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Just mouthed ‘aww’ to myself while writing about a grown ass man snoring. Mortifying. I need to explode
#mortifying experience#this is about Lincoln Li-Wilson btw#I know he’s not canonically a grown ass man (until the epilogue)#but this fic is post-canon soooo he is like 30-something#granted I imagine he probably looks a lot like his teen self except with a shitty beard#I’ve also said this before but I think he looks like Darnell :) not that he even remotely has a canon appearance#but he looks like the Darnell that lives in my brain okay#I don’t usually visualize characters unless I’ve seen drawings of them.. and I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen anyone draw Darnell??#but for some reason he is the one character where I’m like. yeah I know exactly what he looks like#I need to stop Wilsonposting it is HUMILIATING. and yet <3 I love them#Darnell is not a Wilson but you get the point#chalcy stuff#don’t. read this. covers face 🫣#who am I kidding I have posted so much worse (more self-indulgent/embarrassing stuff)#I made the mistake of looking through this blog’s archive again a few days ago and oh boy#I guess none of it is that bad. I’m just overflowing with love for these podcast guys. unfortunately
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I was wondering if you would be willing to share the titles of your resilience-inspiring lesbian farm books? My google search led me to a book titled “Attack of the Lesbian Farmers” which, while certainly inspiring, is not exactly what I was looking for.
Here are two very different books in the Farm Lesbians Write Honestly About What Went Wrong And How They Got Through It genre. Hopefully at least one is to your taste.
It's nearly fifty years old now, and can be hard to find, but Country Women: A Handbook for the New Farmer is deeply important to me. Country Women was a black and white xeroxed magazine written by a collective of woman-run farms in California in the 1960s. (There are some issues scanned at the Lesbian Poetry Archive). Each issue was half articles about feminism and half articles about small-scale farming. In the 1970s, the how-to articles on farming were expanded and organized to make the book, along with some scattered journal entries, lovely hippie-style line drawings and poetry about wood splitting, bees, and gazing at one's beloved while fixing the tractor on a summer day. The contributors have names like Jean and Ruth Mountaingrove, Ellen Chanterelle, and Sam♀ Thomas.
It's written in an informal and pragmatic style, mostly organic hippie farming, but using pesticides or conventional medications when necessary.
This afternoon the Anderson brothers began teaching me how to graft fruit trees - the careful joining of life with life. Even more than I loved gaining a new skill, I loved learning from two old men who have so very much to teach me. I admire the audacity of eighty-three-year-old men setting grafts that will not bear fruit for years: the total involvement in a process they love. Those trees will stand and live; I doubt whether Jake or Fred even stop to wonder if they'll pick the fruit. I want to live my life with that kind of harmony and purpose. I want to be planting seeds the day I die.
The first lamb was born today. Premature and dead. Olivia, the mother, seems to be all right though. I had a dream a few weeks ago that the lambs were born tiny (like mice) and pink. And that I struggled to save them, but they were too small to feed. The lamb today was small and pink, its fleece plastered against its body, thin and sparse. For a moment it was nightmareishly like my dream... This is my first animal death. The beginning of a long cycle. It seems even harder to have death come before life, than to have an old one die giving birth. Hopes for the future stillborn.
Driving home today, I suddenly realized that this really is going to be a sheep ranch, that I have done, and am doing, and will do it. That I'm making my livelihood from the land. The canyon is fenced now. There are sheep out there on pastures that were open hillsides two years ago.
The very act of building this place, the simple actions of tamping dirt, stretching wire, dumping hay in feeders, has profoundly changed my sense of self. I'm doing things I never dreamed I could do, and I'm doing them easily without even considering whether I really can. Last night I was talking with Susan about fencing the front meadow for feeder calves, and I realized that I could say that realistically, no fantasizing, no bragging: I can fence the front meadow as soon as I get done with the hay barn and get a little more money.
Like almost every other farmer in America today, I'm in debt and hoping for a good season. I'm only at the beginning now, and I know there are many struggles to come and overcome and come again: Someday I too, like my neighbours, will be counting carcasses killed by a marauding dog or watching the spring oats be wash away in an "unheard of" late storm. No matter how prepared I am, there us always that vulnerability - to the weather, other animals, disease - that seems to strike when things are finally going smoothly. But inside me there is also this incredible joy: This life is real and good, and it has made me strong and real and good too.
I gotta stop or I'll type the whole book into this post. One more:
My father is here this week ... working on the truck whose engine has been alien to me. I am learning now what I could have learned at 7, 11, 15. Beneath my truck, side by side, lie his seven-year-old son and his twenty-five-year-old daughter, both of us learning for the first time how bearings fit together, how to remove pistons. And here beneath this truck the patriarchy stops: he has passed his knowledge to his daughter, and from me it will pass to sisters, from sister to sister to sister.
That's this book. The things women weren't supposed to know in the sixties. They found people to teach them; they taught each other; they learned through bitter loss. The book says: we have gone before you and you are not alone. Here is what we have learned, and here is how we have learned it. We have failed, and we have wept, and we have gotten up and gone on, and it was alright. Here is the fire, passed from hand to hand to hand. Here is the light that will never be put out.
The week after we first got goats, we received a package in the mail from my coolest relative, a veterinarian who was the first woman to graduate with a specialization in large animal medicine at her school. People thought that women just weren't physically capable of handling large animals. (Hint: the bull weights 1100 kilograms. It doesn't much matter if the veterinarian weighs 50 kilograms or 150 kilograms.) I remember staying with her a child, in summer, laying on the stainless steel operating table in the barn; it always felt cool when the heat was unbearable.
The package, of course, contained Country Women. An old well-loved copy, with notes on long-ago calving dates penciled in the margins, and random scraps of paper with sketches of possible gardens and goat sheds as bookmarks. A light passed from hand to hand, a light that will not go out. It was like receiving a video game quest artifact.
Country Women is rooted in second wave feminism, which is not everyone's cup of tea. For something more modern and story-focussed, consider Hit By A Farm or Sheepish by Catherine Friend. These are collections of short, funny autobiographical essays about farming and relationships. Their tone is honest and wry, self-deprecating. You can see Catherine Friend's blog here and decide if you like her writing style. She wanted to call Hit By A Farm "Sheep Sex and Other Disasters" but her editor didn't think it would sell.
In Hit By A Farm, Catherine - a professional writer - goes along with her partner Melissa's lifelong desire to ranch sheep, and describes the results from the perspective of the slightly reluctant farmer's wife as they start a farm in Minnesota. Sheepish is written fifteen years later, when they're thinking about quitting the farm, after all the shiny newness of farming and the relationship has worn off. There are different mistakes then, different sorrows, and new joys.
From Sheepish:
We rarely pay attention to middles. Perhaps we ignore them because they're problematic. The middles of our beds often sag. The middles of our bodies sag. The middle of a long story told by your brother-in-law is likely to sag, and so you'll need another beer to stay focused. Everyone needs a reason to keep going when they're in the middle.
And:
Don't expect a farm to fix your life, for once the romance dims, you must still muck out the barn and stack hay bales and give that sick goat an enema...Although there are tons of stories about starting something new, there just aren't that many about how to keep doing something, about how to slog through the middle when the going gets tough.
The quotes are all from Sheepish; I can't find our copy of Hit By A Farm:
My spinning wheel continues to torture and confound me. I realize I'm not interested enough in the craft to really commit to learning it. After a few more tries, I tuck the wheel into a corner of our living room and turn it into what Melissa likes to call a Dust Accumulation Research Project. Clearly our wool market will continue to be the wildly unlucrative wholesale warehouse.
The patron saint of spinners is, interestingly enough, Saint Catherine. She was a Christian martyr in Alexandria. In 307 AD, she was condemned to be torn apart by the spokes of the wheel.
Well. No wonder.
Spoiler: things get pretty rough, there’s illness and hard winters and financial issues, but they do not, in fact, give up the farm or each other.
The book says: We made it. You will too.
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hi. my name's liz but some of you know me as the asshole who left a mean joke on a post about disability a few days ago and hurt a lot of people really badly. first of all, ive deleted the post. second of all, ive never done something so stupid and problematic and fucked up before, so im not sure what the correct response is to this situation, but one of the anons in my inbox told me i should make an apology post on my blog, so im doing that. this post is not me making excuses or begging for forgiveness or whatever. i don't expect trust or friendship from any of the people i hurt. this post is to say im so fucking sorry.
the dumb eggman meme i left on that post was a terrible joke that i made in ignorance. i didn't realize that the post was actually two people having an important serious and meaningful conversation and, thinking it was a joke post, i responded with a joke post of my own. ive only just looked at my notifications for the first time in probably a couple weeks, which is why im so late in making this post. if i had known about this earlier i would have deleted the post and apologized immediately.
to the anon in my inbox who has been sending me messages every day telling me to delete the post: you are such a good friend and i admire you immensely. your strength and determination to protect your friend is amazing. im really sorry it took me so long to see your messages. i hope you never have to dig through my archive again
i have many messages in my inbox asking why it didn't occur to me to check out the original poster's blogs and make sure the post was a joke before i posted my addition, and frankly, i don't have a good answer for that. i don't know why i didn't think of that. im not making excuses when i saw that im autistic. i only mention it because maybe that fact about me will help you understand why i did something so incredibly shortsighted and stupid. im foolish and am often confused and make a lot of mistakes and have a lot of misunderstandings, but i think this is the worst misunderstanding ive ever had, because my response to it hurt so many people who didn't deserve it. autiestella, one of the people involved in that post, actually deleted their blog because of how fucking mean i was to them and that makes me so genuinely sad i want to cry. i never in a million years wanted to hurt them or anybody else. it makes me feel physically sick that i did that, that i drove someone away from their own home with my ignorance. i never wanted to do that to anyone, especially not to a child who has one of the same disabilities as me.
im gonna pin this post at the top of my blog because i think it's important and i want everyone to see it. i think im going to take a break from tumblr for a lil bit to think about what i did and work through it. i realize now that i need to be more careful and i need to figure out a list for being careful
@autiestella and @bravelittletayster , if you're reading this, i am so immensely terribly sorry. you both deserve so much better. i don't expect a response from either of you. if i were you i would never want to talk to me again. i just wanted you to know that i didn't mean to hurt you and i regret it. i hope that someday you feel safe on your own blogs again. i hope that someday you can forget that you ever read my username
thank you for reading. im sorry. goodbye
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It may have taken a little more than an hour but hey here’s the loceit fic based on this post that I reblogged just a little bit ago made by @more-incorect-quotes.
Thanks Jaz for encouraging this.
Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle
A Lie to Himself
Deceit wasn’t insecure. He was confident in himself and who he was and what he was supposed to do.
He was lying through his teeth, but hey ‘fake it till you make it’ was a valid game plan, wasn’t it? Deceit knew what he was doing, he was convinced of that at least, when it came to his function as a part of Thomas.
And if the realization that as a dark side he probably shouldn’t be interacting with his boyfriend, known light side and incredibly intelligent and sweet Logic “Logan” Sanders, hurt a little more than he thought it would, then he was just failing.
Dee wasn’t sure what he was failing at, but he knew he was failing and that just couldn’t stand could it?
So he was avoiding Logan. Or… trying to. He managed to last two days before he was caught in the memory archive (or the library, since that was the form it took in the mind palace).
“Deceit?”
Upon hearing Logan’s voice, Deceit jumped and turned, the book describing Thomas’ first venture into theater and acting held open in his hands.
“Oh. Logan,” he said, schooling his voice into one of indifference instead of the flustered embarrassment he actually felt.
“I’ve been looking for you, have you been avoiding me?” Logan asked, frowning at Deceit and making a knot of guilt grow in his stomach.
“No,” was his immediate response, but the way Logan’s frown deepened made him wince.
“Excuse me if I find that difficult to believe, dear,” he said, taking a few steps closer only to stop when Deceit took two steps back.
“I- Yes, of course you saw through it,” Deceit sighed, readjusting his hat on his head as he closed the book and stared at the floor.
Logan was quiet for a moment, seeming to consider something before he spoke up again.
“Have I done something wrong? If so, it would be best if you told me, Dee, I’d much prefer being informed of any mistakes I’ve made in our relationship.”
God, why was Logan so perfect?
“...I’m a dark side, we shouldn’t be interacting,” he admitted, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor because he didn’t really want to see the look of realization that he was right on Logan’s face.
There was silence for a moment and then there was a hand under Deceit’s chin, lifting his head so Logan could look him in the eyes.
“Excuse me if I offend, but I would very much like to show you a thirty slide power-point on why you’re wrong,” he started, small smile lifting his lips when a surprised giggle escaped Deceit’s throat, “spoiler, slides two through twenty-nine are all different ways to say I’m needy and I love you.”
Deceit struggled to smother down his laugh, face growing red as he grew more flustered by Logan’s words. It was rare he was so verbally affectionate, and it always caught Dee off guard when he expressed his love this way.
“What are the other two slides then?” he asked, unable to stop the smitten smile from taking over his expression.
“An introduction slide and a thanks for watching slide, I’m not some animal,” Logan joked, his smile growing as Deceit broke down into giggles.
“How dare you make me laugh? Didn’t you know I’m a villain? If it’s not an evil laugh I should not be doing it,” Deceit said, lifting his hand to wrap it around Logan’s tie, pulling the taller side down for a kiss.
Logan went down easily, shifting his hand to cup Deceit’s jaw as they pressed their lips together.
“I find your giggles endearing, Dee, and I do love you,” Logan said softly, thumb stroking over Deceit’s cheek and making him melt at the tender affection.
“I know,” he said, smiling at Logan’s raised eyebrow, “I love you too.”
#casper writes#ts janus#ts logan#loceit#insecurities#deceit is insecure#is this also for my 'deceit giggles' agenda?#yes it is#god theyre so cute and gay#i love them literally So Much
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CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer
Ch 6- Shots In The Dark Co-Written with @icanfeelastormbrewing
Episode Summary: Katie and Bucky head to the 99 to dig out some old case files that might help them on the case. Steve comes back to work, but he shouldn’t be there really, coz like he was banged up pretty bad. They go to a bar and there’s a fancy fireman called Johnny knocking around with the Nine-Nine crew. Steeby doesn’t like him…and it all kinda goes a bit wrong.
Episode Warnings: Bad Language words.
Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (Yeah, it’s nice and friendly now…)
Song for Episode: New Rules by Dua Lipa
A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask. Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!
Enter the NINE-NINE! We’ve used a lot of quotes from the series, that we know are not in their original settings but just indulge us because dammnit, it made us laugh!!
As always we live for re-blogs and comments
CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List
Main Masterlist
“And the wanderer returns!” Jake Peralta greeted Katie warmly as he stepped out of the elevator to greet her at the front desk of the 99 Precinct Building. “Good to see you Jake!” She beamed, giving him a hug before she stepped back “This is Sergeant James Barnes, or Bucky.” “Pleased to meet you.” Bucky said, grasping his hand. “So how’s DC treating you?” Jake asked as they stepped into the elevator. “Not bad.” Katie shrugged “The work is good but, well it’s not home ya know?” Bucky shot her a side glance, that was the first time he had heard her admit that she missed Brooklyn, and he had a feeling that her reconciliation with Steve had something to do with it. “Well you know what they say?” Peralta smiled “You can take the girl outta Brooklyn” “And then bring her back” Bucky quipped, earning him a dig in his ribs. The elevator door opened and they stepped out into the open plan office and Bucky winced at the cacophony of noise that hit his ears. Katie grinned and hugged a smaller, short haired man before she moved on to an Auburn haired woman, and then smiled and fist bumped a taller, darker haired lady. “Hey Diaz.”
“Stark.” The woman’s face flickered into a grin as she pulled Katie into a hug “good to see you”
“Wait a minute. Are we hugging?” Katie pulled back “Have we ever done this before?”
“No,” Diaz replied “And if you tell anyone, I’ll slit your throat.”
Katie laughed. “Does Terry get a hug?” Bucky looked up to see an absolute unit of a man strolling towards them. The man was dressed in a normal shirt, with a tie and suspenders but Bucky couldn’t help but stare because, well, he was fucking huge. He was even bigger than Steve and that was saying something. “Oh Terry gets a hug!” Katie laughed, stepping forward again. “Good, coz Terry missed Katie…” “Does he always refer to himself in the 3rd person? Bucky turned to the shorter man. “Oh yes.” He nodded “I’m Boyle by the way” “Bucky.” He said, shaking his hand.
“So…” Jake turned to them “All the boxes and case notes are ready in the archive rooms down stairs. I would have brought them to you but my cars in the shop so I rode in on Rosa’s motorcycle. I guess you could say I’m a gear head now.” he nodded, clearly pleased with himself. “He held on to me so tight it was like a two-mile Heimlich.” Diaz shot back, where she was lounging in her chair, phone sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder “No I won’t hold…”
“Those things have no walls on them!” Jake hissed as he walked to his desk “Let me just grab my breakfast and we’ll head down…” “Are those gummy bears wrapped in a fruit roll-up?” Bucky looked at him in horror as he picked up the film wrapped item.
“Breakfast burrito, but yeah” Peralta shrugged as they headed to the elevator.
“I pity your dentist.” Bucky shook his head.
“Joke’s on you. I don’t have a dentist.” Jake shot back as they all headed towards the elevator.
“Not so fast…” a deep voice said, and Bucky spun round to see the 99’s commanding officer, Captain Holt striding across the floor. “I believe Sergeant Stark has one more person she needs to say hi to.”
Katie narrowed her eyes playfully “Why? Is Cheddar here?”
“Who’s Cheddar?” Bucky asked.
“Holt’s corgi.” Peralta supplied
Holt’s face twitched, into what Bucky supposed you could call a smile, maybe, as the man stuck his arm out and formally shook Katie’s hand.
“Good to see you again. Congratulations on the promotion.” Holt said “I knew you’d get your break eventually.” “Thank you sir.” she smiled.
He nodded at her and then turned to look out over the office. “Ok 99, I just had an email. Our monthly crime statistics are due. I want paperwork on all your closed cases by tomorrow. Scully, you can just write ‘I didn’t close any’ on a piece of paper.”
Bucky looked around to see two, rather large (and by large he meant fat) men sat at desks, both eating some form of wrap. One of them, the one with the strange hair cut that made him look like he had a lego doll head looked up.
“What? I’m confused…” he said slowly.
“Huh.” Holt raised an eyebrow “From your expression, I would have guessed constipated. Or chilly.”
Bucky heard Katie snigger besides him as a nasaly voice from the Auburn haired woman cut across the office.
“Hey, Craptain, you ready to get curb stomped?” “What?” Jeffords’ eyes shot up.
“At chess.” Gina looked at him.
“We have a weekly match. I’m teaching Gina to play. And she, in turn, is teaching me to trash talk.” Holt said, waving his hand in explanation before he turned to Gina “The hospital called. Your test results came back positive. You’re a stage five dumbass.”
Katie looked at Peralta before the pair of them burst out laughing as Gina stood there, nodding, like a proud sensei.
“Oh! You have come so far.”
Bucky simply stood there, mouth hanging open. What the fuck had Stark dragged him into. He dug her in the ribs with his elbow and as she turned to look at him, he shook his head “This…this is…” “The Nine-Nine.” Katie said, fondly “And you spent 5 years here?” Bucky looked at her in disbelief.
“Actually it was just over 6.” Katie said “I moved to the 101 a year after dad died when the opportunity came up to train as a Profiler. I do miss them all though, and their little quirks…which reminds me…Hey” She turned to Jeffords who was now sat at his desk. “Still writing Fan Fiction Terry?” “Fan Fiction…” Bucky dead panned.
“Well, shows and films leave Terry wanting more.” Sergeant Jeffords shrugged “I’m just filling in the gaps.”
Just when he didn’t think shit could get any weirder… Bucky blinked.
“So what grabbed your imagination this time?” Katie continued
“He’s actually writing an original piece.” Boyle smiled.
Terry grinned “Yeah, about a group of super heroes, who save New York from aliens…”
“Let me guess…” Bucky grumbled and they turned to face him “They all dress in lycra and have capes?”
“Not all of them.” Terry looked at him. “Only one has a cape and only one dresses in Lycra, the others are in leather apart from one who is a kind of beast when he gets angry and the other has a flying, metal suit and…”
“Why can’t anyone make super heroes normal people who wear normal clothes?” Bucky shook his head.
“They don’t sit on their couches in their superhero outfits.” Terry looked at him, frowning “They’re normal on their downtime…”
“What is it with you and superhero costumes?” Katie looked at him.
Bucky shrugged “It’s just all, oh I dunno, ostentatious…” “Says the man who owns a rhinestone encrusted denim jacket, yeah, I heard…Steve told me about it ages ago.”
Bucky smirked and shrugged “It’s from the 90s, it was the fashion when we were a kid.” “Hmmm.” Katie pondered, before she looked back at Terry “You’ll have to email me a copy when it’s done.” “Will do, Terry always likes feedback.” “And Katie likes to read, speaking of which…” she patted Buck’s chest with the back of her hand “We need to get digging into those files, Buck.”
He agreed and Katie turned to Peralta. “Lead the way…not that I don’t know where it is but…”
She was cut off by a loud squeal and she spun to see a dark haired uniformed woman, hair pulled back into a ponytail. Bucky just caught the name “Santiago” on her tag before Katie wrapped her in a hug.
“Oh my God!” Santiago smiled, “I knew you were back in town but…”
“I know I should have called…and I’m sorry Amy but, we got a lot to get through so I need to get to it. But, Romanoff suggested a night out. You too Diaz?”
“Drinks sound good” Diaz nodded.
“The Compound? This weekend?” Katie asked “Sure I can wrangle us the VIP treatment seeing as the owner is practically my sister in law.” ““I am sooo up for that!” Santiago grinned “There’s nothing better after a long shift than going to The Compound It’s like Cheers, where everybody knows your name”
Diaz looked at her “A place where everybody knows your name is hell. You’re describing hell.”
******
The doors of the elevator opened and Katie emerged from it followed by Bucky who was carrying a box with the files they had brought from the 99. Thankfully, out of the three boxes Peralta had provided on Rumlow’s case, they had been able to reduce the files with meaningful information to only one.
“Is Stevie’s office open, Wanda? Need to pop these files somewhere safe.” Katie said once they were close enough to the reception desk counter.
Bucky saw Wanda’s eyebrows squeeze together in a wrinkle and her mouth twist with annoyance at Katie’s use of Steve’s pet name. He could tell she was pissed. And to be honest, he was also surprised at the new situation. How Stark had gone from hating the Captain’s guts and going haywire at him calling her sweetheart, to easily referring to him as Stevie, and in public none the less, was something that he couldn’t quite grasp. But then again the dynamic between those two was unique, which was the polite way of putting it.
“Yeah, it’s open. He’s in there.” she answered trying to conceal her animosity.
“What?” Katie shrieked and Wanda shrugged. She turned to Bucky “Can you believe that?”
Bucky just shook his head and muttered “Punk” as both headed for the Captain’s office. They were about to barge in when the door suddenly opened. Steve, who was carrying a cardboard cup holder with two coffee cups, had to raise his right hand above his head to avoid scalding both detectives with the hot liquid.
“Whoooa, easy there!” his voice faltered at the end as his ribs complained at the sudden movement.
“What the fuck, Steve!” Katie shouted “You should be resting at home, you’re still healing.”
“She’s right, punk.” Bucky added as he made his way past Steve to leave the box on the desk. “What? You don’t think we can handle this without you?”
“That’s … that’s not…” he said turning and glaring at Bucky but stopped when he saw an amused expression on Bucky’s face “Enjoying yourself?” he asked and Bucky nodded and laughed.
Steve sighed and turned to Katie who was still at the door arm crossed and he smiled softly, his bruised face lighting up as he spoke.
“I’m ok, sweetheart. Just have to remember not to move like I’m a cheerleader.”
“Now, that’s an image I don’t want imprinted in my brain.” Bucky mused leaning on Steve desk as he prepared for the storm to unravel.
“What’s in the box?” Steve asked.
“Files from the 99.” Bucky said as he watched Katie who was still observing Steve with narrowed eyes.
“Well don’t leave them there, take them into the incident room.” Steve said, “It’s safe enough, we can lock it and-“
At that point Bucky saw Katie’s eyes flicker like a light bulb, the way they did when her brain was trying to spot the missing link and she interrupted him.
“Wait! How did you get here? You can’t have possibly driven yourself.” she said tilting her head, staring at him like he was the suspect of a petty theft. “Oh, you didn’t ride the bike, did you? Steven, tell me you didn’t ride that old, dusty piece of junk!” she carried on ranting.
“What bike?” Bucky inquired now curious while taking a packet of gummy bears Peralta had given him out of his jacket pocket.
“An old bike my father had. Tony doesn’t like bikes so he passed it on to Steve.” Katie explained “It’s a rattletrap…”
“It’s not a rattletrap.” Steve protested “And it’s unique, the handlebars are made from Vibranium. You should show more respect for Howard’s legacy.” he said pointing at her like she was a little brat.
“Whatever.” she said rolling her eyes. “Are you going to tell me how you got here?”
“Sam drove me. He called to tell me he had news on Ross report, he said he was in the area so I made him pick me up.”
Bucky saw Katie’s stance relax a bit with Steve’s explanation but suddenly her eyes darted to him, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit scared.
“Who did you say you had breakfast with before we went to the 99?” she asked Bucky with a sly glance.
“I didn’t say.” Bucky said, putting a bunch of gummy bears in his mouth before he diverted the conversation to Steve again.
“You shouldn’t be here, Steve. You’re convalescing”
Steve sighed, lowered his head for some seconds, a demeanour Bucky could read like the back of his hand. Steve felt tired and lost, he needed to go back to his natural element.
"Look” he said raising his head again, the hand that wasn’t holding the drinks dropped to his hip and he looked at Bucky “I’m tired of being at home doing nothing but watching TV and thinking. I can’t even go for my morning run or go to the gym to blow some steam against a punching bag. I know I should be more relaxed now than ever, but I’m not. Doing nothing is driving me crazy. Surely being in the station can’t be that physically demanding?”
Bucky felt a pang of guilt at his friend’s word. Steve was right. Bucky knew that Steve, for as long as he could remember, had always wanted to do what was right. Even if sometimes that meant a bunch of dumbass decisions. The Captain wasn’t one for sitting back and doing nothing. He even had bags under his eyes and Katie must have noticed too since she asked him
“Trouble sleeping?”
Steve turned to look at her with a huge smile on his face and a sparkle of something in his eyes, Bucky could tell from the way he was standing.
“You could say that.” he replied.
Katie returned the smile and they both simply stood looking at one another for what seemed like way more time than should be acceptable. Bucky suddenly felt like he was a fly on the wall, so trying not to step on the moment, he grabbed the box of files and made to leave the office.
“I will be in my desk if you…” he said when he walked past Katie but she wasn’t noticing him, she was still locked in eye contact with Steve.
“Whatever.” he mumbled and headed for his desk “I feel like I’m invisible. I’m turning into Steve when he was a skinny punk.”
“Now, you’re talking to yourself Barnes.” Natasha said walking from the kitchen followed by Sam, Clint and Wanda.
“Who are you, Regina George and her clique?” Bucky bit back while he dropped the box onto his desk and took off his jacket.
Steve chose that point to walk out into the office
“Sam, Barnes and Stark are back.” the Captain spoke striding towards Bucky’s desk, signalling the man over from where he was perched on the edge of Natasha’s desk. Katie headed to her own, and dropped her purse down, slinging her jacket over her chair. “Can you fill us on the new details about Ross’ PM report?”
“Can I go fetch a coffee first?” Katie pleaded as Sam stood up. “It’ll be real quick, promise.”
“Oh, shit, here” Steve said quietly handing her one of the take out coffee cups he had brought from his office and completely forgotten about “I got you your regular on the way. Your round tomorrow.”
In all honesty Steve had been a little nervous buying that coffee. It had been something they had always done, buying each other a drink on the way in, alternating on days. But since she had returned and they hadn’t been on good terms it had clearly fallen by the wayside. Since the air had cleared yesterday he’d decided to chance it and see how it was received but he needn’t have worried. Katie positively beamed at him before she blurted out “God, I love you.”
Steve felt his neck growing warm as all eyes turned to them and he saw Katie’s own cheeks flush and she sipped from the cup trying to hide her embarrassment “Suri’s Vanilla Lattes are the best.” she said in an over the top, dramatic voice “Oh, how I have missed them!”
"You’re welcome, I think.” Steve said, now full on blushing as he rubbing the back of his neck.
Bucky tried to divert the attention from the pair of dorks before Wanda choked on her own bile and Natasha or Clint made a snarky comment.
“I’m waiting. What, you didn’t bring one for me?” he asked and from the corner of his eye he saw Natasha shaking her head at him disapprovingly. He glanced at Steve who was now flushing even more and that was when he realized he had made it worse by drawing even more attention to the fact that Steve had, in effect, displayed favouritism, whether he meant to or not.
“You want in Barnes you can buy the next round then.” Katie quipped and he glanced at her as she perched on the edge of her desk.
“Fair enough…” he shrugged, and then his attention was taken by Sam who was looking at something on his desk with curiosity.
“You like cats?” Sam asked taking Dot and examining her.
“It’s not a cat. It’s a goat and it’s called Dot.” Bucky said with annoyance. How the fuck could anyone mistake a goat for a cat?
Steve groaned and urged Sam to start with the report details so they could move on with the investigation.
“What? Dude has a cat on his desk and you don’t want to know why?” Sam asked Steve. "Looks like a cat.“ he shrugged now looking at Bucky.
"I think it looks like a llama.” Katie quipped and Clint’s laugh could be heard all through the floor.
Steve groaned again rubbing his forehead but before he could make one of his famous pep talks, Sam interrupted him.
“All right, before Steve McQueen here’s head blows up…the hair we got on Ross’ trousers?” he offered, opening the folder he was carrying and examining the report.
“Yeah?” Steve asked.
“Funny enough, its goat.” the doctor explained.
Everyone went silent, looking at each other, before Katie let out a laugh and turned to Bucky.
“Maybe we should ask Dot if she knew Ross.”
“Fuck off Stark.” Bucky rolled his eyes, grinning.
“Oooh, maybe she did it…” Katie continued “I mean, do you know her whereabouts that night?”
“You’re hilarious.” Bucky deadpanned, shaking his head.
“Ok. Anything else?” Steve asked Sam, cutting across the pair of them.
“Nope. That’s all I’ve got so far. Got you a copy of the updated report.” he said handing the folder to Steve.
“Thanks, Sam” he said and the Doctor just nodded and patted Dot’s head with his index finger before heading away.
“Romanoff, Barton, start working on a link between Ross and …” Steve paused for a moment trying to sound as professional as possible “…a goat.“
Katie choked slightly and then coughed as Bucky looked at her, before they both started to snigger slightly. Steve rolled his eyes at the pair of them. They were like school kids.
"Right away, Cap.” Natasha nodded.
“It would be my genuine pleasure, Cap.” Clint added, nodding to his computer “Searching for goat farms as we speak. God I’d like to have a farm someday.”
“Buck, you and Katie start with those files. I’ve got a tele-conference with Fury to give him an update so I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
Bucky gave him a salute as he turned and started making his way towards his office.
“Stevie, I got your…” Wanda called out for him before he went away but she was cut off by Steve’s fiery look.
“It’s Steve, Wanda.” he said sternly.
“Yes. Sorry Steve” she said gulping “I just wanted to give you your mail.”
“Thanks.” Steve said, slightly less curtly but still with a slight edge to his voice as he took the items from her.
Bucky saw her walk as fast as she could towards the restroom and he shared a quick significant glance with Steve who just shook his head and turned towards his office. He then looked at Katie who simply stood and picked up the box from his desk as she headed towards the Incident Room. Finally he looked in Natasha’s direction who nodded at him as if confirming they were on the same page-Rogers and Stark were back on full speaking and, so it seemed, full flirting terms.
***** “So as Jake and I explained before the victim was a woman called Sara Klein.” Katie spoke as Bucky spread the papers across the large table. “She was walking home from a bar when she was dragged into an alley and raped.”
“And you think the perp was…this Rumlow guy?” Bucky asked, looking down at a mug shot of a man with dark hair and dark eyes. “Who was a Uniform in the 99?”
“Yeah.” Katie said
“So what made you suspect him?”
“When we took Klein to the Rape Centre for her forensic examination he was there, don’t ask me what for. When she came back from the examination room she heard him talking and literally stated shaking and became hysterical.” Katie paused for a moment “We got her back to the station, calmed her down and that was when she said she recognised his voice…”
At that point Steve walked into the room and they both looked at him, and he gestured for them to continue.
“Peralta and I went to speak to Captain Holt, you know, given the sensitivity of it. He told us to bring Rumlow in for questioning and that he would speak to Fury. Obviously he denied it, said she must have been mistaken bla bla bla but Peralta and I didn’t believe a word of it, I know he did it.”
She trailed off and Bucky looked at Steve who gently laid a hand on her shoulder “He knows.” he looked at her as her head snapped up and her eyes locked onto his “I told him what Rumlow did to you, I’m sorry but I was trying to explain the Sitwell situation and…” For a moment Steve feared she was going to blow up at him but she didn’t. Instead she sighed and shrugged “It’s not exactly a secret anyway…” she wiped at her eyes and Steve gently rubbed her back before she jumped off the desk and walked to the wall, looking at the various bits of notes and evidence.
“Long and short of it, Bucky, is that we had no forensics of any sort to link Rumlow to the rape, no DNA left behind, nothing that wasn’t circumstantial…and then up pops Sitwell to provide an alibi that we didn’t believe for a second. But before we had chance to discredit it, Sara turned up and said she wanted to withdraw her allegation. Said that she’d confided in someone, we never did find out who, and they’d given her all these statistics on how many rape cases actually ended in a conviction and that was it, she didn’t want to put herself through it. Nothing we said or did could convince her otherwise.”
“So Rumlow basically carried on like nothing had happened…” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair. “Well his reputation was in tatters, mud sticks…” Katie said, turning to look at him “He pretty much became a social pariah around the force. And then when he assaulted me he was kicked out, well, told to resign…”
Bucky stayed silent as Steve gently reached over to look at the paper work on the desk.
“So has anything turned up in any of this that can link Ross to Sitwell?” he asked, glancing up at them both.
“Not so far.” Bucky shook his head “But we haven’t even scratched the surface.”
“Well until we have anything concrete to go on it’s as good a train of thought as any.” Steve said. “Maybe it’s worth digging into Sitwell’s background a little more. Schools, Universities, dodgy handshake clubs, that kind of stuff, see if we can link him to Ross that way.”
“Say we do make a link…” Bucky said, leaning back in his chair, eyeing Katie “Gut feeling Stark, is this connected to the Rumlow case?”
“I dunno.” she shrugged “But one thing’s for sure, something stinks about all of this. And I don’t believe in co-incidences.”
“Me neither doll face.” Bucky mumbled, dodging the whiteboard pen she sent flying his way.
******
Three hours and a couple of sandwiches later Bucky and Katie had decided to call it a day. They had gone through Rumlow’s case again and needed a home cooked dinner and a good night’s sleep before they started digging on Sitwell’s school records the following day.
“Ok. My brain is fried. I’m heading home and praying for Tony not being there yet. Wish me luck.”
Bucky smiled at Katie over the screen of his computer. He saw her stand up from her chair and cross her fingers in the air before walking to the restroom. He was saving the documents on his computer and turning it off when he heard Steve.
“Anything significant?”
“Nope.” Bucky said leaning back on his chair and stretching his arms above his head. “Enough for today. And you too, Steve. Finish that coffee you’re drinking and I’ll drive us home.”
Steve nodded and turned around when he heard Katie’s voice from behind him.
“You shouldn’t even be here. Go home and rest, Stevie.” she said casually.
Bucky raised an eyebrow at Steve who rolled his eyes, but he turned to Katie when she let out a little squeal and saw her waving her phone in the air.
“Nat, Wanda come here! Got a message from Diaz!” she said excitedly “GIRL’S NIGHT OUT FRIDAY. How does that sound? She says Amy and Gina are coming too.”
“I’m in” Natasha said grinning at Bucky and turning to Wanda, who had also gathered around Katie’s desk, for confirmation.
“I don’t think I can… I’m sorry.” Wanda hesitated before adding “My cat is sick.”
“Your cat?” Nat asked her with sly eyes.
“Whatever…” Katie rolled her eyes and leant over her desk to switch off her computer “I’m only asking because I’m not petty enough to leave one person out” she muttered only for Bucky to hear.
“Leave it.” Bucky whispered back as he saw Wanda frown and open her mouth to retort to Katie’s initial eye roll and he gave Steve a warning look.
“Wanda.” Steve stepped in “Come to my office. There are some reports I want you to file before you go.” and he started walking away as she followed obediently.
“Ok. I’ll text Diaz saying we’re in Nat. Dinner and The Compound?” Katie asked while grabbing her jacket and purse.
“Perfect. And I’ll convince the little witch.” Nat nodded.
Katie just pursed her lips and nodded before waving everyone goodbye and walking away.
“Ok. All hands on deck. Clint come here!” Nat said her eyes shining with the excitement of plotting. “Barnes. Engage phase 2. We’re going out and we’ll be at the Compound after dinner, I’ll confirm our ETA as we go. You two bring Rogers and I’ll make sure Stark is a little bit intoxicated by then.” she said winking at Bucky.
“I’ll call Peralta, if Santiago is gonna be there, he’ll be up for it. See who else he can drag in.” Clint offered.
“Ok Buck, I’m ready. We can go now” Steve said and looked at them sensing he had stepped into something “Am I interrupting something here?”
“Nah. Nat was telling us the girls’ plans for Friday.” Bucky brushed him off.
“Oh, so you’re finally going out?” Steve smirked at Nat who rolled her eyes at his dig that it had taken her so long to organise something with Katie “But, you do know you and Stark are on call this weekend as Barton and Barnes have done the last two?”
“That we did.” Clint quipped
“It’s ok boss. We’ll behave.” Nat drawled as she spotted Wanda had returned to the reception desk. “Gotta go do something. See ya fellas.”
Steve sighed and shook his head at Bucky “Lets go, Buck. Bye Barton.”
******
“You’re a pain in the ass. No, you’re worse than a pain in the ass, you know that?” Bucky said while closing the car door after getting into the left back seat of Sam’s grey Mercedes Class C.
“What’s the deal?” Sam asked looking at Steve who was now fastening the seat belt of the passenger seat. Perks of being the Captain and still on recovery.
“He’s been grumpy all day. He didn’t want to come.” Bucky explained.
“I told you, I’m on duty this weekend.” Steve said turning his head to look at Bucky as Sam pulled away from the curb in front of Steve’s block.
And he was being truthful, he was the senior officer on call. It had been Holt’s turn last week, but as Bucky pointed out the chances of getting called in were low. Katie was the on duty Sergeant supported by Natasha and God forbid either of them would admit they couldn’t handle any possible situation and had to call their superior in.
“You have more chances of getting laid tonight than being called in tomorrow.” Clint deadpanned from the right back seat.
Steve groaned which made Sam chuckle and give a significant look to the men at the back through the rear-view mirror.
“Where are we going?” Steve asked trying to change the subject.
“We’re picking up Thor” Sam explained.
“And then?” Bucky asked “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, what’s new? You’re always hungry.” Steve snorted.
“Tell me about it.” Clint scoffed. “I spent all day with him yesterday visiting goat farms upstate. Dude ate a donut dorito hot dog pizza all rolled up like a burrito! Can you believe it?” Clint asked leaning forward to speak to Steve and Sam.
“Hey, I was just optimizing my time.” Bucky shrugged and the three men shook their heads.
“We could stop at Grimaldi’s to have pizza and beers, feed the bastard. Then we’ll drop into the Compound.” Sam suggested.
Both Bucky and Sam nodded in agreement with the plan. Steve groaned again. He was worried about the case being in a deadlock. After two days of digging, they had nothing solid on Sitwell’s connection to Ross yet. Last thing he needed, if he was being honest, was taking care of a bunch of drunk friends and, what was more, he wasn’t gonna drive any of them home, it was Sam’s car after all, he had called designated driver. But then it dawned on him, they were going to the Compound and the girls would be there, wouldn’t they? Suddenly his spirits were lifted and a soft smile crossed his face. But he was snapped from his thoughts again by Bucky.
“Look, I know you’re pissed. You’re still sore from the accident, I get it.” Bucky started to scold him but was interrupted by Sam.
“We’re here. Can someone text him?” Sam announced pulling in a spot in front of Thor’s building.
“Got it.” Clint offered pulling out his phone.
He unclasped the car belt and moved closer to Bucky so as to leave space for Thor in the backseat while fiddling with his phone. Bucky stirred in his seat feeling suddenly trapped.
“Can you move your seat up?” he asked Sam
“No” Sam said without even flinching a muscle on his face.
“Asshole.” Bucky muttered.
He looked at Steve who seemed to be lost in his thoughts and then he turned to look at Clint who kept on texting on his phone.
“Ok. Peralta says he’s meeting us at the Compound. He’s having dinner with some video games buddies now but he’ll meet us later.” Clint informed the rest.
“Will Tony be there?” Steve asked suddenly.
“Of course he will” Clint snorted. “He clocks in day in and day out.”
“Yeah, Pepper has him wrapped around her finger.” Sam added nodding.
“Women.” Bucky sighed looking at his Captain who was looking at the front stoic as ever.
“Greetings, morons!”
Thor’s voice reverberated in the cabin of the car as he sat in the only free seat and closed the door grinning. Everyone greeted him back and Sam started the car again.
“Why are you carrying an umbrella?” Clint asked Thor “It isn’t even cloudy.”
“Oh! It’s my lucky charm.” he said happily. “My lucky umbrella, my father gave it to me when I was a kid.”
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Steve mused from the front seat.
“And a mistake. I mean are you gonna be attached to your lucky charm all night?” Sam asked, hands on the steering wheel.
“I make grave mistakes all the time, everything seems to work out in the end.” Thor shrugged and tapped Steve on the shoulder. “Captain, what are you doing here? I thought you were still recovering from your car crash. You should be sitting at home in your bathrobe, eating grapes.“
"Yeah, or plums.” Bucky added. “Don’t encourage him. He is enough grumpy as it is.”
“Yeah, not helping blondie.” Clint quipped.
“You’re so petty and tiny.” Thor scoffed.
They continued picking on one another for the rest of the journey and the time they spent at the pizza restaurant. Two hours later the five of them were at the main entrance to the Compound, one of the most popular clubs in Brooklyn in the last few years. The club was run by Pepper, Tony’s fiancé, so they were greeted warmly by Happy, the doorman, who let them in immediately after a short informal chat.
“Welcome, Gentlemen” Pepper greeted the group who had now approached the bar where she was chatting idly with Tony. “What a sight for sore eyes, Steve!” she added now kissing Steve on the cheek.
“Yeah, what brings you here Capsicle? Last time I checked you were in a hospital bed looking like shit.” Tony asked Steve.
“Yeah, Katie told us about it.” Pepper interjected signalling between her and Tony. “How are you now? Are you ok? Is there anything I can bring you?”
“I’m fine Pepper, honestly thank you, just a few cuts and bruises. And a glass of water would be great, thanks.”
“Water coming right up.” said Pepper gesturing for the barman to come and take their orders.
“Water, Rogers?” Tony mocked him. “Beers for all for starters. That’s on me and I’m buying a bottle of the best champagne we have so meet me in our private booth when you’re done.”
The group cheered happily at Tony’s offer and sat on the bar stools waiting for their drinks.
A pretty blonde waitress placed a glass of water and a beer bottle on the bar in front of Steve and winked at him, who obliviously took a painkiller from the blister and swallowed it with a bit of water. He didn’t want to take it but the constant bickering of his friends and the loud music and dim lights of the club were making his head pound.
He was sipping from his beer bottle when someone slapped his back causing him to wince at the pain.
“Hey, Rogers. Nice to see you man!” Peralta greeted.
“Hey, Jake. How you doin’?” Steve greeted back with a sincere smile while Peralta nodded and fist bumped Clint.
“Did you come alone?” Clint asked him.
“Yeah, but meeting a friend at some point tonight. He’s working until later.” Peralta answered as he shook hands with Bucky and Sam. “Barnes, good to see you again. Wilson?”
“Hey man.” Sam nodded, and Peralta looked beyond him towards Thor who was scanning the dance floor while moving his head and feet to the beat of the music.
“Oh, you brought Point Break.” Peralta quipped, turning to Clint.
“Yeah, you can’t get rid of him easily, especially if we’re talking about revels.” Clint commented.
“Revels?” Peralta asked frowning.
“A Party, that’s what he calls it.” Sam offered.
“Wow, and I thought Holt had a weird vocabulary.” Peralta muttered.
A little while later Thor had disappeared onto the dance floor and the rest were already on their second beer while chatting animatedly. Steve was beginning to regret having mixed alcohol and meds. Feeling a bit lightheaded, he was seriously considering calling a cab and going home when he heard Peralta whistle through his teeth and Bucky let out a breathy curse.
“Damned.”
“What?” he asked turning around to ask what was going on. They were both looking at the back of the Compound, towards the booths and that was when he noticed what had taken their attention. Katie was stood side on to them, talking to Tony. She was dressed in a dark blue short jumpsuit that sported a large white flowered pattern and a plunge neck line that dipped almost to her navel. Her shoes were high heeled black sandals with a silvery cuff round the ankle and as she turned to say something to Natasha, Steve saw that the back of the jumpsuit was bare bar where the fabric crossed across to each shoulder from the opposite hip.
God she looked gorgeous, scratch that, she looked more than gorgeous.
“Fuck!” Steve cursed when he noticed his beer had been dribbling down his front. He took a pair of cocktail napkins and tried to dry his shirt while Bucky, Peralta and Sam cackled at him. He groaned and continued wiping as Bucky put one arm over his shoulder.
“Keep it cool, man. It’s not like you don’t know what’s under those clothes.” he said in a low voice, winking at Steve.
“Shut up, Bucky.” Steve snapped but had to do as told as the girls were approaching the bar.
“Hey fellas.” Natasha drawled, “You coming over to join us?”
“Once Rogers has dried off, yeah.” Clint said.
Diaz looked at him, frowning. “Dried off.” “Yeah someone nudged me and I spilt…” he said, gesturing to the front of his shirt.
Katie shrugged “Can’t see anything, your shirt’s black.”
“It’s nice.” Wanda nodded, looking at Steve. He took a deep breath, thinking back to what Bucky had said and merely smiled at the woman politely. Behind Wanda he saw Diaz and Natasha exchange a smirk. Katie, however, was focussed on something else.
“Is that the one I bought you for your birthday last year?” Katie asked, reaching out to gently run her hand over the collar, and Steve nodded and didn’t miss the scowl on Wanda’s face. Totally oblivious to the daggers she was being given, Katie grinned “Wanda’s right, it looks good.”
He smiled at her and then turned politely to Wanda who had said something to him, and Bucky watched as Katie’s eyes lingered on them both for a little longer her eyebrow raised, almost in amusement at the other woman’s attempts to flirt with Steve fell flat.
“You want Stevie to go into cardiac arrest or something?” Buck leaned over to talk into her ear and she turned to look at him “The man is drugged and on alcohol and then you come along looking like that.”
“Fuck off Bucky.” Katie bit back “I wore this because it makes me feel good, you asshole, not for anyone else. And it’s not like I knew you were coming. Why are you guys even here anyway?”
“Boys’ night out” Bucky shrugged.
Katie raised an eyebrow at him “Yeah, of all the places you could pick to go you just…”
At that she stopped and her head cocked to one sided as she caught the first beats of a song playing.
“Oh, God!” she squealed. Bucky was just about to ask her what was going on but he was too late, she leaned towards Steve and gently grabbed his hand, turning his attention away from Wanda as she curled her hand round his.
“Stevie, listen.”
A big mischievous grin crossed Steve’s face when he heard the song and next thing he knew he was being dragged by Katie to the dance floor. Leaving Wanda slack jawed with frustration.
“What the fuck? Is he dancing?” Bucky asked Clint and Nat who were stood at the bar next to him, unable to keep his eyes from Katie and Steve dancing and laughing like crazy to I’ll be there for you by The Rembrandts.
“Yeah, they always dance to this, it’s like their song.” Clint answered before sipping from his beer bottle.
“Give him a minute, he will do his Joey.” Natasha told Bucky while keeping an eye on Wanda who had just sidled back into the booth and was now pouting and stabbing the bar with her cocktail umbrella. At that Steve launched into some kind of odd dance move, which he still manage to make look quite graceful “Oh, yep. There we go.”
“Unbelievable” Bucky mused shaking his head, happy to see his bestie cut loose. “She really brings out that kid from Brooklyn, doesn’t she?”
“You could say that.” Nat said with a side smile while Clint nodded in agreement. They all watched as one of Steve’s arms curled round Katie’s waist, his large hand splaying on her back as they continued to dance around to the upbeat music, Katie’s head tipped back in laughter and a huge grin spread across Steve’s face.
At that point Bucky heard Wanda snort and strut down the club to the restrooms bumping into people on her way.
“Ah leave her.” Natasha said with a sigh, draining her glass.
“So Rogers has two women fighting over him…” Peralta leaned back “Lucky bastard.” “He’s eyes for no one but Stark.” Bucky said, shrugging “So wouldn’t really call it a fight.” “Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t really want to get in a fight with Stark anyway…” Peralta nodded. “Damned she can be vicious.”
***** A few hours later they were all sat together in Tony’s private booth drinking champagne, except for Katie who had finished her drink and had gone dancing with Rosa and Gina, and Steve who had gone to the restroom.
"This bottle is empty.” Thor said shaking the bottle in the air.
“I’ll go fetch another one.” Tony said standing up ceremoniously.
“I don’t want that bubbly shit. Anyone in for some tequila shots?” Thor asked as he also stood up and went to the bar without waiting for an answer.
“Oh…my…God!” Natasha suddenly slurred nudging Clint who was beside her.
"This is better than we expected” Clint whispered, grinning.
“What? What’s happening” Bucky asked.
He looked at Natasha who didn’t answer but he followed her gaze only to spot a tall handsome brunette chatting with Peralta and Santiago.
“What is he doing here?” Nat hissed to Clint
“Don’t know. Must be the buddy Peralta said he was meeting.“ Clint answered Nat.
"Who is he?” Bucky frowned.
“Storm” Wanda, who was nibbling a piece of lime, explained to Bucky “He’s a fireman and has the hots for Stark” she practically purred.
“Well, this is awkward.” Sam deadpanned.
“You know what? I’m gonna help Thor with the shots.” Wanda said to the group.
“Ok. I’m lost” Bucky said once Wanda was out of earshot.
“Phase 2, Barnes” Natasha’s eyes glinted “The plan was getting them drunk and leave them alone, wasn’t it? But, this is brilliant!” she clapped excitedly. “Steve’s gonna see him here, get all jealous and protective…”
“Ok, but someone needs to keep flash fire dude away from Stark until Captain Slow can make his move…” Sam warned looking as Steve was coming back from the restroom and was approaching the bar.
"Uh oh, too late” Bucky said moving his head towards Wanda who was talking to Johnny Storm and pointing at Katie’s direction before she gestured to their booth.
“Fuck.” Clint hissed.
“Should have seen that coming.” Natasha groaned.
“Can’t blame her, Witchy is only playing the cards she has left.” Clint chuckled.
“All right, Steve coming at your 9. Everybody play it cool. Let’s see how this unfolds.” Sam muttered.
It was only seconds after Steve had sat in the booth with another beer in his hands that Thor came carrying a tray with shots and a bottle of tequila, followed by Wanda and Johnny.
“Here, let me help you.” Wanda offered Thor.
“I told you I can handle this” he said placing the tray on the table “Fortunately, I am mighty.” he said casually tossing the bottle in the air and catching it expertly.
Bucky saw as Natasha gave a filthy look to Wanda who was now sitting between her and Steve.
“What? Wanda whispered.
"You know what.” Natasha muttered at her.
Steve’s eyes flickered up to the dark haired man and he did a double take. That was the Flash Fireman, the friend of Peralta’s that Katie had been talking to at the Christmas Party. He took a deep breath and felt his shoulders stiffen slightly as he looked around, spotting that Katie, Diaz and Gina were making their way over. He took a deep breath and his nostrils flared as Johnny blatantly looked Katie up and down as she made her way over.
“S’Up Fire Boy?” Diaz asked him “No kittens to rescue from a tree?”
“Off duty…” Johnny grinned “And stop pretending you’re not happy to see me Diaz.” “Yeah, that’s her happy face, just for clarity.” Gina nodded, folding her arms “Her angry face…well, no one who’s seen it has lived to tell the tale.”
There were a few chuckles from the table until Thor roared out that it was time for shots. Katie slid into the booth on the spare seat next to Johnny as Bucky and Steve both stood up to grab extra stools for Diaz and Gina. Once they were all seated Thor passed the shots around and Steve hastily slammed his down as he watched Katie leaning slightly into Johnny, the pair of them chatting. As Steve watched he held out his arm of his jacket and Katie smiled, reaching out to gently stroke it.
“You like it?” he asked looking at her “It’s a new material made by my sister, she’s an engineer.” he said sliding an arm around Katie’s shoulder “It keeps the hot stuff hot and the cool stuff cool.”
“Yeah, can’t have your brain overheating, can we?” Steve jabbed at him, rolling his eyes.
Bucky chuckled at Steve’s comment and Katie tried to hide her smile sipping from her glass.
“I’m not wearing a hat.” Johnny frowned earning a withering look from Steve and Katie choked on her Martini. At that point there was no hiding the grin spreading across her face and Bucky saw her glance at Steve, probably to share another one of those knowing, inside smiles, but her expression slipped. He looked over to see Wanda laugh at Steve’s joke and hold onto his left arm. And the Captain made no move to shrug her off. Instead, he turned into her, his arm moving only to drape round the back of the bench they were on.
Uh Oh.
“Are you ok, princess?” Bucky’s attention flicked back to Johnny who was looking at Katie. “Wanna dance?” he asked with his playful signature smile.
“Yeah, why not?” She said, shooting another glare at Steve. She stood up and flash fired dude slipped his arm round her, hand gripping at her hip as he steered her into the middle of the dancefloor
“I’m dancing too.” Natasha said standing up “And you’re all coming with me. This is a girl’s night after all…”she added dragging Wanda up out of the seat before she turned around and mouthed do something at Bucky.
Bucky looked at Clint and Sam for support, he wasn’t sure what it was that Natasha expected him to do. The situation was disastrous enough as it was.
The pretty blond waitress from the bar came to collect the tray and empty bottles scattered over the table and gave Steve an intense look.
"Want another drink or anything else, handsome? A dance maybe?”
“No thanks” Steve groaned. He stood up and simply said “Excuse me” before walking towards the bar.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked Bucky and Sam who were looking at her sympathetically.
“Don’t take it personally. He’s in love.” Bucky shrugged.
“Oh, so is he taken?” she asked apologetically.
“Not exactly…” Sam tried to explain.
“What? Is she blind or something?” the waitress said wiping the table with a rag.
“Something like that.” Clint scoffed.
Bucky sat back and tried to come up with a way to redirect the situation. Jealous and drunk Steve was not a good combination but now it was pointless trying to fix the disaster as he saw Steve perched on a stool by the bar, another beer in hand, looking at the dance floor like a wolf.
And then, it was almost like it was happening in slow motion. Wanda, who had slunk off the dancefloor made her way over to Steve where she draped herself, shamelessly over him. And before Bucky could even move to warn Steve, as he could see what was happening a mile off, she’d slipped her arms round his neck and pulled him down to kiss her.
Bucky let out a groan and he turned to the dancefloor to see Natasha stood there, hand over her mouth and she turned to look at him. He waved his hand over his throat furiously, in an attempt to get Natasha to sort it out but it was too late. Bucky’s eyes flickered to Katie whose attention was fully on Steve and her face fell.
“You left Wanda unleashed!” Bucky practically yelled, exaggerating his words so Natasha could see what he was saying, as he pointed in the direction of Steve and Wanda at the bar.
“Abort phase two. This is a disaster.” Clint groaned. Meanwhile, Thor laughed loudly and clapped.
“Matchmakers of the year, ladies and gentlemen!” he said.
“Where you even here?” Clint asked visibly annoyed.
In all fairness to Steve, he hadn’t been expecting Wanda to make a move like that. It took a while for his drunken brain to catch up with what was going on, but when he finally did he gently caught Wanda on the hips and pushed her away.
“Wanda…” he shook his head “I’m sorry, you’re a great girl and everything but…”
He stood up and looked around, and then he felt his heart sink. Katie and the Fancy Fireman were heading for the exit, hand in hand. Bucky was also watching the two of them leave, and his attention turned to Steve and the utter look of devastation the Captain wore.
Fuck.
@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan @charmed-asylum
#csi rogers and barnes#csi au#steve rogers x original female character#steve rogers x oc#steve rogers#bucky barnes#clint barton#natasha romanoff#wanda maximoff#sam wilson#tony stark#thor odinson#brooklyn 99
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sfw "just close your eyes and kiss me" for the prompt if u like!! (dont worry abt it if ur overflowed with asks!)
i took so long to respond to this ask that your blog moved to archive, @yosukeh. i deserve to be blocked.
but in case you are interested in the resulting fic, here it is below! adorable boys kissing adorably. thank you.
and here is the chapter on AO3, in case you want to be kinder to yourself.
(Easy)
Crap, not again.
Yosuke’s eyes worriedly scanned Yu’s face for clues, even as his expression remained tense and anticipatory and his pulse continued to race. Yu’s mouth was so close to his — so close that Yosuke could feel his own breath beat light and hot against his partner’s lips — yet Yu was sitting still, wide-eyed and completely frozen in place, like a sentence someone couldn’t quite get themselves to finish.
Yosuke didn’t get it. So far, the day had been perfect. They’d made plans for a Sunday picnic and were sitting sprawled over a large blanket in the park. The weather forecast cleared its plans for a chance of spotty storms and had gifted the duo the most pristine sunny skies of early summer to indulge in together. The park wasn’t crowded, since the busiest Tokyo weekend events happened to be taking place elsewhere. They’d spent the time laughing and eating snacks and the boxed lunches Yu had prepared. Yu had worn a light and bright t-shirt, something that showed off his remarkable arms, and there had even been a breeze around to catch his bangs and expose even more of his devastating eyes to Yosuke’s poor, captivated heart.
Yosuke didn’t think there would have been a single thing stopping a kiss now, certainly not like last time. Yosuke had chalked that up to sheer first-date nerves on Yu’s part, maybe on both their parts. But this was their second date. A day-date in the middle of a beautiful park beneath a lonely tree.
What could be stopping Yu now, he thought, forcing down the swell of insecure thoughts that would have plagued him just short of a year ago.
“What’s wrong?” Yosuke whispered into the stillness, staring longingly at Yu’s mouth. If Yu had been any farther away from him, he may not have heard Yosuke at all.
Yu blinked, finally, and eased back some. Only then, did Yosuke catch the faint trembling in his chin as he swallowed. “S-sorry.”
The words, “for what,” slipped out of Yosuke’s mouth, as he continued to search Yu’s face for answers.
Despite everything, the bundle of horrible thoughts continued to expand inside of Yosuke’s chest, clenching his heart painfully. And because he couldn’t stop them, a series of unwelcome and repressed fears began surging through his mind, unrelenting in their cruelty and in total disregard of Yosuke’s usual logic. The vast majority of his thoughts in this surging river were cluttered bundles of debris — objects that would bruise and scrape upon impact, but would pass as quickly as they came: we’re out in public; my breath stinks; I said something stupid; he’s not attracted to me; my face looks weird; I’m repulsive; my lips are chapped; I’m making him uncomfortable; he doesn’t think I’m ready.
The most damaging thought, however, was like the water itself, and the brutal force driving its path: this thing between us is all a mistake, and Yu has no idea how to tell me.
“You’re . . .” Yu mumbled, his mouth small and nervous.
Yosuke swallowed, and waited for the pit inside of his stomach to open up and devour the rest of him.
“. . . cute.”
Yosuke blinked.
Yu had furrowed his eyes as he said it. “Cute.” As if the word itself was strange to say.
“I’m what,” Yosuke said, meaning to ask it but failing to.
“Sorry . . . that’s weird to say, huh?” Yu leaned away from Yosuke, directing his gaze down to a section of lush grass their blanket didn’t cover, off to the right.
“No,” Yosuke said, a bit confused but considerably less afraid. “I mean, yeah, because it’s me, but . . . I don’t mind. That you feel that way. And that you say it. L-like just now.” Yosuke could feel his face heat up as he finally put a lid on his rambling.
Yu glanced up into Yosuke’s eyes, the corner of his mouth tipped up into a cautious little smile. Yosuke had rarely seen Yu look so . . . vulnerable before. For once, Yosuke didn’t mind it.
With the river of negative thoughts finally starting to run dry, Yosuke felt his courage begin to return. “What I do mind, though, is why you keep looking like you’re about to kiss me and then not going through with it.”
Yu grumbled a bit and brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. They were in the shade, so the dusty pink color rising into Yu’s cheeks couldn’t be because of the sun.
“Um . . . that’s why,” Yu answered, quietly.
Yosuke raised his eyebrows. “Come again?”
“Because you’re cute,” Yu pressed, meeting Yosuke’s eyes. Yu was fiddling with a piece of grass. Yu never fiddled. “I try to kiss you, but I get caught up in the way you look at me, and then I start noticing your eyes and how nice they are, and then I realize that I’ve just been staring at you and . . . and then I . . . I chicken out.”
Yosuke stared at him in awe.
“That’s weird, too, huh?”
Yu’s plaintive smile looked so defeated, so heartbreaking, that Yosuke, as stunned as he was, leapt into action.
“N-no, no it’s not weird.” He sat up from where he was leaning back on his hands and turned his body to face Yu. “That’s not weird, that’s . . .”
But Yu’s worried eyes looked so fair in the bright, dappled lighting above them, looked so imploring and sincere, that Yosuke forgot entirely what he was about to say. The small flush on Yu’s cheeks was the same flush he’d sported the night they’d confessed to each other, and the sight touched a place inside Yosuke’s heart that he hadn’t realized was so parched. That sort of described all of Yosuke’s feelings for his partner, though, when he thought about it. He hadn’t known that he needed Yu until he met him.
“I . . . can kinda see what you mean, actually.”
Yu looked comforted by that, although his blush still stained his cheeks.
Yosuke looked down and bit his lips before he opened his mouth again, already embarrassed about what he was going to say. “I still want you to kiss me, though,” he mumbled, glancing shyly into Yu’s eyes.
Yu broke out into a real smile after that, even though it looked downright bashful. “Alright, I promise I won’t chicken out next time.”
“Next time,” Yosuke huffed. “What about now?”
Yu blinked, glancing around them confusedly. “But the moment passed.”
“No it hasn’t!” he argued, incredulous.
Somehow, that didn’t seem to convince Yu.
Yosuke sighed and laughed nervously. “Look,” he started, adjusting his angle on the blanket so that his back was straighter and his face was properly presented to that of his partner’s — and Yu, still looking a bit stunned, rushed to mirror him. “See? I’m ready. Just close your eyes and kiss me.”
Yu stared at Yosuke’s face and rubbed his palms over his bent knees, his fingers catching Yosuke’s since they were practically touching. He then looked down and threaded one of their hands together. Yosuke could see his chest rise and fall heavily. He wondered how fast his partner’s heart was going right now, thinking briefly of placing a hand over it so that he could count the beats.
“Y-you sur-”
“Yu.”
Yu nodded and took a deep breath.
“Don’t be nervous,” Yosuke said, gently, with a smile. “It’s just us. You want to . . . right?”
Yu’s face smoothed into a confident smile. “Yeah,” he said, and Yosuke could tell that he meant it.
“Okay, then.” Yosuke took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Close your eyes.”
Yu obeyed. His face was so open and trusting that Yosuke didn’t know how he refrained from rushing forward and kissing him on the spot.
“Kiss me,” Yosuke whispered. The wind rustling the tree branches above them nearly drowned out his voice, but Yu heard him. He gave a tiny nod and began leaning forward. Yosuke, viewing his partner finally leaning in towards him, took the chance to study his pale eyelashes and smooth skin, his straight nose and small, pink mouth. Yosuke could smell his cologne, rich and intoxicating, pulling him in as their noses brushed until finally, their lips met.
Neither one of them moved much, at first. Yu’s lips felt incredibly soft and pleasantly warm against his, and the only thought Yosuke had was how much he wanted to keep them there forever. He pressed in a little more a few seconds later, just so that he could expand the sensation of their connecting skin, so that he could feel the give in Yu’s lips and how they pulled against his.
It was extremely chaste, the equivalent of taste-testing something new and strange. Still, a distinct tingle and warmth raced up Yosuke’s spine and washed over his skin. Yu’s fingers entwined within his own tightened.
When they finally broke apart, Yosuke attempted another kiss right away, bumping their noses and trying to find Yu’s mouth again. Yu beat him to it, and they continued for a long while, softly pulling their mouths apart and tasting, feeling, until the once innocent warmth grew and threatened to overwhelm them.
“See,” Yosuke panted, as they separated for the last time. He rested their foreheads together. Yu’s blush had darkened and his lips were deep red and alluring. “That was easy.”
“Yeah,” Yu agreed, smiling.
“Good job, partner.”
Yu laughed and squeezed Yosuke’s hand. “Thanks.”
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Hobbit High
Chapter 11: Leaving
Fandom- The Hobbit
Characters- Ori X Dwalin, Bilbo X Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Gandalf, Thlandral, Lagolas
Rating- PG 13
Word count- 2,996
Archive Link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027448/chapters/57584533#workskin
Summary- The time had come for Ori to come home, but he and Dori have a few things talk about. Nori becomes the middle man for Dwalin, Dori and Ori and he just isn't sure he can handle that job.
Hey all, here’s the newest from my mind, please keep in mind that I do have dyslexia and I really do try to fix all spelling mistakes but some will always slip through. If you spot some please let me know and I will do my best to correct it. Thank you.
Over the next three days when Dori came to visit Ori, Ori’s relative calmness would vanish and a heavy sedative would have to be used again. At the end of his rope Dori asked Mrs. Stealbuster to be his eyes and ears, she happily agreed. Dwalin was less happy about the news as this now meant he would be the one going up the hospital to get her each day. While Nori, after trying and failing to get a few days off from school, was preparing to rain holy hell down on the twins only to find that they had already been suspended. Thorin had walked Bilbo everywhere until they heard that the twins where suspended for three weeks and Dori had officially pressed charges.
The next Friday Sharif Stealbuster came into the school as the last classes were wrapping up and found Dwalin and the gang. “Thorin.” He nodded at the boy who had is arms looped around Bilbo’s neck. “You and I need to talk, lad. Your father’s lawyer will meet us at the station.”
“Oh.” Thorin straitened up.
“Damn, Thorin what did you do?” Nori laughed elbowing Thorin’s side playfully while Bilbo looked up at him concerned.
“He didn’t do anything; we just need his statement and the lawyers just going to make sure we don’t badger it out of him.” The Sharif interjected before the situation could get out of hand. “Dwalin gave his to Tommy the other day and I’ll be seeing you later tonight Bilbo”
Bilbo visibly relaxed. “Okay”
“Good, so Nori and Dwalin will drop you at home before heading to the hospital.” The Sharif turned to his son. “Ori’s supposed to come home today so you’re going to have to help your mother get him situated.”
“Wha”
“So, he’s staying with you then?” Nori asked cutting off Dwalin’s confusion.
“We’re going to try taking him home, see how he does, if there are issues we’ll move him over to our place.”
Nori smirked. “Still not talking to Dori.”
“Adamantly refuses to see him, but excited to go home.”
“I’m sure.” Nori laughed turning and walking away. “Come on Bilbo. Let’s go!”
Bilbo detached himself from Thorin and tightened his hold on his bag strap before popping up on to his toes to place a quick kiss on Thorin’s cheek. Thorin smiled as Bilbo ran to catch up with Nori. Meeting Dwalin’s sad gaze Thorin smirked. “Jealous much?”
“Shut the fuck up.” Dwalin grumbled turning away from Thorin and his father to follow Bilbo and Nori.
Dwalin and Nori sat in the front seat of the silver four door sedan in front of 1937 Gollum Ct. waiting for Bilbo to get into the house. With a quick, “Tell Ori I’ll come see him tomorrow.” Bilbo walked through the door with a wave. Nori returned the wave as Dwalin pulled away from the curb.
They drove in silence for most of the trip until Dwalin asked quietly. “Why isn’t Ori talking to Dori?”
“Because he super betrayed Ori.”
Dwalin rolled his eyes. “How so?”
Nori turned to face Dwalin. “As you may have gathered, Ori hates and I do mean hates hospitals.”
“Yeah. I picked up on that.”
“Right, and Dori made a promise to Ori a long time ago that he would never take Ori to one.”
“Oh. kay”
“Yeah.”
“Can… Can I ask why Ori hates hospitals so much?”
Nori sighed and looked out the front window, just as Dwalin was about to apologize for being nosey, Nori began. “Ori was in the car with our parents when they were hit, came out of it with a broken arm and only a few bruises and scratches. Mom and dad weren’t so lucky and the whole mess about if Dori was going to keep us or not started while Ori was still in the hospital. So already not great but the real problem was that some dickhead new nurse told Ori rather tactlessly when no one was with him that our parents where dead. And now” Nori sighed heavily. “Well now he has this deep seeded, highly misguided guilt complex that makes him believe if he’s in the hospital someone is going to die.”
“Oh Shit. That sucks.”
“Yeah, yeah it does.” Nori looked over at Dwalin and smiled at the sad look on his friends face, reaching over he poked Dwalin’s cheek. “But you have to stop being a sad panda ‘cause you just might get to have your new boy toy in your house.” Dwalin swatted Nori’s hand away and avoided looking at him. “What’s this? No indignant. ‘You shouldn’t talk about him like that’ or some extremely dirty retort that’s super out of character for you?” Dwalin didn’t respond. Nori narrowed his eyes and growled. “God, tell me you’ve seen him.” Dwalin shook his head ‘no’. “Damn it, Dwalin! Like this isn’t hard enough on him!”
“He doesn’t want to see me! I’m the reason he’s in there!” Dwalin shouted.
Nori growled and punched Dwalin’s shoulder, hard. “Get over yourself. He finally gets a relationship with you and as soon as he makes an idiot of himself you disappear. What the hell do you think he’s going to think? I can tell you; he’s not going to think it’s because you’re a fucking pansy, that’s for damn sure.”
“I-I, oh… shit.”
“Damn straight! So this is what you’re going to do, when we get there I’m going to help your mom with something out of the room and you, you are going to talk to him.”
“Okay, dad.” Dwalin grumbled.
“Fortifie!” Nori ejaculated fist pumping the air.
Dori was leaning against the nurse’s station counter filling out the discharge paperwork when the elevator door opened revealing Nori and Dwalin. “Hey Dori, I didn’t know you were going to be here.” Nori said with a smile walking over to his brother as he gave Dwalin a shove down the hall.
“Don’t tell him I’m here.” Dori said sadly barely glancing up from the paperwork. “I’m just filling out the paperwork so you can take him home.”
“Ooo, that bad.”
Dori nodded his head with a sigh. “I just don’t want to start something that will keep him from coming home.” He put down his pen and looked up at Nori defeated and desperate. “Just let them in, help them get him settled and give Mrs. Stealbuster your keys, she’s going to be coming over to keep an eye on him during the day. Just, just don’t run off today, can you do that for me?”
“Yeah, okay.” Nori patted Dori’s shoulder.
Dwalin gently wrapped his knuckles against the open door before stepping into the room; Mrs. Stealbuster looked up from the small bag on her lap and smiled at her son. Dwalin twitched his lips into a small smile at her before turning to look at Ori who was dozing softly on the bed. “They gave him a light sedative to help keep him calm for the change over.” His mother offered, Dwalin simply nodded.
“Do you want me to take that?” Dwalin indicated her bag with a quick hand gesture.
“No, you need your hands free to help with him.” She smiled a knowing smile at him, at which he frowned. Nori walked into the room fallowed by two nurses. Dwalin and Nori helped the nurses load a sleepy Ori into a wheelchair and then the small group started for the door.
Nori waved ‘goodbye’ to the Stealbusters as they drove away before heading back up to Ori’s room. Stealing a pillow from under Ori’s head and tossing it on the floor he settled in, to wait either for Ori to wake up or for Dori to come home. Ori rolled onto his side with a grumble as Nori pulled the pillow out from under him. Nori pulled his laptop out and poked Ori’s leg a few times while it booted up, Ori sleepily swatted at him. Nori smirked took out his phone and snapped a quick sleepy, recovering baby brother selfie to post on his blog.
Dori pulled into the drive way at five forty-five and simply sat looking up at Ori’s window for a good fifteen minutes. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, he felt for the Durin boys they had done something stupid that could potentially follow them for at least a good chunk of their life. But at the same time Ori was in the hospital and apparently this wasn’t the only incident with the twins. So sure he felt for the boys but they had brought this on themselves. Not only was he fighting with that, there was the cold fear that he too could be blamed and lose custody of Nori and Ori over the whole ordeal. This was only exasperated by the fact that Ori blatantly refused to see him let alone speak with him. With a frustrated scream Dori finally unbuckled his seat belt and headed for the house grabbing the bags of Mexican take out as he did.
Nori closed his laptop and leveraged himself up when he heard the front door open. “So are you going to come get something to eat or are you just going to continue pouting?” Nori asked the poorly pretending to sleep Ori who simply ignored him. Nori shrugged “More for me.” and headed down the stairs, he found Dori in the kitchen pulling some plates down from the cabinet. “Senor Dragon’s! Nice!”
“How’s Ori doing?” Dori asked reaching for some glasses.
“He seems fine just lying in bed pretending to be asleep, being a pouty little baby, you know.” Nori snagged a fresh corn chip out of the bag and hummed approvingly at the warmth of it.
“He hasn’t talked to you at all?” Nori just shook his head crunching another chip. Dori sighed. “Well do you think he’ll object if I bring him a burrito?”
“Yes,” Nori pulled the foil wrapped burritos out of the bag. “which one’s his?”
“Yes.” Dori said dejectedly, causing Nori to look up.
“Yeah, come on Dori he won’t talk to me and I’m not the one who forced him into the hospital.”
“But I,”
“Yeah I know, I know. But you know how he is and it’s going to take some time. But hey now that he’s out it should go easier.” Nori jerked the burritos at Dori.
“I hope so, the middle one I think.”
“Okay, be right back.” Nori dropped the other two burritos and bounded up the back stairs.
Ori sat against the wall on his bed staring at the far wall. He felt stupid; he had felt stupid since this whole debacle started and more over for not talking to his brothers. But he, they had, Ori was just so angry with them he couldn’t understand how they could do this to him. Okay, so he could but he really didn’t like it. “Burriiiiiitooooo!” Nori sang as he walked the hall, Ori sighed as he prepared for the ensuing ridiculous song that was meant to get him to join them down stairs. Nori jumped through the door with another “Buurriiittooooo!” Ori watched waiting to see where Nori was going to take this musical journey.
Seeing the rather unamused look on Ori’s face Nori decided to take this in a whole different direction, straightening up he held the burrito on an open palm. “Burrito?” He offered the item to Ori who eyed him suspiciously for a long moment then gingerly reached up to take it. Nori pulled it back at the last moment. “Oh, I’m sorry this is for my brother, not the whiny little brat who is currently occupying his room.” Ori glared at Nori with a low grumble in the back of his throat. “So, if you see him let him know that Dori’s got all his favorites downstairs.”
“He can’t buy me off with food!” Ori snapped.
“He’s not trying to.” Nori snapped back, then took a deep breath and shrugged. “He’s just trying to say he’s sorry.”
“But he isn’t!”
“You don’t know that.” Ori huffed with disbelief. “No, you don’t.” Nori’s voice bore down on him pinning him to the bed. “You haven’t listened to a damned thing he’s said since you went into the hospital. If you let him speak to you at all, most of the time you would just freak out as soon as you saw him making him freak out and run off.” Ori chuckled sarcastically at the idea of Dori running away from anything even if he had seen it himself. “He’s worried about you.” Nori continued ignoring the rudeness of Ori’s laugh. “Ori, he has been nothing but worried about you.”
“If he was so concerned, he shouldn’t have put me in this situation in the first place.”
Nori huffed. “Yeah, Okay. But then I would just be having this conversation with your gravestone.”
“You don’t know that!”
“True, but Dori believes it.” Ori stopped shaking his head angrily and stared at Nori. “He’s sorry. He was and is worried about you. He just wanted you safe.” Ori didn’t move or make a sound. “O-kay, so when you get hungry enough to put up with him, come on down” Nori turned and walked out of the room a smug little smirk sliding onto his face but only once he was sure he was out of view.
Nori dropped Ori’s burrito on the counter and picked up the plate of chips, rice and his own burrito that Dori had put together for him. “I thought you were giving that to Ori.” Dori said from the table.
“He’ll be down soon.” Nori settled at the table and began to eat.
“He will?” Dori’s shock made Nori give a chuckling humming nod of agreement. “How?”
“When he’s hungry enough he’ll come down.”
“Oh” Dori’s face fell as he picked up a chip. “You’re forcing him.”
“No.” Nori said around a bite of burrito. “He can just go hungry if he wants.”
“Nori.”
“What? You want him down here, I’m getting him down here, just give it a few.” Dori shook his head at Nori. He knew he should probably reprimand him for this but he just didn’t have the energy for it.
Almost twenty minutes later Ori made his way softly and slowly into the kitchen, he stood for a moment looking around a bit lost. Dori perked up a bit at his appearance. “Ori, are you hungry?” Ori ignored Dori’s question finally spotting his burrito on the counter. “What do you want to drink?” Dori asked beginning to stand, Ori simply ignored him again, Nori reached out and stopped Dori rising. Nori stood and walked over to Ori, taking the burrito from Ori’s hand as he pulled down a plate and reheated it waiting for Ori to sit.
“Tea?” Nori asked as he moved around the kitchen.
“Yes, thanks.” Ori answered sitting down at the opposite end of the table from Dori. Dori’s hart dropped into his stomach as Ori answered Nori, proving that it wasn’t just him being too tired to bother speaking but that he just didn’t want to speak to Dori.
Ori watched his eldest brother from under his lashes, a small part of him was pleased to see the devastation on Dori’s face but the rest of him felt terrible for being the reason it was there. God, he was bad at guilt trips. Nori placed a full plate and glass of iced tea in front of Ori then plopped back into his seat to finish his meal. Ori dug into his own plate, observing his oddly silent brothers. It made him feel very… strange.
Nori leaned back and popped his shoulders, he was starting to feel claustrophobic, a wall of worry and depression on his right and a cloud of unease and tension on his left. This was going to take time to fix but he didn’t know if he had the fortitude to make it through. He needed something to lighten the mood, anything. “So,” he turned to Ori, “did you have a good chat with Dwalin?” an excited spark in his eyes. Ori’s eyebrows knitted together with genuine confusion as he lifted his head to look at his brother.
“Dwalin never talked to me.”
“Oh, for fuck sake!” Nori flung his head back with a frustrated growl.
“Why would he?” Ori asked softly.
“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Nori stood, angrily clearing his plate in an attempt to give his frustration a place to go. “I gave him the perfect opportunity and he just pansies out like the fucking moron that he is!” Ori and Dori watched Nori’s frustrated rant with countering emotions. Ori was more confused and concerned as he wondered what Nori thought Dwalin had to say to him. While Dori fought to keep a smirk off his face, he was far from happy to hear that Nori was continuing to encourage Dwalin but he was very happy to hear that Dwalin was the reason for his own failings. Nori had explained what he knew of the apparently blooming relationship between Ori and Dwalin and it had been a very long and loud conversation. It had only ended when a frustrated Nori had growled that Dori could completely lose Ori if he couldn’t get past his own hang ups. Dori frowned at the memory and glanced over at Ori. He was more shocked then he supposed he should have been to see the confusion and self-doubt in Ori’s eyes.
Nori stomped around in the kitchen while Ori sank further into himself, with a sigh Dori said comfortingly. “Maybe he just doesn’t know how to say what he needs to.” Nori paused and looked over at Dori wondering if the pod people had finally managed to replace his brother, while Ori sighed heavily and shrugged still not sure what they thought Dwalin would want to say to him anymore.
#the hobbit#ori#Dori#Nori#the brothers ri#dwalin#dwalin x ori#dwori#thorin#thorin x bilbo#Bilbo Baggens#fili#Kili#fanfiction#AU Highschool
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Hi! I... love your writing so much? It makes me very happy asdfghjkls; 💕💕💕 Could I, um, request 19 for the prompts with Javid?
Thank you so much!!
Read on Archive of our own!
* * *
Title: Is this love?
Relationship: Javid
Genre: Fluff, so much fluff
Words: 1.2k
* * *
It was night, one of those warm summer nights when the day’s heat hadn’t yet disappeared entirely, despite the fact that the sun was setting. Jack and Davey both laid in bed, too tired from the day’s rushed schedule to keep up a conversation. Their day had been far too busy in Jack’s opinion - it was summer break after all, shouldn’t they relax? - filled with carrying boxes and sweating in the merciless sun while Mush and Blink ran around their new apartment like giddy children. The newly moved-in boyfriends had bought all of them pizza, as a thank you for the help with moving, so it could have been worse. And if Jack was honest with himself, the enthusiastic looks his friends had shared all day had been more than enough to make up for the soreness he would feel tomorrow. He had caught the two of them giggling together like schoolgirls a few times during the day, but hadn’t been able to find the heart to remind them to keep carrying boxes into the apartment. Walking around - and realizing that this is it, his friends are becoming adults and graduating college and buying apartments - had made him feel something, but he couldn’t put his finger on what. Excited, sure. And happy for his friends. But also sort of longing for something.
He and Davey had walked home, idly chatting about nothing in particular, and Jack remembered how warm Davey’s hand had been in his, and how calming his presence had been beside him. A steady constance that he knew wouldn’t change, even if their friend’s were all growing up and getting jobs while he’s still slaving away for an art degree.
Their window was cracked opened, and a light breeze sought its way into the room and provided some relief to the clammy warmth in the room. Jack rolled over to his side and felt the covers twist around his torso as he did. Davey had his eyes closed, one hand under his pillow and the other stretched out beside him. There was a shine to his forehead - no doubt sweat - despite the fact that they had taken a cold shower right before going to bed. Jack’s fingers brushed over his cheek, almost without him meaning to. Then he retreated his treacherous hand, because he knew how much Davey loved sleeping and how annoyed he would be if he was woken in the middle of the night. Jack watched him for another moment, not really being able to tear his gaze away. Davey’s brow furrowed, as if he was having a nightmare, before smoothing out again after a second.
And there it was again, that pang of longing Jack couldn’t explain. A deep pull in his stomach aching, almost like a hunger he didn’t know how to still.
Was this love? Like an unyielding battle inside of him, tearing at his stomach, and heart, and lungs, fighting despite the fact that it was already won?
Jack knew he loved David, he had known it for a long time. The fact that they had known each other for years before they started dating had turned their whole relationship backwards. They had said they loved each other many time before they kissed for the first time, before even going on their first date. The words had been said so many times between them that some would argue they were losing their meaning.
But now, laying in the bed with Davey next to him, Jack was certain that wasn’t the case. How could something lose its meaning just because you said it many times? The words weren’t less true just because they were spoken repeatedly. And besides, it was something he couldn’t possibly keep to himself anyway, he wasn’t nearly strong enough for that.
He brushed his fingers over Davey’s face again, this time touching his nose and forehead, smoothing out invisible lines that could only be seen when Davey was very concentrated. His nose twitched and Jack could see a small pull at the corner of his lips. Then his eyes fluttered opened, and their eyes met.
“Why are you awake?” Davey asked. His voice was laced with sleep and kind of rough but also quiet and soft. The pull in Jack’s stomach intensified, urging him to move closer, to touch and to hold and to never let go, and to tell him…
“I love you.”
Davey yawned. “That’s nice. Is that why you’re awake?”
Jack moved closer and wrapped an arm around Davey’s side. It was way too warm to lay so close, but Davey didn’t complain. “I’m awake because I keep thinking about how much I love you.”
Davey closed his eyes, but smiled and nodded before resting his forehead against Jack’s. “Maybe you should sleep.”
Jack let out a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “It feels like something inside of me is moving, and growing, and pulling at me to do something, but I can’t figure out what it wants me to do, until I see you. And then I… Understand. Because it’s you, it’s always you.”
“The thing inside of you wants you to do me?”
Jack shoved Davey, who laughed breathily. “I’m opening my heart to you, here, and you’re being an asshole.” But there was a smile in Jack’s voice, just to make sure Davey knew he wasn’t really upset.
“Sorry,” Davey mumbled into Jack’s neck. “It’s just that I’m only now realizing what a big mistake it was to date an artist. So many metaphors.”
“You’re a writer!”
Davey was smiling widely now. “Right, right…”
They were both quiet for a moment. Jack started tracing words and pictures with his finger on Davey’s arm. He bit his tongue for almost a whole minute, before feeling the creature inside of him urge him on again. He stilled his hand and looked up at Davey’s face. His eyes were still closed, mouth half opened, breathing slowly in and out.
“Hey, babe?”
“Yeah?”
“How much do you love me?”
Davey rolled over to his back. “A lot more if you let me sleep.”
Jack giggled and scooted closer. “Please.” He leaned over and placed a light kiss below Davey’s ear. “How much do you love me?”
Davey’s eyes fluttered opened again and he turned back. “You really want to know?”
Jack nodded. Davey’s gaze was hesitant now, not teasing like it had been a minute ago. It took him a long moment to say anything, and Jack could almost see the thoughts fly through Davey’s brain, trying to string words together.
“I…” Then Davey stopped and retreated back into himself for a couple of seconds before opening his mouth again. “I think… I think I love you more than, more than my mind and body can handle. I think that if I think too long or too hard about how much I love you, I might explode because a human can’t handle feeling this much at once.”
His gaze broke from Jack’s and instead moved to the open window, out of which a street lamp and a tree could be seen from the bed. Jack didn’t follow his gaze, however, as he was too busy watching his boyfriend breathe in and out at a steady pace. He smiled. “And you called me sappy.”
“I never called you sappy.”
“It was implied.”
Davey snorted softly and shook his head. There was another minute of silence before he turned back and looked at Jack. “What brought this on?” he asked.
Jack moved forward and kissed him softly. “You did.”
* * *
TAGLIST
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Pairing: Madara Tobirama Chapter: 2/7 Word count: 1991 Summary: Now attending the university here in their hometown as he begins his Master’s, Tobirama develops a problem with falling asleep in the strangest of places. Madara, poor innocent never-deserved-any-of-this Madara, gets mistaken for a mattress one too many times. All he wanted to do was focus on his career but instead he finds himself forcibly tasked with herding his secret crush towards better sleep habits. It’s driving him up the wall.
Follow the link or read it under the cut!
KO-FI in the blog header!
Chapter 2: Vagrancy With Style
Right up until ten minutes after his lunch break ended, Madara’s day was going fairly well. He’d made two arrests and one of those was a man whom he had stopped from becoming a murderer, talking him down from stabbing someone who had offered him insults after too many beers. On top of that he’d been able to take his lunch break on time and managed to finish his entire sandwich before a fight erupted in the cells that he had to split up.
He and his partner were milling around the station doing some routine paperwork when one of his fellow officers called him over and waved the desk phone at him.
“Call for you, Uchiha.”
“From who?”
“Dunno. Asked for ‘that idiot Uchiha’ and no one calls your cousin that. Shisui’s too nice to people.” The man grinned until Madara sneered and grabbed the phone away from him.
Then he stopped laughing when Madara’s foot connected with his chair and rolled him halfway across the bullpen.
“Officer Uchiha speaking.”
“Where are you?” A familiar voice demanded. Madara took the phone away from his ear to give it a funny look, wondering if he was hearing things.
“I’m…at work?”
“Ugh.” Even through the phone no one was quite able to express disgust the way Tobirama did. “Useless. I need to sleep.”
With that he hung up and Madara was left staring the receiver again as though it might provide some answers as to what the hell that was all about. He hadn’t seen the other man for a week, not since that very weird incident at Hashirama’s place that he was still half certain had all been a dream. Nothing in that phone call had made sense but he didn’t have Tobirama’s number to call back and demand clarification.
Shisui gave him a questioning look but Madara waved him off. He didn’t know what the hell was going on either and he didn’t feel like fielding questions he had no answers for.
He gave some thought to sending Hashirama a quick text over the next couple of hours but he wasn’t even sure what to ask or how to put in to words the strange phone call he had received. It had undoubtedly been Tobirama on the other end of the line, there was no mistaking that delicious growl of a voice, but beyond identification he was stumped. If Madara could think of a single reason the man might need to call him then perhaps he might have a frame of reference for guessing what the hell he wanted.
Ultimately he ended up forcing the issue out of his mind because it was much too distracting and he wasn’t getting any of his paperwork done. There were arrest reports to be filled out, case files to be updated, endless paper to waste, and he only had so many hours in each day to do it all. Shisui was drooped over the desk facing his and watching his partner undergo the same punishment was just enough motivation to keep himself going whenever his fingers began to cramp from all the writing.
With only twenty minutes left to go before sweet, sweet freedom the doors to the bullpen opened and Madara was forced to rub his eyes just to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. A questioning look at the rookie heading towards him leading another man in cuffs earned him a shrug.
“Picked him up for vagrancy,” Asuma explained. “Told him a week ago that was the last time I’d look the other way if I found him sleeping on a park bench.”
Madara gurgled, prompted Tobirama to raise his head at the familiar sound.
“Oh. There you are.”
“Tobirama,” he growled. “You were sleeping on a park bench!?”
“You know the guy?” Asuma asked. Madara pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Unfortunately. Can you just let me handle this one, Sarutobi?”
The rookie gave him a disapproving look but released custody all the same. Madara sneered at him thankfully – an expression only he seemed to be able to master – then took Tobirama by the arm and dragged him over to the desk where they had at least a modicum of privacy.
“What the fuck?”
“It isn’t my fault you weren’t available,” Tobirama insisted. “I need to sleep, Uchiha. Now take me home.”
“You are hardly in a position to be making demands here.”
“We both know you’re not going to actually charge me with anything so let’s just go and not bore ourselves with any unnecessary theatrics.” He looked perfectly calm and unaware of how utterly frustrating he was being as he lifted one eyebrow and swanned off back towards where he was led in. Madara could feel his face twitching, confirmed by the way his partner was laughing at him without bothering to hide it.
Stomping his feet on the way passed, he snapped out, “I’m leaving early.”
Then he rushed to follow after the escaping Senju, rightfully wary of what might happen should he let the man out of his sight for more than half a minute.
He had assumed by ‘home’ Tobirama was demanding to be given a ride back to his apartment but they were halfway there when he was casually informed that Hashirama’s house was in the opposite direction and asked – in a very insulting manner – if he still needed directions after all these years. Sometimes he questioned his own taste in men. Why did he have to develop a lingering crush on the one person who pressed all of his buttons so frequently?
Probably because he actually sort of liked the rhythm of their bickering relationship. Not that he would ever admit to that.
No one was home when they trooped inside Hashirama’s house but they’d both been given keys to the place years ago so neither of them wasted time wondering if they were unwelcome or not. Madara had every intention of heading in to the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee but instead he found two hands planted behind his shoulder blades to steer him towards the living room.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” he asked. Just to be contrary he dug his heels in and leaned back against the one pushing him. Tobirama blew on his ear in retaliation, trilling in satisfaction when he jumped and accidentally made it easier to push him around again.
“I have told you more than once: I need sleep. Your brainless officer interrupted me while I was trying to do so.”
“Asuma isn’t ‘my officer’,” he protested. “And I still have no idea what any of this has to do with me.”
“Take responsibility for the beast you created!”
One final shove toppled him over and Madara landed face down on the couch. He had enough time to wriggle over on to his back before Tobirama was crawling over top of him and flopping down, face buried in his rapidly heating neck and arms dangling loosely around his chest.
“Senju, WHAT THE HELL!?”
“Do be quiet, mattress.”
“I am not a mattress! What is the meaning of this?”
Tobirama patted him softly. “Hush. It is sleep time now.” It was just startling enough that Madara spent a good three minutes simply lying still and wondering what he had done in a previous life to deserve such torture. Surely he couldn’t have done something terrible enough for this. Or if he had then he really thought serving the public as a police officer in this life should have made up for it.
“You have three seconds to explain what is going on or I am throwing you on the floor and telling Hashirama to have you checked in for a psych eval.”
“Rude,” Tobirama mumbled against his neck. “I haven’t slept so well in months as I did when I mistook you for a part of the couch.” He ruthlessly ignored Madara’s offended squeaking. “Now you’re just going to have to take responsibility. I need more sleep. You’re going to lie still and let me do so.” The ‘or else’ was not spoken but it was heavily implied in his tone.
Madara chewed on that for a few moments. Then he finally allowed the muscles in his body to relax, signaling defeat, and his unwanted blush kicked it up a few notches when Tobirama snuggled in that little bit closer, making himself as comfortable as possible.
“Such a warm mattress.”
“Oh shut up.”
It felt like only an instant later that Tobirama was asleep and breathing softly against the nape of his neck where he was embarrassingly sensitive. No matter how he tried to shift or twist it didn’t move the lump on top of him, only earned him a handful of fingers clawing at his chest to keep him still. Since he didn’t want to have all his precious hair shaved off the next time he fell asleep without locking his doors, Madara did eventually give in to his fate and lie still, hoping he would at least doze off again himself to pass the time.
He contemplated spontaneous combustion when Hashirama came home from work.
The sheer amount of heat gathered in his own face could probably be labeled a fire hazard but Hashirama wasn’t looking at his face. No, the man was looking at where his little brother’s face was mashed against his best friend’s neck, mouth buried in a spot that usually only lovers paid attention to and one hand fisted in the front of his shirt to prevent him from escaping. Madara counted his own breaths just in case these were his last.
“Accidentally fall over on top of you again, did he?” Hashirama asked, tone perfectly innocent but for the edge of threatening steel hiding underneath.
“No. He pushed me.”
“Hmm. Is that so?”
“It’s true!” Madara did his best to convey the urgency he felt while constrained to whisper yelling yet again. “One of the rookies picked him up for vagrancy. He was sleeping on park benches again. So I was going to take him home but he made me take him here instead and then he pushed me down and I swear I had no part it this, alright!?”
Hashirama twisted his mouth to one side. “Are we sure he even still has his apartment? It’s like he never goes home.”
“Well where the hell would all his clothes and shit be if he didn’t?”
“Oh…right.”
“Can you just help me please? I didn’t really plan on spending my off hours stuck on this stupid couch again!” Madara tried to imitate the other man’s signature pleading puppy look but he was frustrated to be denied with no hesitation.
“Nope, sorry. It still isn’t worth risking my good looks. You could probably use more sleep yourself anyway so just enjoy it, right? I’ll bring you some dinner if he still hasn’t woken up when it’s done!”
“Wait! No – get back here!”
Hashirama waved without sympathy and trailed off in to the kitchen, presumably to make sure he had dinner ready by the time his wife got home. As much as Madara wanted to be angry at him for being a big fat abandoner he had to admit that he probably would have done the exact same thing in this situation. All he could do now was lie still and hope Tobirama didn’t sleep for too long because if he took a long nap now then it would throw his entire body clock out of order and he’d be yawning all through tomorrow’s shift.
Five minutes later he realized that Hashirama hadn’t turned the television on for him and he couldn’t yell out to get the man’s attention. He managed to remain still for the hour it took until someone brought him dinner but he spent the entirety of it planning revenge against all of them, one way or another.
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Conan, Late Night Talk Shows, and Multi-platform comedy
1. Apartment 103
My college roommates and I were close. There were four of us — Ryan, Eric, Dustin, and me — and during the two years we lived in Apartment 103, we did everything together. We ate dinner together, around the table, like a family. We bought a Christmas tree together and made stockings for each other. We went to movies and watched every season of The Wire and Dexter. That apartment was the first place outside of my childhood house that felt like home.
It was the end of the semester and Ryan and Dustin had already gone home for the holidays; only Eric and I were left. He had made eggnog earlier in the day (as you do) and at 11:30pm, we sat in front of the television to watch Conan O'Brien's final night as host of The Tonight Show. I had just started getting into late night talk shows and was obsessed with the Tonight Show debacle. Here’s a quick refresher: in 2004, Jay Leno announced he was retiring from The Tonight Show and handing the show over to Conan O'Brien, then the lost of Late Night. At the beginning of 2009, Conan took over and the ratings dropped. NBC, in a panic, didn't want to give Conan the time to find his footing, and after a mere nine months, announced they were moving the Tonight Show back a half hour and giving Leno a new show at his old time. Conan quit and the network gave Leno his old show back. In the ten years since, Leno retired again, and every other talk show got a new host. Conan found a new home on TBS where he's been chugging away, doing his thing, quietly becoming the longest running talk show host of the current era.
Conan was never my favorite host — Letterman always held that spot for me, and now it’s Stephen Colbert of the current lineup 1 — but I always found him the most interesting of the bunch. Certainly more interesting than Leno and Fallon, and I was sad to see him lose the show2. Watching that final show with Eric — the images of Conan on The Tonight Show set, playing guitar with Max Weinberg and Will Ferrell as the credits rolled — is one of my strongest memories of late night talk shows, and certainly a highlight from Apartment 103.
2. “We’re Trying to be Anarchists”
Late last year, Conan announced that his now almost decade old TBS show would move to a half-hour format. The change would allow him to try new things on the show while also expanding his popular digital presence. Over the last few months, while the show was on hiatus, Conan launched a podcast, went on tour, and announced a new website that will archive every episode of Conan's shows. The shorter show would allow Conan to do more of what he does well — the travel shows and web exclusives like Clueless Gamer have proven surprisingly successful. By reducing the run-time for his TBS show, he'd have more time to devote to these extracurricular experiments while also easily playing with what the show itself can be.
On the new Conan, the desk is gone, the suits are gone, the band is gone. The set has been rebuilt, now just a small stage that can be reconfigured depending on what they are doing. Andy Richter is still there on the side of the stage. And Conan is still Conan. In the first few episodes I watched, the show felt largely the same, just shorter. As Rob Harvilla wrote for The Ringer, it was "addition by subtraction". The show obviously looked new and everything felt looser but the structure was still there: a monologue, a sketch or prerecorded bit, and an interview.
No show knows what it is in the first episode; or even the first year. The mistake NBC made in 2009 was jumping the gun, not giving Conan the time and space he needed to settle in and make the show his. It's hard to remember now, but Colbert's first year on the Late Show was rocky; with constant rumors that CBS wanted to swap his timeslot with James Cordon. And of course when Conan took over for Letterman back in 1993, he was rumored to be on a week-to-week contract. We shouldn't judge the new show by one week of episodes but it feels underwhelming after months of hearing how the new run-time would allow the show to be more experimental. Perhaps they are still easing their way into it, perhaps they still aren't sure what they can do. But for this new show to be truly exciting, it needs to get weirder. Conan needs to lean into what makes Conan Conan. There's still a lot of potential here.
Every time a new host takes over a franchise, there is a chance to mix up the standard talk show format popularized by Johnny Carson — there’s the monologue, a desk bit or a skit, two guests or three guests, and a musical act or stand up set — but each reincarnation is largely more of the same. Sure, Colbert made the monologue his own, where they often clock in well over ten minutes. Seth Meyers performs his monologue behind the desk. James Corden and Jimmy Fallon focus more on games and viral-style videos but it’s still just a white guy in a suit sitting behind a desk telling jokes and talking to people. It's a design problem, really: how do you work within the constraints of the format while making something your own? “We’re trying to be anarchists, but I’m trying to be a good boy and do a good job for the network,” Conan told Dave Itzoff of The New York Times. What he’s engaged in now, he said, “is this gradual progression toward me making the job fit me more — what do I like?”
That’s the tension with late night talk shows — especially with established francises like Tonight or Late Night: how do you honor the form that's been honed down over the last three decades while creating something new. Conan, perhaps more than any other late night host, has pushed himself up against that dominant form to question what else it could be. Sometimes, like Colbert or Seth Meyers, you find ways to work within in the system. But for Conan, the best way forward, I think, is to throw away that tradition and making something wholly his own. With TBS, he found a partner that gives him the space (and time) to try new things and make the show more like him. But the other, more important, question is: how central is the show to Conan's new output.
3. Building Your Own Printing Press
Ten years ago, around the same time I was watching the final episodes of Conan's Tonight Show with Eric, I started to get interesting in media distribution. The iPad would come out a few months later and this was when the first paywalls were being erected around newspaper websites. As someone who was always publishing little things online, I was excited by the potential and increasingly low-bar to entry. I wrote an essay for the now-defunct blog I kept through college on these changes and wondered out loud whether Conan even needed a new network. The essay — titled “Building Your Own Printing Press” — is no longer online but used the A.J. Liebling’s popular aphorism, “Freedom of the press is only free for those to own a printing press” as my starting point. The internet, I argued, gave everyone their own printing press. Conan was my prime example. Here's the key paragraph:
Under his exit contract with NBC, Conan O’Brien is unable to join another network until after September 1. So what will he do until then? Mr. O’Brien finds himself with a lot of free time and a lot of cash which make for the terrific combination to fully embrace independent media. It would be extremely easy for Conan to launch a new show without any network, contract, and deals and it could be all online, the way his fans watch him anyway. He would get to do his show, the way he wants to do it and not have to worry about networks giving him a hard time. The way we are consuming our media is changing and it’s about time the distribution caught up.
That was in 2009 — I was an overly optimistic (and arrogant) college student — and I realize now how much harder that would have been a decade ago. But now, in 2019, it is possible. YouTube stars are a thing. Instagram influencers is a term we now say without flinching. And it's exactly what Conan is now doing. Conan and TBS have entered a deeper partnership and are careful to continually point out the "show" isn't the only part of that partnership. There's already a podcast and a recently finished tour and I imagine we can expect more of that. Under the new contract, Conan can record as much as he wants each day and only owes TBS a half-hour. The rest can go online, or in any other place it fits. The format I wished for ten years ago probably wasn't financially possible then but it certainly is now.
This raises the question: how important is the TBS show to this new multi-platform comedy empire (ugh)? If anything, the show has been reduced to just another spoke in the wheel. By devoting less energy specifically to the show, each component can shift more freely. It’s here that Conan is truly subverting the late night form.
This is what I couldn’t quite reconcile ten years ago: Conan is on TV but his fans aren’t watching TV. The late night talk show is an archaic format; a relic from another era. Appointment viewing isn’t how people watch television anymore. (Think about how many times Netflix has tried to get into this area. So far they’ve been unable to crack it because it goes against Netflix’s whole model.) These shows are increasingly being watching in bits and pieces on YouTube the next morning. I’ve never seen an entire episode of Late Night with Seth Meyers but I’ve watched every single one of his A Closer Look segments.
Instead of prioritizing the show, Conan gives everything — the show, YouTube, his podcast — equal weight. It’s appealing to both sides of the generational divide, both packaged for TV and distributed across the web. You can watch it as a traditional talk show or online in short clips. While late night viewership decrease on television, they are increasing online. Much like newspapers and magazines struggled to get their content online in the early days of the web, so to are television networks still figuring out how to go digital. For many of these other shows, segments are clipped for YouTube or there’s a separate team making original content for online venues (that often feels like it’s separate from the show.) The other networks and hosts can take a cue from Conan and TBS, fully integrating the two, giving equal weight to both sides. As Conan said in another interview, perhaps in five years people won’t even notice that the “show” — in the traditional sense that we think about it now — is completely gone. Under this new model, it’s not impossible that ever-so-slowly, everything moves online.
Content-wise, Conan will find his footing within the new show. These first few weeks are testing the waters, being a beginner all over again. But it’s important to not overlook how much he’s already trying something new. This openness to different media platforms is, I think, the future of the genre. At least, it’s the future I wanted when I was sitting there in Apartment 103. I haven’t sat down at 11:30 to watch The Tonight Show since.
1. I’d also put Dick Cavett on my list right along Letterman, but his show never felt connected to the big four: Tonight, Late Night, Late Show, and Late Late Show. It always seemed like he always was doing his own thing. ↩
2. I’ve long held a theory about the Tonight Show. Letterman famously wanted it in the nineties after Carson retired — and Carson supposedly saw Letterman as his rightful heir — but the show went to frequent guest host Jay Leno. When Leno retired again in 2013, Jimmy Fallon took it over and is the current host. The Tonight Show is a brand name — that’s the popular show. It has to be generic, inoffensive, appeal to the most people. Letterman wouldn’t have been good on Tonight — he’s too smart and too weird. Same with Conan. Leno and Fallon and can do that. They are less interesting, better at appealing to the widest audience possible. ↩
#conan o'brien#late night talk shows#comedy#conan#stephen colbert#jay leno#jimmy fallon#seth meyers#the tonight show#media#media distribution#technology#television
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Thanks to the lovely @abovethesmokestacks for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely Pia, go give her a follow and then show her some love!
These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!
1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?
I started back in 2008 when I was 21 years old.
2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.
I do enjoy both, but lately it's been more reader inserts. It's challenge to write a good reader insert, to make them a natural part of the setting, to make them relatable to your audience and find a way to make them click with the other characters. Because they are meant to be a character you should be able to see yourself in, it tests your ability to make the character both approachable to a wide range of readers, yet specific enough to mesh with the story.
3) What is your favorite genre to write for?
Well, I have been called the angst queen on numerous occasions. Apparently I am a sucker for making myself and others hurt.
4) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?
Oh Jesus, probably one of the Twilight fics I wrote during the dark days of my ff.net run. I got swept up in the hype and with a few exceptions, I have no qualms about tossing those fics into a volcano.
5) When is your preferred time to write?
When I have both inspiration, motivation and time. Sadly, sometimes that happens at night and let's just say I have sometimes sacrificed sleep in favour of a story. Generally, though, I don't have a preferred time of day.
6) Where do you take your inspiration from?
From anything and everything. Something I've seen or heard or experienced, videos I've seen, songs I've listened to.
7) In your Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavors fic, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?
The final scenes of Assorted Flavours is close to my heart. Same with the scene in the Easy As Pie-chapter where they discuss Bucky's metal arm.
8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?
I haven't made major amendments. Someone may have pointed out typos or missing words which I have edited, but nothing storyline-wise.
9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why?
I am a sucker for a lot of Seb's characters, especially Bucky and Hal. And Chris Beck. They are fun to write and there is so much that can be done and explored with them.
10) Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?
I wanna preface this by saying it's not so much I dislike them as I find them hard to write well. Tony and Thor hard for me to write because I can't seem to connect as easily with them as I can with other characters, and I'd hate to do these guys wrong.
11) How did you come up with the title for the Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavors?
This is the eternal struggle with me, to come up with a good title. I knew I wanted something that alluded to reader being a baker and one my Spotify playlist shuffled to Emily Browning's rendition of Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This). For the sequel series, I wanted to continue on the same theme, and my friend Loup helped me land on Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavours.
12) How did you come up with the idea for Sweet Dreams - Assorted Flavours?
I am not entirely sure anymore, but it may have included a conversation about Bucky Barnes (or Seb, or both) and cupcakes, and evolved into an idea about Bucky finding a nightopen bakery during one of his nightly walks through Brooklyn (because obviously).
13) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?
I have two. One is a Twilight fic that I abandoned and deleted when I left behind my ff.net account for good. It was never going to get finished and I didn't want any WIPs on the account. I didn't delete the account, it's basically there as an archive, but yeah. Deleted that story because I was never going to finish it. The second fic is a Gilmore Girls collab fic I started YEARS ago with a friend from Australia. It was put on hiatus when my friend started writing original fiction. That one I would love to finish, but I don't know how likely that is.
14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?
None that I am really aching to do a sequel for. That being said, with the right inspiration, I could possibly nake a third fic in the little verse I created with Hal in Cling To Me and Cling To You.
15) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?
Surprisingly, no. I've been happy with the endings to all of my fics.
16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?
Are we talking other fanfic writers or other fiction writers? For fanfic writers, just go into my fic rec tag. All of them are immensely talented in their own way. I will give special props to the writers of Not Easily Conquered because what they did with that series has fucked me up for life and I have the tattoo to prove it. For fiction writers, I do love Rowling for what she created with Harry Potter. I remember reading the books as they were published and just... I was mezmerized! I also love everything Neil Gaiman writes, it's dark and quirky and has that little something that takes hold of you. I can reread Pullman's His Dark Materials over and over just for the amazing world and mythology he created for that series.
17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?
I usually don't reread stories I haven't clicked with, so not really.
18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?
Both. I have a Bucky playlist on Spotify that I usually crank whenever I am writing a fic that features him. But I can just as well write in silence.
19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?
Yes. I cried while writing With Him I Will Stay and Goodbye for example.
20) Which part of your Sweet Dreams fic was the hardest to write?
There wasn't one part that was specifically harder to write than others. I do sometimes get stuck on transitions, how to move from one scene to the next as smoothly as possible. If anything, writing Sweet Dreams has taught me that sometimes it's totally okay to just shift scenes and not make a big deal out of it. Not everything has to be complex.
21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?
Often I have a rough idea of how I want things to play out, focus points that I want to include that function as pit stops for me as I write. The only time I haven't made a clear outline was for Kintsugi. I let the prompt guide me and hopes like hell it made sense.
22) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?
That it's a process and you learn. I was so worried about writing perfectly. When I started out in the Gilmore Girls fandom and posting at ff.net, it was really common to have a beta reader. I was new, I had no one to beta read and I kept obsessing over getting things right until I realized that I didn't HAVE to have a beta reader and that yeah, I made mistakes but I could learn from them and from reading other what other people wrote.
23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?
Maybe Snapshots. Or my T.J fic. I love them both dearly.
24) In contrast to 23 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?
Not to the point where it's an eye roll because I do like the attention my fics get. I was very surprised though by the amount of notes that flooded in for a drabble called Fight Night.
25) Are any of your characters based on real people?
I haven't really made use of a lot of OC's. Aiden from Make Me Feel Like I'm Real is the only one that qualifies and with him it's all in how he looks. When I came up with him, I had a very vivid image of a man that looked like a mix of Donald Glover and Daveed Diggs. His personality came quite naturally as he started interacting more with T.J.
26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?
There are so many that have made me blush so hard. One that I remember very vividly was when @lostinthoughtsandfeelings-blog commented on Soft Devotion that it made them feel the same kind of empowerment that the Wonder Woman soundtrack evoked!
27) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?
I have been very lucky so far in the criticism that I've gotten. Mostly it's just been typos or something similar that's been pointed out. When I started out on ff.net there were a few who commented that they didn't understand where I was going with a certain story. I think for one fic I got a comment about having dragged it out for too long, but that's about it.
28) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?
I do share some of them, simply because I get excited about them or because it's an idea that comes from a conversation that ends with "I need to fic this!!"
29) Do people know you write fan-fiction?
My husband knows, but he doesn't really know what it is (despite my attempts to explain). A few of my old school mates know I write, but otherwise no. I don't really talk about writing fan-fiction with people outside the fandoms I write for.
30) What’s you favorite minor character you’ve written?
I love Steve's parts in Sweet Dreams, and anything that involves Sam.
31) What spurs you on during the writing process?
If I'm writing a series, the feedback from previous chapters do so much to encourage me. Feedback in general motivates me. I often ask friends to give me feedback on certain scenes or passages while I write and seeing their excitement does a lot to help me push through and finish.
32) What’s your favorite trope to write?
AUs and A/B/O for sure.
33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?
I can't remember exactly which one, but it was a Gilmore Girls fic.
34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?
I'd love to say fluff, but angst just hurts so good, and getting screamed at in caps-lock is kinda fun.
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“Where did the coffee table go ?”- Bruce Wayne x Reader (erotica-ish)
Just something short and stupid written in 5 minutes during my lunch break. Didn’t proof read (I never do, I never can re-read anything I wrote so like meh) so sorry about any awful mistakes. Sometimes, I have really shitty ideas haha, hope you’ll still kinda like it though ^^' :
IMPORTANT WARNING : THIS IS EROTICA ! THIS IS NOT FOR YOU IF YOU ARE UNDERAGED, I GODDAMN MEAN IT. Like there’s cute and sweet feelings in the mix, but also…smut, so if you’re not 18 or more, or if you’re not comfortable with that sort of things etc etc, this story ain’t for you. I have tons of other very SFW story, for averyone to read, and if you wanna check those out instead, it’s right here, on My masterlist blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives.
_________________________________________________
“The mysterious case of the disappearing furnitures by detective/Batman’s partner Richard John Grayson, 8 and a half years old :
Recently noticed that furnitures around Wayne Manor have gone missing.
_Suspects : Bruce Wayne, (Y/N) Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth or a stranger. _Motive for Bruce Wayne : reminds him of his parents so he’s changing them ? But that wouldn’t explain why they’re changed on a regular basis. _Motive for (Y/N) Wayne : ...I don’t know yet, but will find one, she’s too nice to me and maybe it’s a trick so we DON’T suspect her ? Maybe she has a huge furniture dealing web out there in Gotham ! _Motive for Alfred Pennyworth : Less to clean. _Motive for “stranger” : Those furnitures must be expensive, selling them might be good, but then why does Bruce not react ? Maybe it’s a mind trick that stranger is playing on Bruce, getting rid of every pieces of furniture his parents bought ?
All of the suspect have a motive, and a good one if I might say, and I will find what is happening to all those poor furnitures !
09/08/01, chest of drawers disappeared. 10/08/01, new chest of drawers arrived, Alfred rolled his eyes at it. 14/08/01, lawn table gone. 14/08/01, a bit later, saw Alfred took down a few pieces of Bruce and (Y/N)’s bed, the headboard I think. 18/08/01, started my interrogation : when I asked Bruce he became very pale and looked “horrified” (according to (Y/N) who entered, she said : “what’s that horrified face my heart ?”). I’m not sure what horrified means, but it doesn’t sound nice...maybe he feels guilty ? When I asked my questions about the broken and missing pieces of furniture to (Y/N), she just burst out laughing. 26/08/01, today, almost the entire living room was empty, I asked Alfred and he said he was remodeling...I think he doesn’t want to worries me about our furnitures being stolen. 01/09/01, Saw da Bruc Dad Bruce sneaking out with the a plank that I believe is from the coffee table in the living room...very suspicious”.
Smiling, Dick stops reading the clumsy handwriting he had when he was eight and puts down his old “very important cases” notebook back on his deck, sighing, nostalgic.
Oh the good old days when he was the only “Batboy” (who was he kidding ? Dick knew that without little brothers his life would be boring. He makes a mental note though, to hide this forever from his brother’s sight, they would mock him too much for almost everything written in that thing).
“Where do all the furniture go ?” was his actual first case, and...oh ew, just thinking about what he discovered, a few years after he “opened the case”, where those furnitures went, was grossing him out.
But he still couldn’t help but smile at his younger self.
He was a rather cute kid wasn’t it ? His mom would agree.
His mom.
“(Y/N) Wayne”, the woman who was “too nice, must be a trick”...Oh he was so wrong about that. You were nice because you were the best woman in the World. You were more than nice. You were...Oh man you were the best in everything ! Your hugs and soothing wordsgot him through so many difficult moments...
One of the only thing “bothering” him about you, was still kind of awesome.
It was so damn disgusting sometimes. But also overly adorable.
Your only “flaw” was to be too in love with Bruce, and vice versa.
You two could be so gross when together, forgetting the world around you, kissing and embracing and EWWW !
Sometimes, your sons had to make sure you both knew they were here by making loud noises, and even then, more often than not, they’d be the one leaving the room rather than you two stopping being so goddamn in love.
But then again, it was nice to have parents (he stopped using the word “adoptive” a long time ago) that, even after years and years of marriage, were still crazy about each others.
At least, even if everything went to Hell, this would remain the case forever (he just couldn’t imagine any of you not loving the other).
With a smile, he decides to take his old notebook down with him to show it to you, knowing you’ll love it and find it so cute...though he tears off the first few pages, sure that if you read those, you’d make a comment about his “case” about where the furnitures disappeared, and WILL take great joy in embarrassing him with subtle comments about where indeed those furnitures went...
************
As much as you can, you try and take at least your breakfast and your dinner all together. So that even if you all have a busy day, you at spend, worst case scenario, a few minutes together.
This morning is a lazy one, and everyone takes their time to eat and drink some energizing beverage (you and Tim are already at your seventh cup of coffee, and your Batmom glare toward Alfred as he purposely takes the pot away from you doesn’t work, it doesn’t convince him to leave it here, and you sigh, at least, you tried...your Batmom glare never worked on Alfred).
Dick sits down next to you, where there’s a free spot (it was his turn to eat next to you, the spot on your left being permanently occupied by Bruce, your sons had turns to sit by your side), and discreetly (blessing the fact that none of his family members are morning persons), he slides the notebook towards you.
You give him a curious look, and open it and...oh the tender smile you have on your face melts Dick’s heart. You raise a hand to your heart and sigh lowly, which catch Bruce’s attention.
Your husband put an arm around your shoulders (making all of your boys roll their eyes) and lean into you to look at the notebook and oh...in that instant, if any villains or criminals would see the face the Batman was making, they would never take him seriously ever again.
It was a mix of softness, sweetness, nostalgia and “proud parent” face.
You and Bruce spend the entire breakfast reading Dicks old “cases”, from the “Mrs. Thornfield’s missing cat” to “How does Alfred make the best blueberry pancakes in the world ? I don’t even like blueberries !”, every single thing mini-Dickie wrote was extremely cute, and it made you “awwww” more than once.
You were tactful enough to hide the notebook whenever one of your other sons was trying to look at it sneakily, pretending to go fetch something and walking right behind you, and Dick was thankful of that.
************
You always loved breakfast time. It was always the perfect moment to ruffle your sons’ hair with them being too tired to argue or resist, it was always the perfect moment to cuddle close to your Bruce, the perfect moment to converse with Alfred...You loved breakfast time.
And this little “gift” Dick gave you, his very adorable “case notebook” totally made your day. You were in such a nostalgic mood all of a sudden, you wished you could just go back in time and have your baby bird being eight again...but then again, that would mean that you would have your other babies and...Yes. Right now, the present was perfectly fine.
Your sons all left a few minutes ago, and Alfred went to take care of the garden, so that only Bruce and you are left and...after he puts his empty coffee cup in the sink (you “trained” him to put his dirty dishes away AT LEAST. Alfred very much appreciated your achievement of making Bruce do that, because finding cups and plates and cutleries all around the house kinda drove him crazy), he comes back to you and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck.
-His notebook is missing pages.
-Mm ?
You didn’t quite register what your husband said, as his mouth was almost glued to your neck, kissing you eagerly, muffling his words, and, pulling slightly away he repeats :
-Dick’s notebook. It’s missing a few pages. At the beginning. And I think I know what was written on those.
You look at the beginning of the notebook and...indeed it seems like some pages have been torn away. Of course Bruce would notice that. You pull his head up with your free hand and, after kissing him softly on the lips (not enough for him as he groans when you pull away) you ask :
-What’s missing ?
-His first case.
-...I don’t remember his first case...
-You should though, it made you laugh for days if not years. And I still have nightmares about it.
A light turns on in your head, and a smile appear on your face. But before you can burt into laughter at the memory Bruce catch your lips with his and with an expert movement, takes hold of your waist, spinning you around and sitting you down on the dining table.
Your legs automatically wraps around his hips, as if of their own accord, and he smiles in the kiss, his hands already slipping up your shirt. You tear yourself off of him and with a sly smile say :
-Go easy Bruce, we don’t want to make another furniture...disappear.
But your husband finds himself even more aroused by your loud and childish laughter and, as he tears your clothes off, forget everything about “going easy”.
************
As much as you can, you try and take at least your breakfast and your dinner all together. So that even if you all have a busy day, you at spend, worst case scenario, a few minutes together.
Tim, just like all of his family members, love those moments spend all together (even though sometimes, him and Damian are close to claw at each other’s face). But there’s a question that has been burning his lips for ages now and...the occasion is too good to pass on this time. And so he launches himself :
-...Can I ask a question ?
Damian “tt” and say :
-You already did you dummy...
Ignoring his brother and even cutting him off, Tim continues :
-Why are we getting a new dining table at least once a week ? Like I never really paid too much attention to it until recently, when the table was a different color than usually, and then realized that often, I felt like something was off with a table, and that they were always different ones. And today, it’s definitely a different one than this morning. The table this morning was maroon, this one is burgundy...
Damian cannot stops himself from saying a “nerd” at his older brother’s name for colors, but is still quite impress with his observation skill...he didn’t even notice that it was a different table. But before you or Bruce can reply (Bruce had turned a nice...”burgundy color” and you were on the verge of a fit of laughter) Dick says, almost panicked :
-Believe me you don’t want an answer to that !
-But I really do, like it’s a mystery and...
-No no no Timmy. You don’t.
Jason jumps in, saying :
-Wait wait wait, now I’m really curious. What happened to the other tables ?
-Both of you, just drop it, believe me, it’s for your own good. Listen to your big brother for once. Or you’ll regret it...
-You know that makes us want to know even more right ?
-This would be a mistake though.
-Ok, now I just want to know. Mom ? Dad ?
That’s when you can’t hold it in anymore, and you burst out laughing like crazy, as your husband is turning all kind of shade of red, then becomes very pale, to turn red once again...And Tim understands.
Dick was right. Why was he never listening to his older and wiser brother ? It would spare him a world of awkward situation really.
By the face Tim makes, and the “Ew” sounds that escape his mouth, you understand that your son understood and...for some reasons it makes you laugh even more. It shouldn’t really, it should mortify you to know that your sons know you and Bruce are making such passionate love that you break furnitures. But their faces...oh their faces when they understand are always so damn hilarious !
Besides, making love between people who were head over heels for each other was a natural thing, no shame in that. Well, ok, you were their parents but...OH THAT FACE !! AND JASON AND DAMIAN’S FACES TOO AS THEY START TO UNDERSTAND !
But of course, you always laugh in such situations, and Bruce always turns red or go pale (sometimes both, like now, which was very funny to see).
Damian exclaims :
-WE���RE EATING ON THOSE TABLES PARENTS !!
Between laughs, you manage to say :
-Well, I mean, if they’re different it means that they’re clean you know.
Bruce turns paler by the second, and Damian’s horrified expression send you over the edge of laughter once again. Your sides start to hurt.
Dick looks at his brothers with an empathic expression. He remembers how he felt when he finally discovered what happened to the furnitures...Ew.
Jason, as he starts to recollect himself from the shock, says :
-Wait...So...No, don’t tell me you changed my bed because...NO !
Your laugh subside a bit and, feeling a bit guilty you say :
-Yes...
-YOU SAID IT WAS BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T STAND SEEING MY OLD BED BECAUSE IT REMINDED YOU TOO MUCH OF ME. AND THAT I WAS GONE AND YOU COULDN’T BEAR IT !!
-I promise that was the initial reason ! It’s just...we both needed to cheer up and...
-Disgusting !
-It’s all very natural my dear.
-Mom stop please, I don’t want to hear about the birds and the bees from you ever again.
And here we go again, you go back to laughing, as Bruce seems to have stopped breathing by now, completely mortified by your words.
Kissing you and discreetly touching you inappropriately in public ? He was fine with that. But actually openly talking about you and him making such passionate love that you broke furnitures on a regular basis ? Oh God...no...
Tim, with a cute scrunch of his nose says :
-Is that how you broke the sink in one of the bathroom ? I always wondered what happened...oh and the chest of drawer in the corridor leading upstairs too ? And the pillar with the old vase on it ? And...
-Stop it Drake we don’t need a list of all the thing they broke while...while...OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO VOMIT !
You laughter wasn’t helping, you realized that. You should have calmed down and explain to them this all deal but...You just couldn’t help it. They looked too funny, the way Bruce tensed up and turned red/white was just too hilarious, how Alfred would roll his eyes and sigh was just too hysterical !
Besides, you’re always very much in control of your emotions (except when someone is rude to your babies, or rude in general) and sometimes, it’s just good to let go.
You barely notice your sons hurriedly leaving the dining room, looking suspiciously at every single piece of furniture, grabbing the plates Alfred was giving them. Dinner in front of the TV then and...wait...What if you did it in the couch too ? EW !
It takes you a good twenty minutes to finally calm down, and about the same amount of time for Bruce to stop being in “stiffened mode”. He turns to you and gives you a disapproving look and you just shrug, saying :
-Hey, they asked first.
He’s about to reply but...he’s distracted by how shiny your eyes are, filled with happy tears like that. He wipes his thumb under your eyes to dry a few tears that were there while you were laughing and...your smiling mouth seems so appealing right now.
It’s always like that. He can’t ever stay even remotely a tiny bit mad at you. You’re just too...too perfect in his eyes for that. And the fact that you haven’t seen each other since this morning is enough to make him want to...
His lips are on yours. The kiss turns passionate fast. And it’s only Alfred’s :
-GO TO YOUR BEDROOM PLEASE ! Headboards are less expensive than dining tables, and besides, the shop I’m buying those table from are starting to run out of it...
and your sons’ :
-WE’RE LITERALLY IN THE NEXT ROOM FOR GOD’S SAKE !
That makes Bruce tear away from you, pick you up bridal style and carry you all the way to your bedroom, still kissing you.
Oh and what the Hell ? What was another headboard really ?
Fin.
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Will probably delete soon because very stupid.
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Bridging the Creative Gap
A few months ago I wrote a contributing article for the Clickin Moms Blog. I thought I would re-post it here:
About six months after I made Click Pro, I had an idea for a photo. It was inspired by an area under our house that is covered by our back porch. The porch covering and storage area underneath creates a similar situation to shooting in a garage - I wanted to maximize the inverse square law shooting my son playing with bubbles. But when I set up the shot, I made a mistake and set him too deep in the shadows. He wasn’t that into it and so I only had a few minutes to shoot. By the time I realized my mistake, he was over the scene and I had to give up. It was one of those times I was extremely frustrated by my mistake, chastising myself for not setting it up correctly the first time. A few days later I tried a simpler shot again, in that same area, just to prove to myself that I could work with that light. It was right around this time that I became a podcast junky. I was listening to the Chase Jarvis podcast when he started talking about this thing called the Creative Gap and defined it as this: “The term ‘creative gap’ is a way of describing the difference between what we as artists can visualize ourselves creating and what we actually create. Sometimes we nail it and the gap is nil. Other times, as you might imagine, there’s a huge disparity and the gap is wide.” For some reason hearing a definition for what I was going through made me feel better. As I continued on my photography journey and encountered the inevitable stumbles, I now had a mantra in my head to get me through - “no big deal that’s just the creative gap – I need to work harder”. It’s almost as if my mistakes weren’t mine anymore, they were the creative gaps. Calling my mistakes the creative gap instead of my mistakes took the pressure off me and made me want to work to bridge the gap instead of berating myself. No matter where we are in our journey; beginner, emerging expert, or pro – we are all striving to close the creative gap in one way or another. The fact that you are able to identify a creative gap existence in your photography journey means that you are pushing yourself and constantly learning. Instead of being frustrated by it, we should celebrate it. As I listened to the podcast that day, I immediately started reminiscing about specific photographs that required multiple attempts to successfully achieve what I had aimed to create. I had the idea for this photo when my kids were playing with the hose one afternoon and I caught one of their reflections in the window. The next night I recreated the scene and started snapping. I was unhappy with the results and ended up bribing my kids the next two evenings so that I could take it again. I played with different lenses, different apertures, different focal points, and different times in the evening. The hardest part about this photograph was that I needed the light to be bright enough to catch her reflection, but not so bright that the sky above was blown out. Needless to say, by the time I got what I wanted, my kids were a little burnt out on this! The following photo was achieved on my second try. The light in this one is coming from a west facing window. The first time I attempted it was early afternoon and the sun was a little too bright coming through, making it difficult to achieve good skin tones in post processing. The next day I tried again around mid-morning when the light coming through the window was more subtle and I got exactly what I wanted: The photo below took two nights to achieve and about 20 times of my little one walking up those stairs! I used a plug-in lamp with a shade that is circular and open at the top as my light source. The first time I took the photo I realized that the bulb was not giving off enough light to create a contrast between the shadow and the wall. The next day I went to Home Depot to purchase a stronger bulb. Then, we tried again. I leaned the lamp against the railing of the stairs to the left and stood on our landing to take this photo. I played with my positioning, the lamp positioning, and even changed which hand my son was holding his elephant in. In post processing I ended up flipping the photo to make the composition stronger.
When I analyze the photos that took several attempts to achieve my vision (aka creative gap photos), there are two specific elements that make or break the photos; the light and a genuine expression with the subject. Often times the genuine expression is nailed on the first try, but the light is not. When I go back with a better understanding of the light, the genuine expression is harder to achieve.
But, nailing what I deem “the creative gap photos” is not the most important thing. In fact, most of my creative gap photos are not my favorites. I can almost see how hard I was working to make those happen. The most important factor is the fact that I was trying. When I am bridging a creative gap photo, I am in the zone; always looking and analyzing light. I am doing the work and continuously learning.
The best thing that happened while I was working hard to close the creative gap on certain photos was the other photos that felt effortlessly captured around this time. By working on the fundamentals of photography on a daily basis, I was poised and ready to capture a photo when all the elements came together.
Some of my favorite photos were achieved on the first try often without my kids knowing. The one thing all of these have in common is the fact that amidst these photos I was working hard to bridge the creative gap on another photo.
So what can you do to bridge your creative gap? Get out of your head and GET. TO. WORK. Below are a few ideas to get you in the zone of bridging your creative gap.
Shoot continuously. Ideally this would be every day or every week. Yes, I am talking about a 365 or 52 project. This is a large undertaking but is so worth it! The difference you’ll see in your work is astounding. It is difficult at first, but as you continue on the journey you’ll notice success happening more often and as they say, success is addicting. Here are a few tips for taking on this project.
Give yourself plenty of grace. By this I mean try your best, but don’t be too hard on yourself. You are not going to achieve portfolio worthy photos every day and that is okay! I aim for one portfolio worthy shot a week and then the rest are solely for documenting purposes or practicing different techniques.
Let light guide every photo. A great photo is no longer great if the light is not right. So before you press the shutter button, ask yourself these questions: where is the light coming from, what type of light is it, and can I position myself better to make the most of the light? Light is everything in photography.
Edit regularly and store your photos somewhere that you will be able to see your progress. Don’t let your photos sit on your camera or on your computer. Edit them daily or at the very least weekly so that the editing process doesn’t become a burden. Then store the photos somewhere like flickr or use the app Project 365. Seeing those beauties will keep you motivated.
Most of us in the Clickin Moms community love photographing our kids. But with a 365 project I encourage you to take a break from your darlings every once in a while. Use still objects to practice different techniques like free lensing or double exposure.
Finally, find your tribe. Whether you are an introvert or extrovert, joining a 365 group will increase your chances of success. Plus it is motivating and very effective to have others holding you accountable. The easiest way to do this is to search the Clickin Moms Forum for groups that are starting or create a post to start your own group.
Take a class. I would not be where I am today without Clickin Moms. The classes they have available are invaluable. Whether you take a workshop as a full participant, a study along, or do a break out, you will walk away a stronger photographer. I try to watch one video a week from my Clickin Moms education archive. It’s amazing the tips and tricks I pull out each and every time.
Look for inspiration. One of my favorite things to do is go through feed stopper photographs I have saved on Instagram. I love analyzing them – what type of light did the photographer use? What small detail makes this photograph special? What is the emotion conveyed in the photograph? I keep a running list of photos I want to emulate and incorporate them within my 365 project.
Read a book. We are blessed to live in a world filled with creative geniuses. It is inspiring to read their words, getting a glimpse into their minds. The Creative Habit by Twayla Thorp is a must read for any artist. Her documentation of pushing through creative struggles and how they make you a better artist is incredibly motivating. Or flip through Capturing the Moment by Sarah Wilkerson to learn about photography fundamentals while looking at beautiful, inspiring photos. Steal Like an Artist by Austin Kleon is next on my list.
It doesn’t matter how you choose to take on the creative gap. It only matters that you are striving to bridge it. Celebrate your challenges in photography – it means you are pushing yourself and your limits and are in the process of becoming a better photographer. Embrace the creative gap one photo at a time!
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prinxess's rescreatu rant
Hey all (+Riyo), it's prinxess. I found this blog today, which naturally means I spent the next 5 hours flipping through the archive lol. This was supposed to be a short post but plans never go as expected (Warning: this is LONG). If you know me, you’ve probably seen me try to talk about this stuff in the SB—which rarely goes well, haha. I’m going to word vomit on three main things: Res’s “first come, first serve” issue, Staff/ShoutBox Culture, and my own mistakes.
This isn’t Voice of God. I’m just a flawed 20-year-old who feels compelled articulate her thoughts at least once somewhere.
I accept responsibility for what’s written below.
1. Early Birds Get the Worm
Nice names are Res’s lifeblood. The aim of the game is to accumulate as many as you can. It didn't start out that way but that’s what it's become; it's human nature to want what your peers want. We enjoy having valuable things—the proof is in the pixels. But LOL good names are now worth 1B tu? This is why people are so upset with the site. If you made an account in 2006, quickly hatched three creatu named Diamond, Emerald, and Sapphire, and didn't log in again until now, your account would be worth more than someone who joined a year ago but has put in hundreds of hours into the site.
1B is pretty abstract, so I'll offer a cold splash of in-game reality. 700M = $100
Many of Rescreatu’s issues writhe around one malignant crux: its “first come, first serve” groundwork. Meaning, if your account isn’t old enough to be sent off to grade school, then you are out of luck. With everything. If you weren’t there when you could fish tier-1 names from the Atquateen Forest, if you weren’t there during the mass graveyard purges, if you weren’t smart enough to buy valuable names en masse for cheap from naive tweens 8 years ago, you’re out of luck. Unless Mr. Moneybags disembowels him/herself into your hands, you will never measure up to the sheer wealth of a select few old users (Gunmetal, Fleur, etc).
The visible wealth disparity is unreal. It’s kind of cute—there’s this ritual where when a newbie appears in the SB, older users flood them with tu and lovely creatu because they know baby bambi can’t make it on their own in modern Res. But what about the invisible users? The 99% who never set foot in the SB? Imagine you’re twelve, creating an account for the first time. You’re given XYZtu (aka not enough) to start off with. Hatching pets is fun. You like finding clothes for your avatar in the trash. A while later, you become interested in buying more creatu, so you fiddle around with the Creatu Search. And... you realize that the only good rwns are in the 20M+ range.
Actually no—a few weeks ago, a user called prinxess went through the entire directory, cleaned out most lower-priced RWNs, and stuck them in her shop at mark-up. But hey, she left “Blisters” and “Introspective” for you.
There’s nothing to do on Rescreatu except lord your cool names over other users. Nothing else... except... wait. Isn’t the Kir Quest about colors, not names? Which brings me to my next point. Years ago, blondes were worth 700k, and albinos 3M. Players back then threw these cheap creatu at Kir and rode the Uldavian Express to higher Rounds at mach speed (there are 5 Rounds now. each need an additional 120 creatu/points to access). Nowadays, albinos are no longer stocked in ranchers—period. I’m talking chimbies and meragons, not even seasonals. To use myself as an example, I restarted Kir a month ago (I was only at 25 points, Round 1). I’ll be the first to admit I wasn’t being 100% efficient with my tu, but within a few days, I managed to add an additional 23 creatu to that number. At the cost of nearly one billion tu. 95% of which went towards beans.
If you’re a newbie with a dream of earning a Cyancu Nest, you need to give Kir 180 creatu total. That isn’t just hard—it’s straight-up impossible. From a cost/benefit standpoint, if you do not already have a substantial amount of Kir points, do not touch the Quest. Instead, buy the prize shop items from other users.
Because, let’s do some math. 180 (creatu) x 7,800,000 (price per bean) = 1,404,000,000tu.
I swear on every god out there that, overall, you will not just be spending 7.8M per creatu.
Cyancu eggs are selling for 500M each/1.5B for a nest, pretty close to that mythical 1,404,000,000 number. Just buy the egg.
A staff member once told me, “The Kir Quest is supposed to be hard.” Fair enough. The original purpose of the Quest was to fix Res’s overpopulation problem. Make higher colors valuable again. But now we’ve swung hard towards creatu extinction. The fix is relatively simple. Have Kir ask for blondes/albinos less often. Or increase the likelihood of hatching colors. Should be a simple coding tweak.
Side-note: With beans having become an integral part of Rescreatu’s ONLY real continuous Quest, why are they still cash shop items? People love to tout “but the site needs money to run”. How about put out a better product instead of squeezing users with Stockholm Syndrome/a gambling addiction out of more pennies? Actually, not pennies, it’s serious cash. The next promo is $100 for 3 retired CS eggs—a promo which was supposed to be in December, but moved because the higher ups thought users would be too strapped for cash during Christmas.
2. Staff/Culture
Hopelessness makes the newer users leave. Staff corruption poisons the rest. I’m not involved in current Rescreatu politics, but in the past it absolutely was a thing. Even with generally loved and respected staff members.
I don’t want to disclose too much information, but since I’m old and weary, I’ll say that (without asking for it) a substantial boon was thrown my way because I was friendly with a member of staff. They are still highly regarded within the community.
14BM was unabashedly shady. One day, I announced I was selling a name on the SB and got in touch with a buyer. During our back-and-forth rmailing, 14BM rmailed me to say one of us had “accidentally hit the report button” which pointed her to our conversation. She warned me the other user was ripping me off, and that she could give me a better offer. Not very professional behavior, in my honest opinion.
Way back when, BillyBob was abusing glitches.
A name appeared in anon-staff’s Showroom one hot second after the person it belonged to was banned for “using a bot to find eggs.” Anon-staff had previously asked if they’d ever sell the name and they had said no. Shady.
Real talk. A staff member told me they don’t even care if you use bots, just as long as you don’t find enough seasonal eggs to ruin the market. I think anything above 40 is considered suspicious. Nevermind if you actually have no life and want to search for eggs for 48 hours straight.
There were way more corruption incidents, but those were so long ago I barely remember them. As for current staff, I can’t speak for them. Honestly, I can’t tell who most people are anymore because of all the username switching lol. There’s this ridiculous implicit rule of “don’t ask what someone’s username used to be” around Res. Like hello? That makes no sense. Not only do they retain their unique pets, but really, if someone hated you, a simple change of username isn’t going to make them suddenly forget who you are. Similarly, the whole idea of a new username being “a new start” for the user is frankly hilarious. Especially when you act no different.
That’s unfortunately just the start of my issue with Res’s “nice” culture. I’ll call it by another name: suck-up culture. It’s this omnipresent force of saccharine sweetness that’s nearly alive from how many people are hooked up into it. Plenty of users are genuinely nice, I won’t knock that. But damn, when a staff member/older user/wealthbag comes on the SB? It’s a vicious competition to prove how close they are are with that member. Immediately, there are “glomps” and “huggles” and “we’re married!/best friends” as if they actually give a shit about the other person. You do not. I know you do not. Everyone knows you do not. You’re just trying to get free things—and hey, it’s not a bad move, since those users are generally the gifting type. Oh. The cringiest thing is when a fan gives a popular user a cheap present, so the popular user will feel obliged to give them something in return—hopefully a better something. Machiavelli must be rolling in his grave.
This sugary behavior has somehow infected staff as well. I find it doubly disgusting because I can’t even call them out on it.
“<3 oh sweetheart, just so you know, what you’re doing is called spam. [link to rules] please take a look!! :333 ^_^”
“ *pops in* haiiiii guys, sorry to bump in but could you please take this convo to rmail? :3 *hugs* squeeeee <333 *hopes you dont hate me* ”
Like, fucking Christ. I can feel their phantom arms around me in my sleep. Can anyone speak normally anymore? Does everything need to be qualified with butterflies, sunshine, and overtures of love?
Back to the subject of staff... that issue is multifaceted. First, it’s a weirdly cyclical thing. Notice how newly chosen staff are almost always friends with current staff? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen some anon that’s never visited the SB become staff purely on merit (save for artists/programmers). But I could be wrong. Anyway, users inducted into staff are usually already one of Res’s wealthy elite. I can only speak for the trend I’ve noticed over the years, but A LOT of people become staff as a status symbol. Some also do it because they’re invested in the site and want to make it better. The two aren’t mutually exclusive. You can want to help while liking the boost in popularity at the same time. The real issue with staff is how they are compensated. Getting paid in credits (cash points?) actively increases the wealth disparity in the site. There’s a difference between giving someone 100 dollars versus a handful of credits. If someone handed you a hundred dollars, would you use it for rent or on some virtual name tags? Without this choice, staff are essentially forced into one course of action: buy credit shop items, put these items in their merchant shop, sell them to users, rake in tu. Or just sell cp for tu.
Rescreatu doesn’t use their staff properly. I’m referring to writers and artists. There are hundreds of wearable items available, but dressing up an avatar to look forum-fancy isn’t the purpose of a pet site. It’s a nice feature. But I didn’t join Rescreatu so I could play dress-up, I joined for the pets, for the battle arena, for the story of it all. Writers, I feel, are the most wasted of all. Does anyone actually read the stories in the books? Does anyone buy books, even? Res should take their talent and invest in proper story lines. They have six writers right now. Come on. Put up a good kidnapping site-wide story involving Xoria and Loyna. Get a competition between Scria users and Reiflem users going. Maybe the story could be Quest-style, with the users voting on how the story moves with their tu. Do something!
...Because this site also needs a tu sink. Desperately. Contrary to popular belief, the Kir Quest isn’t a tu sink, it vacuums money up to the top dogs of Rescreatu. You buy 10 beans—where are you getting these beans? More than likely, it’s from a staff member selling 70 of them in their shop. IRL right now there are 4 users selling beans: Feather x34, Isolation x30, Umbreon420 x1, Phos x36. Nothing against these users—in fact, I like them, but do you notice a trend? What do staff do with all this tu? They buy names at premium prices because they can afford to.
Q: Wait, prinx. If you just paid real money, you could have lots of tu too! A: My honor code forbids me from validating freemium games
Q: But, prinx. Why don’t you just become staff? A: I tried when I was 13 but they didn’t accept me ): Probably for good reason.
It’s shocking that the stock market hasn’t been removed/tweaked yet. It shouldn’t be possible to buy 50,000 stocks of FAS for 400k on Sunday, and sell that for 20M one week later. This is another reason why names are considered the real currency on Rescreatu. Their value increases along with the inflation. It’s the only safe investment you can make.
3. Me
So, my long-winded rant is out of the way. Above, I mentioned I’d like to apologize for myself, so here I go. For context, these past few months I’ve been trying to get rid of my RWNs through forum auctions. In the latest thread, I stuck in an umbrella clause basically saying that I reserved the right to pull whatever bullshit I wanted, which I used, without warning, to tack 1.2B Autobuy options to the names. Half my reason was I was being egged on by a friend to do it. Half was because I just didn’t care. Never in my wildest dreams did I even imagine one person would actually go for it, let alone 3. When I opened the thread the morning after, I felt dread. My actions understandably upset quite a few people. I acknowledge that what I did was unprofessional. I regret it, and I’ve learned a valuable lesson.
In general, I’ve spent my recent years on Rescreatu being rude and abrasive. Trying to tie 14 year old staff in logic knots, picking at overly sensitive members, engaging trolls, the works. I’ve been throwing angsty melodrama around like glow-sticks at an EDM concert, and it isn’t fair to the newer members who have no memory of Res’s past.
This post clocks in at 2.5k words. The only reason I’ve written so much is because Rescreatu means/meant so much to me. For all its faults, Res somehow just works. Maybe because it encourages addictive behavior. Maybe because of the community. Whatever it is, it’s helped the site escape multiple waves of peril that would’ve killed any other. For that it deserves some applause.
If you want to contact me, rmail me or email me at [email protected]. I don't bite
Peace.
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3. My resentment with the community (part 2)
previous post: 3. My resentment with the community (part 1)
next post: 4. All the shit I have done
So, I talked a lot about that topic already. But that’s still not it. Let’s continue, because I still have a lot left to say and a lot that I want to tell you. Eventually, I was an emotional wreckage pretty fast. Maybe I reacted too hastily. But as you all know, I archived my blog, and pretty much murdered my own character with that action. I really got the feel that it wouldn’t make a difference if I was there or not, and I was so sure I was causing discourse and stress and bothered everyone that I came to the conclusion I have to go. I have to say, I never expected such a huge reaction to that. I didn’t expect people to be sad about it, or to even show any kind of emotion to that. I didn’t expect that one support post. It appeared out of a sudden and out of nowhere. I had absolutely no clue that the person did that, and only after that post was made and posted online some people who have added me as a friend on discord notified me about it. It was a post that asked people to like and reblog it in order to show that people still had interest in writing with Joe, or at least to show that they appreciated that I was there. Not only that, but some sent me screenshots about the notes it got, and screenshots about the tags people wrote. I read through all the tags in the reblogs, and I took a look at the notes that continued to rise even the day after it was posted. This brought me to tears. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you here that I cried seeing all that. I could’ve never imagined that people I only met on tumblr and even people I never engaged with would’ve shown so much support and sympathy. I wasn’t sure if I could accept such kindness. It was hard for me to realize that apparently, people really missed me, or that it seemed like that at least. Of course, I was happy about that. I felt joy, and I felt important, important enough for people to do this. But at the same time, I felt immense guilt, because I thought I didn’t deserve any of this after disappearing like I did. I acted out of spite and passive aggressively, and yet people tried to reach out and show me that I mattered. And I felt so much gratitude that I had trouble to think of a proper way to thank everyone and how to express that. It was a really good feeling. That post warmed my heart. I really considered returning immediately after that. But I couldn’t. I felt like I am not allowed to return so fast after I left. I felt like people won’t ever believe me or won’t take me seriously anymore if I change my mind so rapidly and cannot decide what to do. I feared I will lose the trust of anyone and that no one will ever listen to me or to my opinion. So I wanted to wait a little longer before I come back. However, that was a mistake. The longer I waited, the darker my thoughts got. Meanwhile, I even tried to cover my upset about Moira. I was not over it, not at all, and yet I thought I were and tried to make some neutral comments about her on a discord server I was shortly part of. I joked around, I even considered headcanons between her and Joe. But then I heard her voice for the first time, and I panicked since her voice sounded similar to the voice claim I have chosen for Joe months ago. And everything fired back. I was not ready, I lied to myself and I fooled myself. Then, I started to feel fooled by the community, and fooled by the support post. I read it again. This time, I thought differently about the post. It never stated that they want me to come back really, or that they try to achieve that. It stood for support, and said that it also supported everything I have done so far. This time, it sounded to me as if people have put the whole matter of me being gone behind. So, that meant for me that the whole post didn’t matter anymore. In hindsight, it was really nice that people went through all the trouble making one, reblogging and liking it. But it didn’t change a single thing. Curse me and my curiosity, I was still checking tumblr and still checking some of my favorite blogs. Despite having reblogged that post, people just continued with their everyday life and existence on the website. It is logical to move on, I get that. However, I felt hurt and I felt as if my point was proven, that it really didn’t make a single difference if I was there or not. Everyone continued to interact with every Moira available. Everyone continued to reblog every art post and every other post containing her. The popular fanon of her making Widowmaker spread wide, almost across every blog I have known. Or, in short, I saw how Joe got replaced, and how easily replaceable she is. I stopped believing people who said to me, or wrote in the tags that they loved Joe and thought she was a great character. To me, these are only words, but I don’t feel as if there ever was a real meaning behind it. Especially not seeing how fast Moira took over. I know that emotions are not rational and that everything might have been different from what I perceived. However, this is the impression I got and this is how I felt and how I still feel. I got the feeling that I am not missed at all. The feel that I probably was never a real part of the community and probably never had a real place in there got stronger and stronger. I also looked through the notes again, looked at who had reblogged or liked, and what was written in the tags. That post also revealed something really hurtful to me. Some of my mutuals, or perhaps former mutuals by now, never interacted with that post. Either they didn’t see it at all, or they didn’t bother at all. And I believe it’s the ladder. It gave me the feel that I was wrong thinking I had made friends, it gave me the feel that I those mutuals never even noticed I was gone, and therefore, never really cared about me of my blog. Considering that these mutuals really meant something for me, it was painful to come to that realization. Taking another look at the tags, I felt confused and had mixed feelings. I was doubtful, and started to question whether people meant it when they wanted me to come back. Some people even wrote stuff in the tags like, they saw me interacting with their mutuals and never knew how to get their muse and mine to interact. Or that they would want to interact with Joe now if they got the chance. I didn’t like reading those tags at all, and they made me feel bitter and even angry to some degree. I understand it is difficult to approach someone new. However, in my opinion, it is easy to say those things once a blog is archived or gone. I felt as if they weren’t even trying. I felt messed around. I even followed one or two of those who wrote in the tag that they wanted to interact with Joe. However, I never received a follow back from then, and even after sending them meme asks, it was as if they didn’t notice me. So, why now? Why now, when I am gone and Joe is no more? I didn’t feel good with that. More and more, I got the impression that the post was liked and reblogged out of a whim. I had the impression that people reblogged that, thought about it for only a few minutes, and then forgot it immediately to continue whatever they were doing. I got the impression that people did that to ease their conscience for whatever reason they had. It felt like they didn’t care about me, but more about themselves, so they wouldn’t be seen as uncaring or similar. I cannot prove that claim. Maybe I am wrong. But this was my impression afterwards. It was nice to hear “please come back!” or “come back Joe”, but, as I already said, those are words. And from what I saw, no action followed after that. It felt like, yeah, that’s it. That’s all. To say it directly and bluntly: It felt like no one of you ever cared about Joe, and that you never missed her and that you all have forgotten her already. Some people even brought another post to my attention. I had the impression it was a call out post to the roleplay community, mainly aimed at the people who have sent me those anonymous messages. The post sounded kind of aggressive, and clearly expressed how upset the writer was about this happening and how angry they were that a blog got chased off. However, the post was not about my case. I doubt that. The wording was vague and really poor. Looking through the notes and the reblogs, I quickly noticed that everyone interpreted that a Moira rp blog got chased off. They didn’t question what has happened or what was observed. People immediately jumped the gun and went ahead protecting Moira, protecting the canon character. In all honesty, I am confused why people showed me the post and why they insisted it was about me. Further, that post even showed me that people will always care more about the canon characters than any oc existing. This was the impression I got. I felt… a little more indifferent about the post than I assumed. And I felt bitter. I guess my constant mood was bitter and upset. And hopeless. In conclusion, I felt hurt. I felt dismissed, pushed aside and replaced. In the end, I don’t think it were the anons that chased me off and made me leave. They played a part in it, I won’t deny that, but I feel like the fact that I lost close mutuals and friends, that the roleplay community gave me the impression that it’s just an oc and that it doesn’t matter if an oc is there or not, that people moved on so quickly – I think those hurt a lot more, and that those were the reasons why I have gone in the first place. It wasn’t the anonymous messages from people I don’t know. It was the people I thought of as friends, the people I thought we were close to each other.
#[it's a matter of course: psa]#an open and honest letter to the community#point 3 part 2#please do not reblog#please interact with the post linking every point
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Blog #5
So in class we had read over the voices of freedom summer play written Frank Kuhn that was originally inspired from a collection of photographic images from the archives of the University of Southern Mississippi. I read this play in the perspective as a black woman which was incredible interesting to me since it is a point of view that I wouldn't be able to personally go through. Reading through as a black person during the 1960′s when such terrible but incredibly important events were erupting all over Mississippi. This play helped put me in perspective of how this all these horrific stories and the common society disrespect really was a problem we had. It’s easy to look back at our history that happen over 50 years ago, and be able to talk about it with incredibly less emotion. Being placed in the POV forces you to go through the events at a more personal level. Something that I really loved about this piece. A line from page 26 read from my perspective spoke of an event that happened while she was getting driven home by a few of her friends. It was with Marty Mullvain, Stuart Rawlings, Malcolm Zaretsky, and a few others, they had drove out towards a less populated area they had gotten pulled over. The man came up to the car with an already hostile attitude, he spoke to them for a bit not noticing the only black person in the car yet (me, the POV of a black woman). Once he laid eyes on her his whole persona became even worse. Using derogatory terms and demanding answers to his questions of “N---r, what you doing in this car?”, “What’s your home, n---r.”, and he then said that I should “step out of the car and I’ll take care of you.”. All while the other genuine guys in the car were only trying to diffuse the situation and get the young woman home safely. Which was far from appreciated as he was shooting back horrific comments such as “I hope n---rs are raping your mothers.”, and going even as far as slapping one of the men as well. This singular scene left such an impact on me and really displayed on how prevalent, horrific and insane this point in time was for people, that could have been me (I mean not actually) but thats a situation I could have been me with all of my friends driving home some random night. If anything like that were to happen in todays society the news would spread like wild fire and justice would be served, but this was just everyday occurrences that black people just had to deal with, there injustices were going unnoticed. Which flashing to modern day society just seems so incomprehensible that this was how we believed to treat people. Seeing the arrival of the students from oxford and such was also a cool part to read but seeing how some of them got treated also baffled me. We got shown many different viewpoints mixed with many different interactions. Like on page 18 with the three while girls that were approached by a chief deputy sheriff who began to interview them a even called them “a bunch of runaway girls from the North”, he soon figured out that they belonged with the oxford group. They girls then were picked up by a black man and driven to their destination, being closely followed by the same sheriff behind them.
On my opinion of if censoring should be allowed or not I vote a big fat no for censoring, these events were real the words said cannot be undone and shouldn't pretend that they are. These words were yelled, screamed and stated for people and no matter what we do now we cant change what has already been done. Censoring allows people to cover up and lighten a subject when it was our reality for a bit we really used the words in the past society. What we can do now it look back and learn from where we made mistakes, and prevent it from happening again.
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