#group ( seattle grace )

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The majority of censorship is self-censorship

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!

I know a lot of polymaths, but Ada Palmer takes the cake: brilliant science fiction writer, brilliant historian, brilliant librettist, brilliant singer, and then some:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/10/monopoly-begets-monopoly/#terra-ignota

Palmer is a friend and a colleague. In 2018, she, Adrian Johns and I collaborated on "Censorship, Information Control, & Information Revolutions from Printing Press to Internet," a series of grad seminars at the U Chicago History department (where Ada is a tenured prof, specializing in the Inquisition and Renaissance forbidden knowledge):

https://ifk.uchicago.edu/research/faculty-fellow-projects/censorship-information-control-information-revolutions-from-printing-press/

The project had its origins in a party game that Ada and I used to play at SF conventions: Ada would describe a way that the Inquisitions' censors attacked the printing press, and I'd find an extremely parallel maneuver from governments, the entertainment industry or other entities from the much more recent history of internet censorship battles.

With the seminars, we took it to the next level. Each 3h long session featured a roster of speakers from many disciplines, explaining everything from how encryption works to how white nationalists who were radicalized in Vietnam formed an armored-car robbery gang to finance modems and Apple ][+s to link up neo-Nazis across the USA.

We borrowed the structure of these sessions from science fiction conventions, home to a very specific kind of panel that doesn't always work, but when it does, it's fantastic. It was a natural choice: after all, Ada and I know each other through science fiction.

Even if you're not an sf person, you've probably heard of the Hugo Awards, the most prestigious awards in the field, voted on each year by attendees of the annual World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon). And even if you're not an sf fan, you might have heard about a scandal involving the Hugo Awards, which were held last year in China, a first:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/science-fiction-authors-excluded-hugo-awards-china-rcna139134

A little background: each year's Worldcon is run by a committee of volunteers. These volunteers put together bids to host the Worldcon, and canvass Worldcon attendees to vote in favor of their bid. For many years, a group of Chinese fans attempted to field a successful bid to host a Worldcon, and, eventually, they won.

At the time, there were many concerns: about traveling to a country with a poor human rights record and a reputation for censorship, and about the logistics of customary Worldcon attendees getting visas. During this debate, many international fans pointed to the poor human rights record in the USA (which has hosted the vast majority of Worldcons since their inception), and the absolute ghastly rigmarole the US government subjects many foreign visitors to when they seek visas to come to the US for conventions.

Whatever side of this debate you came down on, it couldn't be denied that the Chinese Worldcon rang a lot of alarm-bells. Communications were spotty, and then the con was unceremoniously rescheduled for months after the original scheduled date, without any good explanation. Rumors swirled of Chinese petty officials muscling their way into the con's administration.

But the real alarm bells started clanging after the Hugo Award ceremony. Normally, after the Hugos are given out, attendees are given paper handouts tallying the nominations and votes, and those numbers are also simultaneously published online. Technically, the Hugo committee has a grace period of some weeks before this data must be published, but at every Worldcon I've attended over the past 30+ years, I left the Hugos with a data-sheet in my hand.

Then, in early December, at the very last moment, the Hugo committee released its data – and all hell broke loose. Numerous, acclaimed works had been unilaterally "disqualified" from the ballot. Many of these were written by writers from the Chinese diaspora, but some works – like an episode of Neil Gaiman's Sandman – were seemingly unconnected to any national considerations.

Readers and writers erupted in outrage, demanding to know what had happened. The Hugo administrators – Americans and Canadians who'd volunteered in those roles for many years and were widely viewed as being members in good standing of the community – were either silent or responded with rude and insulting remarks. One thing they didn't do was explain themselves.

The absence of facts left a void that rumors and speculation rushed in to fill. Stories of Chinese official censorship swirled online, and along with them, a kind of I-told-you-so: China should never have been home to a Worldcon, the country's authoritarian national politics are fundamentally incompatible with a literary festival.

As the outrage mounted and the scandal breached from the confines of science fiction fans and writers to the wider world, more details kept emerging. A damning set of internal leaks revealed that it was those long-serving American and Canadian volunteers who decided to censor the ballot. They did so out of a vague sense that the Chinese state would visit some unspecified sanction on the con if politically unpalatable works appeared on the Hugo ballot. Incredibly, they even compiled clumsy dossiers on nominees, disqualifying one nominee out of a mistaken belief that he had once visited Tibet (it was actually Nepal).

There's no evidence that the Chinese state asked these people to do this. Likewise, it wasn't pressure from the Chinese state that caused them to throw out hundreds of ballots cast by Chinese fans, whom they believed were voting for a "slate" of works (it's not clear if this is the case, but slate voting is permitted under Hugo rules).

All this has raised many questions about the future of the Hugo Awards, and the status of the awards that were given in China. There's widespread concern that Chinese fans involved with the con may face state retaliation due to the negative press that these shenanigans stirred up.

But there's also a lot of questions about censorship, and the nature of both state and private censorship, and the relationship between the two. These are questions that Ada is extremely well-poised to answer; indeed, they're the subject of her book-in-progress, entitled Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet.

In a magisterial essay for Reactor, Palmer stakes out her central thesis: "The majority of censorship is self-censorship, but the majority of self-censorship is intentionally cultivated by an outside power":

https://reactormag.com/tools-for-thinking-about-censorship/

States – even very powerful states – that wish to censor lack the resources to accomplish totalizing censorship of the sort depicted in Nineteen Eighty-Four. They can't go from house to house, searching every nook and cranny for copies of forbidden literature. The only way to kill an idea is to stop people from expressing it in the first place. Convincing people to censor themselves is, "dollar for dollar and man-hour for man-hour, much cheaper and more impactful than anything else a censorious regime can do."

Ada invokes examples modern and ancient, including from her own area of specialty, the Inquisition and its treatment of Gailileo. The Inquistions didn't set out to silence Galileo. If that had been its objective, it could have just assassinated him. This was cheap, easy and reliable! Instead, the Inquisition persecuted Galileo, in a very high-profile manner, making him and his ideas far more famous.

But this isn't some early example of Inquisitorial Streisand Effect. The point of persecuting Galileo was to convince Descartes to self-censor, which he did. He took his manuscript back from the publisher and cut the sections the Inquisition was likely to find offensive. It wasn't just Descartes: "thousands of other major thinkers of the time wrote differently, spoke differently, chose different projects, and passed different ideas on to the next century because they self-censored after the Galileo trial."

This is direct self-censorship, where people are frightened into silencing themselves. But there's another form of censorship, which Ada calls "middlemen censorship." That's when someone other than the government censors a work because they fear what the government would do if they didn't. Think of Scholastic's cowardly decision to pull inclusive, LGBTQ books out of its book fair selections even though no one had ordered them to do so:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/06/books/scholastic-book-racism-maggie-tokuda-hall.html

This is a form of censorship outsourcing, and it "multiplies the manpower of a censorship system by the number of individuals within its power." The censoring body doesn't need to hire people to search everyone's houses for offensive books – it can frighten editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers and librarians into suppressing the books in the first place.

This outsourcing blurs the line between state and private surveillance. Think about comics. After a series of high-profile Congressional hearings about the supposed danger of comics to impressionable young minds, the comics industry undertook a regime of self-censorship, through which the private Comics Code Authority would vet comings for "dangerous" content before allowing its seal of approval to appear on the comics' covers. Distributors and retailers refused to carry books without a CCA stamp, so publishers refused to publish books unless they could get a CCA stamp.

The CCA was unaccountable, capricious – and racist. By the 60s and 70s, it became clear that comic about Black characters were subjected to much tighter scrutiny than comics featuring white heroes. The CCA would reject "a drop of sweat on the forehead of a Black astronaut as 'too graphic' since it 'could be mistaken for blood.'" Every comic that got sent back by the CCA meant long, brutal reworkings by writers and illustrators to get them past the censors.

The US government never censored heroes like Black Panther, but the chain of events that created the CCA "middleman censors" made sure that Black Panther appeared in far fewer comics starring Marvel's most prominent Black character. An analysis of censorship that tries to draw a line between private and public censorship would say that the government played no role in Black Panther's banishment to obscurity – but without Congressional action, Black Panther would never have faced censorship.

This is why attempts to cleanly divide public and private censorship always break down. Many people will tell you that when Twitter or Facebook blocks content they disagree with, that's not censorship, since censorship is government action, and these are private actors. What they mean is that Twitter and Facebook censorship doesn't violate the First Amendment, but it's perfectly possible to infringe on free speech without violating the US Constitution. What's more, if the government fails to prevent monopolization of our speech forums – like social media – and also declines to offer its own public speech forums that are bound to respect the First Amendment, we can end up with government choices that produce an environment in which some ideas are suppressed wherever they might find an audience – all without violating the Constitution:

https://locusmag.com/2020/01/cory-doctorow-inaction-is-a-form-of-action/

The great censorious regimes of the past – the USSR, the Inquisition – left behind vast troves of bureaucratic records, and these records are full of complaints about the censors' lack of resources. They didn't have the manpower, the office space, the money or the power to erase the ideas they were ordered to suppress. As Ada notes, "In the period that Spain’s Inquisition was wildly out of Rome’s control, the Roman Inquisition even printed manuals to guide its Inquisitors on how to bluff their way through pretending they were on top of what Spain was doing!"

Censors have always done – and still do – their work not by wielding power, but by projecting it. Even the most powerful state actors are not powerful enough to truly censor, in the sense of confiscating every work expressing an idea and punishing everyone who creates such a work. Instead, when they rely on self-censorship, both by individuals and by intermediaries. When censors act to block one work and not another, or when they punish one transgressor while another is free to speak, it's tempting to think that they are following some arcane ruleset that defines when enforcement is strict and when it's weak. But the truth is, they censor erratically because they are too weak to censor comprehensively.

Spectacular acts of censorship and punishment are a performance, "to change the way people act and think." Censors "seek out actions that can cause the maximum number of people to notice and feel their presence, with a minimum of expense and manpower."

The censor can only succeed by convincing us to do their work for them. That's why drawing a line between state censorship and private censorship is such a misleading exercise. Censorship is, and always has been, a public-private partnership.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Left Unsaid

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst (happy ending!), sex, fingering, explicit language, surgery times (duh), (let me know if I missed anything!) Word count: 1.8k

Summary: You used to be Dr. Shepherd's favorite resident, but something had happened in the last month that drove you further apart than ever. Will it get resolved (hint: yes, it does)?

“You, out!���

You stood, flabbergasted, in full scrub, suctioning blood out of someone’s brain-deep head wound. The OR had gone deathly silent, and if they could’ve seen your face under your surgical mask, they would have seen you blushing bright red.

All you’d done was ask a question. All you’d wanted to know was why Dr. Shepherd had gone after the brain bleed at the angle she did, because it wasn’t the angle you’d expected. You were a surgical resident. Asking questions is what you were supposed to do.

“Dr. Shepherd, I–”

“Uh-uh. You? Out of here. You’re distracting me, Y/L/N. And if you can’t focus on saving this man’s life, you don’t need to be in here.”

Frustrated and more than a little embarrassed, you handed off the suction tube to another resident and quickly burst through the doors and into the scrub room, washing your hands furiously. You felt like crying. You didn’t know what was going on these days.

During your intern year, you’d gotten really close with Dr. Shepherd. She’d sort of take you under her wing, said you had the right mind and hands for neuro. You worked well together, almost read each other’s thoughts sometimes, it seemed. But the last month or so, she’d all but banished you from her service.

You knew part of it had to be Webber’s new initiative for “well-rounded surgeons,” a new protocol where residents were cycled between attendings at random, with no favoritism or preference allowed. But even when you were assigned to neuro, Dr. Shepherd always put you on the other neurosurgeon’s service. She hardly talked to you at all.

You wondered if you’d done something wrong, something to completely ruin the mentorship–no, the friendship–you’d felt like you were forming with Dr. Shepherd. Not only did you miss her company, miss working with her, but you missed neuro.

You spent the rest of your day on neuro doing glorified scut alongside the interns. Humiliating. And when you finally went home, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and order Chinese food. But a text from your cohort group chat reminded you that tonight was the annual Surgeons for Surgeons benefit gala. And unless you wanted to be fired, you’d have to show up, bells on, ready to mix and mingle and convince Seattle’s rich and famous to donate to the program that connected Seattle-Grace with its partner hospital in Nairobi.

You stared at yourself in the mirror before leaving. Thanks to a very artful layer of makeup, you looked a little less exhausted than you really were. And you had to admit, you looked good in a suit.

By the time you and your friends arrived at the gala, things were in full swing. Wine, music, twinkling lights, the whole shebang. You were determined to have fun with your friends, despite whatever weird stuff was going on with Dr. Shepherd. You’d had a few glasses of wine, had danced with a few other residents, and had generally avoided Dr. Shepherd, even though once or twice you’d caught her watching you. Let her feel bad, you thought. She was out of line.

But when you were on your way back from the bathroom, a hand shot out of a hallway and gently grabbed your arm.

“Jesus, Dr. Shepherd,” you complained, straightening your suit as she crossed her arms and looked at you, leaning against the hallway wall.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You just…” She threw up her hands. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. I didn’t know how else to talk to you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve been avoiding you!?” You scoffed. “Dr. Shepherd, you haven’t talked to me in over a month. I went from being the de facto neuro resident to being bottom of the barrel in your OR. So forgive me if I’m not jumping at the opportunity to chat with you.”

Dr. Shepherd looked at the ground. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You sighed. “Look, I don’t care if we’re friends, okay? I– I would have liked it. I like you. But my career comes first. And whatever’s going on with us got in the way of that today. So whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry. Okay? But I love neuro. And I’m good at it. You don’t have to talk to me ever, outside of work, but you cannot keep me from surgery.”

You started to walk away, but she stopped you.

“Y/N!” she called, grabbing your hand and holding it for just a moment too long. You were taken aback by her use of your first name. She always called you Dr. Y/L/N. “I don’t want that.”

“Okay…” You shrugged. “So put me back on your service.”

“No, I mean…” She exhaled sharply and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to be friends with you.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. You liked Dr. Shepherd. You really liked her. You thought she’d liked you. You thought that in another life… But it didn’t matter now.

“Message received,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“God, that’s not what I meant. I’m fucking this up.” She looked at you almost like she was in pain. As if there were words she just couldn’t get out. “What the hell,” she finally mumbled, then grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you.

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. But her lips felt so good against yours, her hands warm and soft against your skin. This was what Dr. Shepherd had wanted with you, why she’d been avoiding you. And, if you were honest with yourself, it was what you’d wanted to, you’d just been too scared to let yourself admit it.

You wrapped your arms around her waist, pressing her into the wall to deepen the kiss. She whined into your mouth, her tongue fighting for entrance, and you knew–by the arousal shooting down through your very core, the wetness pooling in your underwear–that this would not end here tonight. Amelia’s arms snaked underneath your blazer, searching for skin.

“Why do you have so many clothes on?” Amelia muttered breathlessly, painstakingly unbuttoning the collar of your dress shirt, then continuing on to the lower ones.

“Whoa!” You grabbed her wrists, pushing them away. “We’re in a public hallway, Dr. Shepherd.”

She huffed, pulling you by the arm into the closest room, which turned out to be some poor soul’s vacated office at this event venue. She slammed the door, taking her own turn to push you against a surface. It took your breath away.

“Don’t call me Dr. Shepherd when we’re about to have sex,” she said, trailing kisses down your neck.

“Fine, Amelia,” you retorted, and she smiled into a kiss. She liked a little sass in a woman.

With one hand, you rolled her nipple between your fingers. With the other, you moved slowly down her body, gently pulling up her dress to slip a hand into her underwear.

She gasped as you brushed lightly over her clit. “Fuck,” she breathed, throwing her head back. You smiled, happy to have a little power. Amelia might have all the power in the OR, but you had all the power here. You could tell by the way her hips rolled toward you, by the way she leaned heavily on the desk at her back–she wanted you bad.

She breathed heavily, squeezing your arms as she pushed her hips into you, desperate for the friction, the pressure. You grinned wickedly and removed your hand, licking her arousal off your fingers.

“Y/N!” she protested, glaring at you.

“Hmm.” You pretended to be thinking deeply, circling the rest of her vulva so that you were close, so close, to where she needed you, but not quite there. “You know what? I bet this feels a lot like being knee deep in a surgery and then being pulled for no reason at all.”

“I said I was sorry! Please, Y/N.” You had her squirming and writhing and you were getting drunk off her desperation.

You pushed two of your fingers into her warmth, already so wet, so ready for you, and she moaned. “I mean, I guess, if you insist.” You smirked at her, loving to see her lose control. She was always so in control at work. It was honestly something you admired about her. But right now? All you wanted was to see her coming apart.

There was a part of you that wanted to tell all the residents, to tell everyone that you were fucking Dr. Amelia Shepherd. But there was another part of you–deeper, softer, more you–that wanted to keep her all to yourself. Because some part of you knew that it wasn’t just sex, no matter how much easier it’d be if it was.

Amelia’s breathing grew ragged, her walls pulsing around you and you knew she was close. You circled her clit with your thumb, and she thrust her hips up into your touch, chest heaving, legs shaking. And when she finally, finally hit her peak, you scooped your arm around her back to hold her up, keeping your rhythm steady until she came down, resting her head on your shoulder, a thin sheen of sweat on her face.

“Fuck!” she breathed, lifting her head to grin at you and tuck your hair behind your hair. “Your hands.”

“That’s why I’m such a good surgeon.” You winked at her.

“That’s why you’re good at a number of things, apparently.” Amelia pulled her underwear up, straightening her dress.

“Well,” she shrugged. “Should we go back in?”

You scoffed. “I’m certainly not.”

“Why?!”

“Are you kidding me!? There’s a fucking lake in my underwear right now. I gotta go home.”

Amelia smirked, pulling you down by your collar for another kiss. You couldn’t take much more of this. You needed her. Or a vibrator. Or a dildo. Or something.

“You want help?” she asked, playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

You blushed. The tables had turned all of a sudden, and she was the one with the power now. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Yeah, that’d be… that’d be good.”

She laced her hand in yours, squeezing it. “Take me home, Dr. Y/L/N.”

“What if someone sees us!?” you hissed, looking both ways out the office door.

“We’ll slip out the back.”

“Sneaky.” You nodded. “I like this side of you.”

Glancing furtively around, she leaned forward and sunk her teeth into your neck, taking you by surprise. You gasped.

She pressed her lips against your ear. “I’ve got a lot of sides you haven’t seen yet.”

God, you couldn’t wait to see them.

[hugshughes]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝐓𝐖𝐎 - 𝐓𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝! 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝.

𝐰𝐜 - 𝟐𝐤 𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐡𝐡 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 - 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐭!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩! 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭��𝐭𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈’𝐦 𝐛𝐪𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐡𝐡𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑!!! 𝐈𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒! 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐎𝐇 𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐒𝐎 𝐈𝐌 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑!!! 𝐟𝐲𝐢! 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @alwaysclassyeagle

-

real life! january 15th, 2024. 11:49pm EST

"Everyone's gonna hate it."

"Will you shut the fuck up please?"

You gigged, throwing your head back. You were in your living room of your New York house, surrounded in a group of friends and family. Your brother and sister-in-law had even come out all the way from Seattle. You sat crisscrossed on the rug, your phone bussing relentlessly against your thigh. The album dropped in 11 minutes.

You stood from your spot on the rug, sliding across the hardwoods in your socks to the kitchen. You opened your fridge and pulled out the bottles of champagne, alcoholic and not, you'd picked for the album drop.

You heard your name called from behind you, turning around and seeing your big brother.

"Oh hey!"

"Hey. It's stupid and sappy but I just wanted to tell you I'm really proud of you for this. So impressed that my little sister is way more popular and talented than me."

You giggled, your heart warming.

"Thank you, seriously. And you could probably be a famous tiktoker or something, just drop my name and immediately you get a million views!"

He rolled his eyes, barking out a laugh, coming around the counter. He grabbed the four bottles from the counter and left to go back to the living room. You quickly grabbed enough glasses for the group, carefully juggling them all in your hands as you walk back to the living room.

Released songs of yours were playing from the surround sound system in the living room, a countdown clock on the TV. There was just over 5 minutes left until everyone had your album.

Your friends sung along as Cruel Summer ended. You smiled at the amount of love filling the room. The smile that graced your face faltered when you heard the opening of The Cut That Always Bleeds. It was one of your most famous songs, but still hurt to hear, even more so to sing.

'cause if you're gonna leave, better leave, better do it fast. can't live a little longer sitting on your lap.

Your best friend stiffened upon hearing the lyrics, turning to find you by the door. She gave you a distressed look, mouthing, 'wanna turn it?' to you. You shook your head, giving her a forced smile. It was your song anyway, you couldn't hide from it.

You shook off the feeling the song gave you, setting all of the champagne glasses down.

"Okay, five minutes left! Um, I just want to thank you guys for coming! You guys are my favorite people and my biggest supporters. So yeah, thanks!"

Your friends all made noises of agreements, your sister-in-law hugging you.

"I know this song hurts you, girl. But shit, are your vocals something else on it."

You giggled, grinning widely at her. She was one of your favorite people in the world. You'd known her since you were 15, and she and your brother were both 19.

"I love you. Oh wait, I have a secret to tell you!"

Her eyes widened, nodding eagerly at you.

"Tell me now!"

You leaned closer, whispering into her ear.

"Deluxe version of Persuasion drops February 1st."

She pulled away from you, jaw dropping.

"You're joking! Are you serious? Oh my gosh!"

You giggled, nodding repeatedly at her. She was the second person other than your recording/producing crew and your agent who knew. Only your best friend, who now sat across the room giving you a smirk, also knew.

Someone shouted '90 seconds!' from across the living room, causing your skin to prick with goosebumps. Shit, were you nervous. Cruel Summer began when there were roughly 45 seconds left until the drop, making you feel better.

You watched as the timer ran down, an uncertain feeling running through you. Sure, you were so excited to be releasing new music. But, some of the song were personal, some were about Mat.

Your living room erupted as the clock hit midnight, your best friend jumping to grab the TV remote, opening the Apple Music app and searching for Persuasion. Your friends hugged you, cheering as your brother handed you a champagne bottle to pop open. You messily poured tall glasses over your coffee table as you heard Happier Than Ever start playing from the TV.

No one except for you, your manager, and your producers had heard Persuasion all the way through. Even your best friend had only heard a few of the tracks. She made it so the lyrics were on the TV, and your friends watched intently as the song played.

You stared at the TV, downing your second glass of champagne when you caught pitiful glances when you heard 'You clearly weren't aware that you made me miserable.' Everyone in the room knew the details of your relationship with Mat, clearly.

Your best friend's smile widened at Happier Than Ever ended, knowing her favorite of the few she'd heard was next. All-American Bitch. She stood from her place on your couch, sauntering over to you. She pulled you up from your spot, beckoning all your friends up to the carpet. When the base drops, they all start dancing around, jumping up and down. They look uncoordinated and silly, but it's sweet all the same. You give up your cool girl front and sing along, dancing with no cares.

You all danced and sang as the album kept playing. By the time Teenage Dream came on, you laid on the couch with your head in your drunk best friend's lap. It was nearing 1am as you walked your friends out to Ubers.

You sat on your couch alone after sending your brother and sister-in-law to bed in the guest room. The album was now only quietly playing on loop from the TV, Memories echoing through the first floor. You shut off the TV, grabbing your phone for the first time in a little while. You saw texts from many of your friends, family, and a couple from your manager. She congratulated you and said to call her in the morning. She had only sent it a few minutes before so you quickly texted back, asking if she wanted to call tonight.

Your phone started ringing, and you quickly swiped to answer.

"Hi!"

"Hi love! The album is already going off! There's so much love for it! And I wanted to let you know that we let Ellie stay up to listen and she loved it."

Ellie was your managers 7 year old daughter, and one of your favorite people.

"Oh my goodness! I'm so glad, I'll have to talk to her about it soon. And yeah, I mean I just picked up my phone for the first time since before the drop and wow, I'm like completely blowing up."

"Because this album is to die for!"

You giggled, your manager's British accent always made you smile.

"Oh right! The reason I need to call you. So, I know this is a lot, and I know you might not want to and that's completely fine."

She paused, your eyebrows scrunched. Huh?

"But, I just had some people reach out earlier tonight and the NHL has invited you to be one of the celebrity coaches for the NHL All-Star Series."

Holy shit. What? The NHL wanted you?

"Seriously? Holy fuck."

"I know, I know. Obviously Mathew will be there but I think it would be a bad bitch move personally. You'd be on Team Hughes is what they told me, and you'd perform during halftime at one of the games."

"Okay, that's so crazy. Wow, um-"

Your manager cut you off before anything else could leave your mouth.

"Oh, also! Can't believe I forgot, but, Tate is also doing it! The celebrities get announced in a couple days. The 20th I believe, and your invitation was pretty last minute because whomever was set up to be there before had to drop it. I understand if you don't want to, but it'd be good for the album, and your brand."

You were unsure, but the voice in your head was screaming fuck Mathew Barzal and you decided to agree with it.

"You know what, yeah! This'll be fun, I mean I still love hockey. I didn't let him ruin it for me. And if Tate's going that makes two singers with less famous NHL exes as celebrity captains."

"Yes! Awesome, I knew you'd want to. I'll confirm with them in the morning. I love you! Persuasion is amazing and beautiful. Goodnight sweetheart."

You told her you loved her and goodnight before hanging up. Holy shit, you were seriously doing this.

-

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Liked by NHL, and 75,826 others

yourusername Persuasion is out now! I cannot believe the immense support the album has already recieved! Thank you all so so much, you are my everythings. Hopefully Persuasion can comfort the lonely and help explain me! I love you all, more to come soon ⭐️🤍🫂

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26 minutes ago

taylorswift I'M OBSESSED

tatemcrae MY BABY SO TALENTEDDDDD

user1 what is the NHL doing here?

haileybeiber Mamaaa❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

yourusername added to their story!

twitter

[oneshotnewbie]

Could I please have an imagine where the reader is somehow related to Travis and is transferred to station 19. When she meets everyone they all immediately like her. As time goes on Vic notices herself feeling weird around the reader. She tries to ignore the butterflies she feels and just starts acting weird. The others notice this, but only Maya figures out why. She tries to convince Vic to admit her feelings. And she does so after the reader gets hurt. Fluffy and angsty please?

ᕚ---ᕘ

The golden rays of the mid-morning sun slowly began to obscure the view as the wailing song of ambulance sirens permeated the busy streets of Seattle. Travis Montgomery, a veteran firefighter from the venerable Station 19, steered the emergency vehicle through the maze of streets with calm determination. His eyes were focused on the asphalt as his mind wandered to thoughts of the new recruit's impending arrival. Inside him, the anticipation of the upcoming reinforcements weighed against the uncertainty and excitement that came with each new addition. But Travis was confident that the team would receive a valuable addition to meet the challenges of the coming missions.

For several days, Travis and his comrades had been looking forward to the arrival of their new team member. The atmosphere in the station was electric, full of eager anticipation and quiet speculation about the person who would soon join their team. Yet in all their excitement and imagination, they had no idea of the deep, hidden connection their newest member shared with Travis.

Unbeknownst to them, this new recruit had a history with him that went far beyond the professional. A story that lay hidden in the unexplored depths of the past, now waiting to be revealed.

The ambulance slid smoothly into the fire department yard, accompanied by a muffled crunch as it came to a stop. Travis, fueled by excitement, jumped energetically out of the ambulance and rushed over to help unload the equipment. The other members of the team were already gathered outside, their gestures and looks full of anticipation for the arrival of the new team member.

Amid the hustle and bustle of unloading and preparation, an atmosphere of curiosity permeated the air. Everyone felt the tension that came with meeting a new member of the team and the hope that this person would enrich and strengthen the dynamic of the group.

As Travis and the others went about their work getting everything ready for the reception, they couldn't wait to finally meet you, who would soon complete their firefighter family. They waited anxiously to see who would walk through the door and how this new dynamic would shape their work and relationships.

With a sudden screech of tires, the sound pierced the air, and Travis's heart began to pulse to the rhythm of the excited drumbeats as a car rounded the corner. The door of the vehicle swung open and a young woman emerged from it. You radiated an aura of determination, tall and regal, your hair dancing wildly in the wind as a lively smile graced your lips.

Travis found himself unable to tear his gaze away from you as you gracefully walked towards him. “Hey, Trav!” came your cheerful voice as he walked up to you and wrapped you in a warm hug. "It's so great to see you again."

The rest of the team watched the scene with curious but confused looks as he took you in his embrace and placed a tentative kiss on your cheek. To them, you were a stranger, and the way you hugged and spoke to Travis sparked a mystery in their minds that was waiting to be solved.

Travis cleared his throat gently and then turned to his assembled colleagues, his arm lingering on your shoulder. “Guys, allow me to introduce you to my sister, y/n,” he explained with a wide, proud grin. "She will be part of our team from today."

A quiet murmur of surprise ran through the ranks of firefighters as they realized he had a sister they had never known about. But this surprise quickly gave way to joy when they noticed your lively charisma and intoxicating smile.

"My God, Travis, why didn't you ever tell us about her?" exclaimed Jack Gibson, one of the most experienced firefighters, his eyes full of admiration and curiosity. Travis shrugged slightly, his grin beaming from ear to ear as he let his gaze wander over to you. "I thought a little surprise would be nice," he replied with a mischievous wink.

Vic Hughes, the firefighter with the vivacious spirit and a heart of gold, was among the first to wrap her arms around you. "Welcome to the team, y/n! It's really great to meet you," her voice echoed with enthusiasm as she hugged you tightly. "I can't wait to work side by side with you."

Andy Herrera, the respected leader of the station and a source of inspiration to all, looked at you with a benevolent smile. "Travis told us absolutely nothing about you," she said warmly with a giggle. "But it's wonderful to finally meet you and work with you."

Ben Warren, the former surgeon who decided to pursue his calling as a firefighter, was impressed by your expertise and dedication. Although he had heard a lot about you from the Los Angeles Fire Department, he had never thought that you could be Travis' little sister. “It’s rare to find someone with your level of experience and passion for this profession,” he remarked appreciatively, extending a hand to you, which you gratefully accepted. "We feel truly blessed to have you among our ranks."

Dean Miller, the quiet and thoughtful firefighter, also quickly found a connection with you. “If you ever need help or have questions, I’m here for you,” he assured you with a warm smile. "We stick together, no matter what."

Travis watched with a pride that made his heart swell as his team immediately welcomed you into their community. It was a relief for him to see how smoothly you fit into the dynamic of the station and how strong the bonds of togetherness were already at that moment.

The warm welcome from other team members enveloped you like a warm hug as you were invited to join them and explore the station. It quickly became clear that you were not only Travis' sister, but also an experienced firefighter who was eager to join the new team. They roamed the corridors of the station together with you, and Travis could feel a deep gratitude welling up within him. It was a moment of fullness in which he realized that he could now share not only his passion for his job, but also a part of his family with his closest friends.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Known for her determination and fiery personality, Vic Hughes usually felt confident in any situation. But ever since your appearance at Station 19, she began to feel in a way that confused herself.

It started subtly, with an unusual fluttering of her heart whenever she was near you. Vic tried to ignore these sensations and instead concentrate on her work, but the more time she spent with you, the more intense the butterflies in her stomach became.

She noticed how her thoughts revolved around you more and more often, how she looked forward to every meeting with you and eagerly waited to see you again when you were apart. But Vic didn't know how to deal with these feelings. She had never felt for a woman before, and the fact that it was you, her best friends sister, only made things more complicated.

In her confusion, Vic began to behave in unusual ways. She avoided your gaze and tried to stay away from you, worried that her feelings for you would become too obvious. A reserve and aloofness began to appear in her behavior, which did not go unnoticed by the other team members.

Maya Bishop, the station's mindful soul, sensed the tension between Vic and you and decided to talk to her about it. When the blonde found her alone in the locker room, she carefully put her concern into words: "Is everything okay, Vic?"

Vic hesitated for a moment before answering, her gaze avoiding Maya's eyes. "Yes, everything is fine," she murmured quietly and with gentle determination, Maya placed a hand on Vic's shoulder, forcing her to look at her. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Her voice was calm and supportive. "If something is bothering you, let me know. We are here to support each other."

Vic sighed heavily and lowered her gaze to the floor. "It's just... I don't know how to deal with it," she finally confessed. "With these feelings that I have for someone."

The blonde raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "For someone? Who do you mean?" Maya tried to encourage Vic to talk. She hesitated again before answering, her voice barely audible. “For y/n,” she finally murmured and Maya's eyes widened in surprise as she realized what her friend had meant. "Oh," she said quietly, trying to hide her surprise. "And how do you feel about that?"

Vic shrugged, unable to organize her thoughts. "Confused, I guess," she finally replied. "I've never felt this way before and it's driving me crazy."

Maya placed her hand reassuringly on Vic's shoulder again and smiled reassuringly. "It's okay to be confused," she said softly. "Give yourself time to figure out what you're really feeling. And remember, we're all here for you, no matter what."

She nodded slowly, grateful for the blondes support. She knew she still had a long way to go to deal with her feelings for you, but she knew she could do it. She resolved to no longer ignore her feelings, but to bravely face them before she confessed them to you.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Weeks passed as Vic continued to remain silent and distance herself from you. Station 19 was in turmoil when the team was called to an urgent emergency call. The report of a man who got into a dangerous fire situation while under the influence of alcohol had everyone ready to go into the danger zone to save lives.

Victoria Hughes felt the tension in the air as she prepared for the mission ahead. The thoughts of you being in danger made her heart beat faster and she fought against the rising fear. Yet at the same time she was determined to protect you at all costs.

The mission turned out to be dangerous and full of unexpected challenges. As you and Vic bravely tried to save the alcoholic man from the flames and fight the fire, the situation spiraled out of control. The man became aggressive towards you and attacked you when you tried to calm him down. In the scuffle that followed, you were thrown against a pillar, which gave way above you and buried you beneath it.

A moment of pure panic gripped Vic as she saw you buried beneath the rubble. She fought desperately against the aggressive attacker to protect herself and at the same time rush to your aid. But despite her tireless efforts, the situation seemed hopeless and Vic felt overwhelmed and helpless.

When the team finally subdued the man and you were carried injured out of the burning building and to safety, a wave of relief ran through her, followed by an intense feeling of despair. She could no longer deny how much you meant to her, time was too short, and in that moment she knew it was time to face her true feelings.

After the mission was successfully completed and they were all safely back in the station, Vic came to see you. She found you in the infirmary, surrounded by Carina and Warren, stabilized, albeit with a few bruises and scratches on your face. Her hands shook with excitement as she approached you, but she forced herself to remain outwardly calm.

“Y/n, there’s something I need to tell you,” Vic started nervously as her eyes met yours and waited for the two doctors to left your area. Her voice was gentle, but her words carried a weight of emotion. "I... I have feelings for you, y/n. Strong feelings that I can't deny anymore."

A hint of surprise crossed your face, followed by a warm smile. “Vic, I’ve felt this for a while,” you confessed quietly. "And I have feelings for you too. I just wanted you to start so I wouldn't look like an idiot if I misinterpreted something."

An indescribable feeling of joy filled Vic's heart when she heard your words that she had suppressed for so long. She hugged you tightly, and in that intimate moment she knew she had finally found the courage to face her deepest feelings. As you held each other in your arms, you both felt the certainty that this was the beginning of something special - a love strong enough to overcome the greatest challenges and connect the hearts of two people forever.

[gatheringbones]

best books I read in 2023:

sophie strand, the flowering wand: rewilding the sacred masculine

alex iantaffi, gender trauma: healing cultural, social, and historical gendered trauma

matthew desmond, evicted: poverty and profit in the american city

betty dodson, sex for one: the joy of selfloving

ching-in chen, andrea smith, jai dulani, the revolution starts at home: confronting intimate partner violence within activist communities

robin stern, the gaslight effect: how to spot and survive the hidden manipulation others use to control your life

nick turse, kill anything that moves: the real american war in vietnam

lori fox, this has always been a war: the radicalization of a working class queer

arline t. geronimus, weathering: the extraordinary stress of ordinary life in an unjust society

roxanne dunbar-ortiz, not a nation of immigrants: settler colonialism, white supremacy, and a history of erasure and exclusion

eyal press, dirty work: essential jobs and the hidden toll of inequality in america

rabbi danya ruttenberg, on repentence and repair: making amends in an unapologetic world

michelle dowd, forager: field notes for surviving a family cult

starhawk, the empowerment manual: a guide for collaborative groups

betty dodson, orgasms for two: the joy of partnersex

timothy snyder, black earth: the holocaust as history and warning

kidada e. williams, I saw death coming: a history of terror and survival in the war against reconstruction

judy grahn, another mother tongue: gay words, gay worlds

jennifer m. silva, coming up short: working-class adulthood in an age of uncertainty

susanna clarke, piranesi

megan asaka, seattle from the margins: exclusion, erasure, and the making of a pacific coast city

starhawk, truth or dare: encounters with power, authority, and mystery

laura jane grace, tranny: confessions of punk rock’s most infamous anarchist sellout

molly smith, revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex worker's rights

richard c. schwartz, you are the one you've been waiting for: applying internal family systems to intimate relationships

timothy snyder, our malady: lessons in liberty from a hospital diary

peter levine, trauma and memory: brain and body in search for the living past

kylie cheung, survivor injustice: state-sanctioned abuse, domestic violence, and the fight for bodily autonomy

timothy snyder, bloodlands: europe between hitler and stalin

joan larkin, a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories

cj cherryh, hammerfall

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Five - The Emerald City

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here.

Previous chapter.

The library is drab and dreary as usual. It is quiet except for the usual sneeze or cough that comes out of studying students. 

Dina and Jesse sit in the chairs across from you, their brows furrowed as they try and understand their homework. They’re taking AP Physics together which they both agree was a mistake. 

You, on the other hand, are still struggling with your math homework. No matter how many times you did the equation, you still got the answer wrong. It’s gotten to the point where you’ve had to switch the paper you were writing on. The old one had gone gray with how many times you erased and wrote over it. 

The doors to the library swing open, giving you a glimpse of the free souls roaming the hallways. 

Abby and Ellie pull up chairs and sit at the table with you three. Their faces are slick with sweat dirt, they’re wearing their softball uniforms, and they have their bags in hand. They drop their bags with a thud and place their sweaty foreheads on the table.

“Long practice?” Dina asks, looking up from her physics homework for the first time. 

Ellie grunts, giving you all the answers that you need. 

Your parents were always too busy with work to put you in anything recreational. The closest thing you did to a sport was ride your bike everywhere. Now that your bike is gone, all that there’s left to do is walk. 

Ellie lifts her head, “You know what would make me feel better? The Crab Pot.” 

Abby sighs at the thought of seafood. She likes it but less than she likes Mexican food. 

“That touristy place in Miners Landing?” Abby asks. 

Ellie nods her head with a smirk on her face at the thought of seafood. 

“I don’t think they doordash,” Jesse sighs. He too would like some seafood. 

“I’m not using doordash. I’m driving down there.” Ellie waves her keys at the group

Dina looks at Ellie, confused, “I thought your dad took your keys away because you threw a party again?”

“One car ride with me in the morning and he practically begged me to take my keys back.” 

“Road trip?” Jesse suggests, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Ellie’s keys.

“Road trip,” Ellie nods.

Ellie's car is a bright red Jeep Wrangler with an extra row of seating. It’s the perfect vehicle for a family of six or in this case, five teenagers on their way to Seattle. 

Jesse turns to you. “You better buckle up. Ellie’s a bit of a-” he’s interrupted by the jolt of the car. 

“Sorry!” Ellie exclaims. “I didn’t see the curb!” 

“A scary driver,” Jesse finishes his thought before he’s sitting up right in his seat. 

Lakeview becomes a blur the farther away the five of you ride along. You don’t have room to comment on Ellie’s driving as you don’t have a license or a car. She narrowly avoids running over a few trash cans and parked cars but soon enough you make it on the freeway. 

Cars honk and pass Ellie as she tries to get over a lane. You feel bad for her. You can tell that she’s trying by the way she keeps checking her surroundings but cars around her aren’t giving her any grace. Dina’s got one hand on Ellie’s thigh, a reverse of what people usually expect. Dina’s trying her hardest to calm Ellie down and by the looks of it, it’s working. 

Ellie merges off the freeway and you’re taken aback by the beauty of Seattle. The greenery that surrounds all the skyscrapers and modern buildings is mother nature’s way of saying that she is ‘still here.’ 

Ellie pulls into the parking lot of Miner’s Landing and sighs with relief. “We made it.”

You notice that Abby hasn’t said anything the entire drive. She throws a hoodie over her dirty softball uniform and you nearly roll your eyes. Owen’s name is sprawled across the back in gold letters. 

You get out of the car and follow the Seattle experts onto the pier. Being here almost reminds you of home. If you just close your eyes, the salty air in and creaking wood under your feet could transport you back to those countless beach days. 

Abby grabs your hand and pulls you along with them. Your day dreaming of home has led you to be a bit behind the group. 

Your mind goes blank and for a split second you can feel your heart give a jolt at your skin on Abbys. This doesn’t mean anything, right? She just didn’t want you to get left behind. 

The two of you catch up with the rest of the group already waiting for the next available table. Ellie and Jesse are talking about the latest comic book Ellie bought with her allowance while Dina braids a few strands of Ellie’s hair. 

Abby let go of your hand a while ago but you can still feel the way her soft skin felt upon yours. You sit there, in silence as you watch her leg bounce up and down. Somethings wrong, it’s been evident ever since she made her way into the library but you haven’t had the chance to ask her. 

“Hey,” Dina waves her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention. “Isn’t this your first time at Miners Landing?” 

“This is my first time in Seattle actually. I saw a little bit as we drove in, but I haven’t actually had the chance to explore.” 

Dina’s eyes widen and a smile grows on her face. “We have to show you around!” 

The hostess calls Dina’s name and escorts you all to the back of the restaurant. It’s illuminated by the light outside and the yellow lights above. The table is covered in a red and white gingham tablecloth and a smaller white tablecloth for extra protection. 

Menus are placed on the table and the hostess leaves, saying that your waitress will be out in a few. As promised, a waitress with a blue pixie cut comes out with a smile on her face. 

After you order your food and drinks, the waitress collects your menus. An old jazz song is playing softly in the background while other patrons enjoy their food. You observe the people walking through the big windows in the front of the restaurant. A little girl drops her ice cream, an old man almost trips but is saved by his grandson, a mom uses her kids forward, and a man that almost looks like a famous actor trips his untied shoelaces. 

Abby’s phone starts ringing and she sighs as she takes it out of her pocket. Ellie, Dina, Jesse, and you all peer at Abby nervously. 

“Hello, Owen,” Abby says enthusiastically. 

Abby excuses herself from the table and walks outside. As soon as Abby’s foot is out of the door, your food comes. You could care less about your clam chowder as you watch Abby through the big windows. The blue and gold hoodie she’s wearing makes her stand out of the crowd. 

Her brows are furrowed and she’s talking with her hands as if Owen can see her right now. Parents shield their children's ears as they look at Abby with a mixture of concern and caution. 

“I fucking hate Owen,” Ellie shakes her head as she breaks apart a crab leg.

“Don’t we all,” Jesse sighs. 

This catches your interest and for the first time this evening, you pay attention to the conversation happening around you. 

“You guys don’t like Owen?” you ask. 

“Who does? He’s an asshole and he’s a horrible boyfriend,” Dina jabs her fork into a potato. 

“Then why don’t you guys tell Abby that? Maybe that’ll wake her up a bit.”

“Don’t you think we’ve tried? They’re that type of couple that’s on and off again. I thought the last time that they broke up it would be for good but I was mistaken. They were back together two weeks later and they’ve been dating ever since.” Ellie shared with you as you leaned in closer. 

“The point is that we’ve given up on them breaking up for good,” Dina leans back in her chair, a look of pity on her face. 

You let this information sink in as you play with the vegetables in your clam chowder. You knew that Abby and Owen’s relationship was a bit odd from what you’ve seen, but you never knew they were one of those couples. 

You pitied Abby right about now. If you could, you would switch places with her in a heartbeat. She looked like she needed a break from whatever was going on. Her hair was a bit messy, partly from practice but also from pulling her hair out of frustration as she yelled into her phone. Before your mind could process what you were doing, you got up from the table, but Jesse put a hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s better if we let them yell at each other. Trust us, we’ve tried everything,” Jesse says. 

Abby hangs up the phone and sighs, looking at herself in the window, she sighs. She undoes her braid and ruffles her hair, trying her best to make it look more presentable. 

The food on the table has now gone cold as Abby walks back in and takes her seat next to you. She takes a bite of her food and shudders as it goes down. She doesn’t say anything as you all look at her. 

She looks up, ignoring your stares, “We should go on the Ferris wheel. I’ll pay.” 

Abby takes out two one hundred dollar bills and places it on the table and gets up, not waiting for you to join her. You look at everyone, puzzled. It’s like staring at a mirror as they too look puzzled. You grab your stuff and get up, following Abby out of the restaurant and to the huge Ferris wheel. 

Its lights flicker on as the sun sets, emitting a green and red glow across your face. You say ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ as you cut through people to catch up with Abby at the front of the line. 

The five of you sit in the gondola. The caged windows provide an obstructed view of Seattle on one side and the bay on the other. Abby peers out of the window, her nose almost touching the metal, and for a split second, you see a smile wash over her face. You blink and then it’s gone.

Next Chapter.

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you for reading!

[itstheheebiejeebies]

A really great article about what the crew of the Just-a-Snappin' went through on the Bremen raid on October 8, 1943.

Transcript below Read More

Article found through this page on the 100th Bomb Group site

Article named: Uncommon valor

Subheading: Everett Blakely personified grace under pressure

By Dan Krieger Telegram-Tribune

Photos of the Just-a-Snappin' crashed into a tree, and one of Blakely smiling in uniform. The latter with the message "Everett 'Gopher' Blakely, right, lost his plne, 'Just-a-Snappin.' but saved his crew when he crash landed the B-17 bomber.

Pull quote in the article: 'For 3,000 feet Captain Blakely and Major Kidd fought to get that plane under control. It was only because of the superior construction of our bomber... plus the combination of two skilled pilots, that we ever even recovered from that dive. -Lt. Harry Crosby

Main article: Lt. Harry Crosby wrote to his wife, "Jean there are just two reasons why I am here today. One of them is because of Blake's superb piloting and the other is because of the skill of our gunners."

We often think of heroes as flamboyant people. More often than not, real heroes are quiet people who are doing what they believe is required of them.

Today Everett Blakely, a pilot trained in Santa Maria, says that he was "just doing what had to be done" in the war against Hitler. He was a quiet hero.

Allan G. Hancock College in Santa Maria has a long and colorful history. Long before it became a community college, the campus was known as the Hancock College of Aeronautics.

It was a private school, named after its energetic, versatile and creative founder and benefactor, Capt. Allan Hancock.

Well prior to American entry into the Second World War, Captain Hancock offered his school to the United States Army Air Corps as a flight instruction school. Between May 1939 and V-J Day, some 8,500 pilots and 1,500 aircraft mechanics were trained at Hancock College.

The commercial warehouse district just west of today's Hancock College campus includes the one-time hangers for the flight instruction aircraft. The Stearman PT-13 biplanes are gone, but the College of Aeronautics administration buildings still survive on campus.

Everett "Gopher" Blakely came to Santa Maria just out of the University of Washington at Seattle. He was convinced that America was going to get involved in the European war.

The Blitzkrieg over Poland in 1939, over Belgium and France in 1940, and the Battle of Britain had convinced Blakely that this was going to be a war where air power was essential. The United States was going to need pilots. "Gopher" Blakely had discovered his mission.

Blakely soon started flying the essentially First World War era Stearmans over the tranquil valleys of the Central Coast. He and his buddies from rainy Puget Sound loved the warm sunny climate. They thought Santa Maria was a friendly town and enjoyed a precious few weekend hours socializing at the Santa Maria Inn.

Within months, Blakely and his friends were on the damp fen lands of Norfolkshire in England's East Anglia. They had graduated from the tiny Stearmans to the "Queen of the Bombers," the four-engine, hundred-foot-winged Boeing B-17 "Flying Fortress."

On July 4, 1943, the first American pilots participated with Britain's Royal Air Force in bombing raids over Germany. But as late as January 1943, Winston Churchill, en route to meet with President Roosevelt at Casablanca, wrote a secret memo to his Secretary of State for Air.

In that memo, Churchill complained that "the Americans have not yet succeeded in dropping a single bomb on Germany." What Churchill meant was that no American bombers were able to penetrate German anti-aircraft fire a sufficient distance. This was because the Americans were trained for daylight missions only. The British had bomber Berlin early in the war by flying mainly night missions,

Churchill wanted the Americans to start flying night missions also. But Gen. Henry H. "Hap" Arnold was convinced that it would take too long to retrain air crews for night flying. That loss of time would allow the Germans to rebuild their military strength.

At Casablanca, the Americans won Churchill over to a doctrine of round-the-clock bombing which would "give Hitler no rest." The Americans would send increasingly larger waves of B-17s by day. The RAF would continue doing what it did best through nighttime assaults.

The decision at Casablanca was costly in terms of the lives of American aircrews. Daytime raids were decidedly more risky. Few of us realize that the losses to the Eight Air Force alone approach American losses in the Vietnam War.

Capt. "Gopher" Blakely became the pilot of "Just-a-Snappin," a B-17 in the 100th Bomb Group flying out of Thorpe Abbots in Norfolkshire. Blakelly and his crew were piloting their B-17s over the upper reaches of the Danube in the famous raids on Schweinfurt and Rogensburg.

On Oct. 8, 1943, the 10th Bomb Group participated in a raid on the shipbuilding and industrial center of Bremen and the nearby U-Boat building yards and pens at Vegesack.

Both of "Just-a-Snappin's" right wing engines were shot out in a running battle with German fighters over the Zuider Zee. Five of the crew were injured - Waist Giner Sgt. Lester Saunders fatally.

Lt. Harry Crosby, "Just-a-Snappin's" navigator, filed an astonishing report on the B-17's struggle to return to England:

"For 3,000 feet Captain Blakely and Major Kidd fought to get that plane under control. It was only because of the superior construction of our bomber, and its perfect maintenance, plus the combination of two skilled pilots, that we even recovered from that dive.

"If I were an expert on stress and strain analysis, or a mechanic, or even a pilot, I would dwell at length on the manner in which the plane was restored to normal flying attitude. As it is, the procedure defies my description. But I am certain it was a very great accomplishment."

Everett Blakely's description recalls, "You can lose altitude awfully fast when one engine goes sour and your controls are chewed to ribbons. We dropped for 3,000 feet before Major Kidd and I could regain control... Most of the crew were not strapped to their seats were thrown to the floor, shaken severely - but at last the ground was once more back where it ought to be, instead of standing up on one ear. Once more we were in level flight and, at least temporarily, safe."

Crosby's report states that:

"At 10,000 feet we were able to look out the windows (and) were temporarily assured to not that the ground was now in the right place. A hurried consultation was held over inter-phone to determine a plan for fighting our way back to England.

"The following facts had to be considered: We had lost all communication back of the top turret, so it was impossible to determine the extent of injury and damage. Our control wires were fraying as far back as the top turret operator could see. At least two of the crew had reported being hit immediately after we left the target.

"One engine was in such bad condition that bits and finally all of the cowling were blasted off. We were losing altitude so rapidly probably because of the condition of the elevator that any but the shortest way back was beyond contemplation. So we headed across the face of Germany for home."

Later, Harry Crosby wrote of Blakely and his co-pilot:

"The normal reaction on the part of our pilots should have been to think of their own personal safety, or in cases of extreme nobility of character perhaps they would have been thinking about the other members of the crew. But they did not, even in this crisis, forget for one minute they were the leaders of a great formation. Their first thought was of the crews behind them. In unison, as we fell into our dive, the words came over the interphone to our tail gunner, 'Signal the deputy leader to take over.'

"I can't help but to think as they fought for their lives they might have been excused for being too busy to think of their command, but such was not the case.

"By this signaling, the remainder of the formation was notified immediately that we had been hit and were aborting. This act would have prevented any planes being pulled even a few feet out of position into danger from the enemy aircraft buzzing about."

Despite the loss of the airplane's compass, Blakely and his amazing navigator, Lt. Harry Crosby, made it to landfall. They crash-landed at Ludham, Norfolk. The completely unmaneuverable aircraft, without any brakes, skidded into an ancient British oak tree.

Blakely remembers: "The tree crashed between Np. 2 engine and the pilot's compartment. That was lucky because another three inches to the right and it would have crushed the pilot and co-pilot. We had slowed to maybe 50 mph by then..."

Blakely's co-pilot for that mission, Major John B. Kidd, recalled that "someone counted over 800 separate holes in that aircraft."

"Just-a-Snappin" would never fly again.

The Bremen mission was typical of dozens of missions which penetrated deeper and deeper into German territory. Even before the Bremen raid, Blakely and his crew were piloting their B-17's over teh upper reaches of the Danube in the famous raids on Schweinfurt and Regensburg.

Today, Blakely is retired and lives with his wife, Marge, in San Luis Obispo. They are the parents of Supervisor David Blakely, who speaks with great pride of his father's contribution to the fight against Hitler.

-three stars end the article and separate a note about the author

Dan Krieger is a Cal Poly history professor and member of the County Historical Society.

-Along the bottom of the page the article is attributed to the San Luis Obispo (Calif.) Telegram-Tribune in the Saturday, February 16, 1991 edition on page 23.

[storiesofsvu]

A Cup of Juju

Addison Montgomery x reader warnings: maybe some language, just some cute fluffy flirting. a little drabble from a request that's been sitting in the inbox for like, 2 years LOL. oops. Taglist here. Buy me a ko-fi.

Seattle Grace had been your placement for a few years now and as chaotic as things could get, you found that it was exactly where you wanted to be. You’d been specializing in obstetrics and had been debating transferring to a different nursing program considering the lack of an OB attending until The Addison Montgomery walked through the hospital doors and you knew you were staying put no matter what. She was incredibly talented, hardworking, admirable, professional and as friendly as she needed to be, but she would always fall into the group of fancy high level doctors who half the time didn’t even realize just how much work the nurses were putting in. It wasn’t anything against her personally, it was just the way things fell through the cracks and honestly, she was better at getting to know patients personally than others around the hospital.

You were sitting at the nurses station, a single ear bud in to keep an eye on videos playing on your phone while you were finishing up a couple of charts and discharge paperwork. It had been a relatively uneventful day, a couple of check ups on moms and babies, some who were staying for another night and some who would be out of there before you could even punch out. The view in front of your phone was suddenly blocked, the white flash of a doctor’s coat before a coffee cup remained sitting on the counter. You glanced up to see Dr Montgomery standing on the other side of the counter with a soft smile on her face.

“Thank you?” You cautiously raised a brow, “or is this some sort of bribe to deal with the mom in two oh eight? Because I’m pretty much done your charting already.”

“You know I was coming back after lunch to finish that.” She replied in a near teasing tone, leaning against the counter, “and it’s not a bribe, just… good juju. Half sweet vanilla with oat milk, right?” She said with a little shrug and your head tilted as you continued to stare at her and she suddenly faltered, ducking her gaze while her cheeks pinkened.

She was about to step away from the counter and pretend like it never happened when you finally reached for the cup, cautiously taking a sip to not burn your tongue. You let out a near dreamy sigh as the flavour and warmth spread through your body and Addison couldn’t help but smile when the corners of your lips curved up.

“Juju, hey?”

“I mean, you’ve been my scrub nurse for over a year now, I figured it would be a decent way to start an actual conversation… maybe even convince you into joining me for coffee one morning?”

“What?” Your brow furrowed as your head titled once again and Addison let out a groan, her face dropping into her hands.

“Oh god. I completely misread things… you’re one of the ones who calls me spawn of Satan behind my back, aren’t you?”

“No!” You nearly jumped up out of your seat, “no, no. Sorry! I just..  I— honestly didn’t think you even knew my name. And honestly if I was going to call you spawn of Satan it would be to your face, not behind your back.” She glanced up at that, a small chuckle on her lips.

“So what do you call me behind my back?” She asked with a raised brow and it was your turn to blush, though she didn’t give you time to fully answer, “and of course I know your name, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re The Addison Montgomery… you always have a million things on your plate, and half the doctors on this staff don’t know the nurses names unless they’re sleeping with them.” You paused, “and from what I’ve heard sometimes even then they get them wrong…”

“God.” She muttered, rolling her eyes because you were in fact, correct, leaning back against the counter, “well I do in fact know your name. You’re y/n Fossen, you’re without a doubt the best scrub nurse I’ve had, I’m pretty sure I got your coffee order right and…” she surveyed you for a moment, her lip tugged into her mouth, “your drink of choice is gin, but with soda… and extra lemon on the side instead of lime.”

“Have you been stalking me Dr Montgomery?” Your voice softened as to not be overheard, raising a brow at her and she chuckled, her own voice lowering.

“No. I just happen to have a bad habit of staring at pretty things who are also incredibly smart and happen to be absolutely adorable when they’re blushing.”

“You don’t say.” You murmured over the rim of your coffee in an attempt to hide behind it and she laughed, the smile lingering on her cheeks.

“To get to the point, I’d really like to buy you a drink tonight, maybe dinner?”

“You already bought me a drink.” You raised the coffee up in your hand. Before she could reply, the call light went on over room two oh eight and practically the whole floor groaned. You moved to stand from your chair but Addison held up a hand to stop you.

“No. I’ll deal with her.” She paused after a couple of steps, “are you really done my charting?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay well then drinks really are on me tonight.” She flashed you a dazzling smile before making her way down the hallway and you knew the one on your face in that moment was a dreamy one.

Turns out all it takes some days is a cup of good juju to secure a date with the stunner you’d been lowkey crushing on for a year. From that day forward, if you were ever offered juju, you were definitely going to take it.

___________

@svulife-rl @temilyrights @summergeezburr @ssa-sapphic @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @hbkpop @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @borg-queer @swimmingstudentchaos891 @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @disneyfan624 @littlegaybabe @mysticfalls01 @bumblebear30 @solemnnova @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @narvaldetierra @dxtery @kellykidd @poisonedcrowns @summergeezburr @temilyrights @alexxavicry @anya-casablanca  @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @aliensaurusrex @alcabots @wandsmxmff @7thavenger @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @augustvandyne @msvenablesbitch @peanutbutterprincess @kdaghay  @sapphicprentiss

[black-dhalias]

To Belong

Leah Clearwater X Vampire!Reader

It wasn’t supposed to be like this—you were a lover of the arts and prospective ballerina. You were an artist. A performer and perfectionist. A lover, not really a fighter at all. You were graceful and kind, and you were good. You had a million and one dreams, and a future with so many hopes.

And in a flash, you had none of it.

When you felt the venom pound through your veins, you had hoped for death. The flurry of red hair was all you could remember of those last moments, that, and that you were going to be late for your audition.

“Smell this.” You do and pass the short along, the humans scent clings to it and now to you—without a doubt, all you knew these last months was orders. Do as your told and make it to the next day. You only knew bloodlust, no more dreams to keep your sanity together.

Everything was different, even the temporary sun of Seattle seemed to sing a different song. You had no dance left in you at all. Yet despite the subtle knowledge that you’re going to die before the end of this, you continue to follow the rules.

You just can’t bring yourself to care at all, you already lost everything—Riley made sure you knew that much. In the end, there’s nothing left of your life to return to. You move with the others—you don’t belong here though. You never belonged with them. You stop, the moment Riley separates from the group—the moment you heard the onslaught of growls. You stop completely in your tracks.

You don’t want to die.

You back into the rocks and drop down, knowing only one thing—that this is not your fight. “My name is Y/N.” You close your eyes. “I’m 18 years old.” Knees brace against your chest. “I was a ballet dancer. I died.” The sound of shattering bodies makes you squint harder, every sound sends a ricochet through you.

Make it go away.

“My name is Y/N. I died, and I just want to go home.” It has to go away, you don’t want this. You wish they would have just killed you.

“Hi Y/N.” You look up at the man with golden blonde hair and striking gold eyes. You would be crying, you want to cry. You don’t move, preparing yourself to die.

“I’m sorry—I-I don’t—” You shake your head, “I can’t—I don’t want to do this.” You are pleading with the gods more than him, wishing they’ll have mercy on you when it’s all done. You used to believe in god.

“Shhhh….” He soothes, “it’s okay… We won’t hurt you…” you follow him hesitantly, anxious to even be walking… You are their enemy, but they do not attack—they watch you with feverish pity, you hat their pity even more.

You did not expect the wolves, but in spite of your fear—you cannot look away from one of the smaller gray wolves. And if you weren’t on edge. You would almost say that they were watching you.

It all came down to a trade, Bree died and you lived—the insistence of the Cullens had saved you. Even though you came here to kill their human, they defended you. One of them even argued it had to be you. They were convincing enough.

Days turned to weeks and then weeks into months—the diet came easier than it sounded. Your eyes had begun to shift to a deep shade of gold. You almost hated yourself a little less. You put on a smile and walk in the direction of the stairs before stopping at the sight of—well you’ve never met her. Yet those eyes are familiar. Hair cropped short and dark, lips full and god those eyes.

“Sorry, I had to meet you.” Her apology is confusing, you tilt your head as you stop yourself from moving. You want to be close, but something in the way she is away—it makes you think that she doesn’t want you close.

“I know you.”

“Yeah we met once.” You nod, finally taking. A step forward and she steps back to match.

“The battle…” She nods, arms around her torso. “You were the little wolf.” This time she hesitates and does not move as you take another step down.

“Like I said, I had to meet you just once.” She swallows, studying how you move and every facet of your appearance. It’s a little like seeing the sun after years of being in the dark. Leah did not know what it meant to long for something, not in this way, until she had spent months battling every instinct. While a part of her is drawn to you, the other half is furious at the universe.

If she would have gone to Seattle a day before you were turned, bumped into you just once. Leah would have been there, but now you are a vampire. You were everything she was supposed to hate. And despite you being a stranger and a bloodsucker—she hates you less than most.

“I’m Y/N—” Leah knew your name, she had obsessed over you for months—hours googling you. Your missing persons report and family posts, they were shocking and painful. They were full of blistered memories from people who knew you better, but they pained Leah.

“Leah.” You smile and Leah loses herself for a moment, had tried to tell herself that she would feel nothing because you weren’t human. But she feels every second of your presence. In another universe. But Leah was certain the moment you smiled, that even in this universe—she chooses you.

“Well Leah, we have officially met now.” Yeah and now she doesn’t know what to say, and she rocks onto the balls of her feet. You can hear how hard her heart pounds, racing. “I do have to go right now, but I can give you my number?” Leah nods, takes it down and follows you out of the house. You don’t seem like a vampire at all, you seem oddly human.

“Bye Leah.” Then you are gone and Leah is on the porch, in quiet and calm.

“Bye.”

How long are you supposed to wait? When is it appropriate for Leah to hit send on a message? She had rewrote it a hundred times already. An hour. Leah hits send… Oh, god it was too quick. She begins to panic, rolling over in bed.

‘Hey! I was just about to text you!’

Her lips form into a smile, all of these good things and at the same time, the worry mounts once more. What is she supposed to say?

‘Yeah. I didn’t want to bother you since you rushed out.’

Read, god she really hopes you feel anxious too, terrified that she is reading too much into this. Terrified of even thinking about the one thing that she knows for certain—that she is already caught up in you.

You smile at your phone, leaning into the couch.

‘You don’t bother me at all.’

You type it all so fast and hit send. You almost don’t hate yourself as you go back and forth with her.

‘Good lol. So what’re you up to?’

That was the beginning of one long conversation—no one ever said good night or good morning, everything just continued. Over and over, on the daily. Leah had wrecked her sleep schedule just to see your name grace her screen.

It made everyday worth while.

It was late, your voice echoes over speaker… Leah was hushed, her voice groggy as she tells you about her day.

“Leah?” She hmmms and you continue. “Get some rest. We-”

Leah interjects: “Just talk—I just—”

“Okay.” You rummage through the shelves as quickly as possible, and return to the. All before she even knows you are gone.

“Mr and Mrs Dursley of Number 4 Privot drive, we’re proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” You hear her laugh on the other end of the call, sleep intertwined with the sound.

“Harry Potter, really?” You kind of chuckle, pausing as you listen.

“I never read it.” You were so odd with how you said it, like it was the simplest thing in the world. She never questioned it further and as your voice lulled her to sleep—you can help your smile.

Seth tosses a cream colored envelope in her direction as they sit at the table, his other hand holding the muffin he’s devouring. While the letter itself is unexpected, the scent on it is familiar and known. She tears into the envelope quickly, watching an invitation fall out with messy writing in the corner.

Her eyes draw to the signature first— Y/N.

Leah wonders if you know what you do to her head, the mess you have caused and the inhibitions you have broken. Nothing about you was simple, and it drove her wild. She had only been talking to you actively for a month, but it was like she had known you for years.

Hey Leah!

Not sure if you’ll come, but I really could use some company at this wedding. And I’d rather it be you.

Love Y/N

It was that easy. Leah suddenly was invited to a wedding for people she barely tolerates and she’ll be there with a smile. She hadn’t seen you since you gave her your phone number, and since then—you had consumed her every waking thought.

“So you’re going?” Leah glances up at Seth, shrugging her shoulders—trying to seem nonchalant.

“Yeah, I guess.” Seth rolls his eyes, taking another bite of his muffin.

“Ya know, you imprinted on her. It’s okay to, ya know—be excited about getting to go with her.” Leah again shrugs, really looking at the way your writing jumps out. Your name. “You’re impossible, Leah.”

.

.

Leah tucks her hair behind her ears, trying her best to not to look as giddy as she feels. She had ruined her sleep to talk to you, and spent half her day waiting for your name to brighten up her phone.

‘I’m here’—Leah hits send, almost instantly the message is read and she smiles. Watching those three little dots…. Anticipation…. They disappear, and her heart drops.

“Leah!” She looks up and spots you at the top of the stairs—stunning. This definitely beats phone calls and text messages, because you just exist and Leah is absolutely enamored. “Oh I’m glad you made it!” You were halfway down the stairs before Leah could bring herself to even notice how beautiful you looked. Your hair done up, and eyes glittering the brightest shade of gold—like rich caramel, or amber. Or how you were wearing slacks with a vibrant maroon button down, and somehow was both feminine and masculine. Lips shaded a brilliant red.

“I see now why you had me wear maroon—” The way your expression seems to lift, eyes brightening… Leah is certain that you would be blushing.

“I thought the color would suit you.”

“Or you just wanted us to match?” You again, get that look as she points out exactly what you were thinking. You liked Leah, a lot more than anticipated and enjoyed the closeness.

“The color does look nice on you. I wouldn’t peg you as someone to like dresses.” She kind of half shrugs, again trying to seem as nonchalant as she can be. However, unconsciously—as she rocks on her heels, you note the way the dress moves just a little. You wonder if she’d make your heart race? Would she? Could she?

You don’t know where the confidence comes from—where you found the nerve to grab her hand as you lead her into the wedding. You knew next to no one here, besides her and the Cullens; everyone else was a stranger. Sure you knew Seth’s voice from the times he’d interrupt Leah on the phone. Sure you knew of people, but you didn’t know any of them.

Which made it that much easier, because she was pretty much the only person you needed nowadays. At first, Leah is hesitant to accept the way your hand felt—it was cold, but it was not uncomfortable. It was firm, but again, not uncomfortable. Nothing about you made her uncomfortable at all.

Being near you was as easy as breathing for Leah.

The Cullens took you in, and protected you when the Volturi wanted nothing more than to kill you. They gave you a home when you were certain you had nothing left to have.

“We’re outnumbered.” You tense up, you aren’t a newborn anymore, but you are close enough and you draw in on that strength.

“By a lot.” For family right? That’s what this is all about, and even as you stand adjacent to Alice—you wonder where you would be without them? Dead. That’s the only answer.

“I won’t let them hurt my family.” You tighten your stance, preparing yourself all at once for the oncoming assault.

“Neither will I.” It’s the four of you versus everyone else, just you against the wolves and it seems like every time you are certain you can breathe. Another wolf takes their place.

Even when the others arrive, you are left pinned—hands barred on either side of a wolves jaw. Screaming for help. You turn your head to the side, saving yourself from the teeth—hair tangling with the dirt. You hear a growl, eyes opening to see Leah moving quickly. For a moment, you are back at the battle field. The moment that changed everything, and gave you a second chance.

Once Leah is in front of you, the wolves redirect their attacks—avoiding you at every turn.

Leah’s body is wrapped almost entirely around you, spooning you close as her arms lazily hang over your shoulders. Her cheek pressing against the side of your head. Something about the way her heart beats, it soothes your soul.

“Why’d they stop attacking me?” Every muscle in her body seems to tense, just slightly, but enough for you to notice the change.

“Because I’d kick all their butts before they got to you.” You smile lightly, enjoying the sound of her voice as she smiles back—laughing just a little. But the way the sound catches in her throat, it tells you that there’s more to it.

“Cute, but really? Why? It made no sense, one second I was a prime rib and the next—it was like they were avoiding me.”

“Are you really questioning why they didn’t want to kill you anymore?” You kind of shifts your body so that you are facing her, still leaning into her—her fingers ghosting over your face to brush the hair out of your face.

“Yeah because I think there’s something you’re not telling me.” Leah purses her lips, you can see the thoughts physically forming in her head—like she’s trying to come up with a good story. You see her kind of give in, face relaxing as she sighs—tightening her grasp on you.

Nervous, you try to soothe her worries—laying across her chest, head tucked into the spot between her neck and shoulder. Arms wound around her as you listen to the lull of her heart. Even with the way the air catches in her throat, the sudden shift in her demeanor.

“I imprinted.” Your brow contorts, only hearing of imprinting one time before—sacred. That’s how Edward described it. “And if they hurt you, they would have broken everything we believe in.” Leah’s throat tightens, she had wondered many times of things would be different? What would have happened if you were human? Would she care more? Would she know you?

“Do you love me?” It was that simple, you didn’t ask the big questions or the complicated ones. Your eyes were wide and for a moment she just studied your expression, it was a half as second.

“Imprint or not, I’d love you either way.” Maybe it would have taken longer, but it didn’t matter because she has you now. Your sweet smile, it’s all Leah needs to know that much. She would have found you eventually.

“Good.” You hum out the word, smiling as you lean in to place a soft kiss on her lips.

[swiftsdelucaa]

❛ 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑴𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝑩𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏 ❜

Requested? Yes, by anon! (I've accidentally deleted the draft 🤦🏻‍♀️)

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Miranda Bailey x reader (platonically)

𝘼/𝙣: Thank you for your appreciation <3 Hoping you'll like it!

You couldn't believe it when you heard you were being recruited to join the surgical residency group at Seattle Grace, you were so excited to start!

Your co-workers seemed nice to you, a real and an awesome friendship was born between you, and tackling this journey together would have been unique.

The only thing that didn't convince you was the chief of the residents, in short she always got angry about every single thing. To you she was just an annoying dwarf.

But in the end she managed to become your one real point of reference amidst all the confusion. She was always there when you needed her and always knew how to cheer you up.

Unfortunately, as those fantastic days existed, there were also those ones where it would take more than 100 showers to wash them off. Losing a patient has always been a big weakness for you, but thanks to Bailey, you were now stronger.

When you just couldn't do it, she always came to your side to reassure you and give you one of those speeches about your future, which sometimes scared you, but basically helped you. "Y/n, you can do more" she always repeated this phrase to you.

Today you are proud to have come this far, to have become a fantastic surgeon, thanks to the best mentor you could ever know, Miranda Bailey.

[klausysworld]

hey I hope ur doing well! I’m not sure if I already requested this and if you saw it but here it is

I was wondering if you could do a greys anatomy x tvdu where the reader is klaus girlfriend and she’s a surgeon at Seattle grace hospital where’s she’s a intern or resident or grey Sloan memorial if she’s an attending and she’s in magics intern group and she’s apart of the twisted sisters and whenever her and klaus did it she would never bet here in the morning and always be kinda distant so he asked her to move in but it just looked like she got even more distant so he thought she was cheating but then he finds out she’s a surgeon in like mabey a dramatic or traumatic way with one of the big events in greys and mabey a his family finds out with him since she was close with them

Hi, Yes I have this request and I too am a Greys fan (haven’t seen the later seasons because everyone I like was dead)

I’ll get on this soon, thank you for requesting!! 💗❤️🤍

[disregardcanon]

thinking about a npmd characters yellowjackets au and oh boy it's fun

okay so the premise is, the hatchetfield high school nighthawk football team is going to nationals. i'm pretty sure that doesn't exist for american high school football but we're suspending disbelief.

solomon lauter is trying to build up goodwill with the community for this election cycle, so not only does he charter a private plane for the football team, he makes his daughter go with. HE doesn't have time to go to seattle and it's not like most people will see him there anyway, but if he puts his daughter on the plane with them and says oh look my daughter is so kind and supportive! she's taking time away from HER own schoolwork and HER own life to support our fighting nighthawks! what a kind and involved citizen she is!

and then of course he pressures her teachers to just. let her off the hook for activities in classes that week. because she's such a kiiinnnddd person who's supporting the football team.

richie, of course, is essential for an excursion such as this. he's zeke the fighting nighthawk! he's on that plane. ruth has some overlap with misty quigley that i find interesting, so we're making her the equipment manager. this is half to get her on the plane and half because i think she'd use that as an excuse to be a pervert. like oooohhh i'm so sorry! i didn't think there would be boys CHANGING in here right now! myyyy mistake.

max and the football team and brenda and the cheer squad are all there. now however do we get our dearest spankoffski on that plane? (ruth says that she needs help with equipment management duties and pete's already the salutorian of the class... so she's able to sell him just missing this second to last week of school alright to the teachers. he doesn't really WANT to, but steph, who he's been bonding with since she got him to help her cheat and then actually helped her study... asks him to. because she says she's going to be bored out of her mind without someone to hang out with... and he's only HUMAN, okay?)

now how do we get grace temperance chastity on a plane full of horny teenagers for an activity that she doesn't do? why making her the president of the FCA (fellowship of christian athletes) of course! she is the self-assigned chaperone of such an important and potentially very horny and drug-ridden activity in such a den of sin (seattle). SHE is the only thing standing between the students of hatchetfield high and total anarchy. as valedictorian (peter, if you just applied yourself and maybe went to chuuurrrcchhh you might have beaten me! grace will you just shut up-) she is not worried about her grades in this penultimate week of school. oh BOY was she wrong.

they of course crash in the canadian rockies. the coaches die, and we're left with absolute fucking anarchy. everyone save our favorite quintet listen to max for awhile as he dictates the ways that heeee, max jagerman, think things should be run. it's bad! it doesn't work! they're gonna fucking die!!!!!!!

jagerman is more worried about how to keep his power and where steph keeps disappearing to than figuring out how to stay alive in case of... not getting rescued.

ruth has GAD and is just freaking the fuck out in the corner, richie is doing the same, and pete is trying to figure out. how the fuck to survive in case of no rescue coming. steph's on team I Think We Should Prepare, Jesus Christ! and grace enjoys survival situations so she's over here. she also thinks that the act of god might be that they're stuck out here and have to build a new jerusalem (tehehe)

the combined powers of steph's charisma and kindness, pete's problem-solving, and grace's intensity and sureness in herself, they convince the rest of the group that they found a safer spot... a lake, where they might find water and food and not die here by the plane while waiting for a rescue that might not come.

the rest of the group listens, showing the first crack in max jagerman's power, and he has a very ugly blowup but eventually follows.

he IS going to die out there. he IS going to be the first to die out there. and they are going to eat him :) but it's also max jagerman who's in the narrative role of jackie. so he's gonna haunt this fucking narrative! OHHHHH YEAAAAAAHHHHHHH

other tidbits: max deciding to for real pursue grace is mainly about trying to break her power base because he's pissed she's the one everyone's listening to now, but he also... does think that's hot. :3

grace IS going full girl-prophet. lottie tempered her girl-prophet ways in season 2 because she realized that things were going wrong... grace thinks she's god's anointed so she is not going to do that. not at all.

stephanie HAS got a gun. a hunting she will go. a hunting she will take pete. (we're out here starving in the woods and you think that pete and i shouldn't... sleep together? with fucking CONDOMS!?!?! what is your prOBLEM? he's a loser and you're COOL! we're not in fucking high school, max! grow! up!) they're getting some of that Narrative Conflict With The Superstitions that defines natalie's character.

ruth WOULD find the porno mags she WOULD show everyone and when grace tries to confiscate them for Jesus Reasons ruth would find one to squirrel away just for herself. i am also assigning ruth butcher because i think she could handle the guts, and also.. i'm sorry the idea of ruth throwing girls' nights with jagerman's corpse in the freezing cold meat shed just works in my brain.

i'm gonna give richie van's How Do We Make Sense of All These Times I Almost Died and this ABSOLUTE Bullshit!??!! plot line, along with assigning him group morale and Person Who Tells the Stories.

when it gets to the card pull grace WILL be rigging it to get rid of "dirty dudes". jason gets got first. and grace keeps giving lautski and ruth cryptic warnings about cleaning up their sexual act or else and they're just like hahaha i'm in danger...

somehow grace thinks that this is all compatible with her christianity! i love her <3

[magickgirl786]

I would have loved it if George O'Malley had joined Mercy West's internship program and had been in the same resident class as Jackson Avery, April Kepner, Charles Percy, and Reed Adamson because it would have been interesting in the merger as he would be a part of both the Seattle Grace and Mercy West families during such a tumultuous time and also it would have been cool to see his dynamics with those characters.

In terms of dynamics, I think that George and April would get along the best because they are quite similar both being from families they don't fit in with, both wanting to specialize in trauma, etc. but I could also see him being friends with all of them. In fact, I think he would have gotten along with all of them as they are pretty similar to MAGIC. And I'll explain below:

M: The Meredith of the group is Jackson as both are smart/qualified but have people's legacies to contend with. Meredith with her mother and Jackson with his grandfather

A: The Alex of the group is Charles as both can be douchey and say things about patients that get them kicked off of surgeries but both are still good doctors that put in the work

G: The George of the group is obviously George lol but also kinda April

I: But since April can't be the George of the group when George is already the George the group (lol confusing!), the other character I think she's a lot like is Izzie as both want to prove themselves as capable surgeons and care a lot about their patients

C: And lastly the Cristina of the group is Reed in that they are both sarcastic and take no shit

God, I would have loved this storyline to have George leave for Mercy West at the end of Season 3 and then come back in Season 6 with the merger and impress his old colleagues with his surgical skills (and of course not die in the Season 5 finale). Ugh why couldn't this happen lol

What does everyone think the dynamics would have been?

[holly-louisexox]

Ribcage X Andy Biersack- Part 22

Masterlist

"There's one thing you should know about me Delia Vincent, I don't date. Got no heart to break and emptiness is safe, keep it that way."

He was adamant in his choices...

...But then things changed

"This is officer John Davies interviewing the case of a missing person known as Delia Grace Vincent, 2nd of December." The police offer start the interview with Shevy and the band by speaking into the audio recorder that he had brought along for information. "First of all, Does Miss Vincent have anyone on Seattle she may have taken refuge with?"

"No, Delia's from Ohio, she lives there with her parents." Shevy explains. "We came to Seattle for a tour, these guys are in a band, myself and Delia are crew managers and department specialists."

"Would you say this disappearing is out of character to her?" Officer Davies continues to question.

"Very. Delia's been nothing but professional this whole tour, she would never just up and leave like this. Plus her items were still in her hotel room suggesting she never came back last night." Lonny explains, he almost felt like he was having to prove to this police officer that Delia was not a bad person.

"And how do you mean 'she never came back last night'? Where you guys out last night?" The officer asks lifting an eyebrow to the group; he was trying to get every detail out of the group to try and find anything that would lead the team to knowing the whereabouts of Delia.

"We had a show here last night and it was the last show of tour so we went for drinks at the pub down the road to celebrate." Jake tells the officer.

"Did anything happen that could have influenced the disappearance?" Officer Davies asks which makes Andy gulp nervously, was the officer going to completely blame him? He guessed he was at fault for this but he just wanted her back safe, he never wanted her to go missing, to get hurt, or worst, killed.

"I may have had a bit of a disagreement with her last night... She slapped me round the face then stormed off outside." Andy stutters out trying not to let his voice crack and start crying again. "But that was the last time I saw her or heard from her."

"What was the disagreement about?" The officer is now focusing his attention on Andy which made the lead singer feel more nerves and a weight on his chest; he was not about to let himself break down now though.

"I hadn't been completely truthful or fair to her. The truth is I really liked her but was too closed to show it so pushed her away. Then last night I couldn't do it anymore and I realised I needed her so I told her and she reacted badly to it. I can't say I blame her but yeah... She left because of me. We all knew what was going on here in Seattle and I let her leave, it's all my fault." Andy heard his voice crack at the end, felt the tears he was trying to keep in fall down his face.

"You can't blame yourself for this son." Officer Davies breaks his serious vibe to show some sympathy towards the crying singer. "Has anyone had any contact with her since last night?"

"No, none. We've tried calling her and it just rings and rings until it goes to voicemail." Shevy explains.

"Okay that could be useful, if someone could give me Miss Vincent's number, we may be able to track the location of the phone to help find her." Officer Davies announce which instantly brings some hope to the group and Lonny is instantly pulling his phone out of his pocket to search for Delia's number.

"I have her number here." Lonny perks up before reading out the number.

"Okay that will be helpful and we will get tracking made available as soon as possible. If I could also take your number young man so that we can alert you all of any updates." All attention is now turned to Lonny, it would make sense for Lonny to be in charge of updates, he's been the most sensible and head strong so far. "That concludes the interview, the last thing I will require is a recent photo of Miss Vincent so we can identify her."

-----------------------

Waking up Delia was met with foggy vision and a slight headache. She didn't even drink that much last night. Looking around the room she was then confused to find she was not in her hotel room, where was she? What happened? Then it hit her, the tall blonde guy she walked into, what was his name again? Sam maybe? he insisted on a hug then covered her face with a cloth. Did he drug her?

Sitting up made her head spin slightly, but she was determined to figure out where she was. standing up to look out the window she realises she recognises nothing, was she even still in Seattle? Delia then walks over to the door of the room and tries to open it only to realise it was locked. Shit, she was trapped. It was locked from the outside with no way of unlocking it from the inside. Sitting back down on the bed, she then goes to grab her phone from her pocket only to realise that it was missing; it's at that moment the same blonde man from the bar walks into the room.

"Ah, good, you're awake. I hope the room is to your liking." He smiles, his smile was creepy, she couldn't put her finger on why but she felt extremely uncomfortable in his presence.

"Why am I here? Where is this place?" Delia spits slightly trying to hide the fear she felt.

"Never you mind dear, you'll grow to like it here one day." Sam strokes Delia cheek slightly which makes Delia flinch and send him a death glare. "Such hostility, I saw the argument you had with that guy. He wasn't right for you. I saved you, you should be thanking me." Sam smiles again, that same smile that sent a shiver down Delia's spine and not in a good way. 

"You know nothing!" Delia could feel herself getting defensive, she was entering fight or flight mode from the fear she was feeling and right now the fight was winning.

"Was it Andy you got into a fight with? If so he seems to have left a fair few voicemails to you. Ah, this one is my favourite though." Sam grins wickedly now pulling out Delia's phone before playing the voicemail left from Andy.

"Delia, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I know I've been a dick and I know I hurt you but please let me try to make this right, please just give me one last chance. If that really isn't what you want to do then I understand. Please just call one of us and let us know that you're safe, we're all worried about you. All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe, now I see I have failed at even doing that." Andy was broken. Delia could clearly hear the hurt in his voice, could tell he was crying. Suddenly all that fight or flight she had in her melted. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be in Andy's arms to bring him some form of comfort, to reassure him that she was okay. She knew that he was blaming himself for this, she didn't want that to happen. This was all her fault. She knew what was going on in Seattle and she stupidly thought she could make it to the hotel alone. Why did she have to be such an idiot?

"Please just let me go." Delia begs feeling a tear fall down her face "I won't tell anyone of any of this, please just let me go."

"Now why would I do that? I can take better care of you than what Andy could, I could make you happy." Sam again strokes Delia's face and this time she doesn't flinch. She just sits there frozen as she feels another tear fall down her face.

"Take care of me? you killed those other women!" She chokes, she was desperate to stop herself from crying, she did not want this monster to see her weak.

"What you need to understand pretty girl, I want someone to share my life with. They were not worthy so I had to... dispose of them so to speak. I need perfection, you've got the looks but I need you to worship me. But let's not move on too soon." Sam smiles sitting next to Delia on the bed.

"You're sick!" Delia spits feeling uncomfortable by the sudden invasion of her space.

"Now, now, let's not be unreasonable." Sam shakes his head slightly before going to place a hungry kiss on Delia's lips. This instantly makes Delia push him off  her which results in a sudden stinging sensation to her cheek. 

He had slapped her. 

"The choice is yours my dear. You either worship me like a good little bitch or you find yourself floating in the Seattle Ferry landing pier." Sam spits as he stands up to exit the room. As soon as he walks out Delia hears the locking of the door. That's when she realises how fucked she is. she has to try and escape this place somehow, but how will she? Could she?

"Andy, please find me. I need you." Delia sobs into the pillow after having thrown herself to lay on the bed.

Hope is the only thing stronger than fear. Delia was hoping, was praying that she could escape this. She wanted to be able to spend Christmas with her family, she wanted to see her new found friends again, but most of all... She wanted Andy to tell her that everything would be okay.

[jabberstar]

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ pjo dr / me!!

Rayne Sterling / Cabin 20 / Aug 18, 2008

The Prophecies.

"The children of the eldest gods,

Shall reach 16 against all odds,

And see the world in endless sleep,

A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap,

A single choice shall end their days,

Olympus preserve or raze.

—The prophecy never made sense because of the plural, "children." That was, until, two half bloods were born on the same day at other ends of the country. Both heroes of Olympus were offered immortality, but declined."

Me and Percy were both born on August 18th, 2008, just at different times and places. The conflict started the hour he was born, and ended the hour I was born.

"Nine half-bloods shall answer the call,

To storm or fire the world must fall,

An oath to keep with a final breath,

as foes bear arms to the doors of death.

—Originally, there were only eight of the nine demigods on the Argo II, but they eventually found the last person. Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, Rayne Sterling, Leo Valdez, Piper McLean, Jason Grace, Hazel Levesque, and Frank Zhang were the first eight to be on the ship, finally locating and rescuing Nico Di Angelo from the capitivity of giants to make up 9."

For a majority of the weeks long journey across the world, I mentored Hazel with the abilities given to her by my mother. The two of us were the ones mainly arguing to rescue Nico, and sure enough he was part of the prophecy.

Life before camp

I'm from a coastal town in Seattle, and found out I was a half blood by getting sent to a psychiatrist at 11 for hearing voices. On my 12th birthday, my mother, Hecate, revealed it was some of her spirit companions trying to find me.

Aka: My house was kind of haunted and it made me look schizophrenic.

I got to camp by running away and finding a saytr who escorted me there with the guidance of spirits. I got there when Percy, Annabeth, and Grover got back from their quest. The saytr who brought me there happened to be close to grover, and that's how I met the three of them.

My first quest was when I was 13, and it lasted most of October. I dragged Percy, Grover, and Annabeth along with me to Circe's island, Pasiphaë's Palace in Crete, Medea's Palace in Athens, and Naxos to retrieve information about witchcraft. I was scared to go alone even if my mother was the patroness of witches, but I'll never admit that to any of them.

There isn't a limit for questing partners, it's just traditional to go with 2 other people. Groups of 4 are completely fine.

Powers

My powers are mainly related to spirits, shadows, and people. Mainly people's emotions. I use this to my advantage by either weakening monsters/my opponents mental states, which makes it easier to beat them in a fight.

I shadow travel frequently, especially when I'm too lazy to walk. Instead of plain underworld black being seen when I do it like the Hades kids, mine normally has little twinkles of stars in the darkness.

I do most of my spells at night, alone, while the stars and/or moon is out. I use moon related things a lot as well as stars, it just feels better to use them. It doesn't feel the same to do spells during the day than it does during nighttime.

My trademark for spells is stars. Written, carved into things, it doesn't matter. All of my siblings know this, and each of them has their own. Lou's is pebbles, Viktor's is spirals, and Blaise's is circles.

I talk to the dead a lot, and often enjoy their company. My favorites are usually campers who went to camp in the 70s-00s that passed because their lives are really interesting and I find it easy to talk to them for hours on end.

Weapons

My main weapons are two daggers gifted to me by my mother, and both of them turn into rings that I put on my middle fingers. I use the straighter one more than the crescent.

The straighter dagger turns into the north syar ring on the left, and the crescent one turns into the moon one on the right.

Life at camp

Like Percy, people are a little intimidated, jealous, and sometimes fearful of the two of us. Which we both find hilarious, mind you. I sometimes get less credit than him on my accomplishments even though we went through most of the same exact things together {the Great Prophecy, the Prophecy of the Nine, Tartarus, et cetera.}

Sometimes in the Stoll's store or in Leah and James's, I give tarot readings. No "are you feeling a hit stressed, mhm?" Just straight up "Oh? Would you look at that. It says you should dump your boyfriend, he's a bitch, isn't he?" I also supply most of their spell jars, which I now label very carefully and heavily because Connor is a dumbass.

I joke about being Dionysus's favorite, to which he responds, "Pass me a coke and I'll think about it Zayne." Does he get my name wrong every time? Yes. Is it only one letter off though? Also yes. A win is a win.

I have close relationships with lots of the other head counselors both because of the war and because of the unhinged ass counselor meetings we have that I usually go to because Lou can't be bothered, and honestly... hanging out with Clarrise and Annabeth is a vibe. Same with Connor, Nico, and Leo. It's fun asl.

Thanks for reading! <3

[spookyrobbins]

I saw your prompt on discord about Arizona rejecting her grant and I’m struggling slightly to imagine Arizona doing so. Do you really think she would be able to reject it? (Sorry for not doing this on Discord, it’s easier to be anonymous)

i don’t know if i’d go so far as to say “i really think she’d reject the grant” rather that it’s a bit of a silly prompt in general. but i do think it merits some discussion.

as i said on discord, the arizona who applied for the grant is quite different to the one who received the grant. so i think there’s some wiggle room for arizona to decide that she actually does not want to follow through on the grant. purely from a career perspective, she presumably thought the grant would accelerate her career but with kenley’s death and seattle grace’s ranking issues etc, she became department head which id venture is probably one of her primary career goals. so surprisingly early arizonas achieved kind of the highest level. and that may be worth something when she receives the grant.

additionally, as she said, she had just moved to seattle, it likely was only a few years at most after tim’s death, she didn’t really have any roots in seattle. now ofc an argument could be made that beyond callie, did arizona have roots in seattle? and i think you could probably make a reasonable argument of yes. not that we ever see or hear much of anything about them but it’s mentioned that arizona has some sort of friend group. plus she does seem to enjoy living in seattle to some extent. maybe it’s not the place she wants to be forever but i don’t think it’s out of the question to say arizona considers it home. and callie certainly adds to that.

and as for callie. regardless of callie’s (kinda shitty) attitude about the grant, i think an argument could be made for arizona hesitating bc of her relationship. she and callie just got back together after a major breakup a few months prior, they’re in the process of moving in together bc they want to start taking steps to be more serious. moving to africa is a major commitment and disruption and i think arizona really craves stability. so i think there’s something to be said as well for arizona choosing to continue building a life in seattle with callie over the grant, regardless of prestige, especially when you take into account how rapidly arizonas career has already accelerated.

again this is just a silly prompt and ofc there’s room for arizona to feel some regret if she turns it down. but i don’t think it’s entirely out there for her to at least consider not taking it at that point in her career either.