return and hopefully a knock at their adjoining door.

✈️✈️✈️

"Penelope, I have two things to ask you and you can say no to either of them or both. I will not order you but I do want you to make up your own mind."

"So that's why you guys locked out the Newbie? I mean, I get it, but aren't you two the ones always telling me to be nicer to him?"

Rossi watches his boss arch her eyebrows at their beloved technical analyst refusing to change the subject. When Penelope realizes she is not going to win this one she huffs and flounces over to the chair to make herself comfortable for the pitch, Rossi plunks down on the bed - eager to see if Prentiss is going to ask what he is expecting - and smiles as he is struck, not for the first time, how much he respects and loves these two women.

"Lay it on me, Boss, before I get nervous and grumpy and say 'no' in a fit of unthinking revenge. C'mon! Hurry hurry! It's been a long day and bed is calling!"

Prentiss' seriousness drops in the face of these antics and a glossy smile and deep chuckle bubbles out despite herself.

"Alright! Alright! First, I'd like you to help deliver the profile tomorrow. You've done it before on cases with digital considerations - so I know you know how we do it and how insightful you can be - but this would be a bit different since I am asking you to be there as an expert on your personal experience. Technically I shouldn't even ask, but I really think your participation could be invaluable."

"That makes sense. I'm in. Next?"

"The next one is the bigger ask…and it might not even be necessary. We'll have to talk about it as a team before anything is put in motion. Also you don't have to make up your mind right away - and even if you agree - you will have an opportunity to reconsider - but I will not even bring up the option for discussion with the team unless you give me permission first..."

Rossi starts nodding - but his smile has vanished and he's pretty sure he's guessed two for two.

"So here's what I am asking: while we of course will be pursuing the typical investigative channels - there is another option we could explore - but it would be dangerous and I am not convinced it is either worth the risk nor even remotely guaranteed to work. Essentially what I am thinking is that we could mount a sting. We could bait the unsub by posing you and another Agent as a happy couple. You'd need to wear padding since you don't quite fit the body type our unsub is targeting - but I think we could make it work. I mean-"

"Emily? I'm in. Bring the idea to the team."

"You're sure?"

"Yep. And now I am leaving - if that's all? This woman is T.I.R.E.D. Capiche?"

"Of course! Go! Get some sleep!"

Penelope heads for the door - she wasn't lying when she said bed was calling to her - but just before she disappears into the hall, she turns to her boss with a twinkle.

"Em? I'm not going to lie - it's the first ingenue role I've been considered not fat enough to play. It's a nice change. Night, Boss. Night, Monseigneur Rossi!"

✈️✈️✈️

To be continued…in part 5

Master List | List of One Shots & Happy Versions | Micro-Garvez

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ptergwen · 3 years

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smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it.

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions.

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

#tom holland #richkid!tom #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

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drabsyo · 3 years

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I was wondering...I was always confused about Narcissa’s hair. It’s been a while since I read the books. Did she color it blonde to show her now belonging to House Malfoys. Or was it naturally blonde? Movies confused me a bit I guess.

Yes, this had me confused too! I've agonized and toiled over it, more than I probably should, about how I should draw her hair because people have generally different views, which is totally understandable! 💕

And I've always wanted to discuss it, so now that I've been given a reason to... Well.

If you take a look at some of my Narcissa fanart, you'll notice the different ways I'd color her hair. I was so confused. Is she a light blonde? Dark blonde? A mix of raven hair and blonde hair? If she has blonde hair then why does her family have (mostly) dark hair? And WHY does she have blue eyes?! This woman is absolutely confusing! (Which is kind of, you know, fitting because Narcissa always loves to be a mystery to literally anyone lol)

So I did my homework, asked around, and scoured every bit of information, canon or otherwise, that I could find about her. It led me to this:

In canon, this is what the Black sisters look like. You can find the page here. Narcissa is a child here, and already has blonde hair. So we can go ahead and safely assume that she was born with natural blonde hair. But in the films, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. I don't actually know why they gave her that hair color, maybe so that the audiences wouldn't question her blood relations with the Blacks--I don't know. I really don't. But now we have a book version Narcissa, one who has full blonde hair. And a movie version Narcissa, one who has raven and blonde hair. At least, that's how the different hair colors started: a movie version, and a book version.

So... here's where it gets confusing.

To my knowledge, it isn't actually explained why her hair color is the way it is in both the movies and the books. Having blonde hair does raise many questions, how is she the "only" blonde in a family of dark hair and dark eyes? To top it all off, it gets even more confusing, because fanon writes and draws her either as a full blonde or a mix of raven and blonde hair. We just have this large pile to sift through of her having either hair color. No one actually explains anything. She's just... infuriatingly there. She's either blonde or raven haired and blonde. BUT fanfiction writers, as I've observed, give their own reasons why Narcissa's hair color is the way it is in their respective stories. And it's actually pretty creative and interesting! It adds even greater depth to her character, and it fits the narrative of the story even better. Remember, the character we're dealing with is Narcissa Black. One of her main traits is "she won't do anything unless there is a clear purpose behind it." This character is deliberate, meticulous, and she makes sure to plan ahead at all times. And so, some fanfiction writers decide to play on that.

You can skip this part if you want to avoid spoilers but I've compiled a small list of instances in (Cissamione) fanfiction where Narcissa's hair is mentioned.

🔹 In Extinction by rubikanon in Chapter 10: Build and Break, Hermione asks Narcissa about it. Here, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. She explains that she only decided to dye it blonde to "fit in with the Malfoys." We can gather two things from that alone, which resonates with her character perfectly: 1.) Narcissa is loyal and 2.) Narcissa purposefully wants to show the rest of the world how loyal she is by committing to having blonde hair. The woman has some serious commitment, and it shows. But now, the way that it's slowly growing back into her natural black hair color, hints that perhaps Narcissa no longer wishes to fit in with the Malfoys. However, if we take an even closer look, we can safely assume that Narcissa isn't the kind of person to just leave her hair color "unattended" like that. Remember, she's meticulous. And this is a big deal for her, the fact that she's just kind of letting it grow back instead of either fully dyeing it back to black, or dyeing it back to blonde. It suggests that perhaps she's a little unsure this time, perhaps it is her uncertainty that is the reason why it's now a mix of both. Another grey area? Or maybe it's actually something more deliberate? Maybe now, she likes that it's a mix of both. That other half now being solely for Draco, and not to fit in (completely) with the Malfoys any longer. Who knows why Narcissa does things the way she does? We can speculate to the ends of the earth, or be as smart as Hermione Granger (or with the case of Extinction, see Hermione's thoughts), but something tells me we'd still be a good step behind.

"Which one is your natural hair color?" I wondered aloud.

(Narcissa) She glanced up at the unexpected question. I was relieved she hadn't sensed my attention yet. It's not like I meant anything by it, I told myself. She was so beautiful, one couldn't help but notice. And feel physically drawn to her. And want to see her two-toned hair fanned across her back, slipping over the bare skin, silky beneath my fingers...

"Why do you ask?" Her query brought me back to reality, and I hurriedly corrected my imagination to include a pretty dress covering the rest of her.

"I don't know." I chewed the inside of my cheek, suppressing my other thoughts. "I'm just curious."

Her gaze returned to the fire. "You've seen enough of my relatives to guess which color is genetic. The blond is something I added to fit in with the Malfoys, after Draco was born." She was quiet for a moment. "He looks so much like his father. I suppose I wanted to share some resemblance."

🔹 In Killing Me Softly by Looktotheedges in Chapter 4: Nagging, Hermione suggests that perhaps Narcissa is part Veela because of her blonde hair and very attractive features, like Fleur. Which is this whole other theory/plot that's very interesting, but won't be discussed in this post. Narcissa tells Hermione that Sirius has always been blonde, and that it isn't out of the question for her to be blonde either. Sirius Black. A blonde. I know! Maybe it's there because it's funny that Sirius is actually blonde like Narcissa. Prissy, haughty, lady-like Narcissa. Arguably the 'girliest' cousin that he has. No, no, no. He doesn't want to be anything like Narcissa. Anyway, if that's the reason, I think that's hilarious and cute.

Narcissa turns away. 'I am aware my appearance is frightfully drab. Work has been…'

Hermione holds back a disbelieving scoff. 'Narcissa. You always look beautiful. And you’re talking to the witch with grass in her hair who practically lives in her office all week.'

Narcissa just leans further over the crib. 'A blonde little boy. It has been so long since… I can almost imagine…'

Hermione stands next to her. Looks down at the peacefully sleeping Louis. He does look remarkably like Draco. 'Are you sure there’s no Veela blood in you? You weren’t secretly switched at birth?'

'Like a changeling?'

'It would explain your blonde hair.'

'Sirius was also blonde, it is not completely out of the question for us Blacks.'

What?!

(...) 'I know. But it is the truth. He was blond until he was about seven… then it began to darken. Mousy. Dull. He wanted to look cool and brooding instead, so he got his hands on some kind of charm right before he set off for Hogwarts. A new, edgy Sirius. It was around then he forbade us from calling him Siri. Said it sounded too girly.'

🔹 In Fixed in Time by TheWorldsaBeastofBurden in Chapter 9: Sisters and Saviors, it's also tackled a little humorously. Andromeda let's a little comment slip while they're in the middle of trying to heal Hermione. Something funny, something that suggests Andromeda and Bella, when they were children, have always wondered why Narcissa is blonde unlike them.

The first words spoken occurred after they’d risen and attempted their casting. Andromeda’s preparedness to take on their task had been clear in her mind so Narcissa rose with her sister, wrapped an arm around her waist and held her near as the woman raised her wand to draw up the rest of the injury she’d dropped, half a slash across Hermione’s hip bone…

That remained half, as Andromeda growled out, “...it isn’t working.” she looked to Narcissa, “Why aren’t you powering me?”

What nonsense? “I am!” she insisted. She was! Or “I- I am trying to!” Her magic was active and alive, pulsing to rise from her skin and transfer into Andromeda’s but it- it wasn’t working! “Could...could it be that you were disowned?”

“Disowning doesn’t take away the fact that we share blood, our magic is directly related. Ugh, Bella always said you were adopted!”

“Oh ha- oh.”

“...oh?” Andromeda returned.

“...it’s not an issue of power. It is what I intend to aid in casting,” Narcissa slowly worked out. Oh, it was most blessed Mister Goyle could be brought to assist the present Hermione. If her present self had been brought to aid Andromeda? “...I cannot harm Hermione.”

Andromeda sighed with some frustration. “I understand you are so tenderly in love-”

“It isn’t- I’m avowed! I- when we arrived from the future we had to escape Malfoy Manor, I couldn’t bring Hermione through the wards without...I couldn’t add her directly, that would be visible. I had to...attach her permission to mine.”

🔹 In Glass Silence by Zarrene Moss (Menzosarres), which probably gives one of the most interesting backstories for Narcissa's hair, for why it's blonde. I can't put a clip of the scene here without hogging up a huge chunk of space on your dash, so I'll try to explain it as best I can instead.

Understand that these come with serious 🛑spoilers🛑 so please do read it at your own risk.

In Glass Silence, Narcissa's hair and eye color was black at birth. But after an accident with raw magic, something Bellatrix wasn't able to control when they were children, Narcissa almost dies. Bellatrix, using even more raw magic, tries desperately to pull Narcissa's "life force" back, but at the cost of losing the eumelanin that made Narcissa's eyes and hair black. Narcissa survived, but now has very little eumelanin left, which is why she's so pale, blonde, and has blue eyes. Every time Narcissa looks at a mirror, her reflection is a reminder of the day she almost died. Bella, on the other hand, is reminded of that day every single time she looks at Narcissa.

So! These are only a few fanfictions I could think of at the top of my head that tackles the issue of Narcissa's hair. In the books, to my knowledge, she is described as having blonde hair and very pale skin.

But let's take another deep dive, if you're up for it.

These are mostly theories, which are largely unconfirmed, but I think they're interesting to think about.

There's this description in the wiki:

"Narcissa Malfoy is described as tall, slim, "nice looking", and very pale, with blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a clear, cold voice. Her hair colouring thus differs from most of the House of Black, who generally have dark hair, though Narcissa does possess the arrogant good looks characteristic of her family."

There's also this pinterest photo of the Black sisters being compared to each other side by side, descriptively and physically. I'm so sorry, I don't know who drew it, but here's a link to the post on pinterest.

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

Which is interesting because this hints that she's... different. It's a bit literal in this sense--she comes from a pureblood family, arguably the most influential and notorious one, the Blacks, who mostly have dark hair and eyes, and yet her physical appearance directly contrast that. There's also the matter of her namesake. She's the only Black to be named after a flower instead of a galaxy or a star. We aren't really given any explanation why she's the only one who's different. Even Sirius, who fought and died for the side of the Light, is named after the brightest star in the sky. Even Andromeda. It's been said that this is actually meant to be a parallel of some sort to Lily Evans. Narcissa and Lily are both named after flowers, even Petunia (Lily's sister). And I know there's this thing where it's a tie up to how Harry was ultimately saved by a mother's love: Harry lived at the beginning because of his mother's love, and Harry lives once again at the end of the books because Narcissa, a mother who wanted to save her own son, saved him.

If you read that scene in the books where Harry is saved by Narcissa, the whole scene is actually... pretty soft? There's that sort of disarming softness about Narcissa in that moment, where Harry expected to be callously dragged and prodded for a heartbeat. Instead, he gets a surprisingly gentle touch, a curtain of long blonde hair shielding him from the darkness, and the kind of tenderness he wouldn't expect from his enemies, "Is Draco alive?"

It's almost like Narcissa's appearance is something of a "tell". With Andromeda, she's described to have kind eyes, open, unguarded. She inherited her family's dark eyes and dark hair, and she even looks like Bellatrix's twin. I suppose we could say, Andromeda wants to fight that in any way she can by being openly kind. Narcissa is quite literally the opposite--guarded eyes, stoic expressions, cool and calculated emotions. We're veering into this fine line between fanon and canon in terms of their characterization (but only due to lack of canon materials) but personally, I think Narcissa having blonde hair and blue eyes is somewhat more fitting for her character. Again, this line:

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

It's like that one glaringly obvious hint that everyone overlooks simply because... because it's the most obvious one. "Me! I'm different! I'm the last person you'd expect, but it really is me!"

Anyway. I've rambled on long enough. Hope this clears up some of that confusion, anon. Hoping it didn't ADD even more confusion... 😂 At the end of the day, this is just me speculating, gushing, and being One Big Fool™. So.

But either way, blonde hair, dark hair, mix of both, I adore her. Pretty much.

#narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #cissamione #anon #HAIR TALK #drabstuff #stupid ramblings

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Seven // Wanda Maximoff

chapter six | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter eight

author’s note: hope y’all like this one 👀

The Maximoffs were just as a good at throwing a party as my own parents were.

Celebrating a new book that was published at Pietro's business, they threw a party in their back garden big enough to host half the town if they wanted to. Actually, now that I thought about, half the town was probably there.

We were invited to celebrate along with them because we were 'family' now, as Oleg and Iryna pointed out, so I found myself standing in their garden getting a drink under the night sky and trying to blend in with the snacks table so I wouldn't have to mingle. Parties still weren't my thing, clearly.

People-watching was more my forte. It was amazing the things people did when they thought nobody was looking. One guy coughed into his hand and wiped it on his pants – I reminded myself not to shake his hand – whilst some woman checked if her teeth were clean on the back of a serving tray.

My gaze raked the garden, indifferent to the men who attempted to get women's attention with a boyish grin and terrible pick-up lines, or the women who lifted their dresses a little higher than necessary to steal a man's attention. I spotted my parents talking to some guests whom I'd never see before, then there was Wanda's parents laughing alongside Pietro as he told a joke to some important looking people.

Eventually, my eyes fell to the remaining Maximoff, who was looking especially beautiful tonight. A deep lilac gown adorned her figure and she wore it like it was uniquely made just for her. She probably didn't even realise, but all eyes were definitely on her; a simple stride around the garden had people turning heads to see who the lilac beauty was. Y/B/N was the most envied man of the evening, with every guy here wishing they could have Wanda on their arm.

I'd wanted to tell her just how truly stunning she looked tonight, but I hadn't been able to pull her away from my brother's side for even a second. Everywhere he went, she went, too. I'd caught her eyes maybe three times tonight since she was so involved with whatever she spoke about with the people who worked for Pietro. I didn't take it personally of course, but it didn't make me feel any better.

Y/B/N had his hands all over her, probably suspecting just how many people were checking her out tonight, and I hated the way it made me feel. Envy and jealousy came over me and it wasn't pleasant. His hand was permanently fixed on her waist, at times moving suspiciously lower and making me roll my eyes. Occasionally, he'd lean over and whisper something in her ear making her flush – involuntarily or not, I didn't know. Wanda was a good actress, appearing as the perfect fiancé to him and couple to everybody else. Or, at least, I hoped it was acting.

"Pretty ladies shouldn't be standing by their lonesome," said someone with a Sokovian accent, but sadly not the one I wanted to hear.

"Pietro," I said with an amused smile, turning to face the man of the evening. "Congratulations on the new published book!"

He smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Y/N. How are you finding the party?"

I glanced around, disguising my discomfort with a nod. "It's great."

He chuckled, as if suspecting that was a lie, before changing the subject. "So, the book. Have you read it?"

Glad that this was something I could actually talk about, my shoulders relaxed and I nodded. "Yes! I bought it yesterday as soon as it was published. I've only read the first six chapters, but what I've read is beautifully written."

Pietro snickered, raising his brows. "Only? That's further than anyone here has read."

I smiled bashfully, eyes veering elsewhere with embarrassment. "I guess I just have a lot of free time."

He hummed with amusement. "And you must really like reading... Wanda mentioned you write, too. It's nice to know it runs in the family."

Certain my cheeks were flushed, I nodded. "Yeah, our dad, he taught Y/B/N and I how to write when we were kids. That's where my love of literature began."

"And what do you like to write?" he asked, intrigued.

I shrugged, the grip on my glass of champagne loosening as I grew comfortable. "I don't know... short stories, drabbles, novels. I mainly deal with themes of love and romanticism. We're so intent on leading our lives with what other people want that we rarely take time to think about we want... I write about that."

Swallowing, I looked to Pietro, hoping I wasn't boring him. He was a publisher after all, besides my soon-to-be brother-in-law. His opinion was important to me.

"I must admit, Y/N, my interest is piqued," he admitted, watching me with an inquisitive gaze. "Do you have anything I could read?"

"It's probably better than it sounds," I said dismissively, knowing this was just small talk.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I doubt that. You shouldn't say such things. You never know, you could be my next signed author."

I tried not to laugh. "Nice try, Pietro."

He smiled widely. "What? I'm serious!"

Tilting my head towards him knowingly, I sighed. "We both know that can't happen."

He was grinning now, clearly entertained by my unamused expression. "Says who?"

I motioned around us with my drink. "Says everyone? The world we live in?"

He began to list authors on his fingers as he said, "Jane Austen. Emily Bronte. Mary Shelley. Louisa May Alcott. Dare I name more?"

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said, pushing his hand down and rolling my eyes at his smug expression. "But I can promise you that all of those women fought tooth and nail to get published. Their families probably weren't as accepting as they wanted them to be. There's still people now who talk about how unprofessional and lacklustre their works are. They didn't have it easy. Still don't. And don't even get me started on the reputation side of things for you... d'you know how much backlash you'd get for signing a woman?"

Pietro shrugged, sipping his drink, before saying casually, "I only care about talent, Y/N. And if you have even a quarter of the talent your brother does, then I'm happy to go from there."

I quirked a brow, trying to gauge if he was pulling my leg or not. But the kind eyes looking back at me suggested he may not have been. Either way, the idea of actually being published – something I'd been dreaming of since I was a kid – was enough to raise my suspicions and make me shake my head.

"Thanks for listening, Pietro," I said conclusively, hoping he got the hint.

He nodded, accepting my word, thankfully. "Anytime. Hopefully this isn't the end of this conversation, though."

I cracked a smile, knowing it was but giving him the benefit of the doubt. He pursed his lips, glancing around briefly before attempting to hide an amused smile.

"What are you smiling at?" I teased, nudging him in the arm slightly.

His eyes met mine, sparkling with mischief. "You've probably not noticed, but as we've been speaking, almost everyone in this garden has looked our way."

I cocked my head with confusion, smile still present. He nodded subtly, eyes flickering to the right, so I followed his gaze and inconspicuously looked around. He was right, as murmurs of gossip escaped people's lips, their eyes trying to get a good look at the two of us. Even our parents were looking our way, no doubt discussing our future wedding affair.

"Wow," I breathed out, trying not to laugh as I looked back to him. "You'd think they'd have something better to do."

He leaned in, muttering, "Wanna give them a show?"

My eyes flickered between his, seeing that roguish charm of his come to life. I couldn't resist his mischievous attempt to piss off our parents, so of course I nodded with a stifled laugh.

"Care to dance, Miss Y/L/N?" he asked, a little louder than he needed to, attracting more attention.

I grinned, grateful for the idiot that was Pietro. He was already making my evening ten times better than it was.

Resting my hand in his outstretched one, I nodded. "Thank you, Mr Maximoff."

I barely had chance to put my glass down before he led me to the area before the live band that was strumming a lovely upbeat ballad. We joined the other couples that were also having a dance, unbothered by their nosey stares.

Bowing dramatically, he smiled and I curtsied before resting a hand on his shoulder and the other in his. He rested a hand on my waist respectfully before a grin spread across his lips and he began to dance me around everybody else, way too fast for me to keep up.

"Pietro!" I exclaimed between fits of laughter, trying not to trip over my feet or his.

"You said we could dance," he answered simply, before spinning me around.

My eyes went dizzy as he dipped me, making me laugh joyfully. For the first time all night, I was having fun. When he pulled me up, his eyes motioned to the left of us.

"D'you think our parents have already picked the wedding venue?" he teased.

"Definitely," I said with a nod, before shoving him back slightly. "But you, mister, need to slow down. You're like a speedster with the dancing. We should call you Quicksilver."

He laughed, continued to dance me around but much more slower this time. "I like that. You're clever. I can see why Wanda has taken a liking to you."

I knew he didn't mean it like that, but my heart dropped to my stomach anyway. A hearty chuckle escaped his lips as he noticed my expression. Thankfully, he didn't question it and we continued to make a fool of ourselves for a few more songs before taking a break by the snacks table.

"You're an idiot," I told Pietro as we caught our breath, but a delighted smile was on my lips. "You know you've probably convinced our parents that we're a couple now, right?"

"Hey, you're the one who started to fluff my hair like you loved me!" he retorted with humoured eyes.

"Because you're just so darn cute!" I mocked him, before moving forward and going in to fluff his hair yet again.

He attempted to smack my hand away as he said, "Hands off the hair, Y/L/N! I styled it perfectly!"

Grabbing my wrists, he held me back and I tried not to cry with laughter at the expression on his face.

"Such a child," I decided, pulling my hands away. "Whatever happens from here on out is definitely your fault."

He scoffed, as if ready to refute that fact, but before he could say anything, my brother's voice was heard.

"It's nice to see you actually conversing with people for a change, but maybe not my publisher."

Pietro and I turned and saw Y/B/N and Wanda approaching us. My brother seemed entertained by Pietro and I, looking between us with pre-conceived ideas that we may have already fancied each other, just like everyone else had tonight. Wanda, meanwhile, was watching me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"He's good company, what can I say?" I joked, returning my brother's smile.

"Oh?" He raised a brow, knowing look in his eyes.

I rolled my own, trying not to laugh at his insinuation. There was no point trying to convince him otherwise.

"I was just giving Y/N here the best evening ever since she was moping around in the corner," Pietro explained nonchalantly, making me smack his arm.

"I was not moping!" I defended myself.

He shrugged, ghost of a smile on his lips. "Whatever you say."

I gave him a playful glare before focusing my attention to the couple before us.

"As lovely as it is to see whatever this is," my brother continued to make things awkward as he motioned between us, "I came to get Pietro. Someone from the press is here and has questions about the book."

At the mention of this, Pietro straightened up and neatened his bow tie, flashing my brother his most confident smile. "Lead the way, Y/B/N."

After assuring Wanda he'd be back in a second, Y/B/N let go of her waist and guided Pietro to the members of the press. Glad that he'd finally left her side, I looked to Wanda with a soft smile.

"Hey," I said quietly, glancing around before saying what I'd wanted to say all night. "You look radiant tonight, Wanda."

Unexpectedly, she crossed her arms and pressed her lips together firmly. "How was your dance with Pietro?"

Her green eyes, literally green with envy, watched me with distaste. It didn't take long for me to recognise that familiar jealousy entwined in her expression because it was probably the same way I looked when she was with my brother. For some reason, this made me smile with amusement.

"He's a very good dancer," I said, half truthful and half trying to poke fun.

She wasn't amused. "Yeah, everybody saw. You've been all over him."

I covered my mouth, trying very hard not to laugh. "I mean, he's pretty funny to be around. I can totally see why everybody wants us to get married."

Her jaw clenched as she narrowed her eyes at me.

"C'mon, it's a joke," I said lightheartedly, nudging her in the arm. "You know that."

After internally debating whether or not to believe me, she relaxed her shoulders and unclenched her jaw. "I know."

"So, what's the problem?" I asked, raising a brow and smiling playfully.

She rolled her eyes. "Nothing."

My smile faded as I searched her eyes. "C'mon. What is it? You know you can tell me."

"Forget it, Y/N," she muttered, avoiding my eyes.

Realising she was still clearly bothered, I sighed dramatically, hoping to lighten the mood. Making sure my voice was low enough for only her to hear, I said, "I only danced with him to annoy our parents. Same with him. He's clearly not interested in me and neither I with him. That's why we get along so well." Teasing her once more, I added, "If circumstances were different, I'd like to think we'd be good friends. He's quite handsome, though I think the good looks are a Maximoff twin thing. Maybe if–"

"I'm in love with you!"

I paused, blinking, unsure if I'd heard correctly. Her cheeks were flushed as she looked to me with exasperation.

Glancing around to make sure nobody was attracted by her outburst, I swallowed hard. My heart was pounding in my ears as she said what I'd been struggling to accept for the past two months.

"What?" I breathed out, raising my brows with surprise.

She licked her lips, realisation replacing her look of admission. Opening her mouth to say something, she stepped forward, but my brother returned with an oblivious smile on his face and interrupted the moment.

"Wanda, the journalists want a picture of us for their article," he said enthusiastically, returning his arm around her waist and tugging her close, making my skin crawl.

Her gaze lingered on me for as long as she could before looking up to my brother with a halfhearted smile.

"Sure," she agreed reluctantly.

My brother nodded at me before leading Wanda away. She gave me one last look, her eyes trapped with unsaid words, before leaving with him. My mouth went dry as Wanda's words echoed in my mind. She was in love with me. And I knew I was in love with her, too. I had been for a while.

But wouldn't admitting that make this whole thing a lot more complicated?

—

"Will you stop shaking your hand? It's very distracting."

I stopped shaking my hand and gave my mum an apologetic glance before facing the door again. I was extremely eager and nervous to see Wanda again, as I hadn't been able to see her for the rest of the party last night.

Her words were permanently resounding in my mind all night, making it difficult to fall asleep. The reality of our situation had dawned on me and I knew that even though everything would become more difficult between us, I had to tell her that I felt the same way. The last thing I wanted was her panicking that I didn't. Because these last two months loving her in secret were better than anything I'd experienced in my life.

Iryna and my mum had made plans to hang out today, including Wanda and I in the plans without actually telling me until this morning. I didn't mind though as I was hoping it could be an opportunity for us both to finally speak.

The front door opened to reveal Iryna with a bright, inviting smile. She exchanged greetings with us both and ushered us inside instantly. There, waiting, was Wanda, looking as gorgeous as ever. A calm suddenly enveloped me as I looked to her, my heart fluttering in my chest more so than usual. She loved me and that thought alone made me feel giddy inside.

"You must come upstairs to the closet with me," Iryna insisted before I could utter a word to the brunette. "I've been very silly and impulse-ordered a bunch of new dresses. Of course, the only way to fix that is to try them on."

My mother laughed alongside her and the two of them looked to Wanda and I questioningly. I smiled their way, glancing at Wanda, before following them upstairs. Maybe later.

I spent the next hour trying on clothes against my own will, modelling them for Wanda and our mothers awkwardly. Ecstatic, our mothers threw their opinions out at me, but I was barely listening because all I could seem to focus on was a quiet Wanda. I couldn't read her mind for the life of me – she was getting better at hiding how she truly felt.

Wanda also tried some dresses on, still not as enthused as she usually was, but neither of our mothers seemed to take notice. I sat on the lounge sofa alongside them, eyes unable to look away from Wanda as she modelled the dresses. I had no words, my mind hazy and tongue tied as she stole my breath away for the millionth time. She was ethereal.

"...what do you think, Y/N?" Iryna asked, forcing me to look away from Wanda and to her. "She should keep this one, shouldn't she?"

I hummed in agreement, looking back to Wanda, who was avoiding my eyes. "She should. I don't think I've ever seen a dress so perfect for someone before."

Our mothers didn't seem to think much of my comment, but Wanda finally looked up, not ignoring me for the first time since I got here. I offered her a small smile, hoping she could see what I'd been wanting to say to her since last night. But she looked away, chewing on her lip and looking down.

"I'm gonna change," she mumbled, before turning to go back behind the curtain.

A sigh escaped my lips as I leaned back against the seat. I'd just have to find a spare moment.

Iryna and my mum proceeded to try on a bunch of dresses before we called it a day and were ready to eat lunch.

"I want you to have these, Y/N," Iryna told me as we all stood up, motioning to the pile of dresses on the arm of the sofa. "It's my gift to you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, Iryna, you don't need to give–"

"Don't be ridiculous," she cut me off with a wave of her hand. "You're family now. Anything for my daughter-in-law."

I smiled awkwardly, not missing the eye roll from Wanda, before nodding. "Thanks..."

She looked to her daughter. "Wanda, medovyy (honey), can you help her pack them away and meet Y/M/N and I outside on the patio for some lunch?"

Wanda, having no other choice but to say yes, nodded and forced a smile in her mum's direction. "Sure, mum."

Our mothers fell into conversation as they left the room, finally leaving Wanda and I alone. I released a breath, grateful for the privacy, and looked to the Sokovian in question.

"You okay?" I asked slowly, wanting to find a start before erupting straight into my feelings.

She nodded, nibbling on her lip. She looked like she wanted to say something more, so I watched her patiently.

After a pause, when I thought she may just stay quiet forever, she spoke. "If what I said last night was out of line, I'm sorry."

I shook my head, a smile curling on my lips. "It wasn't. I'm in love with you, too."

Surprised, she finally met my gaze, eyes swirling with confusion. "You are?"

"Of course I am," I said quietly, stepping forward and taking her hands in mine. "I didn't mean to make you jealous last night. Pietro and I were genuinely just hanging out as friends."

She shook her head, eyes flickering between mine. "It doesn't matter about that. Forget it."

I still felt guilty, adding, "I know, but it does matter. I don't want to–"

She pressed her lips to mine quickly, cutting me off. Her fingers tangled in my hair as she tugged me closer with her other hand, making me gasp when my body touched hers. I kissed back, closing my eyes and moving my lips against hers in perfect sync.

I probably could have kissed her all afternoon, but the sound of the door opening made us both jump apart, startled. It was just a servant who was coming in to clean up the room. When she saw us, she gave us a small smile before moving around the room carefully. My eyes fell to Wanda's excited ones, and I smiled at her before nodding to the dresses.

"We should sort this out before they wonder what's taking so long," I told her, moving to pack them.

She nodded, grabbing my hand and squeezing it gently before helping me. We packed the dresses in no time before joining our mums out on the patio where they were sat with our lunch. I tried to keep my eyes off Wanda as our mothers spoke to us about God knew what, but it was hard when all I wanted to do was kiss her over and over, telling her just how much I loved her.

"...nice to see you both getting along lately," Iryna was talking, and I only zoned back in when I realised she was looking at me.

I blinked. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Wanda stifled a smile as my mum gave me a disapproving look from across the table.

Iryna didn't seem to mind as she chuckled. "You and Pietro," she continued. "You both seemed very comfortable at the party last night."

I settled on a polite smile. "He's a gentleman. Very nice to be around, I guess."

Iryna smiled knowingly, exchanging glances with my mum before patting Wanda on the forearm, getting her attention. "How does that sound, dear? Your brother and Y/N together?"

I shook my head instantly, realising how she'd taken my words. "That's not what I meant."

Humming in response, Iryna continued to look to her daughter. "You may have to start sharing your new best friend with Pietro."

Remembering Wanda's jealousy last night, I spared her a glance of concern, hoping she wouldn't let this get to her. She was smiling, but her eyes were dimmed with dismay.

"Uh-huh," she played along with her mother's words, before using her fork to pick at her food.

As our mums began to talk about it, I found Wanda's hand under the table and laced my fingers in hers, hoping she'd know I only cared about one person and it was her. Though she didn't look up, her hand tightened around mine and she didn't let go.

The rest of the lunch went by as expected, though the more Iryna and my mother mentioned the wedding, the more Wanda and I grew uncomfortable. It was so much harder to hear about it when I knew my feelings were growing stronger for the brunette every day. By the end of the meal, my mother was happy to go back home and said I could stay to hang out with Wanda, which of course I did.

After bidding her a goodbye, I let Wanda drag me upstairs and to her bedroom, though the door closed when she spun around and pushed me against it, immediately kissing me. Before I could even question what was happening, she pulled away and looked at me through a half-lidded gaze.

"I don't want to share you with my brother, ever," she rasped out lowly, before licking her lips. "I don't want to share you with anyone."

She breathed out, her breath mingling with mine. Her hands rested on my waist before she reattached our lips, moving hers slower and more thoughtfully against mine.

I closed my eyes, grabbing her face and holding her gently, letting her slip her tongue between my lips and play with mine. Then she sucked on my lower lip, teeth nibbling gently at the sensitive skin, and made my insides go warm and fuzzy.

When she let go, she trailed kisses down my jaw and to my neck, having me at her mercy.

"Wanda," I moaned, hand moving to the back of her neck as I tried to regain some control of the situation, but the longer she sucked at the exposed skin, the more my knees wanted to buckle.

Already lowering my dress to my shoulders, her hand untied the back of it and I flushed at the contact of her fingers against me, not used to the feeling but also not opposed.

"Wanda, are you sure?" I asked between bated breaths, attempting to get her attention by tugging at her dress.

She pulled back, hand rising to my jaw and caressing it with her thumb as she looked between my eyes. Hers were dark, clouded with an arousal I hadn't seen before.

"I am," she said with certainty, before asking, "Are you?"

I swallowed hard, the warmth in my core growing hotter as she stared at me with lustful eyes and swollen lips. "Yes."

She gave me a slight smile before pressing her lips to mine again, allowing me to wrap my arms around her neck. I heard her lock the door behind me as I undid the top of her dress, struggling to do so without breaking contact from her. We moved to the bed clumsily, trying not to stumble over our discarded dresses, before I laid her down and straddled her.

Leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck, I felt her fingers grip my waist, keeping ahold of my body on hers. I shivered as her nails scratched gently against the skin and grew warm when she lifted herself up gently to get more comfortable, her clothed centre rubbing against mine.

Taking a breath, I pulled away and hovered over her, revelling in the beauty that was Wanda Maximoff. Her cheeks were dusted pink as she opened her eyes, green eyes sparkling desperately as they flickered between mine.

"I love you," I told her softly, leaning on my elbow and caressing her forehead.

She smiled, nails trailing up my back and sending shivers down my spine. "Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu."

I tried not to laugh as I tilted my head with confusion. She smiled a little wider, hand reaching for the back of my bra.

"I love you, too," she translated in English, hint of amusement in her eyes, before she managed to undo the bra strap.

I rolled my eyes at her attempt of mockery before chasing down her lips once more. Everything about the woman before me was absolute perfection and I was glad I could finally share how I felt about her without having to hide it anymore.

The potential consequences of our actions was not my concern right now... all I cared about was treating her with the respect and care she deserved.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine

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amphibious-entity · 3 years

Text

TMBS Book 1 Brain Dump

~An Embarrassingly Long Post~

I don’t know why I’m writing this or why I’m so determined to do it. Maybe to finally assume my true form and become a mega dork on main, or maybe just for fun!

This is basically a compilation of all the main points running through my head after reading The Mysterious Benedict Society (2007) for the first time. Rather than posting a ton and spamming the tag, everything’s here in one neat package! (hopefully this gets it all out of my system rip)

Contents:

The Book Itself

The Book Itself, for real this time

The Characters

A Funny Parallel

The S.Q. Section

Lines & Scenes I Liked

Spoilers abound!

The Book Itself

Upon acquiring the first three books (don’t judge me pls), I was surprised at just how long they are. Like, they’re still pretty light being paperbacks and all, but these books are hefty lads.

The first book has this Disney+ Original Series circle thing printed on it, which is kind of unfortunate. Regardless, I love the cover illustration and yellow is actually my favorite color :D It made me weirdly quite happy whenever I saw the book lying around in my room

Also, it’s really cute how there’s a letter from Mr. Benedict at the end! (It only reveals that you can find out his first name if you “know the code”, meaning the bit of Morse printed below the summary on the back.) Shock and horror, though, as I realized I’m starting to recognize some of the letters

The Book Itself, for real this time

It’s wonderful how the tone of the book really shone through to the show adaptation. Something about the deliberateness of the aesthetic, from the set designs to the fashion to scene compositions, that really sells that particular style— like it’s very clear that this story is being told to us, rather than one we’re seeing unfold, if that makes sense.

Where that narration style stood out to me the most was the first chapter. We are told (rather than shown) how Reynie gets himself to the point of the second test, and there’s this whole twisty time maneuver for that whole sequence of events that’s really interesting

A super secret fun fact about me is that I wanted to be a writer when I was younger! So this particular balance of show vs. tell is really neat, since it runs counter to my own tendencies. The sheer amount of commas in every sentence is also kind of comforting, since Ahah, I Do That in those few serious-ish attempts at writing lol

Overall this book’s style reminds me a lot of Roald Dahl’s books, which are very nostalgic for me :D The whole “kids are more competent than adults” angle helps a lot too haha

The Characters

Oh boy here’s where I get a little bit critical! Overall I did really like this book!! it’s just that that expresses itself in all this weird “”analysis”” lol

Reynie - much better in the books than in the show

It’s sort of a lukewarm take but I feel like show!Reynie is kind of boring? He doesn’t have a lot going on flaw-wise, and obviously since he’s the protagonist he can’t have too many weird traits or else the kids watching can’t project themselves onto him as easily

(I call it the difference between an aspirational protagonist and a vessel protagonist. Going off of the Roald Dahl vibes, think Matilda vs Charlie. show!Reynie is more of a Charlie)

Thus when we get to see him really struggle with the Whisperer and doubt himself it gives him a lot more dimension, at least in my opinion

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

Sticky - my son

I’ve long held to no one besides myself and my long suffering sister that Sticky is The Best Member of the Society

He happened to hit a lot of the Bingo squares of Stuff I Like In Characters: glasses, anxious, nice :), kind of a coward but ultimately is there for his friends, etc

For some reason I don’t talk about him nearly as much as you-know-who, but I love him just as dearly

Kate & Constance - I don’t have much to say

Kate is really interesting in this book! I like how we get to see more of her depths, in particular that one passage about her belief that she is invincible being the only thing that keeps her from falling apart? :c

Also her constant fidgeting is relatable lol

Constance is somehow a lot more tolerable in the book. I think I’m just one of those people with no patience for small children, unfortunately lol

(Some of) The Adults

It’s interesting that they had such an offscreen presence for most of the book. Giving them more time was probably one of the stronger changes of the show

However if that decision was made at the expense of the white knight scenes I think the choice should have been clear

I like the way Rhonda and Number Two are written

Milligan always on sad boy hours 😔✊

The “mill again” passage is touching but kind of messes up the pacing of the getaway, at least for me. Maybe I should read it again to make sure I didn’t miss something

Miss Perumal is much better in the show. We see so little of her in the book she doesn’t function well as an emotional anchor for Reynie, imo

The Institute Gang

Jackson and Jillson serve their purpose well, and Martina was surprising to say the least. I like the direction they took her in the show! I can’t imagine how funny it must have been to watch the tetherball subplot come out of nowhere lolol

These sections were written out of sequence, so random tidbit I couldn’t fit in The S.Q. Section: I like how he stumbles over his words. relatable

Mr. Curtain

While I think I know why they decided to not give Curtain the wheelchair in the show, we were totally robbed of Actor Tony Hale’s performance for the reveal during the final confrontation

Speaking of the wheelchair, it’s such a powerful symbol of his need for control or rather, his fear of losing it

The Contrast between him and Mr. Benedict. This point is expanded on in A Funny Parallel

Mr. Benedict

Oh boy, Mr. Benedict… How do I say this

I find it hard to trust Mr. Benedict, unfortunately

I mean to say, I do in the sense that I know he would never hurt the kids, thanks to knowing that a) this is a children’s book series and b) the meta (tumblr) states that he is really nice and lovable and stuff, but seriously. Why do the kids trust him at first?? I probably missed something somewhere

I like to think I’m an optimistic person, but unfortunately I’m also super paranoid. The premise of “a bunch of vulnerable orphans team up with a strange old man” is just so odd to me I don’t know how to explain it

I don’t know!!! I really want to trust Mr. Benedict

One of the strengths of the show is that we get to see him more often, and thus he gets to acknowledge more often that the plan is weird and that he feels really badly for putting the kids in danger and that he’s trustworthy and genuine

But his lack of presence for most of the book just makes him into something of a specter, invisible and unknowable, speaking only in riddles from across the bay

Which is why the white knight scene is so important!! I loved that scene ;-;

Because here’s an actual emotional connection! We can actually see it happening, rather than only being told that it exists

Reynie asking for advice and receiving encouragement, in words that demonstrate that Mr. Benedict actually cares about him and worries about him and agghh

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

But overall this whole issue didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the book at all! It’s just ->

A Funny Parallel

Okay, ready for my biggest brain, hottest take ever??

Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain…. are… the same

I mean obviously not entirely, given that one is benevolent and kind and the other is… Mr. Curtain

But seriously. Genius old man seeks out children (mainly orphans) to enact a plan. Said children often end up incredibly devoted to his cause and deeply admire him this is a little flimsy

Undoubtedly that’s intentional and is supposed to show the difference between them, like some kind of cautionary tale? “Let yourself be vulnerable and let others help you, lest you turn eeeeviiillll”

I guess that’s where the aforementioned epic contrast comes in. You get Mr. Curtain, strapped into his wheelchair and hiding behind those mirrored sunglasses, terrified (but unwilling to admit it) of ever showing the tiniest hint of vulnerability, vs. Mr. Benedict, who can let himself fall knowing that someone will catch him :’)

Anyhow I have nothing against the parallels, I just think it’s funny

The S.Q. Section

The S.Q. Quarantine Thread so it doesn’t leak out everywhere else <3

I’d like to meet the emo angstlord genius who read this book and decided to make SQ into Dr. Curtain’s son. What in the world

Okay I should probably preface this by saying that I absolutely adore both book!S.Q. and show!SQ with all my heart. Somehow, despite being a completely different character in both mediums, he has managed to be one of the best characters in either and certainly one of my favorites (besides Sticky of course) in the entire franchise, despite the fact that I’ve only read the first book/watched the show so far. I am confident in this statement.

But seriously! How?? Why?? I could probably write a whole other essay about why show!SQ is such an interesting character, and the change works so incredibly well. I’m just. Baffled

Okay, focus. book!S.Q. is such a sweetheart, oh my goodness. Like, 100% one of the most endearing characters in the book. Poor guy. I don’t even know where to start!!

He just seems to be a genuinely good guy at heart, despite being technically one of the bad guys. He’s genuinely happy for Reynie and Sticky when they became Messengers and helped Kate when she “fell” and was concerned about Constance when she looked sick and how he was in that meeting with Mr. Curtain and Martina?!!? aaahhhhghgh ;-; he just wants people to be happy TT-TT

Comparing him against literally every character at the Institute is probably what makes him so endearing tbh. When everyone else is so awful to the kids, it really makes him stand out. Like a cheerful little nightlight in the worst, most humid and rank bathroom you’ve ever been in

It’s kind of pointless to theorize about a book series that’s already concluded (I think?) but. Is the implication of S.Q.’s forgetfulness supposed to be that Mr. Curtain used him in brainsweeping experiments somehow? The timeline probably definitely absolutely doesn’t line up but like. How did he get to being a Messenger being the way he is now, given how cutthroat the process is? And then of course Mr. Curtain keeps him around as an Executive because he’s fun to mess with and presumably his loyalty. I’m very curious as to how their relationship develops in the other books, if at all. Those are probably where the seeds of the “let’s make them family” logic were planted

But wouldn’t it be hilarious if the reason we don’t know what “S.Q.” stands for in the books is that he just. Forgot

Another thing that occurred to me. Given that he and the other Executives were Messengers at some point, what were their worst fears? What is S.Q.’s worst fear?? Inquiring minds need to know

One last horrible little anecdote: I was thinking about book!S.Q. while eating breakfast, as one does, and suddenly it hit me.

I want to believe The Author Trenton Lee Stewart had the name for a character, S.Q. Pedalian, and was like, “Hm! What sort of quirky trait should this young fellow have?” Because, of course, in this style of fiction every character has to have at least one cartoonish or otherwise distinguishing trait to stand out in the minds of children. (For instance, Kate has her bucket, Sticky has his glasses, Constance is angry, and Reynie is Emmett from the Lego Movie)

Anyhow, he looks around the room, searching for inspiration. Suddenly he comes across a jumbo box of plastic wrap. Completely innocuous in design, save for one line of text. 300 SQ FT.

“…large… S.Q. …feet? THAT’S IT!” i’m sorry

Lines & Scenes I Liked

In no particular order!

Sticky quotes Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Evil combination aerobics/square dancing in the gym with the Executives

Everyone being happy at the end :’)

Everyone partying after Sticky reunites with his parents, and later finding Mr. Benedict asleep at his desk from the moment they shook hands :’’)

Literally any scene with Sticky in it

Any time Kate says “you boys” or “gosh”

[“Um, sir?” S.Q. said timidly, raising his hand. “A thought just occurred to me.” / Mr. Curtain raised his eyebrows. “That’s remarkable, S.Q. What is it?”] clown prince of my heart </3

S.Q.’s determined monologue about searching for clues after he bungled up the first time

Literally any scene with S.Q. in it (please refer to The S.Q. Section)

Reynie trying to resist the Whisperer.

[Let us begin. / First let me polish my spectacles, Reynie thought. / Let us begin. / Not without my bucket, Reynie insisted. He heard Mr. Curtain muttering behind him. / Let us begin, let us begin, let us begin. / Rules and schools are tools for fools, Reynie thought.]

NO MORE HURTIN’ WITH CURTAIN

Milligan showing up on the island!!

Remember the white knight hhhhhh

“controle”

A Super Secret Bonus Section

I would be extremely surprised if anyone read through all the way down here lol. Regardless, here’s a little acknowledgements section :D not tagging anyone since I don’t want to bother all of these people

Special shoutout to tumblr blog stonetowns for unknowingly yet singlehandedly demolishing my reluctance to read the books by posting a ton of cute quotes. Thank you for your service o7

Thanks to the two OGs that liked the post I made right before this one, for being my unwitting enablers and for sticking around despite being a) technically an internet stranger (hello!) and b) someone I haven’t spoken to irl in literal years (hey!!)

Last but not least thankz 2 my sister for putting up with me ranting about the book when I first got it and for asking about “CQ” sometimes lol. (i desperately hope you’re not reading this orz)

#the mysterious benedict society #this took me like three days to finish rip #it’s worked though! i feel less of a Mighty Need to think about this stuff constantly now #however!!! today through some conniving i have gotten the Second Book #now I’m at 3 out of 4 infinity stones. muahahaha #was going to include my villain origin story about why i like show!SQ so much but cut it for being too long and irrelevant. however #if the words jeff naomi and Sweet Dreams are Made of These mean anything to you please hit me up. it’s kind of a funny story

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practicalmagicintuitions · 3 years

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“The fates lead the willing and drag the unwilling”

I was thinking about that last MT podcast HC had when he mentioned stoicism and a book I have but I haven’t read yet. So I decided to deep dive in a little bit because I studied philosophy at the university at a very basic level but I always wanted to know more, so this seems a good occasion. I am also interested in what HC could see in this philosophy school. I think we all know at this point he is interested in things that interest his people, not necessarily him or he is dropping ideas, new things fast. So one part of this will be a summary of stoicism because I feel many people have misconceptions or don’t know what is this just saying this is sh*t even don’t have the slightest idea about it. The other part will be a little HC armchair analysis by me throughout this topic. And I also decided to read the book he mentioned - Viktor E. Frankl Man's Search for Meaning - and maybe I will walk through it or give you a summary if you interested.

Bare with me, because this turned out to be long, but I had to get out his from my system.

Not soon after the pandemic and the lockdown started in 2020 Penguin Random House said the print sales of Marcus Antonius’s Meditations are up 28% for the first quarter of 2020 vs 2019, while print sales of Letters from a Stoic are up 42% for the same period. The ebook sales rose by 356% . This boom was because of the pandemic but the popularity of modern stoicism has been an upcoming thing for a while especially since people like Bill Gates or Warren Buffet allegedly used stoicism in their business and Thomas Kaplan is supporting a Stoicism Course at Brown University. But unfortunately, modern stoicism has become kind of a ready-made lifehack, a self-helping method, that’s why books like Ryan Holiday’s one could be published and becomes a success. This is where I see modern stoicism’s faults.

Stoicism seems a good school to support or to follow in the pandemic because this is about we have to accept the things we have no control over. Probably that’s why the sales went up. This is about don’t letting uncontrollable things or events messing with your judgment and clarity. Fear, screams, panic, rages don’t help. And I think we can agree this is true. Aurelius wrote his Meditations in the middle of a battle when his men were dying not just because of the fights but because of a pox epidemic and top of that he was an Emperor. So to maintain his sanity he had become a stoic. He didn’t have an influence on the epidemic so he just accept it and didn’t spend his energy raging about it.

Stoicism was founded by Zenon around 300 BC. And it was a thriving and popular school without huge wars or pandemics or anything. Back then it was not a reaction to something but a preparation for something. More directly prepare yourself the thing you cannot be prepared for. And probably this is the OG stoicism most valuable teaching that there are events in this world we simply cannot control. What we can control however how we react to those events. Are we remain calm or think this is a catastrophe. Let see a very basic example. We are mortals, we will die no matter what. This is a sure event we have no control over. What we can control that our view on this. Will we panic? Refuse to even talk about death or refuse to make a will because “OMG I will die then!!” Like spoiler alert, it will happen, will or no will. Or we understand our time is limited and try to enjoy it and not see smaller inconveniences are tragedies. I am sure we all know people who think if they spill themselves over with coffee or the handle of the grocery’s bag comes off it’s a pure tragedy and they are capable of thinking about this all day as something it is happening with them always an exclusively.

Until this, I think it’s all good we can use this in our daily life. What is dangerous in the OG stoicism is that the stricter wing of it thought emotions as a whole or almost all of it cause confusion so you basically should eliminate emotions to have that clarity on life. That’s why Diogenes wrote that the wise is emotionless. And this is the main and very valid criticism again stoics, that with taking away the emotions they basically ripping of humans from something very unique valuable, important, because our emotions make us humans. And because living totally emotionless is kinda impossible this goal is not realistic, so it causes many frustrations ( oh my... even more emotions!) Because think about it, who are described as emotionless? Psychopaths.

You have cases, events, when your emotions, even overflowing ones are right and acceptable and suppressing them, could be dangerous. Because realistic or not Marcus Aurelius and Seneca and the other stoics idea was not just watching the world and letting things happen, shrugging a shoulder and say nothing, no! Their philosophy and aim were to eliminate the bothering things which not let you think calmly. And since we are talking about philosophy the reality of this in practice is secondary. Critics also think ( and maybe the modern stoicism is going in this direction) that a hardcore stoics care only about themself and their egos while Seneca says friendships are important and in general most stoics accepted positive feelings (to a certain extent).

Stoicism comes back to life mostly in psychotherapy around 1900 by Paul Dubois ( before him there was another new wave of stoicism in the 16th century) and that’s where Victor E Frankle is connected to this topic. I haven’t read his book yet but I know his method is called logotherapy (logos= meaning) and this was born in the deepest existential crisis when his whole family was killed in a concentration camp and he felt he had remained only one personal freedom, the way how he reacts to the circumstances. Frankle invented his own method so he is not just planted some ancient in the modern world but he in fact thought Socrates and his philosophy is his inspiration. I won’t talk about this more until I read his book.

* I wanted to listen to the whole podcast again, but I couldn’t so I just went to the part we care about now.

So they are talking about morning routines and he mention that one of his teachers in primary school said to him “Always expect the unexpected” This is pure stoicism and while I am not suggesting he is lying I noticed he likes to blend his current interest with his childhood memories like when he said at the WitcherCon how they had to build a fantasy castle in the school (or something) and this was such good preparation for him because he has a fantasy series now. Convenient right?

So he mentioned the teacher and a little later hinting that he is into stoicism lately. Question is, which comes first? The teacher with the stoic idea or the stoicism as a new interest somehow repainted his childhood memories?

Then he again is talking about the stoic’s way of control. Or does he?

“ focusing on the thing you can control and make yourself better to control them”

This was never part of the OG philosophy because that is not about being a control freak. It is actually the opposite. If you cannot control something let it go, not force things to go on your way and if you failed then you let go.

The next part it’s not about this topic but I have to mention it because I kinda overlooked it when I listed this at the first time.

He is asked about the fitness industry’s mistakes and he said

“I wouldn’t be the kinda person to point my finger at anyone and say there is a big mistake there…. I wouldn’t ever want to point to finger at anyone saying there is a mistake “

So… should I insert the FO post here? And I know the question and the answer was about fitness but he clearly has no problem pointing fingers at people.

This leads to us again to the control topic. His FO post is creaming about controlling. “ You don’t like the way I am dating? You don’t like I have a covid romance? Then I will tell you what to do and how to behave because I need to have control over my fandom”

When the host asked him about overcoming obstacles he mention the book - Victor E. Frankl Man's Search for Meaning. (he also said it’s difficult to give advice…)

While he is talking about the book (and for me, it’s clear that the host doesn’t give a damn about this) so HC’s whole tone is changed. Just compare when he is talking about MT and training and so on, he is so irritating and unlistenable but here he is calmer, doesn’t use his voice so expressively, doesn’t emphasise that much in a sentence etc. This to me shows he is actually craving after something more, something deeper, something serious. Not just talking about his ties and blueberry smoothies. I don’t think is dumb (I think he has dumb choices thought) I think he could be more both as an actor both as an individual because when he was talking about the book I felt he has a true, genuine interest and it was a one-second opportunity to talk about something interesting not just fart powder.

I feel his interest in stoicism is an attempt to validate why he is oppressing his feelings. I am sure he does this because he is uncomfortable with his feelings, past and present. For example, I think instead of the bullying his main trauma is being sent away from home to a boarding school and experiencing cold treatment from his mom (the infamous stop calling story). But he oppressing this because I guess all of his brothers he is looking up to loves their mom and he feels he needs to be a good son but questioning his mom means he is a bad one. So instead of admitting that he is hurt and damaged by it he is saying the bullying was his worst experience.

This means to me he doesn’t understand stoicism, ancient or modern he just wants and moreover, he needs something he can hold and cling to, something that gave himself meaning. As a book’s title says: Man’s search for meaning. And I feel HC does this maybe a little bit desperately. Searching for the answers and this moment he thinks stoicism is the key to finding what he is looking for while in reality, the main problem is he doesn’t ask the right questions. And without them, he won’t find any answer. Or meaning.

Title quote from Seneca

#pmitarotreadings

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daisydaisybilly · 3 years

Text

life on mars | one | b.b

summary: after an accident y/n wakes up in 1940s Brooklyn with no idea what happened they had no option but to accept help from two stranger

word count: 1.3k

warnings: inaccurate knowledge of Brooklyn, mention of violence/fights, questionable medical stuff, swearing, hints to drowning and that's it i think

A/N: this is something i've been working on for a while and i feel like it's finally ready to be put out there. opening from a grey's anatomy episode!

shout out to @rosewrites for letting me borrow Sparkles from her story Cardiac Arrest which is amazing and you should all check out!

!!has been edit but likely missed a few things!!

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN | SERIES MASTERLIST

The back of the ambulance was tightly packed . This was your least favourite part of being a trauma surgeon, being the one they called when they needed someone fast. A handful of doctors were already at the scene tending to people.

You ran through all the information Joy, the paramedic had mention before you sent off. A boat had capsized near the pier, you weren’t sure what injures you would need to treat but you were ready.

As much as you wanted to keep your mind on your job, your mind kept finding its way to Stephen. After his accident he became more of an ass than he already was. You did everything you could to help him, gave him all the time you had to give. You were there every time he woke up from an operation along with Sparkles his not-girlfriend.

Operation after operation. The only thing that changed was his mood. After his last chance failed, he disappeared looking for something that would help, you only reason you knew he was still alive was thanks to Sparkles, she was the only person he’d talk too.

"Dr Gold we're here" Joy called from the front seat.

You snap out your head, grabbing your kit jumping out the back of the ambulance. when you were out you looked out at the scene before you, people lay on the floor, doctors attending to at least three patients each.

After a deep breath you got straight to work, assessing how serious their injuries where and if they could wait. Thankfully there wasn’t many serious injuries, you started to walk towards the information centre when you spotted something, no someone in the distance.

You started to run towards them, no wonder they hadn’t been seen they were hid behind a shipping container. “Sir can you hear me?” you reached down and tried to find a pulse, you sighed with relief finding one. “Okay sir, can you tell me what hurts?”.

Turning away you reached for your kit, you looked around wishing you hadn’t come alone if something happened now you didn’t have many options.

“Sir. I need to check your injures. Can you to tell me where it hurts” you tried again, checking his pupils, at least you could rule out a brain injury for now.

“my arm”

You looked down to his left arm, “okay, everything will be alright sir” you smile down to him, he just nods weakly back.

From where you were you couldn't get a good look at the arm. With one last look around you walk around and knelt by his other side. The cold sea air hit your back making the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

You breathed. Reached down to pull away his coat. Saw a deep red cut. You reached across to get some gauze from your kit. And then you were falling backwards. Everything moved in slow motion, you didn’t feel anything until you hit the cold water.

Shock. You were going to go into shock . You started to kick against the current as it tossed you around, you saw the water ripping above you. Just a little more and you’ll be fine, then you hit a pillar. You gasped pain distracting you, the water rushed into your lungs.

You felt a burning in your chest. The dizziness from your head was worse, you were sure there was blood mixed with the water.

You movements got slower, you breathed again, forgetting it was all water.

Would anyone find you? would they get to you in time?

Your movement was no existence now. The burning stopped, not a good side but you were too hazy to care. You closed your eyes.

A cloudless blue sky met your eyes. Birds flew above calling out to one another. Blinking you tried to remember where you were and why you were looking up at the sky in damp clothes.

You remember the water, it filling your lungs until you couldn’t take it anymore. You must have washed up on the shore, slowly you stood up looking around for help. Everything was the same. But everything was different. You were forgetting something, you just didn’t know what.

“How did I end up here?” you wonder turning in a full circle. Looking down at yourself, the blue dress and white apron sent an odd feeling through your chest. Lay on the floor next to you was a long brown coat.

You tried to think back before you fell in the water but nothing came up, whatever you were doing before was out of reach now.

You walked from the shore, trying to find your way to the streets. After 5 minutes of wondering around until the site of a building stopped you. You couldn’t point out why but you knew it.

You needed to touch it, something about it was different, you thought it you didn't feel it everything would disappear like a dream. Your hand was shaking as you reached out, the brick was cold and hard under your touch “what am I doing?” you murmured questioning yourself.

All around you people were getting on about their lives, talking, and laughing, among it all only one thing stood out. Someone was yelling. Either no one else heard what was going on or they just didn’t care.

When you looked down the closers alley you saw two men fighting, no, a man fighting a young boy.

“Hey!” you yell before you could think. The two, stop fighting looking your way.

“Nothing to worry about, honey. Move along” he man winked over his shoulder.

You huffed a breath of anger and walk closer, you pulled the man back by his shoulder. “I think it is”. The man was too shocked to move at first, staring at you opened mouthed like a fish. “Word to the wise don’t call anyone, love again”. You pulled him further away from the kid.

His eyes flashed with anger , he lifted his hand to hit you. You dodged it, then threw your own punch to his chin, then a kick to his stomach. He fell to the ground, your breath came heavy as you looked down at him.

A noise to your left took your attention away. That when you remember the young boy. “Are you okay?”, you reach out and to help him up.

“ Thank you miss, but I had it under control” he got up without your help, leaving your hand hanging in the air.

Closer up you could see he wasn’t a boy but a smaller grown man.

“He says that all the time” a voice laughed from behind.

You jumped turning around. There was another man, a rather handsome one.

“I’m guessing he likes to make a habit of it then” you breath smiling. “I’m afraid I can’t just let a bully get his own way” you nodded down to the passed-out man by your feet, “I might have hit him a bit too hard”.

The handsome man shrugged. “Teach him a lesson, no one wants to get taken down by a woman”.

You laughed.

Someone clears their throat, “Bucky”.

You turn away raising an eyebrow. “what?”

He nodded to the handsome man behind you, “His name. And I’m Steve”.

You smile nodding, “Nice to met you”.

“So Goldie, how come you’re soaking?” Bucky spoke.

You looked at him confused. “That’s not my name-“.

“Sorry nurse Gold how come you’re soaking wet” he waved his hand.

“Nurse?” you laughed.

Bucky pointed to your chest, “Your name tag says nurse Gold”.

“Is everything alright?” Steve had moved so that he could stand in front of you, Bucky had come closer too.

You reached up again and touched your head, it was still wet. “I feel into the water and I must have hit my head”.

“Can we help?” Steve asked worried, he put his hand on your shoulder, like you were going to fall any minute.

You laughed, “You don’t have any dry clothes lying around do you?”.

taglist open!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #marvel fanfiction

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Young Hearts Divided (3/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader / James Potter x Female!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.3k

Part Summary: As James and Sirius continue to act strangely, Y/N struggles to figure out the reason. When James asks her to do something, the pieces start to fall into place, leaving her even more confused than before.

Masterlist

James and I study for History of Magic all afternoon following copying Lily’s notes. James is lucky I actually understand History, otherwise, we’d both be in trouble. As I go over the chapter with him, he takes notes for the first time on this portion of the book. During class, he’s usually sleeping or doodling. It’s rather distracting being his seat partner, especially when he asks me to play Tic-Tac-Toe with him. One of us has to pay attention because we can depend on Lily to cover us.

“What led to the Goblin Rebellion of 1612?” I quiz James.

He taps his chin with a quill, thinking up an answer. After it takes longer than it should, I lean back in my chair with a raised brow. Unable to withhold my amusement, I snicker at my struggling friend. He’s toast, this exam is going to wreck his marks.

He whines, reaching across the table to gently grab my arm pleadingly. “Help me!”

I giggle, sliding my book toward him. “Read up. You’re going to need it!”

He whines some more, childishly pouting. “But I hate reading,” he groans, tossing his head back. As an idea pops into his head, he perks up, “summarize it for me?”

I open my mouth to protest, unsure if I’ll do it justice, but James cuts me off eagerly.

“I’ll make it up to you!” He insists. “I’ll… I’ll…” he struggles to think up compensation. Then, he snaps his fingers, pointing at me as another apparently brilliant thought crosses his mind. “I’ll take you to Hogsmeade this weekend!”

“See! You already got a part of it,” I point out, ignoring his silly offer as I bring my textbook back to me considering he’s clearly not going to use it. “Hogsmeade is where the rebellion occurred! Tell me more.”

He rolls his eyes at my seriousness, a hint of a smirk on the edge of his lips. Leaning forward, he crosses his arms on the table between us. “I’m serious Y/N,” he whispers so Professor Pince doesn’t shush us. “Let’s go to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

Our group has never missed a Hogsmeade weekend. Any excuse to mess around drunk off firewhiskey and butterbeer is our preferred free time activity. Except for Lily and Remus, they play the parents.

“James… everyone is going there this weekend…” I state a matter-of-factly with amusement before turning to write down in my notebook.

“No, I mean….” he pauses, licking his lips nervously as he avoids my eyes. Evidently, he’s unsure of his words.

I place my quill down, his hesitation earning my attention. It’s not like James to sound so anxious. What is wrong with everyone today? Did someone pour a spell in their pumpkin juice at breakfast today? It was probably a short term spell from Malfoy or Snape, a payback prank. I guess it’s a good thing I slept in.

“James,” I place my hand on his comfortingly. His eyes break away from the space between us and meet mine with amazement. “It’s okay,” I laugh softly. “You can say anything to me, safe space here.” I wave my finger in a circle to gesture to our table.

He laughs, nodding his head in understanding. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right…. I know. You’ve always been really easy to talk to Y/N. Uh, which is somewhat why I wanted to… um… ask you to Hogsmeade… You know, to go to Hogsmeade with me,” he stammers nervously, combing his fingers through his hair with his free hand.

“Go with you as you go on your date?” I seek to clarify, still kind of lost in translation.

He narrows his eyes, somewhat confused himself. “Yes…” he answers, making it sound more like a question.

I nod at a steady pace, processing his words. Okay, well, this day has been anything but average. It’s not even supper time and already two Marauders have suddenly expressed interest in me. One minute, we’re all just friends and the next two of the most infamous playboys at Hogwarts are claiming to have feelings for me. I swear to Godrick Gryffindor if Peter or Remus stop me in the hall to confess their love I’m packing my things and going into hiding. Plus, I could’ve sworn James was head over heels in love with Lily? He told me so multiple times. Whenever he gets drunk we have a heart-to-heart about it. He asks me for advice and I assure him to be himself. Could his feelings have changed without me noticing? It’s hard to believe, but not impossible I suppose.

Not wanting to hurt him, I accept the offer, “Yeah, yeah sounds good.”

He smiles brightly, enthused by my answer. “Okay, um yeah, cool!”

What harm could it do? I’m sure nothing will come from it anyway, James is pretty filthy with his affections. He’s been claiming to be in love with Lily since First Year but has dated girls since them. I’m sure I would even call it dating, they were more like flings here and there. I suspect James might just be confused or annoyed with Lily not reciprocating his affections, so he’s looking to me for some guidance. I don’t mind helping my friend figure out what he wants, as long as he doesn’t act irrationally.

One problem though, how is Sirius going to react? We aren’t exactly together, but we can’t ignore what occurred at the lake today. He’ll be with us at Hogsmeade, we always go together as a group. I hold the necklace that Sirius gave me between my fingers without James noticing. What a confusing chain of events. I’m not sure what to think. I’m not sure what either of their intentions is. I never thought any of this would ever happen. I wonder if Sirius’s outburst during lunch has something to do with James’s offer? The two seemed rather harsh with each other. James clearly knew that Sirius and I were down at the lake considering he was next to Sirius in Potions and likely read the correspondence as Marlene did. My next thoughts are: how much does he know? Does he know what Sirius said? Does he know what he gave me? If so, does that have anything to do with him asking me to Hogsmeade? Is it all a competition with him? I’m utterly lost and all I can do is see how it pans out. I don’t want to shout accusations and end up hurting someone by accident. It’s odd, I’m both looking forward to this weekend and somewhat dreading it.

James and I decide to skip dinner, staying at the library to cram for History after James gets a sudden urge to study. James finishes telling me a humorous story about his family’s vacation many years ago when we returned to the tower after sundown.

“My dad was soaked-” He describes with amusement.

“Password?” The Fat Lady interrupts as we approach.

“magia enim quisque est,” James answers, not missing a beat. He doesn’t even glance at the portrait. The Fat Lady swings open, revealing the passageway as James continues his story. “I thought my mom was going to topple over, she was laughing so hard!”

I cover my mouth, laughing at James’s words. I’ve never had the privilege of meeting the Potters like some of the others. They sound like really fun from what I’ve heard from James and Sirius.

Our friends are gathered in front of the fire. The fire is the main source of light in the room other than some weak candlesticks on the walls. Peter and Remus in opposite armchairs, with Lily sitting on the floor resting against Remus’s seat. Marlene is sitting on the floor directly in front of the fireplace, playing cards with Lily on the coffee table. Sirius sits at the far end of the couch, appearing to be venting to Remus. Everyone’s attention turns us when they hear us appearing in the Common Room. James and I stop, our shared laughter settling down as we peer at our friends.

“You two were busy,” Marlene remarks with a smirk as she lays down a card on the table.

“Yeah, you missed dinner,” Peter reminds us, sounding rather distressed by the idea.

“Eh,” James shrugs, not too fazed by the matter. He presses his hand to my back, guiding me to sit on the couch with him.

I follow his lead, not physically reacting to the presence of his hand through my mind is racing.

“We can go grab something from the kitchens later,” he adds with a wink as grabs my waist to cross in front of me and sit in the middle, between me and Sirius.

I blush, not used to receiving so much attention from James. I mean, I’ve known him since we were eleven so I’ve been the receiver of his relentless flirtatious personality, but now I’m starting to think it’s not unintentional. I ease down on the cushion, crisscrossing my legs comfortably.

“You’re not allowed to do that,” Remus warns, knowing well enough that James won’t listen. “Unless you want another months’ detention.”

James casually rests his arm on my leg as if he’s done it a thousand times before. Lily and Marlene silently look up from their cards, taking note of the action. They look between me and James’s arm as his thumb rubs against my knee. I share their looks of astonishment without the boys noticing as they’re too distracted by James and Remus going back and forth. I have no doubt this will be the hot topic when we head to bed. I exhale deeply, subconsciously picking at my nails, a nervous habit.

“Did you hear what happened to that First Year in Herbology?” Lily is quick to change the subject. “Apparently a Slytherin boy fainted!”

“Isn’t there a kid who faints every year on Mandrake day?” Marlene laughs, returning to their card game.

“Not surprised it was a Slytherin,” James remarks mockingly with a chuckle. “They’re such pansies.”

I frown at James’s words, my eyes focused on my lap. I have friends in Slytherin, they’re decent people. Granted, their house has a bad reputation, but that doesn’t mean they’re all bad. I have family members who were in Slytherin, they’re not evil or anything. Shoot, I could’ve been a Slytherin, the Sorting Hat debated on it. It saw motivation and cunningness in me, in fact, it nearly outweighed my Gryffindor qualities.

“Forget that!” Peter nearly bursts with excitement in his chair next to me. “Did you hear about Snape?!”

“Peter!” Lily snaps uncharacteristically at the boy.

James and I jump slightly at the rudeness of Lily’s outburst, my hand gripping his on my knee instinctively. James glances down at my hand and I swiftly remove it. Peter cowers into his chair as though he was just reprimanded by a parent. My eyes flicker between the two, brows high like everyone else’s, except for James who continues to look at me admiringly.

“What happened?” Sirius finally speaks, grumbling disinterestedly. Did he just miss Lily snapping? After that, he still has the guts to ask what happened? That’s bold.

Lily glares at the jet black-haired boy. I lean forward peering in front of James to see Sirius’s reaction. He appears unfazed, slouching into the cushion beside James. His features are sharp, covered with evident frustration and annoyance.

On that note, I think I’m going to excuse myself before things get too heated. Frankly, I don’t really care what happened with Snape. The boys obsess over picking on him and Lily worries for her childhood friend. Though I don’t condone bullying, I don’t care to get involved. I’m civil with both parties.

“I’m going to head to bed,” I announce, already moving to stand up.

Protests erupt amongst the group, each of them talking over each other. The only silent parties are James and Sirius. Sirius hadn’t reacted, starring ahead at the fire with a frown.

James peers up at me with disappointed eyes, waiting for silence. “But I thought we were going to sneak down to the kitchens?” He pouts, holding my hand loosely.

“And risk getting a detention?” I chuckle at the boy.

“That didn’t seem to stop you this afternoon,” Sirius mumbles bitterly under his breath, not having the decency to look at me in the eye as does.

James looks over his shoulder at his best friend. In unison, our friends begin to talk over each other again, this time exchanging their farewells and excuses for heading to bed. I’ve never seen Lily shove cards into their box so urgently before. I thought Remus was going to trip over himself, he leaped up so quickly from his seat. Now, the three of us are left alone in the Common Room. Sirius hasn’t even flinched once despite the chaos that just occurred around him. His eyes remain in narrow slits as they focus ahead on the burning fire. James burns holes into his friend, waiting for some sort of reaction. His hand continues to hold mine, it’s the only reason I’m still here. I would’ve safely run off with the others given the chance. I sort of feel like I’m rudely watching a private moment between best friends. Do I say something? In my defense, I wanted to leave before everyone else did.

Building up the courage to break the silence, I slip my hand from James’s and stutter, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna go.” Hopefully, that won’t make either of them burst or something. Urgently, I pick up my books off the side table next to the couch.

James and Sirius both snap their heads in my direction. Okay, not what I had hoped. I freeze, unsure of what to do or say. I have two pairs of eyes pouring into me. One pair black, the other hazel. I press my books to my chest nervously.

Suddenly, the sound of the Fat Lady opening interrupts us. Professor McGonagall appears from the dark archway in her robe and cap. Her distraught expression makes my heart sink. James and Sirius both fly up from their seated positions behind me, sharing in my worry. Already predicting what this may be about, I’m too afraid to move.

__________________________________

Tags: @hannah220506 @devilstradegy

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imperiuswrecked · 3 years

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To me, it doesn’t make sense to make Magneto the main villain because it has been done so much before and it would connect it so much to the Fox Films. Also I think there is a GREAT laziness in writing Magneto especially in films. He generally didn’t want to kill all humans, subjugate them yes because he doesn’t trust them. Which isn’t a ‘good guy’ move in itself and he slips in and out of.

He legit murdered genocide I think when he was going to kill all humans. Like no.

I also think that the average cinema goer likes Magneto too much… or maybe that is me. It would also require them to recast the most famous faces of the franchises?

Like is anyone going to care if they recast Jean, Scott, Iceman, Rogue, Kitty, Beast even Mystique but Magneto? I don’t know. I have long been a fan of an actual Jewish actor playing Magneto but following Ian McKellan would be difficult for the casual fans to accept. I don’t think Fassbender left such an amazing impression.

Even my most average MCU fans friends (and god they love the MCU 😤 but I see past it) still talk about how much they want to see a Magneto solo film.

To me I would put the focus on their reveal and sentinels. Then again I thought they’ll go through Krakoa stuff. Like it turns out the mutants have been living on this Island etc

With the ‘simpler times’ comment I have to for the sake of my sanity have to think that it was because Pietro knew where he was. Things were clear to him, as much as it hurt he had his sister. The following trauma had not occurred. Again I don’t think this is true but I am trying to reason bad writing. He didn’t doubt his morality but was indebted and controlled. Shitty actions were out of his control.

I don’t read Avengers so I didn’t know he was shelved for so long.

I think the Trial of Magneto is trying to ride on the coattails of Wandavision because even though she’s not a mutant a lot of the internet was wanting Magneto to show up. So what is the best way to get those fans who wanted to see that? Set up a family comic book where they establish the family again because I guess the MCU fans heard they’ve changed their background and themselves didn’t like it.

I see the Trial of Magneto as something poorly thought out as they saw what the audience was interested in. The timeline kind of clashes uncomfortably with Inferno. Which makes me think it was wedged in there to ride the Wandavision train and undo the retcon on the side of the main storyline.

Thank you for reading my essay/rant

Ok so I'm going to first say you have a lot of great thoughts and great on picking up the whole forced feeling. You are right, it does feel wedged in there and it does feel forced because that's exactly what Marvel did.

The Trial of Magneto was supposed to be an X-Factor plot, it was Leah Williams next arc, here's an article link talking about her podcast: link (yes I know it's bleeding cool but I don't have time to listen to the podcast)

Leah Williams tells us that X-Factor was canceled because Leah's pitch for the Magneto/Wanda story for X-Factor, now called Trial Of Magneto, became such a popular pitch at Marvel but they thought the reader numbers for X-Factor wasn't big enough for this story, so they wanted it as a separate comic. And canceled X-Factor #10 rather than seeing it run as originally planned, with the Trial beginning in X-Factor #15. Williams says she only learned about the cancellation of X-Factor when she was writing #9, so as she had to finish the series quickly, squeezing six issues worth of story into those last two issues, calling it "cramped and rushed".

So I'm not a fan of Leah but the way Marvel treats it's writers has always been terrible so this cancellation doesn't surprise me. Could this be about W*ndaVision? It's likely, but it's more likely this has to do with Hickman bowing out. It's no secret literally everyone hated the retcon and I always knew it would be undone but I didn't think it would take 6 years but here we are.

Hickman leaving is a bigger thing, he stated in an interview ( link ) that he had planned Krakoa and X-Men to be a 3 arc story, and he wasn't allowed to move onto the 2nd arc because the clowns at Marvel liked the idea of Krakoa too much and I'm so mad because that's exactly the kinda behavior that annoys me with the fans, them thinking Krakoa is just a fun playground for the mutants to mess around with.

"Oh, plans have changed entirely," Hickman says. "When I pitched the X-Men story I wanted to do, I pitched a very big, very broad, three-act, three-event narrative, the first of which was House of X. And while this loosely worked as a three-year plan, I told Marvel upfront that I honestly had no idea how long the first part would last because there were a lot of interesting ideas that I had seeded that other creators would want to play with, and so, we left this rather open-ended. I was also pretty clear with all the writers that came into the office what the initial, three-act plan was so no one would be surprised when it was time for the line to pivot." Hickman continues, "However, I also knew that I was cooking with dynamite, and it was very possible that what I had written in House of X, and the ideas contained within, was not actually the first act of a three-act story, but something that resonated more deeply and worked more like Giant-Size X-Men, where it would represent a paradigm shift in the entire X-Men line for a prolonged period of time. So, during the pandemic, when the time came for me to start pointing things toward writing the second-act event, I asked everyone if they were ready for me to do that, and to a man, everyone wanted to stay in the first act. It was really interesting, because I appreciated that House of X resonated with them to the extent that they didn't want it to end, but the reality was that I knew I would be leaving the line early."

I'm so MAD because the thing I was predicting, that Hickman would have it come crashing down and everything would be revealed to be terrible and Mutant Death Sex Cult Island wasn't a paradise is never going to happen because the fucking CLOWNS at Marvel don't want him to move past it. I may have my personal gripes about some of Hickman's writing but we can't deny the man wrote one of the best if only the best Marvel Event with Fantastic Four/Avengers/Secret War.

As for the simpler times comment, like I have my theories that I wrote out here, and that's what I think is most likely but I do think Pietro's life has never been easy or simple once his adoptive parents died. Pietro could be drinking to a time before the Brotherhood.

I would love for a Jewish actor to play Magneto and any other characters who are Jewish. I would love for a Jewish writer to be able to write them too. However Ian's performance literally set him in the minds of the people as Magneto, not even Fassbender's bleh one note Magneto could compare. Imo the only reason people liked the younger Magneto was because he was young, handsome (? ig idk i dont simp for him) and they could ship him with young professor X (cowards. where is the old man ship???) But I feel like a new actor could definitely fill the role if they are Jewish and the writing was good.

Magneto's writing in comics... well I just wish we could have a Jewish writer for him. There's some great stuff for him but I feel like characters like him and Doom could be written better by non white/american writers.

Although by today's standards the og X-Men trilogy doesn't hold up I will defend the first two movies with my life simply because after Blade these movies opened up the idea that a good serious, non campy version where characters called Magneto and Cyclops were taken seriously. X2 in my mind was the definitive X-Men movie. Was it totally comic accurate? No, but it doesn't do what the MCU does, it doesn't treat the watcher like they need to have their hand held through all the military propaganda and "hints to the comics". Also side note; the reason no one cared about any of the other X-Men being recast is because all through most of the X-Men movies the focal story point has been Professor X vs Magneto. If they really want people to care about those characters/actors then we would need stories that focused on them. Not like how Storm barely had any character growth or plot in the og X-Men and even young Ororo got mishandled by the script. This is why I feel we should have "origin movies" for the X-Men that don't do what Wolverine Origins did and try to make a whole new cast but instead should use the stories as they are. If it was Kurt's story then we would see him join the X-Men, and have the other actors revolve around that. Same with each of the others, the X-Men work best when they are working off each other and each given enough screen/page time to shine. Unfortunately we all have our favorites, even movies and writers, so those are who are going to be pushed for fans to love.

Thank you for your long rant and sorry for my own long rant/reply.

#xmen #x men #comic talk #xmcu #magneto #erik lensherr #imp answers

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despiteherself · 3 years

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King Julien?

THIS IS SO LONG RIP

King Julien my beloved…….

Also sorry this took me so long omgggg

* favorite thing about them

everything <3

okay, so this comes as no surprise to literally anyone who’s heard me talk about kj but his big heart. i absolutely adore that so much of his story is about how his big heart fumbling around saves the day, even when the story is about his own hubris. Whether it was intentional or not ahkj ended up being a powerful story about a kind-hearted party animal with an inherited legacy of violence and mistreatment heal from his own trauma with the love for his people. yes! it was messy and it is a kids show so it had a lot of continuity issues and like…. toilet humour, but underneath it was so tender. kj’s story of wanting to be king for perks, to feeling like he didn’t deserve to be the one true king but managing to unite the entirety of the kingdoms Madagascar under his love as a symbol was so…….. kj’s big heart saves the day <3

even in the movies, where he is classist and bigheaded he still manages to do it? melman is brave because of kj’s empathy for a talking head, and the circus goes back to the Central Park zoo to help the zoosters bc of kj’s love. his line about “it doesn’t matter what you smell like, or what i smell like, it matters what we smell like together.” is what prompts everyone to forgive the lies.

* least favorite thing about them

nothing he’s perfect <3

I don’t know how to feel about season 5 after exiled. I know it must have been hard trying to tie everything up, going back to the joke based continuity and toilet humour after the emotional sucker punch of exiled. it just. feels like it rehashes old plots but makes them more complex and I think if it hadn’t been after exiled I wouldn’t feel so…. Unsure. kj in this, starts off desperately trying to prove himself as king (again) for good reason, but then seems to lose himself in petty ways he out grow and serious things reveled through jokes get left behind to make more jokes and it just feels…… kj grew into being a good leader and i wish it wasn’t forgotten again. This isn’t rlly about him, more the writing, and the plot problem - episodic vs long form story telling is a hard one, but it’s what I dislike. Let kj have growth bc he was given some and it’s hard to see it’s gone when we know it’s possible.

* favorite line

Oh this is hard :/

I like whenever he does his little pep talks. Or when he says he loves his kingdom. Those are fun & nonsensical and yet, an encapsulation of why he’s such a good ruler. he does understand his people, in a way the juliens before him didn’t, because he was never supposed to be one of them, and left to his own devices with his big sensitive heart made a connection that would outlast even the cruelest of julien kings. julien wants to be loved so badly, and he makes a mess of it, but he holds together the cracks of the lemurs before him, hurt by others the way he was and together they build something worthwhile.

“think of it as me sandwich, stuffed with me.

Pretty good right?” Bc that’s one of the funniest scenes

* brOTP

royal quartet <3

kj and literally everyone. i love him being friends and loving towards just about everyone

* OTP

hmmmmmmmmm

kj x his kingdom as a wholistic statement <3 i think married to his kingdom is what’s most satisfying for me. Kj who makes the specific choice to focus on his kingdom instead of personal goals - and despite loving children so much, making the specific choice to end the julien line (it’s reign of terror) with him. Ahhhhhhhh that would be so satisfying narratively.

also, not to bring this up again but i do think it would be beneficial to both their characters of like kj and ted had a idk passionate summer fling and are now each other’s wingmen post divorce. i say again but i barely think I’ve hinted at it so you know, whatever. i just think their dynamic is SO interesting, and the one scene in exiled where Ted saves everyone is just……. ah, perfect. I wish we got a deeper exploration of Ted & Dorothy, and Ted & his rejection by julien at lemur school & losing prom king & his obsessed with being needed/wanted.

I have no issues with any of the pairings that happened lmao, but obv most of them are exes and i think they’re fun that way. Karen, rob, crimson, karl probably, idk, i guess skipper? i don’t think they date bc skipper is homophobic <3

* nOTP

There’s just way too much family symbolism & literally having clover and Maurice ACTUALLY taking his parents place for me to be anything but squicked by kj/either of them/both of them. no shade to anyone who does, but it just makes me feel :////// I also just love their dynamic as friends, and whilst exploring toxicity in relationships can be interesting, i rlly think that if the three of them became more dependent on each other it would just stunt them all. they do better as a unit in relation to everyone in the kingdom.

I didn’t include mort in the family part even tho he pretends to be kj’s son once but he’s included in that. people who say royal trio over royal quartet break my heart, mort is equally important in this dynamic and also. notp thanks

aslo don’t care for pancho :/ sorry pancho lovers <3 it’s just i don’t think he’s half as important as anyone makes him out to be and i don’t think he and kj rlly have that much chemistry, especially not compared to like his interactions with pretty much every single adult lemur. it’s whatever! ppl have fun with it, i just personally don’t see why you’d pick it over literally any of the other side but main-ish characters. i actually think, if anything, kj is more dismissive towards pancho than a lot of characters, especially considering he’s so flirty. and no amount of the Manchurian candidate can make up for that, especially when it was about family again.

ok now that I’ve alienated like 98% of the ahkj fandom it’s okay it’s not like super notp it’s just i don’t care for it <3

* random headcanon

kj starts watching todd’s unboxing videos one day when he’s relaxing, after he’s calmed down about the captain booty butt toy being stolen, like 3am channel surfing and like gets rlly into the concept bc like surprise toys out of box is peak adhd excitement. he wants to start his own channel and in his excitement gets everyone to watch his stuff which doesn’t have the care or knowledge (bc the excitement for kj is the surprise - can relate) that Todd’s has and Todd’s show gets canceled. he’s obv pretty sad bc that was Todd’s only hobby outside of doing what his mum makes him do & he gets rlly upset. eventually, somehow, kj stumbles upon Todd being sad and they have a convo and kj realises that he stole Todd’s hobby & that actually, the hovering, full attention of Tammy is suffocating and not something kj should long for. I rlly want Todd & kj to have an end to their “rivalry”. They make up, kj retires his unboxing channel and promos Todd’s, Todd gets to hang out in the plane as a friend to get away from his family for a while, kj learns the value of space.

* unpopular opinion

again… are there unpopular kj opinions???

i just think he should have had the proper number of rings on his tail. when i look at it I’m like, sir please give him the correct number it hurts me to see like 7 of each colour and i think it ends in a white tip which >:/ which is a silly thing to find annoying

#anonymous #ask #ask meme #long post #king Julien #dot post #ahkj #ohhhh myyyy goddd. me posting this scared like #wowwwwwwww those ships I dislike i so popular in fandom djekosjdkdkslmdofkf guys lads no shade

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

here we go, last fic of the year! It’s Lan Sizhui/Jin Ling, a/b/o, set in the same universe as Petrichor, but can be read as a stand alone :)

Someday, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi are going to get married.

It is not something that anybody really talks about, and more an accepted fact of life. They have been friends for as long as they can remember, they are both in good position for being sect leader after Lan Xichen, they work well as a team. At fifteen, Lan Sizhui presented as an alpha. Some months later, Lan Jingyi surprised everyone by presenting as an omega, and that settled things. People around them started talking about them as an established couple in spite of their youth, because they’d never have been so close if they were not somehow fated, right?

Neither of them minds. Not really. It’s convenient for everyone after all.

“It’s not like I’m what anyone wants in an omega,” Lan Jingyi points out when, one day, Lan Sizhui asks him if he’s really okay with that. “Aside from you, I’ve never met an alpha I didn’t want to punch in the face after five minutes. Even betas I can barely stand.”

“Hanguang-Jun too?”

“Hanguang-Jun is way above everyone else, beta or alpha or anything,” Lan Jingyi protests. “I guess I could marry him, if he wanted…”

Grimacing at the thought, Lan Sizhui elbows his friend in the ribs, but that only makes him laugh.

“I’d become your new dad,” Lan Jingyi insists with starry eyes. “Would you call me dad, daddy, or father?”

Lan Sizhui rolls his eyes. He should have known that his friend wouldn’t take the conversation seriously. Still, he feels a little better about the situation. Lan Jingyi isn’t without his faults, but he isn’t one to bottle up his emotions. If he really minded that everyone assumes they’re an item, he would have jumped on the chance to say so.

That’s good enough for Lan Sizhui. He doesn’t want romance. He’s seen what he did to his father, to his uncle, leaving one branded by shame and the other broken for years. It just doesn’t feel worth the trouble. What Lan Jingyi and him have isn’t the stuff of great stories, sure, but it’s stable and it's safe. Security is far more important than something as ridiculous as love.

When Lan Sizhui is nineteen, there starts being talk of making their engagement into something formal. Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren ask them to give it serious consideration. They are both orphans, so there is no direct pressure put on them, but Lan Sizhui gets the impression that Lan Qiren at least is particularly in favour of the match. Neither of his nephews has had children, and they're unlikely to ever do, between Lan Wangji's character and Lan Xichen's delicate situation. Lan Sizhui isn't a Lan by blood, but he is well liked by juniors and elders alike. Lan Jingyi doesn't have that diplomacy, but he is a cousin to the Lan jades. If they get together, it would avoid the risk of disputes when the time comes to choose a new sect leader: they can just rule conjointly and leave it at that. Lan Xichen is less insistent than his uncle, and says it's important they choose carefully. It's clear, though, that he doesn't disagree with Lan Qiren's position.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji doesn’t like this.

He doesn’t say so, because he wants Lan Sizhui to make his own choices in life, and he will support his son through anything as long as it is not endangering his life. Still, he radiates disapproval when Lan Sizhui reports on that conversation with his uncle and great-uncle.

Most people wouldn’t guess, but Lan Wangji is a romantic at heart.

Lan Sizhui isn’t.

Well. He tries hard not to be.

But now that this engagement business is turning into something serious, he’s a little less sure about it.

It is nice, of course, to know exactly what the future holds. There's comfort in that. Lan Sizhui likes knowing what to expect, he likes safety, he likes knowing that tomorrow will be very much like today.

And he loves Lan Jingyi of course. They’ve been friends for years, and they know each other better than anyone else. But it’s not the sort of love that makes them want to kiss and get in bed together. He’s sure of that, because they’ve tried kissing once or twice, to see how that’d feel, and it was just weird. Lan Jingyi's smell, like grass freshly cut and summer warmth, doesn't evoke any strong desire in him. That's a problem because if they get married, they’ll have to make love. And it’s not that Lan Jingyi is ugly or misshapen or anything, but the idea doesn’t sit right. All Lan Sizhui can hope for is that when they’re bonded, once his ruts and Lan Jingyi’s heats coincide, it’ll sort itself out.

(that still leaves the issue of that initial bonding, but if Lan Sizhui doesn’t think about it, then it’s not an issue)

It’s a comfort of sorts when the morning after they talked to Lan Qiren, Lan Jingyi looks as awkward about the situation as Lan Sizhui feels.

“Are we really doing this?” Lan Jingyi whispers to him, even though they’re in class and really shouldn’t be talking at all, least of all about something like that.

“If you want,” Lan Sizhui replies, his voice as low as possible to avoid attracting Lan Qiren’s attention. “We still have time to decide.”

“Yeah, right. I mean, it could be worse, right? We get along fine, we know that already.”

It is a blessing indeed. Most people in their position would just be dumped into an arranged marriage, and consider themselves lucky to not end up with someone they despise.

Still, Lan Sizhui is glad that they don’t have to give an answer right away.

When they meet Jin Ling on Dafan Mountain, Lan Sizhui and Lan Jingyi immediately agree that he is a bit of a spoiled brat.

It’s no surprise of course. The only heir to a sect like Lanling Jin, with also some rights over Yunmeng Jiang? It would have taken the world’s best parents to prevent that boy from being a little rotten, and as everyone knows well, Jin Ling doesn’t have parents.

In truth, Lan Sizhui feels a little sorry for him, not least of all because that boy is related to Jiang Wanyin, and Lan Sizhui pities anyone who must deal with that man on a regular basis. Only a truly awful person could be so disliked by Lan Wangji.

It’s also quickly apparent that Jin Ling is, for lack of a better term, a little awkward. He reacts to Lan Jingyi’s light teasing as if he was being insulted (in fairness, Lan Jingyi sometimes walks a fine line between the two, and he’s a little on edge after that business in Mo village) and takes himself far too seriously. He is also impossibly stubborn, and surprisingly reckless for someone so aware of his own self-importance.

“What a brat that was,” Lan Jingyi complains on the way back to Cloud Recesses. “No need to question what he’ll present as, he’s got alpha written all over his face.”

“No gossiping,” Lan Sizhui reminds him, his eyes darting toward Lan Wangji who, thankfully, pays them no mind. All his attention is on that lunatic he has decided to protect from Jiang Wanyin. “And you can’t go guessing at people’s fate like that. Sect leader Lan doesn’t look like an omega, does he? You just never know until it’s there.”

Lan Jingyi takes a moment to consider that.

“He is spoiled and prissy enough that he could be an omega,” he concedes, as if that’s the point Lan Sizhui was trying to make. “Still, I’m betting on alpha, and a very annoying one at that. I hope we never have to see him again.”

“Sect Leader Jin has no child of his own, so Jin Rulan is his heir. Of course we’re going to see him again.”

The face Lan Jingyi makes at the news is such that Lan Sizhui can’t help laughing a little too loud. Lan Wangji turns to look at him, curious more than scolding. That odd man on the donkey, Mo Xuanyu, also looks at them as if he wants to join in the fun, but dares not because of Lan Wangji keeping a close eye on him.

It’s funny, Lan Sizhui thinks. His father doesn’t usually care much about people. He likes the juniors, especially all the ones whose education he had a part in, but people he meets when they’re already adults, or people close to his age… if at all possible, Lan Wangji just ignores them. Maybe he feels sorry for Mo Xuanyu, who seems to have had a rough life? Or maybe it’s something else. Mo Xuanyu has an eccentric personality, but Lan Sizhui too can’t help feeling a certain sympathy for this very odd omega.

They meet Jin Ling again far sooner than Lan Sizhui would have expected, and if betting weren't forbidden, Lan Jingyi would have won. In the short time since they saw him, Jin Ling has presented as an alpha.

It's no surprise, of course. Although there are exceptions, people born within the main branch of a clan are almost always alphas, at least for the first few children. Aside from sect leader Lan who is an omega and sect leader Nie who is a beta, even within the smallest sects there's hardly any ruler that's not an alpha.

It does make a complicated situation a little worse. Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi and a group of juniors were on a trip to a Night Hunt when they started being led astray by dead cats and mysteries. They then met juniors from other sects, as well as Jin Ling, travelling alone, who immediately tries to be in charge. Lan Sizhui calmly puts an end to that. It's not unusual for a young alpha, especially one still getting used to changes in their body. He can't even control his smell at all, sweet and flowery with a hint of spice which Lan Jingyi complains is making him nauseous.

It's all normal, of course. Lan Sizhui too had a brief phase where he tested everyone's patience. So for Jin Ling who is already hot-headed and proud…

To make it worse, Lan Jingyi won't stop arguing with Jin Ling. They can't go five minutes without getting into a fight of some sort. They snap at each other about the road to take, the inn to stay at, how loud Jin Ling's dog barks, Mo Xuanyu's donkey, whether to warn their respective sects or not… If a disagreement can be had, they will have it.

At first, Lan Sizhui tries to intervene. Someone has to make sure that these two don't throttle each other. He knows that Lan Jingyi is no delicate flower and can take anyone in a fight, but he still has a responsibility as the oldest alpha present, so he gently puts Jin Ling in his place when needed. Surprisingly, Jin Ling usually backs off pretty easily once Lan Sizhui gets involved in a dispute. Lan Sizhui really expected that they would come to blows at least once. That too would be normal, especially since Jin Ling is obviously aching for a chance to prove himself, but it never happens.

After a few days, Lan Sizhui doesn't bother stopping the fights anymore. Jin Ling shouts a lot and plays tough, but he never displays any sign of real aggression towards anyone. If anything he seems to have fun when Lan Jingyi and him argue with each other, and the opposite is just as true.

Maybe that's just how Jin Ling plays, Lan Sizhui figures. He really is a very awkward boy after all. Already back on Dafan Mountain he was so brash and haughty with everyone. He was also alone back then, with only his uncle and other adults around him. Now too, he is the only one who doesn't have anyone from his clan with him. He has his dog, sure, but that's not the same.

"Be nice to him," Lan Sizhui tells Lan Jingyi after yet another dispute, one where he had to intervene for the first time in a while. "I don't think he has a lot of friends."

"You bet he doesn't. He treated Ouyang Zizhen like dirt just because he's a beta! Who'd want to be friends with someone like that? He could be tolerable if he just stopped acting like such a little mistress, but I guess that's too much to ask. Between the two of us, you wouldn't think I'm the omega."

It's a little unkind to both boys, but part of Sizhui almost agrees. Lan Jingyi has never really behaved the way people expect an omega to do, and as for Jin Ling… with his pretty, boyish face, his elegant flowery smell, and the way he always backs off the instant Lan Sizhui gets involved in a fight, he could somewhat feel like an omega.

Except he only behaves like that with Lan Sizhui. With everyone else, he pushes for dominance as much as he can, and he's so stubborn, from a sect so powerful, that even older alphas in their group have started bowing to him.

It's weird, really. Lan Sizhui doesn't know what to make of it.

"He'll never learn to play nice if you don't show him how," Lan Sizhui says after some thought. "Don't think I haven't noticed you're the one starting half those fights. If you don't like him, just stay away. It's wrong to pick fights without reasons."

Lan Jingyi shrugs, which is against the rules because it is insolent.

“He likes it when I bother him,” Lan Jingyi boldly accuses. “Being half raised by someone like Jiang Cheng…”

“Jiang Wanyin.”

“Raised by someone like Jiang Wanyin in a place like Lotus Piers, that little mistress must think shouting at people is how you behave around others. Don’t you remember how his uncle was on Dafan mountain? Scolding him and telling him to succeed at his hunt or die trying, and then coming to save him at the first sign of trouble… no wonder the little mistress is so annoying, he learned from the best.”

That had struck Lan Sizhui as well, mostly because of the risks Jin Ling had been willing to take after being shouted at. As if he really feared that his uncle wouldn’t let him come home again if he couldn’t kill the monster. He can’t imagine being uncertain of his family’s love like that. Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, and even Lan Qiren would never, ever threaten Lan Sizhui in such a manner, and even if they did he would know better than to take the words literally.

He really feels sorry for that boy.

“Just try to be nicer,” he insists. “Teach by example. He’ll be sect leader someday, we really shouldn’t be antagonising him this way.”

The sect leader argument works. It usually does. Lan Jingyi promises to make an effort.

There’s no argument until early afternoon the next day and in fairness to Lan Jingyi, that does count as progress.

Yi-City is not a fun place, not by far. There’s thick billowing fog, there’s fierce corpses, half their group gets poisoned, Mo Xuanyu tricks them into eating the worst food they’ve ever tasted by calling it a cure… Lan Sizhui isn’t one to complain (it is against the rules) but he comes very, very close a few times.

When it’s over, he tells himself that it’s a great learning experience. Mo Xuanyu is eccentric, but definitely not mad, and he knows far more about fighting evil than anyone Lan Sizhui has ever met, except maybe Lan Wangji. He is a little… brusque with them, pushing around the group of juniors and clearly delighting in scaring them a little if he feels it’s good for their education. But he is kind as well. He’s trying to hide it, but there’s a certain gentleness in the way Mo Xuanyu behaves around Jin Ling that he doesn’t really have with the rest of them.

To Lan Sizhui’s surprise, the reverse is equally true. Jin Ling grumbles and complains and stomps his foot, but he seems to like Mo Xuanyu and tries to help him whenever the chance arises. Seeing these two interact makes something go a little soft in Lan Sizhui’s chest.

It’s nice when family can reconnect.

After everything that happened in Yi City, Lan Wangji allows them a little celebration. They get to burn colourful paper money and to organise a little party of sorts at an inn, without any adult supervision, too. Lan Wangji and Mo Xuanyu have retired for the night, presumably to discuss everything that has happened and decide on their next move. Lan Sizhui half wishes he could be involved in that conversation, but that’s mostly because he knows he’s supposed to want to be serious and grown up. In truth, being down here in the dining room with the others is a lot more fun.

While all the other juniors mingle together, Lan Jingyi and Lan Sizhui find themselves at a table a little away from the rest, in the company of Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Ling.

“We’re all future Sect Leaders, so it makes sense to sit together, right?” Ouyang Zizhen explains, boldly glossing over the fact that his sect is nowhere near the size of theirs. “And from here, we’ve got a good view of the entire room, so we can make sure that nobody misbehaves.”

“I never realised you were so serious,” Lan Jingyi sneers. “Senior Mo complimented you once, so now you want to be praised by him again?”

“You’re just jealous,” Ouyang Zizhen retorts with a grin. “Who is that man, anyway? He’s not dressed like any sect I know, but for Hanguang-Jun to respect him like this…”

“He’s just some crazy loon,” Lan Jingyi claims. “We met him a while back.”

Then, since Ouyang Zizhen expresses interest, Lan Jingyi starts telling him the whole story of their encounter with Mo Xuanyu. Lan Sizhui, who was there, allows himself to check out from the conversation and eats a little. He is startled when after a few moments, someone drops mushrooms in his bowl.

"Don't like those," Jin Ling huffs. "And you ate yours first."

"They're my favourite," Lan Sizhui admits, a little embarrassed at being caught like that. Being a picky eater and indulging in preferences is frowned upon, but he is only human.

"Can't see why," Jin Ling mutters. "They're slimy and disgusting. Do you want the rest of mine as well?"

It's a testament to how engrossed he is in his conversation with Ouyang Zizhen that Lan Jingyi doesn't pick up on that extremely rude offer. Lan Sizhui almost wants to remark on Jin Ling's manners, but decides against it and just nods. It's obvious the other boy is trying to be nice, and that must be encouraged.

After the mushrooms are unceremoniously dumped in Lan Sizhui's bowl, Jin Ling insistently stares at him while he eats. He looks angry, but Lan Sizhui has figured by now that's just his normal face.

“Earlier… you fought decently,” Jin Ling suddenly says, in a tone that makes it sound like it hurts him to say even that weak of a compliment.

“You did well yourself,” Lan Sizhui replies far more earnestly. Lan Wangji has taught him the importance of encouraging good behaviours rather than to just punish bad ones, and Jin Ling is definitely making an effort here. Besides, he did fight surprisingly well, considering his age. “I hope we can go on more Night Hunts together. Although perhaps next time, let’s go somewhere a little less dangerous, at least until we’re experienced enough.”

Jin Ling's face does something funny, like he's happy and angry at the same time. It's kind of cute, if Lan Sizhui is honest.

"Oh we should all four go Night Hunting together!" Ouyang Zizhen exclaims. "We're friends now, right?"

"That sounds right," Lan Sizhui quickly agrees before Jin Ling has a chance to say something rude. "I know I'd love to spend more time with the two of you. Hopefully next time, we won't be put in mortal danger."

Lan Jingyi laughs at that, but more importantly Jin Ling begrudgingly admits that he too wouldn't be against another inter-sect Night Hunt, even though he looked ready to protest when it was Ouyang Zizhen offering it. It seems he really respects Lan Sizhui's authority as an older alpha though, and that's extremely flattering.

The next time they see each other they are, in fact, in mortal danger again.

It bothers Lan Sizhui less than it should, but only because there's something odd about this cave they're trapped in. Some of the other juniors trapped with them say this is the Burial Mounds, but that's… There's such an air of familiarity to this place, and yet Lan Sizhui knows he's never come here before. Unlike some others in his generation, Lan Wangji has never been one to go on grimly triumphant pilgrimages to those places where the cultivation world rose as one against evil. Lan Sizhui has never seen Yiling, nor even Nightless City.

Still, this cave… it shouldn’t be so bare, nor so silent. There is a wrongness to that silence. Lan Sizhui cannot explain why, but he feels like this place should have more life to it.

He cannot explain either why it seems so right to see Mo Xuanyu… ah, no, Wei wuxian step inside, followed by his Ghost General and Lan Wangji. Something falls in place inside Lan Sizhui’s soul, a certain sensation that things are as they should be. Seeing these three together, in this place… Lan Sizhui half wants to cry, and he can’t explain why.

That unbidden and unexplained surge of emotions must be why he eventually snaps at one of Jin Ling’s cousins. Lan Sizhui feels a little guilty over it, although in fairness, that boy deserves his anger. He insulted Hanguang-Jun, which was unacceptable, and Wei Wuxian which… for some reason was equally unpleasant. And for the entire time they’d been there, Jin Chan had been irritating, somehow unable to say two words without finding a reason to be mean to everyone around him, especially to Jin Ling.

Of course Lan Sizhui lost patience. He doesn’t like when people are cruel to his friends.

That protectiveness becomes a problem a few hours later.

So much has happened in a short span of time, they’ve been rescued, they’ve been attacked, there have been accusations and betrayal, there’s been…

Lan Sizhui feels sick to his bones when the bloodied corpses of dead Wens emerge from a bloody pond to protect Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning, but not in the way he thinks he’s supposed to feel sick. His chest aches looking at those horrifying shapes, and if Lan Jingyi hadn’t stopped him, he would have walked to them because if he could just see their face, if he could take their hands… but he doesn’t get the chance, and they crumble into dust before he can figure out why those dead people felt like they were his, just like Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian do.

Lan Sizhui is still confused when they get down the mountain to climb onto some boats, and exhausted as well. So when Jin Ling starts acting up about Wen Ning, shouting and letting his flowery smell invade the space around him, Lan Sizhui doesn’t react as gracefully as he might have otherwise.

He hates seeing anyone being cruel to Wen Ning who he knows, with the greatest certainty, is a kind soul who only ever means to care for those he loves. Lan Sizhui can’t help wanting to shield him from those who would harm him, because someone has to, and auntie isn’t here to do it anymore.

At the same time, Jin Ling’s pain hurts as well. There’s something unbearable about seeing him break into tears, about the betrayed looks he shoots at Lan Sizhui for daring to side with his father’s murderer.

They’d been getting along so well, they’d made such a great team fighting those fierce corpses earlier, but now it’s all gone. Lan Sizhui wonders if Jin Ling will ever forgive him for standing at the Ghost General’s side, and nearly wants to cry as well when he realises the answer is probably going to be no. He wants to reach out to Jin Ling and explain he doesn’t mean to hurt him, that they can still be friends, that he just can’t let Wen Ning be hurt again.

Before Lan Sizhui can move, Jiang Cheng calls his nephew from another boat, and demands Jin Ling join him. The order is promptly obeyed, Jin Ling turning away without so much as a last look at Lan Sizhui.

Lan Sizhui sits down, and tells himself if his heart and head hurt so bad, it’s only out of exhaustion.

When everything is over, when Jin Guangyao is dead, Lan Sizhui gets to hug the man he once thought of as his father when he was really little, and to see him stand happy at the side of the other man who raised him. Things have been an awful mess, but Lan Sizhui is so happy for both of them.

Nobody deserves happiness more than Lan Wangji, and even though they don’t know each other too well, Lan Sizhui really likes Wei Wuxian a lot.

Leaving those two to explore what the future can bring them, Lan Sizhui instead takes a trip to the past as he decides to accompany Wen Ning.

First of all, they go to the Burial Mounds once again, this time to gather the ashes of their family. Their people, who paid the price of being on the wrong side of a war they didn’t even want. Lan Sizhui still doesn’t really remember much, but he likes hearing Wen Ning telling him stories about them. It makes him feel a little more complete, even though he never particularly felt like anything was missing from his life until that day in Mo manor.

After giving their relatives a proper burial, they head toward Nightless City, or what’s left of it anyway. Here too, Wen Ning has stories to tell, some of which are happier than Lan Sizhui would have expected. It feels wrong to hear that Wen Ruohan wasn’t always a monster, that he was also a man who loved his sons and played with them when they were children. Lan Sizhui was never taught to fear and hate the Yiling Patriarch as much as others of his generation, but he’s heard plenty about the horror committed by Wen Ruohan and struggles to accept that he, too, was only a man after all.

He wonders if that is how Jin Ling feels about Wen Ning.

In fact, Lan Sizhui thinks a lot about Jin Ling as the weeks pass. Whatever judgement he ever felt for the younger alpha regarding his attitude to Wen Ning has melted away now, replaced by deep sympathy. Jin Ling is only fourteen, and Wen Ning did kill his father, so it’s normal that he would feel so angry. Some things cannot be forgiven. And now that Lan Sizhui is a Wen too, he figures that there’s no friendship possible between them, not after how much sorry his family has caused Jin Ling’s.

For some reason, Lan Sizhui realises he is truly upset about this. He had really been looking forward to knowing Jin Ling better, because while Lan Jingyi is an amazing friend, he’s still not an alpha, and there are things he doesn’t understand. Lan Jingyi now has Ouyang Zizhen to chat with, who as a beta is in a good position to lend an ear, but Lan Sizhui doesn’t really have any close alphas in his life.

He really wanted to be close to Jin Ling.

It won’t happen now.

It’s fine.

At least now, he has a family.

Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui have just finished a Night Hunt far into what was once Wen territory when news from the Cloud Recesses reach them. They learn that Lan Xichen, a little while after the events that unfolded in Yunping City, entered seclusion. They learn also that Lan Wangji has married Wei Wuxian, who is rumoured to be with child. Without even needing to talk about it, they immediately start heading back toward Gusu. Lan Sizhui has always thought it would be nice to have a sibling, and now that wish is about to be granted.

By the time they get to the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian is very, very round and very, very upset that he’s being restricted left and right. He’s not allowed a number of his favourite foods, he’s not allowed to experiment with talismans, or to run around, or even to read for too long.

“It is the worst,” Wei Wuxian whines from his bed, surrounded by pillows, nibbling on some snacks that Lan Wangji brought him when he served tea for all of them. “I have never suffered so much in my life. Sizhui, if you marry an omega, you’re forbidden from knocking them up, it is just too awful.”

Lan Sizhui almost snorts in his tea. He glances at Lan Wangji who is watching Wei Wuxian with open adoration, at least for who knows how to read his expressions.

It makes his heart ache that he will probably never know that sort of love. After all, he’s still half engaged to Lan Jingyi as far as he knows. And aside from his best friend, who’d want to marry him? He isn’t sure if he’s still allowed to be part of Gusu Lan. He isn’t sure he still wants to be part of it, now that he knows the truth… and it’s always a little hard for an alpha without resources to marry. Jingyi would, of course, because he’s loyal like that, but Lan Sizhui feels he should insist on dropping whatever understanding existed between them. It would be kinder.

Luckily, when Lan Jingyi comes to see him that evening, he is of a similar opinion.

As the two of them walk toward the rabbits’ clearing to feed them and chat alone, Lan Jingyi starts explaining, very awkwardly, that he won’t be able to marry Lan Sizhui after all.

“It’s Zizhen, you see,” he mumbles when they reach the clearing, his entire face red. “We’ve gone on a few Night Hunts after you left, and we get along really well, and… well, Lan Qiren isn’t too happy about it because he was still hoping on me being Zewu-Jun’s heir rather than Hanguang-Jun’s child, but of course Zizhen is going to inherit his father’s sect someday, it’s so messy when two sect leaders are married! He was still trying to push for that, but then that thing with sect leader Nie and Zewu-Jun happened, and Lan Qiren is seeing what a mess that is, so he’s warming up to the idea of me marrying into Baling Ouyang.”

Kneeling down to hand some cabbage to a particularly bold rabbit, Lan Sizhui shoots his friend a curious look.

“What about Zewu-Jun and sect leader Nie?”

“Oh, right, you wouldn’t have heard!” Lan Jingyi exclaims, startling the poor rabbit and making it run. He sits down next to Lan Sizhui, and grins. “Listen, gossip’s forbidden and all that, but… you’ve heard that Zewu-Jun was marked in his youth, and nobody knows who the alpha is, right? Well, listen to that!”

That, it turns out, is a convoluted tale of romance, deception, and betrayal that spanned over a decade and recently culminated into the recent engagement of Lan Xichen to Nie Huaisang, much to the bafflement of the entire cultivation world.

Lan Sizhui is happy for his uncle, of course. He’s always tried to ignore gossip, but it’s never been possible to avoid all of it, and even within the Cloud Recesses there have always been those who judged their sect leader for that youthful mistake. It’s a little odd to think that the great Zewu-Jun would settle for the Headshaker, but Lan Jingyi swears that Lan Xichen looks more at peace than he had in many years, and so does Lan Sizhui himself when he gets to see his uncle a few days later.

Lan Sizhui is happy, sharing the joy of all these people he loves and who are finding the happiness they want. Even Lan Qiren is probably less angry than he pretends to be. He loves his nephews after all, and he’s always wanted their happiness.

Lan Sizhui is happy, and tries not to feel left out, tries not to resent the fact that while everyone has found happiness in the past year, all he’s gotten is people to mourn, and a fear that he could be killed if anyone found out who he really is.

“I guess we’re going to have a lot of weddings coming,” Lan Sizhui notes, swallowing whatever bitterness he isn’t allowed to feel, choosing instead to grab one of the rabbits and pet it. “I wonder who’s next… do you know if Jin Ling has met any nice omega?”

The idea, for some reasons, makes his heart clench so tight that it nearly makes him sick. Only because then, he’d really be the only one left out, Lan Sizhui figures.

It’s a relief when Lan Jingyi laughs and shakes his head.

“That little mistress? No omega could put up with him!” he mocks. “He is so annoying and stuck up and… but at least, he’s been nice about me and Zizhen. Supportive even! He said if Zizhen’s dad and old man Lan Qiren keep being old farts about this, we can run off to Carp Tower, he’ll take us into Lanling Jin and let us marry. Not that I’d ever want to be a Jin,” Lan Jingyi sniffs disdainfully, “but I appreciate the intention I guess.”

Lan Sizhui lowers his head to hide a smile. Jin Ling isn’t without faults, but at heart he really is a good person, and a good alpha. It really is a shame that there is so much history between their families, because Lan Sizhui really would have liked to…

“He’s been asking about you a lot, you know,” Lan Jingyi remarks, which startles Lan Sizhui.

“Who has?”

“The little mistress of course. We’ve been on a couple Night Hunts with him, and every time he’s asking where you’ve gone, and when you’ll be back, and why you left without saying anything… He really won’t shut up about you. You should write to him and let him know you’re fine, just so he’ll stop pestering me.”

Lan Sizhui’s hand stills in the rabbit's fur, his heart racing in his chest, his face heating up. He can’t figure out why Jin Ling would miss him, they didn’t really get the chance to get close after all, but the idea is… pleasant. Lan Sizhui himself has certainly thought a lot about Jin Ling while he was travelling with Wen Ning. Mostly to mourn this friendship that never had a chance to bloom, but also just because sometimes they passed by a pretty landscape that he wishes he could have shown to the other alpha, or they fought a creature against which Jin Ling’s skill with a bow would have helped, or they passed by some fragrant peonies in bloom, or just because it would have been funny to hear him complain about this and that.

Lan Sizhui wants, very badly, to write to Jin Ling, to see him even. He knows, also, that it would be a bad idea.

If he tells Jin Ling about who he is, and his link to Wen Ning, then he is endangering himself, and risking the good reputation of Lan Wangji who saved him and hid him for years. If he doesn’t tell Jin Ling anything, then it’s a form of deception, since he knows the other alpha would never want his friendship if he knew the truth.

It’s safer, then, to simply stay away.

Still, Lan Sizhui enjoys being missed, more than he probably should.

Lan Sizhui never realised how sad his uncle was, until he went into his room in a Qinghe inn alongside Lan Wangji to help him get ready on the morning of his wedding. It is no secret that the road has been somewhat bumpy for Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang, that even to this day they have their disagreements, but it is just as clear that Lan Xichen is the happiest he's ever been, on that warm morning of late summer.

Lan Sizhui wonders what it feels like to marry, and for love, too, not just for politics.

For some reason, his mind immediately wanders to Jin Ling. He's still young of course, and his position is too fragile, but someday he'll marry someone, a pretty little omega from a good family. And then, Lan Sizhui will be the only one of their little group to remain single, since Lan Jingyi and Ouyang Zizhen have finally obtained the engagement they wanted. They're hoping to marry next spring, if all goes well.

There's no shame in being single, of course, especially for an alpha, but the more Lan Sizhui realises he's unlikely to marry, the sadder he gets. It would be nice to Night Hunt with another person, to find his equal, his perfect match like his fathers did. Someone strong and determined but still kind, someone like…

"I wish I didn't have to bother with that veil," Lan Xichen sighs, eyeing the fabric that Lan Sizhui is holding in clenched fists. "It's ridiculous. He knows what I look like."

"It is traditional," Lan Wangji retorts.

"Did you make Wei Wuxian wear one then?"

Lan Wangji smirks, ever so slightly. "Eloping has advantages."

Lan Xichen freezes, blinking a few times. Like almost all of them, he is still a little upset that his brother married in secret. Still, soon enough he is laughing, and turns to look at Lan Sizhui.

"Some example we are giving you," Lan Xichen remarks, taking the veil from his nephew. "I hope you will be more serious than us when your time comes."

"But father and uncle are very happy," Lan Sizhui notes, allowing himself a moment of insolence on this joyous day. "Surely it gives the impression that breaking rules and ignoring traditions is rather rewarding."

Lan Xichen laughs again as he pins the veil in place, and even Lan Wangji can't help a slight huff, his eyes smiling proudly at his son.

"I suppose we make bad cases for obedience," Lan Xichen admits. "Not all rules are worth following. And you are a clever young man, so I'm sure the path you'll choose will be a righteous one, and that you'll find a partner worthy of you."

Lan Sizhui nods. His thoughts, again, go to Jin Ling. Hopefully he too will find a good person. After so much tragedy in his life, he deserves to have someone in his life who will stick with him and be loyal and honest. That’s the very least Jin Ling deserves.

His veil in place but not yet lowered, Lan Xichen stands, smoothing non-existent creases in his robes, making sure that everything is perfect. He looks nervous, as any spouse-to-be can be expected to be.

Mostly though, he looks happy, and there is no hesitation in his steps when he heads out of the room to go meet his groom.

Nie Huaisang is a lucky man who’d better not mess this up.

The banquet offered by Qinghe Nie to the wedding’s guests is nothing short of magnificent. Whatever faults he has, Nie Huaisang is a good host, who knows how to please people. There are many dishes, fit for every taste, and over half of those are suitable for vegetarians. Lan Sizhui, however, finds himself without much appetite on this happy day.

He really is never going to be Lan sect leader now. Not when he knows who he truly is, not when his father has a daughter of his own blood who is probably only the first of many, not when his uncle too might now have children. It’s a relief, because Lan Sizhui isn’t sure he ever wanted that responsibility in the first place, no more than he would have wanted to marry Lan Jingyi, if he’s honest. But it drives home once more the fact that he doesn’t know what the future holds for him anymore, and that is a little scary.

Without meaning to, Lan Sizhui’s eyes start to wander toward the Jin guests, and rest on their young sect leader. It is the first time Lan Sizhui sees him in over a year, since that day in Yunping City. He looks taller, and a good deal less like a child, but that’s no surprise with everything that has changed for him. Jin Ling seems to be growing into a serious young man. A handsome one as well, but that’s hardly a surprise, the Jins usually have their good looks going for them, even if their personalities can be lacking… though Jin Ling has both a good face and a good heart, of course.

Lan Sizhui must have stared too long, because after a while, Jin Ling notices, looks in his direction, and smiles. It makes Lan Sizhui’s heart beat a little faster, until he remembers that there can be no friendship between them, not unless he lies.

In this too his life has changed.

His mood taking a sour turn, Lan Sizhui excuses himself to Lan Jingyi, leaves his seat abruptly, and goes for a walk. Hopefully, the Nies won't mind too much that he is wandering a bit. If anyone asks, he'll say he is looking for the garden his uncle mentioned after some of his visits.

No one asks.

Lan Sizhui might as well be a ghost.

He feels a bit like one, tied to a past tragedy that now defines him. The lone survivor of a sect that should be extinct, forced to decide if he should follow the teaching of the family that raised him, or try to find again those of a family he cannot remember. Either way, it would feel like betraying someone.

Just as Lan Sizhui finally finds that garden, he hears footsteps running after him. Before he even turns to look, he knows by the flowery smell that reaches him who decided to follow him.

“Lan Sizhui!” Jin Ling shouts as he gets closer. “Are you avoiding me?”

Lan Sizhui winces, unsure how to answer that without insulting or lying. He has been avoiding Jin Ling, but it would be unwise to admit it.

“It’s been ages!” Jin Ling insists, unbothered by the lack of reply. “And I know you know that you’re invited to come to Carp Tower whenever you like, because I told Jingyi to tell you, and he said that he told you!”

Lan Sizhui can’t fully repress a small smile. Lan Jingyi has, indeed, passed that invitation on to him. Lan Sizhui has assumed he was invited only out of politeness, to avoid offending another alpha due to the friendship Jin Ling has developed with the omega Lan Sizhui was once half expected to marry. It can’t have been anything more. Like Jin Ling says, it’s been a long time since they met.

“I am very sorry,” Lan Sizhui says, which is nothing but the truth. “I have been busy.”

He hesitates to say more than that. Considering Jin Ling’s distaste for Wen Ning, it is probably better not to mention him. It is a happy day, Lan Sizhui doesn’t want to ruin it.

Jin Ling, unimpressed, shrugs and steps closer. It is hard to ignore that he’s taller than Lan Sizhui now, his shoulders broader. Jin Ling is everything that an alpha ought to be, and Lan Sizhui almost envies whoever will get to be his omega.

“I know you’ve been busy,” Jin Ling retorts, crossing his arms on his chest, looking a little like the haughty boy he was when they first met. “Travelling places with the Ghost General and all that… but you’ve been back to Gusu for a few months, would it have been so hard to come say hi?”

“That’s…”

“You can even take Wen Ning with you if you want, I don’t care,” Jin Ling adds, rolling his eyes as if he can’t believe he has to spell it out. “I don’t hate him as much as I used to, and Lan Jingyi says he’s actually good company. Plus he’s related to you, isn’t he? So of course I want to learn to tolerate him better.”

Lan Sizhui gasps softly, his blood turning to ice at the thought that anyone might have guessed already. Of course he knew that people would talk after hearing that he travelled with Wen Ning, but somehow he’d hoped that nobody would realise why he was doing that, not yet, not so soon.

Jin Ling, again, rolls his eyes.

“Right, it’s supposed to be a secret I guess?” he snorts. “Well, I’m not a complete idiot, thanks. I can see that you look a bit like him, and my uncle told me more about when Wei Wuxian was living in the Burial Mounds, since I asked. He says there was a child there, and then I just had to do some math and… well, I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You’re right,” Lan Sizhui confirms, terrified and elated at once that he doesn’t need to keep that secret from Jin Ling. “You seem to be taking this rather well.”

Jin Ling shrugs, a touch of red colouring his cheeks.

“I’ve had time to get used to the idea,” he grumbles. “I was pretty pissed off at first when I realised, but then I figured it doesn’t change things that much. You’re still you, and I still want to be close to you, the rest doesn’t matter.”

Hearing this, Lan Sizhui’s face heats up.

“I’d like that as well,” he admits with a shy smile. “I thought you wouldn’t want for us to be friends if you knew, so this is a relief.”

“Of course I’d want to be friends anyway!” Jin Ling exclaims. “I don’t care if you’re a Wen, or a Lan, or whatever! You’re Sizhui, and I want us to be close, I don’t care about the rest!”

Lan Sizhui’s blush deepens, and he looks away, trying to contain a nervous laughter.

“Jin Ling, I’d have thought being a sect leader would have taught you to be more careful about what you say,” he teases. “You’re lucky we’re both alphas, or else your words might be misunderstood as something else.”

Jin Ling’s entire face turns so red the cinnabar dot on his forehead nearly disappears. It’s… it’s cute. It’s really cute, and Lan Sizhui knows he shouldn’t think of another alpha as being adorable, but he can’t help it.

“There’s nothing to misunderstand!” Jin Ling blurts out, fists clenched on either side of his body.

“Of course,” Lan Sizhui sighs, a little too amused that Jin Ling is still the same, even if he’s grown up. “I was just…”

“There’s nothing to misunderstand because that’s exactly the way I mean it!” Jin Ling cuts him, grabbing one of his hands and squeezing it just a little too tight. “I like you a lot, Lan Sizhui! And I don’t care that you’re a Wen, or that you’re an alpha, I still like you like that, so deal with it!”

Lan Sizhui gapes at the other alpha, stunned by those words he would never have expected.

If it were anyone else, he’d think of a joke. Or else, he’d think that this is just a younger alpha who admires an older one a little too much, as can happen. It’s not unheard of just after presenting, and it usually goes away quickly. In fact, if Jin Ling had said this back in Yi City, Lan Sizhui would have dismissed it as just a passing crush. But they haven’t seen each other in so long that Jin Ling should have grown out of that phase already. Beside, he looks and sounds dreadfully sure of himself.

And Lan Sizhui, who has never really given much thought to those few omega who tried to flirt with him, finds his heart racing in his chest at the idea that Jin Ling might like him.

“Jin Ling, that’s…”

“Don’t say anything!” Jin Ling orders, squeezing his hand harder. “You don’t get to say anything until you’ve really thought about it, and then you’ll have to come visit me in Carp Tower if you want to talk about it! But I mean this, so don’t treat me as a kid, and give it real thought. I’m serious about this, and if you don’t like me back yet, then I’ll just have to convince you!”

There won’t be much convincing needed, Lan Sizhui suspects, his eyes falling to their joined hands. He’s never thought of Jin Ling in that light before, but only because his whole life used to be so neatly mapped out for him.

Suddenly, that sense of uncertainty he’s been feeling since he understood where he comes from isn’t so scary anymore. The Lan Sizhui of before, half engaged to his best friend, half expected to become sect leader, could never have allowed himself to even think about Jin Ling in that light. The person he is now can, and he certainly will.

He’s already been thinking about Jin Ling more than he should, anyway.

“I’ll come to Carp Tower soon,” Lan Sizhui promises, carefully moving his hand to thread their fingers together.

He likes the hopeful way Jin Ling stares at him, his tone and gesture already betraying what his answer will be.

Lan Sizhui grins.

The future, once more, feels like something to look forward to.

#lingzhui #zhuiling #lan sizhui #jin ling #lan jingyi #mdzs #jau writes #does the world need more lan sizhui angst regarding his complicated familial situation? not really but have it anyway :)

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evehere · 3 years

Note

I just wanted to say I am absolutely taken by your 2ha ficlet as well! I even started reading "The wife is first" per your recommendation, and every new chapter I read all I think about is "ooh, this would fit so well with ranwan, what an amazing idea!" I really can't wait to read the rest of what you have written, thanks for doing this

Hi! Omgsh, thanks so much for the nice! I felt that since people might not know the series this au is based in, they might not take an interest to it! I write for my own pleasure, but it feels good to post it and see some response.

I’m glad you’re enjoying QWS. It’s really a comfort novel, like, each chapter feels so warm and nice! I reread some chapters when I’m feeling in the mood for some comfort without the hurt part (／ω＼) And the main characters are so similar as well, like JS is a bright boy on his way to take care of his hubby and JQ is the cold and aloof man who is like wtf every time JS does something for him. Besides, I really like the setting the author created for homosexual marriage.

I leave you here the main scene that was inspired in the novel, I hope you’ll like it!

Yearning willow masterpost ❤️

Mo Ran 2.0 (2)

Resurrection

Mo Ran snapped his eyes open.

Was he dead?

It was dark, a faint crimson undertone around him.

He was lying on something soft, something akin to a blanket covering him. He was warm and comfortable.

There was, however, had a faint pressure in his head, as a light hangover, and a frantic feeling in his chest, his heart beating hard and his breathing picking up. Did the spirits have the same sensations as the living? Mo Ran asked himself. Tentatively, he curled lightly his fingers. His fingers answered at his slightest order, with no difference to when he was alive.

Excruciatingly slow, Mo Ran moved his hand up his chest, and placed his hand over his heart.

It was beating.

Was he really dead? Or had Xue-bofu come up with something at the last moment, saving him? But he would swear that he had felt the knife in his neck, and the blood flowing out like a fountain.

Mo Ran glided his hand over the spot of his chest where the executioner had made the second cut. The skin was intact, no sign of a knife cut. Mo Ran frowned slightly, feeling that something was amiss.

His eyes were adjusting to the dark. Those were… curtains? Like a canopy?

As a thunderstruck, he realised what was amiss. He couldn’t feel his ribs. Instead, there was supple muscle under his hand, like he had before he entered the prison. In prison, the prolonged lack of food had led him to lose almost all muscle mass.

Startled, he sat on the bed. He felt… good, despite the headache. Better than he had in the last months. But it was more like… normal.

He was wearing a cosy night robe, partially open at his chest. Mo Ran opened his lapels, noticing dumbfounded that the blade scar he had got in a battle a couple of years before his imprisonment was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he had no injury other than some old scars. He was… intact. Whole.

Mo Ran was alive. Not just alive, but his body was in the state it was in several years back.

There was a huff of breath next to him.

Startled, Mo Ran looked to his side. A body lied next to him, with his back facing Mo Ran. There was another huff of breath as they stirred, apparently deep in sleep. They had long, silky hair extended over the pillow. He couldn’t determine if they were a man or a woman.

He was in a bed. Someone was lying next to him.

This wasn’t unknown to him. Quite the opposite, Mo Ran was very familiar with this setting. Also, he was recognising the place, his heart threatening to get out of his chest as his hand trembled from the force with which he clenched his night robe.

There was only one way to check it.

Putting a hand on the pillow to support himself, he reached over and peered at the face of the sleeping person next to him.

Rong Jiu.

Rong Jiu’s young, graceful face, with his tender and androgynous features.

They were lying in the canopy bed in Rong Jiu’s old rooms in his Nanping manor. He recognised now the crimson drapes with embroidered mandarin ducks. Now that he saw them again, the deep red colour still vibrant and new, he felt the same need to tear them down.

As he had before his imprisonment.

He threw another look at the man lying beside him, noticing the lovebites and the handprints on the skin that peeked out of the blankets. What’s more, there were fine rope marks on Rong Jiu’s wrists.

Weren’t those remarkably similar to his own handiwork!?

Mo Ran couldn’t bear to stay in there anymore, so he got up from the bed, letting the bed curtains fall closed. He was indeed in Rong Jiu’s old room, with the same red and gold decorations and rich fabrics with detailed embroidery. However, last year Mo Ran had made some renovations to make the room more spacious. The room looked as if he had never made them.

It was cold, and it was still dark outside, but he could see faint sun rays from the paper windows. The room was silent—not even birds were singing yet.

There was a mirror in a corner, and Mo Ran watched his own reflection.

Strong. Muscular. Tanned. Traits he lost when he was imprisoned. Yet the white hairs he had got when Chu Wanning got ill in prison had disappeared altogether.

Had he… had he gone back in time?

Mo Ran was confident that he had died at the execution grounds. But he had heard stories before. Stories of people who died under serious grievances, with the blessings of the gods, going back in time so they can start over with the knowledge of the future.

The realisation hit Mo Ran like a sack of stones, and he staggered, dizzy.

“Fuck!”

Gods hadn’t abandoned him after all. He had another opportunity.

Another opportunity.

His voice, however, finally rose the sleeping beauty resting in the bed.

“Hum… Houye… You woke up so early today.”

Mo Ran’s gaze was icy when he looked back at the man sitting up on the bed. Years ago, he had received Rong Jiu as a gift from Viscount Chang. He had liked him and took him in as a concubine. In the end, Rong Jiu proved to be an internal spy all along, and provided the court with more evidence of Mo Ran’s wrongdoings to expiate himself with good deeds. Viscount Chang had brought him back when Mo Ran was imprisoned and got himself some merits from the emperor.

How he had fallen for the tricks of this little vixen!

He had been so blind to find attractive an androgynous and seductive beauty like Rong Jiu. It was nothing like the beauty of his husband, his Wanning…

Chu Wanning. If Mo Ran was back, that meant that Chu Wanning was back too?

Rong Jiu noticed that Mo Ran looked gloomy and unwilling to talk to him, but merely thought that he might be in a foul mood.

“Houye, did you not sleep well last night? Did you have a bad dream?”

I died, moron. That’s a bad dream in its own right.

Since Mo Ran still showed no signs of talking or approaching him, Rong Jiu raised, draping a robe on his shoulders, and hugged him from behind.

Mo Ran fought his first instinct to shake the treacherous man from his back. He wanted nothing more than to shake him off and slap him until he vented his anger. Yet, for the time being, it would be best if he were careful and treated everyone as if they knew nothing—at least until he got more information about his own situation.

Besides, he should care about his marquis reputation, just in case. His reputation as an immoral who did anything he pleased was the reason people had been so ready to believe that Mo Ran had tried to dethrone the emperor in his past life.

In his past life, Chu Wanning used to advise him to be humbler and keep a low profile, but he hadn’t heeded his advice. Later, he’d realise the kindness behind his words.

“How about I ask servants to prepare breakfast for you? Congee and fried buns sound good?”

Finding himself unable to talk, Mo Ran simply nodded his head.

Rong Jiu called a servant and went on his well-practiced routine with Mo Ran, preparing boiling water and clean clothes. Mo Ran merely observed him. The man really hadn’t changed in the past years.

If everything was real, if Mo Ran was back in the past, then everything had yet to happen. Mo Ran had yet to lose his title and his estate, he had yet to die, and Chu Wanning… Chu Wanning was still alive. He could still fix things with him before it was too late.

Rong Jiu had been taken into the manor in his second year after his marriage with Chu Wanning, so he knew he was already married to him.

“What day is it?” Mo Ran asked Rong Jiu as he approached him with his thick outer robes in dark blue and lined with grey rabbit fur.

Judging by the cold, it was around winter, but that alone wasn’t enough information.

“Third day of the tenth month, houye. Today’s the beginning of the winter.”

“Dingyou year?” He guessed it should be around that time.

“Yes, houye,” Rong Jiu answered with a hint of amusement. “Did houye had too much to drink last night, that he has to ask about the year?”

Dingyou year. He was twenty-six years old, and he had been married to Chu Wanning for almost five years. He was back from his last big military campaign, earning the title of Taxian general from the emperor. The campaign had taken him barely a year and ended around… The Lantern Festival? Mo Ran remembered he had been back for that one. He had been back in Nanping-fu for almost a year then.

After his campaign against the north, everything had gone downhill. Mo Ran had been drunk on praises and riches, taking in five or six concubines every year, and allowing himself to do as he pleased. He had gotten into many fights, both private and in court, and he had estranged himself from the Xue family and Nangong Si.

He remembered how he had gone out of his way to make Chu Wanning miserable as well.

The servants brought in the breakfast and set the dishes on the table. Mo Ran took a seat on the low table and let Rong Jiu serve him a bowl of congee. He extended his hand to take the bowl and chopsticks, but Rong Jiu batted his hand away with a teasing gesture.

“I’ll serve houye his meal,” he said with a flirtatious smile.

Mo Ran merely stared at him, incapable to react at first. The wish to slap a few teeth out of that smile was so strong that Mo Ran almost acted on it. Then he remembered he should act normal, to avoid raising suspicion.

A slow, boyish smile appeared on his face, and opened his mouth when Rong Jiu approached the spoon to his lips. He used to fish out sputum from their prison’s meals, so no matter how disgusting he found to let the boy feed him, he had no trouble acting his role.

There were worse things.

He let the young man feed him three bowls and a half, alternating with bites of the fried pork buns, and then stopped him. It had been so long since he last had a full meal, that the need to finish every bit of food in sight was strong.

From what he remembered, he usually had two bowls of congee and a couple of buns for breakfast, but, in his mind, it had been half a year since he last ate to his heart content. His belly didn’t agree with him, feeling overstuffed, and Mo Ran stopped Rong Jiu before he got sick. He would get used to eating regularly again, he supposed.

He couldn’t help to scoff internally. Rong Jiu would give him whatever he asked, with no regard to what was actually good for him.

Mo Ran wanted nothing more than to ask about Chu Wanning (where was his husband?), but another manservant got into the room with his official robes, a heavy garment in deep purple and a tall, black hat.

Fuck. Of course, if he was back, he’d have to go to morning court.

“Take it away and call a doctor. I’m not feeling well,” he told the servant.

If he had to attend morning court, he should at least familiarise again with the current situation. To be safe, he should avoid it for a few days.

Rong Jiu looked at him with alarm.

“Why didn’t houye say anything earlier? Quick, go call a doctor!” Then he fretted around Mo Ran, pulling him to lie back in the bed.

Mo Ran batted Rong Jiu’s hands away—he was getting throughly fed up with Rong Jiu’s act, knowing that he fretted around him now, but news of his “illness” would spread to Viscount Chang before noon. Ignoring the look of incredulity in his concubine’s face, he wrote a leave of absence and gave it to the servant, telling him to take it to the palace.

“Tell the doctor to come to my office.”

He had no patience left to deal with Rong Jiu.

Nanping-fu was a siheyuan, a courtyard house, divided in a front courtyard and a backyard. The main door, Mo Ran’s office, guest parlour and the library were all in the front courtyard, open to guests, while everyone’s bedchambers, the family shrine, the kitchens, storage rooms and guest rooms were in the backyard.

All the chambers were arranged around an elegant inner garden in a square. The one positioned in the north stood among them as the main house, where was Mo Ran and Chu Wanning’s room.

The same room he had shared with Shi Mei. Mo Ran frowned, uncomfortable with the thought. He’d have to do something about it.

Mo Ran walked through the beautifully decorated pathways with slow, lingering steps. The last time he had seen the place, some servants had even turned the flowerpots upside down, some taking the valuable flowers and others taking the hand-carved pots.

On his way to his office, he passed the guest parlour. The mere sight of it brought bad memories to Mo Ran. It was there where he received the imperial edict ordering his imprisonment. With it, any woman in Nanping-fu could be enslaved and sold as a servant, and any man left in there was to be exiled. Though few fools were still there when the sentence reached it.

Fools like Chu Wanning, his stubborn husband.

“For his father’s past achievements, and his own contributions and military merits towards the empire, Chu Wanning, husband of the criminal Mo Ran, is granted a pardon. By the grace of the Son of Heaven, this marriage is rescinded. He is hereby allowed to return to his old post in the Censorate, retaining the goods he brought into the marriage!” The imperial eunuch had announced.

At the time, Mo Ran had thrown a hateful glance towards his husband. Had he stayed just to show off his pardon? Or did he stay to laugh at Mo Ran’s expenses? Or maybe it was both of them. At the time, it wouldn’t have surprised him; Mo Ran had made his life mission to make Chu Wanning’s life as uncomfortable as possible in the eight years they had been married.

Chu Wanning should be happy that the marriage was over.

That’s why the words Chu Wanning had said after kowtowing three times had utterly surprised him. His thin figure looked as if a strong current of wind could blow him away.

“I’m grateful for bixia’s magnanimous graces. But since this marriage was meant to unite the old and new nobility, nothing more would serve this purpose than letting the both of us get the same sentence as husbands. Husbands should be as of one body; we shall share both glory and failure.”

“What are you doing?” Mo Ran asked, absolutely bewildered. He was signing his own death sentence!

Chu Wanning hadn’t even looked at him, his head bowed to the floor—only the tips of his ears reddened as a sign of his fluster. Mo Ran’s eyes were red as well, his frustration and his pain long past the point of trying to fight for himself.

“I won’t leave Nanping-fu,” Chu Wanning had said.

At first, Mo Ran still thought it was a trick. That some imperial eunuch would come to the prison and announce that the joke was over and Chu Wanning could go and take back his post at the Censorate. But the imperial edict that came was instead that Chu Wanning was stripped of his titles and his possessions. Later, all doubts were erased when the prison guards interrogated him.

The need to see Chu Wanning was so enormous that Mo Ran could hardly breathe. It filled everything and grasped his heart, constricting it painfully. He had to see him and make sure… make sure that Chu Wanning was still alive. That this wasn’t a nightmare conjured by his dying mind, in which he came back to life only to find that Chu Wanning wasn’t there.

Or worse. A punishment set out by the hell judges, to let him live an eternal life in this nightmare.

A servant passed next to him carrying a basin of water, bowing to Mo Ran when he was a few steps away.

“Greetings, houye.”

“Hum,” Mo Ran said in all answer. The servant was about to go away, when he cleared his throat and asked off-handed, “where is furen?”

The servant merely looked at him, his eyes wide as plates. The fear pricked his heart hard, cold sweat forming on his back, and Mo Ran made a tight fist, waiting for an answer.

“F-furen?”

“Yes, where is he?” He asked, trying to conceal his anxiousness under his mask.

“H-he’s still kneeling in the shrine, houye, as you ordered him yesterday.”

Fuck.

***

Houye (侯爷): a respectful way to address a marquis (hou, 侯). It can be used by his spouse, concubines, servants, all those whose ranks are below him. People of his same rank and above may address him as “Mo-hou”.

Dingyou year （丁酉）: 34th year of the sexagenary cycle. It’s just a way to keep track of the time, because I don’t know in which emperor’s reign would this be based on XD

Nanping-fu (府): fu means “manor”. There was a distinction between what one could call their own house, and only nobles of certain level could call their homes “fu”. A lower level would be “zhai” 宅, while the higher level would be “gong” (宫，palace).

Furen (夫人): literally, “madam”. BUT, furen is made up of the characters 夫 (fu, husband) and 人 (ren, person). Being as nouns are only gendered because they’re historically tied to a certain gender, I think it’s fine to think that a furen can be a man, but in a position of deference towards their spouse.

***

If you liked it, please consider supporting me with a rb!

#yearning willow #qws au #2ha #2ha fanfic #dumb husky and his white cat shizun #二哈和他的白猫师尊 #I have most of it outlined now #and I'm afraid #because I have another gigantic fic that started just like this XD

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

Insert interesting AN here. It's like 2 in the morning.

Chapter 13

He finally speaks. “This isn’t going to work if you keep moving around.”

You dig your nails into your palms as he pulls another shard from your back. “I know. Still hurts.”

A pause. “I could ask Master Splinter to let you have some alcohol to numb it if you want.” His voice throughout the whole process has been incredibly soft, from since you woke up in his room until now. “The skin disinfectant is going to sting more than this.”

“I’ll drink myself to death,” you promise, half-joking in an attempt to lighten the suffocating mood. “Seeing how the past couple months have gone, I should probably just get used to pain, right?”

He pulls another piece of blood-soaked glass from your skin, placing it into a can at his side with a clink. “I really hope that doesn’t happen.” You feel him pull another portion of the skin on your back taught. “The pain thing, I mean. Not to say that I want you to drink yourself to death—”

“I get what you mean.” You try to keep an eye on him without moving your neck, not wanting to get blood on his sheets. “I’m the same way about the murdering thing.”

Silence, again.

“How’s the cockroach thing going?”

“It’s going.” He is quick if nothing else; he is already three-quarters of the way done, now at your waist. “It seemed to be working alright this morning, so it should work tonight if I’m lucky.”

You smile gently. “That’s good, then. You’re due for some good luck.”

“Of the two of us?” He leans to the side from his seat on his chair, studying your face. “I think you need it more than I do.”

You laugh. “Most teenagers boys don’t have half-naked girls on their beds because of medical reasons,” you argue. “I’d say you dealing with me is worthy of some good mojo.”

“The portal wouldn’t have been destroyed if not for you.” He leans back, pulling a particularly large piece out of your hip. “We wouldn’t even know what their ultimate plan was, what to look out for, what to expect.” He bends down, and you hear the gurgling of a liquid being poured out. “Besides,” he reasons, “it was as much my fault as yours for not thinking of the glass walls. It’s the least I could do.”

You bite down on your tongue as he starts wiping the blood off. “Shit,” you hiss, “that stings.”

A hint of excitement laces his tone. “Wanna know why?”

Your jaw relaxes as the pain subsides. “Sure,” you chuckle, strained. “Why does it hurt?”

“Well,” he starts, “this antiseptic, like most antiseptics, is comprised mainly of two compounds: ethanol, or just normal grain alcohol, and hydrogen peroxide.” He sounds like a passionate schoolteacher when he goes off about anything science-related. It is absolutely enrapturing, listening to someone so in love with their craft. “Now, ethanol activates vanilloid receptor-one, which is also activated by capsaicin, which is what makes food spicy. But the funny thing about that,” he continued, “is that, usually, the receptor is only activated by really high temperatures—the receptor is what lets you register hot things as hot.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know about medical stuff.” You wince again as he continues to clean your wounds.

“Oh, I’m just not good at applied medicine,” he chuckles nervously. “None of the serious stuff, I mean; I’d never be able to perform a proper surgery or prescribe medications without a ridiculous amount of research, but I know how to set bones and how certain chemicals react to certain receptors.”

“So, you know how it works but not how to fix it?”

“I guess so, yeah.” You hear the chair move as he gets to his feet. “I started looking into it the first night you came here, actually, since I never looked into how burns worked until…” he trails off, clears his throat. “Anyway,” he tries again, “ethanol lowers the temperature threshold to body temperature, making the cut burn. It’s also why it’s painful to drink things with a high alcohol content: your receptors register it as if you’re actually being burned.” He pushes your hair off your neck carefully. “Hydrogen peroxide acts similarly, only it activates a different receptor, known as transient receptor potential ankyrin one, and while not as much as known about it, it’s theorized that it acts similarly, resulting in you feeling pain.” Your fingernails dig into your palms again as you suck in air at the burning sensation on your neck. “But it’s important to note that antiseptics are different than disinfectants. Disinfectants are for non-organic surfaces because they contain higher concentrations of biocides than antiseptics.”

You exhale as the pain subsides. “Have you used antiseptics before now?”

“Of course.” You feel him start to place things—they feel like pads—on your back. “But I made sure to account for the differences in skin types, so unless I made a big mistake at some point, the odds of you getting chemical burns is close to zero.”

“Your confidence is very reassuring,” you grin. “By any chance, do you plan on reimbursing the cost of cutting my shirt up?”

“Nah,” he shrugs. “Was planning on having you walk out of here in the middle of fall in NYC without a shirt to make double sure you get hypothermia. As you said, we have to add to your list of injuries.”

“Of course,” you “nod’ knowingly, cracking yourself up. “No pain, no game.”

“Glad to be on the same page.” He sighs. “Honestly, I don’t have a ton of fabric to fix your shirt or jacket, so unless you have some on hand—”

Your response is immediate. “You take my shirt and fix it,” you interrupt. “If one of them is going, it sure as hell ain’t gonna be that fucking jacket.”

He blinks. Your words register after a second.

“I do not mean it in—I mean—” you immediately backpedal. “I’m not—you get what I mean, right?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I know what you—yeah.” He is doing absolutely nothing to help the embarrassment. “I got it; i-in hindsight, I probably should have tried taking the jacket off, but I was worried I’d cut your skin up more.”

You press your face into the mattress as you feel what you assume is tape being laid along your sides. “I appreciate it.” A pause. “I don’t actually remember what happened after the main explosion happened. What…”

No response. You feel his knee sink to the bed as he reaches over, applying the adhesive on the other side of your skin quietly.

“I don’t wanna know?”

“Probably not.” His hand presses the creases flat into the curve of your back, sighing again.

You smile nervously. “I made a fool of myself, then?”

“… I wouldn’t say that.” He applied another pad to your neck. “Just—for glass rain, you were pretty calm, I’d say.”

“For glass rain,” you highlight. “Seeing as I don’t remember it, I can’t imagine it was good.”

He removes his hands. “I honestly don’t know why what happened happened,” he admits. “Just know that the guys are probably not going to give you a hard time for it.”

“Probably?” You finally turn your head to look at him.

He shrugs, gently turning your head back. “Mikey, sadly, seems to get it more than we do, so that’s two.”

You lick your lips absentmindedly. “Hey,” you shrug, “I’ll take fifty percent.”

You feel a heavy blanket drape over your back. “I still have to get the glass out of your hair, and I don’t have anything else for you to wear, so this’ll have to do. I won’t look while you adjust it.”

Your eyes strain to check. Sure enough, you watch him turn around and face the opposing wall.

You sit up, pulling the blanket around yourself to save your modesty. “You’re good. Need me to turn around?”

“Uh, yeah.”

You lift yourself, careful of your leg as you reposition yourself to have your back to him. “Thanks for this, if I haven’t said it already.”

“It’s no problem.” Fingers part your hair, tweezers now attached to your scalp. “You should see the stupid injuries I’ve had to help my brothers with.”

“I bet,” you feel yourself grinning. “I’m surprised you guys haven’t torn each other to shreds yet.”

“There have been close calls.” You hear the clinking of the can again. “Especially after getting our hands on weapons when we did. You would not believe the number of concussions we had.”

You put your hands up for dramatic effect. “Madness.”

“You laugh,” he laughs, “but figuring out our anatomy to any degree of accuracy was hard enough. I’m convinced Mikey messed Raph up with his nunchaku when we were ten.”

You let him move your head. “This I gotta hear.”

“Oh, it isn’t a really interesting story,” Donnie clarifies. “He just accidentally hit Raph in the head too hard during training and almost caved in his skull.”

You try not to laugh. “What counts as an interesting story, then?”

“Well,” he contemplates, “there was that time with the oven.”

You turn to look at him the best you can with the limited movement he allowed. “The time with the oven?”

“Wax paper catches fire if you put it in the oven.”

You nod, turning back. “Was it you or Mikey?”

“A bit of both.” Clink. Clink. “I thought wax paper implied paper made of some sort of wax, and Mikey was trying to make decorative candles. The theory,” he continues, clearly trying to make himself not sound stupid, “was that putting it in the oven would get more consistent heat throughout the wax.”

You try to hide your amusement for his sake. “I take it that didn’t pan out.”

“It did not.” He chuckled dryly, combing his fingers through your hair to feel for glass. “Splinter was so mad, I thought we wouldn’t see tomorrow.”

Your fingers clench as his hand catches. “Not so harsh,” you breathe in pain. “You’re gonna rip my hair out.”

“Oh, sorry.” He removed his hand. “I forgot it was—that’s stupid,” he edits. “I’m not used to dealing with hair is what I meant.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him quickly. “Just try not to tug so hard.”

“I don’t think there’s any glass left anyways, so.” You hear the chair wheel away from the bed. “That probably won’t be a problem.”

You turn around properly, adjusting the blanket over your torso. “Thank you for all your help.”

His eyes flicker downward for a second before staring directly and deliberately at your face. “You’re welcome,” he nods, not moving his eyes. “You were incredibly easy to work with.”

“You made quick work of it.” Your legs cross over another, your worn sneaker matching the color of the concrete floor. “And don’t worry about my shirt; I have to go shopping, anyways.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“Well,” you reason, “My clothes are already kinda worn, and I’ve been meaning to buy leather gloves for a while, so it would give me an excuse to go look for a good pair.”

“Leather gloves?”

You nod. “I was hashing it out with Casey, and he agreed they would look badass and cover up my hand scars.”

“You know,” he suggests, poorly feigning nonchalance, “I could make you some.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I have the know-how, and I’m pretty good with that sort of thing.”

You shake your head immediately, face heating up. “After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t let you do that.”

“Sure you can.” You can practically see the gears turning as he verbally plans it out. “I’d need measurements, of course, and finding good quality leather might be a challenge, but it would allow a lot of stylistic freedom. If you gave me a sketch of what you and Mikey worked out a sketch—”

“Dude, no.” You feel like such a girl, getting flustered over something like this. “Never mind how much unnecessary work that would take—”

“It would take me an afternoon, tops.”

“—it would be way too much trouble to find all the right materials and everything!” You shake your head more vigorously. “You have enough on your plate already.”

He pauses. “What if I could give it a practical use? Like, for self-defense or something. Would you let me then?”

You blink. “Self-defense?”

“Yeah.” You feel as though you are missing something when he hurries to clarify, “You had a knife next to you when I came to pick you up. Having something more user-friendly might—not that you can’t use a knife, but you don’t have a ton of experience with them, especially using a kitchen knife against the Foot and you get what I’m saying, right?”

You hesitate, trying to understand what he said before nodding. “I guess that makes sense,” you concede. “It would be shitty to go out like a bitch after convincing myself I deserve to live so many times. That would be kinda inconvenient.”

Despite the fact he looks like you just put a knife to your throat, he nods. “Yeah,” he confirms tentatively. “Inconvenient.”

You shift the blanket under your arms, folding it so that it would stay at your chest. “Alright,” you sigh, “You convinced me. But!” You aim to accentuate this caveat, “But, not my design. If you’re going to go through all the trouble, you design it to how you think they would look cool, so you feel good about what you’re making.”

“You trust me to not make you look bad?”

“Totally.” You smile. “Looking at the Shellraiser makes me want to vomit, but it’s not from lack of style.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Exactly what I said,” you commit.

Your statement makes him take pause, but, eventually, he seems to get what you mean. “Then… thanks,” he nods. “I should probably fix your jacket first, though. Unless you want to walk around New York in the middle of the night in a blanket.”

“I’d rather not,” you admit. ��I feel like that would not be my greatest move.”

He gets up. “Are you alright to be left alone? It’s alright if you aren’t,” he clarifies, “but I’d have to shift the timetable a bit if that’s the case.”

You blink, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.” He is lying, you are sure. “Just wanted to check before I told the guys I was good to go.”

Something about that statement seems strange to you. “Wait,” you clarify, “why would you go on another mission tonight?”

He averts eye contact.

You lean forward. “How long have I been weird?”

“Not too long, I don’t think. You were out when I got there.”

You reach over, forcing him to look at you head-on. “Are you lying to me?”

He does not answer.

“Has more than a day passed?”

He shakes his head. “It’s only about seven.”

You let go, resting your face in your hands. “so, I’ve been out for, what, sixteen hours?”

“Kinda.” He fiddles with his hands nervously. “A little less, I think.”

“And how long have I been out of it?”

He takes a moment. “You were crying a lot when you woke up,” he concedes. “At about two in the afternoon. I think you cried yourself out, because when I came to check on you—I thought maybe water would help— you were out.”

“Wonderful.” You look up at him. “And was it loud?”

“Not really.” He looks as though he was being interrogated. “I wouldn’t have come, but I left something in here that I needed.” His voice is back to being soft and calm. “You were mumbling about your hands a lot. I actually tied you up,” he chuckles nervously, “because you were moving around so much and getting the shards farther into your back.”

You sigh, something in your stomach sinking. “Probably not a terrible move. Then what?”

“When you started getting normal again,” he continues, “I untied you and got you to stop moving when I started taking the glass out, and I’m guessing you remember the rest.”

You do not say anything.

He stares intently at a corner. “I know this might come off as rude,” he starts carefully, “and I don’t mean to be rude…”

“Spit it out,” you gesture. “Let’s just… what’s up?”

“I honestly do not know enough about this sort of thing to help you.” He looks back at you. “I wish I did, really, but I don’t. I don’t know how you’re wired, mentally, and it’s really not an area I can help you with.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“But I do know,” he continues, “it has to be hard, trying to find help, given the circumstances, especially after everything that’s happened.”

“Please,” you almost beg, “just get to the point.”

“I think it would be a good idea to start spending more time with Master Splinter.” He looks down at his hands. “I think, given that he knows more about this sort of thing than I do, it would be good for you.”

“So, you’re prescribing therapy?”

“I’m not saying you’re crazy—”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The silence is choking you.

“I don’t know if you have a disorder,” he sighs. “Again, not my area of expertise.” He tries to phrase what he means right, and the next few sentences come out slow and deliberate. “All I know is that the people you’ve known your whole life aren’t around anymore, and you’re having really bad nightmares, and that you freeze up when you get really scared. I don’t want you to suffer on our account.”

You stare down at your feet.

“If not because you’re worried about it,” he tries at a different angle, “would you do it as payment for the gloves? That way, it’s not a handout.”

You smile at that. “Hand out.”

It takes a second. “Pun not intended,” he sighs. “I kinda wish it was, now.”

You look up. “I’ll talk to him while you guys are gone on your mission tonight.”

“Thank you,” he breathes. “I appreciate it, really.”

You smile properly. “Hey,” you say, adjusting the blanket. “You take glass shards out of my back and I scratch yours, or something like that.”

He chuckles. “I should probably go let the guys know,” he gets to his feet. “If you want,” he offers, “you can come with.”

“I’ll take a raincheck.” You get up after him, vision blacking out for a moment as you grab the wall for support. “But I can help you grab all your stuff to move out, if you need.”

His eyes go wide. “You don’t have clothes,” he reminds you.

You almost roll your eyes at this particular concern. “Covers more than a bathing suit,” you reason. “I’ll be careful about making sure it doesn’t slip, I promise.”

“But what if it does?”

“Then they should take a picture of the only pair of tits they’ll ever see in person.” You start to hobble towards the door. “I’ve dealt with worse wardrobe malfunctions. I’ll be fine, really.”

“Your flippancy is incredibly concerning.”

You try not to laugh. You look back at him, grin. “Concerning? Me?” You bring a hand to your chest. “I’m offended, sir. Besides,” You giggle, “I need to have a chat with your brothers if that episode is today.”

The look on his face immediately validates your decision. “Could you run that by me again?”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, hand traveling across the open air as if to reveal your statement. “Cockroach. Terminator.”

“Okay, I’m going to need you to give me more explanation again.”

A sharp grin spreads across your features. “Imagine this,” you explain smoothly. “A giant cockroach—“

“Hate it.”

“— that is also a cyborg—“

“Hating it more.”

“— complete with near invincibility—“

“Sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“— with saws.”

“And it is.” Raphael removes your arm from his shoulders. “I’m sold. No more of that.”

“So,” you confirm, leaning back against the wall, “what is everyone not going to do?”

“I dunno,” Mikey admits easily. “I was too busy watching the horror settle on my brother’s face.”

“I’m not horrified—” he protests.

“You are.”

“Am not!”

“Am too!”

“As a neutral bystander,” Leo pipes up, trying not to openly laugh, “yes, you are.”

You keep your eyes focused on Raphael and not the car. “Look,” you cut in, “are you gonna let him do his job or nah?”

“I’m not promi—“

“The hell you ain’t” He shot a furious look at his younger brother. “You best not breathe on Donnie before the roach is back in the car and as far away from that fuckin’ ooze as possible!”

“Reassuring,” you nod. “Good.”

“If you’re so worried about Donnie messing up,” Leo suggests, “why don’t you use the remote control? You’ve watched him work with it before, right?”

You scoff. “I’d rather chop off my hands with a dull knife than get in the death mobile.”

The other two brothers antagonize each other. “It’s not that bad.”

“Isn’t it, though?” You cross your arms, a sick feeling sinking into your stomach at the thought. “Never mind the fact the lead engineer is a teenage boy, or that it’s made of the finest trash, but it’s also a moving, mechanical vehicle driven by another— and I mean this with the utmost respect— rowdy hormonal teenager.”

“Hey,” he protests, “that’s not true.”

“Karai.”

His face heats up. “It was a mistake that I’ve already owned up to.”

You put your hands up. “Look, man,” you clarify, smiling as the crisis is thoroughly averted, “I don’t blame you. Karai isn’t exactly a dime a dozen, and we can all agree she is an extremely formidable fighter who can thoroughly kick your ass.”

Donnie is getting a run for his money with this blush. “What does— she cannot,” he stammers, “and even if she could—“

“Oh, do not even,” you tease. “We all know that her being a formidable opponent who knows every weapon in her arsenal like the back of her hand and uses them well has something to do with why you like her so much. Raph’s the same way.”

Speak of the devil. “What’d you say?”

“You have a thing for strong women who can probably kick your ass.”

He seems to consider this for a minute. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Cool. Anyways.” You turn your attention back to Leo. “The point is, as someone who is also into people who can kick my ass— literally or academically— I get the appeal. Also,” you add, grinning like a moron, “her eyeliner game is on point, which doesn’t hurt.”

He blinks. “Do you like Karai?”

“Absolutely. One hundred and ten percent.” You shrug. “She’s badass.”

“More so than Donnie?”

“Are you guys ever going to get in or are you guys just going to stand out there all night?” Donnie pokes his head out of the vehicle. “We’re losing darkness.”

'Saved by the bell.' “Point is,” you say quickly, “I don’t want in that thing. Couldn’t pay me.”

“Leo! Hurry up!”

“Comin’!” He climbs into the Shellraiser, wheels spinning as the team drove off and out of the lair.

You close your eyes.

You do not want to go to Hamato Yoshi for therapy. You will bet money it does not go well.

‘You promised, though. Might as well have, anyways. Did you promise?’

Your morals and ideologies completely clash.

‘Ninjas aren’t all rendered insane. They have to be doing something right, in theory.’

You use the wall for support, already knowing the walk home is going to suck as you limp towards the dojo.

Table of Contents

Chapter 12

Chapter 14

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lunarliza · 4 years

Text

JJ Maybank Must Die | Chapter 4: Oysters

fuckboy!JJ x Reader

series masterlist | prev. chapter | chapter one

JJ Maybank is the island’s most infamous fuckboy- not that you ever cared. But when a group of tourist girls come to your surf shop crying to you about him, you agree to help them plot revenge. Sabotage is all fun and games, until you find that the playboy you were sworn to ruin happens to be falling head over heels for you.

Yes, this is based on John Tucker Must Die lol

Sure enough, JJ arrived at your house at seven o’clock sharp.

Your mom answered the door and let him in while you hung back in your room, finishing the last touches to your outfit. Granted, you got home late from the shack and only had twenty minutest to get ready.

You stuck on Sophia’s gold hoop earrings and sprayed a bottle of cheap lavender perfume you got during White Elephant one year.

“Alright,” you rasped, entering the living room in a white puff-sleeved sundress, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

You meant it. You wanted to be there and back as soon as humanly possible.

JJ stood from your couch. He did clean up well, you had to admit. His usual ripped cargo shorts and chopped-sleeve tanks were replaced with an ironed navy polo and khakis. You even noticed that he even brushed his hair for once.

“Well, it’s nice to finally see you out of a red bathing suit,” he greeted with a small smile, “You look really nice y/n.”

With his hand on the small of your back, he led you out the front door after you bid your parents goodbye.

“Where are we going again?” you asked as JJ clutched the steering wheel of his dad’s old truck. He originally tried to reach for your thigh when you first got in, but you swatted his hand away before he even got the chance.

“The Wreck,” he replied, turning up the rap song on the stereo to a deafening volume.

You let out an incredulous scoff. “Are you serious? Good luck getting a table at this time. It’ll be packed! It’s seven on a Friday night. We’ll be waiting at least two hours.”

JJ threw you a cocky smirk, still eyeing the road. “Don’t doubt me yet, princess, I have my ways.”

The two of you entered the packed restaurant, and you couldn’t contain the bewilderment that hung on your face. It was like walking into a herd of wild chickens. As soon as JJ swung open the door, people were on the verge of hurdling out the doorway.

“This is insane, JJ,” you gasped, stepping into the sea of grumbling hungry people, “Honestly, we can just try somewhere else.”

“Don’t worry,” he emphasized again, “I got it.”

Heaving through the mob, you finally made it to the hostess stand as you stood behind JJ. The man behind the podium crinkled his nose in disgust once he caught sight of your date. “You again.”

JJ flashed the man his usual shit-eating grin. “Kiara said she reserved a spot for me, for two,” he mentioned proudly.

Begrudgingly, the man yanked out two menus. “Yes, she did mention that one of her hooligan friends was coming in tonight,” he deepened his glare at the blonde, “This way.”

He motioned for the two of you to follow and led you to a hidden room just outside the kitchen with a small table set for two. The ruckus from the main floor was muffled through the walls and the lighting was slightly dim.

“Wow,” you peered around the romantic set up, “So this is where you take all your girls.”

Your date scoffed, about to protest, until you cut him off. “And don’t give me that lame ‘you’re the first one I’ve ever brought here’ line cause I know I’m not.”

That shut him up real quick as he basically plopped down in his chair and whipped open the menu without another word. You heard Kiara’s dad snort under his breath before exiting the room. It felt good to put the player in his place for once.

A server came by shortly to fill your fancy glasses with water and placed a basket of assorted bread on the candle-lit table. You all but hounded at the sight of carbs, taking huge unladylike bites.

In your defense, you hadn’t eaten at all that day. Your stomach was basically rumbling in the car under JJ’s thundering rap playlist.

“So,” JJ continued, ignoring your minorly disturbing eating habits, “I heard the Sea-Side Salad here is really good.”

Salad?

Your face knotted. He really must be ingesting too much salt water if he thought you were looking anywhere in the salad section of your menu.

“Yeah, I’m not really feeling any of these light options,” you stated, flipping through the pages.

It was his turn to be baffled. “Really? Well, all the girls you’ve claimed I’ve taken here have ordered it,” he scratched the back of his head, “What are you in the mood for then?”

Your eyes scanned through the seafood courses. Technically, you were being forced to go on this date against your wishes. Why not get all you can out of it? Make his pockets hurt. Besides, he did take you to the best seafood restaurant on the entire island.

“I’m feeling oysters and maybe some crab legs. Ooh, I didn’t even see the calamari,” you continued, “Okay, let’s get calamari, four pounds of oysters, crab legs, and fried shrimp to finish.”

JJ shut his menu loudly with a ear-to-ear grin stretched on his face. “You got it, princess.”

All around, your table flooded with various scrumptious dishes as you and JJ dug in to your feast. Maybe pretend-dating this boy wasn’t so bad after all. Your stomach certainly wasn’t opposed.

He giggled when you accidentally splotched cocktail sauce on your cheek, gesturing for you to wipe it. You tried to reach for the spot, but that only caused more red sauce to smear on your face. JJ fell back in his chair laughing and stretched over with his napkin to take care of it for you.

To your surprise, JJ actually marveled at your colorful palette, impressed by how you were able to scarf down all your food without an ounce of regret or a smudge on your white dress.

“So besides working, what else do you like to do around here?” he asked, stuffing his face with shrimp.

“Not much else, really,” you confessed, “Sometimes I’ll get together with friends after work. But I basically live at the shop. I’m actually trying to save up for a new car.”

He nodded as you swiped the last oyster before he could see, chowing it down. “You know, I’ve never met anyone who could surf like you. I told my friends about the pipeline the other day and they didn’t believe me! We should’ve filmed it or something.”

You chuckled. “Pipelines are tough, but they’re fun as hell once you figure it out.”

He leaned back in his seat. “I bet. How’d you start surfing?”

“My mom was really good at it when she was younger. She taught me when I was six, and I guess it just stuck.”

“My parents taught me too,” JJ added, “My family’s all about that surfing, fishing, sailing life. It’s in our blood. But hey, you should come surf with me and my friends one day. They’ll lose their shit when they see what you can do.”

“I’ll think about it,” you lied. You were flattered at his compliment, but if this sabotage mission was going to be executed according to schedule, you’d be done with him by July.

Your server came by afterwards to clear your table and drop off the check. After paying what you presumed to be a ginormous bill, JJ linked his fingers with yours and led you out the packed establishment.

He offered to take you for ice cream after, but at the point, you both were too full to take another bite of anything.

In the car ride back, he talked just about the entire way while you hummed absentmindedly and stared out the window. JJ rambled on and on about parties, smoking, and how him and his friends vowed to have the best summer of their lives. It was nice and all, but you really weren’t that interested and were too deep in your food coma to fake listen.

Seeing as you became less and less responsive to his stories, JJ reached across the truck to your leg. A soft smile hung on his lips when you turned to him.

“I had a really good time tonight, y/n,” he murmured, stroking your knee.

You cocked a brow at the blonde. “You did?”

“Definitely. I mean, I’ve never seen anyone chow down on oysters the way you did. And I like that you have a big appetite. And you aren’t afraid of trying new things. It’s hot.”

Hm. Interesting.

“Thanks,” you replied quietly as he pulled into your driveway. He shut off the engine and turned to you, the sound of your uneven breaths filling the car air.

“You know,” he began, “I’ve been thinking a lot about the party last week.”

You cocked your brow. “You have? Why?”

“I dunno. It was really weird how you just like ran off. Made me really curious about you. You seemed so confident and everything. I mean, after that, I knew I had to go after you.”

“I’m still not having sex with you,” you blurted.

“Y/n,” he assured, smoothly taking your hand, “I’m not just interested in sleeping with you.”

Somehow, you weren’t convinced. But for the sake of the operation, you played along. “Then what are you looking for with me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, I’m not so sure. But I do really like hanging out with you.”

As if you’ve never heard that one before. You wanted to groan. He really just gave you every fuckboy’s favorite line.

“Well alright then,” you said a bit hastily and unbuckled your seatbelt, “It’s late and should really get going. Thank you again for dinner.”

“Uh, yeah, goodnight...”

You saw a hint of desperation on his face as you turned to leave and paused. Sighing, you whirled around, reaching for his forearm that propped on the armrest.

You gently pressed your lips on his for a moment while his large hand caressed the side of your face. It was sweet kiss. It left JJ aching for more when you pulled away.

“When will I see you again?” he murmured as you started hopping out the truck.

You merely shrugged. “Not sure yet. I’ll let you know when I’m free. Goodnight Loverboy.”

Strolling back into your house, you knew you had JJ right where you wanted him. You didn’t even need to look back to know he was sitting back in his seat, completely mesmerized.

When you flicked on the light of your room, you shrieked in alarm as four pairs of eyes practically laser-beamed at you like bats in the dark.

“What the fuck guys?!” you shouted.

“Your mom let us in earlier,” Soph mentioned casually, lounging on your bed.

“How’d the test run date go?” Maia asked as Arabella and Annalise pried through your closet.

“It was good, we went to The Wreck,” you informed, slipping out of your wedges. You patted on your food baby. “You know, I don’t mind going on more of these if free food is in the picture.”

Arabella held one of your sundresses to her front-side, posing in your mirror. “Did he say anything about a second date?”

“He asked when he’s gonna see me again. I don’t know why. All I did was ignore him the whole time and inhale my food. Anyways, what ploys did you guys come up with while I was gone?”

Annalise sent a devious grin your way and pulled up the notes on her phone for you to see. “This was just from our brainstorm sesh. Most of them were Arabella’s ideas. We were waiting for you to vote on the top five.”

The redhead flipped her hair at the mention of her name.

Your eyes bulged at the extensive, brutal list. “Spray paint car... women’s lingerie... estrogen pills? How the hell are we gonna do all this in two weeks?”

“Relax,” Sophia prodded, “The guy’s basically head over heels for you. Just keep your charming and unavailable act up and let us take care of the rest!”

Just then, you heard your phone ding from your purse. It was a text from JJ.

Just wanna say sweet dreams princess. I’ll def be dreaming about you. Anyways, movies on Tuesday? Heard Ironic Man was pretty good :)

----------------------------------

“So you excited for this? My friends said it was super good and there’s a mind-fuck at the end,” JJ rambled as he led you up the dark steps of the semi-crowded theatre.

“Yeah, I love Tony Park,” you replied nonchalantly, hugging the snacks.

No surprise, he booked you guys the very last row. You settled down the drinks and jumbo popcorn bucket while he lifted the seat’s arm that divided you two. He proceeded to wiggle his brows suggestively. You were glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see your face cringing for dear life.

Plopping down beside him, you immediately dug into the popcorn as the previews rolled. He grinned and reached for your thigh. “How was work today babe?”

“Pretty good,” you perked a little, “I signed three new clients and even taught this sixty-year-old lady how to do a cutback!”

“Mhm,” he mumbled, clearly not paying attention to anything that came out of your mouth. Inching closer, his lips trailed up your neck before he began nibbling on your ear.

From the side stairway, you detected four familiar heads prance up the steps with giant hoodies shielding their faces. They slid into the row before yours, trying to to muffle their giggles with their sleeves.

Amateurs.

Briefly, you caught Maia’s sly wink before the group sat down. On cue, you shoved your horny date off you.

“Hey JJ,” you whispered sultrily, placing a palm on his chest.

“Hm?”

“Do you think you can grab me some sour candy from the concessions? I totally forgot to grab them when we were there. Like, I can’t watch a movie without them.” Your lips jutted out into a convincing pout.

“Yeah sure, of course.” The blonde jogged down the sides and out the door just as Maia bent over the back of her seat and hurdled onto your row.

“Okay Black Widow, way to stay under the radar,” you commented on her ungraceful maneuver as she fished out a small bottle from her jacket pocket.

“What? This makes me feel like I’m in Mission Impossible. We’re basically spies now.” She popped open the cap and sprinkled some powder into JJ’s drink.

“Wait, what’s in that again?”

Maia smirked. “Oh, just a little... surprise for our favorite fuck boy. Just steer clear of him in like thirty minutes.”

She quickly flipped back over the row just as JJ’s bright yellow hair popped back into the theatre with your sweets. Your palms were sweating in anticipation.

Throughout the movie, JJ’s hands roamed your body as you obliviously munched on the candy. He constantly kissed on your neck and told you how cute you were, earning glares and shushes from the people around you.

After about thirty minutes, you noticed his leg restlessly fidgeting up and down.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, leaning away from him.

“Y-Yeah, j-just-”

His eyes all but darted out his face. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. “Oh fuck.”

Instantly, he charged out the room at an inhuman pace while the quad in front of you erupted in laughter just as an important character died on screen.

“Guys, what the hell did you put in his drink?” you rasped, leaning over.

“Oh you know,” Annalise responded through her snickers, “Just a nice little laxative.”

-------------------------------

note: more sabotage to come ;) also pls message me if you want to be tagged

chapter 5

tags: @obxlife @rudyypankow @yeehaw87 @ilymarkchan @jellyfishbeansontoast @tangledinsparkles @toloveortobeinlove @pixelated-pogues @normatural @teamnick @drizzlethatfalls @hazelgirl355 @wicked-laugh @jjmaybankswife @ponyboys-sunsets @5am-cigarette @everydayimfangirling @angvelics @poguecollins @xealia @floridabornandraised @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @booksandshish @apoguecalledjj @bananasfromtarget @lulbabes @arthiriticcricket @lasnaro @aaleksmorozova @himarisolace @obxmxybxnk @lopineapples @x-lulu

#outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #john b obx #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx #jj obx #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine

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teresa-of-ficwill · 3 years

Text

In the name of love (Geraskier)

Summary: Jaskier did not remember where but one day he heard a proverb that said something like "if you fall in love with a witcher - you will die." Then he considered it utter stupidity but now... It turned out that it was not just a proverb.

Or the story of why witchers don't fall in love.

The count begins

Jaskier couldn’t say when it started exactly. When Geralt became not just a fellow traveler; not just a source of inspiration; and not just his main income but someone who mattered. Mattered a lot. Julian couldn’t remember, no matter how hard he tried, when exactly he began to be torn between the choice: to write a ballad about the exploits of the witcher or a love song to him. Jaskier was careful, of course. Singing about the love of an abstract girl for a very specific witcher is not so difficult, so he used this light image without a twinge of conscience.

In fact, Julian was not timid in matters of the heart but in the situation, with Geralt, he preferred to kept silent. Jaskier understood perfectly well that the witcher didn’t look like a person who needed a relationship. No, of course, Jaskier didn't need it either. But it was before… before he fell in love with Geralt.

Julian had plenty of sex in his life: he was in demand not only among women but also among men of different ages and wealth but just having sex gets boring with time. It happens sometimes. You fall in love and suddenly you want something more than an affair for one night or a few weeks. You want kisses, hugs, warm words, and confidence that the person you love will be by your side no matter what.

Jaskier wanted all this. At first, these desires were unconscious and sometimes slipped into his mind but they could be ignored. Well… no more. He was in love. He was in love so much that when Geralt once again opened the doors of the house of tolerance, Jaskier felt all the shades of such inappropriate jealousy. He could follow the witcher and take a girl or boy for the night in order to somehow distract himself, but Julian didn’t want to. He didn't want just sex anymore. He wanted love. And who would have thought that this would be the greatest tragedy of his life?

“I love you,” without any prefaces, without an introduction and even without a hint of logic Jaskier said when they once again spend the night in the forest. He had no idea why he was doing this because only recently he vowed to be silent about his feelings forever. But Jaskier, to be honest, has never been a consistent person. He kept his promises and vows but not in front of himself. He was always careful but only if it was not about Geralt. In general, if you think about it, he was a rather controversial person.

The witcher looked up from the fire and raised an eyebrow, apparently expecting a continuation but there wasn’t any. Because the only thing Jaskier was capable of now was to maintain silence and somehow keep the violently beating heart in his chest.

“Repeat,” Geralt said and his voice sounded rougher than it should. Julian twitched his head slightly.

“I love you,” he repeated and silence hung up in the air again. For the first time in his life, he had nothing more to say. And this, perhaps, said a lot.

Previously, it wasn’t difficult for him to talk about his love for a certain lady for hours, just to drag her into bed, but when it came to Geralt Jaskier simply had no words. Not a single sensible thought in his head, except for the one that he had already said, but in it was all the sincerity of his bardic soul which he spent in vain in his youth. It contained all his feelings, all his jealousy, all the despair that was inside him.

He gave himself up completely, without a trace, by just one simple phrase which was customary to underestimate. He allowed the hellfire to get into the forest of his soul and burn it to the ground, not missing a single tree. He opened up in some desperate hopelessness to a man whose silence was hurting more and more with every passing second. Like a red-hot knife between his ribs but Jaskier liked the pain too much to pull it out.

“Do not waste words.”

“I have no more words.”

There was a strange tingling sensation in his wrist but Jaskier was too busy with a fire in his forest to notice. Geralt looked at him without taking his eyes off as if he was looking for something. Studying him. As if looking for a catch where it cannot be by definition. As if waiting for a pod from someone who was not capable of it.

“I'll hurt you.”

“I'm already hurting.”

Julian used to like this feeling but now it was too serious to enjoy. Now it was like a punishment, a load, a fragment of an accidentally broken mirror stuck in his heart. Everything was changing so quickly that even Jaskier couldn’t keep track of it. When did sympathy turn into love? When did it happen? When did it start to hurt? He didn’t understand. All his consciousness was enveloped in a haze, as if in delirium. As if he was dying. Does love feel like this?

He remembered deciding that he wanted a relationship, that he wanted to be happy. So, at what point in time did it start to hurt? It hurt without reciprocity and Geralt was like treatment. A medicine that wasn’t available to him.

“It’s already started, huh?” asked the witcher in such a tone as if he were signing a death warrant for Julian.

Jaskier scratched his wrist. He didn't know what Geralt was talking about but whatever it was it had already begun. His brain was in a fog, the feelings hurt, he needed treatment.

Julian missed the moment when the witcher walked around the fire and sat down next to him.

“It’s my fault,” the man said, taking Jaskier’s hands in his. “If I had not loved you, this wouldn’t have happened to you,” Geralt rolled up the sleeve on the bard's left hand. He looked down. Dark blue, swollen veins covered his wrist, lightly touching his palm, and climbed further up the arm. They took up a little, only a third of the forearm but the bard understood that it would be getting only worse. He couldn’t know for sure but he guessed with some tenth sense. It would only get worse from now on.

Julian had a poor understanding of what was happening because his head began to ache. Any thoughts caused pain and consciousness floated away, not allowing him to focus on anything.

“Will I die?”

“I'm sorry.”

Jaskier wanted to say that he was sorry too but thinking was so damn hard. For some reason, death didn’t frighten him. He felt like on drugs, everything around him seemed unimportant. Everything except Geralt.

“When?”

“When the poison reached the heart.”

Julian nodded but he didn't understand much. He should have had a dozen of questions but there was not a single one in his head. He felt bad. He couldn’t think.

“It hurts,” Buttercup whispered, feeling tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t cry. Well… he didn’t want to. His consciousness was too cloudy to control his body.

“Let me help,” Geralt asked and the bard nodded, not understanding what he was agreeing to at all but now it didn't matter. Nothing else was important except the witcher sitting near him.

The man leaned forward, their lips met and Julian took a truly deep breath for the first time in an unknown amount of time. His head cleared slightly when he answered, tangling his fingers in Geralt's hair. The witcher growled and pulled him closer, wrapping his strong arms around him. He kissed roughly as if the man was angry with him but Jaskier knew he wasn’t. The pain in the head dulled and the body begged for more. A lot more. The bard wanted Geralt inside; as deep as possible; as close as their bodies would allow.

The witcher ripped off the bard's clothes without worrying about its integrity. It was pretty cool outside but Jaskier didn't feel - Jaskier was in a fever. The pain that seized his whole body went away with each new kiss, with each new mark, with each new breath that they shared.

Geralt prepared him quickly, took roughly but, for the bard, this felt like the best sensations in the world. The pain was replaced by pleasure and there was just as much of it as there was pain before. Julian moaned as loudly as he could, cut off his voice, scratched the witcher's back, and seemed to be going crazy. Everything was on fire inside but it was a good fire. The fire that warmed, not the fire that burned.

Conscious returned almost completely when Jaskier came. Geralt made a couple of deep thrusts and came next, pressing their lips together. The world was no longer shrouded in a haze but consciousness was still floating somewhere, allowing fatigue to take over. The bard remembered how the witcher hugged him and covered them both with a blanket so that they do not freeze at night, and then there was a blissful emptiness.

To be continued

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