the reason i want DC comics to exist in the marvel universe is largely because i love imagining steve rogers being there for the first superman comic, the first batman comic, the first wonder woman comic. maybe he absently flips through them in the grocery store, entertained for a moment by the whimsical adventures, but he sees them and chuckles a bit and goes about his day. it’s not that big of a deal.
only for him to come back so many years later, and suddenly there’s songs about superman, there’s been TV series after TV series, there’s been movies upon movies and there’s more on the horizon. he flipped through a wonder woman comic what felt like last summer and now she’s a pop culture juggernaut. and like, maybe he’s in a comic book store january 2017, flipping through the latest superman rebirth issue, feeling more than a little mindblown at how much it all changed.
Just catching up on some of the videos that came out during Worlds, I loved Charlie White as an interviewer and also as a commentator.
While I would love to see Meryl and Charlie come back and compete, I doubt it’ll happen as they both seem very content with their lives right now.
I listened to Charlie on Ice Talk and he said he always tries to find something positive even when a skater has had a rough or touch skate. I should also add that it tickled me that a Sochi Olympic champion was interviewing a fellow Sochi Olympic champ.
His days at the Ministry were long and tiring, thankless and endless. He gleans as much information as possible from everyone as a fly on the wall that no one explicitly trusts or distrusts. He listens to everybody and everything, and trades intel, files, safe passage, Aunt Muriel’s goblin-made heirlooms, time off, sometimes his body - whatever he has, or can conceivably get, to keep his family safe.
He comes in early, stays late, takes the messiest projects, the longest paperwork, and the dirtiest jobs.
He does a fair bit of bluffing, too - politicking and lying and disgusting himself by exploiting everything his father had taught him was wrong with the system, justifying with gruesome images of what would happen if he stopped. (His mother, crying in an empty shell of a childhood home. His father, on trial by the Wizangamont, no one letting him speak. Bill accused of fraternization with goblin revolutions. Charlie never permitted to come back to Wizarding England. Ron, unceremoniously slain. Fred and George being pulled out of their shop, tortured on the Diagon Alley cobblestones - Ginny never returning home from Hogwarts – )
Death Eaters, Order members, and those who aren’t aligned with either side become not people, but opportunities for Percy. He feels like a Slytherin the whole time, but he knows that the burning fear in his temples and the fact that he’s abandoning his own safety on the slightest chances for his familys’ - he’s still a Gryffindor.
It’s a stressful two years, but he does it sucessfully. And it makes all his years at the Ministry after the war seem easy by comparison - he’s no longer bargaining for anyone’s life. Just for tax reform. And funding for projects. And a new intern program. It’s easy.
Smile, though your heart is aching Smile, even though it’s breaking When there are clouds in the sky you’ll get by If you smile through your fear and sorrow Smile and maybe tomorrow You’ll see the sun come shining through for you
Since he was a little boy, Charles
Weasley saw Voldemort as his personal boggeyman. Even if he’d never
met the man in person, little Charlie was terrified of that person
who’s name shouldn’t be said that made his parents sad and angry. He
would ask every night for his parents to check under his bed if he
wasn’t there. The idea of a mass murderer hiding in his son’s room
always started an ugly laughter in Arthur Weasley’s throat. But every
night, he complied and assured Charlie he was safe and had nothing to
fear. It was a lie of course. They both knew it.
Charlie knew he was right to be scared
when he was eight and he saw his mother cry for the first time. He
entered the kitchen one morning and saw her curled on her chair, a
piece of parchement resting on the table. Charlie sneaked in to try
and read the paper. His first fear was that something happened to one
of his brothers. Because that was what his dad and mum often talked
about when they thought Bill and Charlie were asleep. The words were
small and complicated, but Charlie could decypher two names, Fabian
and Gideon. His parents hated lying to their children, so they told
them that their uncles were fighting You-Know-Who and died. They
didn’t say they were killed, but Charlie kind of understood that. He
wasn’t sure what death really was just yet, but Bill told him it
meant he would never see his uncles again. When he saw the twin
caskets, a couple days later and watched them disappear in the
ground, Charlie cried. He didn’t make a noise, because no one was
talking, and you’re not supposed to be loud if everyone else is
quiet. He simply gripped Bill’s hand and followed him around. For
years, Charlie would dream of twin caskets in which his siblings were
At school, Charlie was gentle and
popular enough that people didn’t make fun of him if he ever got
surprised crying because he was missing his brothers and sister. They
would simply go look for Bill, and later Percy, and either would
comfort him and help him write letters home. Charlie was terribly bad
with words and never knew how to get his thoughts across. In return
for his letters, he would get drawings and pictures. He kept them
preciously in his bedside table.
When he was thirteen, Charlie kissed a
girl. She was pretty and smelled nice but even he didn’t feel much.
There was no butterfly or firework in his belly like he’d been told
he’d feel. At sixteen, Charlie kissed a boy, and though it was nice
enough too, it wasn’t special enough to have him wanting to do it
often. He’d learned about dragons the previous year though, during a
class of Care About Magical Creatures. That lit his eyes up and made
him daydream far more than any kisses could.
Charlie left Hogwarts the summer before
Ron entered it. He left home in August, and headed to Romania to
study dragons. He’d already read every book from the Library and was
ready to meet people who’d understand his passion. Charlie made
friends, and was teased for chosing a hermit life in forests with
giant lizards over becoming a Quidditch star. He didn’t mind, because
at the end of the day, he got to see dragon eggs and share hot cocoa
with his colleagues. The highlight of his year was still when his
parents and sister came to visit. He also managed to get Bill to drop
by. They got drunk and Bill listened to him cry about how much he
missed all of their siblings. Charlie kept the drawings and
photographs in a tiny box in his trunk. When spring came around and
he received Ron’s letter asking him to smuggle a baby dragon, all his
friends exploded in laughter and were ready to go before he even
finished his explanations. They already knew Charlie would do
anything for his siblings.
Charlie wasn’t there when Ron got hurt
saving the world at the end of his first year. He came back for summer and bought Ron as many
candies as he could eat. Sometimes, being a good brother is in discreet celebrations.
Charlie wasn’t there when his baby
sister got possessed and left for dead in a mythical chamber. When summer came and Ginny left school,
paler and more silenced than ever, Charlie kept a vigilant eye on
her. He didn’t go back to Romania for months. And when Arthur won the
Daily Prophet Grand Prise Galleon Draw, Charlie was the one to
suggest they should all go visit Bill. Sometimes, being a good
brother is knowing your presence and a change of scenary are the best
Charlie was there when the Death Eaters
attacked supporters celebrating a victory - or drinking the bitter
taste of loss away. He went to fight alongside the Ministry to
protect his siblings and everyone who needed it. He also stayed the
rest of the summer in the Burrow. Sometimes, being a good brother is
making sure your siblings and their friends have an open ear if they
need to talk their fears away.
Charlie wasn’t there when Harry, his
adopted but estranged sibling, watched Voldemort come back from the
dead. From Charlie’s childhood nightmares. He learned about it in one
of Ginny’s letters and got his worst burns when her words resonnated
in his head as he was tending a dragon. In his head, Ginny had that
same terrified voice as when she was twelve and asking him if Tom
would come back. Charlie felt like he’d been lying to her for years,
telling her she was safe and had nothing to fear. That Tom would never come back. Sometimes, being a
good brother is forgetting how life doesn’t always follow your hopes.
Charlie wasn’t there when his father
got attacked by an evil snake. Charlie wasn’t there when Dumbledore’s tiny army raided the
Ministry. He came back to see the greying hair on his father’s head
and the scars on Ron’s arms. Ron laughed it off. Charlie cried it
out. Sometimes, being a good brother is shading tears other people
Charlie lived in Romania. He loved it,
loved the people, the country, and above all his job. But when
Charlie came back to Bill’s comatose and broken face, he considered
never leaving again. Bill had always been his best friend, his safety in
the chaos that was their family. Charlie hugged Fleur and helped her chose her wedding dress. He
was Bill’s best man and joked, more than once, that Bill was actually
the best man he knew. The three of them got drunk at a pub a few
miles from the Burrow and he recalled every embarassing moment of
Bill’s childhood. Sometimes, being a good brother is making your
sibling blush and hit you in the face as their fiancée is bending in
laughter and coughing beer out of her nose.
Charlie wasn’t there when Fred died.
Charlie was there to see his mother cry
and his brothers collapse.
Charlie was there to see Ginny stand,
tall and proud and clutching Harry’s hand so she wouldn’t get lost.
Sometimes, being a good brother is
knowing that there are days when you can’t be the good brother.
Charlie was there when Victoire was
Charlie was there to see Bill cry and
his siblings scream.
Charlie was there to hold the tiny baby
and let her grip his finger.
Charlie was there when Ginny wrote that
she was pregnant and wanted to see him. Everytime.
Charlie was there when Fred II asked to
learn how to fly and neither George nor Angelina had the heart to
Charlie was there when Lucy got in
another fight with her parents and needed a place to let her anger
out. He was also there to bring her back home and make sure she’d
apologize to Percy.
Charlie was there when Hugo felt
inadequate and lonely in their giant family.
Charlie was there to talk about kissing
boys and girls, about how sometimes people liked it and sometimes
they just didn’t care.
Charlie was there to give pets as
presents, as siblings and in-laws pretended they didn’t know about
Charlie was there every step of the way
in his nieces and nefews’ lifes.
He quickly needed a larger box to
gather all the drawings and pictures he kept receiving. (Hermione
gave him an enchanted one)
Sometimes, being a good brother is
being a good uncle.
If requests are open could I request a charlie mcavoy where he comes back from a game he lost and he’s just down but you help him through and cuddle After?? Thanks 😙😙
Song suggestion of the day: stoned on you by James young
Tbh my experience is like DONT TALK ABOUT THE LOSS. like tell them you love ‘or whatever’ them and like you thought they played good and then like let it go.
Poor lawson, Charlie levelled him good lmao
The front door closed loudly with something that was quite a slam but wasn’t exactly gentle either. There was a muffled thud that followed, which you knew was the sound of his bag hitting the floorboards. The game hadn’t been pretty and it had definitely been rough on Charlie so his reaction was understandable. You felt awful for him though.
“Hey,” you greeted softly as he wandered past and into the kitchen for a post-game snack. He barely glanced at you, making a small noise in response before he was shuffling around in the kitchen. You always wished he wouldn’t take the losses so personally, it wasn’t fair for him to do that to himself. You stood from your spot on the couch and walked over to join him in the kitchen where he was stood, lent back against the kitchen bench and glaring at midair as he took a chunk out of an apple. Your head titled unconsciously as you watched him do so with a sad, sympathetic smile, moving forward to place a soothing hand on his arm. He continued glaring at that one spot and didn’t bother glancing up to look at you. You did feel the corners of your mouth curve upwards when he moved his hand to rest it on yours. You tangled your fingers with his against his arm and glanced up at him. On any other occasion, it would have made you giggle, him doing something so cute while still looking so grumpy. Right then, though, you appreciated why he did it. He was furious, but he didn’t want to lash out at you, he appreciated your concern but he just didn’t feel like talking. If that wasn’t the cutest thing, you didn’t know what was. Even though he was so mad and hurt, he still was so considerate. It made your heart swell. You leaned back against the bench beside him, resting your head against his shoulder. If you’d ever seen someone angrily eat an apple, this was it. Once he’d whittled it down to the core, he moved to throw it in the trash, still holding your hand gently. He turned back to face you and you gave him a small smile as you looked up at him before leaning up to kiss the little scratch he had above his eye. He smiled weakly at that.
“I’m always so proud watching you play.” you reminded him. “I thought you did well.”
“That’s because you’re biased.” he informed you, letting go of your hand to wrap you up in a hug.
“You’re a good thing to be biased towards.” you told him with a grin, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your head against his chest.
“Good to hear.” he replied, smiling softly. You could tell he was still really upset about the game. You saw it lingering in the back of his eyes and it caused you to pout up at him.
He glanced at you. “Don’t look at me like that.” he murmured quietly. You continued to pout, rubbing gentle circles into his back as you attempted to work out the tension there. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You looking at me like that just makes me feel worse. I don’t like making you sad.” he whispered quickly, hugging you tightly against himself and kissing the skin of your jaw that was pressed up right next to the side of his face.
“I don’t like you being sad.” you grumbled, pulling back to kiss his nose.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
You whined exasperatedly at him, making him laugh. “No.” you told him, pecking his lips quickly before continuing. “Don’t apologise for that. It makes my heart hurt.”
He laughed when you sent him a glare and squeezed him in a hug. “No more sorries tonight.” you told him sternly.
Neelesh invited Charly out to Geekcon so he could talk to her about not telling him about Warren.
neelesh: so, what the hell charlz? charly: what? neelesh: why didn’t you tell me about warren? charly: oh fuck.. neelesh: yeah. what the hell? charly: nee, i dont kn- neelesh: dont call me that…. charly: what? :( neelesh: i dont know if i can trust you honestly… charly: please..just come back to my place and i can explain everything to you.