FRAN IN C.C.'S POV || SHE - Dodie
Am I allowed to look at her like that?
⤷ FRAN X C.C.
there is Something about the way c.c. looks at fran over the course of the show that screams GAY YEARNING so i made a video about it and hurt myself in the process...unrequited francc...ah yes, why do i do this to myself?
disclaimer: i do not own any of the clips or audio used in the video. the video is made for entertainment purposes only, no copyright infringement is intended. all rights belong to the nanny and dodie. :>
if the guy who interviewed me for that job sends me an email asking if we can chat (on the phone) that's a good thing right??? they dont usually take the time to reject ppl via phone?
except maybe in this case bc i already knew him and most of the staff there beforehand? so this is like. a courtesy to let me down gently???
yall i am NOT in the proper headspace for this rn i did a 30 min walk in the extreme wind and cold bc my head was bad, and then did a bunch of chores i hate bc i felt like i had to in some sort of cosmic self flagellation and to keep me from just laying on the ground in moodiness
THEY CAN'T FUCKING BRING OUT AN ANTI-HERO ARTEMIS WHEN I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF STUDYING FOR FINALS!!
WHAT THE FUCK, DC?!? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FOCUS?!?
oh i am so excited holy shit. am i the only one getting slade vibes from her?? because im getting massive slade/rose wilson vibes from the single eye cover and im wondering if artemis is a plant, someone unconnected from slade who wouldn't be considered a threat, to go undercover and get close to the titans. this is also like, high-key a chance to make jade and artemis sisters and/or half-sisters in canon which would be neat. i know comics fans aren't huge on changes to the canon based on outside things but making them half sisters doesn't really change jades backstory, nor artemis'.
[ BEDSIDE ] : character A waits by character B’s bedside as they recover from an illness or an injury.
Pairing: John Price x gn!reader
Warnings: fluff, language
Word count: 418
A/N: had a bit of a sick week myself so have a very self-indulgent blurb of price taking care of hound with a cold (see my hellhound series for context on their relationship 🖤)
—
“Brought you some tea, love,” John says softly through the crack of the bedroom door.
You squint an eye open, the rest of your face hidden by the duvet cover. “Two sugars?” you ask, like he’s ever gotten it wrong.
“And a splash of cream,” he smiles indulgently. “Just the way you like.”
Sitting up makes your head spin, thick and foggy with sickness as it is, but it’s worth it when you raise the steaming mug to your lips. Perfect ratios. Perfect temperature. God bless John Price.
“You’re a star, thanks for this.”
“Anything you need,” he assures from his seat at the edge of the bed.
He presses a warm hand to your forehead as you take another sip and hums in the back of his throat at the reading. Your temperature must be getting close to normal. When you make to set your drink down on your own he takes it from you with a gentle look of reprimand. John gets terribly restless when you’re sick— especially if he feels like he’s not doing enough. Like he’s ever not done enough. When you caught a flu last year he ran out in pouring rain to get Chinese takeaway just because you happened to mention a craving for egg drop soup. You’ll never forget the look on his face when he came back to the flat, dripping wet but triumphant. Just today he’s checked your temperature five times, made three cups of tea, presented one bowl of soup and a sleeve of crackers for your dining pleasure, and read aloud two chapters of his very boring history book when you announced that one more minute of bad telly would melt your brain to mush.
“Anything?” you tease, just to see the warmth of the warning in his gaze.
“Anything.” His eyes are so blue. “Any time.” So dark. “Always.” So beautiful and terrible and serious. Every word a promise.
You swat weakly at his shoulder and whine, “You know I can’t take the piss out of you when you’re so fucking nice to me.”
He smirks, then, sudden and sharp. His eyes sparkle. “Well that’s the point, isn’t it?”
“Prick.”
“Darling.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close, whiskers tickling as he presses a firm kiss to your temple. “I love you, you know.”
“Yes,” you say on a sigh, cheek pressed against his shirt, heart beating in sync with the strong pulse that thrums from his own, “I love you, too.”
Pentiment Act 1: Fun abbey murder mystery! Gratuitous references to the significant works of art, literature, and theology of the Renaissance! It is a beautiful day and you are a horrible little manuscript painter! Silly monk interpersonal disputes and shenanigans!
Pentiment Act 2: Your young child has died of the plague and with him any love that existed in your arranged marriage. All is hopeless. You wander Europe so you don't have to go home to your distant wife.