Bea 🐝

I don't have a lot of content, but as I write more I think this is the easiest way to keep myself straight.

Dr. Jack Abbot -- The Pitt

One Shots:

The Girls, Gays, and SWAT

Holding Hands through a Warzone

Andrew "Pope" Cody -- Animal Kingdom

Series:

The Decision to Stay - Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Personal Thoughts

Saw this and IMMEDIATELY thought of Jack because that man would act annoyed by the small act of kissing the camera. BUT you know he's such a loverboy that no one is making him do anything.

"Seriously?" You laugh. "Yes, seriously." Jack lets out an exaggerated sigh, rubbing a hand over his gray stubbled face. "This is ridiculous." "...Jack" "I'm a grown man." He then rolls his eyes so hard that, for a second, you think he's about to hang up. Instead, he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like unbelievable, but leans toward the phone and presses a quick kiss to the camera. "Happy?" You grin, because there isn't something you haven't won. "Very." He shakes his head, smiling, a light cranberry blush rushing to his cheeks. "You're lucky I love you," he retorts as if he isn't giddy himself, knowing he has you in his bed back home. "Yeah yeah yeah," you mock. "Have a good shift, Dr. Abbot," you say, winking. "Don't 'Dr. Abbot' me," he huffs, looking betrayed by the formality. "Sorry." You fight a smile. "Have a good shift...Doctor." He smiles, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, but the smile never leaves. His gaze softens. His eyes linger on you; his heart chirps in his chest like he's 15, flirting with his crush. "I love you," he says. There is no joke tucked inside it. No sarcasm. Just certainty, the certainty of someone who says these words because he means them every single time. "I love you too." He holds your gaze for another moment. Then, without any prompting or begging, he leans in and kisses the phone. "See you at home." "See you at home." Neither of you hangs up. You both wait for the other to do it first. He laughs, "Go back to sleep." "Go save lives." "I'm working on it" "I know." He smiles one last time before the screen goes dark.

—————————-

THIS IS A SAFE SPACE

I love your stuff!!!

followed!

I'm so curious cause I am like having a "Fre shavocado" moment, is your username written-forME or written-forme/form

its like Shop Missa/Shop Miss A pronunciation moment

I promise I'm not a weirdo I know this ask is seriously all over the place but yes. 😆😀

I just wanted to say Hi. 👋

Hi sweets! It’s Written For Me :) but my name is Bea and I made this account when I was deeeeeeep in the trenches of the Dexter fandom and thought about writing my own fics. Dexter evolved to School Spirits which went to The Pitt which then went to Aninal Kingdom and that’s where I’m at right now.

I’m a longtime fangirl and won’t ever give that up so I got back on tumblr this year and started to write as an out since I am in school and needed a break from always writing academically.

Pope never had any pets growing up. Smurf always claimed him, Julia, Craig, and Deran were enough mouths to feed. Then Baz came along, and whatever chance there'd been of getting a dog was burned to ashes. So when you asked him for one, he was hesitant. "A dog?" he questioned, his brows knitting together. "Why?" You'd been rehearsing this conversation for weeks, and somehow every reason you'd come up with suddenly sounded ridiculous. "I don't know…" You shrugged. "Protection, I guess. Dogs are good for your mental health… they promote a good lifestyle." He smirked, a quiet breath of laughter escaping through his nose. "A good lifestyle?" he echoed. The phrase sounded almost funny coming from him. You couldn't help but smile. "I mean… yeah." His eyes settled back on yours. You hadn't looked away once. You were serious. And you were asking, not because Pope ran the house—you'd made that man yours a long time ago—but because you knew him. You knew he was… particular. Turning labels outward in the pantry. Making sure nothing sat out longer than it should. Smoothing the bedspread with the palm of his hand every morning before leaving the room. Those little tics had subsided for the most part as he became more comfortable in his environment and didn't move through life like he was borrowing room in the atmosphere. Still, he liked his life put together. "You're serious about a dog, aren't you?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You were already grinning, perched on the edge of the bed, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. "I know you aren't keen on the idea, my love." You stood, crossing the room until your hands rested on his shoulders. Your fingers found the ginger curls at the base of his neck, absentmindedly twirling them between your fingertips. "I just think it'd be fun." He nodded. "And…" You hesitated. "I think it's important to know how the other person takes care of something before it's a baby." His gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips. A baby. Not if. Not maybe. Just… a baby. A future. One that included him as though there had never been another possibility. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss beside the corner of your mouth. "Andrew…" you laughed quietly. Another kiss. "Andrew David." "Mhm." "Are you even listening to me?" Another absent hum vibrated against your skin. You smiled despite yourself. "I don't think you heard a word I just said." "I did." "Oh?" "I'll get you a dog, baby." You blinked. "Really?" He finally met your eyes again. "Really." Relief and excitement flashed across your face so quickly it made something warm settle in his chest. "But…" You narrowed your eyes playfully. "I pick the breed." Pope claims. "If that dog's supposed to keep you safe…" His thumb brushed gently across your cheek. "I want nothing but the best." A grin spread across your face. "Deal. Done. Fine." You threw your arms around his neck, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away just as fast. "Oh my God, Andrew! We're getting a dog!" Before he could answer, you were already halfway back across the room, reaching for your laptop. "I was thinking maybe a Golden Retriever… or a German Shepherd? Oh! Bernese Mountain Dogs are so cute." Pope watched you disappear into a rabbit hole of breed comparisons and adoption websites, listening to you ramble to yourself as you clicked from one page to the next. He smiled. Truth be told, he'd made up his mind before you'd even finished asking. Because somewhere along the way, he'd decided that if he could give you something that made your eyes light up like this… He would.

Little ADHD tendencies. The cabinet doors left hanging open. The bed never quite made. Three different outfits discarded on my side of the room because I changed my mind twice before settling on one. Sticky notes covering every available surface in an attempt to organize thoughts that never seem willing to stay in one place.

It would make him tense his shoulders.

Not because he was angry, but because he wouldn't understand how someone so driven, so successful, could overlook things that seemed so obvious to him.

AND HE NOTICES EVERYTHING!

"Andrew, have you seen my phone? I have to leave in twenty minutes and I can't find it."

"Have you made coffee yet?"

"Yeah, but I don't understand what that has to do with—"

Without a word, he walks past me, opens the refrigerator, and pulls my phone from the shelf beside the oat milk.

I stare.

"How did you know it was there?"

He just looks at me.

Because of course he knew.

Not because he's psychic, but because after enough time together, he'd learn the way my brain works. The places things end up. The patterns hidden inside the chaos.

And eventually, I think he'd stop seeing the mess first.

He'd start seeing everything attached to it.

BUT then Craig and Deran would inevitably leave their own messes around the house.

A milk carton abandoned on the counter.

Dirty plates left in the sink.

Shoes kicked off in the middle of the hallway.

Pope would immediately start in on them.

And Craig, because he's Craig, would point toward me.

"Oh, so when she does it, it's fine?"

Pope wouldn't even hesitate.

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because hers isn't on purpose. You're just lazy."

The thing is, he'd still find it annoying when I left cabinet doors open.

He'd still follow behind me closing them.

He'd still grumble under his breath while picking up clothes from the floor.

But somewhere along the way, the annoyance would become inseparable from affection.

Maybe that's why I can picture him slipping a sticky note onto my desk before leaving for the day.

Nothing dramatic.

Nothing overly sentimental.

Just a small square of paper tucked between my planner and laptop.

Have a good day.

I love you most.

To be loved is to be seen 🪞

I opened my mailbox the other day and there was a big package in there, it had my boyfriend’s name on it. Confused, I opened it and inside was not one but two Variety magazines featuring Shawn’s cover. (We are long distance so getting his mail isn’t normal)

I bought tickets to meet Shawn in Nov. and am gonna have him autograph one!!

My Pope playlist - Spotify

Shawn Hatosy curated one of his own for Pope. So here is mine:

This playlist isn't meant to tell Pope's story, but rather to inhabit his emotional landscape. Every track I chose was for both its lyrics and sonic texture. To me, Pope exists in the tension between violence and vulnerability, where love is often confused with survival and grief wears the mask of anger.

I connect and process a lot through music so please feel free to let me know what you think. The selection was specific and I have notes on why I believe each song fits.

With love, Bea

“C’mon, Bryant. It’s one dance. Live a little.”

Before Sammy can object, his partner is already peeling a crisp hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and tucking it into the dancer’s bra with a grin. Sammy spends the entire song staring at the floor, apologizing more than talking, and leaves the club convinced he’ll never think about the encounter again.

The next morning, the Hollywood Division is buzzing. New detective. Fresh off a long undercover assignment.

The bullpen quiets as heels click against the tile.

Sammy looks up.

It’s her.

Gone are the glitter and stage lights. She’s in a fitted collared shirt with a detective’s badge clipped to her belt, introducing herself like they’ve never met. His partner goes completely pale.

She makes it through the introductions, then walks straight to Sammy’s desk. Without a word, she sets a neatly folded hundred-dollar bill in front of him.

“I think this belongs to you.”

Sammy opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.

This is the second chapter of "The Decision to Stay" which is a romance between Pope "Andrew" Cody and an original character Beckett Graves.

OC's may not be everyone's favorite but I have done some development on my sweet Beckett and love her dearly. I devoted a lot of time to her and her dynamic which is why I knew she needed a name and a personality all her own.

Summary: After a stressful first day in Oceanside, Beckett returns to a house full of unpacked boxes and memories of the life she left behind. While settling in, she reconnects with her best friend, Cherry, over FaceTime. Their easy banter and unexpected plans to reunite offer Beckett a much-needed reminder that, even in an unfamiliar place, she isn't starting over alone.

If you want to read the story on WattPad click here.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2:

The front door doesn’t open when she turns the knob. The day is already sitting heavy on her shoulders, and the stuck door doesn’t help. She throws her weight into it until it finally gives, sending the boxes stacked behind it tumbling to the floor and taking her down with them.

“Fuck,” she mumbles while slipping off her heels and dusting her hands off on her gray suit pants and pushing the boxes farther out of the way so she can close the door behind her. The house feels crowded with boxes and somehow still vacant, every room swallowed by cardboard. 

She puts her purse on the kitchen table that’s somehow in the living room and drapes her jacket over the chair. Her hair has started falling from her bun and she ends up pulling the pins free, and her sandy blonde hair falls to brush her shoulders. She pulls a box over to her and flips it open trying to figure out where everything is and should start to go. 

The first thing she pulls from the box is her law school diploma in a gold frame. 

Beckett Graves, Juris Doctor.

University of California, Davis Law School

Beckett smiles despite herself, remembering that day.

 It was so incredibly hot and the dark blue gown soaked up so much sun. She remembers how her grandma and grandpa couldn’t both smile and keep their eyes open for a picture. After they took pictures her grandpa looked at her with tears in his eyes threatening to spill over,

“I am so proud of you, Beck,” he’d whispered, straightening her stole. “I know we all are.” 

The next picture frame in the box was the picture from that day, the one where they finally are all smiling and looking at the camera. Beneath it was a selfie. The photographer had turned the camera around at the last second, catching Beckett with her eyes squeezed shut from laughing while Cherry her red hair spilling over one shoulder, leaned into the frame with puckered lips.Beckett giggled at the picture and moved it into a separate pile deciding she wanted that one at her desk at work. 

Beckett’s world was small but it was well documented. Photos tucked into gold and silver frames captured birthdays, graduations, vacations, and ordinary afternoons that become worth remembering. 

Beneath them sat a stack of law books and a half-finished journal. Beckett thumbed through the pages, finding entries interrupted by doodles that wandered into the margins. Faces, flowers, strange little creatures, absentminded pen sketches filling spaces where words didn’t seem to do justice. She smiled to herself before setting it aside, unsure why she decided it was important enough to bring with her. 

Her phone buzzed somewhere inside her purse. Beckett carefully stepped over the scattered books frames and contents of boxes that had spilled across the floor until she found it. 

Cherry’s name flashed across the screen.

Cherry 🍒 Mercer: Are you going to show me your new place???

Beckett Graves: It looks like a wreck. The movers dropped things anywhere!

Cherry 🍒 Mercer: Like I care! You have a house! This is so exciting!! I’m calling!

Moments later Cherry’s face appeared on Beckett’s phone. Cherry screamed the second Beckett answered. Beckett scrunched her nose, her freckles bunching together as a snorting giggle escaped her before she could stop it.

“Oh my God, I missed your face!,” Cherry exclaims, her ginger hair glowing in the warm light of her living room. She was sprawled across the couch with a grilled cheese in one hand, looking perfectly at home. 

“You have no idea how happy I am that you called. I miss you,” Beckett said, tucking her legs beneath her and sitting cross-legged on the floor among a sea of half-open boxes. “It’s been three days, and my only company has been these boxes.”

“Beckett Graves,” Cherry scolded through a mouthful of grilled cheese, a strand of melted cheese stretching from her sandwich, “you’ve only been there a few days. Will you cut the dramatics?”

“Wow. Pulling out the government name already? Chloe Mercer, I am hurt,” Beckett replies, rolling her eyes.

“Eww,” Cherry groaned dramatically. “No one has called me Chloe since sixth grade. Enough stalling show me your house!”

Beckett stood and turned the camera around.

The hardwood floors stretched through the open living room toward a set of sliding glass doors that overlooked the beach beyond.

Cherry gasped. “You have a back patio?” 

“Yeah,” Beckett said, unable to hide her excitement. “And the view is incredible. I can see the ocean, and there’s a ladder off the porch that goes straight down to the sand.”

She slowly panned across the room before turning toward the kitchen.

“There’s a little kitchen off the living room, then a hallway back to my bedroom, the bathroom and a spare room. I’m thinking about turning that into a makeshift office with a couch or something so I have somewhere to dump all these law books and case files.”

“Wait, go back. Show me the kitchen. No, go to the bedroom! Is it big,” Cherry asks, losing her train of thought.

“Girl slow down,” Beckett laughed, spinning in another circle with her phone. “I can only show you so fast.” 

“Oh! I almost forgot.”

“What”

“You need to get those boxes unpacked.”

Beckett frowned. “Why?”

“Becuase I refuse to sleep without a proper blanket.”

Silence falls between the two women.

“...Wait what are you talking about,” Beckett asks, turning the camera around toward herself, confusion written all over her face.

Cherry’s grin spread wider.

“You seriously didn’t think my best friend was going to move to a beach town and I wasn’t going to be there immediately,” Cherry exclaims.

Beckett’s eyes widened, as tears started to form, distorting the vision of her best friend on the other end.

 “Oh Beck,” Cherry said, softening when she saw her expression. “Don’t cry. This is supposed to be fun.”

“I know,” Beckett said with a soft laugh looking up at the ceiling to keep tears from falling. “It’s just…moving’s been weird. Everything at work is new, I’m meeting clients on my own, and I feel like I’m constantly waiting to mess something up.”

She looked down at the clutter surrounding her before meeting Cherry’s eyes again through the screen.

“I’m just really glad you’re coming.”

Cherry pointed her last bite of grilled cheese toward the camera.

“Good. Because I plan on stealing one of your sweatshirts, taking over your kitchen, and making fun of whatever organizational system led to…all that.” She gestured vaguely at the mountain of boxes.

Beckett laughed through the tears threatening to form.

“You mean my complete lack of an organizational system?”

“Exactly.”

This is a new story I'm working on because I miss Pope Cody like a motherfucker.

The Decision to Stay - Chapter 1

Summary: As a new neighbor's belongings are unloaded into their new home in Oceanside, the quiet move immediately catches the attention of the Cody family next door.

cw: references to alcohol and marijuana use, Cody family dynamics

If you want to read the story on WattPad click here.

Chapter 1:

“Hey asshole be careful I don’t want to have to replace the liftgate again because you weren’t paying attention when backing up,” the man yelled from the doorway as the box truck backed up the driveway. When the engine cut the man driving flung the door open and hopped out. He was matching the man who stood at the front door of the home, khaki shorts and a khaki shop shirt with a Mikey’s Moving Co. patch sewn on the left side where one would expect a shirt pocket to be. 

Across the way an older woman stood next to her pool wrapped in a white see through swim coverup. She had on black sunglasses adorned in gold accents. She set down a pitcher of fresh lemonade as three young men jumped on each other in the pool chasing after a basketball that was floating away. Empty beer bottles lined the side of the pool like they were decorations and not evidence of a Saturday morning well spent. The woman whose hair was as almost white blonde as her swimsuit watched the movers unload boxes off the white box truck and into the home next door, before turning to go inside. 

“Looks like the neighborhood is growing,” the woman said as she rounded the island in the kitchen grabbing a large knife from the wooden block on the counter. She smiled but it didn’t quite meet her eyes, they were hazel and empty as if nothing she ever saw or encountered was enough to make a lasting impression to soften the hard irises. She grabbed the pineapple from the fridge and set it on a cutting board looking at two other young men. The taller one stood on the other side of the island next to the fridge. He ran his hand through his blonde hair and raised his eyebrow at the other man sitting across from him.

His hair was shorter, auburn but his hazel eyes had a similar thousand yard stare like the woman standing at the helm of the island slicing a knife through a pineapple and plopping pieces in a Tupperware dish.

“Want me to go check it out, see who’s going to be living there and for how long,” the auburn hair man asks and turns his view to the woman as she ate a piece of the pineapple sucking her finger to remove the sticky juice that ran down her hand and arm.

“Oh no baby that’s okay we can send Baz over there, he’s more of a people person anyway,” the woman cooed back and looked over at the taller man smiling making sure he understood the direction for him to go and check out what was going to be going on at the house next door was now his responsibility. Baz tilted the beer bottle to his lips, finishing it off and nodded. 

“Heard loud and clear, Smurf,” he replied leaving the empty bottle on the island and popping a piece of the pineapple into his mouth before exiting the kitchen. 

“You don’t need to send Baz to do everything now, you know,” the auburn haired man sat at the table looking at his hands, he spoke slowly and quietly as if almost to no one, but the woman, Smurf, nods and walks toward the trash tossing the the discarded pineapple remnants into the garbage. Her dismissal of his comment angers him and he stands up sending the chair he was sitting in flying backward. He grabs the knife Smurf was using to cut the pineapple and thrust it down stabbing the cutting board so hard the knife stood upward on its own before storming out of the kitchen.

“Pope, don’t be that way,” Smurf called after him before opening the back door to offer the three other men some freshly cut pineapple. 

---

Baz was outside in the backyard watching the three other men stop attacking each other to shovel fresh fruit into their mouths. Choruses of thank yous came from them, Baz leaned down and took some of the pool water splashing it in his face and smoothing it through his hair.

He took his shirt off and left it on one of the pool chairs before exiting the side of the house. He jogged in place long enough to look like he’d actually been running, then slowed his breathing like he’d take a detour from his normal route. 

He walked with his hands above his head over to the neighboring house where the khaki clad men unloaded more boxes. 

“Which one of you is the new owner,” Baz called out pretending to catch his breath. 

“Neither one of us,” one of the movers said, huffing and wiping the sweat from his face with a towel he kept tucked into his shorts. “She was supposed to meet us here this morning, but called and said there was an emergency at work and offered us an extra hundred bucks each if we went ahead with the move.”

Baz nodded slowly letting that settle as he pretended to take his pulse post run. 

Who could be working on a Saturday that has two hundred extra dollars and enough trust to just let people move her stuff into a new place?

“Sorry for bothering you,” he said taking a deep breath, “My mom lives next door so you know you can never be too careful nowadays,” Baz continued smiling. He had a nice smile, a quarterback of the winning team smile, something that earned people’s trust without them really knowing why.

“You’re good, man. Younger girl, pretty, quiet, professional. Seemed like she just wanted it done fast,” the worker responded leaning against the truck thankful for this small break as the California sun beat down and radiated off the concrete. 

“Right well, thanks guys,” Baz responded and took off in a slight jog toward Smurf’s hoping that what he got would be enough to satisfy her for now

-  -  - 

Back at the house Smurf sits on a pool chair watching her boys. The one with the long hair leans back on his hand while pulling a joint from his lips and expelling smoke into the air and passing it to the other man, who mirrors the motion and lets it spill back into the day. The youngest boy was still in the pool, the water sloshing lightly against his chest as he drifts between noise and silence. 

He doesn’t say much. Just watches. 

Smurf shift forward in her chair as Baz comes into view.

“Well that didn’t take you too long baby what’d you learn,” Smurf asks and pats the pool chair between her legs without looking away from him, already making space. 

Baz lowers himself into it, settling in as if he belongs there and pulls his dark gray t-shirt back on. The fabric sticking to his skin from the fake sweat and the new sweat he acquired when committing to the run. 

Pope sits at a table near the door looking at everyone, not saying anything not looking like he belonged there. His jaw set in a way that doesn’t loosen for anything. When Baz arrives, Pope stands immediately, like he’s been waiting, since it was his idea to gather intel on the new neighbor to begin with. 

“Owner wasn’t there,” Baz began. “Moving guys said she got a work call this morning. Paid them extra to finish the job without her.” Baz finished lifting his hands as if telling Smurf to go easy because that’s all he could gather. 

Smurf nods once, slowly. Letting the information sit.

Female. Working. Organized enough to control timing. Money available. No hesitation about leaving it to others.

“A woman,” Pope asks, not looking at anyone in particular.

“Yeah,” Baz replies. “Younger. Pretty. Quiet. Professional. Said she just wanted it done fast. 

Smurf’s expression doesn’t change, but something in her focus tightens slightly. The silence in the yard lingered not empty but minds sorting information into what could be helpful and potentially harmful. 

Smurf leans back against the chair, the tight line of her smile returning.

“It’s about time the neighborhood gets a few more women around,” she says. 

Like it means nothing at all. 

But no one laughs.

I know exactly when I became a Shawn Hatosy fan, though I didn't realize it at the time.

First, it was Criminal Minds. Then Dexter. Then Law & Order. It seemed that every time I became invested in a show with a passionate, long-standing fanbase, Shawn Hatosy would eventually appear. Not always as the lead. Not always as a flashy name splashed across promotional material. But he was there.

Following his work eventually led me to projects like Southland and Animal Kingdom, where I found myself paying attention not only to the characters he portrayed but the creative instincts behind them. Over time, I began to notice a pattern: Hatosy had a way of making the world around him, around his characters feel richer, more believable, and ultimately more memorable.

This is what makes the response to him in recent years so incredibly interesting to watch.

For much of his career, at least what I can remember, Hatosy has occupied a unique space in television. He has consistently appeared in projects that develop loyal audiences, yet he has often remained slightly outside the center of the spotlight. His work has been visible, but the conversation hasn't always been about him.

And finally! That seems to be changing!

In interviews and public appearances, as of late, Hatosy often gives the impression of someone more comfortable discussing the work rather than discussing himself. Whether that impression is accurate is impossible for me or any fan really to know. Still, there is something compelling about watching an actor who has spend decades serving stories suddenly become part of the story himself.

What's especially fascinating is that much of this enthusiasm comes from viewers discovering his work in new ways! Some people are finding him through The Pitt. Others are revisiting older projects and connecting to previous characters while also connecting the dots across a career that spans decades of television and film.

What makes this moment meaningful isn't that Shawn Hatosy has suddenly become talented. The qualities audiences are responding to today have been there. What's changed is that more people are noticing them, not just the performances, but the creative mind behind them as an actor, director, and storyteller.

Perhaps that's why this doesn't feel like a breakthrough. It feels like a well earned expansion! It's amazing to see a continuation of a conversation that has been lingering for years.