#I can’t find all these fics right now thankfully (this is an old draft post) but we can partially blame embers I’m sure

[bluewithpurplepolkadots]

Like a part of me is baffled by those weird ass pro-imperialism /the fire nation is superior fanfics because…not only because it goes against the grain of what the show was about?

But the Fire Nation is stupid sometimes. So very stupid. Only those who have some sort of respect for the spirits tend to have any kind of deep wisdom or foresight at all.

They not only try to kill the moon when they seem to be making a lot of their initial advances using their damn NAVY** but the FN isn’t even responsible it seems for a lot of their more recent technological advantages in the war. It’s possible they got said boats up and running themselves at the start of the war…but I have to wonder if they did anything themselves in the hundred years since. Like at all. Besides kidnapping people and forcing them into slavery.

They threatened an Earth Kingdom man who offered his services and honestly? The fact they did that kind of makes it seem like they’re incapable as it stands of that kind of creativity even if it’s geared towards murder. The FN isn’t your Randian anti-religion pro-scepticism utopia you weirdos.

I mean it gets especially stupid given that this is a world where spirits and divine powers are VERY OBVIOUSLY REAL but even if we somehow discounted that the fN doesn’t seem to have any kind of scientific genius to name. As @greatcolorfan I believe said on a reblog of a related post I made a long while back perhaps it’s the whole blind obedience thing has screwed them over.

**That post where Azula was actually ignorant for going against the tides/got lucky it didn’t blow up in her face starts to make a lot of sense too.

[billiewena]

for the 100k fic celebration, here a portion of the “what if 10x05 had a sastiel agenda?” AKA lil shit sam/jealous dean destiel fic I first shared a while back! been having a lot of fun basically rewriting and expanding on the entire musical episode with new songs (and lots of cute kristen & siobhan moments because OF COURSE they’re still a couple.) it was really encouraging to see the positive response to it back then and it's been taking forever because of work/other writing but I’m so excited to have this one be the first full-length fics I ever post.

It starts with costumed teenagers locked in a tight embrace with absolutely no room for Jesus.

“What are they doing?”

Marie glances over her shoulder for only a brief second.

“Kids these days call it hugging,” she says slowly. Geez, it would’ve been less insulting for her to just outright say Wow, you’re old.

Except it’s not just any of the show’s stars hugging over there. One of them is the “Dean” who’d been mid-rehearsal when they arrived and looked more like Bieber than him with the blonde wig. And the other? Well, he would recognize that Columbo coat anywhere.

“Is that in the show?” he asks, pointing their way.

Marie quickly shakes her head at the accusation. “Oh, no. Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in a real life.”

He nods and lower his hand. Got it. That’s all it was. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about—

“No, my play explores the nature of Sastiel.”

“The — wait, what?” he says, confused at once.

“Sastiel?” Marie pauses, giving him a second to figure it out. He doesn’t. “You know, the relationship between Sam and Castiel?”

Dean blinks.

“Sam and…C-Cas?”

“I know, I know. Edlund’s series never finished. I’m lucky I got these drafts. Ugh, it’s Midnight Sun all over again. But the love story is all in the subtext,” she says with confidence. “Can you believe there are people who still think Destiel is endgame? After everything that happened after the angels fell? After Gadreel? Please.”

He silently sounds out the word. Des-tiel? Wait…

“Ever since Cas came back from the dead and took on Sam’s pain, I knew. I just knew. Every one of their arcs had been parallel to each other’s from their fall from grace to the trials. And now with Dean gone, all they have…is each other.”

Marie sighs. “Besides, you can’t spell subtext without S-E-X.”

He coughs and nearly chokes on an asteroid-sized lump in his throat.

“I…uh. Yeah, th-that’s not…you know, I think I’ve seen enough,” Dean says with a forced smile. “Thank you for your, ah, time. I’ll, uh, we’ll follow up if we have questions about the missing persons case. I—alright.”

And with that he purses his lips, turns on his heel and walks away — nearly tripping over one of the stage chords as he does. Why are there are so many of them anyways? This is just some all-girls school production, not the goddamn West End.

He finds Sam in his natural nerd habitat (the tech booth) sifting through all the bins of A/V supplies.

“Yeah, not to interrupt the blast from the past here but it’s time for us to go,” he says, patting the door.

His brother shoots him an annoyed look but packs up and follows him out all the same. Not that Dean bothers to wait for him; no, he makes a beeline for the car as soon as he leaves the booth.

“Hey, what’s with the rush?” Sam calls after him as he runs to catch up with him at the school entrance.

“No rush,” he says shortly. “Just wanted to see what you found out before you got too lost in the nerd sauce over there.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know he’s on the receiving end of a Classic Sam Bitchface right now and continues to stomp his way through the parking lot.

“Well, no EMF, no hex bags. None of their props are remotely hinky. Talked to Maeve and all those extras in the auditorium.” Sam finally catches up and walks side-by-side with him now. “You have any more luck?”

“Nah. Ms. Chandler's office is just a pile of empty bottles and regret. She's probably just face down in a bar somewhere. Or a ditch. I did get to hear all about the director’s, ah, creative vision though,” Dean says, teeth gritted. “Apparently we go into space, I become a woman, and there’s even ninjas and robots!”

“Robots. Huh. Well, that’d definitely be a new one.”

“There’s no robots in Supernatural—”

“I-I know that,” Sam says in exasperation. “I just mean it’s, y’know, innovative. And Dean we’ve fought weirder. Remember the teddy bear? The fairies? The ballet shoes?”

“Well, you just wait until you hear about what she in store for you, Lover Boy,” he says.

And that makes Sam do an instant double-take.

“Uh, Lover Boy?”

“Yeah, your number one fan back there —” he says, gesturing back towards the school, “— was telling me all about the play’s, uh, love story between you and Cas. You got something you’ve been meaning to tell me or what?”

“The love story? Wait, what do you mean me and Cas?”

Dean scoffs, already in utter disbelief of the words he was about to say. “Like you and Cas, together. Together together? Romance of the ages the way she made it sound. Apparently it’s all in her play!”

To his surprise though, Sam just… laughs. “Well, I mean hey, that’s an improvement from the ones who wrote about me and you.”

“You got that right,” he agrees with a shudder. Meeting one Becky the Stalker was bad enough. Knowing she wasn’t alone and that she had an audience made it even worse. “She even had a portmanteau for you, dude. Like you’re some celebrities in a grocery store tabloid. Sass-tiel.”

“Sass-tiel?” He seems to seriously consider it but shrugs. “I don’t know. What about… Samstiel? CasSam? Cam? Mmm, maybe not that…”

Dean groans. “Really? That’s your issue with this?”

“Of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says. He stays pensive for a few more seconds until chuckling again to himself this time, as if he’s the only one in on a private joke. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cas is great but…”

“Not your type?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says. No, it’s definitely more than that and he’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding his amused expression.

Dean turns and stares him down. “What?”

“I dunno,” he says, his smirk fully visible now. “I just think it’s funny they’re pairing me up with Cas when the one with the ‘profound bond’ with him is right there.”

“Oh, haha. You’re hilarious,” Dean retorts at once.

“Hey man, I’m not the one who stayed in Purgatory for a year to find him.”

His glare takes on a murderous edge.

“Okay. You know what? You’re going to do that thing where you just shut the hell up! Forever!”

Sam holds up his hands in either what’s either a show of innocence or surrender.

“Alright, alright. Well, other than the Charlie Kaufman of it all I got nothing.”

“So…what?” Dean says. “This-this all... This whole musical thing, everything, it's... it's all a coincidence? There is no case?”

“Unless you're seeing something I'm not, no, Dean. There's no case here,” he says sincerely this time.

“Come on. This has classic Trickster vibes all over it.” He almost wants to turn around and start yelling, Come on out Gabriel you bastard!

“Trickster’s dead, man. And he wasn’t just a trickster, he was an archangel. And they’re all gone too.”

“Could be a lower-rank angel?” Dean tries. “I mean, Zachariah pulled off an entire apocalypse world. And that place where we were both corporate drones. Before you know it, this’ll get all Buffy and it’ll be me and you singin’ and dancin’—“

“Dean…I think it’s just fans. Look, as long as they’re not putting another love spell on one of us I couldn’t really care less what they’re doing,” Sam says with some bitterness, clearly not looking back at that particular memory with any fondness. “Just writing some songs? I mean, it’s innocent enough.”

“Oh yeah, so innocent,” he scoffs. “They’re singing about our dead parents, your demon blood bender, the apocalypse, all of it! This is just…it’s make-believe for them! But it’s our lives!”

Sam runs a tired hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t get it either man. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the books’ entertainment value while Chuck was describing my sex life in vivid detail—“

“Don’t remind me,” he says, holding up a hand in disgust.  

“—but I dunno. There’s obviously something about it they connected to, right? Something they related to, something that moved them, inspired them? And I guess…I mean, what’s wrong with that?”

There is so, so much wrong with that.

“I don’t know what story they’re reading and what Sam and Dean they’re ‘connecting’ to here. But it sure as hell ain’t us. I mean…they even made me blonde, dude.”

“It’s a high school play, what can you expect?” Sam laughs. “It was probably the closest wig they could find at Party City.”

Dean ignores him, muttering aloud as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“The hair…the singing…the robots… the love story…”

“You really were bothered by that, weren’t you?” Sam gives his brother a curious look.

“SUPERNATURAL ISN’T A ROMANCE!” Dean snaps. “Look, these girls obviously don’t know what they’re talking about—“

“I dunno, Dean,” Sam said in a clearly taunting voice now. “Maybe you’re just jealous of what me and Cas have.”

He flushes. “W-what? I-I’m not—“

“We could give you two a name too, y’know? So you don’t feel left out? What about…Dee-stiel? CasDean?”

And he refuses to entertain this conversation any longer.

“Shut your face! Get in the car!”

Thankfully Sam notices the shift in tone and obliges at once.

Dean, meanwhile, takes a moment outside the car to glance around — almost as if checking to see if anyone overheard that comment. Not that it mattered. Who could overhear? No one even knew they were THE Sam and THE Dean. Who cared? He certainly didn’t care. He didn’t care at all...

(to be continued)

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Graduation surprise; BoRhap cast x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey ya’ll well I promised this fic when I posted the Queen prom fic so here it is. Now I know it’s not as long as the last one is but I felt like this didn’t need to be super long. Also as another special little fact for ya’ll I was gonna make this a Queen fic as well but then I decided to change it to a BoRhap CAST fic since I hadn’t done one of just them in awhile. 

So to all seniors whether HS or college, the class of 2020 CONGRATULATIONS I know it’s not what you hoped it would be but still try to find celebration in this pandemic, you all achieved probably the greatest milestones in your life. So stay safe, stay healthy, stay sane, and be happy :) Lot’s of love from me my darlings!

Taglist:

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@queensdivas​

@platawnic​

@queendeakyy​

@geek-and-proud​

@kairosfreddie​

_______________________________________________________________

Goddamn this year! Just when we think the new decade would be worth our wild, now we’ve got all this shit going on! First there was the threat of WW3, then the next month we’re dealing with wildfires in Australia, and finally to top it off why not add a global pandemic?!

The Coronavirus has literally been all over the news for months, and the fact that our government knew about it since late last year and didn’t warn us about it!? Then when they told us to be on lockdown, everyone starts hording toilet paper, hand sanitizer, and food that no one can buy said items for weeks on end.

But of course my main problem is the fact that I, along with so many other kids and adults around the world can’t participate in their own graduation ceremony.  As a college student, I was just longing to finally participate in my final graduation ceremony ever.  This was supposed to be my final chapter in school life and now because of this damn virus, that’s gone.

I mean yeah my diploma will be coming in the mail but I wanted my family to all be there to see me reach the end of my school life before I finally begin a new chapter.  Plus my cousin’s friends said that they would come and see me and I’ve missed seeing those guys, I hadn’t seen them all since the Bohemian Rhapsody premiere.

I sat there in my old room of my house (cause since the University closed down back in March, all students had to leave the college campus and go home so that way we could reduce the spread of the virus. So I ended up moving back in with my parents) just finishing up my final paper for class.

That’s when my Zoom video chat blew up with my cousin’s profile pic.  I grinned and clicked on the answer button and soon enough my cousin’s face took over my screen.

“Hey poppet.”

“Hey Gwil, how you holding up?” he let out a sigh.

“As best as I can. Though I should be asking you that, you are the one really dealing with this whole Coronavirus adjustment than I am. How’d you do on your classes?”

“For those that have said online classes are easier, they’re dirty rotten liars and completely incompetent.” He softly chuckled. “But thankfully I finished my last exam paper and submitted it just now.”

“Your dad look over it for you? Cause I know you’re a terrible editor.”

“Oi not all the time. Just when I’m lazy.” He hummed as he raised his brow at me. “But yes I did have dad review it for me. Cause before we got to submit the rough draft and my professor said I needed more analysis to my quotes on why I quoted that specific source. God I don’t know why I took that class to begin with?”

“Because you’re a criminology nut and you have been since you turned 16. God and I thought my horror movie tastes were bad.”

“Hey it’s good to be aware of shit like that!”

“Language missy!”

“Okay Cap.” I teased.  He gave me his stern look which made me laugh as I fell to my side on the bed. “Oh by the way I saw that little dating app video you did.”

“And what did you think?”

“I liked it. Kinda makes me wish an app like that did exist in real life.”

“You not just pulling my leg on this?”

“No. Honest and swear to god you had me moved by your performance. Well next to you being Brian May of course.” He grinned. “I swear I still can’t get over when I first saw you in the full hair and makeup, I literally almost had a freakin panic attack.”

“And the fact that Brian was also there to witness that.”

“Oh god don’t even go there!” I groaned as I hid my face in embarrassment.

“So—now that you’re all done with school, what’s next for you?”

“Well any plans I had are put on hold till this whole crisis goes away. And I really thought 2020 was gonna be my year. This sucks!”

“I know poppet, I know. But believe me that it’s not just you whose affected by this. Everyone in the whole world is suffering exactly the same way you are.” I sighed solemnly.

“I know. I mean I should be feeling for you and the guys right now, I mean all of you are out of work till further notice. And all the restaurants that I love going to. Did you know that the little ice cream parlor you and I used to go to when we were kids shut down?”

“No!”

“Yeah, the owner couldn’t keep up the payments because hardly anyone was ordering from them anymore, even with online delivery. So she closed it down.”

“Damn, that sucks. I really loved going to that place with you. That was always our special little time together without the grownups around.” I nodded remembering all the fun times we had together in that little shop.

It was then someone suddenly popped into our conversation.  The extra person now on my screen was none other than Joe Mazzello.

“Hey Gwil, mini-Lee!”

“Hello Joe.” Answered Gwil.

“Hey Joe been a long time.”

“How you two holding up?” he asked us.

“As best as we can, how about you? I’ve seen those Youtube videos you’ve been doing on your page.” Gwil said.

“You know those were jokes, especially that last one. I just wanted to get a laugh out of everyone, or have them hate me.”

“No one could hate you Joey.” I said with a smile.

“Aww thanks mini-Lee. How’s classes been?” I let out a groan as I once again flopped on my bed which made Joe laugh.

“I am just thankful that this is all over. At first I thought online classes would be easy but one of my professors was technology challenged. Another one would sometimes forget to do a lesson, and then of course blackboard could barely operate long enough for me to submit an assignment which caused some of them to be late.”

“Well like you said it’s over now.” Joe assured me.

“Oh hey I saw that Jurassic Park livestream you did.”

“Oh did you? How come I didn’t see you submit a question or just say hello? I’ve seen your Youtube page so I know your username by heart.”

“Cause I may or may not have also been working on a project. But chose the livestream over the project.”

“Nice going Joe, you’ve turned my cousin into a procrastinator.” Gwil complained.

“Hey at least she has Jurassic Park unlike you Gwilym Lee! Serious shame on you for not owning it! This is why mini-Lee is the coolest out of the two of you.” I snarked out a mock laugh as I stuck my tongue out.

“Ganging up against me okay I see how it is you two.”

“Oh come now cousin dear, we’re just messing around.”

“Messing around? If we’re messing with Gwil then I want a part of it.” Soon another picture came up and there lying on his side was Ben Hardy.

“Benjamin!” Joe screamed joyously.

“Hi Ben.” I sung out.

“Hey (y/n).” he waved at me with a wink. “Now going back to teasing Gwilym.”

“You guys are officially gonna be blocked right after this.” My cousin groaned.  We all laughed when I told him.

“Again cousin, we’re teasing you. So Ben, what brings you here?”

“What can’t I pop in and say hello?” I giggled.

“I see nothing wrong with it. Oh hey get this; I finally got around to watching 6 Underground.”

“And what did you think of it?”

“The first 10 minutes were insane! And truthfully I never really understood Michael Bay films, but this one—definitely my favorite. I loved it Ben, really.”

“Well thank you (n/n). Thank you.”

“Never did I think I needed to see both you and Ryan Reynolds on screen together….”

“Whoa okay easy there (n/n)!” Joe interrupted me.

“Oi you get your mind out of the gutters! And you say it’s the fans that make what you say to the extreme.” I scowled him.

“Trust me, I’ve known him for over 10 years and he still doesn’t grow up.” Another voice stated and soon two more familiar faces popped up on screen, stuck in quarantine together in LA were Rami and Lucy. And then a split second later another face came on the screen, it was none other than Alan Leech.

“Hey, Rami, Lu-lu, Alan!” I cheered.

“Hey (y/n)!” the three of them said as they waved.

“God I feel like I’m getting spoiled, got the entire BoRhap family together for the first time in like—forever.”

“It’s crazy.” Alan said.

“Definitely.” Agreed Rami.

“Maybe when this whole thing blows over we should all get together some time in New York.” Offered Joe.

“I’m down with it.” Ben said.

“Me too.” Lucy agreed with a nod.

“Yeah, (n/n), Ben and I could fly out together.” Said Gwil.

“I’m down with that. Now that I’m done with school, I can do what I want now.”

“So guys now that we’re all here shall we begin?” Lucy said.

“Begin what? Gwil what’s going on?” I asked.

“Well (n/n), when this whole quarantine shutdown and school cancellations started affecting the class of 2020 we all felt bad that you couldn’t graduate the way you hoped you would.” Gwil said before Joe continued.

“So Gwil called all of us up via the Whatsapp chat, as well as our daily zoom calls. To gather us all together on your ‘last day’ of college.”

“To celebrate your own Virtual college graduation party!” Rami cheered.  At that point everyone either threw confetti, blew on graduation blowers, or holding up signs that said CONGRATS 2020 GRADUATE!!!

I covered my mouth with my hands speechless and tried to hold back the tears.

“Ohh you guys.”

“Since you couldn’t have a college graduation party, we figure we’d bring the party to you. See not even this pandemic can stop us from celebrating our Mini-Lee’s ultimate milestone.” Ben said as he set down his congrats sign.

“And also expect some gifts within the next few weeks, depending on how the mailing services do with overseas gifts.” Alan said.

“Aww thanks you guys, you didn’t have to.”

“We know, but we wanted to. Let us spoil you even through this pandemic.” Said Joe.

“Thanks guys, this—really means a lot to me.” I wiped a hidden tear that strayed down the corner of my eye.  They all awed at me that’s when Gwil lifted up a small graduation cake.

“I know, I know this’ll be ridiculous but just humor me will yah?” I smiled and nodded.  He lit up the 2020 candles and held it just high enough for me to see the top part of the candles.

“CONGRATS (Y/N) LEE! CLASS OF 2020!!!” everyone proclaimed at once which made me smile and I blew out towards the screen.  Gwil then blew out the candles for me as everyone else cheered and clapped.

“Thanks so much you guys. Really, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“We’re happy to do it (y/n). If it makes your day a little bit brighter in these dark times.” Rami said.

“It did Rami, it really did.”

“Well hope we can make this even better cause I’ve also got a part 2 to this little surprise. But in order for that to happen, everyone else has got to go otherwise you won’t really be able to see it as clearly.” Gwil said.

“Aww man.” I whined.

“No worries mini-Lee, your cousin added you to our BoRhap Whatsapp chat and I’ll send you a link to our zoom channel if you ever wanna chat with us again.” Joe said with a wink.

“Thanks Joe. And thanks everyone take care and stay safe.” They all waved and bid me goodbye with waves or blowing kisses at me and one by one they signed off till it was once again just Gwil and I.

All I could see across his bearded face was that cheeky grin he does whenever he’s trying to hide something.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Just the fact that I’ll be the best cousin once you see part 2 of your special surprise.”

“What did you do?”

“If I told you it won’t be a surprise now would it? Now let’s see, god I hope they get it.” He muttered the last part to himself. It took a few minutes till finally another screen popped up and standing there in his room was Adam Lambert.  I fangirled in my seat and covered my mouth trying to contain my squeals.

“Hey girlfriend!” he greeted with a wave.

“Adam oh my god!”

“How’s it going?”

“It’s been going. Finally submitted my last paper. So I’m officially done with school forever.”

“Yaas Queen!” he snapped. “So how’s it feel to be a college graduate?”

“Well it’d be better if we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic.”

“Understandable, but hey you’ve worked hard for this so be proud of yourself no matter what’s going on in the world right now.” I nodded with a shrug. “And to celebrate your graduation, your cousin whipped up another little surprise for you.”

“Oh my god Gwil you didn’t!” I gasped.  He merely raised a brow at me cheekily as he bit his lip back from a smile.

“Hey guys you there?!” Adam called out and soon enough two more screens came on and the picture revealed to be both Brian May and Roger Taylor.  Brian sitting on his couch while Roger looked to be in his basement with his drumkit.

At this point, I had lost my shit.  I was fangirling to the max at this rate but tried to calm down.

“Hi (y/n), congratulations of graduating.” Brian greeted me.

“Major achievement there love. Congrats.” Roger added.

“Oh my god…..Gwil this is—how……”

“I knew you’d love it (n/n). Plus I knew this would cheer you up after our last conversation we had last week. You really needed some cheering up.”

“So guys are we ready to do this?” asked Adam.

“I’m ready to go if you both are.” Said Brian as he took his Red Special and set it on his lap and Roger twirled his drumstick.

“(Y/n), this is for you love. Hopefully when this whole mess is over, you can finally go out there and reach your dream job. Till then we hope you enjoy this.” Roger said.

It was then both Roger and Brian began playing the tune for ‘we are the champions’ but as Adam began singing the song, it turns out that they were actually singing their new song, ‘You are the champions’ dedicated to the first responders worldwide.

But now they were playing it in my honor as a college graduate.  As they continued to play the song, I allowed the tears to flow down my face as I laced my hand over my heart.

God—never did I think that through this pandemic would I be happy.  From having to never see any of my friends I made in college again, to not having my whole family come to the house to celebrate, or going out to party with some of my friends.  But this—right here and now, my cousin made it all up to me all the way from London.

At this point, I knew that I was officially the luckiest person in the world.  All thanks to my favorite cousin, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[philipronans]

okay so this is actually part of something that’s gonna be way longer (hi post canon florist!mickey fic how are you?), but 1) it was too cute not to post + 2) it works by itself too so why not post it + 3) it’s the first draft so it’s gonna change at least a little bit anyway

Mickey lets himself in through the front door,  careful of the grocery bag hanging from one wrist. He kicks his boots off as he takes his jacket off and hangs it up. The house is quiet, which isn’t all that strange these days, but no matter how much time passes it will never feel right. This place is meant to host the collective hurricane that is the Gallagher family.

He moves through the empty living room and into the equally empty kitchen – there’s an open textbook on the table that tells him Liam is around somewhere. After flicking the light on, he dumps the bag of groceries on the counter and immediately starts putting things away. There’s a box of Liam’s favourite cereal in his hand when he hears the giggling. His lips are twitching as he pulls open the cupboard and shoves the box in the general direction of a shelf.

The giggling gets louder the longer he stands there and when he eventually turns around, Franny’s head is poking around the edge of the fridge. She grins when he raises his eyebrows at her.

“Uncle Mickey!” She cries, charging towards him and wrapping her skinny arms around his shins.

He carefully puts the box of off brand Cheerios back on the counter and lets a hand brush over her hair. The ponytail that Ian had managed to tame it into this morning is barely hanging on.

“What’re you doing, kiddo?”

She releases his legs and holds her arms up. Mickey makes a show of sighing dramatically before lifting her up and settling her on his hip. Her hair tickles his cheek as she settles her head on his shoulder.

“Hiding.”

“Oh, yeah?” He jostles her a little, and then goes back to putting the last of the groceries away. “What’re you hiding from?”

“You!”

“Great job.” He says, quirking an eyebrow at the top of her head. She laughs again and pats at his shoulder. “Where’s Liam?”

Franny lifts her head and points at the ceiling.

“You down here by yourself?”

He shifts her around so he can sit her on the counter. She grumbles a little but quickly settles down when he opens a pack of cookies and hands her one. They’re triple chocolate – he’d learnt how to get into her good graces early.

“Hey, Orphan Annie, I asked you a question.”

Franny takes a huge bite out of the cookie and chews noisily. She doesn’t answer him until she’s managed to get cookie crumbs everywhere. The look she gives him is all Debbie, telling him he’s an idiot for even asking.

“You’re here!”

He sighs, but his mouth twitches. “Not exactly what I meant.”

His line of questioning is cut short when Liam appears at the bottom of the stairs. The orange t-shirt is damp around his neck, so Mickey doesn’t do anything but nod at him.

“Hey.” Liam says, eyeing up the pack of cookies. He must decide better of it, though, because he slips back into his chair at the table and pulls the textbook closer.

“You okay with spaghetti for dinner?”

Franny claps, forgetting the cookie still clasped in her hand and sending crumbs flying all over the place. She giggles at the unimpressed look Mickey gives her and squeals out something that kinda sounds like “Sketti!”

“I get a choice?” Liam asks, not looking up from his textbook.

Mickey shakes his head. “Not really. Just wanna know how bitchy you’re gonna be about it.”

Liam glances up at that and offers him a level look. He cracks a smile when Mickey snorts. “It’s fine with me.”

Mickey rummages around in the cupboard for a few minutes to find the saucepan he wants. Once he’s found it, he stands back up to find that Franny has helped herself to a second cookie. He raises his eyebrows at her, and she at least has the decency to look a little ashamed.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, kid.”

Franny beams at him.

Ian comes in through the backdoor almost twenty minutes later. He pauses long enough to shrug his jacket off and put it away, and then he’s placing an obnoxious kiss to the top of Liam’s head just to hear him groan.

Mickey glances up from where he’s stirring the pot of pasta sauce and smiles. “Hey.”

Franny, who had been relegated to a dining chair, darts for Ian. She laughs when Ian catches her and easily lifts her into the air. She smacks a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.” He says, carrying her over to Mickey so he can press a kiss of his own to Mickey’s temple. “Hey yourself.”

Mickey stops stirring long enough to study his husband’s face. They aren’t dark enough to be worried about yet, but there are circles under his eyes and his cheeks are looking a little gaunt. He lifts a hand to stroke a thumb over Ian’s cheekbone.

“Have a good day?”

Ian catches his wrist and brushes his lips over Mickey’s palm, before stepping back. He pretends to drop Franny, smiling when she shrieks and wraps her arms tight around his neck.

“No one puked on me, so that’s something.”

“If that’s all it takes, I’ve had a coupla good months.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be as lucky as you.” Ian smiles and stoops to put Franny back on the ground. Thankfully, she doesn’t make a fuss about and instead just goes back to her seat at the table. “You need any help?”

“Yeah, actually, grab me some bowls? This is almost done.”

Ian does as he’s told, and Mickey goes about dishing up. He grabs two bowls and carries them over to the table, Ian not far behind him.

“Eat it slowly.” He aims at Franny, knowing she won’t. She nods solemnly but digs in the moment the bowl touches the tablecloth. He turns to Liam. “Better move that book of yours, Einstein, unless you want meatball juice all over those fancy pages of yours.”

Liam snaps the book shut and carefully places it on the empty chair next to him. He murmurs his thanks when Mickey places a bowls in front of him and picks up his fork.

Mickey sinks into his own chair and immediately hooks his foot around Ian’s ankle.

“Went to see Larry today. About findin’ me a new job.” He says, after he’s finished chewing a mouthful of noodles.

Ian stops twirling his fork and glances up at him. “How did that go?”

“Well, he’s definitely still Larry.”

“You doubted?”

“No, but I hoped. One of these days, Gallagher, my dreams of him being replaced by an alien will come true.”

Ian snorts. “So, what’d he say?”

“About an alien kickin’ him outta the job? Not a lot.” He grins at the unimpressed look Ian gives him. “Nah, he said he’d look into it, but he’s not promising anything.”

Liam sets his empty bowl aside. “May I be excused?”

Mickey shrugs and Ian murmurs an agreement. Liam pushes away from the table, snagging his book on the way.

“You still got homework?” Ian asks.

“A little. Math.”

“Let me know if you need help, man.” Mickey says, kicking Ian in the shin when he notices the sappy smile he’s trying to hide.

“Thanks.”

Mickey nods and turns back to his food. He huffs when Ian doesn’t stop smiling at him.

“Shut the fuck up.”

 Later, when the dishes have been put away, Liam’s finished his homework, and Franny’s been tucked into bed, Mickey all but faceplants onto the mattress. It’s barely eleven o’clock but he is beat. He yawns audibly.

“Are we getting old?” He asks, flipping over so he can watch Ian get undressed.

Ian, now only in his underwear, climbs onto the mattress. He waits until they’re both comfortable and his hand is buried in Mickey’s hair before answering. “Nah, we just got responsibilities and shit now.”

“Fuck, I think that might actually be worse.” Ian gives his hair a quick tug. Mickey presses a smile into the hollow of his throat. “Don’t start shit you’re too tired to finish, Gallagher.”

As if to prove his point, Ian yawns. He’s quiet for several minutes.

“You think Larry’s actually gonna find anything?”

Mickey groans.

“Fuck sake, what have I told you about bringing our P.Os into bed?”

[themagiciansreccenter]

Author Spotlight: @eidetictelekinetic

Every week we interview a writer from The Magicians fandom. If you would like to be interviewed or you want to nominate a writer, get in touch via our ask box.

First things first, tell us a little about yourself.

I'm Kate, 28 years old, from the Philadelphia area, bookworm and history nerd.

How long have you been writing for?

Fourteen years

What inspired you to start writing for The Magicians?

I wanted to write a reunion fic.

Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write? What it is about them that makes them your favourite?

I write Queliot so I love writing both Eliot and Quentin, but I find Quentin's POV to be a lot more accessible for me, so I prefer that. I also surprised myself with how much I liked Alice's POV when I tried it.

Do you have a preference for a particular season/point in time to write about?

So far I've only written s4 and s1, I'm more comfortable with s4 but s1 has been a relief because they're less unhappy.

Are you working on anything right now? Care to give us an idea about it?

Yes! I'm working on more daemon AU fic, one of which is an s1 AU where the timeshare spell from 4.11 triggered a divergence post 1.07. The other is a story of Quentin fighting his way out of the Underworld and out into the multiverse as he tries to get home. Also a completely unrelated fic where Brian/Nigel was a thing - it's mostly about how that affects Quentin's mindset and decisions as the events of s4 unfold.

How long is your “to do list”?

Long. Very long. I have multiple projects going in multiple fandoms, and then Magicians came along and I'm even busier.

What is your favourite fic that you’ve written for The Magicians? Why?

So far, I'm Still A Far Cry From Gone is probably my favorite.

Many writers have a fic that they are passionate about that doesn’t get the reception from the fandom that they hoped for. Do you have a fic you would like more people to read and appreciate?

Not in this fandom!

What is your writing process like? Do you have any traditions or superstitions that you like to stick to when you’re writing?

I don't have much of a process, really. I let my ideas brew while I'm doing other things, and write whenever I can, basically. For my larger AUs I do have outlines,  but they're usually pretty bare-bones. And I have a few friends I tend to throw my drafts at for their opinions.

Do you write while the seasons are airing or do you prefer to wait for hiatus? How does the ongoing development of the canon influence and inspire your writing process?

I do both; when writing during the season, I pretty much just pick a point where I'm cutting myself off, because otherwise I'd have to wait out the whole season to finish.

What has been the most challenging fic for you to write?

Do I Even Dare (To Speak Out Your Name) because it was the first one. Debut fics are always the hardest, I think.

Are there any themes or tropes that you like particularly like to explore in your writing?

Daemon AU and canon divergent fics are my brand, but I also like to explore the effects of soulmate AUs.

Are there any writers that inspire your work? Fanfiction or otherwise?

Too many to list but the top one is definitely Tamora Pierce. In fanfic, Blind_Author and trinitas/lit_luminary wrote the best daemon AUs I've ever read, the kind I tend to measure my own works in my favorite trope against. There's plenty more including several in the Magicians fandom but I can't remember all the names, I think of the stories first.

What are you currently reading? Fanfiction or otherwise?

Currently I'm on a reread of Stephanie Dray's Cleopatra Selene trilogy, I check the Magicians page on AO3 regularly, and I'm waiting for the Silverflint BB fics over in Black Sails fandom to finish going up so I can devour those.

What is the most valuable piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given?

This isn't writing advice so much as a trick I've learned - never throw away the things you cut. Save those bits elsewhere, you might repurpose them later.

Are there any words or phrases you worry about over using in your work?

Not really, though I think I probably have too many characters tilting their heads.

What was the first fanfic that you wrote? Do you still have access to it?

Stargate SG1 fic with an OC who was a witch, and no, no trace of that silly piece exists anywhere anymore. Thankfully.

Rapidfire Round!

Self-edit or Beta?

Self-edit

Comments or Kudos/Reblogs or Likes?

Comments

Smut, Fluff or Angst?

Angst with a Happy Ending

Quick & Dirty or Slow Burn?

Depends on my mood

Favourite Season?

Season Three

Favourite Episode?

All That Hard Glossy Armor

Favourite Book?

Haven’t read them.

Want to be interviewed for our author spotlight? Get in touch here.

[so-shiny-so-chrome]

Witness: B_Kilroy

 ThCreator name (AO3): B_Kilroy

Creator name (Tumblr): brian-kilroy

Link to creator works: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Kilroy/pseuds/B_Kilroy/works?fandom_id=51060

Q: Why the Mad Max Fandom?

A: I was just instantly drawn to it after seeing Mad Max: Fury Road for the first time.  The movie was incredible, from the imagery to the people, from the story we see to the story we have to piece together ourselves.  I was no stranger to fanfiction since I had written and read it in the past, so when I thought "I need to get more of this," I knew where to go.  Being more internet savvy than I was several years ago meant that I was able to find more places and people who engaged in the fandom, which in turn allowed me to become more engaged, and do more for this fandom than the ones I had been a part of before.

Q: What do you think are some defining aspects of your work? Do you have a style? Recurrent themes?Which of your works was the most fun to create? The most difficult? Which is your most popular? Most successful? Your favourite overall?

A: I think even though I didn't write much for it, "Through The Looking Glass" was the most fun to create, because the goal was to take the entirety of Mad Max and reframe it with Furiosa and Max being able to contact each other through their dreams.  It's fun to take that and view events through a different lens, or use one character to advise the other and shove the story in different directions.  After a while, these changes would have stacked up, but it would have amounted to a serious overhaul of character and plot through four movies.  

The most difficult fic was "Ear to the Ground," namely because it was a gift so I couldn't bounce the idea back off of its source to talk about it.  At a certain point I pretty much stalled, and that combined with the time constraints of the exchange were some serious stressors.  I've stalled many times in many fics, but this was the most difficult one to conquer.   

 My most popular, successful, and favorite fic to work on is by and large "Runaway."  I can't truly speak for why, but I believe its relative longevity and the AU concept of Fury Road essentially never happening was what earned some attention.

Q: How do you like your wasteland? Gritty? Hopeful? Campy? Soft? Why?

A: I like a good mix of gritty and hopeful, though it does depend on what sort of fic I'm writing.  I think we've all seen enough to know that you can't have good without the bad, but we also know that sometimes it's very possible to basically go about your business as long as you're smart about it.  Sometimes, the characters don't have that option.  I enjoy having a diverse world so characters can have a multitude of experiences.

Q: Walk us through your creative process from idea to finished product. What's your prefered environment for creating? How do you get through rough patches?

A: My creative process really varies.  Often, I just start writing.  Only after I have some stuff written down do the gears really start turning about the future.  As I work, sometimes I'll put down specific lines I want to use, or scenes I want to see, or a general rough outline.  The best thing I've done in this regard is have an outline set for "Runaway" and use the first posting of "Royce" as a first draft.  The best way to create is to have something set out in front of you, so you know where Point B is, and it's just a matter of getting there. 

 When I wrote in college, it was pretty much wherever I could snag a seat.  A handful of my old fics started in the very back of a State Government lecture hall.  As time went on, I wrote in the student center or in a dorm lobby or just somewhere I could sit down that felt vaguely productive.  At home, it's in my dark room with some music on. 

 Rough patches often signal a break in writing.  I'll typically go to another fic to work on, but recently having trouble means walking away completely.  For me, the only way to get through rough patches means sitting down and writing.  It can be a word, a sentence, or a paragraph, and any amount is fine.  All that matters is that I get the gears going, because there's no progress if I don't think about it.

Q: What (if any) music do you listen to for help getting those creative juices flowing?

A: I'll listen to a general playlist I've wrangled together if I'm writing for Maxiosa, and that can sort of get me in the mood - namely, some DJ Shadow or some Radiohead, though a lot of artists are one-offs.  For other fics, or moments where I need a specific tone, I can turn to more energetic music and scratch that itch.

Q: What is your biggest challenge as a creator?

A: Inspiration and drive is my biggest challenge.  Nowadays, I don't really have inspiration unless it just somehow *comes* to me - which will often be around 1 AM which leaves a lot to be desired.  A lot of writing also came out of emotional distress, which thankfully I don't really experience anymore, but that means finding some other sort of fuel to write from.

Q: How have you grown as a creator through your participation in the Mad Max Fandom? How has your work changed? Have you learned anything about yourself?

A: I've definitely grown in terms of how I write.  I sort of cringe at how I first wrote a lot of my stuff, which resulted in some works being removed or re-worked.  My writing has done a lot better in terms of - well, I don't cringe at it as much.  I'm more confident in what I write and how.  It's a more mature style that I can reflect on as an era of writing separate from what I wrote when I was younger.  In short, it's better.  

Have I learned anything about myself?  Can't quite say.

Q: Which character do you relate to the most, and how does that affect your approach to that character? Is someone else your favourite to portray? How has your understanding of these characters grown through portraying them?

A: I'd say I relate to Max the most.  I understand being alone and avoiding people.  That's oversimplifying it, but I sympathize with him the most.  This allows me to write him if not accurately, then it helps me write him well.  Writing characters in general, while I'm not writing canon material, allows me to think of them as more than what they've done on the screen.  It allows me to think of them as complex characters.  I fill out the blanks left on the screen and it helps make them whole.

Q: Do you ever self-insert, even accidentally?

A: Definitely.  "Royce" is by-and-large a self-insert, and I think it pretty much says so on the can.  It became a great way to explore what I would do in such a world, but I feel like doing self-inserts in the right way can be an excellent method to explore parts of the story that we don't usually see.  

Q: How does your work for the fandom change how you look at the source material?

A: It allows me to form a more complete image of the before, during, and after.  It may not be canonical, but I can appreciate the movie as more than just a slice of the world.  I think about everything happening behind the scenes - what's happening at the Citadel, in the War Party, in the wreckage following the battle of the Fury Road.  Instead of asking questions about what happened and what will happen, I form answers.

Q: Do you prefer to create in one defined chronology or do your works stand alone? Why or why not?

A: I enjoy the concept of trying to fit all my fics into one world, because 1) it breeds continuity, 2) it breeds opportunities for the future, and 3) it's just fun.  Not only do you have the source material, but using what you create helps you get more familiar and comfortable with the characters.  Writing for standalone fics means you have to resort to a different mindset for these characters, though some may enjoy that, so more power to them.

Q: To break or not to break canon? Why?

A: Both is fun.  I have canon-compliant and canon-divergent fics and they both have their benefits and drawbacks in terms of familiarity and "give" in terms of what you want to do.  

Q: If you work with OCs walk us through your process for creating them. Who are some of your favourites?

A: If they are proper OCs with no real inspiration, I start with basically envisioning them in my mind.  What are their names and what do they look like?  What is their purpose?  What is their past, and do you want that to factor into what they do in the present and future?  It doesn't have to be a whole lot if they're minor characters, but the more you do means you have more to play with.  You can add complexity to a character or just use them as a means to an end.  

My favorite OC has to be Royce just because of how I know Royce ends up, and how he's used as a storytelling tool.

Q: Who are some works by other creators inside and outside of the fandom that have influenced your work?

A: Owlship has had a direct influence on my work - I've snagged quite a few prompts from her and I've been inspired at least directly by "the centre cannot hold;".  While I can't say I really look up to anyone else as an influence, I definitely give props to Weirdness_Unlimited for taking off running with "To Love Reptiles" and their OC work, and giving me inspiration to keep going with mine.  I quite literally went through every single fic that looked good to me when I first found MMFR so I can't really point anything out that has influenced me except for the creativity of the community as a whole.

Q: Tell us about a current WIP or planned project.

A: Runaway is the big WIP I'm staring down right now.  I've been bogged down in terms of having a hard time writing thought and reflection instead of action.  I've probably said it a hundred times, but I do have an outline set up for the fic which would go pretty far if written for completely.  Anyone reading it can expect something interesting in the next few chapters.   I do have another WIP or two in my pocket that I'll abstain from talking about, but they'll be little one shots.  One's a bit of pre-canon, another's post-canon which is the one I'm favoring.  There's still gears turning, no matter how small, and I hope to get stuff going again soon.

@b-kilroy thank you for your time. 

[kidgezine]

Check-in #2 is Next Monday!

Some of y’all have already turned in your sketches or drafts (and a few finished works) but for the rest of us be sure to email your work to kidgezine@gmail.com by 11:59 pm EST on Monday October 15th. Just like last time, putting your work in the WIP channel of the Discord server is great but it does not count as turning them in so be sure to email them. Here’s some details to help out:

Artists

Sketches for Individual Pages: This is where you need to make sure your image is the right size and all set up for printing. We made a template with an illustrated tutorial to help you with that. Just check out this post and follow the instructions there. The image in Step 3 is a sketch. It’s a bit of a rough sketch but a good example of the minimum expectations for what your sketch should be. It’s ok if you’re already past the sketch stage. Just watch the gif at the end of that post for a quick animation of how to make sure your image is ok for printing. If you need help with that jump into the Discord server and ask umbraja to give you a hand.

Sketches for Journal Images: These are going to be framed to look like old school Polaroids so the print specs aren’t as exacting with journal images as they are with full page pieces - no need to worry about the bleed. They do need to fit into the frames though. Polaroids have about a 3x3 inch picture area so your journal sketches need to be square. We'd rather you draw at a minimum of 6x6 inches (1800x1800 pixels) so you can get better detail but they will end up printed 3x3 so not too much detail.

Thumbnails for Collaborations: Many of y’all turned in thumbnails for collabs last month but they’re not actually due until this one. You can turn in more if you like or go ahead and send sketches. Be sure to send your writer thumbnails and sketches (preferably before you send them to us) so they can give you feedback too. Please let us know if your writer has not been working with you on the collaborations so we can pester them about it. Thumbnails for collaborations should follow the same guidelines as Individual pieces but with a bit more room for creativity. Collaborations do NOT have to follow the 6x9 page size rule. Because there is text to work with in the layout you can make your Collaboration image(s) any shape you want and we will use the fic’s text to fill in the extra space. You can even do organic shaped edges and full spread layouts. We’ll do a tutorial on this later so don’t be afraid of doing fancy things. We’re here to help y’all get it done.

Writers

Drafts for Individual Works: Page count is tight for the printed zine so we made y’all a writing template that you can copy/paste your fic into and get a feel of how many pages you’re using. Just check out this post and follow the instructions there. Don’t panic if you’re over the page count. We’ll work with you to trim it down. If we can’t trim it then we’ll select an excerpt for the printed zine and will put the rest of the pages in the digital copy. We would like to have some complete works in the printed zine though so not everyone can have an excerpt. As for the drafts, these do not need to be polished works but they do need to be complete from beginning to end. They can be super rough with no consideration for grammar or style so long as there is enough detail for us to get a feel of where the fic is going. You can have long sections of dialog with no description (I actually find this to be the best way to draft dialog) or summaries of conversations to be fleshed out later so long as we get the gist of what’s going on. It’s ok if you’ve got notes on things you haven’t figured out yet. You can even put questions in your draft if you want specific feedback such as “I’m not sure if this is physically possible, do you know?” and we will respond when you get your feedback. It’s also Ok if your draft deviates wildly from your outline. We understand how narratives can evolve. Your final story should resemble your draft though so be sure you’ve pinned down where this thing is going to end up.

Drafts for Collaborations: It is very important that you get your drafts as well as any notes, comments, descriptions, or other resources to your artist(s) as soon as possible. The draft itself should follow the same guidelines as an individual work but you also have to communicate with your artist(s) to make sure they have what they need to get their part done. Your artist(s) should be showing you thumbnails by now. Please give them feedback. If your artist doesn’t send you something by Oct 15th let us know.

Journal Entries: We’re going to wait until we get sketches for these cuz we had so many different versions we’re not sure which thumbnails are getting finished. There are a whole lot of really great images so we’re super excited and can’t wait to show you guys so y’all can pick which ones to write for.

Betas

We’ve gotten all the betas paired up so go to your Check-in page and see which fic(s) you got. Each fic should have a Beta Level listed. Most of the writers only want feedback on a nearly finished work (that’ll be November/December) but some wanted feedback on each stage and a few want to work directly with their beta. You’re expected to give your writer(s) this level of feedback so if they only want a single read then you don’t have to do anything till later. Feel free to hang out in the Discord and help any writers that ask for it though. If your writer wants feedback on each stage then you’ll need to read over what they’ve got and send an email to kidgezine@gmail.com with your feedback by November 1st so we can add it to their Check-in page. Don’t contact your writer directly unless their beta level says they want to work directly with their beta. 

There should be a link below each fic’s summary that will take you to that writer’s submission folder. If your writer does not have a link below their fic that means they have not turned anything in. Right now we mostly only have outlines so you should probably wait until after the draft deadline to give feedback. Feel free to read the outlines though. Some of the writers have given us Google Docs with comment permissions turned on so you might be able to leave comments in the doc itself. Please still email us a copy of your comments so we can keep our information up to date and know not to pester you about doing your feedback.

A Note on Missing Deadlines

Holidays are coming up and we’ve got Inktober then NaNoWriMo to keep y’all busy so we understand the next few deadlines could be a crunch. That’s why we have so many of them. It’s Ok if you miss a few of the deadlines - except the last one, that’s absolutely final. Just be sure to contact us (in the Discord or send us an email) to let us know that you’ll be late and when we can expect you to have your work turned in. This way we don’t worry about you (we worry cuz we care). If there’s some special circumstance we can even work out an alternative schedule and any other assistance you may need to help get your work done. All you gotta do is ask.

That said, it is not fair to everyone else if you miss too many deadlines. Thankfully we only had a few people miss the first deadline and one of them has set up an alternative schedule. So long as the rest of y’all get your work in before the next deadline (which most of you have) you’ll be ok. If you miss another deadline without turning in last month’s work though, we will start to have problems.

The deadlines create a process that is designed to give y’all some structure and help you do your best work while letting us make sure that work is right for the zine. If you don’t follow the process you might end up doing work that has to be redone because it doesn’t fit the zine. No one wants that. So, please, follow the process and turn your work in on time (or at least close to it). If you don’t follow the process we may not accept your work into the zine.

Feedback on Progress

Y’all should have gotten an email with a link to our Check-in page which has all the information we’ve got on you and what work you’ve turned in so far. There should be feedback on your first check-in there and we’ll be adding feedback for every other check-in right under that as we get it in. Let us know if your feedback is missing or any other issues with the information and we’ll get it fixed. Also let us know if you did not get that email so we can send you the link. 

We won’t be sending a notification email for the next round of feedback but we will have it posted to the Check-in page no later than November 1st so just give it a look then to see our comments. If you want feedback sooner than that just put ‘Feedback Please’ in the subject line of the email when you turn your work in so we know to look at yours first. We’ll respond to your request email to let you know when to check the page for your feedback. 

 It’s up to you if you want to wait for feedback before continuing your work but you might have to make some adjustments if you get too far ahead. We won’t force you to do what our feedback says (unless it’s about following the zine’s requirements) but we will give suggestions for development. The decision is ultimately yours if you want to follow that or not. So long as your idea fits the requirements we’re not gonna be picky.

[fool-errant]

Ask a Writer

I got tagged by @rabbitkinder

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

Well my studio handle is Foolish Mortal - but someone’s been sitting on that username since dirt. So I went with fool-errant - like knight errant but stupider. The fool part is obvious - and errant means alternatively “straying from proper course or standards” and “traveling in search of adventure” - which I felt summed up thing pretty decent. My handle on FFnet and AO3 is NoCapes - cause I wanted to make sure thatif you looked up my website for art - you didn’t accidentally stumble on TF2 slash. That name comes from the fact I have a little Edna Mode figure sitting on my computer monitor that caught my eye at the time I was looking for a name. 

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/favorites, follows/subscriptions, visitor hits, kudos)

Erm - well I only have ze one main fic online these day. My long suffering TF2 fic Smoke Gets in Your Eyes. Though even compared to the long lost junk I wrote in high school - its still got the most feedback.

3. What is your FFnNet/AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

I’m not sure I ever got an icon on those accounts. I just never got aroundto it. 

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

I honestly love all commenters. I have a few regulars who became buds of mine that I love. Also anyone that ends up making something in reaction to my writing is special to me. 

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

Not really. I’m a horrible person. I also have a mind that retains little details, so I am the sort that reads something once and can remember it clearly later. 

I DO have a few genre/ tropes I like to revisit reading wise. One is Lavellen/Cullen from Dragon Age. Another one I binge hit recently is anything about Finn from Star Wars needing and receiving hugs and people (mainly Poe) supporting him. And Princess Leia shows up to remind people to take care of themselves and Storm Pilot snuggles ever after.  

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

Uh...I’m honestly not sure. I squirrel away bookmarks and forget about them later. I have a couple in progress stories I subscribe to. 

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

I really don’t do AUs - unless you count the gag bit I wrote where Spy and FemSpy are the parents of Carmen Sandiego.  I tend to feel people are the products of their settings and removing them from that takes a lot of their traits away. Though that’s my opinion and I’m never going to tell anyone they can’t or shouldn’t go write and enjoy their own thing. 

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

Welp on AO3: Bookmarks:74  Subscriptions:77

Here on Tumbles: 268

on FFnet - I can not make heads or tales of that one. Though I seem to have a couple of folks in South Africa reading - which is cool. 

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

.....*Maniacal laughter*  I deal with chronic depression and anxiety. So I have a very large list of things I WANT to do but don’t. A lot of it is due to the fear of judging - and a lot of “no one wants this - what is the point?”  

I had an original concept involving airship pirates - colonialism - and the main lead was a trans pan sexual in a setting that didn’t have words or play book for hat sort of thing. The story wasn’t ABOUT the fact the lead was the way they were, it was just aside thing. But I scrapped it cause I figured no one wanted it - it was stranger and I didn’t want people coming out of the woodwork telling me I didn’t have a right to do that or that I wrote the lead wrong.  

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

I have long ago accepted my inability to porn well.  I’d love to be better with my updates. But as mentioned earlier I deal with depression - so my brain meats aren’t the most efficient at cranking out things in a timely manner.  Also replyingto comments/ social media shit. I am awful at. 

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

I guess Rarepairs...I suppose. 

12. How many stories have you posted on FFNet/AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

Three/four - one large chapter monster and lots of little drabbles that sort of grew around it. 

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

*cough* Lots

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

...Depends on how long the story idea bugs me, how complicated the idea is and if I intend to do anything with it.  

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

Not exactly. A bud of mine and me in high school triedto do that but gave up. Now a days I just co author smutty bits with someone else cause I am no good at those on my own.

16. How did you discover FFNet/AO3?

I knew about FF.net before the great PornPurge. I am not even sure HOW I found them. Probably just wandering the net as a young impressionable nerd. I also used to deal with webrings if you want to guess how old I am. 

AO3 I...think I heard about on tumblr, or I had a friend or two metion them tome when I started writing fic again seriously. 

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on FFNet/AO3?

No. I always end up baffled to find out people have read or remember anything I’d worked on. 

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

Not really? What?

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

Not to my knowledge - I think there was a quote about art that I picked up via Ted Naifeh about how you have to get through 1000 bad drawings to get to the good ones. That tends to stick in my mind about  writing or anything I’m trying my hand at. 

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

I don’t have much for writing - but creating things in general. When I started doing art in high school the forums I hung out on always had the reminder, “There will always be someone better than you. But you will always be better than someone else.” Write as things come to mind. You don’t have to write in sequential order - you can edit that later. Don’t worry if things come out rough and ugly in your first drafts, things can get polished later. Write what you want, not what you think others will want. Also to paraphrase Dr Suess - if you draw a monster with three heads, be sure to give it three toothbrushes. Keep details in mind when building a world/ scenario.

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

I have a rough skeleton or shape I start with - when I start writing it all out things start getting filled in - or changed from the original plan cause something better came up. 

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

Occasionally I would get folks complaining about “the slow bits” where it’s just banter - or folks getting snotty about the lack of sex scenes, but generally nothing “bad” just antsy. 

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

SMUT - I’m a poor little ace robot. My brain doesn’t quite know what to do with smut scenes. Where do hands go? What do they do? People do what? Don’t they know what comes out of those places? EVERYONE NEEDS TO WASH THEIR HANDS.  I don’t cut the scenes since I know it’s a thing people do- and it feels disingenuous to have violence in a story and then get all fiddly when sex shows up. So I have cucu help me out - and have lots of feedback from other folks as we muddle along. 

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

Still working on Smoke as I can and trying to flesh out an original concept, which is sort of a post apocalyptic noir,

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

YEP 

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

Not DAILY - but I do try to make myself add 500 words to what I’m working on when I do sit down to write. 

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

Thankfully 

28. What is your favorite story(s) that you’ve written?

I dunno - I mean I don’t have much going on right now that’s eaten my time and attention as much as Smoke Gets in Your Eyes has. 

29. What is your least favorite story(s) that you’ve written?

Nothing that I’ve left out in public. I cleared out my old writing archives ages ago and I tend not to let myself look back. 

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

I don’t actually know. I rarely consider myself a writer. I am an artist - I went to school for art and drawing. I just sort of accidentally picked writing back up. 

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

Planning - Conceptualizing. The early stages when everything is still nebulous and nothing is forced into words. 

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

Putting things into words. Also the whole “creating things to toss into the void” sensation.

33. Why do you write?

Because my brain sort of will keep daisy chaining ideas and building stories with or without my permission. So focusing on them - writing them and getting them out on paper for others to look at seems the only real solution.  Also cause my friends got sick of my being like “so hypothetically - if blah and blah happened - you think such and such would shake out of that?” 

I taaaag @fat-mabari @vkiera @prinxvariety

Cheers!

[acheaptrickandacheesyoneline]

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Arrow (TV 2012) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak Characters: Oliver Queen, Slade Wilson, Patience and Fortitude the New York Library Lions, Felicity Smoak Additional Tags: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Remember the fic I’ve been talking about only as IndyFic, This is Indyfic, Indiana Jones inspired, If you think you recognize a plot device or nod from somewhere you’re probably right, I have stol…Borrowed so much, From Uncharted to Indiana Jones to The Mummy to Clive Cussler books to Aladdin Summary:

She didn’t plan on ever having an adventure unless it said ‘turn to page 34 to open the door’, but somewhere between being kissed in the library and running from a one-eyed man with a gun, Felicity was pretty sure adventure had found her whether she wanted it or not.

It’s like The Mummy, only not really.

~~~

Author’s Note: This fic has been over a year in the making now, and I owe so many people thanks for the help they gave me along the way. First, to @dettiot, for being the first person to cheerlead for me on this, and for the beta work to make this first chapter pack some punch. Really, the entire fic idea wouldn’t have happened without your comment about Robbie Amell’s Twin being a patron that one day. Happy birthday!

I would be remiss if I didn’t thank all of the people who betaed for me with all the drafts that this went through. @andcreation, @adiwriting, @ohemgeeitscoley for their grammer catches and tense hunting, and @ellefraser17, @almostvivian, @lynslogic and @nightkeepyr for yelling at me with excitement as they read. Couldn’t ask for better cheerleaders!

Many MANY thanks to @green-arrows-of-karamel for assistance with later chapters and answering my many questions about Venezuela! 

Finally, there will be artwork throughout this fic. This chapter features BEAUTIFUL art from the wonderfully talented @cherchersketch

~~~

Tagging the few people that expressed interest in knowing when I posted this: @thatmasquedgirl, @realityisoverrated-fic, @imusuallyobsessed

Read it below or on AO3

Growing up, she had never planned to be a librarian. Felicity’s life had been computers from the moment she built her first one at age seven, all the way through her graduation from MIT with her Masters at age nineteen. While IT work had never been her ultimate goal — she couldn’t think about a life of telling people, “have you tried turning if off and on again” and not lose her mind — she knew it would have been the first step into a company through which she could then rise the ranks.

Of course, by the time she had graduated, the economy had gone down the toilet faster than her hacktivist days had. Given that the only other job she could find was working part time at Tech Village in her own personal version of hell, clearly the best option was to go back to school to get another degree, especially if she wasn’t the one paying for it.

Growing up in Vegas with an income coming only from her mother’s waitressing, she spent a lot of summers in the library, reading programming books, joining in on book clubs they had going on, or even a few of the arts and crafts things. Of course, that had all been when she wasn’t old enough to be allowed on the computers that weren’t just full of learning games.

She could have gotten around those blocks in a minute now, but at eight years old, it was a different thing entirely.

Basically, she had good memories of the librarians and libraries from growing up. When she did her research and saw that it would take a year, at most, for her to get her degree in Library Sciences, Felicity didn’t think twice before resigning her lease in Boston for another year. That was followed up with an email to her old advisor to let them know she was interested in coming back to MIT and could she maybe sign up for courses even though it was technically after the due date?

As it turned out, having masters in both library science and computer science & cyber security, along with a minor in Latin America studies (a few electives here and there and the next thing she knew, she had somehow gotten a minor) made her quite a catch for any library that was hiring.

The main branch of the New York Public Library had given her an offer she would have been stupid to refuse. Not only was it in New York, where she knew she could still apply for tech jobs while she worked at the library, but she would also have full access to their archives. Plus, moving from Boston to New York wasn’t all that expensive, especially once she had gone through her belongings and had donated what she didn’t need.

After a year working at the Schwarzman Building, living in New York, and taking the subway into Grand Central every morning, Felicity knew there was no way she would be leaving any time soon.  There was something so incredibly wonderful about being surrounded by books, hearing their rustling pages as patrons flipped through the new arrivals, or smelling that old book smell when she went to reshelve the returns that had come in.

Her favorite days were the ones that she could spend in the archives. Felicity was more than able to indulge in her love of history, especially those of some of the more fabled lost cities of the world, like Atlantis, El Dorado, Avalon, Shangri-La, or the supposed lost continent of Mu. Even if the last couldn’t exist due to scientific impossibility.

But today was not an archive day. Today was her day working in the Reading Room, helping patrons gather and read over research materials for whatever project they were working on that day.

“Good morning Patience, Fortitude,” she told the stone lions on her way past, giving Patience her customary pat on her paw.

Thankfully, it was a warm morning for May, so she didn’t need to try to store her coat under the small amount of open space under the desk. Felicity slid her bag into its spot before she clipped her name badge on, ready to face the day.

Five hours later, she was less ready to face the remainder of the day after answering the same questions ten times in a row. Her tablet in hand, Felicity motioned to Lyn that she was taking a fifteen minute break, before leaving the room and starting down the stairs into Astor Hall in all of its splendor.

She leaned against the marble wall at the landing for a moment, taking in the view of both patrons and tourists walking around. Her attention was drawn towards a commotion at the entry from Fifth Avenue.  A rather well dressed man rushed in, pushing through the crowd. He paused for a moment, and Felicity met his eyes when he looked her way, and saw the smile on his face before he started almost running towards her.

She had about thirty seconds — long enough to see three or four men run in, each with a hand under their jackets — before the man was right up next to her.

“Hi, sorry about this,” he told her with a grin that let her know that he was anything but.

He didn’t give her a chance to actually ask what he was apologizing for before his hands were on either side of her head against the wall and his lips were pressed firmly against her. She let out a gasp of surprise, letting him slide his tongue into her mouth a bit before slowly retreating back, running it softly over her lips for another second. With her eyes closed, she felt more than saw him pull away and begin to kiss up her jaw to her ear. “Are they gone?” he whispered to her with a lick to her earlobe.

“Huh?” It was about as much as she could manage to get out, with her brain shut down as it was.

“The guys who followed me in. Are they gone?”

Oh, now he was biting right where her neck met her shoulder and that was completely unfair. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw the four suits gathering back together at the doors, before they walked back outside.

“Yes” she gasped.

“Yes, they’re gone or yes, more?” he asked, lips brushing hers.

Shaking herself mentally, she brought her hands up to his chest — she would not notice how nice his chest felt under her hands, she would not — and pushed him away. “What was that?” she asked him. “You can’t just go around...kissing people like that!”

He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and shrugged. “I’m assuming they’re gone, given as how there is currently no one shooting at me? Great.” He turned and began to walk up the stairs Felicity had just come down . . . God, had it only been five minutes ago?

“You can’t just do that!” She rushed after him and reached for his upper arm to get his attention. “You can’t go around kissing random people.”

He gave a pointed look at her name badge before holding out his hand. “Oliver. And I see you’re Felicity. There. Now we’re not random people.” He gave her a smirk that told her that he was anything but sorry when she took his hand and shook it. “And, since you work here, maybe you can help me out. There’s an older journal that I’m looking for. One that the NYPL has.”

“I’m on break.” She closed her eyes in a brief wince. “I’m...I’m sorry. What I meant is that you’ll need to go to the reading room upstairs. If Lyn can’t help you find it, I’ll be up in just a bit and can go search the archives for it, if you tell me what the journal is.” With a final ‘have a nice day’ smile, Felicity turned her back on Oliver.  She was determined to enjoy the remaining ten minutes of her break, out on the steps of the library with her tablet.

She found it harder than normal to concentrate on her usual plethora of tech articles. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the kiss she had shared with Oliver on the stairs. Did it count as sharing if she hadn’t been kissing back, she wondered. Or was it more of something that she had experienced at that point. If she was honest with herself, which she did try to be, it had been an experience. Thinking back on her very few previous relationships, she didn’t think she had ever been kissed with such a degree of thoroughness before.

Felicity closed her eyes, counted back from three, and pushed the kiss from her mind for two reasons. One, she had to go back to work and deal with Oliver as a patron. Two, it had been an unwelcome kiss. A good one, but unwelcome. Like she had told him, going around kissing random people wasn’t something that could be done. But he had done it, and it had been a very good kiss from an objective standpoint and she really didn’t have time to deal with this right now.  

“Later tonight. With wine and mint chocolate chip,” she muttered under her breath as she stood and closed the lid on her tablet. There, now she had a plan.

While she was hesitant to go back inside, she was thankful Oliver was nowhere in sight when she went back to the reading room. Felicity gave Gladys a smile when she met her behind the desk to take her spot back. Hopefully, the older woman had already helped Oliver find whatever he needed and he wouldn’t be back. As much as she enjoyed helping and answering questions, she could now firmly add patrons who randomly kissed her to the ‘con’ side of working at the library.

Which she was totally going to stop thinking about. Right now.

Not seeing anyone approaching the help desk, Felicity ducked under the counter to slide her tablet back into her bag and pulled out her small notebook and pen, intent on working more on her pet project. Her hopes for a quiet afternoon were quickly shattered when she stood up and saw Oliver leaning against the counter.

He had appeared so quietly she hadn’t even heard him coming over. She let out a small ‘eep’ of a noise before catching herself and attempting to calm her racing heart. Not only did he kiss random people, but he snuck up on them, too. He was a ninja. A kissing ninja.

“Hello again,” he said, his quiet voice breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Hi,” Felicity responded.

“You said you could help me find a journal?”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “Journal, right. You had said you were looking for that earlier. Which of course you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Unless it was to use the computers.”

A pause for a breath as she took him in:  jeans that hugged everything, tailored shirt with the first two buttons undone.

“But you look like the type of person who probably has their own computer. Not that there is a specific look for computer owners, because that would be ridiculous. But considering the ratio of computers versus books in this place, it’s easy to assume, which, you know what they say. Not that I’m calling you an ass! I might be calling myself one, though, and I need to stop talking in three, two, one…”

Felicity closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see the likely smirk on Oliver’s face from her babble and took a deep breath, forcing her racing heart and brain to slow down. When she opened them, she was surprised to see that he was giving her a small smile, amusement on his face but not like he was laughing at her. It was different from the normal reactions to her babble, and it made her smile back at him a moment before she remembered that no, she should not be smiling at the Kissing Ninja, especially not while on the clock.

Turning to her computer, she pulled up the classic catalog and quickly typed in a few search terms, so that the results would only bring back journals. No biographies, no history books. “What’s the name of the author of this journal?” she asked, hands poised for typing.

“His name is Diego de Ordaz. Born in Spain in 1480, died in Venezuela in 1532,” Oliver said. “He wrote a journal during his time in South America, right before he died there.”

Her fingers moved swiftly across the keys, typing in the keyword fields in order to narrow the search parameters. A part of her mind noticed how earnest Oliver’s voice had gotten when he started describing the journal, all the teasing gone from it. This was something that was important to him, far more than anything else. He wasn’t giving off the vibe of a student desperate for a final thesis source, either.  Especially not with how he had run into the library, being chased by men he was trying to get away from.

The de Ordaz name was ringing bells in her head, too, though she wasn’t positive as to why. Had she reshelved that one earlier today? Or maybe another patron had asked her for it earlier this week? Given that it had been written in the fifteenth or sixteenth century, it was no surprise that the actual handwritten copy itself wasn't allowed out of the archives. But there was a copy of it that could be loaned out. Or could be if it hadn’t already been checked out by another patr…

Oh.

It had been her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is in this journal you’re hoping to find, Oliver,” she asked him. Felicity shuffled through the papers that were on the desk around there and found the copy of the Ordaz journal she had been reading earlier in the week. Meeting his eyes, she told him, “Because if it’s information on pre-Spanish South America, there are better sources out there than one of the conquerors themselves.”

“You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said with a smile.

Their hands brushed when he reached out to take it, but Felicity didn’t make any move to let go of the book. She just raised an eyebrow and waited for him to answer her question. His shoulders slumped slightly, making him seem less of a giant as he sighed.  

“Diego led an expedition up the Río Orinoco. No one is sure why, but a prevailing theory is that he was searching for--”

“El Dorado,” Felicity cut in.

She knew this story. It was one of the reasons she had checked the book out in the first place. It was also why she knew that there was next to nothing in it regarding El Dorado or any mention about finding it. She had a better chance of getting information from the old Amazon Trail game she had played at the Las Vegas Public Library than from Diego’s writings.

“Well, yeah.” Oliver flashed her another smile when he was finally able to take the journal from her. “Been working on tracking this down for a while.”

He gave her a wink before he walked away, leaving Felicity to stare after him as he took a seat at a table near the edge of the room, away from the entrance. She watched him a moment longer, now that there was no one around to stop her and nothing else she had to be doing. He was staring intently at what looked like a rock he had pulled out of his pocket, before staring at the journal for a few seconds. Then he wrote something in a notebook, after which the whole process started again.

Not a grad student from the local university, that was for sure.

Felicity gave a mental shrug and returned her focus to the other patrons in the room and the mess that was her desk for the afternoon. As much as she didn’t want to clean it up, some of the papers could do with organizing. But that could probably wait until later that evening, when there wasn’t the risk of someone coming in and her not being on desk. And while she couldn’t keep her mind on her tech articles from before, she knew that a bit of mindless online reading would be just the thing.

Gothamist it was. “Just an article or two,” she promised herself quietly. Everyone at the desk seemed to look at Gothamist, given how it was the first option to show up as soon as she had typed in ‘g’. “Or maybe three if I only look at the short ones.”

The first article that caught her eye was the fact that Staten Island was getting a new restaurant that was brunch only, a fact that made her breakfast-loving heart leap for joy. She was about to click it when she scrolled down a bit further than planned and saw a photo of Oliver, the Oliver that was sitting less than twenty feet from her. The Oliver who had run into the library earlier with guys chasing after him — guys she was pretty sure were carrying guns. The Oliver who had kissed her. The photo of Oliver attached to a headline of “Oliver Queen Spotted in Manhattan; Astors and Vanderbilts Put Extra Locks on Family Mausoleums."

“Oh, frak.”

Now that she knew just what family Oliver belonged to, it made the past hour even worse than she had thought. Before it had just been embarrassment on her part. But now, she had actively helped a member of the Queen family — who was well known for having made their riches through their grave robbing and tomb desecration along with finding the average shipwreck location — locate where the City of Gold and the Golden Man were said to be, according to legend.

The papers never called it robbing. It was exploration. Like they were some sort of family full of Indiana Joneses. The books also never confirmed that the reason the Queen family had enough money to finance all of these globe trotting adventures throughout the last two generations was because they had found the lost ship that had held the Amber Room, before quietly and illegally selling all of it on the black market. Pieces of that treasure had turned up in various private collections throughout the years, but never anything to confirm whom they had purchased it from.

It wasn’t all that hard to put the pieces together though. Especially not if you were Felicity Smoak. And she was.

Which likely meant that Oliver was going after El Dorado.

Holding her head high, Felicity walked quickly across the room towards where Oliver was sitting, still engrossed in his writing. Her heels struck out a staccato rhythm on the marble floor, a sound that made her walk tall, filling the room with her presence as she had watched her mother do on the floors of Vegas casinos to garner tips.

A good pair of heels was just as much a set of armor as a computer’s firewall was.

She stopped cold next to Oliver and waited for him to look up at her as she invaded his space. What she really wanted to do was reach her hand across his line of sight and slam the book shut, but there was only so far she could go, even if she was upset with him.

“You’re Oliver Queen,” she stated, trying to keep her voice down.

“I am, yes,” he said slowly, looking up at her. He had paused in his writing, but didn’t close his notes. “I thought you knew that from earlier? After all, we aren’t strangers.”

She ignored his comment and instead leaned over and planted her hands on the table. “What are you doing with the De Ordaz book? Couldn’t just buy your own?”

“Why spend money when I can just pop in here for a moment to get what I need?”

His innocent face as he looked up at her… nope, she wasn’t buying that. There was something else going on and she was going to find out what. History was one thing that was allowed to have mysteries. There was no way to sort out what was real and what was not based on books alone, as much as she might try. But people? Computers? That was another thing entirely.

“Why are you looking into...into El Dorado?” She almost whispered the words even though there was no one around them.

Felicity could perfectly picture what would happen if word got out that the Queen family was looking into that mythical place. There was a reason they were known as some of the most successful treasure hunters; they never went after something unless they were sure it existed. As soon as they found it, they quickly brought it to auction, selling to the highest bidder rather than donating it to a museum, ensuring that only the rich would be able to see priceless things on a daily basis.

“I want to find it,” Oliver said simply. After a moment where she held her tongue and held his gaze, he relented. “I want to be the one who finds it, have my name connected with it.” Setting his pen down, he met her eyes. “Everyone knows who my parents are. Especially my dad.”

Felicity couldn’t help but nod in response. For all that she was upset with him right now, he wasn’t telling her anything that she didn’t know there. Robert had been the one responsible for finding Nuestra Senora in the 1980s, one of the biggest shipwreck finds given the amount of gold and silver and other valuables that had been recovered.

“See? Even you know of him,” Oliver said.  And that there was what stopped Felicity for a moment, made her stand up instead and take note of just how dejected he sounded. “Which means I am always going to be Robert’s son, never Oliver, unless I find something bigger, better. At least to the people who matter.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that he was Oliver to her, that it didn’t matter what others thought as long as he was happy. Thankfully, Felicity caught the words before they could bubble forth in a babble that was sure to cause trouble. It shouldn’t matter to her what he thought of himself, it shouldn’t.

But it did.

“That’s why I’ve been looking for El Dorado,” he said, drawing her attention back to him. “This,” he held up the arrowhead, “is said to unlock the code that Ordaz wrote in his journal. Which will then tell us how to get to the location.”

“Us?” Way to go, self, she thought. Of course it was the word ‘us’ that she had focused on.

He looked almost as shocked as she felt, so there was that. “Me. I meant me.”  He looked down at his notes. “But I must have done it wrong, I can’t figure out what this says. Or maybe the story of the arrowhead leading the way is just as fake as the story of the city.”

“There is always some truth in every story,” Felicity told him, spinning his notebook towards her before she could second guess herself. Pulling her red pen out from behind her ear, she nibbled on the end while she stared at his tidy writing. “If you make these into words here,” she drew a line between two strings of letters, “here,” another line, “and here, it starts making sense.”

“I don’t see it,” he said.

She wrote out the words under his pencil in her red pen. “Na caixa atada,” Felicity said. “It’s Portuguese.”

“Which is not a language I know. Dammit.” His pencil almost broke in half with the amount of force he slammed it onto the table.

“Oliver!” She widened her eyes at him before gesturing to the room around him. “I might be helping you with this, but that doesn’t mean I won’t ask you to leave for being too loud! This is a library. Not your private lair.”

“You speak Portuguese?”

“That’s all you got out of that?”

“It’s the important bit!”

Felicity had never before wanted to take her glasses off to rub at her eyes in annoyance. It was a new feeling, and not one that she enjoyed. “I don’t speak it, but reading it is a lot easier.”

“Will you translate this?”

“Are you asking me to help you find El Dorado so that you can stake your claim on it and become famous?”

“Would it help if I said please?” he asked. That stupid smile of his was back on his face again.

She could feel her heart being near torn in two at the choice in front of her. On the one hand, there was the thrill of being on the hunt for something she had only read about, a chance to actually help find and prove that a fabled lost city was actually real. On the other, she would be helping Oliver Queen. Felicity was pretty sure that there was no way he was just going to be okay with telling the UN about it and letting the gold that was said to exist just stay there. Likely all of the other artifacts she was sure actually would once again be put up on the auction block too, and the myth would be as good as gone.

She never got a chance to turn him down. With a speed that rivaled his earlier random kissing — no, still not thinking about that, it was just a kiss and really, it wasn’t even that good of one — Oliver was shoving everything from the table into a satchel before grabbing her arm as he stood.

“What are you…” she tried to ask while he dragged her quickly over to a corner, well out of sight from the door.

“We need to go, now. What is the quickest way out of here?”

She pulled her wrist out of his grip with a force born of anger. “What is going on? I can’t just leave!”

“Felicity.” Oliver reached for both of her hands, trapping them in between his larger ones. His voice was low and serious, a tone she hadn’t heard from him yet, one that instantly had her paying attention. “At the entrance to this room right now is a very dangerous man, who is trying very hard to get me. It was his men who were after me when I ran in here be — No, don’t loo—”

She wriggled out of his grasp and peered around his body, in order to see who it was he was talking about, before he could finish his warning of not looking. A man who would have worked very well as a James Bond villain was leaning against the doors, taking in the room with a practiced eye. One eye, given the eyepatch that he was wearing.

Oliver tugged her back behind him, away from the man’s line of sight. But the movement had drawn his attention like a mouse does a cat’s, and the well dressed man began a slow stalk towards her and Oliver.

“Frak,” she found herself saying for the second time that day. Her gut was telling her that Eyepatch was bad news. And while her brain might have been wrong on occasion before, trusting her gut had rarely gotten her into trouble.

“We need to move. Now, Felicity. He’s seen you with me. We both need to leave.”

Felicity bit her lower lip a moment before nodding. He was right. She could feel her heart pounding as she led Oliver away from Eyepatch, weaving between tables and patrons with an ease she had developed only through her months of working here. There was a staircase that was used for emergencies at the back of the room. She thought she could get them both to it before anything happened.

They were almost there when she heard who she assumed was Eyepatch yell out, “Queen!” It echoed over the marble and off the high ceilings, filling the room and causing everyone in it to freeze. Well, everyone but her and Oliver.

“Run!” Oliver commanded, racing ahead of her towards the door. Behind her came a loud crack that had Felicity ducking her head on instinct. Had that been...was that a gunshot?!

The yells and shouts of the patrons behind her were all the confirmation she needed that yes, it had been. “Frak!”

They burst through the emergency door, setting off an alarm in the process. The one corner of her thoughts that wasn’t scared out of its wits about being shot at recognized the alarm as a good thing, since it would get people moving and exiting the building.

In front of her, Oliver was running down the stairs, leaping when close to the bottom and swinging around the railing to get to the next, in an attempt to go even faster. And while she could run in heels if she was forced to, running in heels down a staircase was something even her mother, the indomitable Donna Smoak, would have had problems with.

“Felicity, hurry,” Oliver called up to her. They both froze for a moment as they heard a door above them slam open.

The same voice from before called out, “C’mon kid, I know you’re here. You might have given my men the slip before, but you won’t get away from me!”

Felicity found herself making a panicked face at Oliver, who had quietly approached her while Eyepatch had been speaking. She knew there was no way she could run fast enough in her heels to get down the stairs and out in the streets to lose him in time.

“Go,” she hissed at Oliver, already hearing steps, carefully measured steps, coming down the stairs, closer to them. “I’ll only slow you down!”

“He’ll kill you,” he muttered. “I won’t let that happen.”

Suddenly, she was in Oliver’s arms and he was flying down the staircase again. He didn’t seem at all bothered by her weight. She was very glad that she had decided to wear pants to work that morning. Being shot at and carried down the stairs by a very muscle-y man hadn’t been what she had planned on happening when she had picked out her outfit that morning, but a skirt flying up around her hips would have just made it all even worse.

With a shove against the street level door, Oliver stumbled outside. Felicity had to take a moment to blink at the sudden sunlight after the darker confines of the stairwell in order to see where they were. He began to run towards the street, talking to her at the same time. “We need to lose him.”

“Grand Central station,” she said without hesitation. It would be busy this time of day, easy to slip through the throng of people and constantly moving trains. “That way.”

Holy crap. Somehow Oliver was running even faster than before, which should not have been possible given that he was carrying her. She could feel his heart pounding, felt him inhale and exhale, pushing himself to race the two blocks to the safety the station would offer.

And here she was, happy to reach her goal of five situps on Tuesday mornings.

“I need to take up running,” she told herself. Especially if being chased was going to become a regular thing, which looked like it might, given that she planned to help Oliver translate that jounal of his.

“Good to know you’re going to help me,” Oliver said with a grin, though his legs never faltered.

Of course she had spoken that. Because really, wasn’t that just the sort of day this had turned into.

At the doors to the station, Oliver set her down. She grabbed his hand, determined not to lose him in the crush of people. She risked a quick glance behind them and saw Eyepatch still coming towards them. “He’s coming!”

Normally, Grand Central Terminal held a grandeur that was enough to capture Felicity’s attention every time she walked inside, no matter how many times she had seen it before. The stately columns, the gold constellations against the dark blue ceiling, the marble flooring that saw hundreds of thousands steps against it every day. It was enough to make her stop for a second every day, to count her blessings that she got to see something so wonderful twice a day.

So it said something that she didn’t even glance up as they rushed in. Felicity led them right down the first escalator she could see, pushing past people like it was her God-given right. She had experienced it from the other end, being the one shoved, the first time she had come to New York and had made a promise to herself that she would never be that stereotypical resident of the Isle of Manhattan.

There was a first time for everything.

At the turnstile, Felicity fumbled for a moment with her pockets as she tried to find her MetroCard. Oliver leapt over it like he was some sort of action hero before he turned and lifted her over the turnstile. “Don’t have time for that!”

“There are cameras! I don’t want a fine!”  Her desire to pay her fare was something normal to hold onto during all of this madness, she supposed. Why else would she be worried about a fine for jumping the turnstile when there was Eyepatch with a gun after them?

Oliver stopping suddenly in front of her had Felicity running into his back. She took a moment to appreciate how his back and muscles felt under her hands as she caught her balance. “What’s wrong?”

“I...I’ve never used the subways. I don’t know where to go from here,” he admitted to her, looking lost as he stared at the different arrows and colors and signs hanging all around them.

This. This she could do.

It was with that knowledge that she led the way to the platform for the 7 train, reaching it just as the train arrived. There was a moment of feeling like a salmon swimming upstream when she tried to get in as other commuters were getting out, but the press of people quickly passed and then they were both inside, moving to seats as the doors closed.

As the doors closed, Felicity could see Eyepatch standing on the platform, staring after them, but she quickly lost sight of him as the train gained speed and entered the tunnels.

“Where are we going?” Oliver asked her. He was slightly out of breath compared to her panting and she wanted to hate him for it, even as she was on the verge of holding on to him and never letting go.

“Queens,” she told him after a moment. “We’re going into Queens. There are so many stops between here and ours, there is no way Eyepatch is going to be able to track us down anytime soon.”

He raised an eyebrow and turned to look at her. “Eyepatch?”

She gave a little half shrug. “I needed to call him something in my head.”

“His name is Slade Wilson,” he said after a bit. “And if you couldn’t tell, he’s sort of insane.”

Yeah. Bond movie bad guy, Felicity decided. With a name like that though, it was inevitable.

[goddamnchou]

Hello! I remember that a time ago you post some drafts on twitter about a kid!levi and kenny fic and a way more time ago one about vampire!levi. Do you intend to post them? I really understand if you don't, it's just that you're one of my fave fic writer and reading your writing is always a blessing.

omgg thank you anon ;___; the most recent vampire one i’ve been talking about i didn’t write anything of, but the kenny and levi one i did write some of for a day or two. i stopped after that and idk if i’ll finish it but i did write a good bit so i’ll just post it here since you asked, just fyi it cuts off suddenly

“Are you sure you wanna do this, sis?” Kenny asked, his voice stricken with a level of concern that was halfway between real and fake. “I mean, aren’t ya gonna miss the kid? A week is a long time.”

In response to his question, Kuchel - his little sister, who had stopped being little a long time ago and who he couldn’t pull the big brother card on anymore when she started bossing him around - just scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stepped into his open door, shoving a large travel bag into his arms roughly as if to demonstrate how determined she was not to take any of his shit. It made Kenny grimace, both because of what he wasn’t going to be able to get out of and because of how heavy the fucking bag was, and he closed the door behind Kuchel once she and her other delivery were safely inside.

“Of course I will.” She replied, in a sing-song voice that was directed to said package more than him - her son, Levi, who was 4 years of age and in Kenny’s opinion, too old for fucking baby talk and coddling. Unfortunately, though, his sister did not agree, as her back was to him and she was currently holding the tiny kid in her arms and kissing the side of his face, all while he stared over her shoulder at Kenny with a bored, unimpressed look. “I’ll miss him so much.”

“Kuchel!” Another voice rang out then, that of Uri, the man who for some reason liked putting up with Kenny’s shit enough to call him his partner.

They had a house that they’d bought and lived in for a while together, but because it was almost 8 hours away from Kuchel, Kenny had only had the pleasure of meeting his nephew a few times. He certainly had never babysat him, he thought with another grimace, which was what he was about to do - for an entire week. Why had he agreed to do this shit again, he wondered, when he didn’t know jack about taking care of kids? Oh right; his sister had needed the favor, and if his damned soft spot for her hadn’t convinced him all the way, Uri and the sway he too held with Kenny had made up the rest. He liked kids, Kenny knew, because his brother couldn’t keep his dick in his pants and had already given him a handful of nieces and nephews, and he for some reason thought that Levi was absolutely adorable.

Unfortunately, Kenny was not sure that he agreed. Sure, the runt was cute, he guessed, if you fell for small kids with chubby cheeks and big ears that stuck out like sore thumbs, but that shit was all just superficial. Kenny had sensed what lay behind that, had a feeling that Levi’s true nature was something diabolical and unruly, and knew that the sweet and obedient act he put on for his mother had to be just that: an act. In reality the little turd was probably the devil incarnate - all kids were, and he was an Ackerman, after all - and he could already tell his nephew was going to be a pain in his ass just from the cold glare he was still giving him over his mother’s shoulder. What the hell was his problem? Kenny wondered, scratching at his beard and watching Uri approach him and Kuchel.

“It's good to see you.” He told her, standing up onto his tiptoes to give her a kiss on both cheeks before he turned his attention to Levi. “There's the little man! Hi, Levi, do you remember me? I'm your Uncle Uri. I'm going to make sure you have so much fun while you're staying with us! Did you bring any toys?”

While Kenny fought the urge to gag and squeeze Uri to death because of his charming-to-him-but-actually-disgusting behavior, Levi turned his disinterested gaze to him as well, staring at him for several long seconds before he then buried his face in Kuchel’s shoulder.

“Sorry.” She said, while rubbing his back as Uri clapped his hands together and practically cooed like a hen. “He's shy.”

“Uh-huh.” Kenny couldn't resist uttering at that, snorting and sidling up beside Uri as if he was trying to shield him from Levi's misleading charms. “Sure.”

“Don't be like that, Kenny, look at him. He's just going to miss his mother.” Uri said though, smiling up at where Levi was still held and hiding his face but doing nothing more to get his attention.

Thankfully, Kuchel turned around too so his back was to them both, now sweeping her fingers through his hair soothingly while she spoke. “He’ll be alright. I brought a few toys, but lately he's just been fine to watch movies. His favorite one is in there, and so is his blanket. It helps him sleep through the night.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Kenny muttered at that, said under his breath but not quietly enough to keep him from getting a sharp elbow to the side from Uri and a dirty look from his sister.

“Watch your mouth around him, Kenny. If he comes back home with any new curse words, I'm gonna knock you out.” She said, in a tone that made Kenny throw up his hands defensively.

“Listen, I told you I'm not gonna swear!”

“You just did!”

“He didn't hear me! Look at him, he's not even paying attention. He's too busy crying into your shoulder.”

“He's not crying.” Kuchel told him, rolling her eyes at him again before she turned her attention back to Levi. “Are you, sweetheart? Mommy’s going to put you down now, alright? Why don’t you go put your backpack in your bedroom with Uncle Uri? I think he wants to show you something in there.”

At that, Kuchel bent to set Levi down on his own two feet like she’d said, brushing his bangs out of his face again before she stood up and he twisted his little head around to look up at Uri. Now that Kenny could see both of their expressions, the contrast in response to what Kuchel had just suggested could not have been more comical. Uri had brightened up instantly and was practically glowing, he noticed, as if showing Levi what they’d bought him in his bedroom - a bed shaped like a dinosaur at Kuchel’s recommendation, purchased specifically for this occasion even though Kenny hadn’t understood what was wrong with the old couch they had in there - was going to make his day.

Levi, on the other hand, looked disgruntled and constipated, with his tiny, thin brows drawn down and his nose scrunched up as if he found the thought of going with Uri to be like going to the damn dentist or something. Naturally, though, his shitty expression did nothing to sway Uri from his delight, which was good because he’d insisted on re-decorating Levi’s room so that he would be comfortable there, and because Kuchel had told him to, Levi had no choice but to follow him anyway, reluctantly trudging down the hall with his backpack in his arms after casting one last lingering glance at his mother.

“You need to be gentle with him, Kenny.” Kuchel said once they were out of earshot, crossing her arms and standing up straight to face him, giving him an icy look that was almost exactly identical to the one her brat had fixed at him.

“Shit.” Kenny said then, running a hand through his hair. “That thing looks just like you.”

“He’s not a ‘thing.’ He’s a little boy, and he’s sensitive. You can’t treat him like one of your bar buddies.”

“What the fuck? I’m not gonna, I told ya. It’ll be fine. I’ll sit him down and he can watch the game with me. I’ll give him a beer.”

“You can’t give him fucking beer, Kenny, he’s four!” Kuchel exclaimed at that, her voice raising in a way that made Kenny cringe. “Are you serious? He can’t have alcohol, it could ruin his development! He’s just started school, and-

“No, I’m not serious!” He all but shouted in response, holding his arms out in disbelief that she hadn’t laughed at his wisecracking. “It was a joke! You don’t gotta go all crazy mommy on me, sis, I’m not that stupid, alright? Calm down. I’m not gonna give him beer. I’ll give him liquor instead. It’ll loosen him up and we’ll get along great.”

In response to that, Kuchel just fixed him with another aggravated, scowly look, tightening her crossed arms and raising an eyebrow in response but saying nothing else. Clearly, she was completely unamused by his continued attempts at humor, and Kenny was only able to stare defiantly at her for another few seconds before he wilted and sighed.

“What do you want from me? You want me to carry him around like a damn baby the entire time like you’re doin’? Tuck him in at night and feed him with a bottle? I can’t do that, Kuchel, the kid is four for shit’s sake. When I was four, I’d already started feeding you ‘cus mom and dad weren’t there and grandpa was too old!”

“I know that.” Kuchel responded, glancing away with a frown at the mention of their parents. “That was our childhood, but that isn’t normal. I don’t want Levi’s to be like that. I want him to be able to be a kid for as long as he can before he finds out how shitty the world really is.”

God dammit. Kenny thought, pausing to stare up at the ceiling in a moment of exasperation. Why had he brought that up? Now Kuchel was getting serious with him and he could tell that this was something that meant a lot to her, and not that he didn’t sort of get it, he supposed, it was just...well, he wasn’t a fucking touchy-feely kind of guy. That was what Uri was for, but if the little shit acted like a little shit and didn’t listen to them, then what were they supposed to do? It wasn’t his fault that Kuchel thought Levi was some kind of angel when Kenny knew otherwise.

“Alright, fine. I’ll have Uri tuck him in and kiss his cheek and shit when he goes to bed. He’ll even read him a story if he wants, he loves doin’ that kinda thing, but to me it seems like Levi doesn’t want anything to do with us. Didn't you see that look he gave me when you walked in?”

“No. I told you, he's just shy. He doesn’t really know you, but he should warm up to you after a while as long as you don’t scare the shit out of him. Promise me you’ll behave?”

Snorting at the thought of Levi being scared of him, Kenny then shook his head too, waving his hands around at how Kuchel had just told him to behave like he was the demonic four year old. Why was she so worried about it, though? It wasn’t like he was going to do anything to traumatize the kid, and Uri was capable of giving him enough of that sappy, motherly attention that Kenny recoiled from for the both of them. “I don’t think I’m the one you gotta worry about behaving, but alright, sis. I promise I’ll be nice, and anyway, Uri is gonna be here like I said, so-

“I know, but he’s your nephew first.” Kuchel interrupted, her expression softening as she paused and bit her lip. She looked away again too, and hesitated while her face turned red, something that made him swear internally because it meant she was probably about to say some emotional shit that would make his skin crawl. “You could at least try and bond with him. I’ve been thinking that maybe you can get him out of his shell some. He doesn’t have many friends at school, and he needs that. He needs someone to look up to.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Kenny muttered, rubbing at his face and fighting exasperation all over again.

Was his sister serious? Why would she want her precious Levi to look up to him, of all people? He hadn’t amounted to shit and had done things that he was pretty sure condemned him to hell twice over - if there was such a place, anyway - and he didn’t think a piece of shit like him was the right person for Kuchel’s son to find a role model in. Even if he didn’t get kids or have a fatherly bone in his body, he knew Levi was more important than anything to her, and the last fucking thing he wanted was to be responsible for the kid turning out like...well, turning out like him.

She’d be disappointed if he did, Kenny thought, and he didn’t do well under pressure like that anyway. Shit, though, what could he say? Obviously Kuchel was pretty concerned about Levi’s behavior somehow if she was telling him this, and unfortunately, he’d never been able to shake the stupid, soft, protective instinct he’d developed as a kid to keep her safe and happy.

“Fine. Fine, fine fine.” He said more seriously this time, sighing in resignation. “I’ll try, but don’t come back cryin’ to me if the kid starts stealing bubblegum and sneaking out by the time he’s 10.”

“He won’t do that. I’ll make sure.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Kenny said at that, snorting in jest and reaching out to wrap an arm around Kuchel’s neck. He pulled her towards him and patted her a bit in a rough, awkward sort of hug, and stood there a moment as she just stared at him before continuing. “Don’t worry about it, alright? Me an’ Uri got this. The kid will be fine. Just go and enjoy your vacation with your girlfriend.”

At that, Kuchel immediately smacked him on the chest and pushed herself away, shushing him in a half-panic and looking over her shoulder. “Shut up, Kenny! I told you not to call her that when Levi is here. He might overhear you!”

By then, Kenny was out of expression of disbelief and exasperation, so instead he just closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Fuck. He thought. This was going to be a long, long week. Kuchel going on vacation - a cruise with her “friend” Traute, whom she had met through Kenny - wouldn’t even change that, as he had no doubt that she would find some way to check up on him whenever she could so that she could get onto him for not treating Levi like a prince or being ‘sensitive’ enough to his emotions.

She seemed to think that they were complicated despite the fact that Kenny was pretty sure Levi couldn’t even read yet - Could he wipe his ass though, he wondered? He should probably ask that before Kuchel left - as she had apparently not told Levi that she had a girlfriend yet because she wasn’t ‘sure if he was ready for that.’ She wanted to make sure he was okay with Traute or some shit first, and gave him an entire lecture about not mentioning it to her son while he was babysitting him, despite the fact that the only reason he had to do it was because Kuchel had wanted to take some kind of romantic vacation with her.

Whatever. Kenny thought, waving a hand at her and nodding as if to pretend he understood, making a mental note that he hopefully wouldn’t forget to not mention Traute as anything other than Kuchel’s friend.

By the look on her face it was clear that she wasn’t really appeased, but thankfully, Uri chose that moment to come back with the little runt trudging behind him.

“He really liked the bed.” Uri announced proudly, walking towards them with a soft, dreamy smile on his face. “And I found out he likes stories. I’m confident that he’ll let me read to him there before he goes to sleep.”

Nodding her approval, Kenny watched as Kuchel bent back down to face Levi, smiling warmly at him while she placed her hands on his tiny shoulders. “You hear that, Levi? Your uncles are going to make sure to tuck you in every night. They’ll give you your blanket and read to you until you’re sleepy, just like Mommy does. Did Uncle Uri show you the nightlight?”

Biting his lip, Levi glanced over at Uri with his eyes widened before he returned to staring at Kuchel, giving her a nod in the affirmative that he had indeed been shown the nightlight.

“Okay. So there won’t be anything to be scared of while you’re sleeping, alright?”

Nodding again, this time sullenly like he didn’t quite believe what his mother was saying, Levi frowned and looked to the ground, his expression now turning into something pouty that made his bottom lip stick out. It was because Kuchel was getting ready to leave, Kenny figured, so that she could catch her flight out to the cruise ship, and Levi could apparently tell that it was time. He was unhappy about it, obviously, and so was Kuchel, who had explained to Kenny that she’d never left Levi for this long before. Kenny didn’t think it was that big of a deal because it was just a damn week and the kid probably wouldn’t even remember this shit later, but whatever. She wasn’t going to hear that, and their goodbye took so long that Kenny had to go take a seat on the nearby couch.

Slumping down on it with his long legs stretched out in front of him, he watched Levi cling to Kuchel like she was leaving him for good, his face pressed into her clothing pitifully while she rubbed at his back and hair and hugged him close. She was murmuring shit to him too that Kenny was now too far away to overhear, but that he presumed was more baby talk and reassurances to keep him from losing it. He honestly had the air of someone who was about to cry, which, of course, was nothing that Kenny had confidence in his ability to deal with - at least in any type of way that his sister would approve of, anyway. Thankfully, though, she managed to soothe him enough so that he eventually let go of her, his now slightly red, wet cheeks coming into view when she turned him around.

“He’s alright.” She said, kissing the side of his face one last time before she wiped the beads of snot that had accumulated under his nose with a tissue. “He’s going to be brave.”

Beside him, Uri brought his hands up to his chest and smiled like he’d just witnessed a miracle while Kenny grimaced, his expression only growing worse when Uri suddenly reached down to grab something to hold onto in an awed, silent rush of emotion. Unfortunately, what he sought out happened to be Kenny’s fingers, and unfortunately, Kenny had long ago lost the strength that it took to pull away. Instead, he told himself that he was just humoring Uri and not actually thinking about how soft his hands were, but that didn’t stop his ears from burning like a stupid teenager or something when Kuchel caught sight of it and smirked wickedly.

It was the expression of a ruthless sibling who had just realized they’d just found new, embarrassing ammo to shoot the other one with, and Kenny fully expected her to start right then and there, to stand up and relentlessly tease him about it until he thought he might explode. Uri always laughed and smiled knowingly while she did that - which did not fucking help - but thankfully, she instead focused on getting out the door, giving Uri a hug and a kiss on the cheek while uttering some last minute instructions about what kind of food Levi liked before saying goodbye to him for good, the look she gave Kenny giving him no doubt that she was just going to file that shit away for later.

Look how soft you are. He could almost hear her saying. What happened to my brother, who used to say he didn’t need anyone?

Scowling at the imaginary conversation he was now having in his head - When had he ever said he needed Uri? He hadn’t; he just chose to have him around because he wanted to - Kenny gave his sister another quick, rowdy hug before she left, mumbling something to her about having a good time before she was gone. She’d given Levi one more wave before she’d walked out the door and told him to be good, and Kenny found that he could not give the kid any shit for the stricken look on his face when he suddenly felt a similar emotion inside too.

Shit. He thought, absentmindedly scrubbing his fingers through his beard again. What the fuck did he do now? What should he get the kid, if anything? Food? Water? Milk? Why wasn’t he talking? He was just standing there, and he hadn’t said a single thing in Kenny’s presence since he’d walked in, he realized, but he was pretty sure he was old enough to speak. He had heard him say shit to Kuchel once before, hadn’t he?

“Hey, kid.” He said at that thought, swallowing the trepidation - he wasn’t going to be intimidated by a toddler, that was ridiculous - when they all remained silent for a few more seconds and Uri looked at him expectantly. He motioned for him to do something encouragingly too, but Levi, on the other hand, was eyeing them both with that shitty stare on his face again. He looked sinister, in fact, like he was standing there plotting all of the ways he was going to misbehave and wreck Kenny and Uri’s house, but he had to say something, he guessed. “You remember me, don’t’cha? I’m your Uncle Kenny. Are you gonna behave for us while your mom’s gone?”

As he’d spoken, Kenny had crouched down in front of Levi like he’d seen Kuchel do, draping his arms over his legs casually and doing his best to look him in the eye even though he was still about a foot above his head. In response, naturally, the kid just kept staring at him, his eyes looking him up and down once like he was fucking sizing him up or something before, surprisingly, he finally did speak.

“You’re not my dad.” He declared, in an obstinate tone that made Kenny frown.

“No shit.” He responded, snorting loudly and crudely in a way that caused Levi to make a face. “That’s a good thing. Your dad was a worthless, no good son of a bitch fuckwad, and-

“Kenny!” Uri hissed at that, interrupting him by shoving his bony elbow into the side of his shoulder as best he could.

Oh right, he remembered. He wasn’t supposed to curse.