#like obviously i did use this panel but i edited his hair and filled some empty space with chakra where they'd been obscured by the text :)

[princess-of-purple-prose]

[ID: A Naruto panel from VOTE1. Naruto cries while power emanates from him, and he growls, "Your friend." End ID]

And a quick edit I ended up not even using for my web weaving! I just edited out the title :)

#like obviously i did use this panel but i edited his hair and filled some empty space with chakra where they'd been obscured by the text :) #this is one of my faveeeee panels i am never not slavering at the mouth over it #'what are you?' (said with horror and fear) 'your friend' (said with unending love and determination) #cupping my hands over my mouth. are you non-naruto fans listening. these twelve year old boys are fighting to the death #because they don't know any other way to survive #and one is a monster and one is trying to be a monster #AND WHEN THE BOY TRYING TO BE A MONSTER ASKS THE MONSTER WHAT THE HELL HE IS. THE MONSTER SAYS HE'S HIS FRIEND. #naruto #naruto the boy #my posts #kay talks #described

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

#john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby fluff #john shelby series #john shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinder fanfic #john shelby smut #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

[carolinesiede]

Reflecting on 2020

The strangest thing about 2020 was how familiar much of it felt: Working from home, extended periods of isolation, weeks and months blending together. To a much lesser degree, those are things I experience each year as a freelancer. And while I suspect it will take awhile before the full extent of the trauma we’ve all lived through this year fully sets in, right now I’m mostly focused on gratitude. I’m grateful for the health of my loved ones. Grateful I already had a work-from-home routine to maintain during the pandemic. And grateful that I was able to quarantine with my family for much of the year—which had its challenges but also its rewards too.

In my 2019 year-end post I wrote about feeling like my career was finally on an upward trajectory after several years of plateauing. This year obviously offered some new wrinkles in that regard. I made significantly less money and felt familiar fears about how sustainable this career actually is. But having less work also gave me more time to focus on the actual craft of writing. I feel like I reached a new level in terms of voice, clarity, and the ability to self-edit. I'm the sort of person who constantly (arguably, obsessively) strives to be better, and it’s rewarding to feel like that hard work is finally slowly starting to pay off.

In addition to devoting my quarantine time to mastering a favorite curry recipe, getting really into the Enneagram, finally learning to French braid hair, and rewatching all of New Girl, I also had some really cool opportunities scattered throughout the year. I interviewed John Barrowman about his surprise return to Doctor Who, which felt like a real milestone for me. I also contributed to the Los Angeles Times’ list of TV shows to binge-watch during quarantine, which appeared both online and in print. And thanks to everything going virtual this year, I was able to attend a press panel for the fifth season of This Is Us, which is the sort of thing I’m not usually able to do as a Chicago-based critic. 

My career is always a juggling act between film and TV, and this year made me appreciate how valuable it is to be able to move seamlessly between both worlds. I took on new TV assignments covering the first season of Stargirl and the second season of The Umbrella Academy, both of which were a blast to write about. And while I didn’t watch quite as many films as I did in my insane catch-up year last year, I did fill in some more major blindspots. I also contributed to The A.V. Club’s list of the best films of 2000 and shared my own ballot over on Letterboxd. Oh, and I set up a Letterboxd this year too!

Elsewhere, I made my debut on Bustle and The Takeout, and ended the year with a Polygon article about “Kind Movies” that pretty much sums up my entire ethos on storytelling. I was also named a Top Critic by Rotten Tomatoes, which was a real honor. But the pride and joy of my career remains my rom-com column, When Romance Met Comedy. I devoted a whopping 49,000 words to analyzing 25 different romantic comedies this year. And I’m really pleased with how the column has grown and with the positive feedback I’ve received.

I have to admit, I sometimes worry that year-end highlight reels like this one can make my life seem easy or glamorous in a way that doesn’t reflect what it’s like to actually live through it. I'm tremendously lucky to get to do what I do, but I also struggle a lot—both with the logistics of this career and with bigger questions about what value it brings to the world. My goal is to approach 2021 with a greater sense of intentionality. I want to be more thoughtful in my career choices, more purposeful in how I use social media, and more active in my activism and politics. I’d also like to do 20 push-ups a day everyday for the whole year, but we’ll see how long that resolution actually lasts.

Finally, on a sadder note, one other defining experience of the year was the loss of my dear internet friend Seb Patrick, who I’ve known for years through the Cinematic Universe podcast. Seb created a wonderfully positive nerd space online, and was a big part of my early quarantine experience thanks to the Avengers watchalongs I did with the CU gang in the spring. I’m so grateful for all the fun pop culture chats we got to have throughout the years, several of which are linked below. Seb is tremendously missed, and there’s a fund for his family here.

As we head into 2021, I’ll leave you with wishes for a Happy New Year and a roundup of all the major writing and podcasts I did in 2020. If you enjoyed my work, you can support me on Kofi or PayPal. Or you can just share some of your favorite pieces with your friends! That really means a lot.

My 15 favorite films of 2020

My 15 favorite TV shows of 2020

Op-eds, Features, and Interviews

Women Pioneered The Film Industry 100 Years Ago. Why Aren’t We Talking About Them? [Bustle]

2020 is the year of the Kind Movie — and it couldn’t have come at a better time [Polygon]

Make a grocery store game plan for stress-free shopping [The Takeout]

What’s Going On: A primer on the call to defund the police [Medium]

Doctor Who’s John Barrowman on the return of Captain Jack Harkness [The A.V. Club]

Episodic TV Coverage

Doctor Who S12

This Is Us S4 and S5

Supergirl S5

Stargirl S1

The Umbrella Academy S2

The Crown S4

NBC’s Dr. Seuss’ The Grinch Musical!

When Romance Met Comedy

Is The Ugly Truth the worst romantic comedy ever made?

Working Girl’s message is timeless, even if the hair and the shoulder pads aren’t

You’ve Got Mail and the power of the written (well, typed) word

Love & Basketball was a romantic slam dunk

How did My Big Fat Greek Wedding make so much money?

America eased into the ’60s with the bedroom comedies of Doris Day and Rock Hudson

I can’t stop watching Made Of Honor

Notting Hill brought two rom-com titans together

It’s time to rediscover one of Denzel Washington’s loveliest and most under-seen romances

Something’s Gotta Give is the ultimate quarantine rom-com

20 years ago, But I’m A Cheerleader reclaimed camp for queer women

On its 60th anniversary, Billy Wilder’s The Apartment looks like an indictment of toxic masculinity

The Wedding Planner made rom-com stars out of Jennifer Lopez and Matthew McConaughey

After 25 years, Clueless is still our cleverest Jane Austen adaptation

William Shakespeare invented every romantic comedy trope we love today

Edward Norton made his directorial debut by walking a priest, a rabbi, and a Dharma into a Y2K rom-com

The forgotten 1970s romantic comedy that raged against our broken, racist system

His Girl Friday redefined the screwball comedy at 240 words per minute

Before Wonder Woman soared into theaters, the hacky My Super Ex-Girlfriend plummeted to Earth

Dirty Dancing spoke its conscience with its hips

The rise of Practical Magic as a spooky season classic

In a dire decade for the genre, Queen Latifah became a new kind of rom-com star

Years before Elsa and Anna, Tangled reinvigorated the Disney princess tradition

Palm Springs is the definitive 2020 rom-com

Celebrate Christmas with the subversive 1940s rom-com that turned gender roles on their head

The A.V. Club Film & TV Reviews

Netflix’s To All The Boys sequel charms, though not quite as much as the original

The Photograph only occasionally snaps into focus

Jane Austen's Emma gets an oddball, sumptuous, and smart new adaptation

Pete Davidson delivers small-time charms in Big Time Adolescence

Council Of Dads crams a season of schmaltzy storytelling into its premiere

In Belgravia, Downton Abbey’s creator emulates Dickens to limited success

Netflix’s Love Wedding Repeat adds some cringe to the rom-com

Netflix takes another shot at Cyrano de Bergerac with queer love triangle The Half Of It

We Are Freestyle Love Supreme is a feel-good origin story for Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first troupe

Sara Bareilles’ melodic Apple TV+ series Little Voice is still finding itself

Netflix’s sexist rom-com sensation gets a minor upgrade in The Kissing Booth 2

With Howard, Disney+ movingly honors the lyricist who gave the Little Mermaid her voice

The Broken Hearts Gallery tries to find catharsis in heartbreak

Netflix’s ghostly musical series Julie And The Phantoms hits some charming tween high notes

After We Collided slides toward R-rated camp—but not far enough

Holidate is a bawdy start to Netflix’s holiday rom-com slate

Kristen Stewart celebrates the Happiest Season in a pioneering queer Christmas rom-com

Isla Fisher gets her own Enchanted in the Disney Plus fairy tale Godmothered

Podcast Appearances

Debating Doctor Who: “Orphan 55”

It Pod To Be You: The Wedding Singer

Reality Bomb: Defending Doctor Who’s “Closing Time”

The Televerse: Spotlight on Doctor Who Season 12

You Should See The Other Guy: The Ugly Truth

Only Stupid Answers: Stargirl’s season finale

Motherfoclóir: Ireland and the Hollywood Rom-Com

Called in to Nerdette’s Clueless retrospective episode

Cinematic Universe Appearances

Cinematic Universe: Superman IV: The Quest For Peace

Cinematic Universe: Birds of Prey

Cinematic Universe: Infinity War watchalong

Cinematic Universe: Endgame watchalong

Cinematic Universe: Terminator 2

Cinematic Universe: Josie and the Pussycats

Cinematic Universe: The Cuppies 2020 (Cuppies of Cuppies)

And here are similar year-end wrap-ups I did in 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, and 2013.

#Best Of #Year End #2020

[eilonwiiy]

Bookends ; a Witchlands AU

Chapter 3

Iseult is confronted with an opportunity that threatens to change the course of her future... 

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

“I hope you don’t mind me stealing you away.”

Evrane handed Iseult a cup of tea, the porcelain clinking delicately upon its saucer. A lazy swirl of steam rose into the air and Iseult gently blew across the top before taking a timid sip.

“Just what we need,” Evrane sighed, sinking into the high-back chair behind her desk as much as someone with her incomparable posture could. “Nothing like a hot cup of rose tea on a blustering winter morning.”

Iseult hummed in agreement, watching the fat chunks of snow falling outside the window behind Evrane. She had yet to regain feeling in her toes from the walk to work, but the tea and the quietly popping fire in the fireplace was helping.

Evrane’s office was an octagonal room that resided in the second tallest tower of the library. To get there you had to climb a long, winding spiral staircase and the first time Iseult had been invited to her office, she had never been more enchanted in her life. While the expected hints of modern technology littered Evrane’s desk area, the rest of the space was as gothic as the rest of the library, with a functioning fireplace, dark hardwood floors and paneling, and a high-domed ceiling. Bookshelves teeming with hundreds of leather-bound volumes lined the entire perimeter of the office, save for the three arched windows that stood behind the Evrane’s desk and framed her workspace in pale light.

Evrane took a sip from a cup before placing it on her desk. She sat so regal in her chair, yet completely at ease, her elbows resting on the arms and hands clasped together. She radiated assuredness. Purpose. Iseult shifted in her own, hoping to offer a reflection of sophistication to the woman sitting across from her. The leather squeaked awkwardly.

“Did you end up finding that first edition of The Raider King?” Iseult hurried to ask over the echo of that embarrassing sound in her ears, sure it would haunt her in her most unsuspecting moments for many years to come.

Evrane shook her head with a weary smile. “Not yet, but I haven’t lost hope. My attic is more of a time capsule than actual storage space. I haven’t touched some of the boxes up there since I moved from Nubrevna - and that was a significant number of years ago. It will turn up.” She smiled again at Iseult, the flames from the fire danced in her emerald green eyes. Iseult resisted the urge to squirm in her chair again and restored to taking a lengthy sip from her cup.

“So Iseult," began Evrane, a noticeable change in tone. Iseult latched onto it. “I have an idea I’d like to propose to you and I’m hoping you’ll find it as agreeable as I do."

Iseult’s cup froze on her saucer. “An idea?”

“An opportunity,” Evrane amended. “I’ve been quite pleased with how well you’ve taken to your job here, but if these past several months have taught me anything, it’s that you can do much more.”

Iseult blinked in surprise. A ripple of trepidation fluttered in her stomach, nearing something close to pride, but the crypticness of Evrane’s statement made it difficult for her to fully embrace the feeling. “Do… more?”

“Precisely. I’ve sincerely enjoyed our conversations, Iseult. Your repertoire is quite extensive for someone so young. Clearly, you can do more than shelve books. Though,” Evrane chuckled, “there is never a shortage of books to be put away.”

Iseult willed her face react, barely more than a tight-lipped smile.  But the rest of her sat very still, hinging on Evrane’s every last word.

“As you know, Nadaya left us a couple weeks ago on maternity leave, and won’t be back until May. Though I've known of her departure for quite some time and despite the a stack of applications waiting to be read through, I find myself reluctant to do so. I was wondering - well, I was hoping - that you would be interested in taking up the mantle.”

“You want me to replace Nadaya?”

“It would only be temporary, of course. But with your knowledge of children’s literature and enthusiasm for YA, I can’t think of a more suitable person to fill the position.”

“I d-don’t have a library science degree.” I don’t have a degree, Iseult thought.

“That hardly matters,” Evrane dismissed, waving a hand, silver bracelet tinkling musically from the motion.  She reached for her tea. “At least, while this is temporary. You know books, Iseult. That is what counts."

“But,” Iseult stammered. “Won’t the other librarians mind?"

Evrane’s eyebrows bounced mildly over her teacup. “Mind?”

“I mean, won’t they be bothered to have someone under-qualified hired?”

It was Evrane’s turn to look surprised. “I think they’ll be relieved to finally have someone picking up the slack in the Children’s Room.”

“The Children’s Room.” Iseult swallowed. Of course. That’s where Nadaya worked, so obviously, that would be where Iseult worked. “What would that entail?”

Though Iseult hadn’t accepted yet, Evrane perked up at the question and eagerly set her tea down. “If you’re worried about missing your cart, I promise you there will be plenty of shelving opportunities down in the Children’s Room.”

“Oh. Good,” Iseult replied, trying to keep her voice normal despite the confusing sense of panic welling in her chest. “I’d hate for it to develop abandonment issues.”

Evrane studied Iseult, her expression unreadable, but her gaze seemed to soften.  “Really it will be very similar to what you do up here, except now you’ll also work the desk. You’ll check out patrons, check-in returned books, assist patrons when needed. You don’t have to contribute to any programming, except for potentially covering the occasional story time. Unless you’d like to, of course. It’s all very straightforward, Iseult. Nothing you can’t handle. Aside from learning the catalog software, I don’t foresee you having any trouble adjusting.”

Iseult nodded, but Evrane’s words slid off her like oil to water. She would be working with the public - and not just people. Children. That thought alone was enough to send her running.

But Evrane believed in her. She wanted her to take the job. She’d held off interviewing more qualified and worthy candidates for her. And instead of feeling flattered, Iseult couldn’t let go of the churning dread threatening to capsize her composure.

Evrane had said it would be temporary… then why did accepting her offer feel so monumental? Iseult wasn’t even supposed to be here. She was supposed to be at school. Studying, working towards - something. Accepting Evrane’s offer felt like taking another step away from that life. Her old life. Hell-gates, what was she even doing here? Sipping tea and eating biscuits? She was wasting time that could be spent working a third job, making money to send home to her mother, getting her life back on track. Getting herself back to where she was supposed to be. She needed to go. She needed to politely decline, rethink her priorities, and-

“Iseult?” prompted Evrane gently. “What do you think?”

                                              *   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

The bell above the front-door to Mathew and Habim’s coffee shop jangled and a burst of warmth greeted Iseult as she stepped inside. Behind the wool scarf wrapped around her face, she sighed, relieved that the blistering cold and the 7 blocks standing between here and the library were behind her. She could already feel herself beginning to thaw.

Jitters was as it always was, looking more like an overgrown living room than a coffee shop. Mismatched furniture sprawled out over worn rugs of clashing patterns and on the walls hung tapestries and artwork with no real cohesion to them. A fire crackled in the brick hearth, where several customers were huddled around on a lumpy, velvet sofa and shabby armchairs. Nondescript instrumental music wafted from an ancient radio behind the counter - soft enough to not intrude on customers’ conversations, but loud enough to hug the shop in perpetual state of homeiness.

Iseult loved the dingey hole in the wall shop for all that it was, and even though it wasn’t hers, it felt like hers - hers and Safi’s. Since branching out and opening several more shops throughout the Witchlands, the owners Mathew and Habim now only popped in from time to time, and in the last few visits it had been obvious that they were more interested in seeing her and their goddaughter, not the shop. Their baby was in capable hands, they’d told them. It also helped that they now had an actual baby to take care of.

“You can’t hide from me, Iz. I’d know that pink nose anywhere.”

Safi stood behind the coffee counter wearing the mossy green apron all Mathew and Habim’s employees wore. Iseult pulled off her hat, hair slightly askew, and tugged down the scarf obscuring half of her face. “You found me.”

The smell of nutmeg and roasted coffee grains immediately filled Iseult’s nose. Wiping her boots on the doormat, she shuffled across the shop’s creaky floorboards and joined Safi behind the counter. She shrugged off her backpack and started the arduous process of unraveling herself.

“How was work?” Safi asked, extending an apron to Iseult and waiting patiently for her to finish unbuttoning.

“Apocalyptic,” replied Iseult, trading Safi and pulling the apron over her head.

“Really?” Safi walked around the corner and disappeared into the back office with Iseult’s coat and scarf draped over her arm. “Should I bother putting on another pot of coffee or is the end near enough that we can ditch these aprons and achieve our life’s ambition?”

Iseult tilted her head to the side. “Break into Mathew’s safe and find out the secret ingredient to his pumpkin cookies?”

Safi reappeared in the doorway with a scandalized look. “Raid Henrick’s office and burn it to the ground.”

“Ah right.” Iseult sighed glumly, pulling the apron tight around her waist and tying it off. “No, you should make the coffee. I suppose people will want it regardless of whether or not my life is going up in flames.”

Safi shot her a curious look as she took her advice and started bustling around the back counter. “That’s… dramatic. Can I help you put out the flames? Coffee isn’t flammable, you know.”

Iseult fiddled with the strings of her apron, untying them only to retie them again. On some level, she knew that she was being, as Safi put it, dramatic. The dread she’d left Evrane’s office with was unnecessary baggage. Dead weight, her mother would have called it. Stasis had done nothing to discourage the rapid fire in her chest every time she thought of what tomorrow would bring. Nor had reciting her multiplication tables - a method Iseult had used as a child whenever she was on the verge of tears and Gretchya would scold her. She only resorted to her times tables in the most dire of situations. Graduating to division, if Gretchya was involved. But her anxiety only seemed to derive greater power from her desperate attempts to silence it. She should just keep it to herself. It’s what Gretchya would tell her to do.

“Evrane wants me to work in the Children’s Room.”

Safi’s eyebrows bounced in mild surprise. “So?”

Iseult shook her head. An impatient jerk. “So?” she repeated, incredulous. “So I’m terrible with children and should in no way be left alone with them. I don’t know the first thing about taking care of them.”

“Taking care of them?” Safi laughed. “You’re helping them find books, not saving up for their college tuition.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t know a thing about them.”

“You know what they read. I think that’ll come in handy, don’t you?”

Iseult took a deep breath and for a third time tugged her apron loose. There were times she relied on Safi’s quick wit. Like when aggressive men painted her with platitudes and unwanted attention. And then there were times she envied it.

Iseult often wondered what that would be like to laugh in the face of fear. To not only be able to shrug off life’s worries with a wink and a smile, but to pull up a chair and sit with it in comfortable silence. Her best friend had grown up with an alcoholic uncle, and though he hadn’t been cruel to her, Safi had weathered his debauchery, riding scandal after scandal with little help from anyone. She’d mastered the art of not giving a fuck, suffering much worse than Iseult ever had - so why couldn’t she?

Safi set down the bag of coffee grains and turned to face Iseult. “Do you want me to bail on my 4PM?” she offered. Concern laced her words. “The world may not be ending, but we could still do some damage.”

“If you’re going to give in to your urges to skip class this early into the semester, you’ll be graduating after me.”

“And yet here I am offering,” Safi countered, bracing her hands on the counter behind her and leaning back. “It won’t kill Polly to take notes for once.”

Iseult gave her a look.  “Oh, so you two are talking again?”

“I don’t know.”  Safi raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching.  “Are you?”

Right. Safi was still on that. The impromptu fireworks show her and the Nubrevnan had put on for everyone at the Cleaved Man may have been a spectacular performance, but it hadn’t been enough to make Safi forget about the drink Leopold had sent her. Iseult certainly hadn’t forgotten about it. It had been on her mind all weekend. She supposed she should give him a call. He was probably waiting to hear from her. A ‘thank you’, at the very least. And yet, three days had gone by, and Iseult had done nothing more than take out her phone a dozen or so times, open a new message, and then promptly tuck it back into her pocket.

Iseult turned to the clock mounted on the wall. “Oh, would you look at the time,” she deadpanned. “You’ll be late for class if you don’t get going.”

Safi blinked back at her unimpressed and gave the clock a disinterested glance. A split second later, she did a double take. Her eyes widened. “Weasel’s piss!” she hissed, clawing at the apron strings tied behind her back. “You aren’t kidding!” She swept past Iseult and flew through the tapestry leading to the back.

Iseult listened to Safi’s hurried footsteps climbing up the narrow spiral set of stairs that led to their attic apartment and the muffled string of curses she left in her wake. There was the unmistakable thud of the apartment door slamming shut, shortly followed by creaking floorboards and frantic shuffled footsteps overhead that, if Iseult hadn’t known better, sounded like they belonged to a small herd of elephants. A couple customers seated nearby perked up from their coffee and eyed the ceiling warily. Iseult smiled apologetically and quickly ducked down behind the counter to pick up Safi’s discarded apron.

The bell above the front door rang, announcing a customer had entered - or perhaps leaving because of Safi’s stampede. Iseult pushed up from the ground, knees cracking, apron clutched in her hand, and she was about to offer the usual “What can I get for you today?” when she saw who was at the counter and froze. “Ryber?”

One of the two girls standing in front of Iseult broke off the conversation she’d been having with her companion to look at her. Upon seeing her, the girl’s eyes sparked with recognition.

“Iseult!” she gasped happily. “I didn’t know you worked here!”

Iseult nodded, taking in Ryber’s broad smile and releasing a relieved breath. For a painstaking moment, she’d wondered if her former chemistry lab partner from last year would recognize her.

“I work and live here.” Iseult gestured to the ceiling. “My best friend and I live in the apartment above this place.”

Both Ryber and her companion’s eyes widened in fascination. “That’s so cool!” Ryber exclaimed. She swept a hand to the pastry display to Iseult’s right. “Cookies whenever you want! Never going without coffee on those nights when you’re up late cramming!”

“It has its perks,” Iseult agreed, ignoring Ryber’s assumption that she still had a reason to be up late studying.

“I wish we had a place of our own,” Ryber continued. “Tanzi and I still live in the dorms. We - oh, sorry Tanz!” She turned to her friend who had been hovering on the edge of their conversation in polite silence. She gave her an apologetic look. “Tanzi, this Iseult det Midenzi. We were lab partners last year. We almost didn’t make it out alive. And Iseult, this is my friend Tanzi Laminaya.”

“Best friend,” Tanzi corrected, poking Ryber in the ribs. Ryber nodded sagely, despite waving her off.

“Yes, best friend. My sincerest apologies.” Ryber shook her head and grinned at Iseult. “We’re living in Paladin’s Hall this year.”

“Nice,” Iseult said. “I’ve heard that’s the best dorm.”

“And the spookiest!” Tanzi chimed in.

Ryber moaned. “Don’t start with this.”

“It’s ok. I’ve heard the stories too,” Iseult intervened, giving Tanzi a friendly smile, who beamed smugly and tried to catch Ryber’s eye. Ryber ignored her. “The library that I work at is supposedly haunted too.”

“Our library is haunted too?” Tanzi all but squealed.

Iseult’s stomach twisted. Navigating these conversations was never not tiring. “No, not the school library. The Venaza City Public Library.”

Both Ryber and Tanzi nodded in understanding. “Wow, you make coffee, work at the library, and you go to school,” Ryber listed off, looking across the counter at Iseult like she were some sort of deity. “I have a hard enough time juggling two majors - nevermind two jobs.”

“Well,” Iseult began, but just at that moment, the sound of a baby elephant tumbling down the stairs came rumbling from behind the hanging tapestry and Safi stumbled out into the shop. Her knitted beanie slipped haphazardly from her head as she righted herself and stepped behind the counter.

“Safi,” Iseult breathed. The relief in her voice was painfully noticeable, but she was too happy to be saved from explaining to Ryber that she had dropped out of school to care. She swung her arm out and redirected Safi, who had no doubtedly been en route to grab a frosted donut and a cup of coffee. Safi gave her a bemused look as her hand pushed into her back, but went with it with nonetheless.

“Safi,” Iseult said again, introducing her, “This is Ryber and Tanzi. Ryber and I were lab partners last year in chem.”

Safi perked up. “Oh! The Bunsen burner malfunction of ‘19! I’m glad to see you still have all your hair.”

“Thanks,” Ryber laughed, fingering her long threaded braids. “I’d probably be bald if it weren’t for Iseult. And trying to resuscitate my GPA.” She shrugged sheepishly. “Science isn’t really my thing.”

Safi waved her off. “Leave the sciencing to the scientists. That’s what I always say.” It was dumb, but Ryber and Tanzi both laughed. “You two look like you’re heading back to campus,” Safi said, taking in their backpacks and the layer of snow covering them both. “Do you need a ride?”

“Seriously?” Ryber asked. Her and Tanzi exchanged hopeful looks. Their dark skin was pink with cold.

“Of course. Though, my Lebaron is older than I am, so there’s a 60/40 chance we may not make it.

“I’ll take that chance!” Tanzi said with gusto, looking to Ryber for confirmation, who nodded without reserve.

“Me too!”

“As long as you know what you’re getting into. But first I need coffee. And sugar. And maybe something salty. You guys want anything?”

Ryber craned her neck around Tanzi and examined the pastry display case. “Can we get three hot chocolates, a lemon poppyseed muffin, and two chocolate croissants?”

“And a fudge brownie?” Tanzi added.

“A wise choice,” Safi commented. “I’ll get working on those hot chocolates. Iseult, can you take care of the pastries?” Before turning around, Safi shot Iseult a sideways grin. Iseult felt her insides melt in appreciation.

Iseult reached for a paper bag and sidestepped over to the pastry display case. Ryber followed her along the opposite side.

“You said you work at the Venaza City Public Library, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Iseult said, reaching for the biggest fudge brownie on the platter.

“Sooo,” Ryber drew out. “I know you’re not working right now. Well, you’re working - here, not there - but I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”

Iseult stood up straight and met Ryber’s hopeful expression over the glass case. “Uh, sure. If I can help, I’ll try.”

“I’m looking for a book for my book club and I need to get a hold of multiple copies so everyone can read it. Otherwise, we’ll all have to share and instead of meeting every month, we’ll be meeting every ten years. The school library won’t let me put in a request for that many of the same book-”

“Can you believe that?” Tanzi interjected disapprovingly.

“-and I was wondering if I could put in a request at your library. Do they do that?”

For the second time since Ryber had walked in, Iseult felt relieved. Ryber was asking her something completely unrelated to school - and she could actually help her.

“Of course,” she answered. “We do that all the time. If you give me the titles, I can put in the request tomorrow when I’m at work. It usually takes about a week for the books to come in, depending on where they’re coming from.”

Ryber and Tanzi exchanged grateful looks. “Bless you!” Ryber praised her as she unzipped her bag, pulled out a notebook, and ripped out a piece of paper. “It’s just one book,” she said scribbling the title down. “But if I think of anything else, I know where to find you.”

“Great,” Iseult said as she traded Ryber for the scrap piece of paper and handed her the bag of pastries. She folded it into a neat square and tucked it into her pocket. “I’ll make sure to do it first thing tomorrow. When you come to pick them up, I can get you set up with your own library card.”

“Thanks, really,” Ryber said. “You know, if you’re interested you should join us. We try to meet every month, but it usually turns into every other month given everyone’s schedules. You know, it being junior year and all.”

“Right.” Iseult nodded uneasy. Ryber breezed on.

“Our dorm room is obviously too small for a group of people, let alone just us two, so we gather off-campus at my boyfriend’s place.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Safi appeared holding a cardboard tray stacked with three hot chocolates. Whipped cream peeked out of the sippy hole of each lid. “I wonder what that’s like.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds,” Ryber assured her.

“Oh stop being modest,” Tanzi sniped, poking Ryber in the ribs again. This must have been a thing she did regularly because Ryber barely flinched. “They’re crazy about each other.”

“Tanzi,” warned Ryber, but her friend ignored her.

“They’ve been inseparable ever since they met at Freshmen orientation. Well, all the times when she’s not with me, they are.”

“That’s your right as her best friend,” said Safi seriously. “I assume that’s who the third hot chocolate is for?”

“Of course,” Tanzi confirmed proudly, as though this were her boyfriend she was bragging about. It had to be a testament of how much she approved of him. Iseult could only wish the same on her and Safi when the time came and Safi brought a boy home. Iseult couldn’t fathom a universe where the roles would be reversed. “We’re off to wait outside his class and surprise him with sweets. Ryber likes to carry his books for him. He does the same for her all the time. No matter what, if he doesn’t have class, he’s there waiting for her.”

“Tanzi!” Pink dusted Ryber’s cheeks, embarrassed, but Iseult couldn’t miss the pleased smile she was fighting to hold back. Tanzi shook her head.

“Last year he waited two hours outside Noden’s Hall during a blizzard waiting for her philosophy class to get out, only to find out that the class had been cancelled because of the weather.”

Safi ‘aw’d and gazed wistfully at Ryber. Iseult couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes brightened. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen this shade of blue. It notably made appearances while they watched Pride and Prejudice like it was the first time and not the hundreth. For all her slandering of Caden and the race of men, the softness in her expression confirmed what Iseult already knew, but Safi would never admit to: she was a romantic at heart.

“He’s perfect in every way,” Tanzi boasted. “Well, except for one notable exception.”

And just like that, Safi’s harlequin moment evaporated. She leaned in greedily. “Oh what?”

“His best friend.”

Ryber whacked Tanzi’s arm, but Safi gasped, a little too gleeful in Iseult’s opinion. “Is he awful?”

“No,” Ryber said firmly at the same time as Tanzi groaned, “The worst.”

Safi shook her head and turned to Iseult. “That’s a pretty high offense, wouldn’t you say?”

Iseult nodded. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like if her boyfriend didn’t like Safi. Not that she was in any position to have a boyfriend, of course. But in a theoretical scenario, what would she do? Could she really love someone who didn’t love her best friend as much as she did? Assuming that she was capable of falling in love with someone in the first place, could she do that? Or what if Safi didn’t like her boyfriend? Would she break up with him? Even if she loved him?

Iseult bit the inside of her cheek. Apparently there would be no stasis today. Here she was working herself up over a fictional boyfriend in a fictional scenario that would never happen. She’d never even been kissed before. The man of her dreams wasn’t about to materialize out of thin air. She wasn’t even sure what he would look like...

“He’s not awful. He’s just…” Ryber trailed off, grasped for the right word. “Intense.”

Safi gave her a doubtful look. “So, he’s awful.”

Ryber burst with an exasperated laugh. “No, no, he’s a good guy. Really. He just has a lot to deal with. He has issues with his dad-”

“Daddy issues,” Safi mused in a mock tone. “Who doesn’t love that?”

“And he has a bad relationship with his sister-”

“Women troubles. Even better.”

“He pours his heart and soul into helping people, without ever asking for anything in return, even if he is a little intense about it. And, well... Kullen wouldn’t be friends with him if he wasn’t a good person. Because Kullen is a good person - the best, if you want my opinion. So, I trust his judgment.”

Ryber fell silent and her mouth quirked to the side, suddenly looking shy. She possibly hadn’t meant to be so honest to a complete stranger. To break the moment, she fumbled with her backpack and dug out her wallet. “How much do we owe you?”

Safi put up a hand and shook her head. “It’s on the house.”

Ryber broke out into a smile, eyes bright and free of embarrassment. Safi handed her the tray of drinks and hefted her backpack onto her shoulders. She turned to Iseult. “See you when I get home?”

“Always.”

Safi nodded. Something had crossed over her during Ryber’s speech, but Iseult wasn’t sure what. It wasn’t the same bright-eyed, fanciful look from before, but it was something. Iseult knew that much. She wanted to ask Safi what she was thinking, but before she could ask further, Safi was following Tanzi and Ryber to the front door. As they exited, they waved goodbye to Iseult.

“Think about book club!” Ryber called over her shoulder.

Iseult nodded her promise that she would, sensing, as the door jingled shut, that Ryber had given her more to think about than she knew.

                                             *   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

The next day found Iseult sitting alone at the desk in the Children’s Room waiting in tortured silence for her first patron to walk in.

The morning had started well enough. Hilga, the head librarian in the Children’s Department, had given her a tour of the room, as well as an overview of the software they used to catalog and circulate books. If Hilga disapproved of Evrane’s appointment of Iseult, she didn’t show it. On the contrary, she seemed ready to sob with relief when she tentatively asked Iseult if she would be able to manage without her for a bit if she spent some time in the back office to catch up on her book ordering. When Iseult said yes, she bustled around, thanking her profusely and set a tin of cookies by her computer, insisting that she help herself, before hurrying off.

There was only so much Iseult could do so early in the morning and with no one to assist, even less. She familiarized herself with the area behind the desk. Where to find library cards, important forms, museum passes, the stash of good pens. She tried her hand at the computer and managed to successfully put in the request for Ryber’s books as promised without bothering Hilga for help. And after taking a slower, more thorough tour through the room’s collection of books, she officially had nothing to busy herself with.

An hour later and not even the rumored ghost had made an appearance.

Iseult knew from her visits with the book cart that mornings were typically quiet if there wasn’t a program, and blessedly, there wasn’t. But that didn’t stop her from imagining the hundred or so catastrophes bound to disrupt her morning. She sat very still in her desk chair, hands clasped in her lap, listening intently to the silence, occasionally hearing Hilga’s unintelligible muttering from her office. A latte stood by the open tin of cookies, both untouched. Her insides were too wound up to eat or drink anything. Iseult didn’t need coffee; she needed Safi.

Moving for the first time in an hour, Iseult looked helplessly around the empty room and pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket. She cradled it in her lap, keeping it hidden behind the desk and began typing furiously. Safi’s second wave of morning commuters at the shop was probably settling by now, if she could just reach her-

Iseult’s fingers froze on her phone screen. A soft rustle of paper fluttered from somewhere in the room.

Heart stuttering, slowly, Iseult lifted her head. A flash of blue caught her eye from across the room.

It was the man with the opal earring.

And he was alone.

#the witchlands #witchlands #bookends #baeseult #iseult det midenzi #aeduan #safiya fon hasstrel #merik nihar #ryber fortiza #tanzi lamanaya #kullen ikray #truthwitch #my fics #mine

[gillytweed]

Synecdoche Chapter 1

After basically a year, here it is. My unfinished Clexa shit. I am a trash person. 

To be 100% clear, while I have quite a few of these chapters on backlog from literal years ago, these won’t ever be finished. I haven’t changed much beyond some mild editing, so enjoy my writing from way back when I was a fetus writer in 2016.

This one specifically takes place in an ABO universe (although it doesn’t focus on boning, so idk what that says), if that isn’t your cup of tea just move along please.

She coughed harshly as she pulled herself out of the pod. Smoke had billowed out from under the control panel, filling the cockpit with an acrid, choking smog. She stumbled from her seat, foot catching on the pods edge, sending her sprawling on the forest floor. Everything was so bright, the harsh light and glaring colours assaulted her senses. She felt the strong urge to sleep, to rest for a moment and let the aches of the descent ease away, but she still had duties to fulfill and a mission to complete.

Pushing herself onto her hands and knees, her muscles felt weak and shaky. She coughed, gagging as stomach acid and bile filled her mouth. Heaving for a few moments, she let her head hang, pressing her forehead to the cool metal of the vitals sensor around her wrist. A pounding beat took up residence in her temples. They’d warned her about the effects reentry might have on her, but she hadn’t thought they would be so bad. She was an Alpha, a strong Alpha at that. It seemed she needed to tone down her arrogance.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she counted to ten, breathing deeply with hopes that her churning stomach would settle. Slowly, the pounding in her head eased, and the threat of her stomach rebelling lessened. Breathing a sigh, she allowed herself a small smile. She was on the ground. With dirt and grass under her feet and the clean, non recycled air tasting sweeter than anything she’d ever experienced.

Pushing herself up, she sat on her heels, blinking away the harsh spots that dotted her vision. She stretched out the stiffness in her shoulders, groaning in pleasure when several satisfying pops sounded.

It was time to get to work.

Stumbling to her feet, she took stock of herself. Ensuring there were no rips or tears in her uniform, that her gun and knife were still strapped securely to her waist. The padded knees of her pants had been scuffed, but nothing that particularly warranted worry. Taking another steadying breath, she pulled her hair back into a messy blonde tail before tying it off. She was much too tired and sore to try and look particularly presentable at the moment. Rolling her neck to stretch out the last of the kinks, she made her way carefully to the pod.

The vessel had six visible compartments plus the cockpit, each a closed glass bubble fogged over with condensation. Sighing, she rubbed one of the pods with her sleeve, revealing a sleeping, dark haired girl. A patch on the breast of her uniform read ‘Reyes.’ The blonde smiled, relieved that the other girl looked uninjured.

Before she could move on to the next pod, a banging caught her attention. The sound echoed from the back of the ship, frantic and loud. She pulled out her knife, gripping it tightly as she stalked low around to the back. The metal of the ship was still warm to the touch, but had cooled significantly, allowing her to press up against the hull. As she drew nearer, the sounds of yelling and coughing were added to the banging of flesh on metal. The door to one of the supply caches moved, the vacuum seal breaking to let out a rush of smoke.

Eyes widening in shock, she flung open the door, stepping back with her knife at the ready. Smoke streamed from the opening, and a pair of hands flailed, scrabbling to find purchase on the doors edge. Clarke stepped back, brow furrowed in confusion, as a body tumbled out, coughing and whimpering.

The body was a small slip of a girl, thin and gangly, dressed in a tattered tank top and pants much too big for her frame. The girl coughed and retched on her knees, much as Clarke had done earlier. She circled warily, the urge to help and the need to be cautious battling within her mind. The mission was to only have seven people, and, seeing as this girl had come from a supply cache and not a proper pod, she was undoubtedly a stowaway.

“Bellamy?” The girl whimpered, blinking against the harshness of the natural light. Clarke stiffened, a shock of anger going through her. The girl did look rather similar. She shook her head, suppressing her irritation. The girl didn’t deserve her anger, but Bellamy would definitely hear from her later. Stepping forward, she grabbed the girl under an arm, knife still in hand, and pushed her against the pods slowly cooling metal.

“Who are you?” The girl cried out at the sudden rough treatment, still disoriented from the descent from the Ark. Clarke felt her eyes widen as the sweet scent of an Omega filled her nose. Omega’s were few and far between on the Ark, and she knew every single one of them, being the daughter of the Head Doctor. She knew that she’d never seen this particular Omega before in her life because all the Omegas on the Ark were at least middle age.

The sharp scent of distress and pain filling her nose broke her from her shock. Her Alpha roared protectively as she sheathed her knife quickly, and bundled the girl into her arms. Even if she wasn’t supposed to be there, the girl was still one of her people and deserved her protection and help.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. The girl smelled far too much like Bellamy for them not to be related, and she was much too old to be his daughter. It must have taken some serious bribing and trickery to get his sister in the ship along with himself.  But she had to give him credit. The girl looked to be at least sixteen, and to keep an entire human hidden for that long in the cramped, and generally communal, spaces on the Ark must have taken some serious skill.

The girl in her arms squirmed, attempting to get away all while calling for her brother. Clarke held her tightly, wrapping strong arms around a thin waist and chest. She could feel the grooves of ribs through the worn fabric of the tank top, making her frown. This girl was obviously undernourished, most likely due to having to share Bellamy’s single ration, unless he’d managed to steal food somehow.

The Omega’s distress mounted and a flailing elbow knocked Clarke in the face. Wincing, she released a burst of calming pheromones, all while trying to keep her own confusion and shock out of her scent.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Bellamy’s just in the pod over there.” She tried her best to get the wriggling girl under control, all while grimacing at the turn of events. The girl must have expected her brother to find and release her from the cache, not some random Alpha. However, Bellamy hadn’t known about the knockout gas set up in each pod. It had been something the council had put in without informing the rest of the crew, other than her, the commanding officer.

The knockout gas had been deemed a mercy, should something go wrong during re-entry or if the scans about the radiation levels had been inaccurate. It was to make any death they would experience as painless as possible. Clarke wasn’t granted said ‘mercy,’ being the commanding officer and the one responsible for cutting off the gas and waking her crew.

The Omega in her arms eventually began to calm as time passed, allowing Clarke to move them over to the treeline. She eased her way down, back against a tree, and cradled the girl in her lap. She held the girl firmly, a soft, hopefully soothing, purr rumbling in her chest. Slowly, the Omega fully relaxed, slumping against her chest. Clarke breathed a sigh and rested her head against the rough bark. Flicking her eyes down, she sent the girl a small, hopefully reassuring, smile.

“My name is Clarke. What’s yours?” The girl stiffened slightly, eyes going wide before they shot down to her lap. The scent of distress came back in full force as the Omega began shaking. Clarke forced her purr louder, knowing that the girl, who most likely had been told to never reveal who she was on the pain of death, would find the question distressing. To be a second child was rare, but always a death sentence.

While the Omega sat wringing her hands, Clarke kicked her mind into overdrive. There was no use getting angry about the extra passenger. What was done, was done. Now she needed to figure out how to keep everyone alive without jeopardizing the mission. The girl had come from the left side container, the container where most of the water and food rations would have been. Surprisingly, it wouldn’t be the greatest set back in the world. They had water filters designed to filter out radiation along with any harmful bacteria, so water wouldn’t be an issue so long as they found a river or stream relatively soon. There was also at least a day's worth of food for each team member kept within their individual pods, so they wouldn’t start starving straight off the bat. They also had guns and the materials to make animal traps, so, overall, the Omega wasn’t a large inconvenience. A surprise, yes, but not something that could be considered particularly damning.

The Omega continued to shake, curling in on herself, trying to be as small as possible in the Alpha’s lap. Clarke suppressed another sigh, rubbing a gentle hand along the girl’s back. It seemed she needed a new tactic, something that would at least calm her down, if not gain her trust.

“Well, since you don’t seem comfortable giving me your name, I’ll call you O, for Omega. How’s that sound?” Surprisingly, the girl snorted, her stress induced shaking mixing with suppressed laughter. Clarke raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. Laughter, for whatever reason, was better than a stressed Omega ready to bolt. Relaxing a bit more against the tree, she continued to rub the girl’s back.

“Well, I guess O it is.” O nodded, a hand over her mouth as she tried to quiet her giggles. Now, no longer fighting against the girl, Clarke took a better look at her.

She did look a lot like Bellamy. The same hair, the same eyes, similar facial structure. There were a few differences but the relation was obvious. However, O was clearly underfed, and, along with a small trickle of blood running from a cut on her cheek, she looked battered. If she’d been hiding for over a decade, it could be assumed that she’d never been to a doctor, let alone had any tests for genetic illness. She made a mental note to give the girl a physical at the next opportunity, but for now, she needed to get back to the mission.

“I assume Bellamy told you about our mission?” O, her laughter having subsided, ducked her head shyly.

“Sorta. He said we were going to the ground to find a new home.” Clarke smiled. Talking was good. It meant that the girl trusted her enough to actually say something.

“That’s the gist of it, yeah. The Council sent us down ahead of everyone so we could scout around, find a good place for them to set down and build somewhere we can all live without being cramped. It would mean no more rationing, no more strict curfews, no more one child rule.” O nodded stiffly, licking her lips as tension returned to her scent. It seemed the Alpha was correct in assuming she was a second child. She felt a tinge of anger, not because the girl was a second child, but because Bellamy had never thought her trustworthy enough to tell her about his sister.

“Well, wanna help me wake everyone up? I think they’ve gotten enough beautyrest.” The Omega nodded, moving to get up. Once standing, Clarke noticed with surprise that they were the same height. O had seemed so small curled in her lap.

With slow, careful movements, she took O’s hand, giving the girl every chance to object before guiding her over to the ship. Going along each pod, she rubbed away the condensation on the pods glass, revealing each occupant.

“This is Harper. She does tests on stuff to make sure we don’t eat or drink anything that we shouldn’t so we don’t die. She’s also the one who knows all the requirements for a good landing site.” She moved to the next pod, O giggling at her description.

“This is Monty. He’s our communications officer. He’s adorable right?” And the next.

“This is Raven. She’s our mechanic/engineer/ can probably build complex machines out of gum and toothpicks kinda person. Simple explanation, she’s really smart and knows it.” They rounded to the other side of the pod. The blonde couldn’t help but smile as the O stayed close to her back. The thought of the girl trusting her made her Alpha purr.

“These three are basically our indentured servants. They do all the heavy lifting like setting up the tents, moving equipment, etc etc. They’re also the guards who keep us alive, so please don’t tell them I called them servants.” O laughed lightly as they worked together to clear the glass.

“This is Nathan, although we call him Miller. This is Zoe, referred to as Monroe, and I’m pretty sure you’ve met Bellamy.” Letting O’s hand go for a moment, Clarke popped open a panel on the side of the ship, revealing a diagnostics screen and a keypad. Tapping at a few keys, she brought up the settings for the knockout gas.

“So, to wake them up, we first shut off the gas. Like so.” She demonstrated the motions, O watching enraptured. “Then once the system is fully shut off, we pop the hatches so they can breath regular air. To do that we’ll have to climb up and pull the lever in front of the hatch.”

She stepped back, pointing to the red and yellow painted handles. The Omega nodded, looking fascinated by everything she’d been told. Clarke reasoned that if she was hidden for the majority of her life, she probably didn’t have a very diverse education.

Letting O examine the ship as she pleased, the blonde turned to scan the tree line. The ship had landed in a decent sized clearing surrounded by tall trees and thick scrub plants. As she looked around, she figured that the location would make for as good a starting camp as any.

She paused in her observations when movement caught her eye. In a flash, her pistol was in one hand and O was dragged bodily behind her. The Omega squeaked, but for the most part remained silent pressed up against Clarke’s back. She scanned the trees with laser focus, gun sweeping as she did so.

Something had been out there. Something humanoid.

“O, can you climb up and start popping the hatches. I think it would be a good idea to have everyone awake.” She felt the girl nod into her shoulder before moving away, her warmth disappearing as she climbed the side of the ship. Clarke narrowed her eyes, never taking them off the trees and underbrush. She only lowered her weapon when the sounds of vacuum seals releasing and the groans of her crew reached her ears.

a link to Chapter two will be here when it’s available

#my writing #clexa #clarke x lexa #clarke griffin #commander lexa

[yuki-setsu]

[Extra Fic] Stay With Me (Lance Whump)

[edit: lmao i can’t tumblr and accidentally deleted my original post so here i am reposting it sorry aklsfjaklfj]

hello writer’s block for my current WIP is kicking my literal ass so please take the original story i’d written for Day 5 of Lance Whumpmas :’) i finished this story, but then the actual story i posted for Day 5 came into my head and i ended up liking that one better so this has just been sitting in my folders oops;; the theme for that day was Burns hehe

The mission had just been to scope out an abandoned Galra site, to see if there was any useful information they could scavenge and make sure there weren't any covert operations still going on. With almost all of the rooms in the hideout rummaged through, Lance was starting to relax. They'd all split up to finish the task faster, and no one had run into any stray Galra soldiers. Pidge even mentioned finding some new information on a Galra supply route she'd been tracking. So far, so good.

Lance peeked into another room filled with darkened screens. It was pretty empty, save for a few abandoned Galra guns on the ground. Everything looked like it had been inactive for a while. He stepped inside, bayard still out just in case. Probably wouldn't find anything in here either, though.

“Pidge, did you get everything you need?” Shiro asked through the comms.

“Almost. A few more ticks.”

Lance sidestepped another fallen gun as Shiro spoke. “Sounds good. We'll regroup and leave once Pidge is done. Great work, everyone.”

Hunk cleared his throat. “I finished my section of the base, so I'll just... start heading back towards the exit.”

“Same here.” Keith added.

Lance hummed, light and soft. “Bet I can beat you both to my Lion even with the headstart you guys have.”

“Oh really?” There was a smile in Hunk's voice. “Challenge accepted.”

Lance peered at the broken screens and control panel, deciding to give them a few more seconds just out of the goodness of his heart. He wasn't a fan of the eerie quiet, but he'd take that over dealing with hostile Galra at this point. Hunk's footsteps echoed through the comms, and Lance waited one more tick before he started towards the door. He'd been so focused on the ambient noises in his helmet that he almost missed the low beeping that crept into his ears. But even when he stiffened up and focused his hearing, he barely heard it. He whipped around, eyes landing on an object the size of a volleyball sitting on the ground a few feet away.  The slight glow around it—which definitely wasn't there before—intensified with large crackles of electricity, and Lance only managed one step backwards, bayard raised to cover his face, before he felt it explode.

When Lance came to again, he was on the floor, his entire body feeling like it had been electrocuted. He couldn't even tell if he passed out, his mind hazy with pain. His body jerked as he tried to take in a full breath, each inhale not quite making it all the way. Any attempt he made to move his body failed miserably, but the effort hurt too much and he gave up trying.

“—at happened, was that Lance?!” Allura's voice crept in past the ringing in his ears, muffled and distant.

“He's not responding. I'm heading to him right now.” Shiro said, the urgency in his tone spiking up Lance's anxiety. He tried to speak—tell them he was fine, just a little dazed. But words failed him as he started to panic, the air starting to feel more like mud as it tried to pass through his lungs. His stomach burned every time he tried to take a deep breath. Breathing. He needed to focus on breathing right now.

A bunch of other voices rang out, overlapping in a way that made any sentence impossible to decipher. He heard his name a lot, though. Lance bit back a groan, trying to figure out what hit him. Something like a bomb, obviously. He figured his armor took most of the damage, but shit everything hurt.

“Shiro,” Lance gasped out, hearing the comms immediately peter off into silence.

And Shiro responded, his relief nearly palpable through the comms. “I'm here, Lance. I'm on my way. So are the others. I need you to tell me what happened.”

Lance tried to focus on the conversation, his vision blurring every few seconds. “Bomb... I think.”

“Bomb?!” Hunk cried out, panicked.

Had it been a bomb? Suddenly, Lance wasn't sure anymore. Another spasm drowned out any coherent thought he'd been gathering, waves of pain stabbing at every inch of his body. “Buncha electricity.” Lance groaned, hissing out a breath. “I can't—can't move. Hurts too much.”

“Don't move, I'm almost there.” Shiro said. He sounded calm, in control. Lance clung to it desperately, his mind needing a steady tether to grip onto. “Where does it hurt?”

Lance tried to move a hand, stopping at the jolt of pain that shot through when he did. “Everywhere.” An even bigger pain, this time near his torso. “Stomach.”

“I found him.” Shiro piped up, and Lance it took a moment of confusion to realize he was speaking to the others. “Give me a moment.”

A hand touched his shoulder, and Lance jerked in surprise, hissing when another flood of pain blinded him. The hand disappeared just as quickly.

“Sorry, I'm sorry, Lance.” Shiro spoke, his voice filling Lance's ears with surprising clarity. His vision cleared enough to catch Shiro crouched above him, face awash with worry. “It's me.”

It was a relief, to say the least, to see Shiro. The tension in his shoulders loosened just a bit, and he worked on getting air into his chest while Shiro continued to talk into the comm. Whatever Shiro and the others were saying was lost in Lance's head, all of the sounds melting into distant mumbles. Shiro's gaze kept alternating from him to something to the side of the room—probably at whatever it was that exploded. Lance felt a weight against his side as Shiro looked back at him, clearly speaking to him this time, and Lance did his best to try to focus back on the conversation.

“—n you hear me, Lance? I need you to stay awake, okay? Stay with me. The others are almost here.”

Lance nodded—or tried to. His body felt unbelievably heavy, like something big decided to take refuge on top of his chest. Exhaustion was probably starting to kick in, and Lance just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. But Shiro had asked him to stay awake, so he tried his best to push that feeling away.

“... 'm I dying?” Lance mumbled, feeling a bit regretful for asking the question when he saw Shiro's expression. Why would he even ask something like that? It was a terrible question.

“You're not dying.” Despite how he looked, Shiro's voice was surprisingly calm and confident. The weight against Lance's side grew a bit heavier. “Once we get you in the pod, you'll be fine. Just focus on breathing, kiddo.”

So he did. Shiro glanced up at the rumble of footsteps, and Lance suddenly saw Hunk and Pidge crowd his view of the ceiling. They glanced at him and then somewhere further down his body, the panic blatantly evident on their faces. He spotted Keith just a bit to the side talking to Shiro, although his expression didn't look too good, either. Despite what Shiro said, everyone sure looked like he was dying.

Hunk suddenly leaned over, so close their helmets nearly bumped. He smiled. “Hey, buddy. I don't know if you heard the comm, but Coran had a few questions. Are you able to move your neck?”

Lance nodded, turning it side to side at Hunk's request, albeit limply. Hunk looked relieved at that.

“Where's it hurting the most?”

Lance considered it for a second. He couldn't tell if the pain had receded anywhere. At least the spasms had stopped. “My stomach...”

Hunk nodded, grim. “You got a pretty nasty burn there, dude. But we can fix that. Can you breathe okay?”

The weight on Lance's chest hadn't gone away, his breaths still shaky as they rattled down his throat. His body burned with each inhale, the injury on his stomach probably irritated whenever he breathed in. “A little. It's hard.”

Hunk glanced at Shiro before he finally leaned back, the worried look back on his face. “We can probably move him, right? I don't think there's a spinal injury.”

Shiro nodded. “Get ready to head back to the ship. We're gonna go fast.” He glanced back down, looking a bit apologetic. “Lance, I'm gonna carry you, but it'll probably hurt.”

Lance had expected as much, anyways. He huffed out a breath, bracing himself. “Kay.”

Shiro straightened, and the weight against Lance's side disappeared. Oh, Shiro had been holding his hand. Lance couldn't really ponder much on it before Shiro scooped him up, and the pain in his stomach rippled through his body in furious waves.

Maybe he screamed, because Shiro muttered out an apology before sprinting. Everything was a blur during that time, and Lance honestly wasn't sure if he blacked out. But when he came to, he felt himself lying back on the ground, someone propping him up. He blinked the white spots out of his eyes, hoping that his now-frantic breaths weren't as loud as they sounded in his ears. They were in the Black Lion, from what he could tell.

Someone gently tugged his helmet off, and Lance was grateful for the open breathing space, his head falling to the side and against something hard. Paladin armor, he realized. Fingers carded through his hair, almost methodical in their movements.

“You're gonna be fine. Stay with me.” Hunk's voice drifted into his ears, and Lance felt himself relax a bit. Hunk mumbled little words of encouragement the whole ride back, and Lance could only lie there and listen, fully exhausted at that point. Before he knew it, they must've arrived, because Hunk suddenly moved to pick him up, the pain greeting him full force once more.

This time, Lance did pass out.

-

Lance woke up falling, although he felt someone catch him before he could instinctively panic at the realization. Sleep was still heavy on his eyelids, and he was glad that whoever was hugging him was basically holding up his entire weight. They finally pulled back, and Lance caught Hunk's beaming face, the others crowded up behind him with equal looks of concern and relief.

“Man, am I glad you're awake.” Hunk sighed, his hands still firm on Lance's shoulders. “You feel all better now? Not that I doubt the pods or anything, but...”

The fog in Lance's mind started to clear up, and he glanced down, catching the white of the healing pod suit. Breathing was fine now, the pain he'd felt before now a distant figment of his imagination. He looked up, a smile on his face. “All good, my dude. Maybe even better.”

It was like all the tension melted from the room, and the group stepped back a bit to give some more space. Lance straightened up, shifting his weight from side to side. “So, what hit me?”

Coran was the one who spoke up. “It seems to have been a Galra-crafted explosive. Set to detonate electricity should any intruders come after the base had been abandoned. For all we know, there could be more scattered around the base, but that was only one we detected.”

Lance huffed out a laugh. “Guess I was the lucky winner.”

Someone lightly punched his arm, and Lance caught Pidge scowling at him. “That's not something to brag about.” Her expression softened. “I'm glad you're okay, though.”

The smile on Lance's face grew before he reached out and tugged Pidge into a bear hug. “Aww. C'mere, you.” Pidge resisted for a half a second and then caved, returning his hug with surprising enthusiasm.

“We should get you something to eat after you find a change of clothes.” Allura piped up lightly. “Everyone can take the rest of the day to relax. We all need it. Especially you, Lance.”

“She's right.” Shiro said. “We can meet you in the kitchen after you're dressed.” He reached out, giving Lance's shoulder a quick squeeze. “You did great today.”

Lance flushed a bit, the embarrassment tickling at his stomach. “I didn't... really do anything.”

Pidge disentangled herself from Lance's grip as the group began to move towards the medical bay doors, although she still stuck close to his side. Hunk laughed, “Just take the compliment.”

Lance could barely think of a retort before another thought hit him. “Wait, I won the challenge right?”

Hunk blinked. “Challenge?”

“I bet Shiro and I reached the Lions before you or Keith did. So I won.”

Keith looked over at him, face scrunched in disbelief. “What? I can't believe you're thinking about that challenge after what happened.”

Lance clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Don't try to pretend like this win didn't happen, dude. Life—or-death situation or not, the facts stay true.” He glanced at Shiro. “Did we get to the Lions first?”

Shiro contemplated for a moment before he slowly nodded. “We... did. It was an emergency, so I ran pretty fast.”

Lance beamed, triumphant. “Haha! Winner winner, chicken dinner. Take that, Mullet!”

Keith didn't look at all convinced. “That definitely didn't count.”

“Did so.”

“The challenge should only count when any of the participants aren't actively dying.”

“Dude, just accept it. You lost. I won.”

Pidge groaned, grumbling under her breath. “I seriously can't believe you two are arguing over this.”

A few more seconds of bickering later, they agreed on a rematch in the near future, and Lance headed to his room to change, his chest lighter than ever. Despite the chaotic end to that mission, he felt happy and his heart felt full.

His stomach, on the other hand, felt pretty empty. Food couldn't come soon enough.

#voltron #vld #lance #shiro #keith #hunk #pidge #allura #coran #my writing

[bowserbabe]

So @nightlocktime wants to know how the convention went. So, basically it was crazy.

On Thursday we realized how far it was to walk from the hotel to the convention. But I wanted to go ahead and check in and wander about. So we walked the 100 miles from the hotel to the convention center in the thousand degree heat and got all registered or whatever. Except apparently I checked in wrong, which we didn’t fix until Friday. But it didn’t matter. We walked around the dealer room a bit and I got Chandler Riggs’ autograph. He didn’t put my name on it though, and his hair is too long, but ya know whatever. As far as I know that was the only day he was there? I didn’t see him again anyway.

(I think that’s right? I might have seen him on Friday. But I thought it was Thursday. Thursday and Friday were very similar convention-wise to me.)

Friday was slightly more conventiony. I think that’s the day I was like “Did I really check in right?” and they were like no, you’re an idiot, here is all your Capaldi swag (aka autograph and photo op tickets). And a nifty... thingy that goes on a lanyard. I have a picture, I’ll add it if I can figure out how to from my phone. Or I’ll pull it off my phone. I’LL MANAGE SOMEHOW.

And then we went and saw Michael Cudlitz talk about a bunch of things I haven’t seen. IMDB says I’ve actually seen him in a bunch of things, but mostly he talked about Band of Brothers and Walking Dead (oddly enough). I think I took some pictures, I’ll have to look. I haven’t looked through any of that stuff yet. I don’t think we did anything else on Friday? Most of the big name people hadn’t shown up yet.

And then SATURDAY. Saturday was exciting because I knew I would be seeing Peter soon. Saturday I ended up with some time to myself because my friend dropped me off and then parked the car back at the hotel and then walked. Because he’s a beast. So I got autographs. I think I got... um... Pom Klementieff, Michael Cudlitz, Ralph Macchio, William Zabka... were there other people there? At some point we went and watched Power Rangers Amy Jo Johnson and Jason David Frank. And then... it was photo op time, I think. Peter + Karen photo op, and then just Peter. I pretty much just stood there and tried to make my face look decent.

Then autograph time! Karen was... still taking pictures? so she was late for doing autographs. They have these little tiny lines for people to stand in and so it doesn’t take much to fill them up. And they don’t want people making the lines longer because it interferes with foot traffic. So they just stand there and don’t let anyone else get in line until the line starts to move. Which actually just means we all mill about near the line but not in it, hoping we can get in before everyone else. I sort of just did circles around Dante-and-Jay-from-Clerks’ tables until I could get in line.

Karen was nice, I don’t remember really what I said, hopefully it wasn’t terrible. Then PETER AUTOGRAPH TIME. I got up there and he signed my picture and my friend started talking to him but he was still putting little star-like dots all over my picture and I probably just stood there with heart eyes, although I did argue that Twelve was amazing from the very beginning and did not take any getting used to (which is what my friend was saying) and Peter probably signed something to my friend but I was probably busy heart-eyeing and trying to not say anything stupid.

Oh yeah, the lady taking the autograph tickets scared me. Because there were two levels of autographs (level 1 was on pictures they had there, and then level 2 was on anything else) and she was saying personalizations were level 2 instead of 1. And I was like... BUT I NEED PETER TO WRITE MY NAME (but I only said that in my head) and she was like, no no, the tickets are fine, you get personalization with that. And I was okay. This... this story was not as exciting as thought it was going to be.

And then we ran upstairs to see Karen’s panel. They were like NO VIDEO AND NO PHOTOGRAPHY so I didn’t take any, but other people did. Jerks. I haven’t looked, maybe there’s stuff on youtube. Supposedly the Supercon people recorded everything and will put it on youtube? I dunno. Karen was pretty great. She’s a lot like Amy, at least in terms of getting excited and dealing with strange questions and things. And I think that was the end of Saturday.

Sunday we went over super early (well, like... 8 or so, the convention center didn’t open until 8:30 I think) and as soon as they let us in, we went up and got in line / sat outside the room Peter was going to be talking in. We were... 4th and 5th in line, I think. A ton of people eventually showed up. I meant to take pictures but I forgot. They eventually let us in so we went up and sat on the front row in the center section over to the side where they had people lining up to ask questions. So that he would be looking in my direction most of the time. >.> I was going to ask a question but that ended up not happening. Whatever.

They did a like 15 minute thing first where they talked about Twelve and things and had the cosplayers get up on stage and show off their... selves, and then we realized that Peter was up there with them (it took me a minute to notice, which is sad because I was kind of expecting it) and then that segued into Peter’s panel.

PETER. UNF.

I tried to record a lot of it but I don’t know how it turned out. Apparently I’m crap at using my camera because I haven’t used it for anything real in several years. Also I had bought a telephoto / zoom / whatever lens with no automatic focus, and apparently I’m bad at manual focus, but hopefully I got some stuff. I’ll look tonight. (Looks like they might be uploading stuff to youtube currently? Nothing I care about yet, but who knows.) It blew through my memory cards, so I have like 2 twenty minute segments and then a bunch of random pictures at the end. Whatever. I’ll look.

I wanted him to talk about Jenna but mostly he just told the story of her showing up at work wearing a mask of someone he’d been teasing would be her replacement. Which I already heard somewhere...? It’s probably on my tumblr. Tumblr should allow for better categorizing.

Then they did the Karate Kid panel so we stuck around for that. At the end of that the three of them did a quick autograph signing so I got that, and then we ran downstairs for more photos. I may have spent too much money on photos.

After that we ran over to Peter’s autograph line which was non-existant at the moment and got in it. I got a poster signed (this one) and my friend got his photo op picture signed. Peter looked at it and sort of made a confused/amused noise and said something about it being unfortunate. My friend had him write a little thought bubble above himself and a few other little things and then signed it like normal.

And then we were done? Except I missed the Power Rangers part which was on... Saturday, I guess? Probably after Karen’s panel. They were super busy the entire time with a pretty long line. I made my friend get in line for Jason David Frank because his line was getting crazier and then I ran off and got Martin Kove to sign a picture. He was like “You want a ‘sweep the leg’?” and I said yes, and he was like “We’ll throw in a ‘no mercy’ too.“ Which amused me. So I go back and Jason’s line hasn’t moved, but meanwhile Amy Jo Johnson has no one in her VIP line (I suspect more from crowdedness than lack of interest, it was hard to tell who was in which line when) and my friend is like “Green ranger? Pfffft. I’m gonna go get her signature.” So I stay in line and he runs through and gets her autograph and then I’m like... well, obviously I should do the same thing. So he stays in line and I go get a Flashpoint picture (I never actually watched Power Rangers) and she signs it and says something about “No joy” which she writes on it (I do internal heart eyes becuase I love Flashpoint) and then I would guess starts to write “Kimberly” because oddly enough that’s what she was mostly signing, then realizes, and does this weird K into a J thing sort of so that it says Jules instead, except it looks really weird. But I’m happy with it because it’s funny to me. And then Jason finally shows up and I get his autograph, and then we run away to dinner.

I THINK THAT’S IT. This was too long and I’m gonna edit out the parts about the photo ops. But then... posting.

I FORGOT. ABOUT. RICKY.

Ricky Whittle is amazing. I went up to get an autograph and ended up getting my autograph plus two hugs and he kissed my cheek. I would have gone through that line again. And again. >.>

We saw him talk as well. I think before Power Rangers? He talked a lot about American Gods which I haven’t seen yet, and some about The 100 episodes I haven’t seen yet. So a lot of stuff I haven’t seen yet. But he’s a hottie even with his current silly haircut and he’s all muscular and British and unf. Just lakjfklahfkalshfkljshf. I’ve been trying to limit photo ops to big stuff (So far just David Tennant, Lana, and Peter (with a Karen thrown in)) but I wish I had gotten one with him. I was looking through the pictures on flickr and they’re just like... crazy. Unf.

Okay, that should be everything. For real this time.

#con: superpeter #personal tag is not very personal