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vicweasley · 5 years

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I was born with a HURRICANE HEART with wild rains and unchallenged rogue winds; I am constantly fighting, fighting to keep those dear to me within its eye.

DICHEN LACHMAN? No, that’s actually VICTOIRE WEASLEY from the NEXT GEN ERA. You know, the child of FLEUR WEASLEY ( NEÉ DELACOUR ) and BILL WEASLEY? Only 27 years old, this SLYTHERIN alumni works as a DRAGONOLOGIST and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE identifies as GENDERQUEER and is a 1/8TH VEELA who is known to be MERCURIAL, SELF-DESTRUCTIVE, and STUBBORN but also LOYAL, PASSIONATE, and STRATEGIC. — &&. ( JINX, PST, SHE/THEY, 24. ) Note: Victoire is adopted.

PLAYLIST • PINTEREST

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: Mercutio ( Romeo and Juliet ), Kady Orloff Diaz ( The Magicians ), Bellamy Blake ( The 100 ), Kara Thrace ( Battlestar Galatica ), Sara Lance ( Legends of Tomorrow )

HEADCANON ONE:

Character Name: Victoire Apolline Delacour-Weasley

VICTOIRE: Seventeen years of hearing stories about those who died on her ‘birthday’ before her. Over a decade of not celebrating it when she realized what it meant to others. Of course, she understands that this is the burden she carries – while her cousins bear namesakes of those who had fallen before them, she is the painful reminder of the day they lost people – so they could win freedom. She is the h e l l f i r e that is left after a victory, scorching technicolor brutal memories into the minds of those who were left behind. Still, she is a Victory none the less, and her family adopted her the day of a horrible day when she was a baby. They chose her instead of the pain, they named her after the good instead of seeing the bad. APOLLINE: The french derivative of the name Apollonia which comes from the Greek god, Apollo. Apollo, the god of the sun, prophecy, music, beauty, healing, poetry, plague and so much more. It could be said that Victoire is her own brand of beautiful – of course the Veela genes help ( or do they? ) but if there’s anything she’s gotten from this namesake it’s the love of music. She’s sure that if she wasn’t going to work with dragons when she was older it would be with music – something she practically speaks as a language. The name might sound too flowery or too soft for Victoire – but her grandmother from which she was given this name was still a Veela. She still had the siren song that was deadly to almost associated with her name. Still, just because Victoire is comparable to a constantly raging storm – she has times where parts of her mother and grandmother comes out. DELACOUR: While she embraces the Weasley, Victoire also embraces her mother’s French heritage. If there’s anything of her mother, of this side of the family that comes out – it’s when she speaks French. She refuses to call her mother anything but maman, and will quickly switch to French around her during Weasley-Potter-Lupin gatherings at the burrow to make her feel even a little more comfortable. For Victoire, the Delacour name embodies softness and embodies femininity that she’s not always connected to. It reminds her that she’s not been alone in being discriminated against or objectified, that others understand what it’s like to be in her place to some extent. It’s then that she’s able to embrace the girl, that she’s able to feel like one and not always so at war with her body and herself. WEASLEY: If the other parts of her name didn’t already come with enough precedence – perhaps the name ‘Weasley’ was the icing on the cake. She couldn’t be prouder to be a Weasley, no matter how much fussing her grandmother does or how everyone is in everyone’s business – Victoire knows she is lucky. Vic is well aware of how privileged she is & how her infamous family of blood traitors are lucky to have the life they do. Even though she looked different from some of her family, so did so many of her other extended family members. She took comfort in the fact that Weasley-Potters were a mixed bunch, in personality, in races, in ideals, and her being different was celebrated. There may have been a thirst to know her heritage the older she got, one that would later be quenched, but her real family were the Weasley’s. They chose her, they were better than her blood family ever was, not that she could remember them.

Pronouns & Gender: She/Her. Victoire identifies as Genderqueer.

HEADCANON TWO:

gender dysphoria tw

C h a n g i n g. From the minute Victoire was born, she was always fidgeting, always moving and her first display of magic was at 4 years old, when she tried to change her hair blue like Teddy’s. Instead, it changed her beautiful crop of dark brown into a dirty blonde. Often, she’d find herself envying Teddy’s abilities to change, feeling uncomfortable in her skin and angry that it wasn’t as easy for her. As she grew older, she came to understand what her body was, what it would be and that she’d never be able to change herself like Teddy or change herself at all. Any change that she’d make would be permanent and she found herself not wanting that in the slightest. Not wanting to limit herself because while Victoire loved her feminine side – there was something she felt growing in her soul that was just … something else. It didn’t have a label but it became her, it was her, and it was confusing but it was who she was. Victoire did research and after a while the closest thing she could find to what she felt her gender was the term: genderqueer. Of course, after she realized this she told her parents, getting nothing but support from them. A reason they’ve let Victoire dye her hair so much and wear clothes that some parents would have heart attacks at, is so she feels like she has an option to be who she is. Even though they know that their child will be who she is with or without their permission, they figure helping her along the way in a world where there are many people who are against what her gender is & think it’s unnatural. They are Vic’s parents after all and after a war where they lost family and friends who gave their lives so their children could have freedom – it seems trivial to ever fuss over something like gender. At twenty seven, Vic is more comfortable in herself but still struggles. She keeps it to herself instead of talking about her own dysphoria because it seems trivial compared the war going on around her, compared to so much else.

HEADCANON THREE:

About: ( SELF HARM MENTION, VIOLENCE MENTION, MISOGYNY MENTION )

Storm with skin. The performer. { Secret Strategist }. Masochistic with sadistic tendencies because she is just so filled with A N G E R ( being sexualized at a young age, her ass pinched on her first Hogsmeade trip, and so so much more that she doesn’t have a language to explain it in — only violent actions ). N o t that she’d let you know. Warrior, no,VALKYRIE more of a DRAGON than a girl ( if she ever was a g i r l in the first place ), fiercely protective of the people she loves — and if you dare mess with her family, friends, or any of the sort, you better run for oblivion. V I C T O R Y in her veins that she will hold onto until her dying breath.

Victoire Weasley is more than just a simple human being, she’s the true embodiment of what it means to be a storm with skin. Enigmatic even.

Victoire is quite sure of who she is, what she wants in life & what she will get, she’s quite sure of everything that she is —-

…but in those moments she blacks out in pure rage — she’s not so sure.

She’s h o r r i f i e d. In those moments where she looks for pain like she’s a drug addict and it’s her next fix, she mortified. She can’t remember how it quite started – a punch to the wall there after a fight, a purpose slap in the face, anything that released the rage she had. Victoire didn’t dare release it on the people she loved because she’d never be able to forgive herself for that, but it grew. The feeling grew and soon she had to hurt herself. But she can remember when she knew. When she needed reminders, when she needed blood and big bruises to litter her body. It’s something she’s so ashamed of, that she hasn’t let on to anyone. A reason Victoire craves fights and sometimes throws them is because of this masochistic need to hurt herself – just letting people beat her to unconsciousness. Her anger is so great, so c o n s u m i n g, there’s the small hope if she finds a way to release it somehow – it’ll go away.

“I will always scare; and more than anyone else — myself.”

It was in House of Serpents that she learned there is grey. There is moral grey, and it’s where she lives. With a heart so big, so W I D E, that even she doesn’t realize it’s part of the reason her anger can consume her. Feeling things for Victoire Weasley is never half arsed, it’s full arsed, and her passion, her ambition, could be the death of her. Her ambition to save the ones she loves, to protect her family. F a m i l y. A word redefined by Victoire fucking Weasley.

But when you meet her, she’ll s m i l e. She’ll laugh, she’ll charm you most likely and she’ll talk about the fact that Freddie Mercury is much more interesting than John Lennon, thank you very much. How Johnny Cash, Jeff Buckley, Arctic Monkeys, HAIM, and Aerosmith should be listened to at least once a day and how if she wanted anyone’s singing voice besides Freddie’s, it would be Hayley Williams, no doubt. She’d take off her shirt to show you the tattoos that run down her back, tell you about the ones that s n a k e down shoulders, arms, legs and how they’re ones dedicated to each and every one of her family members. For her best friends. For past people she loved. With child like w o n d e r m e n t and pure genuine glee, she’ll talk about her dragon, Mercury, and how her and Hagrid planned to try to start a campaign to get real dragons at Hogwarts — or at least they had. Never has she doubted being a Dragonologist and never has she had so much peace.

THOUGHTS ON THE TIMECLASH: Victoire thinks it’s amazing, sure she’s worried about the world as a whole, but she thinks this timeclash is kind of lit! It’s like a big party to her in a way, she’s never been more excited to learn about history than through the actual people she actually read about in the history books. If anything, she’s trying to learn from the new people around her, often sparking up random conversations with absolutely anyone she can to try to understand where they all come from.

#quantum intro #ugh we love recycling!#but vic is real excited about the timeclash

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minister-for-femslash · 5 years

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The Assassination of Alice Quinn

Summary; Phyllis and some of the other Librarians aren’t satisfied with the changes Alice has made to the Library, and the McCallisters plan to exploit that fact.

Words count; 3,903

Authors Note; My submission for @thewelterschallenge, theme 1 The Library

When Alice Quinn becomes Head of the Library, the reforms are quick and forceful; the Poison Room is dismantled, the books are cleansed and made accessible to anybody who wishes to read them. Any Librarians that still hold loyalty to Everett are demoted and moved out of the main branch to more remote locations – Gavin isn't demoted, instead he's fired – and wealthy families, like the McCallisters, who have spent centuries cultivating allies, gaining advantages and stockpiling privileges have those privileges revoked, and it’s the Librarians who are left to bare the brunt of the frustration, the anger and in one or two cases the temper tantrums. Contracts are brought to an end, millions, sometimes billions of years before the end date, starting with William Adiyodi.

Phyllis isn't demoted – she never really had any loyalty to Everett or anybody, for that matter – instead she becomes head of a brand new department, the Department for Magical Cooperation. Her main job is offering assistance to the any hedgewitch that asks for it. It isn't a demotion but it certainly feels like one, despite the slight pay increase that Phyllis is certain Zelda secured for her. She mainly deals with Miss Orloff Diaz, who as an ex-Brakebills students, Phyllis can muster up a little respect for, even if she does insist on ignoring most of their protocols, even the ones Alice herself has put in place. It's the others, the stream of hedgewitches who lack the appreciation, the deference for the knowledge the Library holds. Phyllis feels her stomach churn every time she has to watch one of them thumb carelessly through the pages of the most valuable tomes the Library possesses and feels bile in the back of her throat every time she allows them access to one of their rare and powerful artefacts.

Phyllis doesn't remember who suggested it first. No, that's not true. She remembers, she remember exactly who's idea it was, because it was her's.

“This experiment of Zelda's has clearly failed. These changes are unsustainable, unsuitable and completely at odds with everything the Library stands for.”

She said it during after work drinks with a couple of the other Librarians, her words the result of dissatisfaction, egged on by just one cocktail too many, and yet when Gavin shows up on her doorstep two days later with a briefcase, she isn't surprised. Horrified but not surprised.

“I'm been doing some work for the McCallisters,” he tells her, as he takes a seat on her brand new sofa, his shoes leaving a trail of mud on the carpet she's just had cleaned. “Private acquisitions.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“In fact, I was talking to Irene McCallister about you just the other day. Tea?”

“What?”

“How about some tea?”

“Right, yes. Of course.” Phyllis heads into the kitchen and begins to make up a pot of tea while Gavin continues to talk.

“The McCallisters were very interested in some of the things you had to say and they are in agreement with you. While they understand Zelda's desire for change after that unfortunate business with Everett, it's clear now, that putting Alice Quinn in charge of the Library with all of it's resources was a mistake. You know that, I know that and the McCallisters know that.”

Phyllis brings in the tray of tea and places it on the coffee table. She pours Gavin a cup and then adds milk and sugar, before pouring her own.

“Thank you.” Gavin takes a sip. “Miss Quinn and her friends, they've become drunk on their own power. They're not trying to fix the few, small problems that the Library has, they're trying to dismantle it and we have to stop them.”

“We?”

“Yes. Well, I can't do anything myself, I've been fired. But you, Phyllis, you still have access. You could do it.”

“Do what?”

“Kill Alice Quinn.”

Phyllis drops her cup. It lands on the carpet, so it doesn't break, but it does tip over, the tea spilling out across the carpet. Her heart jumps into her throat.

“What?”

“Kill Alice Quinn,” Gavin repeats. He says the words so casually that Phyllis feels a little sick as she watches him take another sip of his tea.

“No! No, I can't.”

“Of course you can. The McCallisters have taken a great interest in you, Phyllis. They have always recognised your potential and your talent. They are of the opinion that the Library would function much better with you at the helm.”

Phyllis is speechless. Her heart is pounding in her chest, her blood feels like it has turned to ice.

“I don't... What?”

“Zelda made a mistake in not choosing you as Everett's successor, they will not make that same mistake. The McCallisters are offering you an opportunity, you just have to be willing to take it.”

“I can't. I can't kill somebody.”

“It'll be easy.” Gavin picks up his briefcase and places it onto the coffee table. He pushes it towards her. “All you have to do is give her this.” He unlocks the briefcase and slowly opens the lid.

Inside is a small, circular stone, no bigger than a button. It's a cloudy, white colour with a streak of black running through the centre of it. It hovers in the middle of the briefcase, floating in the air. Phyllis reaches for it but Gavin quickly shuts the briefcase with a harsh snap.

“It's a Bieauid Hollys. It's ancient and powerful, and anybody who touches it will be consumed, their life force drained until there's nothing left but dust. The whole process takes at least three days. Nobody will suspect your involvement.”

“How did you get this?” Phyllis asks.

“A hedgewitch. He calls himself Lovelady,” Gavin says, the disdain obvious in his tone. “We took actions against him while Everett was still in charge. Reed's Mark. He was so desperate to have it removed that he happily gave us this in exchange. I don't think he really knew what he had.”

“Did you remove the mark?”

“Of course. The McCallisters keep their promises.” Gavin stands up and starts to walk around the room, trailing more mud across Phyllis' carpet. “And they take care of their friends.”

“I'm sorry, Gavin. I'm sorry that you lost your job, that was unnecessary, but what you're talking about, it's murder.”

“We do what we must, for the greater good,” Gavin says. He comes to a stop in front of her fireplace and looks at the photos that are there.

“No. No, absolutely not.” Phyllis pushes the briefcase away.

“Is this your sister?” Gavin takes one of the photographs from the fireplace. It's of Phyllis' sister, Annette and her niece, Louise. “And your niece? How old is she now? Two? The world has become such a dangerous place since the Library stopped controlling the flow of magic. Anything could happen to them.” Gavin very deliberately taps his finger against the glass and then places the photograph back onto the shelf. “Do we understand each other?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it. Say, I give Alice Quinn the Bieauid Hollys and everything will be fine. Say it,” Gavin tells her.

“I give Alice Quinn the Bieauid Hollys and everything will be fine.”

“Exactly.”

-----

It all happens so quickly, too quickly. Phyllis understands, at least logically she understands, Gavin and the McCallisters don't want to give her a chance to change her mind but there's something alarming and rather unpleasant about the fact that she finds herself walking into the main branch of the Library less than twenty four hours after Gavin's visit.

Her hands shake, the briefcase with the Bieauid Hollys inside tapping incessantly against her hip as she steps through the door.

The lobby is flooded with people. Phyllis’ grip on the handle tightens as she heads towards the elevator and joins the group of people already crowded around, waiting for the doors to open.

“Morning, Phyllis.”

“Dean Fogg,” Phyllis says as the elevator doors open and they step inside. “How are you this morning?”

“Very well thank you. And yourself?”

“I'm...” Phyllis hesitates. She doesn't really know how to the answer that question.

The elevator is already full and the doors are already closing when Phyllis sees Miss Orloff Diaz darting through the crowd, rushing towards the elevator. She throws her arm into the closing doors, forcing them back open and despite the side eyes and the grumbles from the other people in the elevator she manages to squeeze inside.

“Phyllis, I'm glad I caught you,” Kady says. “I have some forms I need you to sign for me.”

“This isn't the most convenient time,” Phyllis tells her but Kady is already thrusting the folders towards her. “Why don't you come to my office in an hour and I wil...”

“Sorry, but I'm in kind of a rush today. It's just the stuff we talked about last week.” Kady pushes the folders into Phyllis' free hand and then lets go of them. Phyllis has to grab them quickly before they spill out onto the floor.

“Here, I have a pen.” Kady holds it out for her, a black biro with barely any ink left, the end of which has been chewed away.

“Like I said, if you come to my office in an hour...”

“I don't have an hour. Please, I really need you to sign these.”

“Alright.” Phyllis lets out a shaky breath as she quickly looks around. The only person that is standing close to her is Dean Fogg. He's directly behind her and it almost feels like he's blocking her from the other people in the elevator. It makes her feels a little safer and she slowly lowers the briefcase onto the floor, grabs the pens and signs the forms as quickly as possible before she picks the briefcase back up and hands the forms back to Kady.

“Thank you.”

The elevator doors open and Kady steps off. So does Dean Fogg. Phyllis stays on for another six floors and is the last person in the elevator when she finally steps off.

He whole body seems to shake as she walks down the long corridor to Alice Quinn's office. Her heart pounds, her knees feel weak and she almost turns back three times. The third time she walks right into Sheila.

The briefcase is almost knocked from her hand.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Sheila says. “I'm so sorry. Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I'm fine.” Phyllis brings the briefcase up to her chest and wraps her arms around it, holding it tight.

“Are you sure?” Sheila asks. “You look a little pale.”

Phyllis' mouth has become unnaturally dry since she stepped off the elevator and she has to clear her throat before she speaks. “I think I might be coming down with a cold,” she manages to say and when that doesn't seem to satisfy Sheila, she continues. “It might be the flu.” She forces a smile and that does the trick.

“Well, I'll make sure to bring you some chicken soup tomorrow. It was my mother's recipe. It should fix you right up.”

“Thank you. That's very nice of you.” Phyllis decides right then that she needs to make sure that Sheila stays at the main branch when all of this nasty business is complete and she's Head of the Library.

“Are you going to see Alice?” Sheila asks.

“I erm... I...”

“Me too. Come on.” Sheila places her hand on Phyllis' lower back and the two of them walk towards Alice's office.

Sheila knocks on the door and a moment later the door opens. Alice smiles and welcomes Sheila with a hug. Phyllis doesn't get the same treatment, instead there's a curt smile and a nod of her head as she steps into the office.

Alice closes the door and as it clicks shut Phyllis feels the small chance she had of getting out of this slip away.

“Is that the artefact?” Alice asks, as she points to the briefcase.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Phyllis walks over to Alice's desk and places the briefcase down gently and then steps back. She waits for Alice to open it or to at least question where she found the artefact – Gavin has already told her what to say – but Alice does neither, instead she just takes a seat at her desk.

“Would you like to do the honours, Sheila?”

“What? No!” Phyllis says, and she can hear the panic in her own voice. Sheila and Alice turn to look at her, both of them with their eyebrows raised. “I erm.. I...” Her heart pounds even faster and she can feel a bead of sweat creep down her neck as her eyes move from Alice to Sheila and then back again. “Surely, as Head of the Library, you should be the first person to view the artefact.”

“It's fine. Sheila.” Alice points to the briefcase again.

Sheila smiles and walks to the desk. Phyllis watches, a large lump in her throat as Sheila reaches for the latches. Every part of her, every molecule in her body is willing her to scream out, to snatch the briefcase from the desk and run. But she doesn't. She just stands there and watches as Sheila slowly opens the briefcase. Phyllis holds her breath.

Sheila frowns. “It's empty.”

“What?”

Sheila spins the briefcase around. Phyllis grabs at it and runs her hands along the lining, searching for the Bieauid Hollys but Sheila is right, the briefcase is completely empty. She feels a surge of bile rush up the back of her throat and her hand comes up to her mouth just to stop herself from being sick.

“Oh no.” Phyllis spins around, her eyes darting across the floor.

“Where is it?” Alice asks.

“I don't... There's clearly been a mistake of some kind,” Phyllis says, as she looks at the empty briefcase one more time, as if the stone is going to just magically reappear. But of course, it hasn't. “I've clearly misplaced the artefact. I'll just... I'll just go and find it.”

She rushes for the door.

-----

Phyllis meets Gavin in a small pub just a few blocks away from the main branch. It's closed and she has to knock on the door four times before it finally opens and she is able to slip inside.

“Were you followed?” Gavin asks, as he steps behind the bar, grabs a bottle of whiskey and he pours himself a double. He puts the bottle down and then changes his mind and pours even more into the glass. He doesn't offer to pour her one.

“I don't... I don't think so,” Phyllis says, but she's unsure. She didn't even consider the possibility.

“That's good. So, tell me what happened.”

“I don't know. Miss Quinn -” Phyllis chooses not to tell him about Sheila - “opened the briefcase and the stone was gone.”

“And where's the briefcase now?”

“I left it in Miss Quinn's office. Was that... Was that bad?”

“No. Losing the stone was bad, it means we have to start again.”

There's a knock at the door and when Gavin opens it, a tall man with sandy, blonde hair steps inside. The sleeves on his shirt are rolled up to the elbow and when he sees Phyllis he gives her a sly smile and his eyes move across her in a way that makes goosebumps rise on the back of her neck.

“Who is this?” Phyllis asks.

“Lovelady,” the man replies, with a certain amount of pride and an air of arrogance. “I'm sure you've heard of me.”

Phyllis doesn't respond.

“Yeah, you've heard of me.”

“The stone didn't work. We need something else,” Gavin says.

“I don't have anything else.” Lovelady takes a seat at the bar. He grabs Gavin's whiskey and takes a large swig. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care about the snarl that appears on Gavin's face.

Phyllis does.

“It was hard enough getting the Bieauid Hollys. I'm going to need that back, by the way, it's only a matter of time before Kady notices it's gone and that girl packs one hell of a punch.”

Phyllis looks over at Gavin and catches his eye, but he doesn't seem too concerned.

“Alice Quinn is still alive,” Gavin says.

“Yeah, well, it takes a couple of days. I told you that.”

“And in a couple of days she'll still be alive because the stone didn't work. So, you are going to have to find us something else.” There's a harshness in Gavin's tone, but again Lovelady doesn't seem to notice.

“And I told you, there is nothing else.” He finishes Gavin's whiskey.

“I don't think you're understanding the situation, Lovelady.” Her voice rings out. It echoes through the room with the same disdain that Gavin showed. There's footsteps, high heels on slate and Irene McCallister steps out of the back room. “We took care of your little problem.”

Suddenly Gavin grabs the back of Lovelady's neck and slams his head against the bar. Phyllis stumbles back. Her foot catches on a nearby stool and it topples over with a thud. Lovelady struggles but Gavin grips his arm, pins it against the bar and rips the back of his shirt.

“We kept our end of the deal,” Irene says, as she walks towards Gavin and Lovelady. “If you fail to keep up your’s then we'll be forced to put Reed's Mark back. Right here.” She taps the now exposed skin on Pete's shoulder. “Do we understand each other?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll find you something. I'm a known back scratcher.”

“Really?” Gavin says. He doesn't sound convinced.

“Yeah, I'm loyal.” And there's something in Lovelady's tone, a confidence despite his predicament that makes Gavin loosen his grip just slightly.

Phyllis sees them first. She doesn't try to say anything as Kady and Penny appear directly behind Gavin.

“Hello,” Kady says.

Gavin begins to turn around, but Kady beats him to the punch, literally. Her fist slams into his jaw and Gavin hits the floor. The side of his head slams off the edge of the stool Phyllis knocked over and he sprawls out, unconscious.

Irene is already casting. Penny grabs Kady's arm and the two of them duck down behind the bar as Irene throws a blast of energy in their direction. It misses them. Tables and chairs go flying, crashing into the wall as the room shakes.

Phyllis screams.

The front door is thrown open. The wood shatters, shards and splinters flying out. Phyllis scurries backwards. Her hands come up to protect her face from the debris.

Julia and Alice step into the pub together. They're casting, their fingers moving in perfect sync as they stare at Irene. Their cast is quick and clean, and powerful. Irene's hands are suddenly yanked together. She tries to turn but her ankles are pulled together, as well. There's a flash of blue light, almost like rope wrapped around her wrists and ankles. It winds itself around the rest of her body and she topples forward. She lands on the floor next to Gavin.

Phyllis holds her breath and waits, because she knows that it's her turn next. Alice glances in her direction but she says nothing. Phyllis doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, so she stays on the floor, keeps herself small and quiet.

She watches as Penny and Kady step out from behind the bar and check on Lovelady.

“You alright, Pete?” Kady asks.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” He stands up and tries to adjust his now ripped shirt as best he can. He looks at Julia and smiles.” Hey, Julia.”

“Hey,” Julia replies and Phyllis can almost see the eye-roll.

“Thank you for telling us about the attempt on my life,” Alice says, and again she glances in Phyllis' direction. “It's appreciated.”

“I told you, the one thing I am, is loyal.” He looks at Kady. “Besides, I like that the Library now owes me a favour. Plus, no more Reed's Mark. Other than a ripped shirt, today's been a good day.” He steps away from the bar and walks towards the door, only to stop and lean towards Julia. “Listen, if you're not doing anything ton...”

“I'm busy,” Julia says, as she steps away from him and towards Alice.

“Another time then.” Lovelady walks out of the bar before Julia can respond.

“Look at you. All so pleased with yourselves,” Irene says, her cheek resting against the floor as she looks up at Alice and Julia. “But you can't do anything to me. I'm a McCallister and thanks to your own reforms you no longer have any little cells to keep me in.”

“You're right,” Alice tells her. “The Library is no longer in the business of imprisoning people. Unfortunately for you, we know a place that is.”

“You murdered the Fairy Queen, in front of witnesses. She was a citizen of Fillory. Did you really think they would just forget?” Julia adds.

Phyllis sees Irene's face drop, all of her confidence just falling away.

“I think High King Margo will have a few things to say to you,” Alice says. “Penny.”

“I'll make sure they get there.” Penny steps forward and places his hands on Irene and Gavin's backs, and the three of them suddenly disappear.

“What about me?” Phyllis asks, her voice nothing more than a shaky whisper. “What are you going to do with me?”

Alice contemplates for a moment and then she sighs. “You tried to kill me. If Pete hadn't come to us the moment Gavin approached him, you would've killed me. But Irene is right, we don't lock people up. Not anymore.”

“They threatened my sister and my niece. She's only two and I know that...” Phyllis stops and shakes her head, because it's only a half truth. “You should fire me.”

“You're right, I should.” Alice turns away from her. “I know we said we'd have dinner tonight but the paper work involved in an incident like this, it’s going to take hours to fill out.”

“Well, why don't we just bring dinner to you?” Kady suggests.

“I know a nice Italian place that does take out,” Julia says.

“Sounds good.” The three of them head towards the door. “Have you talked to Q lately?” Alice asks.

“Yeah. He actually sent me a bunny the other day, apparently he and Eliot are having a little boat trip around the outer islands,” Julia says. “Are you okay with that?”

Alice looks first at Julia and then at Kady.

“Yeah, I think I am.”

The three of them step out of the pub.

Phyllis doesn't know what to do. She stays on the floor, her eyebrows furrowing as she stares at the door, waiting for them to return. Her hands press against the cold, hard slate. There's a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes as the second tick slowly by, but when Alice and the others don't return she slowly climbs to her feet.

Phyllis steps out of the bar and the first thing she sees, standing on the other side of the street, is Dean Fogg. He stares at her, gives a slight nod of his head and then slowly lifts up the briefcase that he's holding. Her briefcase.

And the realisation hits her like a ton of bricks.

#the welters library #welters challenge 2019 week 1 #the 2019 welters challenge #The Magicians #The Magicians Spoilers #Fic

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ittybittyblondie · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magicians (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Margo Hanson/Alice Quinn, Kady Orloff-Diaz/Julia Wicker Characters: Eliot Waugh, Margo Hanson, Quentin Coldwater, Theodore "Ted" Rupert Coldwater-Waugh, Alice Quinn, Julia Wicker, Kady Orloff-Diaz Additional Tags: Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Parenthood, Father-Son Relationship, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ice Skating, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Kid Fic Summary:

Eliot, an ex-professional ice skater is hired by the King of Fillory to help his son, Teddy, put on a holiday skating performance. As Eliot spends more time in the palace they both find themselves drawn to each other, but relationships are hard enough without a whole nation watching and Quentin has to put his country and his son above everything else.

I had the most fun writing this, and a massive thank you to @leighbirdart for her artwork, it’s amazing and you should all go and shower her with the praise she deserves.

Thank you to @themagicianshhe for organising this event!

#MHHE #the magicians #Queliot #queliot fic #the magicians fic

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phantombones · 6 years

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VICTOIRE WEASLEY really is the spitting image of DICHEN LACHMAN, right? For someone only TWENTY-SEVEN years old, VIC has been forced to endure so much. Yeah, that 1/8TH VEELA has been scraping by at the sanctuary since MARCH 2028, working as a SOLDIER in the DIVISION OF PROTECTION. SHE identifies as GENDERQUEER and is known to be RELENTLESS and SELF DESTRUCTIVE but also LOYAL and STRATEGIC. Best of luck surviving through this.

CHARACTER INSPO: Mercutio ( R+J, some book influence, LITERALLY the only I really need ), Kady Orloff Diaz ( The Magicians ), Sara Lance ( Legends of Tomorrow )

PINTEREST: [ x ]

Before I get into descriptions about her, I believe her function in the Order, and now the Division of Protections. Then after the breakout. Just some quick points about the NOW. After that will be characterization and base:

Was a Dragolonist traveling all sorts of places, living out her dream. She would consistently come home to visit her family, the love of her life Aster, who’s relationship I’ll get into more. When everything started to happen, she moved back home, finally settling down in Aster’s place ( it became theirs ) when it was once just a temp home. She didn’t sleep as she worked as a strategist for the Order, constantly thinking of ideas and plays, often visiting her family members at all hours of the night, patrolling, making sure they were okay.

Aster Lestrange ( unless the name is diff PLS LMK JO ) and her were first friends because they watched as she struggled to charm her hair the way she wanted ( she’s NOT the best at Charms, especially when it came to hair coloring charms ). Here was this person, who offered to do her hair, who saw her chaos and found it intriguing. Who saw her in her entirety, the dark, the angry and she fell in love with them before she even knew she had. They were her best friend ( besides her bffs Nova & Lexie and all her lovely family members ) and were together. After school, she was constantly working on taking her career off the ground, but practically had all her things at Asterion’s. Vic didn’t want to get married at first, not a for a few years, but the fact was? She loved them and she knew that they were her soulmate. Her red string. They got married and Vic truly wondered why they hadn’t done so earlier.

When the outbreak happened, she was scared and went to her dragon reserve in Romania to make sure the dragons were protected and her work archived and protected as well. She helped pioneer the movement to Hogwarts I imagine, and on the way, Aster died saving her life. At least, she thinks they died, as they protected her from an attack, was hurt, and just left. She knew them, she knew how much they cared about her but she aches and she hurts. Victoire broke down the minute she was safe in Hogwarts, the first time she’d cried that way in years, crying for what was probably hours. There’s a hope, because if anyone could still be alive it would be Aster who was brilliant beyond compare. Even though it’s nearing a year since she’s last seen them. Victoire doesn’t move on, doesn’t dye her hair different colors anymore as Aster had done it for years, even though it’s part of her it’s her version of mourning. Her hair back to it’s blonde reminds Victoire who she’s fighting for her besides her family, it’s the only grief she allows herself because she pushes forward. She has no option but to do so.

The anger that had been quelled and somewhat more under control for years, reared it’s ugly head with a vengeance. Victoire became a soldier because she was a dueling beast on the field, coming back from every mission covered in blood, guts, everything often using the knife collection she has on top of magic. I imagine that she’s also very much a fighter for them and protects people on supply runs, and while she wants to join the Government sector sometimes, she thinks of how much better Aster would be at the job instead. She has ideas, and her mind is strategic, but there’s not much strategy they can do when their main focus is on survival. While Vic tries to distract herself, when she’s not bothering & checking up on her family, she’s constantly training with with her wand and an array of muggle weapons. Over the last 8+ months, she’s sharpened her combat skills, learning all she can, pushing herself to exhaustion, because she can’t lose anyone else. She refuses to lose anyone else.

Vic’s personality is a mixed bag, something I’ve described below, but the way she is with people she loves and trusts and vastly different to people she doesn’t. She fluctuates from loud and crass, to charming and easy to get long with, to angry, aggressive, and combative. Childlike to serious, all of this at the drop of a hat. Her emotions are all over the place, she knows it, and without a war propelling her and just endless killing and surviving she doesn’t think she’ll be able to get a handle on it soon. Vic is ride or die loyal, the family member you ask to help you bury a body, the family member who’ll fight anyone at any time for you and a hell of a lot smarter than she acts.

Character Name: Victoire Apolline Delacour-Weasley

VICTOIRE: Twenty-seven years of hearing stories about those who died on her ‘birthday’ before her. Over a decade of not celebrating it when she realized what it meant to others. Of course, she understands that this is the burden she carries – while her cousins bear namesakes of those who had fallen before them, she is the painful reminder of the day they lost people – so they could win freedom. She is the h e l l f i r e that is left after a victory, scorching technicolor brutal memories into the minds of those who were left behind. Still, she is a Victory none the less, and her family adopted her May 2nd, when she was a baby. They chose her instead of the pain, they named her after the good instead of seeing the bad. Though she’s an Aries, the day is both a special day of happiness & a day of reflection. A bitter reminder. APOLLINE: The french derivative of the name Apollonia which comes from the Greek god, Apollo. Apollo, the god of the sun, prophecy, music, beauty, healing, poetry, plague and so much more. It could be said that Victoire is her own brand of beautiful – of course the Veela genes help ( or do they? ) but if there’s anything she’s gotten from this namesake it’s the love of music. She’s sure that if she wasn’t going to work with dragons when she was older it would be with music – something she practically speaks as a language. The name might sound too flowery or too soft for Victoire – but her grandmother from which she was given this name was still a Veela. She still had the siren song that was deadly to almost associated with her name. Still, just because Victoire is comparable to a constantly raging storm – she has times where parts of her mother and grandmother comes out. DELACOUR: While she embraces the Weasley, Victoire also embraces her mother’s French heritage. If there’s anything of her mother, of this side of the family that comes out – it’s when she speaks French. She refuses to call her mother anything but maman, and will quickly switch to French around her during Weasley-Potter-Lupin gatherings at the burrow to make her feel even a little more comfortable. For Victoire, the Delacour name embodies softness and embodies femininity that she’s not always connected to. It reminds her that she’s not been alone in being discriminated against or objectified, that others understand what it’s like to be in her place to some extent. It’s then that she’s able to embrace the girl, that she’s able to feel like one and not always so at war with her body and herself. WEASLEY: If the other parts of her name didn’t already come with enough precedence – perhaps the name ‘Weasley’ was the icing on the cake. She couldn’t be prouder to be a Weasley, no matter how much fussing her grandmother does or how everyone is in everyone’s business – Victoire knows she is lucky. Vic is well aware of how privileged she is & how her infamous family of blood traitors are lucky to have the life they do. Even though she looked different from her immediate family, so did so many of her other extended family members. She took comfort in the fact that Weasley-Potters were a mixed bunch, in personality, in races, in ideals, and her being different was celebrated. There may have been a thirst to know her heritage the older she got, one that would later be quenched, but her real family were the Weasley’s. They chose her, they were better than her blood family ever was, not that she could remember them.

Pronouns & Gender: She/Her or Gon/Gons. Victoire identifies as Genderqueer

gender dysphoria tw

C h a n g i n g. From the minute Victoire was born, she was always fidgeting, always moving and her first display of magic was at 4 years old, when she tried to change her hair blue like Teddy’s. Instead, it changed her beautiful crop of dark brown into a dirty blonde. Often, she’d find herself envying Teddy’s abilities to change, feeling uncomfortable in her skin and angry that it wasn’t as easy for her. As she grew older, she came to understand what her body was, what it would be and that she’d never be able to change herself like Teddy or change herself at all. Any change that she’d make would be permanent and she found herself not wanting that in the slightest. Not wanting to limit herself because while Victoire loved her feminine side – there was something she felt growing in her soul that was just … something else. She felt there was just so much else she couldn’t define. Masculine, feminine, in between, she felt comfortable in the fluidity of it all. It didn’t have a label but it became her, it was her, and it was confusing but it was who she was. Victoire did research and after a while the closest thing she could find to what she felt her gender was the term: genderqueer. Of course, after she realized this she told her parents, getting nothing but support from them. A reason they’ve let Victoire dye her hair so much and wear clothes that some parents would have heart attacks at, is so she feels like she has an option to be who she is. Even though they know that their child will be who she is with or without their permission, they figure helping her along the way in a world where there are many people who are against what her gender is & think it’s unnatural. They are Vic’s parents after all and after a war where they lost family and friends who gave their lives so their children could have freedom – it seems trivial to ever fuss over something like gender. At twenty seven, Vic is more comfortable in herself but still struggles. She keeps it to herself instead of talking about her own dysphoria because it seems trivial compared the apocolypse going on around her, compared to so much else.

About/past: ( SELF HARM MENTION, VIOLENCE MENTION, MISOGYNY MENTION )

Stoℜm with skin. The performer. { Secret Strategist }. Masochistic with sadistic tendencies because she is just so filled with A N G E R ( being sexualized at a young age, her ass pinched on her first Hogsmeade trip, and so so much more that she doesn’t have a language to explain it in — only violent actions ). N o t that she’d let you know. Warrior, no, VALKYRIE more of a DRAGON than a girl ( if she ever was a g i r l in the first place ), fiercely protective of the people she loves — and if you dare mess with her family, friends, or any of the sort, you better run for oblivion. V I C T O R Y in her veins that she will hold onto until her dying breath.

Victoire Weasley is more than just a simple human being, she’s the true embodiment of what it means to be a storm with skin. Enigmatic even.

Victoire is quite sure of who she is, what she wants in life & what she will get,she’s quite sure of everything that she is —-

…but in those moments she blacks out in pure rage — she’s not so sure.

She’s h o r r i f i e d. In those moments where she looks for pain like she’s a drug addict and it’s her next fix, she mortified. She can’t remember how it quite started – a punch to the wall there after a fight, a purpose slap in the face, anything that released the rage she had. Victoire didn’t dare release it on the people she loved because she’d never be able to forgive herself for that, but it grew. The feeling grew and soon she had to hurt herself. But she can remember when she knew. When she needed reminders, when she needed blood and big bruises to litter her body. It’s something she’s so ashamed of, that she hasn’t let on to anyone. A reason Victoire craves fights and sometimes throws them is because of this masochistic need to hurt herself, to take a break from the anger – just letting people beat her to unconsciousness. Her anger is so great, so c o n s u m i n g, there’s the small hope if she finds a way to release it somehow – it’ll go away.

“I will always scare; and more than anyone else — myself.”

But when you meet her, she’ll s m i l e. She’ll laugh, she’ll charm you if she needs to and she’ll talk about the fact that Freddie Mercury is much more interesting than John Lennon, thank you very much. How Johnny Cash, Jeff Buckley, Arctic Monkeys, HAIM, and Aerosmith should be listened to at least once a day and how if she wanted anyone’s singing voice besides Freddie’s, it would be Hayley Williams, no doubt. She’d take off her shirt to show you the tattoos that run down her back, tell you about the ones that s n a k e down shoulders, arms, legs and how they’re ones dedicated to each and every one of her family members. For her best friends. For the person she loves. With child like w o n d e r m e n t and pure genuine glee, she’ll talk about her dragon, Mercury, and how her and Hagrid had planned to try to start a campaign to get real dragons at Hogwarts — or at least they had. Never has she doubted being a Dragonologist and never has she had so much peace.

Then, the war broke out bringing Inferi with it.

She had to put herself together, she had to keep herself more composed. Louis needed her. Dominique needed her. Aster needed her. They all did.

& she is now a hurricane. Controlled chaos because despite it all, she was a Slytherin for a reason. She’s manipulative, cunning, a silver tongue used mostly for words, and she felt she needed to become some sort of matriarch. There were crushing expectations that were supposed to do just that but were thrown out the window since day one. Now, the expectations of being Victoire Weasley must be embraced. Now, they are because her family needs her, and she finally can be what they wanted her to be. A leader of sorts. Their VICTORY. Beneath the chaos is kindness she shows to people, is the gentle touch and wise words that make you wonder — who exactly is Victoire Weasley?

Maybe she was born for battle. Valkyrie. “Fear doesn’t shut you down, it wakes you up.”

( For once, the storm that c o n s t a n t l y raged around in Victoire’s mind started to quell, a soft smile dawning on her face like a pink sunrise. The memory rushed back to her, it calmed her.

“I remember the first time I visited Uncle Charlie in Romania. And the dragons. So many fucking dragons.” Blue eyes light up, because this — this is her niche. Her favorite area to talk about, it’s what she knew — dragons.

“I remember seeing fire and just — I wrote to everyone everyday, I made Uncle Charlie take a million bloody pictures of me. Coming home, I wouldn’t shut up about them. I’d even forgotten to dye my hair that summer. Look —” She shrugs, the smile blossoming into something so genuine, so effervescent, the personification of someone who talks about what they’re passionate about, really. “ — I’ve gone there every summer since. And I’m going to let you in on a little secret, “

For a moment, Vic’s sure that she’ll open up, actually let someone in on a piece of her special world, in a crevice of her mind. But she can’t. She can’t talk about the fact that going to Uncle Charlie’s is the only place she feels calm, where she doesn’t feel a war in her brain that translates into bruised knuckles due to bar fights. How she likes the pain, that maybe she’s masochistic, deeply so. No, instead, there’s the m i s c h i e v o u s glint in her eyes as she simply says, “ — the Romanian Longhorn is much prettier than they are dangerous. “

The same couldn’t be said for Victoire Weasley. )

A hurricane, in the middle of a chaos, who came to find that maybe she was born to fight.

#inferi intro #vic tag tbd #I MEAN!!! ill never use that gif and she wanted to make an entrace~#entrance** jfc #this intro is such a mess it's like i wrote the first part as like a NOW summary and the second is her as a teen and early?? adult??#wyd jinx

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physicalkidscottage · 7 years

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Hearts Once Removed Part 2

Marina owns a speakeasy (and Kady). Julia, best and broodiest hard boiled detective in New York (with a talent for the paranormal), has been a regular customer of Kady’s for a while. Feelings ensue. Not strictly necessary to read part 1 but you’ll probably enjoy this more if you do.

Part 1

“This bothers you.”

“Of course it bothers me.”

“It shouldn’t. I mean. It’s certainly not the first time it’s happened to me.”

Kady studiously ignores the dark look Julia turns on her, rolling over to grab her robe from the side of the bed instead. By the time she finishes slipping it on, Julia’s turned back to the dusky evening sky outside the window she’d finally paced over to a few minutes ago in pure frustration. Leave it to goal oriented Julia Wicker to be so focused on this she straight up ruins a good several hours of not at all unpleasant tussling by moping.

Kady pours them both scotches from an expensive bottle Marina’d started keeping her cabinet stocked with, probably especially for Julia. Ever since Kady roughly sketched the details for her, withholding her own thoughts on most of it, of the failed dinner Marina had become inexplicably obsessed with keeping Julia satisfied. It probably helped that Julia was there every day long enough for the summer heat to finally break and then abruptly stopped showing up at all for long enough that fall cool had set in.

Chasing down some…something vaguely ominous and not-normal sounding in her job somewhere in Chicago, she’d told Kady in a non-apology that first night back in her room passing a cigarette back and forth. That was two weeks ago and Marina still didn’t know why Julia had disappeared for so long. It made Marina edgy. Kady intended to keep it that way. She was fond of good scotch and tormenting Marina.

Plucking up both glasses in one hand, Kady dexterously scoops a blanket off the end of the bed as she pads over to Julia, her bare feet chilled on the cold hardwood. Julia takes a glass from her almost by rote, barely looking at her, dark, hooded eyes lost somewhere far away.

Whatever weird, not-normal things Julia deals with in her work, it’s the ghosts that live inside her that haunt her most. Amorphous and grasping, Kady could almost see the icy fingers of all that dark spreading just under Julia’s skin. It’s a certain kind of frozen stillness, to the average onlooker it might be mistaken for stone…but it was ice. Cold. Brittle. Prone to breaking.

Kady settles the blanket over Julia’s shoulders and gently tucks herself in behind her, one long arm slung over her shoulder and dangling across her chest, chin against her temple. Sips her scotch. Casual. Mindful of Julia’s skittish almost flinch. Brittle. Watch for cracks. Shattered emotional ice like shrapnel is not on Kady’s list of things to deal with tonight.

“Sometimes it’s just not the night for it, Wicker. Jesus. Orgasms aren’t the end all be all of sex. Haven’t you ever heard that it’s the journey not the destination that matters?”

“Only from people who aren’t good enough to get where they want to go.”

Kady grins, “Well, we got to all kinds of good places last night. So, I wouldn’t stress over one night of wandering.”

Kady feels it, ice starting to melt, a slight loosening in Julia’s shoulders and the hint of a small smile in her voice, “When we weren’t fighting over who gets to be on top.”

“C’mon, Ivy League. We both know that no matter where we are physically, you’re always on top.”

That does it. Julia laughs, one of her husky, ice melting into rushing river, self deprecatingly wicked laughs and raises her glass in self congratulatory agreement.

“I don’t know why you keep fighting me anyway,” Kady surprises herself by adding. Suddenly, she’s not sure if she’s still talking about sex.

 Apparently, Julia isn’t either. She leans away from her a bit, tilts her head up to look Kady in the eyes. The problem with the ice melting Kady didn’t anticipate: the rushing river of Julia Wicker at her keenest, undistracted by her own ghosts, bowling her over with one look.

Kady laughs like a joke didn’t land, shrugs one shoulder, sips her scotch and shifts her eyes to look out the window again.

“Oh, are we doing this now?” Julia is still looking at her, she can feel those matter-of-fact eyes on her. Damn it.

Kady twists her shoulders awkwardly, withdrawing her arm. The silence stretches. Damn it.

She walks over to the dressing table, sets her scotch down. Turns and leans back against the table, arms braced next to her, coiled tight.

“What are you doing here, Julia?”

Julia crosses her arms, tilting her chin up, blanket still draped over her shoulders against the chill. Only Julia could be that small and look regal instead of vulnerable wrapped up in a blanket. Julia’s lips twist and she opens her mouth to answer. Kady’s raised hand stops her.

“Don’t tell me you’re just a paying customer. You’ve been here every night for two weeks. Even tonight when getting laid was obviously the last thing on your mind. You very carefully don’t ever fall asleep in my bed. You flinch any time I touch you unless we’re fucking. But you stand and stare out that window like you’re waiting for me to come wrap my arms around you and tell you how beautiful the night is. And all I want is to ask you how your day was, but you’ve been clear that’s not the kind of thing we do.”

Julia presses her lips together, looks down, arms still crossed, but shoulders hunched like they really are in a fight. Kady pushes off the dressing table, steps carefully forward, suddenly soft again. If they’re going to do this, she’s determined to do it right. She stands close. Doesn’t reach out. Then, quietly, “What are you doing here, Julia?”

“I swear to god…I don’t know,” Julia finally answers, a jagged, painful laugh underscoring that admission. Then, very quietly, “I really wish I did.”

After a long moment, she closes the meager distance between them. Like a tree finally bowing under the weight of all that ice, Julia slowly leans in, settling her forehead against Kady’s chest. Her arms, still crossed tightly around herself, press against Kady’s ribcage. A sighing breath washes warm across Kady’s collarbone, “Ask me how my day was.”

In surprised reflex, Kady lifts her arms, settling them around Julia. “How was your day?” she asks obediently. Julia shifts a little closer, leaning more against her, and Kady tightens her arms, tucking her head under her chin. Larger than life Julia has never seemed so small.

“A couple patrol guys got sent to an abandoned warehouse when someone passing by complained of a smell. Apparently, some local women were using it as a safe house,” Julia’s voice is matter of fact. “Six of them. They found them all dead. Hearts ripped out.”

Kady lets her eyes close, mourning for those women, but mostly for Julia. Julia who is matter of fact about people’s hearts being ripped out. Julia who is still in her arms, sad and heavy and who doesn’t know what she’s doing here. Reaching for things she can’t want. Julia who only knows how to save the world, and not to live in it.

“I’ve been looking for him everywhere. This is the second time here, four times in Chicago. Always the same. Always women. Always with their hearts ripped out. And I can’t find him and this keeps happening and I can’t stop it.” Julia takes a deep breath. “I have to stop it.”

Kady sighs. Nods a little, says, “There’s nothing you can do about it tonight though right?” Julia nods. Thinks to herself and that’s why you’re here and restless. Knows better than to say it. Instead she steps back, takes Julia by the shoulders, rubbing thumbs along knotted muscles gently. “Let me be in charge of tonight then. And tomorrow when the world needs saving, you take over again. Ok?”

“OK,” Julia’s ready agreement catches Kady entirely off guard.

“OK. Good. Right.”

“Sure you’re up for this?” the gentle, humorous challenge in Julia’s voice at her hesitation galvanizes her. She grabs Julia’s hand tugging her back to the bed, drags her under the covers with her.

Julia curls up on her side away from her and Kady very carefully tucks herself up behind her, wrapping an arm around her, half expecting a protest or seduction or a distraction or…something. Instead, Julia settles her arm over Kady’s where it rests around her waist. A warm tangle of arms and legs at the center of the bed washing away any last remnants of ice.

“Hey,” Julia taps a finger against the back of her hand gently.

“What?”

“You know why I still fight you?”

“Why?”

Julia lifts her head a little to grin over her shoulder at her, “Because it’s fun.” Kady is caught somewhere between a huff and a laugh. “I’m just saying,” Julia adds, settling her head against the pillow again, wriggling back a bit closer to Kady, “Don’t get too comfortable on me, Orloff-Diaz.”

Kady shakes her head, tucks her arm a bit tighter around Julia. “Yeah, yeah. We can fight some more tomorrow. Go to sleep, Jules.”

#the magicians #wickoff #julia wicker #kady orloff diaz #the faithful and pure of heart #pkc fic

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