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inafieldofdaisies · 9 months

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WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @direwombat ❤️

Midweek check-in. We're jumping into Chapter 3 of John and Sabrina's AU with a little snippet where he's doing a great job of picking flowers for her while Leslie and Oliver become partners in crime.

A faint ringing pulled John out of his slumber, making him turn on his side away from the sunlight coming into the room through the half-open curtains. When the sound persisted, he reached a hand to the nightstand and grabbed the hotel room phone's receiver, holding it up to his ear, face still buried in his pillow. "Hello?", he croaked out, voice raspy. "Mr. Duncan, there's a delivery in the lobby for you." "What time is it?" "10 am, sir.", the man on the other line announced matter-of-factly. Of course. His usual alarm hadn't woken him up, resulting in him oversleeping, but reality was that he was stuck in another city with a cleared out schedule. He suspected by the following Friday, he wouldn't know what to do with himself, deemed a workaholic by many. Still, compared to everything else he had faced so far, that predicament seemed insignificant. "I will be right down in a bit." He quickly freshened up after the call ended, and with a final look at the vase with flowers the bat had knocked down the previous night, he left the room.

Downstairs, the lobby was relatively busy, his gaze running over the guests piling in and out of the hotel as he approached the welcome desk. "Morning.", he uttered out in a greeting, reminding himself he needed to grab a coffee. "Morning.", the younger man at the reception echoed back. "I was told there's a delivery for me." "Yes, yes.", he gestured to a couple of bags behind the counter, "Would you like me to call someone to help you with those?" "No.", John retorted quickly, feeling in no mood to interact with people so soon after waking up, "I wanted to ask…" "Yes, Mr. Duncan?" "Are there any flower shops you would recommend?" The man wasted no time in retrieving a notepad and jotting down an address for him, "It's three blocks away, most of our guests use their services." "Thank you."

With the small piece of paper tucked safely into his pocket, he picked up the bags and divided them between his hands, which in turn made pressing the button to call the elevator a challenge. "We meet again.", a hand appeared to his right and did it for him before the woman he had run into at the prison moved next to him as they waited for the elevator to arrive. "Ms. Donovan." A smirk marred her face while she went to fix her hair that wasn't out of place to begin with, each auburn curl falling over her shoulders perfectly to a point it seemed unnatural, "Look at that, you remembered." Kind of hard not to, when you have the same last name as the woman I like. Like?

He ignored the word and sent her a polite smile as they stepped into the elevator. It was beyond obvious that Candice intentionally chose to stand closer to him, or as close as his purchases would allow in the empty space. The fact she immediately pressed the button to the third floor was another unpleasant sight. "Which floor, Mr. Duncan?" "Fifth.", he lied seamlessly, knowing it would be best if she didn't know his room number.

"How did your meeting go?", she asked and glaced at him from the corner of her eye. "It didn't. There was a setback." "Oh, my.", she exclaimed, curiosity seeping into her tone and making her bright green eyes light with intrigue, "That's awful, darling." John shook his head, his attention returning to the floor indicator, "Hardly something that would discourage me. I have a new appointment, so everything is in order, Ms. Donovan." "Well,", the doors pinged, signaling they had reached the third floor, and John had to remind himself he shouldn't exit despite his instinct telling him to, "if you do face any trouble… you can give me a call, and we will find a desirable solution, I pressume you still have my card." He pushed down the urge to snarl at how she said "desirable", the innuendo, and her intentions behind the "friendly" suggestion for help being as clear as day to him. She wanted to do him a favor, and in return, he'd be indebted to her. And if he had to bet, it wouldn't be as simple as spending a night in her bed. No, when a woman like Candice Donovan would sink her teeth into someone she had set her sights on, she wouldn't just let go, at least not before having her fill and certainly not without ripping out their throat once she was finished. "I appreciate that.", he forced another well-practiced grin as she stepped out and waved him an elegant goodbye. Her heels resonated down the long hallway as she strutted away from him, no doubt putting on a show. Everything about her appearance was adeptly selected: from her designer heels to the emerald green dress that accentuated her curves and showed enough cleavage to draw in a man's gaze while still keeping her pretense of class. John breathed out a sigh of relief when the doors closed, and he found himself on his own again. Fuck. Just what I needed… her being on the same floor. He knew without a shadow of a doubt he had to avoid Candice like the plague, even more after this lie and the way it could only further fuel the interest of someone like her.

Once the elevator got down to his floor again, he hurried back to his room, fearing with his luck, he would end up running into her if he took too long. He quickly dropped off his bags by the door and went back down to the lobby, making a stop at the reception on his way out. "Hello." "How can I help, sir?", the man's gaze shifted away from the monitor and up to him. John straightened his back, leaning against the desk in a pose he often used when addressing judges during sidebars and usually yielded success in whatever he was arguing, "I would like a room change." The hotel receptionist pursed his lips, "I'm afraid that won't be possible. We're fully booked, Mr. Duncan. Is there an issue with your room?" Against his better judgment, his hand strayed to his chin to rub his beard, something a trained eye like Candice's would take as a hint of weakness, "No. Thank you." He made a move to leave, then remembered the broken vase, "One more thing, yesterday night a bat flew in and knocked off a vase off the dining table." "I'm sorry, sir.", concern washed oved the man's features, "Is it still inside? Do I need to call animal control?" "No.", John couldn't help a prideful smile from emerging, "I made sure it made its way back out." Technically speaking, he had done just that. With some help at concocting a plan of action and further moral support from Sabrina. "I'm glad to hear that, sir." John left the hotel, convincing himself his streak of bad luck would eventually end, that making it to his destination without running into any trouble was doable.

A stroll in his new shoes felt like a mistake after almost getting drenched multiple times thanks to cars driving full speed through puddles formed after last night's late rain. Still, waiting on a driver God knew how long and then asking them to take him to a place that was within walking distance was a bit of an overkill, even for him. Breathing in some fresh air seemed like a good idea, too. A couple of minutes later, after almost passing the flower shop thanks to his thoughts hopelessly drifting back to Sabrina, John found himself in front of it just as a man pushed through its doors, seeming in quite the rush to leave. It didn't take long to figure out the reason for his hasty escape. The moment he entered the store, instead of the usual polite greeting he would have expected, he was met by a horror movie worthy shriek that pierced his ears before a bouquet flew at his head. The sudden sting in his forehead told him his hands weren't fast enough to stop the bundle of flowers in its tracks as shock overtook him. "You have the audacity to come back? After you break things off with me on OUR wedding day!", a female hollered his way as the bouquet landed at his feet, her eyes glazed over with anger to a point the mistaken identity hadn't even registered to her. The violent outburst was followed by tears that threatened to undo all the work her makeup artist must have put into her look, and the only thing he could do was blink in surprise when she flew past him, and out of the shop.

"Mister, are you okay?", a woman close to his age broke him out of his daze, "I'm so sorry." "I-", he shook his head and moved further in, overwhelmed by the mix of fragrances that attacked his senses, "I have no idea what just happened." "Wedding drama.", the woman sighed, focused on an arrangement she was working on. Assault more like it. And she fled the scene. "Anything catching your eye?", she spoke up again, finally shifting his attention to him fully as he regarded the premade bouquets and rolls of vases filled with various type of flowers. "A bouquet. Red roses. And I would like to have it delivered today." A part of him argued he had no idea what flowers Sabrina preferred, but red roses were the option he always went with and none of his past lovers ever seemed disappointed in the choice. Quite the opposite, in fact - the gesture inarguably yielded the desired result each time he would task Penny with sending them to a woman. Having a PA to take care of his every whim including sparing him the hassle to go down to the florist's personally certainly came in handy anytime he would cave in and entertain the side of him yearning for a female's touch, but after the drunk call, he was forced to make the trip himself for once. "You're in luck then, you caught our morning window for deliveries.", the florist announced as she began selecting roses for the bouquet. "How many roses, sir?" John paused, unsure of how many Penny would get normally, "60?" The woman bit back a smile, "It must be a special someone. I would advise trying to avoid getting it hurled at your person, though." "She is, yes. And I will keep that in mind." Especially for still entertaining me after getting a call in the middle of the night and staying on the phone while my room was under siege by a bat. But telling any of that to a stranger seemed like oversharing, so he settled for a simple answer instead. She reached underneath the counter and produced an empty card and a pen for him, "How about you fill this out for her while I'm preparing the bouquet?"

"Thank you.", the plain piece of paper in his hand gave him a pause, then his mind drifted back to the night Sabrina had given him a ride, "Do you by chance have a card with butterflies on it or something close?" The florist smiled as she set aside the roses she had gathered and crouched down behind the counter, presenting him with way too many options to choose from. "Ask me what I don't have.", she added with a laugh. His fingers shifted through the cards, each seeming way too colorful and like it would clash with the simple bouquet until he came across one that screamed Sabrina. The inky black butterfly catching his eye so much that looking at the others seemed pointless. "This one.", he announced then moved away to give her space to work on his bouquet and settled at the far end of the counter, leaning forward on his elbows as he contemplated what he should write inside. It was another thing Penny took care of for him. "You have such a way with words, John.", his date would whisper and stroke his hand, eyes full of awe while he'd smirk, not having the slightest clue what his PA had even written to begin with. He never bothered to ask, all he cared about was it was working. What do I say? Minutes ticked by where he came up empty after overthinking every idea that would pop up in his mind and deeming it inappropriate. Finally, he forced himself to put pen to paper, writing a simple, "Thank you for last night. - J"

Once the bouquet was finished and he paid for it, he left the shop, feeling content he had done something without Penny's help. The flowers were on their way to Sabrina's precinct, and his morning had started quite uneventful aside from encountering Candice and being hit in the face by a bouquet an angry soon-or-not-so-soon bride-to-be threw at him. He didn't want to think if that granted bad luck in opposition to catching it after a wedding ceremony. He crossed the road with his sights set on a small cafe across the street from the flower shop. He was going to have breakfast while he waited for Sabrina to call, the idea of their date fueling his good mood despite the dull pain in his temple.

"We're heading out, boys.", Graham Ross said as he and his partner at the Missing Persons Division, Vaughn, set on following up a lead. "Good luck.", Oliver retorted as the door shut behind them and he let out a yawn, spinning around in his chair to face Leslie, "So… you can tell me now." "Don't start, McKenzie." "What did she say?" Leslie sighed, "I just know you won't be able to keep your mouth shut, she knows it too, which is why,", he pointed at the younger detective, "she was hesitant to share anything about the guy in front of you." "I won't, pinky promise.", Oliver raised his pinky for good measure as he took a sip of coffee. "She likes him.", Parish hoped the shrug he gave was nonchalant enough, still trying to wrap his head around the fact Sabrina was showing interest in someone, let alone an attorney. "Look at you, stating the obvious. Give me something more, buddy, that's like telling me water's wet." He rubbed his neck, wondering how much was safe to disclose, but still knowing Oliver wouldn't do anything to actually hurt her, rather wanted his curiosity to be fed. "John", the name rolled off his tongue, leaving a bitter taste in its wake, "lifted one of her business cards so he can have her number and is now texting her." Oliver whistled, "See, I knew the whole "NOT MY GIRLFRIEND" had its intent. And Rina isn't creeped out?" "Nope."

He pursed his lips, "Who knew she'd go for a hotshot attorney from all people, especially with Candy being in that field. Though there was something about him that just seemed… off." Leslie snorted as he leaned back in his chair, "Off? As in?" "It was like his charm was only surface level. You will see when you meet him." "He asked her out.", Oliver raised an eyebrow at his words, "And not directly." "Meaning?" "Decided to act sleek and 'check' if she has any recommendations for lunch spots." "So smooth.", Oliver said, voice dripping with sarcasm and making him let out a laugh. "And she thought it was an innocent question, went as far to argue with me, Ollie… how he just wanted to eat somewhere nice. Couldn't look me in the eye when she finally saw his next text asking her to 'grab lunch'." McKenzie swiveled in his chair lightly, mug clutched between his hands as he contemplated the story, "Did she agree?" "No idea. We were in and out of interviews the whole day yesterday and by the time I got home, I pretty much passed out." "There's more, Parish…" Leslie shook his head, "Not really." "Sure, sure, and I was born yesterday." "I might have told her to go out with him." The confession made Oliver choke on his coffee, sputtering, "Come again." "You heard me."

"Jesus, Leslie.", he gave him a pitiful look, "You like her, why would you do that? You basically opened the door to someone else getting in her pants. Law pun not intended, but damn." "Ollie." "What? You think he won't be trying to? My bet is he was probably rubbing one out the second he was on his own." "I want her to be happy. And this… ain't giving me much hope for the guy." Oliver tsk-tsked in disapproval, "Just saying it how I see it. And you, my friend... need to get your shit together before someone else takes the empty spot in her life, same one you've been eyeing like a sad puppy since the moment she first walked in here. Then you can both be happy and I get to be your best man." "That ship has long sailed, we all know it." He got one of McKenzie's signature eyerolls, "And you don't know how to swim? Board that motherfucker, Parish." "I'm fine with my role, Ollie.", Leslie said eventually, "Plus. He has no chance in the long run." "Why's that?" "Rina's been waiting for someone." A chuckle escaped Oliver, "Aren't we all?" "And she's adamant about it. John just doesn't know he would be fighting a losing battle." Sabrina herself had told him as much when he had finally admitted he had feelings for her, confessing she wasn't over some man she had met long time ago, that she would never be. "Ooof, his poor ego." "Yeah. It would die a gruesome death."

Oliver opened his mouth to most likely crack another joke at the lawyer's expense when a knock sounded at the door before an young man peeked inside their division. "Morning. I have a delivery here.", he announced in a rush, "Flowers for a Miss Donovan? I was told to bring them up here by the front desk…" Leslie stared at the enormous bouquet of blood red roses he held, his expresson of disbelief no doubt matching Oliver's. McKenzie was the first the jump to his feet, and with his desk being the closest to the doorway, he erased the distance between it and the delivery guy in a couple of strides, "She's out, but I will take them." "Thank you.", the man passed him a cupboard from under his arm, "Sign here, please." Oliver scribbled his signature quickly, shooting a dramatic look towards Parish when he took the flowers in his hands. "Have a nice day.", the man called out and left as quickly as he had appeared. "There's a card in the sea of roses, Leslie.", McKenzie reported, eyes shining with dangerous curiosity. Leslie rose up from his seat and met him halfway, "Don't." But it was too late, Oliver had already transfered the bouquet to him as he plucked the card from it and opened it. "Boundaries, Ollie."

"'Thank you for last night, signed J.'", he read out loud, hollering a laugh at the last part, "Holy shit. He did not just-" "I could have gone without hearing that, Oliver.", Leslie ripped the card out of his fingers and shoved it back between a roll of roses, then turned, fully intending to place the flowers on her desk and forget about the words just read to him. Instead his feet carried him over to his own, and before he could think better of his actions or question what awful spell had fallen over him, he dropped the bouquet in the waste bin by it with a snarl. It was the black butterfly on the card that set him off and the realization it matched the two Sabrina had tattooed on her clavicle, proving "last night" could mean one thing. Oliver let out a laugh, gaze casted downward, "Jesus, talk about an extra fucker, it can’t even fit halfway in the trashcan. How many roses do you think that is? And do we think he's compensating for something else with the size of that bouquet?" "An extensive number. Blatant overkill. He's showing off, plain and simple." "Yeah. The card couldn't be more on the nose, either." "Don't remind me.", Leslie gritted out and pushed the flowers further in with his shoe, "What kind of man sends flowers to a woman with that message? At her workplace." "Maybe… it's not what it looks like?", Oliver didn't sound convinced by his own words at all, "Yeah, who am I kidding." "And she'd hate it.", it was a matter of fact statement, "Roses aren't even her favorite."

"Board that ship, because that fucker is already at the helm. But worry not, we can wash away his look of victory when we throw him back into the ocean." "You sure are going hard for those pirate metaphors, Ollie." "You started it." "What are you two up to?", Sabrina's voice made both of them jump in surprise as Leslie reacted quickly and kicked the waste bin under his desk before sinking back into his chair like nothing had happened. Oliver followed suit by taking a seat at the edge of his desk, his body obstructing her view of the flowers further. She made her way to her desk, clutching a folder close to her chest, completely oblivious to the fact they had done something bad. Sabrina faced them with a small smile, and Leslie didn't dare to wonder if it was thanks to her night with- No. Don't go there. "Lab's finally done. We got a match, now only to put out a BOLO.", she was beaming with those news, "We're getting closer, Leslie." Oliver and Leslie shared a look while she shrugged off her coat and sat down, turning her computer back on. "You're both awfully quiet. What happened?" "Nothing.", Parish said first. McKenzie in turn crossed his arms over his chest, sending a knowing smirk his way before asking, "So how was your night, Rina?" "Hmm?", Sabrina glanced at him briefly, feigning confusion, "Boring?" "That so?" "Yeah.", the fact her gaze remained glued to her monitor didn't help matters while Oliver pushed for more intel despite a warning kick from Leslie. "Boring how?"

"What are you up to, Oliver?" "Just answer the question, Sabrina.", Oliver retorted playfully, "We're bonding." She rolled her eyes, but entertained his excuse, "Boring as in, it's what I do every night - went home, made Sav dinner, crashed for the night." Silence took over the room, filled only by the clicking of her keyboard as she put up the BOLO for their suspect, and Leslie almost spilled his coffee over his jeans when Oliver broke it, "And what about our lawyer friend?" "John?" "Yes. You have any other lawyers thirsting for your attention?" "Hilarious. What about him?" Did you see him last night? Why is he sending you an obnoxious number of flowers as the most distasteful display of gratitude for sleeping with him? Thankfully, neither of them asked her that, instead Oliver went for a safer question, "Heard from him yet?" Sabrina groaned, "Leslie, you told him, didn't you?" "That he asked you out for lunch?", he wiggled his eyebrows, "Sure, he snitched, you can spank him for it later, but it wouldn't have been too hard to figure out on my own, Rina. My senses were tingling from the second the rich fucker walked in to report his luggage stolen." "Fuck.", she uttered out suddenly, pushing back her chair as she rummaged through her bag for something until she pulled out her phone, "Lunch. I will be right back." "Leslie.", Oliver whispered under his breath as they watched her rush out of the room, "I think it won't be as easy as throwing him overboard, matey. I haven't seen her run like that for anything that's not a case update."

Leslie's eyes narrowed, hating he was voicing the exact thing he had noticed, and the hand McKenzie rested on his shoulder for moral support. "Chin up, buddy.", his lips quirked up, "For what it's worth, he can take her out on a date, but you can take him out, literally. And me... I own a shovel." The door opening again prompted Oliver to resume his previous pose against the desk as Sabrina returned and put her coat back on. "Where are you off to, Rina?", he sing-songed, twirling one of Leslie's pens between his fingers. "Uh,", she cleared her throat, "I'm going out for lunch, guys." The announcement resulted in another pointed look from him aimed at Parish while Sabrina herself seemed far away, probably already out of the building in her mind. When neither said anything out loud, she bit her lip, growing uncertain, "I will be at Rue's, watching my phone like a hawk in case anything comes up from the BOLO… If you two don't think I-" "Go.", Leslie interrupted her, "You have to eat, Rina. We will keep an eye out." She nodded and shot him a smile and a small wave at Oliver as she left. "Have fun.", Oliver shouted after her before turning to Leslie, "Look at that, I'm suddenly hungry myself. Rue's sounds just divine right now." "Ollie. Don't.", Leslie's voice rose, already foreseeing the chaos the plan would cause and how it could ruin Sabrina's date with the lawyer. John. He was dreading even thinking about his name now. Oliver hoped off his desk and grabbed his own jacket, "I'm doing this alone, Parish, don't worry. A little recon. Fucker will be walking the plank in no time."

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @poisonedtruth @madparadoxum @wrathfulrook @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @shellibisshe @shegetsburned @jillvalentinesday @cassietrn @purplehairsecretlair @voidika @theelderhazelnut @v0idbuggy @chazz-anova @florbelles @corvosattano @nightbloodbix @euryalex @clicheantagonist @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries @strangefable @dumbassdep and anyone with something to share ❤️

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bknyght · 1 year

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Wenclair this, Wyler that.

Wavier over there, WenClay to the left.

a splash of Wednesday x no one.

I’m so curious. Did y’all not watch the same show as me? How are you guys fighting over all these ships when the answer is right in front of your eyes? It was so blatantly clear who Wednesday is gonna end up with. They made it so obvious.

We all know Wednesday’s true love is...

Kent.

#this is a shitpost #but like what if this happened #what a fucking twist that would be #crack ship ftw #writers woulda pulled one over us all #wenclair #wyler #wavier #wenclay #aro/ace wednesday #what would be their ship name #addent?#kensday?#something about the genius x absolute dumbass pair

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victorstoleyourorgans · 9 days

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weird crackship I had.

lol I can imagine Wednesday immediately finding his actually face super attractive. He gets all nervous and worried she’ll think he’s ugly but then when he takes off his mask she becomes like smitten and says something like “your hideous…I love it”

#Sally face #Wednesday #Crack ship #Sketch

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shushu3991 · 1 year

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…merely fascinated and intrigued.

We hear you Wednesday.😏

Got inspired because someone on a tumblr post (I couldn’t find it again, so if one of you guys feels addressed, thank you so much for the inspiration!) stated that Wednesday would totally have a Helga-Pataki-like shrine of Xavier and it has been one of my favorite headcanons since. 😂

#wenvier #wavier #wenthrope #seersquared #xavier and wednesday #xavier x wednesday #wednesday x xavier #wednesday and xavier #wednesday addams #xavier thorpe #wednesday netflix #wednesday 2022 #wenvier endgame #they are endgame #ship post #this is crack

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wenclairswoe · 1 year

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chaotic wenclair, on crack, if you will…?

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stripeixii · 4 months

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How to talk to short people:

NO ❌

YES ✔

I accidentally slept all day but uuuuh it Wednesday so

#fnaf #fnaf ar #fnaf vr #fnaf hw #fnaf sd #fnaf jeremy #fnaf luis #fnaf vr jeremy #fnaf ar luis #fnaf hw jeremy #fnaf sd luis #luis cabrera #red flag gaming #crack ship wednesday #lmao #rainydraws #rabbs recovery

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schrijverr · 5 months

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It Just Hits Different When It’s Batman

5 times a League member heard Batman use slang + 1 time they knew where the fuck he got it from.

This fic is based off this post by @wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday bc it was just too good! Hope you don't mind :D

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

1. Flash

Barry is pretty sure he has to get his hearing checked as he speeds through a city, trying to find a series of bombs, courtesy of a new alliance of villains. He and Batman are on bomb duty, thus sharing a private com line as to not distract the others or be distracted as they coordinate.

However, Barry is very much distracted by his own partner in this whole mess, because unless he’s gotten a few too many hits to the head in recent years, he’s pretty sure Batman just reported: “The bombs look like yassified thermos flasks.”

“What?” Barry chokes, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does.

Batman doesn’t seem to notice, instead explaining the bomb, not his wording: “The casing looks to be made from plastic, likely to escape Superman’s notice. Start checking water pipes, I found this one near a toilet. I’ll report again once I figure out how to disarm it.”

Okay, questing his sanity later, finding bombs, now.

So he zooms off again, having to agree with the fact that the bomb does look like a yassified thermos flask. He wonders if he can use that in his report or if Batman will scold him for language. He has worked with the man for long enough that he knows Batman isn’t above hypocrisy.

Then he wonders again if he even heard it right. In the heat of battle, the brain sometimes does weird things, especially when someone thinks at the speed of light. Or faster.

He’ll put it out of his mind for now, maybe tell Hal about it just so he’ll have someone to share the bizarre experience with.

Clark probably has a thesaurus, he should probably also find a synonym for yassified. Does a thesaurus have slang too?

2. Green Lantern

It’s true that Barry had told him about Spooky saying yassified in that one battle, but Hal hadn’t truly believed that Bats was capable of something like that. I mean, look at him. The guy might be a weirdo who dresses up as a Bat, but he’s not a weirdo who says shit like yassified.

However, at the moment it is starting to look more and more likely. Fuck, Barry is gonna give him so much crap for not believing him.

The moment in question is Batman working with him on the stealth mission. It’s one for the Green Lantern Corps, so Batman is doing him a favor. Though Hal is starting to wish that he hadn’t done him that favor, because Batman has just said: “It looks like Luthor is being thristy for Superman again. For someone who hates the guy, he sure wants his attention a lot. That’s Kryptonian honing device.”

Hal doesn’t react, still thinking about the fact that he’s just heard Luthor, thirsty and Superman in one sentence. In Batman’s voice no less.

“What?” he says.

“A Kryptonian honing device,” Batman repeats, sounding as if he thinks Hal is stupid, not uncommon. “So he can hone in on Superman, find him. Something we need to do something about.”

Hal decides to take the smart way out and lets the whole thing drop in favor of focusing on the mission. He’s not just telling Barry, but Ollie about this as well.

3. Cyborg

Being in the Justice League isn’t much different than being on the Teen Titans. Like right now, being in a building that could explode at any moment unless he hacks into the system and stops that from happening.

Ah, good old life-threatening pressure.

Batman is fighting some of the goons in the background. They’re on their own here, with the others fighting through an army outside to get to them. But it’s mostly up to them. Batman yells: “Cyborg, status.”

“I’m getting through, but something is bugging me about this whole thing,” Victor calls back. “I think there is someone I’m missing that will allow me to crack this.”

There are a few grunts in the background as Batman fights on, while Victor starts to scan through everyone who worked for the organization, trying to find the missing link.

He is interrupted by Batman, who says: “I took a tour here once. There was an intern, Kyle Paulson, he was kind of sus. Look him up.”

For a second, Victor is thrown by the sus in that sentence, but he quickly focuses back on what’s important. Indeed finding Kyle to be the missing link that gets him to disarm the bomb. While Batman is taking out the last of the bad guys.

In fact, the whole thing slips his mind until he’s writing his mission report, going through the footage to get accurate information in there. Then he pauses again, before dismissing it. Those who trained under Batman are always prepared, maybe it’s not slang but shorthand to be useful in the moment. Or he’s trying to include him, sweet, though unnecessary.

Victor puts it out of his mind.

4. Green Arrow

Ollie doesn’t believe Barry or Hal for a second. Like, really? Batman using slang that the sidekicks are using?

Sure, Nightwing sometimes uses some here and there, but Red Robin is always very professional and Robin is closer to a Shakespearean actor than a TikTok teen. There isn’t anyone else he could have gotten it from and it doesn’t make sense with his whole ‘I am the Night’-persona.

Victor suggested it was to make the newbies more comfortable when he overheard them talking, but that’s even more ridiculous in Ollie’s opinion.

So, he’s not at all in the slightest prepared for Batman’s reaction when he shows him the new arrows he developed. Because Batman’s reaction is: “Hm, serves cunt.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ollie says, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

Batman just stares at him, then in a confused sort of voice goes: “You know, it slays? It’s, you know, good? Positive.”

“Huh, what? No, I- I know what that means. How the fuck do you know?” Ollie splutters.

“I’m Batman,” is all he says. Then he walks away and leaves Ollie to stand there, still frozen in time, because what the hell was that? Batman can’t just do that, can he? That’s illegal. How does he even know that?

What Ollie doesn’t know, is that this was a calculated move. Bruce had overheard the three talking as well and decided to have a little fun. All the times before, it just slipped out in the heat of battle, but this one was purposeful.

Bruce knows Ollie would know what it meant, because billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have done TikTok trends in the past and try to keep up to date, despite their age. Not that Ollie knows it’s him under there.

And last gala, he left Bruce for the wolves – Vicky Vale – so now Bruce is dealing psychological damage to him as petty revenge.

5. Superman (and Practically the Entire League)

They’re in a meeting with most of the Justice League members that are present on earth at the moment. It’s not often they hold such meetings, since they are a little overwhelming and tend to drag on more than be productive.

However, Clark thinks it’s important to ensure there are avenues through which ever member can state their piece and be heard. So, here they are again.

Booster Gold is complaining about always being on the sidelines and never in the heat of the action, even though he’s a great hero. He’s claiming that there is a bias against younger heroes, despite the fact that the ‘old guard’ will have to give it up eventually.

Apparently, Batman has had enough, because he gets up and snaps: “We don’t have bias based on age, we have one based off skill. Maybe if you stopped abandoning your post and being someone reliable, you might get put out in the field more often. Now stop being salty about it.”

It’s silent.

Clark is scrambling his brain, to figure out the meaning. As a journalist he tries to stay up to date on current language use, however, the only person he’s heard use that word is Jon. The boy never explained, but Clark guessed what it means. Doesn’t explain why Batman knows it.

Then the silence gets broken by a snort, everyone’s head whipping towards the source. It’s Nightwing, a newer addition and one affiliated with Batman himself. The only one there brave enough to laugh at Batman, mirthfully asking: “Did you actually say salty?”

There is no change on Batman’s face, but as a longtime friend, Clark knows he isn’t emotionless. Indeed, when he listens close, he can hear the blood rush to his face, blush hidden by the cowl.

“That was not the point of the sentence, Nightwing,” Batman counters, the name a little bit pointed on is tongue.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing grins easily, showing his hands in surrender, an act which is made null by him adding: “Just pointing out that this is an official meeting. You’re on the record and you know I’m reporting this to the others.”

Red Robin and Robin, Clark fills in mentally, the other two known associates. Everyone already guessed that Nightwing must be close to them as well, since the younger two are closer to being Batman’s children. Now that is confirmed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Batman says tersely, before quickly pivoting to the next point on the agenda. No one calls him out for it.

However, just because no one calls him out on it, doesn’t mean they drop it. In the weeks after the incident, whispers make their way through the halls of the Watchtower as people speculate why or how Batman came to use the word salty and how out of character it is.

Clark can hear the gossip all over the Watchtower and he’s sure Batman is aware of it too, because some brave souls have asked about. Especially when some of the others talked about the incident not being the first one.

Batman hasn’t replied yet to any of the questions or rumors. Clark thinks he likes the mystery and chaos, likes that they don’t know why the hell he sometimes lets slang slip. Even Nightwing has been seemingly silenced, never commenting with a sort of professional ease at evasion.

Nightwing is the only clue they have, along with Robin and Red Robin, but none of them seem like the culprit.

It just doesn’t make sense and Clark can’t help but have his reporter brain itch.

+1. The Batfamily

There is going to be an attack somewhere in a major city in America tonight. They cannot figure out where, so there is a nation wide stake out at all the important places. Nearly the entire Justice League has been pulled out for it and even then they don’t have enough.

Batman insists on having a skeleton crew remain on the Watchtower in case the threat turns out to be a distraction. And when it is protested, he pulls out an army of associates none of them have ever heard about to fill out the last gaps in their observational net.

The sudden introduction of about six new Gotham vigilantes, which have apparently been operating inside the city as well as outside of it, would have been the main shock if it weren’t for how they are on coms.

Red Robin and Nightwing are known as professionals like Batman, while Robin isn’t a known entity in missions, though those who have met him, know him to be serious. However, with the introduction of the others all of that professionalism melts away.

It starts about 45 minuted into their mission when Spoiler’s voice suddenly crackles over the coms: “I fucking hate stake outs, they’re so boring.”

“I know right, my ass is starting to hurt,” Red Robin – to everyone’s surprise – replies.

“No chatter on the coms,” Batman dutifully reproaches like he always does, but he sounds less stern this time. It’s as if he knows they won’t listen, but says it because it’s his role to do so.

Red Hood ignores Batman completely, idly commenting: “I don’t know, stake outs always hit different for me.”

“That’s just because you’re boring AF,” Spoiler says, an eyeroll practically audible.

“Oi, take that back,” Red Hood says, offended. “I didn’t die to have you slander my name like that!”

This is horrifying news for most of the other people stuck on the coms, however, there is a cacophony of annoyed groans as well. Why anyone would be so blasé about someone mentioning their death, they don’t know.

Until, Robin says: “Cease mentioning your death as excuse. It’s unbecoming to be so reliant on one measly event. You’re not the only one who has died, don’t be – what was it? – ah, yes, don’t be basic, Hood.”

“Yeah, Hood, don’t be salty just because you’re becoming a boring old man,” Red Robin pipes up, sounding smug. That solves the salty mystery.

“Shut up, Replacement,” Red Hood huffs. “I can talk about my death as much as I want to and you can’t stop me.”

“Hood, please, stop talking about your death, you’re going to make B sad,” Nightwing suddenly interjects, stopping the conversation before it can get out of hand.

Those with super hearing will hear Barry mutter in a shocked manner: “Is he talking about Batman?” But he is overshadowed by most of the newly introduced (and already) known Bat-associates booing loudly.

“Don’t be a fucking suck up, Dick” Spoiler hollers, only those in the know picking up on the fact it’s his name. It’s the only time Batman won’t correct them, because not everyone will know it’s a name unless it’s pointed out.

“Periodt,” the quiet voice of Black Bat supports Spoiler.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, BB,” Spoiler cheers when she hears the other girl.

“That was the correct usage?” Black Bat asks.

“It was, well done,” Oracle’s kind voice comes over the coms, from where she is in her lair helping with coordination.

After that it all quiets down again for about half an hour, then Bluebird breaks the quiet again, complaining: “I can’t believe I had to stay behind in Gotham of all places.”

“You live there. Willingly,” Signal answers. “And I had to stay behind too, you know.”

“They’re sleeping on us, Signal, be upset with me,” Bluebird exclaims, indignantly.

“Okay, but tea though,” Spoiler says, most of the Justice League listening in are starting to learn she likes stirring the pot a little.

“Don’t be a simp, Spoils,” Red Robin says.

“Oh, look who’s talking about being a simp,” Red Hood snorts loudly. “I observed you, loser boy, you’re the simp.”

“It’s not as much of the serve you think it is to admit to stalking me,” Red Robin deadpans.

“RR, not to be that bitch, but you’re the OG stalker, maybe- maybe don’t do that,” Nightwing says cautiously, which is apparently funny enough that multiple people start laughing.

Meanwhile Red Robin complains: “Stop laughing at me, when I did it was totally different, I didn’t plan on killing any of you.” Which is mildly disturbing

“Oi, I never planned to actually kill you-kill you either,” Red Hood protests, even more disturbing. The Justice League is starting to wonder why Batman works with the man.

“Stop with the chatter,” Batman interjects again, before it can go further. “It’s not just us on the com lines now. At least try to be professional.”

And much to the horror of the League, who could never imagine doing such a thing, Batman gets booed. Again. This time directly.

Then to add to the horror, Batman doesn’t explode in anger, like everyone would have imagined, instead he just sighs. Defeated. Batman is like a cockroach, he doesn’t get defeated. However, these kids are managing.

Batman remains defeated too, because the Gotham vigilantes continue to idly chat all throughout the next hour. They are definitely bat associated, because they never reveal any information that could be tied to their civilian identity. Instead discussing other missions, general news, funny things they saw on patrol and personal grievances with the others on the line.

If this is what Batman deals with on the day to day, some are starting to see why he would prefer the heroes of the Justice League to keep their mouths shut on missions unless it’s important.

Most try to tune it out and focus on their own stake out, though the voices keep them awake. But they notice when Spoiler’s voice suddenly becomes serious as she reports: “Sus individuals moving towards the Mayor’s office.”

“Received, getting visual on your location,” Oracle’s voice replies, also snapped back into professionalism.

Spoiler reports their appearances and currently location, until Oracle has them, running a check on them, before confirming they have a criminal record and might be thugs for hire. Spoiler says: “I am going to move in.”

Batman says: “Do not engage, Spoiler, they could be a decoy. Try and get more information first.”

“Alright, alright,” Spoiler huffs. Then adds petulantly: “I’m not gonna do it, I was just thinking about it.”

Which sounds pretty reasonable for most listening in, who aren’t of the right age group to know the meme. Batman, however, does know, because he’s been subjected to it multiple times. So, he yells: “Spoiler, no!” startling some members.

A second later, there are sounds of a fight and Spoiler gleefully saying: “I did it.”

Batman lets out a frustrated growl, but Spoiler pays it no mind and she can’t truly get chewed out, because more and more start to report suspicious individuals moving in on the targets they’re watching.

Within minutes of it starting, Nightwing reports: “They’re decoys with targets. Not the main attack, but will do damage if they succeed.”

“Everyone make sure to take out the decoys,” Batman says. “Those without decoys, keep your eyes peeled, you might be at the real target.”

“Done with my targets, moving to help the others now,” Nightwing reports seriously, before he adds: “And can I just say that I’m the GOAT. Dibs on cookies for finishing first.”

“Okay, shade much,” Bluebird says.

“Don’t be arrogant, it’s unbecoming,” Robin retorts as well.

“Yeah, stop flexing,” Spoiler adds. “I’ve wrapped up too, by the way. You’re not special.”

“Let me have this,” Nightwing complains. “You already took all my shit, let me be cool. You all used to think I was cool.”

“Yeah, used to,” Red Hood scoffs. “Then we all realized you’re a looser.”

“Ha, get wrecked,” Red Robin snorts.

“Baby bird, wasn’t I your favorite?” Nightwing asks hurt, though over the top enough to show he is faking it.

“No, sadly, that was Hood,” Red Robin replies, sounding a little like he’s grimacing.

“No cap?” Red Hood asks, surprised.

“No cap,” Red Robin confirms.

“Now I feel kind of bad for you,” Red Hood says, before some bullets are fired. “Wrapped up here, moving to help.”

Red Robin seems glad to not have to reply and none of the other Gothamites do either. With what the League has heard so far, they’re also kind of happy the topic is being dropped, unsure what to think.

Batman’s associates are among the first ones cleaning up, however, soon others are joining them and the true battles grounds – yes, there are multiple targets, these people are organized (Batman will likely obsess until he has tracked down their organization afterwards) – are discovered and heroes move in to fight them.

Throughout the battle, everyone catches snippets of this strange, newly introduced group. A group, who works well together, like an oiled machine, yet obviously made up of highly competent parts that can act on their own as well.

Like Black Bat calling out: “Red Hood, yeet,” before those fighting alongside them see Red Hood boost her into the air, so she can come flying at the terrorists.

But they also make comments about the people they’re fighting and the others that are fighting alongside them.

Signal calling out: “Bluebird is pulling some sick ass moves. Another one for her on the slay-board, Oracle.”

Or Spoiler commenting: “Okay, not to be like that or whatever, but these terrorists are kind of looking snatched.”

To which Batman sighs: “Spoiler, please, no chatter,” in a vain attempt to get them under control.

“What?” Spoiler says. “I can appreciate when they’ve at least tried to pull a fit instead of that usual para-military, ninja type BS.”

“Go off,” Black Bat pipes up again and Spoiler cheers while Batman drops it. Defeated again.

They also check in on each other, with Red Robin hissing in pain, which is immediately followed by Nightwing going: “RR, you good, fam?”

“Gucci,” Red Robin replies. “Just low-key got stabbed.”

“There’s nothing low-key about getting stabbed!” Nightwing exclaims, getting called a hypocrite by many people, while Batman is already calling for Oracle to get a visual and for a medic to head Red Robin’s way.

By the time the battle is over, the Justice League understands how different the team is that Batman usually works with. If they were surrounded by heroes who talked like that continuously, they would have probably picked up some things here and there too.

Still, it fucking weird when Batman checks over his horde, before declaring: “You were all lit out there,” causing multiple of the kids around him to groan loudly, with Bluebird calling Batman a boomer.

Clark, however, sees a small uptick in Batman’s mouth. And in that moment, he knows Batman is doing it on purpose, that he’s enjoying it. That he’s fucking with them. He doesn’t know what to do with that, nor does he think that anyone will believe it. So, he decides to share the amusement and drop it.

They’re never going to figure out Batman.

A/N:

This work is going to get dated so so so fast lmao, but it’s fun rn (if ur commenting in the future, welcome to outdated slang vibes from someone who wasn’t that up to date with current slang when writing it, bc im secretly a grandpa).

Hopefully I didn’t overdo it to an unrealistic degree, but if I did, such is the story that was being told oops

Also this whole fic is just an excuse for me to write batfam banter bc I love it lmao

I didn’t include Batwing, Batwoman and Flamebird here, sorry, but writing the batfam is always so hard bc there are so many characters T-T

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mushiemellows · 4 months

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These mf’s need a better name than Old Strawhat Polycule but I will present regardless

Franky and Robin need no introduction. She finds him interesting and a good dose of silly guy cures the depression like nothing else. If a man (35, blue hair, pronouns, naked, craftsman, surfer, local union representative) built me a fish tank and a library, I too could simply not resist. He thinks she’s the most gorgeous beautiful stunning intelligent funny wise woman in the entire world because she is.

Robin and Brook, likewise, ooooo the macabre appeal of the hanahone ship. She licks him in the way that archeologists lick rocks and bones to figure out if they are a rock or a bone and she thinks it’s a funny joke every time. He thinks she’s the most gorgeous beautiful stunning intelligent funny wise woman in the entire world because she is. When they go to the beach he buries himself halfway in the sand and she digs him back up and she thinks it’s sooooo funny every time.

Brook and Franky lay stoned on the deck noodling their guitars and they’re like when two rockstars kiss on stage. Brook stands there like an anatomical model when Franky’s gotta crack open the hood and points to stuff. They’ve got the same strand of “lived in isolation on an abandoned ship” disease but Brook’s just for it 9x as bad (50 years to Franky’s 4). Sometimes they make Franky run on Milk to see what it does (you DONT want to see Milk Franky)

Jinbei 👏 and 👏 Franky both love 👏 SUNNY!!!! They get her, and to understand Sunny is to Understand Franky and he stands there and he watches Jinbei drive his car like the master that he is and it makes him Feel Things. They listen to dad rock. They go surfing together. They go snorkeling together. They go fishing together. They go to 2pm Wednesday half priced movies together. They go bowling together. They share a shirt collection.

Robin and Jinbei free political prisoners!!! The thinks he’s handsome, she thinks he’s kind, she thinks he’s Just. She thinks he’s admirable. They organize protests, they attend community meetings, they figure out direct action. She’s kissing fish men and it’s making the papers for the revolutionary act that it is (and the papers can’t even comprehend when Franky Kisses Him). He thinks she’s the most gorgeous beautiful stunning intelligent funny wise woman in the entire world because she IS!

Brook And Jinbei used to Go to Chilis together but then chilis got rid of the 2 for 25 deal (because of inflation) so they’re a little mad about it and are taking direct action against the banks. And trying to find a new restaurant to go to. They’re considering getting into lawn bowling/bocce because bowling nights with everyone are getting too expensive (because inflation is too high! $75 for 4 people to bowl for an hour????? We can have bowling at home!!) but it’s not the same.

And then they all pile up when they sleep too because a cuddle pile ain’t just for the younger crew

#paradise polycule #that’s what I’ve settled on #Robin/franky/Brook/jinbei #to tag this would be a monstrosity #ms-all-Sunday I see why you have such a hard time tagging your posts now #uhhhhh #jinbrook #frobin #hanahone #do the rest even have ship names??????????????#this is what happens when I have Margs #frook #jinbin #frinbei #i'm coining that last one fuck it

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evevvevet · 1 year

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based on my crackship/rarepair fanfic LMAO (wedivina ON TOP)

(this is not supposed to be taken seriously, ship whoever you want lol)

(og date: Jun 14, 2023)

#wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #divina #divina wednesday #wedivina #wednesday x divina #ship art #fan art #crack ship #rarepair #fanfic #comic #i love them so much???#love these gay people

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dylan-hart · 1 year

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⸻ these words that bring me to you

summary: You were dreading the day you would meet your soulmates, their words forever printed harshly down your forearm. Meanwhile, Enid and Wednesday can only think about finding their third, even if the two matching words on their wrists were odd. Besides, what could possibly happen that makes their soulmate’s first words to them be “Well, fuck”?

pairing: Enid Sinclair x Fem!Reader x Wednesday Addams, poly

warning(s): cursing, mentions of child neglect, Thornhill being creepy af (nothing drastic), bullying

word count: 2.4k

You were never normal. That’s a fact that you knew well. Ever since your odd birth and the years leading up to your sixteenth birthday, you were deemed abnormal. Weird, even. You were the quiet kid that sat in the back of the classroom, headphones blasting music to drown out the teacher’s rambling, and extremely antisocial — many went as far to believe that you were allergic to people.

But you were okay with that fact.

Until the day a boy decided that you were the perfect target to jump and scare in the hallway. You barely remembered what happened that day, only that your vision tunneled when hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, his voice yelling loudly in your ears, and the sound of his friends laughing loudly in the distance had grated your nerves, until you felt something surge from your chest, into your veins and push out from your fingertips.

The boy went flying across the hallway, cracking his head on the floor.

Your life was never the same again.

The ability to move objects — or people — without even touching them, with only the thought of pure instinct or want, had flipped your life upside down. Expelled from your old school, rumors of being a witch that sent you spiraling, and the reveal of your newfound ability left your parents scared of you. Your father became angry, angrier than normal, and his yelling became more constant, screaming matches leaving both of your throats raw as your mother watched on blankly, not once saying a single word.

They were scared of you, scared of what you could do.

That’s why you found yourself being shipped off across the states to a new school, one that could hopefully fix you or keep you contained. A school of fellow freaks and outcasts much like yourself.

Nevermore.

You settled in quickly, quietly, not bothering to talk to your roommate — what was her name? Yoko? you mused — and kept up the same appearance as your last school: curled in on yourself, picking the chair furthest in the back, and keeping your headphones over your ears at all times, zoning in and out — you thanked the way you could easily pick up subjects, able to keep your grades high enough the school wouldn’t even think of contacting your parents. You didn’t make any friends — you didn’t want them, didn’t need them — and you didn’t speak during class, choosing to doodle away absently in your notebook.

And, when night came and your roommate was snoring away in her bed, you would trace the lines down your forearm, hoping that you never met your soulmates, hoping you would never see them or come into contact with them.

“Shit, that took forever to organize!”

“Scram before I fillet the skin off your bones and feed it to the piranhas.”

You sighed at the thought and rubbed at your eyes, fingers gripping your forearm. You had evidently messed up with one of your soulmates with their words were anything to go by while the other one was openly threatening you.

So, you wished you would never meet them, never have the chance to ruin such a beautiful bond with your freakishness.

Unfortunately, the world was never kind to you and you ended up meeting them at the end of the week.

“Miss (L/n), can you please stay after class?”

You paused and clenched your jaw, ducking your head down, the grip on your notebook tightening drastically. You watched from the corner of your eye as everyone filed out quickly, the last being a blonde talking loudly and animatedly to a girl with dark hair and her face blank, though her eyes were fond as she stared at her companion.

You sighed and watched the door close before you glanced up, shouldering your backpack, letting your headphones dangle around your neck. You fidgeted as Miss Thornhill smiled at you, something strange racing down your spine at the sight.

“You wished to speak with me?” you prompted when she continued to only smile at you.

“Ah, yes,” Miss Thornhill said, shaking out of her stupor. “I wanted to ask how you’re settling into Nevermore. Have the students been treating you good?”

You shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, they’re fine,” you answered.

“I see that you don’t really talk to anyone, though.” Miss Thornhill frowned, concern too obvious to be real on her face. “I know that things were rough in your last school.” You felt something like ice rush through your veins at the thought. “If you ever want to talk, about anything — your old school, your life, your parents…your powers…”

You shivered at the way she said the last part, something manic in her eyes behind that calm facade, something dangerous.

“I’m okay,” you forced out, throat closing up. “But I’ll make sure to take you up on your offer if it ever becomes too much.”

Miss Thornhill smiled and set a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it. You forced yourself to stay completely still, bile lurching up the back of your throat and stomach churning. “Take care of yourself, Miss (L/n). I’m here if you need to talk.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Miss Thornhill,” you managed to choke out. She finally let go of your shoulder.

You turned and headed for the door, keeping your pace even enough that she didn’t think you were running away. You finally stepped out of her classroom and waited until the door closed before you leaned heavily against the wall, forcing down your power as it thrashed restlessly in your veins, panic rearing up that had you taking deep breaths to calm it.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You glanced up and saw a boy with long hair staring at you in concern. “I’m fine,” you brushed off harshly and pushed yourself from the wall, marching away.

“Well, okay then,” you heard him mutter but you ignored it.

You practically stormed towards your dorm room, classes be damned, but, when you turned around the corner, you smacked into something hard. You grunted and fell, hearing a crash in front of you. You blinked your eyes open when you realized they were closed and glanced up, finding the pair from before standing there, a binder and folder on the floor, pages a mess on the ground.

“Shit, that took forever to organize!” the blonde groaned out, glancing towards you.

You froze, your breath rolling from your lungs. No way. There’s no way this is happening to you—

The dark haired girl glowered at you, cold fury in her eyes. “Scram before I fillet the skin off your bones and feed it to the piranhas.”

You choked on air, fingers trembling as you stared up at them, eyes wide and panic resurfacing.

“Hey, are you okay?” the blonde asked tentatively after a moment, brows furrowing the longer you simply stared up at them.

The dark haired girl scoffed under her breath, crossing her arms, and scowled down at you, looking moments away from committing murder.

You blinked. And then blinked again. You chuckled humorlessly. “Well, fuck.”

It happened in an instant.

They both froze. The blonde’s eyes went wide in disbelief, jaw dropping, papers forgotten. The dark haired girl zeroed in on you intensely, straightening up in her spot. They stared at you in a new light, shock coloring their faces — though the dark haired girl less so than the blonde.

You glanced between them and decided then and there to leave the situation completely. You shoved yourself up from the ground quickly and twisted on your heel, rushing away from them, from your soulmates despite their warnings for you to come back.

You never did look back.

——

Your schedule changed after that. You would make sure to arrive to class a second before the bell to avoid your soulmates but you were also always the first to leave, escaping them even as they tried to catch you. Yoko — your roommate, you were right about her name — would stare at you weirdly every time you came back to your dorm before she brought up the subject because apparently, your luck would have it that she was one of your soulmate’s best friends because of course she was.

You learned their names: Enid Sinclair, the school’s social butterfly and social media sweetheart and Wednesday Addams, Nevermore’s morbid outcast and possible serial killer.

You were annoyed as you found yourself listening to Yoko tell stories about Enid and Wednesday, found yourself hating it that you craved to know more about them, to know their quirks and what they liked and disliked, what they were like.

You hated it but you couldn’t stop when Yoko offered to talk to you about them.

“They’re looking for you, you know,” Yoko mentioned one night.

You grimaced and glanced away from her.

“You want to know about them?” Yoko continued. “Out of everything I told you about them, the first and main thing you should know is that they never give up, that they always find a way to get what they want. Every. Single. Time.”

You found yourself wishing you had taken Yoko’s warning to heart when, one night when your roommate had decided to sleep in her soulmate, Bianca’s, dorm, you heard harsh knocking coming from your door. You grunted and scowled at the door before pushing yourself up from your bed and shuffling towards it, yanking the door open with a glower.

And there they stood, side by side — one smiling shyly and the other staring back at you stonily.

You tensed up at the sight, frozen in place.

“Can we come in?” Enid asked hesitantly.

You swallowed hard before finding yourself nodding, stepping aside. They both walked in and you shut the door behind them, fidgeting with your fingers and refusing to look at either of them.

“You’ve been avoiding us,” Wednesday deadpanned.

You winced.

“Wednesday,” Enid hissed under her breath at her soulmate.

But Wednesday ignored her.

“Why?”

You stared down at your feet, not saying a word.

“Is…” Enid started quietly. “Is it because you don’t want us?” Her voice wobbled dangerously.

Your eyes widened and you snapped your head up to look at them. “What? No!” you denied, shaking your head.

“Then why can you never look at us?” Enid whimpered.

You flinched back and your fingers grabbed where their sentences are printed on your skin, holding on tight enough it hurts. “I just…I’m not—” You groaned loudly, trying to find the words. “I’m not normal.”

Wednesday huffed out a breath. “I have psychic visions occasionally when I come into contact with someone or something. Enid can grow claws and transforms into a werewolf every full moon. None of us are normal, (L/n).”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you snapped. “I’m- I’m different. I’m a freak. A witch. I fuck up everything I touch. Why would I destroy something as precious as a soul bond with my presence?”

Wednesday frowned, brows twitching in what looked like a mixture of concern and rage.

Enid took a step towards you. “You’re not a freak. Who told you that?”

“Who hasn’t told me that?” you countered with a scoff, crossing your arms as if to protect yourself.

“You’re not a freak,” Enid said firmly, a fire in her eyes. “And you won’t fuck up our soul bond. She” — Enid jerked a thumb towards Wednesday, who cocked an eyebrow up at being addressed — “tried to push me away the first time she realized we were soulmates.” Enid grabbed the shorter’s hand despite her scoff. “But everything turned out okay in the end.”

“Trust me, (L/n), if there was a way to harm the soul bond, I would’ve already achieved it,” Wednesday drawled.

You stood still and processed what they were saying. A part of you screamed and yelled not to trust what they were saying, shouting that you didn’t deserve such a precious thing as soulmates, that you would mess it all up and end up alone again. But, there was also a part of you that yearned…that wanted so badly for this to happen; a part that wanted to just say fuck it and accept the bond as it is, to finally open up to someone.

“I…” You took a deep breath and stared at them, at your soulmates, who both stared right back, a certain vulnerability in their eyes. “Okay…okay, we can try this soulmate thing.”

Enid squealed and darted forward before pausing, arms outstretched. “Wait, am I allowed to give you a hug?”

You made the mistake of glancing into her doe eyes and found yourself nodding. She grinned and practically barreled into you, strong arms wrapping you up tightly, pulling you close to her. You tensed up at the feeling before slowly relaxing into the hug, tentatively wrapping your arms back around her. It felt like you had hugged for eternity before a dry voice spoke up.

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Wednesday said. “It makes me want to vomit.”

Enid laughed loudly and pulled away, nudging you. “That means that she loves us.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. You glanced over at Wednesday and hesitantly let your fingers brush against hers. She glanced down at your hand before wrapping her pinkie around yours. You smiled a small smile at her and watched her lips twitch slightly in response.

“Aw,” Enid cooed. “And you talk about us being adorable.” She leapt forward and grabbed your other hand, ignoring Wednesday giving her a warning glance for calling her adorable.

You three basked in the comfortable silence, warm pulsing between your connected hands and you let your eyes slip shut at the feeling, the bond pulsing happily between the three of you.

“I want names.”

“What?” you asked, blinking your eyes back open and turning towards Wednesday, who stared at you.

“I want the names of who made you think about yourself the way that you do,” Wednesday clarified.

“Why?”

“So they can be disposed of,” Wednesday answered unblinkingly.

You blanched. “It was mainly my parents.”

“That can be arranged.”

Enid’s eyes flashed. “Wednesday, what have we talked about murder?”

“That it’s allowed if one of our soulmates are suffering because of it,” Wednesday replied.

“What? No, we didn’t — Wednesday, put down the knife we are not going to go kill (Y/n)’s parents—”

You cracked a smile at their bickering.

Yeah, maybe the soul bond wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

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ornii · 4 days

Text

Bitterly Beautiful: Family Ties

Ireland

(Y/n) and Wednesday, a love story as old as time. Winter break had finally reached Nevermore and (Y/n) made a suggestion, to visit Ireland and for his bride to meet his family. Wednesday being the old fashion woman she is, she couldn’t say no.

A massive old ship sailed across the sea, being piloted by not humans but beings that ceased to exist, skeletons. All remains of pirates once plundering the seas for their fill now in service to the Healy name. Wednesday found this most fascinating, her eyes dance along the deck of the ship as she stands with (Y/n), he points to the Captian moving the ship with the wheel.

“You see the Captian and his crew died to a kraken if you could believe it. Tore their ship from the sea to the bottom of the ocean.” He explained, and Wednesday stared at their moving bones, flesh barely visible under the ragged clothes. “Fascinating.. Rigor mortis obviously has set in but their bodies seem to reject the stiffness.”

“Is that all you got from my story?” He replied.

“It’s all that I care to listen to.” She responded. A small laugh came from (Y/n). “I love you too Wednesday.” He steps forward with his cane and she follows. “My family is a bit more.. bombastic than yours.” He started, “So it might be a bit.. uncomfortable at first but they mean well..”

“As long as they don’t touch me, all will be well.” Her response was expected, but not particularly hated either. (Y/n) inhaled and turned around to the front of the ship.

“We’re here, the Rock of Cashel.” Wednesday turned as well, her eyes gazing upon a massive castle of limestone and rock. “It’s.. impressive.” She said, and he stepped up next to her. “Nice Family heirloom which I’ll eventually take over, I can give you the tour when we dock.. but I think my family wants to at least say hello because you recluse yourself.” He replied. Wednesday slightly pouts but goes with it. Docking at the waters near the castle, now more monsters. Oddly short human like people. They carted and carried their bags and belongings into the castle as (Y/n) and Wednesday sit and ride carriage upwards to the castle.

“Leprechauns?” She asked.

“Nope, Puca. Little known monsters here.” He responded, “They can transform into animals, sly little things.” (Y/n) leaned forward and looked in the direction of Wednesday.

“Admittedly, I didn’t expect you to say yes to visiting my family. Especially since it’s in a castle in a completely different continent.” He cracked a smile, but Wednesday kept a calm demeanor. “You handled my family exceptionally well, even with their.. issues. It’s only fair that I do the same for you.” She explained, she could see the gears turning in (Y/n)’s head as she says this, something was hidden under his smile but he kept it.

The duo arrive at the gate of the castle, which slowly opens the heavy wooden doors. The large hefty foyer looks right out of the 13th century. Paintings of battles of gods and men, marble statues of men and women chiseled. Tapestry of the Bloodline in perfect etching detail, all of it truly felt otherworldly.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” He said, Wednesday’s eyes scanned along the walls. “Admittedly it is.. do you have torture chamber as well?”

“That’s…” he started to speak but the sudden boom of footsteps approaching halted his speech, Wednesday and (Y/n) turned to the origin of the sound, the deep dark hallway which was lit barely but the encroaching flames of torches, Wednesday watches as a massive Fomorian titan stormed out of the hall. She took a step back and was prepared to run or fight. She looks to (Y/n) who wasn’t particularly changed by the presence.

“(Y/n) if you couldn’t hear there’s a towering monster before us!” She gripped his wrist and he tilts his head in her direction.

“I know, and it isn’t funny Aunt.” He said, the monster groans and pouts.

“I just wanted to see if the lass was as ice cold as you always said she was.” The monsters voice was booming, but also a feminine tone. Her body began to transform, bones shrinking, skin changing and hair growing, Wednesday was baffled and somehow amazed to watch the human body transform. A burly woman stood before her, hefty red hair and a strong jawline but a porcelain face. Her dress was a deep blue and hefty dress with a wolf fur coat around the neckline.

“Pale little thing isn’t she?” The woman leaned in, her lively emerald green eyes collided with Wednesdays cold and emotionally dead dark black eyes. “She isn’t pale she’s just.. you know.” (Y/n) mumbled, the woman offers a firm handshake, taking Wednesdays had without her say and shaking it strongly, Wednesday was taken aback by her terrifyingly firm grasp but soft skin. “Right, no sunlight.” Wednesday stepped back to avoid being hugged and crushed by the woman. “Wednesday, this is Aunt Dian.” (Y/n) steps in between them.

Wednesday stared at the woman, not able to form an accurate response to what she’s seeing. “Yes.. indeed.” Wednesday replied, and Dian turned around, “Alright! Now to your chambers, and you two won’t be sharing a room. Show her the way.” She eyes (Y/n) who acts as if he isn’t paying attention. The woman casually strolls away as the two head deeper into the castle.

“Why is she so… large?” Wednesday asked, “Genetics, reincarnation tends to have adverse effects on how your body functions and reforms. Dian was the God of Medicine here.” He tilts slightly to Wednesday, “There’s something I want to show you.” He said, “Much more interesting than a bedchamber.”

The two stroll out the hearty woods past the castle to a forest. A few spots of clearing were there but still surrounded thick trees.

“This place was a battle ground, graveyard I believe. Legend says you can hear the wails of the dead at night though the forest trees.”

“Was that legend created by you?” She ask sarcastically. “I mean… for the most part.” He admits, “I appreciate you not trying to kill my aunt when she shook your hand.” He thanks her, and kept walking forward. Wednesday halted in her footsteps and he turned to her direction.

“I’ll admit it took everything in my power to not succumb to death at her touch. It’s not like I could have escaped her iron grip anyway.” Wednesday adds in, (Y/n) shrugs. “Fair point.. but I’m glad you’re getting along with her, my cousins.. might be a bit more than you can handle.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, a warning, they’re kids they don’t know any better.” He gently took her hand, sensing her unwary gaze. “Something’s bothering you.. what is it?” He leaned in, Wednesday wanted to speak freely but, it felt like her lips were bound by a spell, and couldn’t form the words to speak.

The sudden pick up of wind cut off their moment, feeling the odd force of air current against them. Leaves spiraled and danced around them. “That’s… not good.”

“Are spinning leaves a bad omen?”

“No, but it’s just weird.” His response was calm, but wary. Wednesday looked around as the leaves rested and something caught her eye. “(Y/n).” She spoke, “There’s.. a body.”

“A..Body?” He turned to her direction and took a hearty step, the echo formed a wave to bounce sound off, and he felt it on the ground. The two slowly walked towards it. They came across a corpse on the ground, still and unmoving. “It feels like a woman..” (Y/n) knelt down with Wednesday.

“Black hair, late teens. She seems to have some sharp object in her hand, but her hand is, oddly stiff.. her body doesn’t look too cold to allow rigor mortis to set in.” Wednesday said, “Do you know her?”

“No, the servants aren’t human…” he reached and touched her neck, feeling a faint but warm pulse. “She’s alive… perhaps she’s sleeping.”

“Sleeping in the woods behind a castle?” Wednesday replied. “Well when you put it that way..” (Y/n) mumbled. “I’ll just wake her up.”

“Are you sure? All circumstances point to this ending very poorly for you.” Wednesday points out, “We help people Wednesday.. would be wrong of me to leave her here, plus you’re overthinking.”

(Y/n) gently placed his fingers on her forehead, his middle and pointer finger poking the center of her brow. “Eirich bhon aisling gun chrìoch” he spoke a spell and the woman’s eyes slowly opened. (Y/n) confidently turned to Wednesday. “See not a problem—“

Before (Y/n) could confidently tell his girlfriend, the strange woman moves with blinding speed, the sharp object rammed straight between his fourth and fifth rib. It was so fast (Y/n) didn’t have time to even react before falling back and gripping the blade, Wednesday blinked and the next thing she knew he was on the ground in pain. Rushing to his side she saw the knife and held it. “Calm down.. panicking makes you loose more blood. Relax and take a deep breath.” Wednesday caressed his forehead, and with a swift motion yanks the blade from his chest. (Y/n) quickly put his hand on his wound to slow the bleeding. The mystery woman wasn’t angry or sad, she was stunned at what she did, her glossy eyes looked over to the two and immediate guilt washed over her.

“Holy.. shit. I am so sorry!” She pleads, Wednesday turns to her with nothing but cold dead hatred. “I should fill your eyes with hot coals for what you’ve done.” Wednesday rarely shows emotion, but what she does it’s intense, and nothing is more intense than hate.

“It’s fine.. I’m.. fine..” (Y/n) sits up, “Just need.. to get home.. okay?” He asked Wednesday, she turned to the girl. “If you truly are sorry then you’ll help us.. after that.. we’ll see.” Wednesday began to help (Y/n) up, and the mystery girl did as well and essentially carried the boy back home.

Wednesday finished the last seam of her sewing the wound shut as (Y/n) bared his chest and lifted his arms up in her room. Sitting at a desk and across from each other the partners were silent, (Y/n) with pain and Wednesday with worry. The mysterious girl was leaning against a wall, fiddling with her fingers and obviously embarrassed.

“Again… I am.. so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed or shot.” (Y/n) shrugs, “just a new scar that my girlfriend finds pretty hot huh?” He tilts his head to Wednesday, who looks away trying to keep her composure.

“Your stab wasn’t deep enough to puncture the heart thankfully, but you knew how to stab in between the ribs and the right place to land a fatal blow, impressive.” She admits. The girl smiled, even if she was fighting back guilt. “Oh uh, thanks.. my mom taught me a lot, honestly I was scared to death I killed you.. my hair allowed went white, it’s.. black so you would have noticed..” she said, which was a major screw up.

(If you knew why, congrats.)

“Why did you say that?” Wednesday said, the girl raised an eyebrow. “Uh.. what do you mean?” She asked dumbfounded. She slowly stood up, grabbing a pair of scissors.

“You pointed out your hair color as if you knew one of us couldn’t see it…” Wednesday pointed out, which made (Y/n) raise his eyebrow, he slowly turns to the direction of the girl.

“She’s right.. I didn’t have my cane and my glasses are pretty normal.. how did you know I was blind?” He said, and a look of utter panic was on her face.

“You knew who we were, and you attacked..” Wednesday took a step closer.

“I’m sure you have some explanation.. right?” (Y/n) also stood up, and the girl sighed and shook her head.

“Dad’s gonna kill me…” she sighed and looked up at them. “Okay… my name, Is Fall Monday Healy.”

(Y/n)’s face twists to confusion. “.. Who?” He asked in disbelief and Fall gave an awkward and sad smile, “I’m from the future… so.. Hi Mom, Hi Dad.” She looks at them. (Y/n) and Wednesday turn to each other, it seems this break has taken a very interesting turn.

#male reader #netflix #wednesday #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x reader #reader insert #wedensday x you #time travel #bitterlybeautiful #Ornii

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