#this is also why i had a brief stint with trying to have a small craft business myself and had to shut that idea down so fast because-

[piplupod]

when I say the cost of shipping has gotten untenable, i do mean it btw.

and for all you americans who don't know the conversion rate:

#30 fucking dollars for a sticker. what the fuck. #i can't fucking buy anything through small businesses anymore (not even just on etsy lol its everywhere) i do mean it #i cannot afford shipping anymore! this is fucking insane #this is also why i had a brief stint with trying to have a small craft business myself and had to shut that idea down so fast because- #-shipping was bad back then two years ago. its gone up like $15+ since then lmao #i know the pandemic has fucked things up but jesus christ #pippen needs 2nd breakfast #''things are back to normal now'' oh really??? (also they shouldnt be going back to normal. this plague is not anywhere NEAR over)

[tiddygame]

hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap

I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:

tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)

also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!

fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.

Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.

When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.

Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.

Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.

(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)

He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.

Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.

Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.

Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.

“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”

Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.

"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.

"Yes sir."

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”

Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.

The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.

During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.

At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.

He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.

What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.

Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“You planned this?”

“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.

Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.

“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.

“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.

“Then yes.”

“Why?”

Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.

Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.

“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.

“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.

He didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.

He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.

Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.

“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.

“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.

Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.

He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.

“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”

Well, curiosity killed the cat…

“No, they don’t.”

…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.

His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.

Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.

“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”

“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”

Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.

Oh, he thought to himself.

I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.

<><><><>

They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…

No, that’s not quite right.

Simon was lying on the daybed.

Johnny was lying on top of Simon.

His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.

Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?

It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.

His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.

I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…

Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.

Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.

(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)

At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.

The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.

Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.

He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.

“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.

“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”

Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.

He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.

It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.

Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.

He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”

He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.

He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.

Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.

Well, that’s just fucking unfair.

Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!

Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.

Neither moved.

It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.

He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.

Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.

“Thank you, Simon.”

A second of delay, and then the hand continued.

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—

A kiss, on his forehead.

He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.

There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.

He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.

He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.

The dog tags.

John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.

He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.

He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.

He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.

Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.

He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.

God.

His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

<><><><>

Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.

Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.

If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?

He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.

He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.

He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.

What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?

Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.

For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.

He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.

Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?

He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.

Why can't you just be normal?

Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.

He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.

He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.

The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.

He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.

He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.

It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.

There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.

Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed

Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.

Ghost: Disliked.

Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔

Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.

Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it

Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-

Ghost: About the tags, you

Ghost: I think you make me want to live

Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.

I'm in love, aren't I?

Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius

Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.

Soap (art streamer): :D

Took you long enough, dumbass.

<><><><>

Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.

“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.

She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.

“Nope!” she replied.

She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.

"Detergent."

She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.

"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.

Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.

“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.

“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.

“Did you tell him what it means?”

“...What does it mean?”

Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.

“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“200 then.”

“It doesn't even mean anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.

“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”

“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”

He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.

“What did you say? 100?”

“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”

“So you admit you tried to scam me?”

“Just take the 100 and g-”

She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.

“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”

She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.

Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.

She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”

He didn't shake her hand.

“Christ, both of you are awful.”

He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.

She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.

She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.

“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.

I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #streamer au #streamer! soap #streamer!soap #streamer! au #ft. Old Man Price and Chronic Shit Stirrer Twin Sister (unnamed) #ghost never changes soaps contact name #my version of ghost in this au has convinced himself that he's nothing more than an incel/neckbeard #and that's why he is the way that he is #[I know my mess of 'family hcs' or whatever was derailed to shit but I still think ghost would call his twin detergent] #i’m scheduling this for when i’ll be asleep so goodnight i hope you all sleep well and drink plenty of water #my writing

[starseneyes]

Chenford - Lucy Chen / Tim Bradford - The Rookie - Season 5 - Ep 21

"Going Under" AKA "Going Down in the Laundry Room"

We made it home just in time for the episode, but I was too worn from the events of the day to finish last night. So, here it is, your Meta.

SPOILER ALERT: Look, I don't spoil those who want to remain unspoiled, which is why there's a cute "Read More" button. But as soon as you click that, you're on your own. You will be spoiled. Sorry, not sorry.

All squared away? It's time to dive in!

Lucy and Tim Brief the Team

There's something very powerful about seeing Lucy and Tim standing up there to tell everyone about the Op.

It throws me back to Lucy's first Under Cover assignment when an angry Tim perched outside the door, arms crossed, while Lucy sat as a member of the briefing.

Now, Sergeant Second Class Bradford and... what the hell!?

Where's Lucy's promotion, dagnabbit?!

Look, I'm really not trying to complain after the feast we got in this episode. But, it really does strike hard when you're thinking about earlier seasons and how far Tim has come professionally.

I really hope the "Lucy wants to make Detective" story line continues this season or beginning of next.

"Which is where Officer Chen comes in. She'll be going undercover..."

It's good that Tim's the one who's introducing this, and we're continuing our thread of, "Tim is trying to be okay with this."

Also, again, a long way from Tim being pissed about Lucy going UC. The growth has been massive. I think it's important to acknowledge that even as we spend this episode highlighting how much further these two have to go.

The need for continued growth does not cancel out the growth already achieved. Work is work, and when you put it in, it matters.

"Until further notice, if you see Officer Chen out in the world, don't acknowledge her."

And, I'm thrown back to Lucy's Op at the end of Season 3, when Tim and Jackson came across her with the traffic stop. I remember Jackson asking Tim how to play it, and Tim coaching him through.

"I called Hard Luck." "Really? He's such an unreliable CI."

Gosh, I love how these two talk to one another. Again, we've come so fucking far.

And I know I'm waxing nostalgic, a bit, but I think that's natural for an episode of this magnitude. Lucy hasn't done more than a short stint undercover op in many seasons.

And this is the first time we get to see these two handle it as a couple.

Every other time they've done this, Tim was a TO or a coworker. Now, he's Lucy's Shower Sex Sweetie and Quality Quickie with a dash of Down-And-Dirty-All-Night-Long-Hottie.

It's bound to change the dynamic. But one thing that I love about this scene is how equal they are.

Sure, Lucy doesn't have the rank, but she's no longer "sir"ing Tim (unless he asks for it in the bedroom... or shower... or wherever role playing activities might transpire).

"He knows it's important to me." "Aw... undercover love." *giggle*

Y'all, I'm giddy. Like, legit was grinning like a fool. And after the day I've had, that's no small miracle.

Also, it feels like Eric Winter almost broke, and like Melissa O'Neil did. I have no intel on this, and I might be completely off-base, but there was something about his little quirk of the lip and double-take that would definitely have set me off if I was working opposite him in that scene.

"Jamie Hall." "You all set up Jamie?" "Yeah, all good."

So. Fucking. Cute.

I just love that Tim's the one outside keeping an eye on her (even if my subconscious is trying to connect the dots between IA paperwork, possible liabilities of Tim overreacting or losing his cool, and what happens if he uses the wrong name by accident, etc).

He is the protector. And being involved in the Op is easier for him to handle than not being involved.

Think about it... we know that Isabel would go away for months at a time and Tim felt like he couldn't breathe the whole time. He didn't know about the people she met. He didn't know anything.

He told Isabel that Lucy was different, and I think we all can see that Chenford can be different. But without communication, they're doomed.

Golly, that sounds dramatic. Like that old shipping commercial where everyone is doomed. Yeah, like twelve of you reading understand that reference, and I'm leaving it anyway.

But, I truly believe communication is the foundation to a strong relationship. And I'm not just saying that because I happen to hold two degrees in communications.

Tim and Lucy have the benefit of an established relationship based on trust and respect. But learning to effectively communicate your needs, wants, fears, aversions, and desires as a couple is completely different.

"Are you good? .... "Are you good?" "Do you mean do I miss you already? Nah, I'm fine." "You are such a jerk."

This is so me and Matt coded. And, yes, I'm Lucy in this scenario. Can't tell you how many times I've affectionately called Matthew a jerk and he's shared that same satisfactory smirk on Tim's face afterwards.

"Hey, will you keep an eye on Tamara for me? You know, just check in on her every once in a while." "Of course. Yeah, don't worry about her. I'll keep an eye on her. You just focus on the job."

Tim is really trying to be amazingly supportive for her. And I love this little reminder that Tim does have his own place.

Yes, for production purposes we're spending a lot of time at Lucy's (that I head-canon is because she lives closer to the station).

Also, Tim doesn't hesitate to watch out for Tamara. There was a time he only referred to Tamara as "Lucy's Puppy", but now they're family.

"How long do you think this will take?"

Excuse me, we're getting a montage!?! Like, a montage with voice over provided by our intrepid duo? Be still my beating heart!

Y'all don't understand. I was a Voice Over artist for two decades. So, when I see actors who can also do voice over well, I get super hyped.

Melissa O'Neil and Eric Winter decided to make me gawk at their talent even more tonight. Gee wiz! Like, it's possible they recorded their audio together, but more likely they were each in comfy clothes in the booth solo on completely different days.

And the chemistry. still. freakin. works. That's talent, my friends.

Look, some people crush VO and some people don't. Just watch (or don't watch... maybe with shrooms nearby) the Star Wars Holiday Special animated section to see what I mean.

I'm not gonna name names, but it was really easy to call which Star Wars actor was going to go into voice work later and which one really shouldn't have been asked to do that long VO for Blade Runner.

"Oh, do not finish this season of Top Chef without me." "I can't make any promises."

Y'all, this is so me and Matt coded! Now, Top Chef is my show and not Matthew's. I even keep it on in the background when I'm working or writing a screenplay.

Yes, I know most people don't work that way. I'm weird. I've come to terms with it, and I like me—weird and all.

But we totally have our shows where we say, "You better not watch this without me!" And, usually, I'm the one to screw it up. Mostly by accident!

Matthew always reminds me of Mean Girls. He wanted to see it in theaters. I said to hold off. Then we were in the video store (yes, we're old) and he offered to rent it, but I said to hold off. The third time was a year later when he remembered we hadn't seen it.

Except I accidentally caught it on TV totally forgetting we said we'd watch it together. Eep!

Also, after Lucy complaining about her ex watching too many cooking shows after his wrists were slit, I find it interesting she actively watched them with Tim.

Just goes to show cooking shows were never the problem. *cough* dead weight puffed chicken *cough*

"You ever wish you has a normal job?" "One where people don't shoot at you? Not once." "Yeah, me, either."

I love how easy their conversation is. These are the little things that add up to big things when you're building a relationship. And some mastermind in the Writer's Room thought, "What if we advance their relationship while advancing the episode's story via VO?"

As much flack as VO sometimes takes (and I'm actually a VO fan), I adore this choice.

We don't need to meet all the people in the office and establish relationships with them. It doesn't service the story or our core characters. So, we're letting Tim and Lucy—two characters we adore—carry us through via the VO. It's bloody beautiful.

Also, I love the pacing of this episode. Love it. There's an effortlessness to the timing of the edits and the passage of time via wardrobe change is so beautifully done.

I know we have the Super giving us time stamps via dates, but those are almost superfluous because we can visualize the journey via other cues. It's stuff like this that makes me bloody giddy.

"Making any friends?"

This. Is. So. Cute. Tim is actually keeping Lucy sane, here, I'm convinced! Remember her last UC assignment where she had to check in via phone? She was bored out of her mind.

"Is the monotony getting to you?" "I don't mind it... I just don't want it to all be for nothing."

This is so interesting to me. The word choice, I mean. This is how I felt about the infertility drugs... it couldn't all be for nothing.

I'm not going to get into the whole thing, here. But, I dealt with multiple years of infertility for my kids. For a while, I had to be on this medication—letrazole. Most people have minor reactions on it. I had almost all the weird/severe reactions.

But it got my follicles to optimum size for ovulation. It wasn't all for nothing.

There are things we put ourselves through willingly, sometimes, that to an outsider might seem strange. But we have a reason for what we're doing—and a hope that it's the right thing to do.

"Why don't we go for a walk?"

It's not Chenford, but I gotta call out my on-screen bestie for using her brains on this one to prevent Frank from taking her to a second location. Well done.

Tim Pretending to Be On the Phone

Fierce protector is there. Now, I'm turning off my subconscious brain on this one, and I'll explain why at the end. But, I did think it was a nice touch to have Tim on the phone, here.

There's something about this episode that felt like a dash of Alias was sprinkled onto the souffle. It's already an abundant hour that could feel bloated, but instead is rich and decadent. But that added spice is palpable in the shooting and editing, especially.

That over-the-shoulder shot of the landscape when Tim's watching them feels hand-held, giving us that sense of something being off-kilter and unstable.

When Tim hangs up, it's a shot of his torso, out-of-focus, with the real action behind him. There are layers to how this is shot, and it's so reminiscent of a spy movie in the best ways.

The whole episode is already elevated by Michael Rooker. But the script and pacing and directing and editing all feel like they've risen to the occasion, too.

"I was bored to early onset rigor mortis."

But this is a part of UC life. It's the "hurry up and wait" that is strangely a huge part of life in the film/television industry, as well. Like, a huge part.

It could be waiting for the sun to set so you have the perfect lighting, waiting for an actor on set, waiting for notes, or even a Writer's Strike if it comes to that.

UC often means embedding for months at a time before getting what you're going after. It's something for which Tim and Lucy must prepare. And I feel like this episode is the perfect vehicle to get us there.

"Like a date?" ... "odds are he's hoping for a little something-something."

Tim is having a hard time, and Grey knows it. I love how he casts a glance Tim's way on this line, sensing his unease.

Let's be real—Grey saw Chenford coming before they did. And he's the one really tuned into Tim, here.

Tim can't help walking her to the door, holding it open for her, even if he knows he can't touch her. He's concerned.

"You okay?" "Five by five." "You gotta treat this like any other op and treat Lucy like any other UC." "I know."

I'll be honest, when I first watched this scene, this is what I wrote: UGH. I don't like what's being set up. Please don't let Tim fuck this up. Please don't let Tim fuck this up.

I have never been so happy to be wrong about my read on a scene. I seriously worried we were setting it up for Tim to be the liability in all this, and I'm grateful that's not the direction it went.

This show has a history of showing couples working through bad times, tough situations, close calls. The core couples suffer as much as any Austen heroine—and they come out alright in the end. I'm grateful to see that tradition continue with Chenford.

"Okay."

First off, I have to admit that I giggled when Lucy's head popped up. I know it's a completely inappropriate response, but all I could picture was one of those Whack-A-Mole's at the Chuck-E-Cheese growing up. She was like a little prairie dog, and I haven't been able to watch the scene since.

Anyway, back to what I wrote when this first aired: Tim sees Lucy and he can breathe, again. She knew. She knew he'd be looking for her.

And Tim knew he couldn't breach. If he went in, that'd give away everything, and someone needed to go after that car.

He's doing everything right. But it hurts like hell.

"Gun was empty. I got lucky. Otherwise..."

And you can see it hurts. Look, Tim has faced a lot worse in his time in the military and working Patrol. But everything is raw right now.

The woman he loves it in danger. She was nearly killed by that same weapon. Both of them had close calls with the same gun and lived to tell the tale.

"Hey, you okay?" "Yeah. I am now.... meet me at the laundry room in your building." "Yes. See you in 30."

I love the touch that Lucy's hand is on the phone before Frank even pulls away. She needs to touch base with Tim. She needs to hear his voice.

And I love the emphasis Melissa O'Neil places on "Yes". It's a heart cry for its soulmate. There is no question that they need to see one another.

Tim has always had this need to protect Lucy, even before romance was on the table. And Lucy has always had a need to protect Tim, too, in her own way.

Lucy watching out for Tim with Isabel. Tim doing whatever it took to save Lucy from a serial killer. Over and over, these two have a need to know the other is okay.

I remember not so long ago Tim was asking Nolan, Nyla, Angela... asking if Lucy was okay. He needed to know. Then, he finally had the direct line as a friend. He could text her to get the details.

Now, they need to see each other. It's that same need, but it's grown along with their relationship.

*hug* "That was really scary." "Yeah, I almost had a heart attack."

Lucy launches herself up into his arms and he nestles into her shoulder. Tim's right hand is splayed across her back, as though he wants to hold as much of her at one time as he can.

It's another one of those "Eric Winter act all the way through his fingers" moments. Tim's whole body is reacting to holding her, safe in his arms, down to those fingertips.

These poor babies. This is the first time they've had to do this deep since Lucy's S3 arc. And they've never done it in love, before. Not with each other.

Tim knows what he lost with Isabel. But this love is different, deeper, developed from the gradual building of trust. Layers upon layers of caring. Lucy is the love of his life—and he's run raw from witnessing the shootout, and skirting death moments apart.

"If you need to tap out-" "No."

Tim is trying to give her an out, and there's a mix here of professional and personal. She's shaken. So is he. But this is the job.

And he knows that. He does. But we've already established he can't be objective where she is concerned.

"Has he tried anything?"

This is a scenario that's run through my mind a million times—what would Tim do if someone violated Lucy... and what would he do to that person?

The way Eric Winter plays this moment is so heartbreaking, too. There's a vulnerability in Tim's eyes that is completely personal, void of professional. He's a man worried about the love of his life.

He knows she can handle herself. It's not a cognitive issue. It's that part of him that cries out Fierce Protector whenever she is in danger.

Lucy gets that, and she grabs onto his jacket with one hand, almost pulling him closer to her.

"Alright, now is not the time to talk about this-"

It's easier for him to change the subject on her than to acknowledge how much they both need to have this conversation at some point. They've been talking around it and avoiding it.

It has to be addressed at some point. There is no way forward without it.

"If you're good, I'm good." "I'm good." "Good."

I'm having a bit of a Court Jester moment, here, and it's cracking me up. "Get it?" "Got it." "Good."

But also, "Good" is kind of their word. Tim used it post-DOD with her in the workout room, and again when he was happy she didn't change her mind about dating him.

I don't know who made the choice—whether it was a writing thing, first, or an actor choice in the moment, but it somehow makes it more personal and lived-in. And I love that.

"Lock the door first."

Did they just.... have sex in there? Oh my GOSH they pulled a Java!

But what I really love about this is how it feels like a callback to 5x01 and the airplane bathroom. Not only is it a small space where they are covertly meeting to discuss the mission, but it's also a parallel to Lucy needing grounding and Tim being the one to do it.

In 5x01, Lucy was shaken by the Rosalind news. She made an excuse to kiss Tim, to wrap herself in a moment that was a release. Remember Isabel talking about how great it was to unwind in that hotel room and not be on guard for a bit?

Lucy needs this. She needs to be with Tim and wrap herself in the life they are building. Even if it's only a little while, it's going to sustain her while she's pretending while thinking on three levels to not get killed.

He grounds her when she's flailing. And she envelopes him when he's crumbling. Tim and Lucy have built a relationship of mutual respect, love, and protection. And, damn, is it great to get to see it on-screen.

"Miss you." "Getting coffee. 1 Minute." "911."

Shit. Of course this is the one moment when something goes down.

But I love the fact that Lucy was having Laundry Room Sex less than 12 hours earlier and she's already texting her boyfriend because she misses him. No wonder he practically lives at her place, already.

Also, now we know she finally has him listed as "Tim" in her phone. Now, he was "Tim" at the end of S4E1, but I think that was an oversight. So, officially we've graduated to first names.

"Hey. Why are you here?"

Oh, GPS tracking, how I hate thee in real life and love thee on TV.

"You got ten seconds to convince me you're not a cop."

Annnnd, there it is. This guy's not a moron. This isn't his first rodeo. And now he has a gun trained on our girl.

"I'm not a cop I... " "Then how the hell did you know they were coming." "A police scanner app. I can show you."

Well. Done. There are folks in my area who have scanner apps and are constantly posting things online.

I sometimes forget about it because when I worked in a newsroom, we had a guy whose whole job was to listen to the scanner. Still boggles my mind anyone can do it these days!

And Lucy. Gets. Him. Monologuing. And it's beautiful. Lessor actors would have bungled it, but Michael Rooker is a bloody master of the craft, and Melissa O'Neil holds her own opposite him, which adds such richness.

Before we move on, I have to pause and just fawn over Michael Rooker a bit. He's just such a gem of an actor, and that whole interaction there between Lucy and Frank is elevated by his presence.

He pours so much life into a character we've barely known five minutes.

I met him once upon a time. My mother was the Key Makeup Artist on a movie called Deceiver. While I was visiting Mom on-set, I had the opportunity to run lines with him.

He treated me like a working actor, which was crazy to a kid like me.

I remember him running me through this one line over and over. It was a three-word line (which of course I can't remember), but he was trying to teach me how inflection and intention can completely change the meaning of a line.

I carried that with me, and applied it to my acting, writing, and VO work the rest of my life.

My mom said he told her that I acted like a pro. And that's just so bloody special to me. I never had the body or the face for the big time, ya know? But, an actor I admire thought I had the chops. And that's super cool.

"Where are you?" "I'm outside the cover apartment. Frank just dropped me off."

One thing that is a minor thing, but really cracks me up about their dialogue is when they see each other in person, there's almost always a "hey" breathed under their breathe. On the phone, they just get to the point. It's so minor, but it makes me smile.

"I think this op is done." "You sure? " "Yeah. I mean, he's got no crew, no product. It's over." "That's too bad." "Why?" "I was looking forward to another laundry room hookup."

You. Idiots. And I say that with all love! It's so nice to see these two really enjoying their relationship, dagnabbit.

"I need a big meal, a hot bath, and some quality sexy time and then I'm gonna sleep for 24 hours."

Lucy runs her hands down his stomach, but Tim's quick to grab her hands. He rubs her arm, as though reminding himself that she's real.

"What what is that? What? " I just... Isabel used to always crash after a long term assignment. It took her months to come back to life."

I have three children. The first two are twins. And they were born just a few months after my best friend had her first. Her second child was born about six months before my third child.

Yes, I have a point. Gimme a second.

I have dealt with two very different children from day one. I don't know what it is to be the mother of a single child. That was never my reality.

But my bestie was shocked by how different her second child was compared to her first. She'd only known one thing for three years, so she assumed that's how all babies would be.

It was simply lack of experience that led her to lean into her previous understanding thinking it was all she needed. That's Tim, here.

He knows that Lucy is different... but they've never done this before. He's never been the one she came home to after a UC assignment.

He's not equating everything to Isabel because he thinks Lucy is Isabel, but because he has no comparisons. Tim and Lucy are going to build that together, yes, but he honestly doesn't know how to do that.

We know that Isabel shut him out. Tim is terrified Lucy will do the same, even though he hasn't verbalized it... yet.

"You know what, I do have to come clean about something, though. I know I made you a promise to not watch Top Chef without me but I couldn't wait. I'm sorry." "Bad girlfriend." "No! No. I'm sorry." "Horrible!"

I'm sheepishly hiding my face because I'm so Lucy in this moment. My on-screen bestie and I have way too much in common.

Also, we needed that bit of levity to break up the scene. Because it's about to get heavy.

"So... Why didn't you tell me you almost died chasing down the shooter at the restaurant?" "Because I didn't. Who told you?"

It's shocking Lucy thought she would ever be able to keep the Five Player Trade quiet considering how quickly gossip moves through that station. Gee wiz!

"The gun was empty, right? So this is much ado about nothing."

A Shakespeare reference? Now I know our girl's been rubbing off on her man.

"Besides I know for a fact you don't tell me everything that happens when you're undercover." "No. you know for a fact that Isabel didn't. If this is gonna between us I need to know you can see the difference."

Here we go. They are finally having the conversation they need to have. Tim told Isabel that Lucy was different. We know he knows it. But he has to believe it, too.

"... listen, I need you to take it seriously if I ever sound the alarm about something. Otherwise the pain of what I went through would have been for nothing. And I can't lose you the way I lost her.

That "for nothing" is coming back around. It can't be for nothing.

And he can't lose her. He survived losing Isabel. Yes, it broke him. It broke him for a long time. But I don't know if he'd ever recover from losing Lucy. True love can have that effect.

"You won't. I'll walk away before it gets close to anything like that. Okay? I promise."

There we go. This was the piece Lucy was missing last week when she tried to broach the subject. She approached it as though it was something he needed to deal with. But relationships only work when we get through together.

This conversation doesn't make everything all better. They are still going to face obstacles and issues. But they are finally being open and honest in both directions about Lucy doing UC.

Tim and Lucy embrace, but this is different than any of their other hugs, and I wonder if it's intentional. Tim has always nestled into her right shoulder. Lucy usually has one arm up and one down.

This time, she almost scoops in underneath as he wraps both arms around her. She's nestled in his wings as he's held up by her strength.

"We can build a house away from here," the song says. And they could. They could both walk away. But we've established that this is the life they love, dangerous as it is.

And the more they fall in love, the more they both have something worst living for. And that's terrifying.

Have you ever been in love? The kind of love that reciprocates and grows? It's amazing. I've only experienced it once, with the love of my life. It's difficult, at times, but it's also rewarding.

And it amplifies the big stuff. Because you're now a part of something so much bigger than the individual. And for Tim and Lucy, putting their lives on the line means there's someone who will be destroyed if they die.

There's all the more reason to live, but that can't get into the decision-making process in the moment. "You have to keep your head in the game," Tim has said often.

Love conquers all, right? Sometimes, it merely complicates.

I'm grateful for this episode. The pacing and directing were so on-point all around, and I felt like all the on-screen characters had moments to shine without it feeling over-bloated. Just beautifully done all-around.

Thank you for reading, loves. This week has been a hard one in my life as I drove back to Wilmington to say what may be my last goodbyes to one of my best friends who I've known since we were 11. Cancer is the B-word.

Cherish the ones you love. Tell them often that you care. Make memories. Build dreams. Chase hope. Live this life, dagnabbit. I believe in you.

#Chenford #Lucy Chen #Tim Bradford #Melissa O'Neil #Eric Winter #Lucy x tim #Tim x Lucy #The Rookie #Meta

[stitchthesewords]

I hope you know this new au is never leaving my head. Seriously. It's rotating so hard it may explode

-🍂

YOU AND ME BOTH SO,,,LET ME,,,GIVE YOU MORE THOUGHTS TO ROTATE

HotGuy: Skilled with Archery, I do think of him similarly to hawkeye though im honestly not familiar with him because the only MCU thing I've even seen beside the spiderman movies is The Avengers. So. Take that as you will. He has a bow and crossbow, along with gadgets that function similarly - a lot of wacky arrows like nets and smoke bombs and suction cups. He's got a small limp from an old battle that they counteract with his boots. Of the duo, he is definitely meant to be mostly Offensive when they fight, relying on CuteGuy for anything that isn't 'shoot the enemy in the face'

CuteGuy: Uses a gun, though the Lab SAYS its a pellet gun and not a 'real' one [a lie.] Mostly as a backup weapon, however, as his main area is support. His gun is, similar to HotGuy's arrows, equipped with the ability to take multiple kinds of bullets. He has to be very careful to be sure that he's shooting the right one - think sort of like how the supports in Overwatch work, since my main is Baptiste, so he has like - healing 'bullets' which obviously arent really bullets, and then real bullets that actually do damage. I think there are also things like sleeping bullets, maybe electrified ones. He carries most of the utilitarian gadgets for their team too.

The Evoker: Think somewhat similar to Iron Man. It's a full body mech suit that Scar uses to walk around. It can fly, give him basic data about an area or someone, has weapons built into it, and later on Mumbo retrofits it with its own abilities like boosts to Scar's strength and speed. There's a voice synthisizer to hide Scar's identity, because he doesn't know WHY CuteGuy would stay with the Lab, but he can't trust him with any knowledge.

The Watcher - Blind. Literally. His powers partially compensate for this, but it's not like actually seeing with his eyes. And the transformation process to become the Watcher was INCREDIBLY painful for Grian, waking up in total darkness [which, to clarify, the blindness Grian experiences as the Watcher is not ACTUAL blindness. It is instead like they are blocking out his sight while still giving him...sight? I suppose? Like holding something in front of his vision, but they can take the blockage away at any time because he'll be more powerful. Like training with weights and then taking them off for a fight.] The Watcher's abilities let him 'see' things are outlines, or something simply sense they they are there. It's like having 360 vision but having no instincts of how to read it. He also can get flashes of the future, who allows him to do things like avoid bumping into people, or guess when Mumbo was trying to trap him with a net. But these future flashes are only correct some of the time, not all the time - the future can change in an instant after all. And it is NOT like having visions that go far into the future, more like a premonition of something happening seconds away. This allows Grian to live his life as though he could see but means that during his downtime, when he can't use his powers due to motion sickness and other illness, he has no idea how to navigate the world at all. He's been trying to get better, but the Lab doesn't like him NOT using his power, so it's incredibly difficult when he's being watched himself. Grian relies on his old methods of fighting, using a new gun and also, a sword, something he trained with before he became HotGuy's sidekick.

and as a bonus I wanna talk about the NHO guys bc,,,,, I love them.

Bdubs aka...I'm not really sure yet. We'll get there - He only had a brief stint as a powerless hero, most of his work was very lowkey in a team. He takes the experiment for powers because he wants to monetary boost - He's given plant powers [kind of like poison ivy?? I think] and they seal him in a sensory deprivation tank to get his powers to work. Did the Lab actually know that would work and wasn't just a form of torture? You decide!

Etho - not a Hero. He does, however, work for the lab as a spy. And hitman. Semi-military. Whatever they need him for really. He has his own redstone knowledge that he brought with him so he often messes with his own gadgets and helps their engineering teams out when he doesn't have a job. The Lab faked his death, because they needed him to be able to do his job without being tracked.

Beef aka The Butcher - He does not have powers, he instead in a melee-based fighting hero from around the same time that HotGuy and CuteGuy were active. He has a bulky full face mask he wears with a voice modulator built into it to conceal his identity.

Doc - Not a Hero. More like a hostage of the Lab - passive mob hybrids naturally exist in the world [Avians, sheep, etc.] but not neutral or aggressive mobs. Doc was part of the first round of experiments that were trying to make superpowers - and their first attempt was to fuse people with aggressive mobs [This is also where Tango comes from]. This plan failed - most people died, and those like Doc [and Tango] that didn't die were not what the lab needed. However, the evidence of what they'd done was far too obvious, and so the surviving hybrids are kept locked up deep within the Lab. Doc is an engineer who designed or improved most of the Lab's gadgets, which is how the NHO met - Doc is the one who makes all their gadgets.

#Asks #Anonymous #🍂 anon #Superhero AU #NHO #Mumscarian #Hermitshipping #<- not really in the post but it WILL be so

[squeemcsquee]

PeoriaCon 2023: Sunday

I split Sunday at the con between my friends Ren and Cody. My main goal on Sunday was to meet Walter Jones. To my surprise, the line was considerably shorter – I waited maybe 5 minutes? I had an old Power Rangers coloring book that I asked him to sign, which he did on both the front cover and an interior page. And I got a photo as well. It was expensive, but worth it to meet someone who was such a part of my childhood. And he was very kind – I was super nervous about meeting him and he definitely has a knack for making people relax.

After that, Ren and I wandered for a bit. They kindly waited while I decided to try out the Simpsons cabinet that I’d ignored on Saturday. They weren’t interested in playing with me, but another congoer joined me at the cabinet, and we did our best together. I recognized him as someone I’d spoken to about the Walter Jones line on Saturday and as we fought our way through Springfield in the game, we talked about our love for Power Rangers. It’s nice having those random moments of connection, whether they’re formed in a line or at a game cabinet or just walking around. It’s a reminder that we really are a community.

After my brief stint at gaming, we wandered the vendors a bit. Ren browsed one of the sword vendors a lot and was eyeing a version of the Master Sword but ultimately decided against it. We also found artists who Ren might commission cosplays or artwork from in the future. I loaded myself down with more prints and some other small items.

After a couple of hours, it was time to part ways with Ren and to meet up with Cody. Cody was also after an autograph from Walter Jones, so I just people-watched and played Pokemon Go.

 The 501st and local Ghostbusters unit were on hand both Saturday and Sunday and they were wandering around the con. I noticed that on the whole, there seemed to be less cosplay on Sunday, though I think cosplay photography was still being offered. I did get a few cosplayers, though.

After Cody got his photo and autograph, we looked at the panel list.

 Once again, nothing caught my eye, and Cody isn’t as gung-ho on panels anyway. So we went to the gaming cabinets so Cody could get some free play on Ninja Turtles.

And then, yet another round of shopping for me. Cody did far less shopping and far more excited messaging with people about his autograph, but I can’t blame him.

I noticed there was an artist doing caricature work. I had never gotten a caricature before, so I decided, why the heck not? 

She and I spoke about her experiences at the con over the course of the weekend while she worked on the caricature. I found out that doing the caricatures wasn’t her original plan, but she decided to offer it just to see if anyone would be interested. As she finished mine, a young attendee and their parent walked up to inquire about getting theirs done. So I know she had at least two caricature customers. I hope she got others – she was very nice to talk to and talented. I also got some prints of her original artwork.

And then it was time to call it a day. Sunday was far less eventful, but since I’d neglected a lunch break, I was more than happy to go when I was done. But I do need to show off what was probably one of my favorite purchases all weekend, because boy do these miniatures bring back memories of how things were right as I started attending cons. 

All PeoriaCon 2023 coverage:

Saturday

Sunday (current post)

#peoriacon #peoriacon2023 #con review #con report #prose and cons

[smileytiger28]

Quantumania thoughts, by character

The Heist Guys

I love and miss them and removing them from this movie was its biggest flaw. Except the one played by TI because TI is a scumbag.

Scott

As much as everyone, especially my dad, loves Paul Rudd, I don’t buy him in this movie as a dramatic actor. Probably has to do with the tropey writing and stuff more than Paul’s actual chops but there’s no small parts etc. this movie just tried so hard to be taken seriously that gave up its pedestrian, relatable humor — the thing that made the first two movies so great, and the thing that attaches Paul Rudd to this character — and replaced it with contrived and tropey drama. It felt sometimes like Paul Rudd was trying to imitate Generic Action Hero, which he isn’t great at and nobody wants. Highlights of his performance include: the end where he’s like “oh shit did I just mess everything up? No I didn’t, denial time!”, the part where all his “possibilities” pile on each other all saying “Cassie” because they work together driven by the purity of a father’s love.

Cassie

why did they recast her. I loved Emma Fuhrmann in Endgame and felt really bad when she only learned she has been replaced through comiccon/d23/etc. From a casting perspective, I get it; Fuhrmann was meant to fill a small role in a huge movie, so they probably recast when the part became much more significant (setting up for a young avengers movie). But Kathryn is just not very good. TBF the only other movie I’ve seen her in was Detective Pikachu in which she was much worse. Not sure if it’s the acting or the writing that hurts Cassie more. But her character in this is basically “I am an activist that cares about people” like that’s great in real life but I want to be invested in her and I’m not

hope

Literally did nothing but effective altruism in the beginning of the movie, what a downgrade

Hank

By far the character with the best upgrade in this movie. From movies 1-3, he’s gone through great character development, learning to respect Scott and Hope in their own right. He’s also gradually gone from dry exposition dumper (1) to once-in-a-while joke-maker (2) to “summoned an ant army to defeat a multiversal conqueror”/nerdy/perhaps even autistic about ants (3). I love when he admitted to reading Scott’s book: “every goddamn word”, said both proudly and teasingly.

Kang

Current legal shit aside, I was not expecting to hate him this much. I didn't like Majors in Loki, but I figured that had to do with the direction, not the acting chops of Majors himself. When I saw the reviews for this movie, which generally sold Majors as the film's only merit, I was expecting something great from his performance. Instead, we got Majors doing what I guess was either his best Morgan Freeman impression or a really bad trans-atlantic/English accent (posh vowels and clipped t's). Whatever he was trying to do simply did not work for me. The Council of Kangs post-credit scene looked to me like a bunch of Party City costumes.

Jentorra

Played by Katy O’Brien, who I know from my brief stint watching Black Lightning and who gave an equally meh performance in The Mandalorian S3. The one thing I like about this character, who is otherwise a pretty basic stoic/traumatized my-entire-species-died-and-now-I-am-a-badass-warrior-woman, is her dynamic with Cassie. Yes, Hope could have been Cassie’s female role model, and she basically did nothing in this movie, so that’s kinda sad. But there’s something nice about the Jentorra and Cassie finding what they need in life from each other: Cassie a strong voice for justice and a girlboss internship, and Jentorra a piece of innocence and hope she was too jaded to hold onto. I wish we explored that a bit more.

MODOK

If I read any comics featuring MODOK, or even watched the Patton Oswalt MODOK show, I’m sure I would hate Darren/MODOK. And in a lot of ways I do. But he works most of the time as comic relief, half-satirizing his own role as the old enemy that "came back better than ever!" It never got old when he would introduce himself, a main character would be like "Darren?" and he'd be like "Not anymore! I've been reborn as a new and improved version of myself! mwahaha!" And the main character would be like "Umm improved, sure." I loved when Scott was comming him and he'd only answer to MODOK.

Re: the redemption arc. Before watching the movie, I saw a leaked screenshot of the death scene where he says “at least I died an avenger.” That spoiled the MODOK=Darren reveal + death scene + redemption arc for me, but I was mostly upset that the movie would do something so blatantly cheesy with the dying scene. When I saw the movie, I was mostly glad that the scene wasn't meant to be taken seriously; that monologue is treated as self-righteous rather than earnest. However the redemption arc still does kind of come out of nowhere and it's lame.

Other Minor Characters

I liked Bill Murray as a sleazebag that reeeeally wants to give Hank the impression that he slept with his wife. I liked the group of weirdos fighting against Kang, and the "drink the ooze" scene was cute. Lowkey wish Scott and Hope ended up trapped in the Quantum Realm and became benevolent rulers for a few years. Overall, meh movie, would not watch again. Hope the fanfic is better.

#quantumania #mcu #tiger roars 🐯

[marjansmarwani]

I don’t feel alive if i’m not in the fight

1.7k || ao3 

TK and Nancy steal the ambulance and Carlos has concerns ---- A 2x14 missing moment

Titled “TK and Nancy do Crime” until a few minutes ago this one is really all about the friendship vibes. 

---------

“So,” Nancy said as she and TK climbed into her car, “part one is stealing an ambulance, clearly. I’m more curious about part two and this mysterious child care you offered.” 

“It’s not that mysterious,” TK admitted as he pulled out his phone, “it’s Carlos’s day off.” 

Nancy raised an eyebrow, “And you think he’ll be happy to spend it with a pair of 8-year-olds? That’s a bold assumption, Strand.” 

“Carlos loves kids,” TK counters with a roll of his eyes, “and kids love Carlos. It’s a win-win.” 

“No, Carlos loves you and that’s why this is going to work,” Nancy countered and TK grinned, trying to ignore the blush he could feel creeping up his cheeks at the matter-of-fact way Nancy said it. He opened his phone instead of answering, tapping on Carlos’s name on the top of his favorites list. It rang once before he picked up, voice somewhat frantic. 

“TK! Are you okay? This storm…” 

“I’m fine, babe,” TK assured him evenly, “how about you? Everything okay there?” 

“Yeah,” Carlos replied, relief evident in his voice, “everything’s fine. Buttercup and I were just outside surveying the damage. Nothing too bad, by the looks of it.” 

“That’s good,” TK agreed, relieved that nothing serious had happened at his dad’s house. He didn’t think any of them could handle one more loss of a home. “But I do have a favor to ask you.” 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not on your way home?” Carlos asked, voice suspicious.  

“Because I’m not,” TK admitted. “We were watching the coverage and there are no medical teams out there, Carlos.” 

“But your ambulance is still locked up in the AFD garage, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” TK agreed, “Nancy and I are on our way there now.”

Carlos was quiet for a second before he asked a question that sounded like he already knew the answer to, “TK, are you and Nancy about to steal an ambulance?”

“No!” TK retorted defensively, “We’re just borrowing it. We’ll put it back when we’re done. Besides,” he added, “it is our ambulance.” 

“And Captain Vega is on board with this act of larceny?”

“She is, which brings me to the favor,” TK said quickly, “would you mind watching her girls? Everyone else is on shift and Grace just went back to work today so there is nobody else and…” 

“Sure,” Carlos responded, cutting off TK’s rambling. 

“Really?” TK asked, surprised. It wasn’t that he had thought Carlos would say no, he just hadn’t been expecting him to agree so readily. 

“Really,” Carlos confirmed. “I like the girls and it sounds like Tommy could use all the help she can get. Besides,” he added, voice going more serious, “these aren’t exactly normal circumstances.” 

“When are they ever?” TK joked, but it wasn’t as light-hearted as he would have liked. There has been so much happening lately and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t weighing on him. He knew he wasn’t the only one. 

“That’s fair,” Carlos agreed. “But still, I’m happy to help. Just promise me you’ll be careful out there, and try not to get arrested stealing an ambulance. It would be awkward to have to bail my boyfriend out at my own precinct.” 

“Good news then,” TK quipped, “I don’t think the AFD garage is in your jurisdiction.” 

There was quiet for a second before Carlos’s voice sounded again, “You do realize that’s worse, right?” 

TK was saved the trouble of replying as Nancy pulled into the parking lot of the department garage. 

“Gotta go babe, we’re here!” He said instead, pausing for a moment before he hung up the phone, able to sense Carlos’s unease even from here. “And we’ll be careful, I promise.” 

“Can you at least text me when you leave to let me know you did not in fact get arrested?” Carlos asked wearily, “Because if I don’t hear from you in the next half hour I’m going to assume you did.” 

“You’d know anyways,” TK reminded him brightly, “you’d be my one phone call, for sure.” 

“I’m flattered,” Carlos deadpanned, but TK could hear the smile he was trying to hide. “I love you, be careful.” 

“Always am, and I love you too.” 

He ended the call and went to unbuckle his seatbelt when Nancy spoke from the driver’s seat.

“I didn’t think it was possible but you two are just as nauseating when you’re not even in the same room.” 

“You’re just jealous Gillian,” TK fired back with a cheeky grin. “Besides, he agreed to babysit.” 

“That seemed like an awfully long conversation for just that.” 

“He also had some concerns about us stealing an ambulance,” TK admitted, climbing out of Nancy’s car as he spoke, “but I told him it’ll be fine. It’s barely stealing anyways.” 

Nancy shook her head but didn’t argue, choosing instead to follow TK’s lead out of the car and into the garage. He led the way to a side door that swung open easily before they stepped in. The ambulance wasn’t hard to spot, the side with Tim’s name painted on it clearly visible even from the doorway. They both stared at it for a second before Nancy nudged TK. 

“You said you knew where they kept the keys?” she whispered, and he nodded. 

“Yeah,” he replied, matching her volume, “I’ll go grab them. Can you go and start checking the supplies?” 

She nodded and TK grinned at her before slipping off to the side, disappearing around a corner. Nancy headed forwards instead, approaching the ambulance with reverence. After everything that had happened, just seeing the familiar vehicle brought her a small amount of comfort. She opened the back doors when she reached it, climbing in and taking a second to appreciate the familiar sight and feeling before she set about checking the inventory. 

She was so focused on the task at hand that she didn't even notice the sound of approaching footsteps until they stopped in front of the open ambulance doors. Even then she didn’t look up until an unfamiliar voice sounded from outside: “Gillian?” 

She turned sharply, nearly dropping the handful of wrapped syringes she was holding as she looked towards the figure standing outside the door, “Neiman? What are you doing here?” 

“What am I—you’re the one in the back of an ambulance parked in a secure facility, Gillian! What are you doing here?”

“Not stealing our ambulance?” she suggested tentatively. The new arrival — Clark Neiman, who Nancy had worked with during a brief stint at the 121 — groaned and ran a weary hand over his face. 

“I do not get paid enough to deal with this,” he lamented and Nancy nodded sympathetically. He studied her for a second and sighed. “Look,” he began, “I’m sure you have a very good reason to do whatever it is you’re doing, but I’m in charge of the ambulances that come in and out of here. If one were to go missing, I’m the one that has to answer for that.” 

“And I hear you, really,” Nancy agreed. “That’s a tough spot to be in. But have you seen it out there? It’s chaos and there are not enough medics to cover it all. But we have a team ready and willing to get out there, we just need the ambulance.” 

She threw him a hopeful glance, doing her best to look convincing. After a moment he sighed, “At least tell me you weren’t planning on hotwiring it?” 

“No, we’re getting the—” but she was cut off by the sound of quick footsteps and she trailed off with a wince as her partner came into view. 

“I got the keys!” TK’s voice proclaimed as he jogged over, coming to a halt when he saw Nieman by the doors, his triumphant grin falling from his face. 

The three paramedics studied each other for a tense moment before Nieman threw up his hands. “You know what?” he declared, “I didn’t see a thing. And I think the security cameras are on the fritz from all the dust. They might just be down for the rest of the day.” He turned to walk away before pausing and turning to Nancy one more time, “Just try to bring it back in one piece, please?” 

Nancy nodded and gave him a grateful smile, “We’ll do our best. Thanks, Clark, really.” 

He shook his head before turning away again, “Don’t thank me — literally, I mean that. I was never here.” 

With that, he was gone and Nancy was left with just her handful of syringes and TK’s curious gaze on her. She met his questioning eyes with a shrug, “What?” she challenged, “You think you’re the only one with secret knowledge of the department. I’ve been around, I know people.” 

“Uh-huh,” he agreed, still not convinced but she just rolled her eyes. 

“You’ve got the keys, I’ve checked the supplies — are we doing this or what?”

“Not having second thoughts?” TK asked her as she climbed out of the back of the rig. 

“Did you just miss the part where I talked the guy in charge of the ambulances into letting us steal it? I am very much in this, Strand; you’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides,” she added with a grin as she climbed into the passenger seat, “If we do get arrested I’m pretty sure Carlos would bail me out too.” 

“You think so, huh?” TK asked cheekily as he slid the key into the ignition and started the ambulance. 

“Oh, I know so. He wouldn’t leave me to rot in prison; he knows I am the only thing keeping you from doing reckless stupid shit in the field.”

TK made an indignant sound but she only grinned in response, buckling her seatbelt and looking at him expectantly, “Well what are you waiting for?” she asked, “There are people who need to be saved.” 

“126 to the rescue?” TK asked as he shifted the ambulance into gear and drove towards the exit, leaving the garage and any chance that they had not just stolen AFD property behind. 

“You know it,” Nancy confirmed with a nod and a grin. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #911ls spoilers #nancy gillian #tk strand #my writing #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #usermaximus #userbones #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #jazzyjess #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #and probably a bunch of other people I usually tag but I'm tired and my brain's not working I'm sorry

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For You

Warnings: vampire, feeding blood, IV, drawing blood, forced drugging, passing out/collapse, blood loss, delirious state of consciousness, hallucination, death thoughts, fever, starvation, pills, forced medication

There was no strength left in their body. No strength to run, no strength to fight, and absolutely no strength to take care of them.

Villain laid on the cool, wooden floor of their bedroom, too weak to do much more than periodically twitch their fingers. Their eyes drifted closed every once in a while, only to open when they remembered that Hero was starving in the bes above them.

Villain rolled over onto their stomach, the motion causing the world to contort and waver into a dizzying pallette of pastel colors. They breathed deeply, gathering their arms underneath them before heaving themself up and into a sitting position.

After about five minutes of sitting there with their eyes squeezed shut, trying not to sway from their taxing position, Villain reached forward and grabbed the IV off the night stand.

"V-villain," Hero murmured. Villain cast them a long glance. Their nemesis was hardly conscious on the bed, starved and heavily drugged. Villain gulped. They didn't want to keep them sedated like this, but they would try to kill Villain otherwise.

"Sorry," Villain slurred, their voice was as fragile as Hero's.

"Mmn," Hero groaned and slightly opened their mouth, awaiting the meal. Villain gave a small nod that nearly caused them to fall back onto the ground. They put a tube into Hero's mouth then inserted the needle into their own wrist.

Within a second, the delirious and greedy vampire started to gulp frantically. Villain's bottom lip trembled as they felt their limited blood supply diminish.

After only thirty seconds, Villain began to feel incredibly light-headed and contemplated whether or not to stop Hero's feeding. But one look at the desperate face made Villain decided on the former- just a minute longer.

"Hmph," Villain gasped as they slumped forward onto the bed, their consciousness wavering. With shaky hands, they clutched the needled and deftly drew it out of their vein before falling completely unconscious.

Villain drifted between sleep and wakefulness for a while, still collapsed on Hero's bed. During their brief stints of consciousness they woule remind themselves of Hero's next dose, but couldn't bring their depleted body to do so.

They feel vaguely feel the awakening Hero stirring under their body. Villain pushed themselves backwards, planning on standing fully up and going about their day, but their body had other plans. They fell back, hitting their back against the ground as the world was submerged in a dark shade of ebony.

"Villain! Open up!"

Villain moaned and tried to peel their eyes open, but they were too heavy.

The voice- it was a voice, they were sure- came again, "Villain. You need help, open the door!"

Villain didn't need help, they were sure of it. Hero did- Hero needed to eat and Villain was able to take care of them. For them.

"For you," Villain whispered, almost like the faintest breeze.

Their fingers curled into the hard ground. They were aware of the floor's cool features, but oddly it felt warm. Too warm.

Villain forced their eyes open and saw a trickle of blood coming out of their veins from where the IV was still attached. They were so certaib that they removed it and seeing it felt like a rock was dropped into their stomach.

Villain tried to reach over and pull it out, but failed, letting out a strangled sob as they tried to call upon their healing powers. Using them made them completely exhausted, but it kept them and Hero alive.

Villain, after a few agonizing seconds of calling their power, finally felt a comforting tingling through their fingers as their body created some blood. It was low in oxygen and lacked all the necessary and vital functions that blood cells carried out, but it did a decent job at feeding Hero.

Villain sighed in relief as the new warmth spread throughout their body, drawing them back into sleep...

Villain woke rather unpleasantly. They were only aware of the heat gathering in their head and the fact that they were cold- oh so cold. They moved their hands about, testing their environment, but was quite confused at the outcome. Wet. They were wet and cold.

Villain cracked open an eye and looked around. White walls with small shelves that held various bottles. Looking down, they saw tiny glaciers floating around a small expanse of artic water.

Suddenly, they tensed, scared and completely convinced that they were indeed trapped in a frigid ocean.

"Shh," came a voice, foggy and distant as if Villain's ears were underwater. Maybe they were, Villain couldn't tell for panic consumed them.

So Villain continued their struggles even as ropes wrapped around their head pulling them against hard surface. A boat. They were going to be crushed by a boat. They kicked and resisted the ropes that tied them so tightly against the imminet danger.

"Let me go!" Villain yelled, pushing away. The ropes let go, cut away by the knives that threatened to slit Villain's throat.

The term "knives" was literal. There wasn't just one silver dagger, but five, all working to free Villain before they decided to end the suffering person themself.

Those knives grabbed Villain's bare chest, right above their heart as they were pulled right back against the boat.

"Villain. You need to calm down. You have a fever, you are safe, okay? So is Hero. Do you hear me? Hero is being taken care of."

Hero... taken care up... Villain allowed their tired body to slump deep into the cold waves as they waited for one to take them to their grave.

But the merciless ropes and knives held them up, keeping them from drowning. Soft tendrils drifted through their hair and for a moment fear enveloped Villain at the thought of a mysterious plant suffocating them.

But, once they decided that the tendrils were kind, they leaned into the gesture, closing their bloodshot eyes as darkness closed around them...

Villain woke up, dazed and confused. They struggled under the thin sheet that covered their pale body, but was too weak to push it off.

Looking around, they noticed that they were in a foreign- possibly dangerous environment. The memories of the night before were foggy like they were swallowed, threwn up, then swallowed again.

But they did remember Hero, sick and starved on Villain's bed.

"Ah your awake," came a tired voice. Villain's gaze shot to the person sitting next to them. It took a moment but...

Supervillain.

Villain flinched and tried to run away, only to get tangled and stuck on the floor. Carpet, not wood.

They weren't in their house.

Villain squirmed, terrified of the all too familiar face. The face that brought tears of pain to many. The face that was probably here to punish Villain for taking care of a hero.

But Supervillain only walked to the other side of the bed, scooped the weak villain up, and laid them prone on the bed.

"Are you too warm?" Supervillain asked, placing their cold hand upon Villain's burning forehead. The cold hand that was going to be the death of Villain...

"Still running a fever..." Supervillain murmured and turned around. Villain barely had time to register the words before they were faced with a small, evil-looking, torture device.

Oh boy did it look simple and the possibilities were endless of what it would do. Villain imagine maybe it had a hidden needle and they would be drugged. They also wondered if it contained a knife- knives were threatening them before, why not do it now?

But nothing prepared them for the way Supervillain clutched Villain's jaw, forcing it open and sticking the device under their tongue.

Nothing prepared them for the lack of pain other that a sharp pinch. Their eyes began to flutter closed. After all, Supervillain wasn't torturing them...

A loud beeeep brought them back around. They stared deep into Supervillain's concerned eyes.

"I'm going to get you some medicine. Okay?" Supervillain laid a hand on Villain's head. "Try to stay awake for me."

Villain swallowed and nodded, small and helpless. Weak and fragile like a thin glass just waiting to break at the slightest touch.

But, despite Supervillain's request, Villain began to doze off only to awake when they felt like they were falling. They kept on forgetting what their half-consious self was dreaming or thinking about after those falls.

"Dang it Villain," Supervillain groaned when they entered the room and saw their colleague's eyes half-rolled into their head as they stared at the ceiling without any real object or reason.

"Come here," Supervillain cooed and gently cupped Villain's chin, opening it, and slipped the medicine into their mouth. They hoped that the sick villain still had some instinctual reflexes as they dumped some water down their throat. Supervillain then went to work on rubbing Villain's throat until they swallowed, taking the tylenol nto their stomach.

"Good job," Supervillain praised. They wiped Villain's sweating brow with a wet cloth while their patient drifted off to sleep. Supervillain did nothing to stop it.

Hero was struggling against the restraints as henchmen pried their mouth open.

"Gosh!" One of them squealed when Hero nipped at their hand. "They got rabies or something? They are wacko."

"They are a vampire you dim-wit," another henchman growled. That same henchman took Hero's mouth with some pliers and held it open long enough for the other to slipped some tablets into their mouth.

The hero swallowed and hissed.

"Okay. Supervillain told me that those will keep their vampire side at bay until they gain some weight," Henchman1, the one got bit said, wiping their nose with their hand.

Hero continued snarling until they exhausted themselves, slipping into sleep. Henchman2, the other, stood up and started to pace.

"Knock that off," Henchman1 snapped, standing up themselves. "You are taking first watch."

"No. You," Henchman2 shoved their friend. "I am not sitting with a freaking vampire. Did you see Villain? Part of me wonders if they were mind controlled."

"I thoroughly assure you that they weren't," Henchman1 rolled their eyes and slipped away from Henchman2. They opened the cell door and left.

Henchman2 walked over to Hero where they laid on a cot, unmoving. But, as if the presence of another was like a stimuli, the hero woke up.

Their eyes this time were not filled with desperate starvation or anger, but of worry.

"Where's Villain?" They asked, looking around. "They are not thinking. It's dangerous... it's..." they trailed off, their gaze meeting Henchman2's. "Are they dead?" They chirped.

"No, but sick and unconscious," Henchman2 replied, relaying the last update. That was about five minutes ago.

"They need my saliva," Hero continued. "To quicken the healing process. I cannot stimulate blood production, but I can share my healing."

"Villain has a healing factor as well and it doesn't seem to work."

"Because they are beyond exhaustion. Pair that will blood loss and starvation themselves, their chances of surviving are low. They need my saliva."

"How do I know this isn't a trick. A way to eat more?"

"I am human now. I need actual food. When the vampire takes over is when I can only consume blood," Hero glanced down at their bony wrists. "Blood satisfies like candy, but it is far from nutrious, but I thank Villain. Truly."

Henchamn2 smiled despite their best effort to remain nonchalant.

"I'm glad you do."

~ not going to edit, so I apologize for any mistakes

#villain whumpee #hero whumpee #hero whumper #? i guess #vampire #drugged #feverish villain #feverish whumpee #hallucination #unconscious whumpee #passing out #supervillain caretaker #blood tw #blood drawing #force fed #hero x villain

[nny11writes]

Who are your favourite spop characters and why?

Oh man, I genuinely love every single character in SPOP lol so ranking lists are always switching around in my head for who I like the most. Most of the top contenders trade places on a whim too.

I think I have to say Catra as my top fave, but really she's just the one I find easiest to write for. She's complex and messy, and my comfort characters tend to be short angry women who are fucking trying okay. She tends to dominate the top of the list because of how many facets there are both to her and the way she perceives things. I just, god, I love this catgirl. There are better people out there who've written love letters to Catra and they're right.

Glimmer is my next favorite who sometimes knocks Catra off her lofty throne. And I gotta be honest, it's always a shock when I realize that. Confession time: when I first was watching and all we had was Season 1 out, Glimmer was the only character I actually hated. Yeah. I liked Swift Wind more than her at that point. And it's because I sold her EXTREMELY short in S1. As the show went on I realized that Glimmer's also a super complex character and not just a perky privileged girl next door trope. She's one of my favorite characters in the whole thing now because she's so fun, intense, and well meaning. She also hits my small angry women who are fucking trying okay comfort needs, but it's absolutely refreshing to have that in someone who is also (mostly) working hard to be a friendly, upbeat type.

Entrapta is someone who is always vying for spots 1 and 2 on this list. There was a brief stint where she was my favorite character in the show, and so she deserves to be on this list of who's my fave and why. As to why, LOOK AT HER! Chaos mad scientist gremlin! *chef kiss* Love her or hate her, this is what peak human performance looks like baby! I think Entrapta would handily kick Glimmer and Catra's asses on this list if she'd had a little more screen time for development and screen time with her being treated more seriously. I know I just cracked a joke here about her chaos status, but I do wish we'd had more with her that was serious. I love the moment in S5 where Entrapta, so fucking quietly, explains that she thought she could use her tech to be a better friend. Like, damn, she has Adora levels of "my worth to others is based on what exchanges I can make for their love and affection" but with less self sacrificing and more robots that can blow you up. Fans have picked up a lot of slack to help showcase Entrapta's nuances and talk through why she reacts the ways she does. (not all SPOP fans mind you, but some) But yeah, I love her desperately.

Shadow Weaver is also on this top contenders section. I'm less interested in breaking her down as a character and finding complexities (and there are plenty to be found), although I do like taking some jaunts into her head. I have several short meta pieces I wrote throughout the series about her, none of which I want to share as they've changed as we learned more about her. Man, I just- I love Shadow Weaver. She is a fantastic villain/antagonist and I think she's possibly the best done one on the show. When Weaver is on screen she has my damned attention, even in the background, in a way no one else does. Prime is a bigger threat and more disturbing, he's a great Big Bad for the series. But if these two were in a room together I wouldn't look at him unless he's center frame lol. Fantastic character!

And because I'm sure someone will want to say shit on that opinion, liking a character doesn't mean I would condone a real life person doing the things she did or acting the way she acted. But she is a cartoon character who is supposed to be awful, and the whole crew did a fantastic job making that happen. And as such I love Shadow Weaver.

After my top contenders it's an amorphous blob of Adora, Angella, Scorpia. Then Bow, Lonnie, and Perfuma.

Then another amorphous blob of literally everyone else.

Again, I genuinely enjoy every character on this show and I really love reading meta on them. I've been really enjoying a lot of Hordak centered things I've seen recently, which have given me a lot to think about for my own assumptions as well as giving him more depth.

Huge shout out to fic writers who have, like, 5 PoV characters and help me fall more in love with characters from this show!

#spop #she ra #favorite characters #anon ask #I wish Bow had more screen time I want to love him so much more than I do #I like him and I think he's interesting! #But the main reason you've never seen me write from his PoV is I know I'd do his character a major disservice #but man it felt bad to be able to put him a little higher up #rankings = #Love Love LOVE #Really like a lot! #Very enjoyable #Entertaining and interesting #I don't know I just think they're neat :) #and Well Duh I Like Them Why Wouldn't I?

[elizabeethan]

Watch The Sunlight Fade: 3 / 18

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: You may have noticed a chapter count! It’s subject to change, but I’ve outlined the whole story and have written halfway through chapter 12, so we’re getting there, friends. Reminder to check warnings and tags and message me if you have questions. There will be depictions of violence, domestic violence, very very brief discussions of non-con (kind of) and psychological abuse throughout this story.

Rated M

Get added to my tag list

Read the Rest

Read my Other Stuff

Read on Ao3

~~~~

The door to his apartment slams behind her as she stumbles in, the alcohol in her veins obviously taking over as he helps to steady her. “Easy,” he warns, hand on her waist as he guides her towards the guest room. 

 “You’re not gonna let me stay in bed with you, big guy?” she slurs, giving him a flirty smile. 

 “No, love,” he answers softly. “You need rest.”

 With a giggle, she answers, “I get paid to have sex with people. Shouldn’t you be flattered that I’m soliciting you?”

 “Tink,” he laughs, “I am very flattered. But you need to go to bed.”

 “I can still give you a good time even though I’m drunk, you know,” she promises, letting her fingers dance along the lapels of his jacket. 

 “I know that, love. I just think… perhaps it’s time to… bring this arrangement to a close.”

She pouts, her bottom lip popping out and her brows furrowing. “Something I said?” she asks. 

 With a slight shake to his head, he smiles shyly down at her and brushes a wayward strand of her honey locks out of her eye. “No, but perhaps we can finish this tomorrow morning when you’re sober?”

 Tink shrugs, letting her heavy kids fall closed and turning around to stumble down the hall. “It’s okay,” she says as she finds the doorknob. “I know it’s that blonde girl.”

 “Liv…” he starts, although he isn’t sure where he’s going as he begins to speak. It’s not the blonde girl, not really. Although he felt a connection to her from the moment he saw her, he also knows that his and Tink’s fling is just that: a fling. It can’t last, and while he likes her well enough, he thinks it unfair to continue on with something to which he isn’t fully dedicated. “It’s not you.” 

 She snorts and nods her head lazily, letting it flop a bit too freely on her neck. “It’s not you, it’s me. I get it.” 

 “Hey,” he tries again, giving her a soft smile as he tucks away the same defiant strand of her hair. “I’ll always be here for you, you know that. I’ll always have love for you.”

 “Yeah,” she smiles with a soft blush, her lids looking heavier and heavier with each passing moment. “I love you, too, bud. It was probably a bad idea to sleep with your best friend anyway.” 

 “I’m not sleeping with Robin,” he deadpans, knowing with certainty that it’ll draw a hearty laugh from her. She pushes against his shoulder with more force that she was likely expecting and turns around to open the door to his guest room. 

 “You dolt.” Once she’s in the room, just as she’s about to shut the door behind her, she spins quickly to face him once more. “By the way, you’re a total idiot if you go after her.” 

 “Bloody hell, not you too,” he complains as he scratches behind his ear. 

 “She belongs to Cassidy and you know it. You know what’ll happen if you pursue her.” 

 “Aye, that’s why I have no intention of doing so. Now, go to bed, Olivia.” 

 “Ooh,” she fakes a shudder, “full name; I must've been naughty.” 

 “Aye, you were. Goodnight, love.” 

 “Night, KJ.” 

 He listens to her giggle as she stumbles through the room, one she’s stayed in countless times before. She’s right; they probably never should’ve started their affair in the first place. Sleeping with your best friend is bound to end badly. But they understand each other, each of them here with hardly a choice on whether they stay or go. It isn’t as if they’re being held against their will, but the implication is that they’ll seriously regret it if they try to leave, one way or another. They simply both took comfort in knowing that someone else felt as they did. 

 He’s about to go to bed himself, ready to rid himself of the guilt that came along with the events of the day, but he pauses as he walks by his front door just in time to hear a resounding thud coming from across the hall. He panics and swings his own door open when he hears the terrified cry in response. He heard something earlier today that sounded exactly like that terrified cry. 

 Rushing over to Neal’s apartment, he places his hand on the knob and presses his ear to the door. He doesn’t want to burst in with haste since he has no idea what he actually heard, and the door must be locked anyway. But he can’t help but recall the image of her pressed to the door looking horrified, two knives on either side of her throat. He can’t get the look in her eyes out of his head. 

 There aren’t anymore sounds resonating from the apartment, silence falling over him as he attempts to listen out for signs of trouble. After a moment, all he hears are soft, painful sobs coming from the other side of the door. 

 ~~~~

 It’s surprisingly even more terrifying to be in the shop during the day than it was at night. At least when she was here last night, the shadows kept the frightening details of the space hidden, but now that the sun is up and streaming through the small basement windows, she’s able to see too much. 

 She can see the aged and worn paint on the walls, giving her an automatic and infallible feeling of unease. She can see the decorative weapons proudly displayed on every inch of every wall. She can see the rugged violence on each of the men’s faces so clearly in the sunlight. Being here terrifies her. 

 “Morning, Miss Swan,” Peter greets as Neal leads her into the large meeting room. He’s already sitting at the table waiting for them, Gold at his right and two empty seats to his left. There are several other members at the table as well, and she can’t help but notice how bright Killian’s eyes look in the sun streaming through the windows. “Welcome to your first real family meeting.” 

 The others around the table laugh, everyone but Jones seeming to find his joke about her near death experience to be funny. “Aren’t you going to say hello?” Neal asks in her ear, his voice low and his teeth clearly clenched. 

 She clears her throat and gives Peter the fakest smile she can muster. “Good morning.”

 “That’s a good lass,” he praises, setting free a flock of anxious butterflies in her stomach. “Come sit. We saved you a seat by Neal.” 

 They sit side by side, and it’s becoming easier and easier to question his ranking within the group of men at the table. She finds it impossible to see him as a simple lackey when his name is carved into the table in intricate lettering in front of his chair, directly to the left of Peter's seat at the head. 

 There are talks of their plans, and she gathers some information easily while they seem to go to great lengths to keep other things hidden from her based on the threatening glances Peter doles out from time to time. There’s a trip coming up, and it’s automatically assumed that Neal will be going with Peter and Gold will be staying behind, as if this arrangement was made and agreed upon a lifetime ago. Once the other attendees are determined, Peter turns to face her and gives her a smile. 

 “Now, a job for you, my dear. Neal tells us you have a talent in finding people.” 

 “She can find anyone,” Neal says proudly, referring to her short stint as a bail bondsperson back when she lived in Boston. When she had met Neal after he witnessed her taking down a skip, he took her under his wing and told her she didn’t have to live such a dangerous lifestyle anymore. “Well, almost anyone.” 

 Her stomach flips at his hint; at his willingness to bring up one of the most painful memories she has. She’s great at finding people, but in 25 years, she still hasn’t been able to find her parents. 

 Pan hums. “We can look past a few failed attempts. What we need from you now, Emma, is your skillset to find a certain someone who deserted our cause.”

 She gulps. “You want me to hunt down someone who doesn’t agree with you?” 

 “No love,” he laughs, and Neal’s grip on her hand tightens just a notch. “I want you to find someone who has valuable information and won’t hesitate to hand it over to a rival.” Emma bites her lip in thought, concern likely colored across her face. She hadn’t considered the existence of a rival gang before this moment, and she becomes frightened to think of there being more than one set of men like them. The thought that another gang is out there and considers themselves rivals to The Lost Boys means she’s potentially putting herself in even more danger by becoming associated with them. What will another gang do to the girlfriend of one of their rival’s members, especially a member whom she suspects is higher up in the rankings than he’s letting on? 

 “It’s not lost on me that you’re feeling uncomfortable here, Emma. The tension between you and Neal is perfectly palpable. But I’d implore you to let go of your fears; no one here will harm you. We’re here to protect you. By simply being associated with Neal, you have the protection of everyone in this club. And I’m sure it makes perfect sense that we would expect something of you in return for our unquestioning devotion to your safety.” 

 Although something about his words makes her suspicious, she suddenly feels a sense of strength at his claim that she’s a part of the group now. It’s as if he’s telling her that her thoughts and opinions matter, so she makes a bold choice and speaks up. “Can I clarify something?” she asks. 

 “Of course.” 

 “What are you protecting me from, exactly?” 

 Peter smirks and shakes his head, giving Neal a look that she can’t quite read. “I suppose Neal hasn’t informed you of how dangerous a place this world can be for a woman like you, Miss Swan. Your love for Neal makes you a target, as does Neal’s love for you. By falling for him, you’ve also fallen into our world. And because we’re so devoted to what you have to offer, we will protect you from everyone who may want to hurt Neal.” 

 “Just because I can find people pretty easily?” she asks doubtfully. His explanation isn’t making any sense to her. She can’t rectify in her head how loving Neal can equate to requiring constant protection, especially based on his claim that he’s going to be leaving soon. 

 “No, Emma,” he laughs condescendingly, as if he were talking to a child who couldn’t handle the truth. She wonders if he’s right. “Worry not; all will make sense to you as time goes by. For now, let's get started with your first assignment. Hook, show the lady to her office.” 

 ~~~~

 “Most sites are blocked here,” he explains as he powers up the old desktop, groaning softly as he stands again. “You’ll likely run into trouble if you try to find him on Facebook or anything.” 

 “Why?” she asks, and although she immediately regrets opening her mouth, the look he gives her feels more amused than anything. 

 “Why?” 

 “Um… why are they blocked?” 

 He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head and looking away from her once he notices that the computer has booted up. “To keep you out of trouble, I suppose.” 

 She bites her bottom lip, squeezing her fists until she feels the sting of her nails digging into her palm. She isn’t sure that, in the last day since she’s come here, she’s been kept out of trouble at all. She’s been in trouble-- in danger-- since she heard those bikes pulling up behind her and Neal. 

 “Right,” she says softly, sarcastically, and again, she kicks herself for opening her mouth. She wonders what would have happened to her by now if she was with anyone but Jones in this moment. 

 “Love,” he starts, his voice soft and tender, and she almost wonders if he intends to step close to her. Perhaps he means to comfort her. “I’m--” he clears his throat, “If you need anything…” 

 Their eyes meet, and it’s like the first time again. His azure stare bores into her in a way that makes her shudder, but not out of fear this time. She feels seen, understood, and while it’s only been a day since her traumatic greeting from the club, it feels like a lifetime since she’s felt a sense of safety. It feels comforting to meet his gaze, and she suddenly lets her breathing steady and her heart rate settle. “Thank you,” she whispers genuinely. She isn’t sure how she could relay it to him if she does need something, but the way he looks at her tells her that he’ll know. 

 For the first time since she’s been here, her safety appears to be a priority to someone. Relief washes over her and she lets it, despite knowing that it will dissipate the moment he walks out the door.

 ~~~~

 “How’s it goin’ in here, my little worker bee?”

 She looks up from the computer she’s been staring at, met by Neal leaning against the door jamb with his arms crossed. The dinosaur she’s working on is hardly functioning, most sites she’s tried blocked and inaccessible and the speed at which it loads each page almost painful. After almost a week of working on the assignment they’ve given her, she’s found almost nothing.

 “Hi,” she mumbles, turning back to the screen. All they had given her was a name and a last known location, and she’s struggling to find more.

 “Doing alright?”

 “I can’t find much,” she says. 

 “You’ll find him; you’re smart. I wonder if that’s genetic,” he says with a laugh and a smirk in her direction. She isn’t sure what he means or how to respond, so she simply smiles somewhat awkwardly and moves on. She refuses to let herself wonder if this is another dig at her for being parentless. 

 “It just feels impossible. This guy, Graham… are you sure he even exists?” she jokes. 

 He laughs, but it’s forced and she doesn't detect a genuine smile. “Are you doubting Peter?” 

 Emma looks up at him, meeting his eyes with confusion colored in her own. “No,” she starts, although she isn’t sure if she’s being truthful in her answer. “It’s just…”

 Neal shoves away from the door and slinks closer to her, bending at his knees and squatting until his eyes meet her level. “Ems,” he starts, his hand landing on hers and applying what she thinks is meant to be a comforting amount of pressure. “Don’t start.” 

 “What…?” 

 He groans and leans away from her. “It's not a damn secret that you aren’t happy to be here. I need you to be better about that.” 

 She lets her jaw hang open for a bit longer than she means to, shock taking over her as he confirms what she’s been suspecting since the meeting she attended. “Neal,” she starts, “you’re the one who said you want to get out. You said we could leave after a few weeks.” 

 “And?” 

 “Uh… and… it’s been a week and you don’t seem like you’re… I mean… it seems like you're happy here.” 

 “So what?” 

 “What do you-- so what? You said we were leaving and now it’s like they're your family!” 

 Neal stands quickly, spinning from her in exasperation as he thrusts his hands into his hair. “You’re being so-- stop judging me! What do you even have to complain about?! They’re being nothing but nice to you. You have a home now, I feed you, I love you, we protect you… I don’t get what your damn problem is!” 

 “The knives, Neal!” she shouts, unable to hold back the emotional response to his nonsensical claims. “You threw knives at my head!” 

 There's a loud smack against the desk she sits at, and she’s brought back to the reality of her experience and out of the false sense of control that she let herself believe she had. She has to force herself to move on from the thought that she and Neal are able to have a conversation. When she looks down to where his hand met the surface, she sees his gun held beneath his palm. She pales. 

 “It’s time to move on,” he hisses quietly, his voice taking over the silence of the room. It’s another threat. Another convenient way to show her that he has power over her. That he can take everything away from her, even her life, in a second if she gives him a reason to. “You weren’t in danger, baby,” he says, his voice more soothing this time, drawing from her that feeling again. The feeling that she’s overreacting. “I had it under control, remember?” he asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

 She sighs heavily at the feeling of his lips tracing along her jaw until he reaches her neck. “You did?” she asks weakly. With his sudden change in demeanor, his obvious desire not to make her feel unsafe anymore, she feels something shift between them. 

 “Of course I did; don’t be stupid. You know I did.” 

 It feels good, she lets herself realize. As her eyes slip closed and a soft breath escapes her lips, she makes herself relax into his touch. With her sense of sight cut off, she feels herself giving in to his touch in favor of feeling some sense of relaxation after a week of hypervigilance. His rough stubble scratches at her skin, something she normally doesn’t like, but right now, she doesn’t think she minds too much. With her eyes shut, the rest of the world closed off from her mind, she thinks she could appreciate some stubble. 

 She feels the smooth leather of his sleeve under her fingertips and she likes it. Sure, she’s always thought the leather jackets were sexy, but here and now, something about him in it becomes more appealing. But when his hand creeps up her waist, his touch a bit too rough, too domineering, she flinches. 

 “Shh,” he hisses softly, attempting to soothe her. “It’s alright.” 

 At the sound of his voice, something snaps within her and she stiffens. It sounds wrong, she realizes. “Wait,” she murmurs as his hand creeps under her shirt. 

 He breathes out a disbelieving laugh. “Seriously?”

 “I just,” she starts, nervous as he pushes away. “We’re… I mean, we’re here.” She gestures around the room, hopeful that her discomfort at the thought of sleeping with him in this office where anyone could walk in is clear. 

 “Right. So when we get home, you’ll be more than willing?” he asks doubtfully, rolling his eyes. 

 “Neal,” she begs softly, unsure of where she went wrong. She’s unsure of how she could have messed this up when she was the one to express her own discomfort. “Please.” 

 “Please,” he mimics, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ll see you in a week.” 

 With that, confusing words exchanged between them, he’s out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. 

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#Watch the Sunlight fade #Sunlight ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan angst #cs ff #gang au #captain swan au #modern au #angst with a happy ending #tw: domestic violence

[page-doctor-bekker]

First Encounter - Lymphoblastic!au

(A/N) First fic for my lymphoblastic!au! Enjoy! This is really just setting up for the rest of the fic, so it's not the most interesting thing ever. It sets up the dynamic though!

-

-

"So here's my digs right now," Ava chuckled, showing the FaceTime camera the full span of the room, "This is my first time in the new Oncology ward, the room is nice, the view is shit, and everything..." She pointed and zoomed in at the door handle, then at an unstable chair, "Is suicide proof."

Connor laughed, "Well, you can't say it's for no reason!"

Ava's brief stint in the psych ward at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center was proof of that.

"Well, yeah, it's nice that they thought of that," She rolled her eyes, and sat back down on her bed, "The new mattresses are comfy."

"They're some fancy memory foam or something," Connor shrugged, sipping his coffee, "They splashed out on them. I guess a chief complaint of Oncology patients is lack of sleep."

"Maybe that would improve if they didn't shine flashlights in our faces all the time. I would like to die in peace."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"It's a joke, Connor," She said, weakly, "Laugh."

Connor gave a forced laugh, and Ava started to laugh herself. Connor's laugh grew harder, and more real.

"Hey, I've gotta get to work," Connor said, through his laughter, "I'll pop up and say hello when I get the chance."

Ava glanced out the window, "Alright," She said after awhile, "I'll see you then."

They hung up soon after, and Ava was alone with her thoughts, and her seemingly endless headache. She pulled off her wig, something she hadn't had the chance to do since she got to the hospital. She peeled each piece of wig tape off, wincing as it pulled at her skin. She never bothered wearing a wig in the hospital, even as a young teenager.

She collapsed into bed, pulling her weighted blanket over her and sighing.

Any time she was admitted she always brought her own blankets and pillows. They helped her feel at home. And every admission brought a significant risk of death, and if she was dying, she was going to die under the comfort of her own blankets.

Call it childish, but she brought her own stuffed animal too. A bear her mom bought her when she was first diagnosed.

She hugged the bear close to her chest, and curled around it. Her head pounded, and she felt a pang of... Something, an emotion, deep in her chest.

There was a knock on her door, and it was opened seconds later. Ava never understood why doctors knocked if they were just going to open the door anyways.

"Hey, you're going to have a roommate in the next few hours," A nurse that Ava recognized from a few admissions ago, spoke, "Please, please be nice. I obviously can't tell you anything, but just keep in mind what your first admission was like for you."

That stuck with Ava.

"Mama," Ava's voice shook. She widened the bathroom door, letting light spill into the room. Her now-bloody hospital gown hung off of her, and the light jolted her mom awake.

"Avie? What happened?"

"I don't know," Her voice heightened in fear, holding the blood-soaked tissue to her nose, "Can you call the doctor please."

Ava's mom put her glasses on and looked around, "Moeder van God, what happened to you?"

"My nose," Ava sniffled, spitting out blood from her mouth. There was blood everywhere - Her gown, her hands, her face, the floor, her bed...

"We need a doctor!" Ava's mom called out, pushing the call button on the wall and rushing to her daughter, "Quickly!"

A nurse came in a few minutes later, "Page Dr. Sal," The nurse yelled out into the hall and flicked the overhead light on, "It's okay sweetie, we're going to get you cleaned up."

Ava was sobbing at this point, shaking at the sight of her own blood, "Why isn't it stopping?"

Sarah was wheeled into the room at around lunch time, at the same time that the meal cart came around. The meal cart nurse set Ava's lunch down on her bed tray, and set Sarah's lunch on her side table.

Sarah looked pale, and thin. She had a big, ugly bruise on one of her arms, and a second smaller bruise on her opposite hand. They had her IV line on the thumb-side of her forearm, and a saline infusion running into it.

"Ava, your chemotherapy will be set up in..." The nurse bringing Sarah glanced at the clock, "Half an hour? Probably as soon as you're done eating. I'll come back in just a minute to give you your pre-medication, and then we'll start once those meds kick in."

Ava nodded, opening her food. Ah, breakfast for lunch. Two mildly soggy pieces of french toast with strawberries, a little cup of syrup, a cup of apple juice with a foil lid creatively labeled "Apple Juice", and about half a cup of scrambled eggs.

One thing she'll reluctantly compliment Gaffney on is the food. Reluctantly. Very reluctantly. For the most part this hospital frustrated her to no end and if she never came here again she would be thrilled, but the food was not terrible. Which was a glowing review, as far as Ava was concerned.

Ava snapped a picture and sent it to Connor's Snapchat. A tradition, to send him her hospital meals before eating and then send him a rating when she finished.

"Is the food here okay?"

Ava looked up at Sarah, who was now inspecting her food.

"Ah, it's not terrible, but hospital food is never great."

"I wouldn't know," She laughed weakly, "I've never even been to a hospital before," She confessed.

"Lucky you," Ava announced, "The french toast is easily the best out of all of the meals. I think I've tried almost all of them," She paused for a moment, poking her straw through the foil lid of her apple juice, "I've also tried the nearby restaurants that deliver here. Some of them throw in free delivery if you tell them you're in the oncology ward. Cancer kid perks," She joked, and Sarah sat in uncomfortable silence.

They ate quietly.

The nurse showed back up a few minutes later with several syringes in hand, "Ready Ava?"

Ava nodded, and fished her brand-new triple-lumen PICC line (the doctors really hooked her up with the good line) out of her blankets, "Ready as I'll ever be."

The nurse pushed Benadryl first, which made Ava's head feel heavy. She always felt like she had to consciously remember to breathe when she had IV Benadryl - It hit so much harder than oral Benadryl.

Zofran came next. She felt tired, but she really wouldn't be able to gauge the effects until her infusion started.

"We'll run the antibiotics through the port so they hit the bacteria directly, and we'll run your chemo and anything other than the antibiotics through your PICC," The nurse explained, "We want to eradicate this bug but we're concerned about the mass in your brain... We don't want to stop chemo and give it a chance to grow bigger."

Ava nodded, watching the nurse finish off her line, "When will my infusion start?"

The nurse looked at the clock, "Probably about one o' clock, about half an hour from now."

Ava nodded, and continued to eat after the nurse finished using her line.

She finished right before the nurse came back in to start her infusion, a clear bag with a bright yellow label, "CHEMOTHERAPY DRUGS", with a radioactivity symbol. Out of the corner of her eye, Ava saw Sarah pale at the scary label.

"Have fun," The nurse joked, and Ava rolled her eyes.

"Thanks, I'll try."

Sarah watched the medicine flow into Ava's line, and almost felt an urge to cry.

"Would you stop gawking at me?" Ava snapped.

"Sorry, sorry," Sarah squeaked, moving her eyes back to her phone.

"What's your diagnosis?" Ava pried, curious as ever.

"Leukemia."

Ava sighed, annoyed at the lack of specificity, "What kind?"

"I don't know, does it matter?"

Ava huffed, "Of course it matters. They're different."

"What are all the types? Maybe I'd recognize it when I hear it?"

"I can't list every single type of Leukemia," Ava rolled her eyes, "Is it acute or chronic?"

"What's the difference?"

"Nevermind," Ava muttered.

"I'm sorry that I'm not a doctor," Sarah replied, sarcastically, "I mean, what do you want me to do? I was diagnosed yesterday. I spent the night in the emergency room. Do you want me to become a doctor while I'm laying in a pool of my own blood?"

Ava felt a pang of guilt.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bekker, your daughter has Acute Myeloid Leukemia, a type of blood cancer."

"Sorry I just..." Ava's voice grew small, "I didn't know."

"Yeah, whatever. It's fine. I'm going to take a nap."

"Okay."

#lymphoblastic!au #ava bekker #sarah reese #reesker #ava bekker x sarah reese #chicago med #chicago med writing #usercj #crockettstiddies #purple-dahlias

[rosequartzstarswrites]

20 Questions for Writers

Thank you @cheesyficwriter for the tag!

How many works do you have on AO3?

27

What's your total AO3 word count?

351,699

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

As of now, I have only written for Harry Potter; however, in February I began several LOTR/Hobbit WIPs that I have not yet published. The first one is due out at the start of September though!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

In Another Universe: Hermione Granger is brilliant: she completed her PhD in Linguistics at 25, and is the youngest faculty member at the University. Ron Weasley, an unruly quantum physicist... well, he's getting there. But when Granger gets stacked with a project she hates and has to talk to other scholars at the University, their paths cross and become permanently intertwined in a way neither of them could've ever anticipated. (Slow Burn Multichap Muggle Uni AU) Rated T.

Rosebury Grounds: Lady Hermione Granger has been reared up in society, to marry well and be a good housewife, like any good Edwardian lady, but that's far from what she wants. When a handyman by the name of Ronald Weasley joins the house staff, utterly disarming her from the moment they first meet, he might just be the opportunity she needs to break loose and choose her own destiny.Lord Draco Malfoy has a secret— a secret he knows would cost him everything if it ever saw the light. But it's getting harder and harder to keep it from his father, because Draco keeps bumping into a pair of emerald eyes and a head of lush black hair, and he can't pretend his knees don't buckle at the sight. Which would be quite alright, if not for one small problem: it's not a woman they belong to.Two tales of forbidden love, set in Edwardian England. (Multichap Muggle AU) Rated M.

Something Growing: Hermione’s pregnant— and she’s freaking out. She’s always been good at everything, but she’s not sure that’ll hold for being a mother; however, when Ron gets home earlier than expected, she realizes she doesn’t need to be great at everything so long as she’s got him beside her. (Oneshot) Rated G.

Big in Japan: Harry Potter is a famous rockstar out on a world tour— but when one too many meet-and-greets threatens to drive him insane, he takes an escapade out into the streets of Tokyo, where he ends up at an expat bar with a captivating redhead that seems totally unaware of who he is, or why she should know him at all, for that matter. (Muggle AU oneshot) Rated E.

Teaspoon Vindication: After escaping Malfoy Manor, Ron comes to visit Hermione in her room at Shell Cottage, and does the one thing that may be the hardest for him— talking about his feelings. (Romione oneshot)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try my best, though I don’t always get to all of them! My reasoning is that if folks are kind enough to tell me how much they enjoyed my writing, the least I can do is thank them for their lovely words. 

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

The Last Farewell! It’s a Wolfstar oneshot, set in canon universe, where Remus comes to Sirius’s grave to ask for his blessing (and forgiveness) to marry Tonks. It was angst central from the start and I even wrote it while listening to an angsty song.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I generally write happy, fade-to-black endings, but if I had to choose I’d say Truth or Dare. This is a male!Hermione x Ron summer camp AU born of a game of spin-the-bottle/truth-or-dare that ends with them figuring out their feelings go beyond friendship. I say it is the happiest ending because I think the “boy figuring out he likes boys” scenario has been overdone in angst a bit too much, and the fact that the feelings are reciprocated and they decide to stay in touch would make me giddy if I was their age and in their shoes. Anyway, it’s just a sweet ending.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

Not at all— I actually don’t like crossovers at all, so I have never even entertained reading, let alone writing, one. (No hate at all to those with imaginations large and strong enough to conjure up awesome crossovers— I am in awe of you all, they’re just not for me!)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Never, luckily, since the Romione community is so lovely and supportive! But, though not outright hate, for a while I had an anonymous FFN reviewer who left reviews on every chapter of Rosebury Grounds saying that my title was a porn/sex act...? I was distraught and scoured Google to see if they really were right and this was some obscure euphemism I’d entirely missed, but turns out it wasn’t, and they had gotten confused with a vulgar but similar term. So I ignored those reviews but they kept coming and then eventually one time I found a 500 word very graphic description of the sex act in question in my reviews, so desperate was the reviewer (apparently) to get their (wrong) point across. Yikes. 

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! I’ve written a lot and of many kinds— explicit, implied, just foreplay, fade-to-black, referenced... I’ve written both M/F and M/M. 

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No— I didn’t even know that was something I should worry about!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I speak fluent Spanish, so I’m planning on translating In Another Universe and Rosebury Grounds myself once I’ve finished the latter. 

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, the most I’ve done is beta from the plot-building stage!

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Gahhhh don’t make me pick! Romione (HP) is first in my heart because I see so much of myself and what I want in it, but Samfro (LOTR) is, to me, the truest depiction of love in all of literature, ever. I will forever come back to it.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I hope to finish my Hogwarts Actually series that I started for Romionecom (hi, Discord friends!) inspired by Love Actually. I have it all planned out, translating all the relationships in the movie to HP pairings and friendships, and all I need to do is write— but I think I’ll come back to this periodically and unoften. Hopefully I’ll finish it!

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that I write good and witty dialogue. I’m a theatre person, so I think my dialogue sounds mostly natural when spoken. I also have a good sense of beginning and ending, so most of my works/chapters start and end with a memorable phrase of some sort. I also have excellent grammar and spelling, so except for a few occasional typos, that makes the job of proofing much easier!

What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I sometimes write sentences that are waaaay too long and convoluted. I use words that are too big sometimes and just take approachability from my writing. Fanfic has been excellent to practice correcting this, though!

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

As a bilingual writer myself— don’t write dialogue in other languages unless you speak it well or get it translated directly through someone who speaks it well. Though I appreciate the effort, I can always tell when something was put through Google Translate, and that kind of dialogue most often ends up lacking the context clues/colloquial familiarity of real language speakers, and ends up sounding stiff and forced. 

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I’m not proud of it, but I used to write MCR RPF back when I was 13 or so. It was a very brief stint and I have since deleted the works in their entirety, since my principles have evolved to the place where RPF to me seems disrespectful and invasive. Plus, it was on Wattpad.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Again, don’t make me pick please!! I truly have had a lot of fun with Rosebury and I think it is a testament to how much I love it that I was able to keep the idea on hold for a full six months before I started writing it. I love the Downton setting and the Edwardian dialogue is a lot of fun to me. But I also have a soft spot for the In Another Universe original oneshot I submitted to the RFF2020— that work awoke my love for Muggle AUs (which I like to think I’m most known for), inspired me to start work on my first multichap fic, and keeps me coming back to it anytime I have doubt in my ability to write swoonworthy scenes. It was the oneshot that started it all. 

Tagging: @accio-broom @be11atrixthestrange @folk-melody (and anyone else who would like to!)

#fanfiction #fanfic writer #rosequartzstars #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic author

[cotncandyboifics]

The Bidding of the Prince Twins: Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 2 ~

Pairings: (vague/qpr) Loceit, eventual Analoceit

Word count: 2,977

Story summary: Virgil finds himself being held hostage in an unknown location. His two suspected captors seem to care for him more than any strangers should, especially strangers who kidnapped him. But were they really the ones who kidnapped him? That aside, Virgil also can't shake the feeling that there's something familiar about them. He just can't pin-point what it is. As time passes, the layers of lies the three of them are caught in are gradually peeled away, one by one.

General CW: U!Roman, U!Remus, food, kidnapping, implied Stockholm Syndrome, moderate to severe amnesia, swearing, sexual innuendos, graphic descriptions of gore/violence/scarring, minor character d-aths, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, non-graphic descriptions of needles (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food mentioned, minor amnesia, kidnapping hostage, swearing, non-graphic description of anxiety attack, non-graphic description of a needle (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author Notes: <none>

...

Virgil winced, squinting sharply as a blinding white light was trained on his face. A giant light getting forced into someone's face would be jarring under any circumstances, but it was especially so considering he had previously been engulfed in an almost equally jarring darkness. He'd also just awoken from an unexpected stint of disorienting unconsciousness.

He felt a presence behind the light, and the edges of hair tufts caught bits of light from behind the cone of death that was focused on him. The figure was clearly tall, and though Virgil was seated, he could easily tell that if he weren't, this person would probably be a head taller than him at the very least. He tried to twist his wrists in the several zip-ties that had them bound together behind his back, as well as to a rod running up the center of the back of his chair. He clenched his jaw, looking down as the light sent a shock-wave of pain through his eyes.

"Virgil Black." A stern monotone voice came from where he'd seen the shiny bits of hair before. It's familiarity wasn't striking, but it had a relatively calming effect on Virgil's nerves, so his mind didn't feel the need to follow that train of thought.

"That's me, man," He tried, voice coming out slightly hoarse. "Mind explaining why the fuck you've got me tied up in this interrogation basement? Last I checked I'm not involved in any CIA bullshit," He sneered. Suddenly, he heard the sound of someone pushing a chair out and standing sounded somewhere to his right, behind the first figure. Someone else was there too. A step or two sounded as the second entity vaguely came toward Virgil. Great, two assholes to shake off.

"Very funny." A deeper voice came, much snarkier than the first. Virgil felt his spine tingle. This voice was oddly familiar as well, but he was still too out of sorts to try and figure out why.

"I apologize for the unsavory conditions, but it is imperative that our identities be kept classified for the time being. All we need is a minute amount of information, and we will be on our way." The first voice again. A very small clacking sound of plastic came from near the figure's face.

"Imperative to what?" Virgil hissed between clenched teeth, looking back up at the mysterious person. This time, he was able to pick out another feature; the light also caught what appeared to be the rim and lens of a pair of square prescription glasses. That explained the plastic clacking, he guessed. Virgil doubted they could be any other sort of glasses; it's possible that this person was a constantly-wearing-sunglasses type, but based on his brief time interacting with them, Virgil didn't really buy that. As well, some part of his intuition told him they were most certainly prescription, the same part that had noted the familiarity of both voices.

"That will also have to remain classified for now. But enough." The voice grew firm. Virgil tried to keep himself from swallowing audibly. "What are the most recent events that you remember, Virgil?"

He tried to think. "Well it's awful hard to recall anything with that giant light in my face, so can I have a minute to think? On top of that my memory is shit anyway because of my anxiety. Is that cool with you, thing 1 and thing 2?" A scoff came from Thing 2, seemingly off in the corner. Virgil hoped the half-hearted remark would keep them entertained as he tried twisting his ankles. They were tightly and securely duct taped to the legs of his chair, which was slowly cutting off his circulation. He felt his toes starting to grow cold and tingly. That meant he'd only been secured like this for a short amount of time, a couple minutes at most.

"By all means. Take your time." Still the first figure's voice, dripping with sincerity. Virgil detected what seemed to be a hint of remorse in their voice, as if they genuinely felt sorry, or at least uncomfortable with what they were doing. Virgil wondered why the second person was so evasive. He figured he'd try to provoke them into speaking again soon.

But for now, he had to think. What was the last thing he remembered? Before a throbbing headache, before the pitch black, before the sound of heavy rusty doors whining open and closed, and two sets of footsteps approaching him. He hadn't really registered them at the time; he'd been too disoriented, he guessed from some sort of anesthetic.

He tried to think back further. He pulled basic facts from his mind, hoping to jog his memory. He lived in New York, in a one-bedroom apartment with his roommate and best friend Patton. They'd fit two twin beds in their little bedroom. They were both Seniors at NYU. That started things off, at least. He spent a lingering moment recalling the cat they both took care of together. Her name was Natalie, and she was pitch black, each and every hair on her body a rich raven shade.

He knew Patton had planned to have a little get-together with some Psych major friends he had, and encouraged Virgil to bring some of his Techie buddies. They'd gone shopping for snacks last night.

He figured he'd start with that.

"Well, I remember Tuesday night for sure. Me and my roommate went grocery shopping. Getting snacks for a little get-together we were having. Not my idea, of course. I'm not a huge fan of parties, or-"

"We asked for your most recent memories, not your life story," drawled the second voice. Virgil smirked behind his bangs. "Will you get on with it already? Unless Tuesday night is really your most recent memory."

"As much as your- contributions - are appreciated, J, I am conducting this interrogation, and I'd prefer if you'd keep your snide comments to yourself for at least the first session," The first voice came again, hushed and sounding strained. Virgil clung to what little information he got from the comment. The second voice belonged to someone who could be identified as "J" apparently, and this was the first... session? Virgil had to set his mental notes aside for the time being though, since he had evidently not yet produced an adequate response. "My apologies, Virgil. My colleague is... rather, anxious, to... move things along. You may continue."

"No sweat. Sounds like J just needs a bit of a chill pill." Virgil smirked in the general direction he'd heard J's voice coming from. He was met with an almost disturbing silence. As expected. "Anyway. I remember shopping, and heading home, and... eventually sleeping. Ah, I guess I woke up a little late Wednesday morning, because I was rushing around and shit. My roommate looked kinda worried about it, but that's just how he is." Virgil paused for a moment. He wondered if these two mysterious figures knew about Patton and NYU and where he lived and everything, and considering he knew nothing about them or what they wanted from him, he wouldn't have been surprised. Regardless, he figured it would be best to keep things as anonymous as possible for the time being. "...Hmm. Then I think I rushed onto the bus. I think I caught it just before it was leaving. I got to, where I was going, and did what I was meaning to do, and then... I guess I headed home? I remember the thing I had to do, and finishing it, but... after that things get kinda foggy. I dunno." He paused again. A beat of silence. "Then again, I'll probably remember more in a few minutes. Especially if I'm not being literally slowly blinded." He finished, looking up at the figure behind the light with as large eyes as he could manage. The figure cleared their throat.

"Thank you Virgil. As well, there is no need for anonymity. We are fully aware of your roommate Patton, and the Economics lecture you nearly missed on Wednesday. However, your attempt at omission was... if nothing else, entertaining." Virgil scoffed under his breath. Even if his anxiety had predicted this just moments before, he was getting really freaked out now. It's never the same at all, imagining worst case scenarios and actually living them. The initial shock of this whole situation was wearing off, giving way to panic.

"At this time, in return all I can offer you is this. You are aware of the second man in your presence, I'm sure. For now you will know him as J, as you clearly caught on to rather quickly."

"He loves the witty ones," J's voice came this time directly from Virgil's left, and much closer than before. It took all of Virgil's self control not to flinch away. "So you'll entertain him well. He's L, by the way."

L cleared his throat. "Yes, thank you J. I shall be addressed as L. You will likely only see both of us at once. Perhaps on rare occasions we will each come in alone, but J and I are partnered, so that would likely do little more than impair our... performance."

"Partnered? Performance? What am I, a high school science project?" Virgil snickered bitterly. "My wrists are starting to hurt pretty fucking bad. This is pretty sketchy, L. I didn't fucking do anything wrong. Why am I here?" Virgil tried not to let the shrill breathiness overtake his voice too much, but the anxiety rising in his chest was far from merciful. He tried to calm himself internally, but that wasn't exactly working out.

"I can understand your frustrations," L replied, and the glint of his glasses shifted, the small plastic clacking sound coming again with it. Virgil realized it was just L adjusting his glasses, likely out of habit. "But, for your safety, I cannot give you a direct answer to any of those questions yet. Ah, except; no, you are not a high school science project." Virgil could practically taste the smirk on L's face. He wanted to spit at him. He wanted to tear himself out of the fucking zip ties and duct tape. He felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"Listen, I get that you two are having a jolly good time fucking me up, but I'm," Virgil struggled, each word becoming harder to force out of his trembling mouth, "I'm kinda freaking out here." He hated the way his voice cracked then.

Virgil could see the glint of L's glasses shifting again, the tall man turning to look at his sarcastic counterpart. A short nod, and with a small clicking sound, the light was shut off.

Somehow, the room seemed darker than it had before. The change was so disorienting that Virgil couldn't pinpoint just where the sounds of shuffling of feet around him were coming from or going. No screeching metal door sounds came though, so he knew J and L had to be in the room with him still. His breathing was becoming very labored, and it overwhelmed him as the only sound he could hear. God, how he hated anxiety attacks.

"Virgil." J's voice came from directly in front of him - J was likely crouched to be on Virgil's level - and it was uncharacteristically silky smooth. He flinched that time, but was able to keep himself from hissing. He was only sure it was J's because of its specific inflections; there was no way this could be L, and there was certainly no fourth person in the room (he hoped). "I understand you are very disoriented right now, but the last thing we want to do is cause you an anxiety attack. My sincerest apologies for triggering the beginning of one. That aside, I need you to focus on your breathing. Nothing but your breaths and the sound of my voice."

His voice felt like butter melting, gliding across a hot pan and leaving a silky trail. Or maybe like warm honey running down flushed skin. Virgil was captivated, and thank fuck, because if it weren't for Fuck Face #2 over here, he doubted he would have been able to get out of this one so easily. So he focused, focused hard on the labored breaths he was huffing.

"Now, I need you to try to slow down. Just a little bit. Slow down for me. Feel the air filling and retreating in your lungs. Let it stay a little longer. Then, let it leave in a gentle skip instead of a frantic sprint." God, if Virgil wasn't Fucking Freaking Out right now, he'd probably be trying to flirt with Mr. Butter-tongue, considering the shivers going up his spine weren't only thanks to his panic disorder.

Gradually, he managed to slow down. It wasn't a straight path, but eventually he got there. J continued cooing sweet nothings to him as he came down before any sort of climax. He thanked the darkness for hiding his horridly hot face from his captors. He heard a slight creasing of fabric.

"All better?" J's smile was practically visible with the way he almost sweetly sneered those words. His voice came from higher up, so Virgil knew he must've stood once again. He just scoffed in a half-assed cover up.

"Sure, Fuck Face Number two." He tried rocking himself side to side in his chair, but it seemed to be attached to the floor. He groaned.

J tsked a few times. "Is that any way to talk to someone who just kept you from what would surely have been a horridly exhausting anxiety attack? Honestly. You ought to be more grateful, Virgil." Virgil was beginning to passionately hate the way J talked; so sassy and drawly, as if he thought he was some serious hot stuff. Virgil wanted to smack him something awful.

He heard soft receding footsteps, feeling J's presence recoil.

"So how does this work? Is someone gonna have to whip out my dick for me when I have to pee?" Virgil prodded at the void around him.

"Very funny, Virgil. No, you will soon be... enlightened, regarding your temporary living situation, so to speak." L's voice came again, finally, from slightly to the right. It was a lot less variant in tone than J's, and Virgil greatly appreciated the constancy.

He couldn't respond soon enough; he felt something pierce his skin on his left outer thigh. Warm breath teasing at skin behind his left ear was the last thing he remembered. "Go to sleep, V. We'll see you again very soon."

"Night night, J," He whispered, before the lights really went out.

...

Logan sighed, shrugging off his navy pinstriped suit jacket as he shut the door behind him. He held it by the collar in one hand, turning to survey the disheveled mess that the observation room had become over such a short period of time.

Piles and piles of paper were stacked high on the wall-to-wall desk, and stacked higher on the floor. The interrogation light - just an industrial Flashlight with a cone of metal wrapped around it's end to amplify it - had been discarded lazily in one corner. Janus was seated at said desk, slouched over himself on a fold-out metal chair, resting his chin on his palm as he looked out through the false mirror at a peacefully sleeping Virgil.

His hat was resting on a corner of the back of his chair, along with his gold-encrusted swallowtail coat. He looked a bit of a mess. His hair was fraying and splaying everywhere. His eyes looked tired, even if Logan could only see his one blind eye from this angle. The jagged scars that crept up his neck and covered the side of his face seemed paler than usual.

"Are you okay, Janus?" Logan inquired as neutrally as he could manage, sitting beside his friend.

Janus merely side-eyed Logan, in his all-knowing way. "I think you and I both know the answer to that question."

"Look, I know this method is-- well, disconcerting," Logan's words rushed out of his mouth as if they were being chased, "but we do not have another choice right now. We will get this over with soon... we will find a way to get through this." Logan cleared his throat and fidgeted with his tie. Janus considered rolling his eyes and responding snidely, but he knew Logan wasn't taking kindly to these new... circumstances either.

"We will." He settled on an attempt to be reassuring. Janus had always been good at that, or at least he'd been told so. He only wished it worked on himself too, especially now. Logan offered a small smile.

A long silence overtook them. They both simply sat side by side and observed their unconscious hostage. He was sprawled rather inelegantly across a deep grey satin bed, one arm wrapped in a death grip around a plush pillow. His leg stuck out haphazardly over the edge of the bed, and his hair was in worse shape than Janus' - which was saying something, since Janus' hair was notoriously wavy and curly and constantly out of sorts, while Virgil's was just straight. His mouth was slacked open, but he didn't snore. His eyebags were somehow visible under his black eyeshadow.

Logan broke the silence first. This normally would have dismayed Janus, but again, these were... unusual circumstances. "Well, he seems figuratively out cold for the time being. Shall we seek out some sustenance?" Logan shrugged his suit jacket back on. Janus didn't move a muscle.

"I'm not hungry right now. You go ahead, I'll make sure he doesn't wake up and start tearing out his hair or something." Janus' somber tone stole his voice's usual sarcasm. Logan rested a hand on his shoulder with a great softness.

"I'll grab you a little something. Try not to stress yourself out too much." With that, Logan set a water bottle on the desk beside Janus' elbow and left in near silence.

Janus heard a faint receding clicking as Logan walked away down the hall.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #unsympathetic roman #unsympathetic remus #sympathetic janus #sympathetic virgil #sympathetic logan #ts roman #ts janus #ts remus #ts virgil #ts logan #roman sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #anxceit #ts anxceit #loceit #ts loceit #ts analogical #analogical #analoceit #ts analoceit #virgil x logan #virgil x janus #janus x logan #janus x virgil x logan

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I’m Always Curious Part Twenty Eight

Previous Part | Next Part |  Masterlist Notes: I hope everyone’s having a good week 💕

Sooo….. How are we doing…………….

Warnings: ....Less angst than last week? I think? I mean by my gauge anyway y’all might disagree

Also cursing and mentions of canon-typical violence Summary: “I don’t want to sound insensitive or glib, Kat, but this better be fucking good.” 

Can we talk? I had taken my time in answering Una’s message.

Maybe it was a little petty of me, but it was the first time she’d reached out to me in months, and I was tired. Despite the fact that the armistice between the Federation and the Klingons was in effect ahead of the Peace Accord in Paris, my work had yet to be completed. I’d been selected and summoned back to the Academy by Starfleet High Command to work closely with a number of other Comms specialists and the Klingons to draw up a treaty that would be beneficial to both sides, and would help to ensure that the armistice held. Are you going to hang up again? Was my answer, finally. Her response stunned me - but then, Una typically found a way to catch me off-guard. It would be difficult for me to hang up on you in person. 

-- I had this inexplicable urge to hug her, if only to ensure that we were both there, both real and solid, but I knew that Una was not a hugger. Instead I nodded to her as she slid into the booth seat across from mine. I’d taken up brief residence in one of the vacated mess hall spaces in the Academy while I’d waited for her. “How much time have you got?” She asked. “About an hour. It’s technically lunch break.” “We can get something to eat.” “I’m not hungry.” “...How are you?” She asked after a moment. “I’m not sure you deserve that answer.” I didn’t mean to snap, but— seeing Una in person, seemingly unchanged after what I had gone through - after Somonia, after the war, and after she had been so harsh to me, I was not in a mood to be warm and cuddly. Una nodded a little, unflinching. “I do deserve that,” She conceded, “I was...Processing. I should not have said that to you, it was a blatant disregard for your feelings. I’m sorry.” “...Well,” I bristled a little, “Thank you for that.” I glanced out of the window for a moment, gathering myself before asking, “So, why are you on Earth?” “There was a hitch in installing the new Holographic Communications System, it had to be brought in to space dock.” “Crew’s in one piece?” “Yes.” “Are you the only one down here?” “...Yes.” I lowered my gaze to my hands again. “Why did you want to meet with me?” I asked. Una stood and walked around to my side of the booth, sliding in to sit beside me. I didn’t turn to look at her, and she didn’t push for me to. “When...Spock told me that you were alive,” She said softly, “When he brought the timeline to me, the evidence… There was some little part of me that almost hoped he’d made it all up-- Not because I wanted you to be gone,” She hurried to explain, “But because I… Could not fathom the fact that we had left you behind. And seeing your medical file, reading the briefing that you gave Command-- the hell that you went through. If we’d turned back when Cornwell contacted us--” “You couldn’t have known--” “That shouldn’t have stopped us,” Una insisted, “We should’ve gone back, should’ve...Made sure.” I glanced over at Una to find her staring ahead of us, shoulders and jaw tight. “It was hard, watching the crew learn that you were gone. You were missed, you were needed, but seeing the news spread that you were alive, that you’d been drafted into service for the war so soon after you were found— And that we were constantly being told to stay out of the war on top of it … I was angry. I focused that anger in the wrong place when we spoke,” She admitted, turning to meet my eye, “I have regretted that every single day.” I felt tears prickling at my eyes and I lowered my eyes to the gold fabric of her uniform, clenching my jaw. “I’m not apologizing for not telling you,” I shook my head, "I’m sure Cornwell was monitoring my communications, and I don’t know what the repercussions would’ve been-- for either party.” “Considering the Admiral’s tendency to run a tight ship, as it were, I understand. I think you did the right thing...Commander,” Una tipped her head forward as she addressed me by my new rank. I rolled my eyes a little, a small smile creeping onto my face. It had been a battlefield promotion for the sake of my ability to command a small vessel during the Battle of Xisad, one of the last battles fought during the war. Cornwell had promoted me herself. “You know I had to take the Bridge Officer’s test when I got back?” I told Una, slouching down in my seat a little bit, “Just to make it official. They told me that if I didn’t, my rank would revert. I almost let it go.” “Why didn’t you?” “Durling.” “Eli Durling?” I nodded, humming, “Bastard goaded me, said I wouldn’t pass first try, so it wasn’t worth bothering.”

Una smiled. “Stubborn as stone,” She shook her head. “Don’t start,” I began to laugh, and it soon overtook the two of us. As it settled, I gathered my courage to ask the question that had been sitting on the tip of my tongue since Una had told me she was the only one on Earth. “Where is he?” “He’s on Starbase five at the moment. Visiting someone.” “Is he alright?” “Yes.” “And he...He knows?” Una frowned, nodding a little. “Of course he knows,” She confirmed, “You haven’t spoken to him?” “No. He hasn’t reached out and I...I didn’t, I wasn’t sure,” I admitted. I suddenly felt jittery-- sharp, and sensitive. It was like I’d taken a gulp of the worst kind of Koutovian tea. “So--” I cleared my throat, “When do you leave?” “In a few hours, most likely. Starfleet’s set us another mission. Do you know where you’ll be stationed next?” “No. I don’t know how long we’ll be working on the treaty and Command doesn’t want to set me to another post prematurely.” “I understand.” I could see the disappointment in Una’s eyes, but rather than say anything, she just tipped her chin up a little bit. “Do you think you’ll leave Communications for Helm now?” She prodded, and I snorted. We both knew the answer to that. 

-- Tilly and I nearly knocked one another over with the force of our embrace. I squeezed her as tight as I could, grinning from ear to ear, wholly uncaring that the transporter room crew and the Cornwell were nearby. “I have to check on where you’re staying, but um-- I’ll come and find you and show you and-- excuse me, Admiral,” Tilly ducked around Cornwell before hurting out of the transporter bay.

The Admiral arched a brow at the sight of me before gesturing for me to follow her. I fell into step beside her, glancing around. The Discovery hadn’t changed since my last stint on it, of course, but it was surreal to be back on the ship that I thought had been destroyed. But as nice as it was to be on a starship with no threat of war, I was not in the best mood. Treaty completed, peace talks aside, Peace Accord signed, I had been afforded leave. Shortly after that leave had been granted, I'd received a message from Admiral Cornwell. 

“I don’t want to sound insensitive or glib, Kat, but this better be fucking good.” “You’re not in uniform.” “No. I’m not, because technically, officially, I am not here,” I reminded Cornwell as I cast her a sidelong glance, “Were those not your exact words?” “They were.” “Well, then if I am still technically, officially on leave,” I gestured to my civvies, “Then why would I be in uniform?” “You’re in a fine mood.” “Do I need to remind you what happened the last time you pulled me off of leave for an assignment?” I retorted. “The Discovery has been tasked with chasing down signals that have appeared in varying points throughout the galaxy.” I frowned. “I thought that the Enterprise had been tasked with that directive.” “It had, but it experienced catastrophic system-wide failures. The Discovery took over the mission.” “And I’m here because…?” “There is a colony on the way to the next point that’s in need of monitoring. Starfleet is not interfering, but we’re keeping an eye on them. We need you--” “A Tag and Run?” I asked, stunned, “You’ve really pulled me off of leave for a Tag and Run? Why not pull Durling?” “I have. He’ll be here in a few hours to oversee the op. I’ve business to attend to elsewhere.” “Of course you do.” “Commander, I may’ve tolerated a certain amount of this disposition in the midst of the war, but please trust that I have no such patience for it right now.” I fought the urge to snap back and roll my eyes. “I thought that Tag and Runs were only sanctioned outside of the war in the most extreme cases.” “Trust when I tell you that this is extreme, and sanctioned by Starfleet.” Cornwell stopped at the turbolift, turning to face me. “There’s something else that I ought to make you aware of.” “Oh, there’s more?” “I need you to keep your head.” I looked over her face, at the slight grimace on her lips, and that sharp, jittery feeling bubbled back up in my stomach. “...Kat, what--” “Admiral, a question.” I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but turn at the sound of his voice-- my body was moving before I even fully registered it, half turned from Cornwell, half turned toward Pike. It almost didn’t register, at first, that it really was him. I hadn’t seen him anywhere but my mind’s eye, my dreams, for the longest time. He looked… Well. Almost just as I remembered. There were maybe a few more streaks of grey around his temples, but I didn’t get a good enough look. My brain finally caught up with my body, took in his bewildered expression - the narrowed eyes, his parted lips, the scrunch of his brow - and I turned my head away, eyes set on the turbolift panel. “...You couldn’t have mentioned this before I beamed aboard?” I asked Cornwell quietly. “I wasn’t sure if another ship would be in range. False hope would’ve been cruel,” Cornwell's voice was no louder than mine, her eyes set on the Captain.  I turned my head a little as the turbolift doors opened and Tilly stepped out. “Oh! Wow, just who I was looking for--” She glanced between the three of us, taking in the tense silence, “I...Am sorry to interrupt, but, um, your lodgings are ready, Commander.” “Thank you,” I mumbled. “Commander?” Pike’s repetition was hushed, almost awed. I turned my head toward him a little, unable to meet his eye. He’d missed so much-- and what the hell had I missed? “If you’ll excuse me,” I answered tightly, stepping onto the turbolift with Tilly. “See if you can find a uniform,” Cornwell watched me, “And try to give Durling less lip.” “No guarantees,” I retorted before the doors slid shut. -- 

“That seemed… Tense. Like cage-fight-with-a-Mugato-tense,” Tilly commented over the hum of the turbolift. She was right - it felt it, too. I couldn’t get that look Pike had given me out of my mind. It was buzzing through me; it was a stone in my stomach; it was behind my eyelids when I blinked. “Speaking from experience?” I tried to tease as we stepped off. “Ah-ha,” Tilly shook her head, “No.” I gave her a small shrug, following her down the hall, “Pike used to be Captain of the Enterprise.” “Right.” “And I haven’t seen him since…” “Since he thought you were dead,” It dawned on Tilly, “Oh… Oh that’s worse than a Mugato.” “It’s like two Mugatos.” “Well, here we go,” She stepped aside to let me in, “You’re gonna have a roomie, but it won’t be me.” “Who’s it going to be?” I asked as I stepped inside. “Well, it’ll be me, and if you don’t like that, you can sleep in the frickin’ cargo hold.” I froze again at the sound of that dry, almost raspy voice. “Jett?” I asked, stunned. “Is that a yes or a no to the cargo hold?” She added, standing from her bed, “I mean you don’t actually have a choice, but it only seems polite to ask.” I flexed my hands before I asked, “Can I-- Are you-- Can I hug you?” “Once,” Jett conceded, “But make it a quick one.” I didn’t approach her too fast, didn’t hug her too tightly, just patted her shoulder twice and took a step back. “What, um…” I asked lightly, throat growing tight, “What happened?” “It’s a long story-- And you haven’t even heard it yet,” Jett frowned, watching me step back to what would be my temporary bed and lower myself down onto it, putting my head in my hands. “Hey,” Tilly sat down beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder and rubbing it, “What is it?” I couldn’t answer. I just shook my head a little as I took deep breaths, trying to slow my pounding heart, trying to steady my breathing. “Are you mouthing ‘pie’? I should get her a snack?” I heard Jett ask Tilly-- which made me laugh through the few tears that were leaking from my eyes. “Pike,” I mumbled, “She’s mouthing Pike.” I could understand why the two were trying to be careful with me. I surely seemed panicked by what should’ve been amazing news. And it was amazing. I was overjoyed, relieved that Jett was alright, but-- between the mission, Tilly, Pike, and Jett, I was overwhelmed. And Pike had looked right at me -- Right at me. He’d seemed so startled, like I was a figure that had stepped out of a dream-- or a nightmare: unknowable, unplaceable, but strangely familiar and to be dissected. Maybe that was one small consolation. While Cornwell hadn’t warned me, she'd been remiss in warning him, too.

I tipped my chin up from my hands, looking between Jett and Tilly and giving them a weak, watery smile. “I won’t lie, though, pie sounds amazing right now.” "Sure! We can do that,” Tilly said quickly, more than happy to put a baked band-aid over this hurt, “Jett, you coming?” Reno shrugged, “I could eat.”

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#I'm Always Curious #captain pike x reader #Captain Pike x You #Captain Pike/Reader #Captain Pike/You #Captain Pike fic #Captain Pike Imagine #christopher pike x reader #christopher pike/reader #Christopher Pike/You #Christopher Pike x You #Christopher Pike fic #Christopher Pike Imagine

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Summer Nights: Part 1

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x Overweight/Plus size Female identifying Reader

Series: Summer Nights

Warning: Fred’s death, the series will mention issues such as guilt, grief, etc.

Writer:  @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ (formerly imaginesofeveryfandom)​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Summary/Request: You’d always had brief glimpses of Charlie Weasley throughout your life, but despite your closeness with the rest of the Weasley family and your friendship with the Weasley Twins, you had never officially met. Until Charlie Weasley decided to take the summer off from his work as a Dragon Keeper at the Romanian Reserve and come back home, to the Burrow, that is. 

Notes: Gif is my own, using my art of Charlie Weasley which you can find on my art blog @artisticwarnug here. If you use please make sure you credit me and my art blog properly, that the ownership is clear as it is my own art and I would hate for it to be unclear that I made it <3 x 

Reader was a Hufflepuff in school but it probably won’t be mentioned that much!

Prologue 

After the war you’d found it harder and harder to spend long periods of time with your family. Not only were you working and living within a magical world that they were not a part of, but they didn’t know of the war or understand the true trauma of the experience for you and most of the wizarding community. You’d lost one of your best friends...Fred wasn’t coming back and your family had no idea that any of it even occurred. You’d seen your own friend alive one minute, and dead the next. Nothing could quite compare to the feeling, like choking on your own breath. Like drowning.

As a result you not only lived with the Weasley’s, Molly protesting whenever you tried to pay her money (you had Bill help you put some into their vault anyway, feeling the need to give them something for their kindness), but spent most of your holidays there as well, rarely returning home for Christmas, Easter, or the summer time. As much as you loved your family you struggled to be around them and they didn’t understand you either. 

In your grief you’d found that helping others made it easier, or at least helped you forget the feelings of guilt and grief that sat so heavy in your stomach. Helping George get back on his feet, helping Lee get his enthusiasm back, helping Mrs Weasley with dinner and around the house, helping everyone just seemed to make it easier to handle. That and working relatively long hours as a healer at St. Mungo’s often took your mind off of the war and what had been lost. You often chose to hide your feelings from the war behind Hufflepuff cheer. But, sometimes you wished someone would notice. You didn’t blame them for not, everyone had their own problems, your remaining best friends most of all. Grief and running a business took much attention. 

You woke up that Saturday morning fully aware that you should get out of bed, but that you didn’t want to. It wasn’t a particularly important Saturday, no plans had been made, no work to be done, no visitors expected. Yet, it would turn out to be a Saturday that completely changed your whole life. 

Since moving into the Burrow, 2 years prior, you had been staying in Fred and George’s old room, seeing as George lived above the Flat. You had spent the first few weeks simply making sure the room was safe, the twins had left many pranks around their room, but also all sorts of potion ingredients. You’d packed everything up and taken it to the Flat...It had been hard, going through all their childhood things with George. Hard for you, but harder for George. Years on and George was doing better, but you knew he still didn’t feel complete, like something was missing. But he slept better, stopped having nightmares, and generally seemed to have some of his old cheer back. It helped that Angelina was there for him as well. He was moving on and growing happier each day. 

The few things that you had been given by the Weasley family included clothes. At first it had been odd, being given some of Bill or Charlie or George’s old clothes to wear to bed or around the house. But, that had gone away quite quickly considering the oversized quidditch jerseys, jumpers, and shirts, were incredibly comfortable. Bill’s fit most snug, being a plump woman, with wide hips and a stomach, and Bill being one of the lankier of the Weasley’s. George and Charlie’s clothes fit much larger on you, however, seeing as they were some of the broader, stockier Weasley’s. It still surprised you that Charlie had been a seeker and not a beater.

The night previous you’d gone to bed in Charlie’s old quidditch jersey and a pair of pajama trousers with little snitches on, that had previously belonged to George. The trousers were much too long on you, covering your feet, and the Jersey while it clung to your hips was loose in every other aspect. It was a pairing that you enjoyed simply for its comfort. It was not something the Weasley’s even blinked at or questioned, after all you’d been gifted the clothes and had been wearing them for the last few years. So you hadn’t really thought twice, as you stumbled out of bed, feet hitting the powder stained floor, about going to breakfast as you were. 

You yawned loudly, covering your mouth with your hand, as you walked into the kitchen, not really taking in which Weasley’s were at the table, being much too tired to do so. 

“Morning” You sighed out as you grabbed a plate and collected your breakfast, Mrs Weasley having already placed dishes of eggs, toast, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, and sausages out on the dining table. 

“Good morning, dear!” Mrs Weasley called back, followed by a variety of familiar Weasley voices, and one that you did not recognise, that gave you pause. 

You wouldn’t say you were mortified to look up from your breakfast and realise that Charlie Weasley, the very attractive Charlie Weasley, was sitting in front of you, with an amused half smile and a raised eyebrow. But, you certainly were mildly embarrassed, simply because you were not exactly dressed for introductions and you were almost certain that you had a million knots in your hair. 

“Uh, hello...” You wave awkwardly, a little stinted, with an embarrassed smile. 

“Hello, love. I see mum finally gave away my jersey” You’re certain that Charlie is trying not to laugh, although you don’t feel hurt by this fact. Much like the rest of the Weasley’s Charlie comes across as laughing with you rather than at you. 

“I can...you can have it back, I...”

“It’s alright, looks better on you than it does on me. Might be a tad small for me now actually.” You relax at his easy going manner about it. You were sure it would be a little weird for the second oldest Weasley to finally meet someone while said someone was wearing his clothes. But, apparently not. 

“Y/N, right? I don’t think we’ve properly met?”

It had been two years since you’d last seen Charlie Weasley, that had been at Fred’s funeral and you’d not really taken much notice of him at the time. You had been, naturally, more concerned with and consumed by your own grief and the proceedings before you. 

You’d forgotten how handsome Charlie was. With broad shoulders and deep red hair, pulled back into a ponytail. Charlie was by far the most freckled of the Weasley’s with dense freckles across his face and sharp jaw, down his neck, and over his arms. The last time you’d seen Charlie he’d been dressed in a full suit, covered head to toe, the time before that he’d been a teenager, now you realised that he had a tattoo that you had never previously seen. It was a beautiful tattoo, a welsh green on his neck that twisted its head and puffed smoke from its nostrils. 

“We haven’t, just crossed paths, here and there. Surprising, really.”

“Considering you are not only friends with my brothers...” he pauses just a moment, before correcting himself, “brother, and have been living here, yeah, just a little surprising. Hufflepuff, right?”

“Yeah, managed to make Head Girl in the end, much to...much to Fred and George’s delight.” It was still odd wanting to mention them both, but realising that one of them wasn’t around anymore. But, it was true, Fred and George had teased you for weeks, over the fact that you, best friend to the biggest pranksters at Hogwarts, managed to make Head Girl. “Are you still working at the reserve in Romania?” 

“Yeah, thought I'd be head keeper by now...but...”

“Bad boss?” 

“He’s not bad, but we don’t see eye to eye when it comes to the dragons.” You raise an eyebrow, curious for him to continue. You’d never really been especially good at Care of Magical Creatures but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fascinating to you. “He wants to commercialise the reserve, make it a place people can come visit rather than a place for us to keep the dragons from the Muggles. Daft really, dragons’ll sooner eat a bunch of tourists than sit pretty for them.” 

“The reserves aren’t supposed to be tourist attractions though...why would...surely that’s dangerous and also not exactly fair on the dragons?”

“Oh, it’s definitely dangerous, it takes multiple keepers to restrain a dragon and the dragons aren’t exactly in cages on the reserve like a muggle zoo. Luckily he hasn’t gone through with the idea...yet.” He frowns in a way that tells you he suspects it’ll happen anyway and his tone suggests irritation with the situation. You’re sure for someone who loves dragons so much and wants them to be kept away from muggles and left to their own devices, it must be terribly frustrating. 

There’s a beat of silence as you continue eating. You feel a little awkward, although that certainly isn’t Charlie’s fault. It’s made worse by the sensation of Mrs Weasley’s eyes on the two of you. You were more than aware that Mrs Weasley’s one goal in life since the war had been to marry off each of her children, you included in that. Ginny had since been dating Harry, Ron was with Hermione, George was with Angelina, Bill was already married and Percy...you weren’t sure about Percy.  But, that left Charlie as the oldest single Weasley child, and yourself...still not dating much to Molly’s dismay. She was constantly asking you if you’d met anyone lately. 

“You’re a healer right?”

“At St. Mungo’s, on the Dai Llewellyn Ward for Serious Bites, although I'm often dragged away if someone's had a few too many hexes that have interacted poorly.”

“Ever had any dragon bites?”

“Once, a Peruvian Vipertooth, lady was in a right state for a while. Came out the other end though.” 

“Nasty bites, aggressive little buggers. You’d probably have a field day on the reserve the amount of bites and burns we have each day.” At that Charlie lifted his own arms to show an array of burn scars and old bite marks. Some had healed well, others less so.

You pointed at one, “Looks like you avoided seeing the healer.” You raise an eyebrow and make the face you learnt from Madam Pomphrey, the one that explicitly says you disapprove of avoiding proper medical care. You’d spent a great deal of time with Poppy not just because of the twins but also because she’d helped you prepare for your healer training. 

He lets out a slightly nervous laugh and looks away from you, red rushing up his neck in traditional Weasley fashion at being caught, “Didn’t want to bother anyone, it wasn’t serious. No need to worry, love.” You grab his arm and pull it closer to get a closer look. Trying to ignore the fact he had very strong forearms and incredibly warm skin.

Working on the Serious Bites Ward meant that you had a good eye for bite marks and what might have made them. Some dragons had very distinct bite marks. A Peruvian Viper Tooth had a different set of teeth to a Hungarian Horntail for instance. 

“Ukranian Ironbelly, right? Young one, by the looks of it.” 

“Just a baby really, got a bit over excited is all. Hurt like a bludger to the head though.”

“You should always see the reserve healer, you know? You could get a serious infection from a bite like this.” You let go of his arm and lean back in your chair, arms crossed, fixing him with the same look again. 

“I would if our healer was as nice as you. He’s got the personality of a fire crab who’s had its tail yanked.” You try not to take the compliment as more than it is. 

“Grumpy and explosive?” You knew a few healers like that. They didn’t exactly have the best bedside manner and it made many a witch or wizard reluctant to seek treatment. 

“Exactly. Augustus Pye still working on the ward? He tried to give dad stitches that time...” 

“Yes...” You sigh, it wasn’t that Augustus was a horrible person to work with so to speak, but you’d had a few awkward encounters with him when you’d first started working on the ward. 

“You don’t sound happy about that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the man...he just...it's a very small ward you see and he may have...there were a few times where...”

“He asked her out on a date and she said no and embarrassed the poor bastard.” George’s voice comes from behind you with a laugh, before he takes the seat besides you. You’d been flattered, really you had, but, Augustus wasn’t someone you were particularly attracted to. Not physically, nor intellectually nor in regard to his personality. He was nice...but that was just it. You hadn’t expected to go into work and be asked on a date, either, it had been all a bit of a shock really...you hadn’t gotten a great deal of romantic attention in school. Being a big girl meant that boys were more inclined to tease you than date you. Not that you were upset about that, teenage boys were the worst. 

“Thank you, George. I obviously couldn’t disclose that myself.” You roll your eyes

“I still don’t know how you did it, you’re far too nice to say no to anyone.”

“I...” You look at all the curious eyes watching you, feeling a wave of genuine embarrassment as you realise you’re going to have to tell them the truth...that you’d really struggled to say no and had instead, “told him I was already seeing someone, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings!” You protest as George lets out a loud laugh next to you.

“It’s not funny, George! I was very flattered but...I didn’t want to tell him he was just...meh! How do you let someone down nicely? At least this way he thinks it's because i’m already taken not because I find him lacklustre!” 

“Just say it. You don’t find him attractive, you don’t want him to ravage you in the store room, it’s not that hard. You do know you’re an adult and not thirteen, right?” 

You let out an unhappy moan as you let your face fall into your hands at George’s teasing. 

“George Weasley!” You hear Molly scold him about talking about private matters such as ‘ravaging’ and teasing you so much, before turning her attention to you. “It’s okay not to like someone, dear, you don’t have to lie to save someone else’s feelings. Although, it would have been lovely for you to go on a date...it’s been a while, dear.” 

“Mum.” Charlie gave his mother a look which you knew too well, many of the Weasley children had given their mother that exact same look whenever she tried to encourage them to find a date. It was a relief to have someone else tell her to leave well enough alone. You loved Mrs Weasley dearly, but you’d rather date someone you wanted to rather than date someone simply to please her. 

“Oh, alright. Charlie, I need you and Ron to degnome the garden, you too George since you’re here. Y/N, dear, could you water the vegetables in the garden today?”

“Of course, Molly.” You’d long since learnt not to call her Mrs Weasley to her face. Molly hated any of her ‘adopted children’ calling her Mrs Weasley, Harry and Hermione still hadn’t quite gotten out of the habit yet though. Much to Molly’s dismay. 

After much more teasing from George and a shy goodbye to Charlie, you rushed up the stairs to get ready for the day. A day that might very well end with Charlie Weasley being the death of you, death by embarrassment that is.

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