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[casefoxinc]

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[practice42]

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[productexperiencesummit]

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[probablyasocialecologist]

Then comes the problem of ensuring that the settler state and society replacing that of the indigenous Arabs is “Jewish.” Even in the pre-state period when the Yishuv was wrestling with the British authorities over immigration, the Jewish Agency and other Zionist institutions vetted the immigrants by their Jewishness. With the establishment of Israel, the Law of Return applied solely to Jews. Now Israel had another problem: How to present itself as a liberal European democracy while preventing the return to their homes of 720,000 Palestinian refugees from the 1948 Nakba? Population management in the form of technical legalisms provided a solution. The Citizenship Law of 1952 permitted everyone who had Palestinian nationality to return, but with a caveat: they had to have been registered residents of Israel in 1949. With that sleight of legal hand all the refugees were “legally” barred from returning to their homeland. Those that remained – 150,000 out of more than a million – were subject to some 184 laws that limited their civil rights. Some were symbolic, like the Jewish Nationality Law of 2019 that demotes Arabic from an official language to one of “special status.” Others more disenfranchising. Palestinian citizens of Israel, for example, are forbidden to buy, rent, lease or reside on land or buildings on land that are defined as “Jewish” – lands on 94 percent of their own country.

Jeff Halper, Decolonizing Israel, Liberating Palestine: Zionism, Settler Colonialism, and the Case for One Democratic State

[xvxnux]

` ♡ ~ what will your fs admire about you ~ `

` pic one ,

i see your fs will admire your duality, sensuality and even your intuition, the way you deal with spiritual issues. you may be a free spirited and very playful person, maybe you have an E in your mbti. It shows me that you are in control of yourself, you know when to be playful and when to be serious and that will be something your fs will really like about you. he will like your flexibility, will feel that everything is new as if you bring good things and new sensations and good feelings. here shows me a somewhat delicate family issue, maybe you have witnessed a delicate moment in relation to a family member (maybe friends too) and shows me that you dealt with it very well and moved on and your fs will admire you a lot for that . he sees in you a very great power of overcoming and regeneration, your fs may wonder how you manage to stay that way even after going through some bad things. you have the power to give a good meaning to things, pile 1. everything seems to go well when it comes to you, can be a person who helps others by showing a solution to their problems. can give direction when they need it. your fs may also be attracted to your breasts, lips, hair and thighs.

` pic two ,

for you pile 2 has a very strong and beautiful energy, of love… it shows me that in addition to some things that your fs will like about you, i’m getting an intuition about the way you can get to know, or even how you will be in the moment. your fs will be in love with everything about you, definitely. i see that he will like your emotional side, he will see you as an extremely intelligent person. you can catch him admiring you from afar or admiring while you sleep. possibly you might go through a bad time, and it might involve some thoughtless actions on your part. you can meet your fs in a moment of war with someone and even in a moment when are getting into trouble. be careful not to lose your essence, always remember to upgrade your serotonin because you tend to become a little bitter when you don’t see meaning in life. once you meet your fs you won’t remember past, bad choices and anything like that. you will be very happy pile 2, there is a lot of love in there. your intelligence will delight your fs a lot and he will always encourage you to be more and more! your fs may be attracted to your appearance in general but especially in the impression you give to people, you can seem like a serious person and he likes that.

` pic three ,

here i see that possibly you will have a lot of things under your responsibility when you meet your fs and this can even fit in legal cases. i see that he will admire the way you think and conduct things a lot, your are can be very similar with this person and with that he will admire you for thinking like him, acting like he would. but other than that even though he’s worried about you being responsible for something, he admires the way you handle it. he can read you well and knows that it’s something that overwhelms you, something that makes you get into a lot of arguments. he likes to see that despite all this you continue in search of your happiness and goal, i see that your fs will be able to do anything for you to continue like this and i see that he would not hesitate to take all that weight and overload . your fs may also be attracted to your face (may want to touch you often, pet you and give you kisses) and the way you dress.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Fic rec for my BFF, pt.2 : Seasons 4-5

Here's the next part of my "fic rec for my BFF who's watching 9-1-1" series, covering seasons 4 and 5!

Season 4

To Build a Home We Deconstruct Our Rituals by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Post-S4, Marriage of convenience | 44K | Explicit

After the shooting, Eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. Like who will get his assets if he dies. Who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. What might happen if his family contests Buck's guardianship. Luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak: Marry Buck.

Eddie: Let's get married! In a platonic way! 😆

it's blue (the feeling i got) series by lecornergirl/ @clusterbuck

Post-Shooting | 4 works, Complete | 37K

don't want no other shade of blue but you (Post-S4E14 | 11K | Teen): “You can’t go see your son like this.” That gives Buck pause. “He’s not—he’s not my son.” “Isn’t he, though?” she says. And part of Buck wants to argue, but a bigger part of him thinks, isn’t he, though? Not by blood, sure, or legally, but in all the ways that matter, Christopher is as good as his son. if your cascade ocean-wave blues come (Post-S4, Getting Together | 16K | Mature): “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” Ana sounds disappointed, but not all too surprised.“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Sorry.” “It’s because of Buck,” she says, barely a question. “Isn’t it?” “Um,” Eddie says, because he doesn’t really know how to answer that when Buck is flipping pancakes at the stove three feet away from him. in my eyes, my heart, my soul (Fluff | 2K | General): “We made you pancakes for Father’s Day,” Christopher says. Eddie watches the expressions that cross Buck’s face. Surprise, confusion, then a careful kind of joy like he’s beginning to put together exactly what Christopher means.  “For—for me?” Buck asks, so quiet Eddie barely hears it. “Yeah,” Christopher says. “I want you to be my other dad. If… if you want to be.”  the blues, and then purple-pink skies (Established Buddie, Secret Relationship | 8K | Teen): OR: three times Buck and Eddie (think they) manage to hide their relationship, and one time the truth comes out.

Stucky has Post-Winter Soldier recovery fics, Steddie has post-Upside Down recovery fics, and Buddie has Post-Shooting-Buck-moves-in-with-the-Diazes fic! 😆

this must be the place by euadnes/ @kananjarus

Canon Divergent, Post-Shooting | 75K | Teen

Every life altering event is often led up to with a series of other important events. In this case, there were at least three: An unstoppable fire. An afternoon spent underneath a blanket of California blue sky. But firstly, and maybe the most important of all: There was the impeccable aiming of an ex-sharpshooter. Or, the Buck is also shot by the sniper AU that no one asked for.

Benign Fatality by EtoileGarden/ @etoilegarden

Time Loop AU, Season 2-4 | 23K | Teen

Eddie noticed it like this; Sometimes, when Buck’s done a day too many times, he forgets that this day might be the real day, the one that continues on into the rest of his life. It’s exhausting dying and waking up just to go die again. And the thing was, when a death was to do with work, he knew he could just ask to be man behind, or not go into work, but - but who would he be condemning to die in his place if he didn’t go in and try to avoid it? Maybe no one, yes, but maybe someone. Buck repeats days until he doesn't die in them, has an underdeveloped sense of self worth, and Eddie is the one who wants to step in with him.

Amazing fic, such an interesting concept!!

i don't swim and you're not in love by hattalove/ @hattalove

S4, Post-Buck Begins | 32K | Teen

She turns to Eddie and says something else, but Buck is busy fighting the headrush he gets at the sound of Ana Flores calling Eddie and Christopher 'the boys'. Like they belong to her already. God, what’s wrong with him? What is this? or, eddie cooks, chris domesticates a slug, and buck tries to figure out why he hates his best friend's girlfriend. to everyone's immense shock and surprise, it goes badly.

A Classic by the always amazing hattalove!!

everything (nothing) has changed by bizarrestars

Post-S4, Love Confessions | 48K | Explicit

Buck breathes for a moment, then sets his shoulders. "Eddie, there's something I have to tell you." "Do you?" Eddie asks flatly, still alarmed and doing his best to hide it. "I would've never guessed." Buck swallows. "Eddie, I love you." "Are you softening the blow, or buttering me up? Because, I've got to tell you, I'm still very worried regardless," Eddie tells him. "No, you don't understand. I love you. I'm currently in love with you," Buck says as evenly as possible, and even then, his voice wobbles precariously there for a moment. He exhales. "You don't have to worry about it, though, because I've processed it and decided to—to find relief in telling you before moving on and moving forward." Eddie stares at him. No response at all. Well, at least he's not freaking out. Or: After Eddie gets shot, Buck confesses his love. From there, things get a little out of hand.

Literally only just read it but the idiocy in this is CHEF'S KISS 😘👌 (#eddie said: get over me??? youre gonnna get over ME??? dont think so, <- love this tag 😂)

Those Two Firefighters by DarkFairytale

S4 to S6, Social Media/Outsider POV | 64K | Teen

#thosetwofirefighters starts to gather a following on social media, as everyone tries to figure out if those two cute firefighters from the 118 in LA are a thing or not.

Just a fun crack-y "social media" fic with some outsider POV mixed in (plus some 911LS!)!

Stuck on Fast Forward (Throw Away the Blueprint) by extasiswings/ @extasiswings

Post-S5, Friends with Benefits | 42K | Explicit

“Sounds like the problem is you think casual sex with a stranger or finding someone new to date are your only options.” Eddie’s brow furrows. “Aren’t they?” “I mean, there’s always…someone you already know. Who you’re already comfortable with.” “Because my pool of male friends who are single and who would be interested in having sex with me has so many options?” “Well, I don’t know about many, but you only need one,” Buck points out. “And who would that be?” “Me, of course.” [Or: Frank gives Eddie therapy homework, Eddie misunderstands the assignment, and Buck is just a really supportive friend...right?]

Have some more FWB, as a treat 😌

Season 5

The Aftermath of Liberation and Love Confessions by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress

Post S5E9: Past is Prologue, Coming Out, Getting Together | 17K | Teen

After a very long year of one terrible thing after another, Eddie has a brand new life strategy. It’s called not giving a shit. There’s the fire of a challenge in Buck’s eyes and a clench in the set of his jaw, and come on, it’s not as if Eddie forced Buck into dating the reporter. Not like he pays it any mind whatsoever. It was doomed from the start. She’s not good enough for him. She’s a terrible fit for him. Buck’s clearly been miserable for months. Still, Buck says, “Yeah, Eddie. Why don’t you teach us. What would you say if you were professing your love?” You mean something besides, “In the event of my untimely death, I made you legal guardian of my child”? In which Eddie comes out, sexuality is complicated but coffee is not, Buck makes an excessive salad and is also roasted, everyone has a love confession, and December is the most dramatic time of year.

Eddie not giving a shit is A Mood 👌 worth reading just for the scene from the summary 😆

Courtship Behaviors of the Southern Coastal Husbro by Mad_Lori/ @madlori

Post-S5, Queer Platonic Relationship, Getting Together | 49K | Explicit

“I want you in my family, I want us to be a family. Officially. A family can be a guy, his son, and his best friend, right?” Buck’s lower lip was trembling. “You’re really asking me to be your…what, now?” “Frank called it ‘platonic life partners.’” Buck looked stunned, and also…hopeful. “We could really do that?” - Buck and Eddie decide to become platonic domestic partners and co-parents. They are 100% super normal about it and absolutely nothing is awakened in them, except a mutual annoyance at being referred to as "husbros."

Love love love this series!!!

everything's coming up milhouse by hammersmiths/ @bucktommys

Post S5E10: Wrapped In Red, LAFD Liaison Eddie | 10K | Teen

LAFD Updates (@L*A*F*D_Metro) LAFD Alert: Red-level traffic on Gardiner Road this morning. If you are trying to get into the city centre consider taking Westerley Lane. buck 🔥🔥 (@firebuck) so true bestie or, Eddie mans the LAFD Twitter account. Buck tries to be supportive.

THE Twitter Eddie fic <3 just a funny social media fic but it's real cute!

let's hear it for the boy by hattalove/ @hattalove

Post-Season 5, Eddie Coming Out | 56K | Teen

in which eddie attends a self-empowerment group for gbtq men to supplement his therapy, and is empowered to: forgive himself, say "i'm gay" to his own reflection in the mirror, accidentally adopt an adult, make fried rice, and tell his straight best friend that he's in love with him. not necessarily in that order.

Such an amazing Eddie character study/coming out fic, so good <3

The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Post-S5, Fake Relationship | 43K | Explicit

The Buckleys are celebrating their 50th Anniversary, and Maddie and Buck are both expected to come. To take the heat off Maddie, Buck impulsively blurts out that he's seeing someone new. Obviously, there's only one solution: bring Eddie as his fake boyfriend, pretend to be in love with him, and survive the weekend with minimal bloodshed. No problem, except for the, uh. "Pretend" part. Oops.

Excellent fake relationship fic!! it's got it all! Pining! Practice kissing! There was only one bed!!

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania/ @hmslusitania 

Post-S5, Missing Presumed Dead, Amnesia | 44K | Mature

“We’re here for our grandson,” Helena says. “Chris is still sleeping,” Buck says. “I meant, we’re here to take him back to Texas,” Helena clarifies. “Yeah,” Buck says. He’s too tired, way too tired to be tactful. “Over my dead body.” An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed. While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

The angst is SO GOOD!!!! A re-read favorite.

Plus or Minus by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress

S5 | 10K | General

"Chris said you were crying. You came home, hugged him, and cried more than he’s ever seen.” Eddie considers for a moment but then shrugs and continues neatly stacking mugs in the cupboard. “It happens. Sometimes. I’ve been told I’m supposed to let it out instead of bottle it up. So. There you go.” “Why are you cleaning out the kitchen? Why is my stuff in boxes?” Eddie slows, then stops. “Figured you’d want it back.” It’s quieter. Pained. When he says it. “I haven’t decided anything. So unless you’re kicking me out—” “Buck. Come on.” He’s not angry or snapping. It’s still quiet, and somehow that hurts even more. He’s resigned and defeated, and Buck is a scooped out, gutted, hollow shell. “I know how this ends the same way you do. You want to be loved, you want to be married. You’re going to leave. Might as well…” His voice cracks before he can finish and get it under control. “Shouldn’t drag it out.” ~ Taylor is offered a job across the country and asks Buck to go with her. Buck has to figure out if he wants to start over or if he has a reason to stay right where he is.

The notes on my bookmark are: pining so good it gives you chest pains 🥺

Canon Divergent/AUs

Even in Winter There is Eranthis by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Inspired by Hades&Persephone, Mythological AU | 45K | Explicit

Buck is supposedly a god. Supposedly. But he's got no idea what his domain is or what role he plays in Olympus. When he meets Christopher, a young boy lost and trying to find his father, he helps Chris get home - and ends up accidentally binding himself to the Underworld. Now bound to Eddie, the god of the dead, Buck must spend half the year with him in the Underworld while winter reigns above. But even as something grows between them, there are still trials to endure. Just because the gods are not mortal... does not mean they cannot die.

my words are paper tigers by hattalove/ @hattalove

Time Loop, Canon Divergent | 20K | Teen

He wakes up with Eddie's arm thrown over his waist. There's a pit in his stomach as soon as he opens his eyes, because the alarm is on again, the same radio station, the same song. The sunlight streaming into the room is buttery-soft, brand new because it's early. The alarm is ringing so they can take Chris to school. And— He reaches out for the bedside table on his side of the bed they share, clumsily unplugs his phone one-handed. The screen lights up to a familiar wallpaper, and it's right there, just above the top of Buck's head: Wednesday. or: buck breaks up with eddie, even if it means losing a part of himself, because it's the right thing to do. the universe decides to test that conviction.

I fucking love time loop fics!!! 👌

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston/ @ebjameston

Canon Divergent, S2, Ghost Buck, Witch Eddie | 41K | Teen

Eddie is the newest firefighter at the 118. Buck is the ghost haunting the 118. Unfortunately for both of them, Eddie's also a witch and needs to put Buck's spirit to rest, because that's what witches do. Turns out, Buck's spirit? Super not interested in being put to rest. Very interested, however, in flirting with Firefighter Diaz, who is just trying to survive his candidate year. (Also turns out, Buck? Super not dead.)

I know you love witchy vibes and I really enjoyed this one! There's also a great podfic if you like that.

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I was researching face paralysis and I've read that in some cases (for example, Moebius syndrome), people are unable to move their eyelids, which means being unable to squint, or even fully close their eyes. I've been wondering how does that affect eyesight? As far as I'm aware, blinking (or just closing your eyes in general) is very important to keep your eyes moisturized and clean. How do paralyzed people deal with it? Do they manually moisturize their eyes every few minutes (or less often? I'm not sure, perhaps eyedrops are more effective than quick blinks and can keep your eyes moisturized for longer periods of time?) Do their eyes become more sensitive and end up needing extra protection? Or maybe they don't manage it at all (because it's ineffective, tiresome, etc) and just eventually become blind due to eye dryness and damage? I've been trying to find answers to this question, but I only found reddit posts about hypothetical situations like "what if you suddenly stopped blinking?!!".

Hi!:-) Interesting question!

Some people do have issues blinking due to facial paralysis, though even in Möbius syndrome not everyone does. There's also some differences between voluntary eye closure and involuntary blinking reflex in facial palsy; some people can do both, some cannot do either, and some can only do one but not the other. In some kinds of paralysis the muscles can actually spasm involuntarily, and for some people it involves the eyelids. I have a problem with that on the effected side of my face, I have very poor voluntary eyelid control, but my eyelid there will sometimes half-blink for me in addition to the regular blink reflex.

The most common solution for the completely absent blink reflex I know of is applying eye drops, and otherwise protecting the eyes from the sun via hats or sunglasses. There are also some devices that help with dryness, such as punctal plugs, or special tapes to close the eyelids for sleeping purposes. For more solutions, you can check out Facial Palsy UK's page on dry eyes!

How often someone might need to use their eye drops will depend on both their personal needs and what kind of drops they're using, but the most common frequency I've seen is a few times a day. Environmental factors are also a thing here (and apply the same way as they do for everyone else, wind = gets drier faster).

If someone is unable to moisturize their eyes in any way, the cornea will eventually get damaged (in Möbius syndrome it's often corneal ulcers), which leads to sight loss over time. It can also be painful (if the person can feel pain in the eyes). For people with milder blinking issues, the symptoms could be limited to irritation with no vision changes.

In general, legal blindness due to facial paralysis is absolutely possible but uncommon. Based on this PDF from Mobius Syndrome Foundation, most people with MS won't reach legal blindness (and MS is, if I had to guess, the type of facial paralysis with the highest % of that). Of course, it's important to take into account that this statistic was made in the US and it can look very differently for people in other parts of the world who might have much less access to healthcare.

Thanks for the ask!:-)

mod Sasza

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Hello, hello!

Welcome, make yourself comfortable, here are some cakes, tea and hot chocolate, and enjoy your stay. In this little pocket dimension of a blog, you will mostly find posts about our Celestial Jesters and other FNAF content, along with space-themed aesthetic, writing, some silly whimsical quotes, comfy vibes and similar.

I shall be tagging my own writing posts under "jester's privilege chronicles" (these are especially for my longer works) and "amary's chronicles" (these are especially for my shorter little scenes), to make it easier to navigate or find them. For answered asks the tags are "amary answers" and "amary speaks", to find them easily in case they get buried in reblogs. As of recent, I made the tag "amary's art" for my doodles, although I am still a beginner.

Under the cut are links to my AO3 fics and summaries of the current ones, if you are interested!

Have a lovely day and enjoy your stay!

Jester's Privilege Chronicles series:

Sound the Bells: You are a mermaid in charge of the daunting task of managing the sea and your court consists of playful twin Leviathans and an uncooperative Kraken. You also have the disadvantage of being an utter disaster at this mermaid business and you live on land in human form, having the swimming skills of a rock.

Your sea monsters are not too thrilled with you living on land, so they love to cause shipwrecks and general mayhem to get your attention. You try to place a stop to this by having them spend a month with you in the town of Celestial Bay disguised as animatronics.

Sun is thrilled to explore human technology, Moon prowls the night threatening city council members into making better legal acts to protect the sea against pollution, and Eclipse's natural protective Kraken instincts are getting a tad bit out of hand and making him the friendly neighbourhood serial killer. He loves quick solutions to complex problems.

Officer Vanessa is the only one brave enough to keep knocking on your door for some explanations. She is also in charge of a very confused police unit that really needs to get some sleep.

Extended Contract: You are a witch that fell for the oldest trick in the book by giving your name to the mischievous Fae princes of the Celestial Court. Such an inconvenience on what was supposed to be a typical office night. You are honestly not having it. They, however, do seem quite happy about having you. You decide to make a deal with the Fae King to regain your freedom. The only thing that is functional in the whole situation is your phone signal in the Fae Kingdom.

Tip the Scales: You are a charismatic defense lawyer in a constant competition with two ruthless prosecutors that do not understand your ideals about criminals deserving a second chance. You are also housemates with a certain bitter and retired judge, who has a habit of operating at night as a cloaked figure known as the Judge of the Damned, serving justice as he deems fit according to his own moral ideals. In order to solve his frequent habit of going after your clients, you two had established a game of Tip the Scales to keep a balance of which person deserves redemption and who is condemned to damnation. Things get complicated when an old friend gets wrongfully accused. You do all in your power to convince your prosecutor rivals to secretly cooperate with you and help clear his name before you lose the game.

Our Guest: You arrive at a sinister and luxurious castle with the innocent intention of checking why its mysterious residents haven't been paying any taxes or utilities for the past several centuries. Very useful excuse for a vampire hunter to have when trying to do some good old infiltrating. The three vampire lords, however, fully intend to capture and seduce you, possibly give your pretty neck a bite or two, but all of that does get a bit complicated when you are being such a tease and constantly asking them about their financial books. Will they succeed in the task of making you theirs, dear Y/N? And are they onto your little schemes?

[wambsgansshoelaces]

Turmoil; Chapter 8

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: I need him biblically

let me know your thoughts x

Word Count: 3.289k

You got one lazy day. That was it before you had to throw yourself back into work. You and Roman both stand at your bathroom sink, his head tucked into the crook of your neck. You press a light kiss to his forehead, and surprisingly, he doesn’t run off after the fact. He winces, but he stays.

“Connor’s bank statements should be handed to you when you walk in today,” he murmurs.

“You’re a godsend.”

“I know, right?” He takes you by the chin and presses an obnoxiously sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Kendall and I are looking into that politician thing today. Maybe we can go out to dinner today?”

“You’d better show up today,” you warn. He playfully pinches your hip.

“I promise.” He moves away, pulling his shirt off and disappearing into the closet. “If I don’t, put a bullet through my head.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “Rome?”

“Mm.”

“What’re you gonna do with that… thing with Marcia?”

“We wait until we can use it,” he calls back. “Thank god it’s on your phone and not mine.” You sigh. You both manage to get dressed and feed yourselves breakfast, and Roman hails you a cab and sees you off with a hesitant kiss to your lips.

You steel yourself as you stare up at the building containing your firm. You love your job- just not what you were doing with it now.

Before entering your office, you subtly slip a jewelry box onto your assistant’s desk. You’d gotten her a necklace and set of earrings while abroad as a thank-you for fighting Connor off with a stick. Roman was right, too. You give her the box and she slides you a manila file with a grin on her face, mouthing ‘thank you’.

You settle into your desk chair, leafing through the papers. It’s normal the first ten years, but starting another ten, his spending became erratic, and lo and behold, he stopped paying his taxes. You wonder how Connor has made it this far in life without getting killed by someone.

You can piece together the puzzle pretty easily. Connor thinks he’s too high and mighty to be taxed, he stopped paying them, the interest racked up an outrageous amount, and now he’s committing fraud to get money to pay everything off.

You take a moment to think.

If Logan bailed Connor out before, would he do it again?

You think you want to find out.

You could catch Logan with his pants down. You were closer to a solution to get him out of your- and Roman, and Kendall, and Shiv’s -life. You were lucky that he was the vote that would’ve won him the vote of no confidence- if he’d legally won, he would’ve dropped the guillotine on you and ousted the fact that you’d kept Connor innocent from fraud. Since he hadn’t, and he’d stayed, if he’d tried ruining your image, he’d look like a child throwing a tantrum.

Satisfied with your mental acrobatics, you toss the file into a lockable compartment of your desk. While you wanted nothing more than to serve Connor right that second, you knew taking him and Logan down at the same time would be much more satisfying. So you decide you’ll wait.

You make a small list on a post-it note of what you have so far. Kendall and Roman had begun to investigate Logan’s suspicious activity around the failed politician, Greg and Roman had gotten you the finances, you’d found more than one hard piece of evidence that Connor was lying on the suit. You also have the issue with Marcia, which you don’t really want to think about. Ever.

If you wait long enough, you think you’ll be able to find your way out of this mess.

Having gotten yourself into a good mood, you decide to pick up some pro-bono cases from junior associates in the bullpen to lighten their load. You spend the rest of your day doing paperwork, but you don’t mind.

You’re in your office for so long you eventually need to flick on your desk lamp. You’re not feeling as tired as you usually would at this point, and you’re thankful for it. When your phone rings, and you find Roman on the other end, you pick it up with a smile.

“Asshole. Why do you work so late?”

“Aw, I miss you too, Roman.” You jot something down in the margins of one of your documents. “Besides, it’s only dark out because it’s winter.”

“Are you almost done? I made a reservation for six.”

You glance over at your watch, sitting on the inside of your wrist. Five-thirty.

“Can you come get me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, we have stuff to talk about. Involving my big, happy, functional family.”

“We do,” you muse. “I thought this was a date.”

“It is, swear. I just have to tell you because I’m a good fiance.”

You laugh. “Whatever you say. Call when you’re here.”

“I’m already outside, bitch.”

“You’re so romantic.”

You clean up in your office, bid your assistant goodbye(even though you’d given her permission to leave ages ago), and find him parked in front of the complex.

“You drive? How many people have you hit?” you ask, climbing into the passenger seat. He rolls his eyes at you, waiting until you buckle your seat belt to pull away.

“Only two old ladies and their dog that looked like Kendall.”

You snort. “How was work?”

“Glorious. Felt like a superhero fucking shitting on my dad like that.”

“Go on.”

”We did some digging, found a few paper trails. I didn’t know the old man was stupid. Kendall thinks we’re on track to find people that have the ability to testimony.”

“If you even have an inkling that someone could, send them to me. Like immediately. We can’t have them blab to the wrong people. I can legally keep them safe from Logan if they disclose to the firm.”

“You’re the boss.” He honks at the car that missed the green light in front of you. “Fucking dick.”

“Of course you have road rage.”

“I don’t have road rage.”

You sit in comfortable silence the rest of the way, interrupted by the occasional expletive from Roman at bad drivers. He’s surprisingly level-headed behind the wheel, keeping calm regardless of the ‘idiots around him’.

At the restaurant, you take the inside of his elbow as you walk. He flexes his arm, trying to suppress a grin, setting his hand on his stomach. You can tell, despite his slowly dissipating disdain for your physical affection towards him, he fucking loved showing you off in public.

He’d warm up to you eventually. You didn’t want to force him into anything you didn’t want, so most of the time, you let him initiate physical contact. And even though neither of you ever spoke about it, you got the feeling that he appreciated it immensely.

You both sit in a secluded corner of the restaurant, and his legs press up against yours from his seat across from you.

“You should tell me more about yourself,” you begin, setting your head in your hands, balancing your elbows on the table.

“What is there to say?” Roman mirrors your pose.

“I dunno. What’s your favorite color, Romulus?”

“Green. The color of money. Next.”

“Oh, that’s so bullshit.” You lean back, laughing. He pushes off his elbows, instead crossing his arms over his chest. “Your favorite show?”

“I don’t watch television, Miss Attorney-at-Law. Eat, sleep, corporate fucking, repeat.”

“That’s kind of vile.” You take a sip of the water at your hand. “We should watch garbage reality TV together. You’d enjoy it.”

“Why watch on a screen when it’s my real life?”

“You boring piece of shit.”

Roman takes your hand from across the table, hooking your fingers together. “That I am.”

“What about movies? Or are you allergic to rainbows, fun, and joy?”

“Oh no, my throat’s itching,” he says sarcastically, pouting. “I don’t have time for any of that. And when I do, it feels… weird. I never was into movies or TV shows or video games when I was younger. I was always on eggshells with Dad, so…”

You give his hand an encouraging squeeze. “So… we can do all of that stuff together after we give ourselves a week off of work.”

“We just got back from Norway…”

“Roman. You’re really saying you’re not going to give yourself a week off for shits and gigs?”

He has trouble pushing down his smile. “Of course I will. You know me so well already.”

“We should do it after we serve your dad the papers. So he has to wait even longer to go to court.”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re evil. So perfect for me.”

You both laugh.

You both begin your meals, Roman surprisingly attentive the entire time. You both ask questions, answer them, and giggle like schoolchildren.

By the end of it, his chair is pulled all the way around the table, sitting next to yours as he tries to explain a business venture.

“So if pervs won’t disappear completely,” he says, gesturing with his hands, dead serious, “we appeal to the ones who like feet. Because who’s going to fucking know they’re your feet if they one, haven’t bought them, and two, inspect your toes in real life?”

You can’t help the ugly laugh that rips from your stomach. “Why have you thought about this in so much depth?”

“It’s infallible.”

”I didn’t know you knew what that word meant.”

He taps the side of his temple. “I’m learning. From you, specifically. Kendall’s fucking dumb.”

Back at home, Roman’s reclined into you, his head set lopsidedly on your shoulder. He scrolls through his phone absentmindedly, glancing up at you every so often, as if making sure you’re still there. You catch his eyes, and you both smile at each other.

Without thinking, you give him a peck on the lips. He lets you.

“It was hard,” he says quietly. “But it’s getting easier.”

“And so goes life.” You let your head rest on top of his. “I think you’re doing great.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “Thanks.”

He hums, satisfied, when your nails begin raking through his hair. You stay like that, for a long while. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing regulating as time passes. You think he’s asleep when his phone rings, loud and obnoxious.

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill whoever’s calling,” he mutters, shifting so that his head is in your lap. You see Connor’s name. “I’m putting him on speaker.”

He does, and starts the conversation with, “What is it, asshole?”

“Hey, Rome. I know it’s a little late, but your fiance hasn’t been returning my calls. Or texts.”

“She thinks you’re ugly. Not interested. Stop trying.”

“Roman.”

“Just being honest.”

“Well, be serious. We need to hurry things along. I’m starting to go into the red.”

“What the fuck are you buying? Oh, wait, your gir-”

“Shut the fuck up. That douchebag of an accountant. He’s doing some shady shit, I know it.”

“Or, shocker, you need to stop spending money. Batshit crazy idea, man.”

“You’re giving me financial advice? Remember when you spend twenty grand on a watch in high school and then lost it the day of?”

“At least I had the twenty thousand to spend.”

You have to suppress a laugh.

“This isn’t what I called for. Just forward the word, okay? I don’t want Willa to have to miss anything important at the theater.”

”What’s that have to do with my girl?”

“She can speed up proceedings.”

Roman looks up at you, and you shrug. You could, but you definitely wouldn’t. Not for Connor. “Yeah, come back later.”

“Nice talking to you, too.”

☾𖤓

The next time you’re at Waystar, it’s a ‘family’ meeting in Kendall’s office. You sit on the couch, Shiv sunken into the seat next to you.

“I say you take that nasty-ass video straight to Marcia and get the good shit from her,” Shiv says. “No beating around the bush. Surely she’ll spill.”

“You’re certainly free to do that. I can’t keep it on my phone anymore- I’m prone to vomiting,” you respond.

“Anyone know about that prick from the party? The one balding in all the weird spots?” Roman asks, leaning against the wall.

“What, Peirce? That’s the dick that was sucking the life out of Dad’s bank account. He was taking money pretending to be paying taxes.”

You turn and glance at Roman. “He’s actually not that stupid, is he?” you ask incredulously.

“I feel like we’re saying that a lot,” he mutters back. “You know that that guy is Con’s accountant now? And he has literally no money left?”

“He’s never been the brightest,” Shiv says without hesitation. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“How can he miss that, though?” Kendall asks, dragging a hand over his face.

“Desperate times,” Roman supplies.

“His firm name’s Thompson & Thompson, right?” you ask.

“Fucking banger name,” Shiv says. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“They have a consultation with me tomorrow. I don’t think it’s anything good, given Connor’s recent history.”

“Lock them out,” is all Roman says.

“This is all such a headache,” Kendall mutters. “Has anyone heard from Dad recently?”

“Surprisingly, no. He’s been suspiciously quiet,” Shiv replies. “You think he’s in the hospital again?"

“Wouldn’t he say something?” you ask.

“I guess not,” Shiv says. “Makes him look weak. Someone will notice, anyway. We’re in the States, we’ll know where he is soon enough.”

“He’s scheming,” Kendall states. “He’s trying to find a loophole back into the company.”

“He wishes,” you retort. “Vote of no confidence. Can’t come back on without making a big deal about it.”

“What if he wants that? He could use it to distract us,” Shiv suggests.

“But from what?” Kendall asks, staring at his feet, boring a hole through the floor.

“You’re overthinking it,” Roman clarifies. “What does he have that he can do right now?”

“God, I don’t even want to know.” You push yourself to your feet. “I’d better head out.”

Kendall grunts a goodbye, Shiv gives you a hug. Roman walks you, and as soon as you turn the corner and nobody’s around, he takes your hand in his.

“Is this what having a crush feels like?” he asks as you wait for the elevator.

“What do you mean?”

“I never stop thinking about you. I get all giddy talking to you- just looking at you. I’m always trying to make you laugh, smile. And look at your fucking face. I don’t need to keep telling you how fucking pretty you are.”

“Hm, maybe you do,” you say, grinning.

“But really.” He lets go of your hand in the elevator, instead winding an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Is this how normal people feel? All… sappy and shit?”

“I guess. I don’t think I can be considered normal, either.”

“Why not?”

“I’m into you, aren’t I?”

“Asshole. I take back what I said. You’re repulsive,” he says, lips on your jaw. When you’re in the lobby, he tells you, “Call me when you’re done,” and leaves you with a squeeze of your shoulder.

At your firm, you give your assistant a wave, gather some files, and head to a conference room. Peirce is there, waiting for you.

“Mr. Thompson,” you say politely, ignoring his outstretched hand. You wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole. “Please tell me tax fraud isn’t why you asked to see me and refused to disclose why over the phone.” You both take your seats.

“I’m afraid it is. Rather, not that I committed it, because I wouldn’t be here if I did.” He takes his handkerchief and wipes away a bit of sweat from his chin. He’s a horrible liar. “Rather, some accusations that are being made. I was wondering if anything could be done. And since you’re already handling my client…”

You have to refrain from rolling your eyes at him. “If you can prove it, we can sue for defamation. That’s really it.”

Peirce straightens. “I can prove it, actually. Tax returns, receipts.”

While you don’t take cases you don’t want to(Peirce makes you want to vomit), you know that this could lead to something useful. So you tell him, “Have them faxed by tomorrow,” and he’s on his feet, thanking you profusely as you push past him.

To your surprise, however, he follows you to your office. “Can I help you?” you ask, miffed.

“I just, ah, thought that since I was here, I’d check on how my client’s suit was going.”

“It’s going,” is all you say back. “Last time I checked, I’m the J.D. between the two of us. I can handle my business like a big girl, while it disappoints me to say that you can’t do the same.” You gesture in the direction of the exit. “If you would.”

“Are you sure I can’t just-”

“Quite sure.”

“But-”

“But nothing. Take no for an answer and go before I have you removed.”

Dismayed, Peirce shuffles off.

“And tell Connor to get off my fucking ass,” you say under your breath, heading into your office. You drop your notepad, pickingup your cell and dialing Roman.

He picks up on the first ring. “What’d the weasel do?”

“Was creepy. He said he’s being accused of tax fraud and that he can prove it.”

He scoffs. “He’s going to send you a ‘get out of jail free’ card from a Monopoly game. Does he really expect anybody to buy it?”

“If he’s still in business, people have before.”

He sighs on the other end. “Come home.”

“I have some paperwork to do. Then I’ll hail a cab or something.”

“Boo fucking hoo. I want to see you.”

“You saw me an hour ago.”

“I want to see you again.” Roman pauses. “Pretty please?”

“You can wait another hour. I believe in you.”

“Aw, come on. I’m warming up to you and everything.”

You laugh. “I appreciate that, Rome,” you say sincerely. “But-”

“I’ll do your laundry for a month if you just bring the paperwork home.”

You take a moment to consider it. “You know how to work a laundry machine?”

“I’m going to murder you. Come home so I can stab you.”

☾𖤓

The minute you’re home, he pulls you into bed with him and curls up against you.

“You okay?” you murmur.

“Peachy,” he says into your shoulder. “Shiv talked to Marcia. It worked.”

“At least that bullshit was worth something.” You shudder. “Why are you going to bed so early?” He’s dressed entirely in pajamas, his shirt a soft cotton that clings to every muscle in just the right way.

“Early day. Stockholder drama.”

“I thought Kendall did that.”

“He does. I’m going because I know they’re going to fight.” You feel him smile into your skin. “Hey, Y/N?”

“Mm?”

“Never mind. I’m not so good with words.”

Roman’s hand finds your chin, bringing your mouth to his. When your lips meet, his hand slips up your jaw and buries in your hair. You kiss back fervently, and he matches your vigor. He kisses you like he needs your taste to breathe.

Your hand finds the fabric of his shirt and glides across the panels of his chest, and he groans into your mouth. You feel the soft, oddly satisfying scrape of his stubble against your face. He pulls away only to dot kisses on the corners of your mouth, then unevenly again on your lips.

“I think what I meant was good night,” he says cheekily.

“Jackass,” you murmur giddily into his lips. “Fuck you, Roman.”

[diabolus1exmachina]

BMW M1 Turbo (the extraordinary case of the BMW M1 with 1000 hp)

Ignore the livery. Or don’t ignore it. Like with every other Jägermeister racing car, it might be hard to actually walk past this orange beast without giving the standout paint job at least one glance. It was designed to attract attention, just how Günter Mast — the man that gave his OK to race cars with the famous stag on the bonnet — intended. The truth of the matter is, however, that this particular car’s convoluted history is as complicated as the story of the BMW M1 itself. Therefore this car is not what it seems to be, as the orange Jägermeister livery stems from the imagination of the man that rebuilt the car, the legendary M1 whisperer Fritz Wagner. And if you ask anyone at Jägermeister headquarters about the car, they will potentially reply with a polite letter from their legal department. To paraphrase Samuel Beckett: there’s nothing funnier than tragedy. And so, the story of the BMW M1 could be perceived as one of the automotive world’s funniest. The car was originally designed with the ambition to create the greatest, mid-engined racing car of all time. One that would beat Porsche’s dominating 935 in the all-important Group 5. A masterpiece made of speed and German reliability which, in reality, became a car that had to be reverse engineered to be sold for the road. All because of changes in racing rules and homologation, which stipulated how many cars had to be produced before a particular model was allowed to hit the track. The production number of 400 cars — which seems so minuscule by today’s standards — turned out to be the first problem on a long list of unfolding disasters.

In essence, the life of this beautiful, light, well-made machine that had been designed by Giorgetto Giugiaro, who reworked Paul Bracq’s original prototype, was plagued by bad luck and bad decisions. The fact that Lamborghini — who were supposed to produce it at their factory — went bust because of copyright fraud and embezzlement of funds didn’t help. However, it was the rushed solution to disperse production all over Europe that was the final nail in the coffin. Marchese built the car's tube frame, TIR molded the fiberglass, Italdesign mated the two and installed the interior, then the M1 was shipped from Italy to Stuttgart, where Baur would in­stall the BMW hardware, after which in Munich BMW Motor­sports would do the final touches and quality control. It made the M1 almost a quarter more expensive than any equivalent Ferrari or Lambo sold at the time. Case closed.

British generals in the second world war would often joke that Germans were not very good when it came to Plan B. This might be true. In the end, even if BMW’s head of Motorsport Jochen Neerpasch, the brilliant man that he is, thought of a way to market the M1 with the Procar series, in which F1 drivers like Niki Lauda, Clay Regazzoni, and Nelson Piquet would race the cars against privateers, as a prelude to the weekend's Formula 1 race, too few examples were made for the car to ever officially leave Group 4 as was originally intended. Later on, those teams who managed to finally race in Group 5, years after BMW abandoned the programme in order to enter to F1, found the M1 simply uncompetitive. Even the twin-turbocharged models built by Schnitzer, which developed 800 hp and more from their straight six engines, were plagued by problems. his finally brings us to this particular, rather unusual example. It was allegedly built for the famous Walter Brun racing team, who later on won the Group C World Championship with a Jägermeister-liveried Porsche 956. Brun’s friendship with Paul Rosche, the man who turbocharged the BMW 2002, gave rise to the idea of installing the M88 turbo engine originally planned for the March Group-5 car into a modified M1 Procar chassis wrapped into Group 5 bodywork. However, the car was never raced. Why? Even at BMW no one knows. Particularly good news considering that back in the day, when this 1090 kg machine was put on a dyno, it put out 1000 hp and 930 NM of Torque. A reading obtained just before the machine broke while the car apparently still wanted to keep going. Now in the hands of a new owner who intends to race it regularly, it will have plenty of opportunity to shine. And so a new chapter unfolds…

[practice42]

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[baeddelilluminati]

Do afabs have power over amabs on the agab axis? If so, this implies that cis women dominate cis men in agab-based social dynamics

dont think anyone other than terfs or others who are stuck in the same narrow conception of gendered dynamics think this is a coherent axis. like. theres so much to the medico-legal designation of gender and that interpolations following mechanisms of negative reflections of gendered binaries, plus histories before the present medico-legal birth certification that brings a long linage of complicated interrelations.

you're asking the wrong questions because theyre, to whats pretty unequivocally to me, steeped in so much gender hegemony thats just using AGAB terminology in place of more archaic terms as a way to either find some easy way through, around (out?) of the trouble you and i are in here.

with regards to the assumption that followed your leading rhetorical question, cis white women oppress black cis men in many cases, cis women oppress trans women in many cases, wealthy women oppress working women and men alike - while this doesn't have to even imply the absurd notion of a "misandry" just rather that gendered oppression cannot be separated from many other axis

cis and trans are axis that you wish to erase for your own simple minded worldview.

examples like the last point in ur anon that takes an ahistoric cis/het normative idealist situation as the crux from which to base that statement eclipses so many things even on idealist terms,

but in an historicised context, one that takes note of the role of colonialism (e.g very targeted transfemicide of indigenous populations), racism, xenophobia, global supremacy of western taxonomic models, imperialism, capitaist atomisation of family, specific materialised intersex babies and, to whom agency is over ascribed (when they are disempowered) vs who it is under ascribed (when they are empowered)... we just...

there is no way the reductive identity politics of the last 20+ years (not mentioning before then) is going to allow us to champion a world where we make impossible the violence that not just transfeminime people face but everyone else, by the very demands of nation states and capitalists to have homogeneous citizens, families, workers and underclasses to shift the harsher bunts of crisis to (like surplus population control/repression).

we are just one piece of a wider puzzle of LGBT+ solidarity through developing political thought. peoples opposition is expected, but 101 (assumedly bad faith?) asks like this allow for introspection for those of us invested in finding solutions for this conundrum where we seek to not do another version of what white usamerican feminists did to black women (not that its stopped mind you)

like the question is why this anon is backwards?

the implied false equivalence that transfeminine subjects are in the patriarchal club of male society because cis men and transfeminine subjects share one small moment after birth that some clinician saw a protrusion between their legs and then ticked a box on a governmental document completely and utterly undermines the lifetime of attempts to correct behavior and reinforce 'sex' dimorphism (that doesn't exist past unscientific generalisations), which has more time and particularities that doesn't just implicate fathers, but mothers etc etc in the social reification of gender.

colors put on them, hobbies theyre encouraged or discouraged, control over childrens bodies to drill into them their "destined" place in the reproduction and reinterpretation of norms that maintain the social order of this vastly violent and anti community world - its all a very large process that (c)AGAB alone can't manage alone nor can crude reductive ideas of a socialisation binary!

anon, this wasnt for you, but thank you for giving me something to chew on while i was vibing really hard with my cadre of shamanic priestesses.

[this was the draft we lost and now found]

[gatheringbones]

[“The fact remains that the most effective long-term solutions to protecting and empowering victims of abuse are policy changes that would grant victims reliable access to health care, housing, livable income, paid sick leave, child care, and safety from criminalization. Yet bureaucratic impediments on the federal level, lack of leadership from Democrats as a serious “opposition party” against Republicans, and general inaction have stalled meaningful, nationwide, progressive economic legislation for decades. As a result, too many victims are forced to stay in dangerous, traumatizing relationships solely for economic reasons, in a country where poverty can be a death sentence, and those who experience poverty are disproportionately policed for “survival crimes”—what we call being punished by the state for its own failure to invest in community resources, and its reliance on commodifying and profiting off incarcerating the most vulnerable.

Despite how frequently cases of rape and domestic abuse are invoked to justify policing and prisons, women who are victims of abuse face more severe punishment for “enabling” child abuse, pregnancy loss, or even surviving abuse, broadly, than their abusers do. The many documented cases of this include Marshae Jones, a Black woman in Alabama who was jailed for fetal homicide in 2019 after miscarrying from being shot in the stomach. Sex workers who report being victimized are disbelieved and often criminalized by police officers themselves (a 2007 study found 44 percent of police officers said they were unlikely to believe a report of rape from a sex worker), while the rapes and sexual violence cases of Black and Indigenous women and girls are chronically ignored by police departments and media.

Victims of abuse with the least resources and social capital are more likely to face punishment than anything else when they seek help from authorities, rendering it more likely they would seek criminalized means to protect or provide for themselves. In too many documented cases that disproportionately implicate people of color, pregnant people are criminally charged for ostensibly endangering fetuses—for example, due to substance use struggles—and even prior to the overturning of Roe, for self-managed abortions. Many pregnant people have faced charges or incarceration for miscarriage or stillbirth, and even for harms inflicted on them while they were pregnant, like Marshae Jones.

This is in part because about forty states have feticide laws that were written with the intention of protecting pregnant people from domestic violence. It’s an important crisis to address, given how high homicide rates targeting pregnant people are. Yet all too often, feticide laws are co-opted and misused by anti-abortion activists and prosecutors to criminally charge pregnant people who lose their pregnancies. Misuse of fetal homicide laws has contributed to the nearly 1,300 criminal charges for pregnancy loss doled out between 2006 and 2020 alone—a number that’s tripled from 1973 to 2005, according to research from Pregnancy Justice. Let’s not forget that it’s police officers who are the primary enforcers of abortion bans, a role they’ve enthusiastically stepped into: In February 2022 the city of Louisville paid a police officer $75,000 in settlement fees almost a year after the officer was suspended for protesting outside a local abortion clinic while armed and in uniform. After being suspended with pay for almost half a year in 2021, the officer sued the city for supposedly violating his constitutional rights while off-duty and discriminating against him for his “pro-life” views. The incident is part of a long history of police officers either ignoring or enabling violent anti-abortion protesters at clinics, and apparently even joining protesters themselves.

Fetal homicide laws are just one example of legislation that accords unborn fetuses with legal personhood rights, resulting in extensive legal risks for pregnant people, and particularly those who experience abuse. Dana Sussman, deputy executive director of Pregnancy Justice, told me in 2022 that there’s “simply no way to grant fetuses ‘personhood rights’ without subjugating the rights of pregnant people by creating a false tension between the rights of the fetus and the rights of a pregnant person.” When a pregnant person’s “rights are secondary to the fetus, or at odds with the fetus, that lends to an environment in which violence—whether it’s state violence like imprisonment, or interpersonal violence—can be committed against pregnant people with far less accountability.”]

kylie cheung, from survivor injustice: state-sanctioned abuse, domestic violence, and the fight for bodily autonomy, 2023

[bitchsister]

“I’m sorry.” Curt whispered, leaning over the middle console and pressing kisses to Bucky’s bicep and shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said — I — I was havin’ an outburst.”

Those happened often.

Curt was simply a hothead, too used to acting out on his first instinct, which was always anger.

Gale was helping him work through this, but wasn’t always around to be the mediator.

Hi!!! I was wondering if you’d ever elaborate on this in a fic, sort of like how Bucky and Gale deal with Curt’s anger outbursts. This section of this fic has stuck with me since it was posted <3

Curtis was a sugary sweet little gumdrop, by the looks of him — although he’d caused Ruthie and his father Carmen all kinds of worry, it was always muddled over with the sweet batting of his thick black lashes and a promise not to bust up any more neighborhood kids.

🚩: general kinda toxic domestic fuckery.

“They called me runt!” He’d protest, Ruthie bending to press kisses to her son’s forehead as she sighed. “I ain’t allowed to stand up or myself?”

Well, he had a point.

And he always won.

Eventually, he was left alone but it had done nothing for the anger he felt deep in his chest; the anger he’d let out unabashedly — the anger he never learned to manage.

Gale would never admit aloud that he liked sitting in the backseat because watching the two of them was like the clinical case studies he did back at school full of hypotheticals and imaginary clients whereas Curt and Bucky were so readily tangible, but so hard to understand at times.

“This is why I told you to check it, John.” Curt hardly ever used Bucky’s legal name when addressing him — if he did, though, Gale had always taken it as his cue to open the notes app on his phone where he kept diligent catalogs of each outburst he’d witnessed and if he thought the severity of them could be justified, and if valid points were ever made with true intentions of finding a solution to the predicament, which was hardly ever the case.

“Honey, I checked it.” Bucky was staring at his phone, baffled. He’d made their dinner reservation for the wrong date. An entire month from then. “It’s gotta be a glitch, or something.”

“It don’t work like that.” Curt huffed, turning his head to stare out at the dreary rain that sprinkled over the sidewalk, New Yorkers hurrying faster than usual to escape the impending downpour. “I’ve been excited about this for three months.” Gale made note of Curt’s posture, ridged and stiff. In defense mode.

“You think we haven’t?” Bucky motioned at Gale who quickly turned his gaze back down to his phone, the notes he was taking disguised as an important email, or perhaps a text to his mother. “I wouldn’t have done this on purpose, Curt.”

“I’d rather ya did!” Curt turned to him in his seat, his brows furrowed. “You done this three times now. Three!” He held three fingers in his face, nostrils flared with annoyance. “And one of ‘em was my birthday!”

Gale thankfully hadn’t been in town for that one, somewhere on a beach in Honolulu for his sister’s wedding; if he tried hard enough, though, he probably could have heard Curt’s cursing from across the globe.

“And I’m fucking sorry!” Bucky had resorted to shouting back, his sulked posture ridged like Curt’s was in that moment. “Next time you can make the fucking reservations — you’re being a fucking bitch.”

Curt bucked at him, ironically enough, lip snarled and Gale flinched. He moved like a cobra, striking fast and deadly. “You don’t know the bitch I can fuckin’ be,” his voice was low and taunting. “Say the word. Say the fuckin’ word, John. I’ll fuck you up ju—“

“Alright, alright.” Gale drew on.

Alright, alriiiight.

He pressed his hand into Curt’s chest, and then Bucky’s to gently pry them apart. “That’s enough.”

Usually, Gale would let this play out but he’d noticed one very peculiar detail once all the dust settled.

Curt was always in hysterics. Ten minutes, sometimes even an hour would go by and realization would hit. Embarrassment, shame, crippling guilt for the things he said or what he’d thrown at Bucky in a fit of rage; he’d never hit him, never really wanted to.

He’d spent his entire life feeling small and inadequate, which had caused him to feel so much anger that had subsequently manifested physically once he was old enough to throw a decent left hook.

Curt never wanted to hurt Bucky, but Bucky had made Curt feel small in ways that brought him back into sudden defense mode.

Gale knew he needed to check this before Curt let himself get any farther, leading to more regret later. “Take a breath, both of you.”

He’s being-

This ain’t-

They began to rattle over each other and Gale shoved their chests further apart. “Absolutely not.” His tone became firm. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

Bucky shook his head with a huff and Curt tried brushing Gale’s hand away from his chest, his own arms eventually tightly crossed over his sternum.

“Breathe in.”

He did it before them, holding his breath until both Curt and Bucky gave in and filled their lungs with a steadying breath of oxygen.

“Out.”

Gale kept going, brows risen to encourage them both whilst his hands slowly pulled away from their chests and down to their forearms instead, a thumb rubbing over Curt’s skin to soothe him and the opposite hands index finger hooking onto Bucky’s cuffed sleeve.

“Do you want to count, Curt?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Gale nodded slowly, the city going on, business as usual around them. The sound of rolling thunder, blaring sirens, horns honking in traffic. “Let’s talk about this, then.” His fingers grazed over Bucky’s knuckles. “Let’s start with I feel, like last time —“ Gales gaze turned to Curt, and then Bucky. “You start, Johnny.”

Rain pitter patting over the windows was the only sound for about a minute or two.

“I feel that I’m being yelled at over something that was an accident. That makes me feel shitty.” Bucky looked at Gale, and then to Curt. “I feel maybe I shouldn’t be responsible anymore for making the reservations, since my track record is given proof.”

Curt huffed an annoyed laugh out of his nose, shaking his head.

“Am I supposed to make my own fuckin’ birthday dinner plans, then?”

Gale didn’t pay attention.

Curt’s type of bickering fed off of attention paid to it, eating away at patience until there was none left.

“That’s good.” Gale whispered in John’s ear, pressing a chaste kiss below his earlobe. “Very nice, Johnny.” He felt Bucky lean into him, some semblance of comfort in such a tense moment. “What about you, Curt? Tell us how you feel.”

Curt straightened his back, arms tighter against his chest as he ground his jaw. “I feel frustrated.” He nodded, blinking slowly. “I feel I ain’t listened to.” This, Gale realized had stemmed even farther back to the very beginning of everything.

The poor bunny caught in the bear trap, little enough to wiggle around inside of it but caught indefinitely nonetheless.

“A little more.” Gale encouraged, reaching up to push Curt’s hair away from his eyes. “What in this moment makes you feel those things?”

Curt took another deep breath without being asked.

And then another.

That question itself was almost enough to set him off again, but he reigned in. Settled his heart, his breath, the way his cheeks turned red as he bit back another rebuttal.

“The fact —“ another breath. A readjustment. “I feel the fact that this is the third time it’s happened means I ain’t been listened to,” he stared directly ahead at a stoplight. Green, yellow, red. Green, yellow, red. “That my frustrations don’t matter.”

Gale nodded slowly, a hum in the back of his throat. “That’s right, hm?” A kiss to his cheek and one to his jaw. “Thank you for being open with us.” He positioned himself in the middle again, looking to both of them. “So, seems like inconsistency on both parts is wearing everybody thin. Does that sound right?”

Curt nodded quickly, Bucky taking his time with a bob of his head.

“And so, what if maybe we come to an agreement to make appointments or reservations together? The two of you. Or, if I’m around, me too.” The easiest fix and yet both Curt and Bucky hadn’t thought of it yet. “Sometimes, Curt, Bucky is forgetful.” He’d learned this over many, many years. “It’s why for as long as we’ve known each other I’ve told him he can’t have a pet.”

Curt had laughed at that.

Barely, but still.

“It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you, or that he isn’t listening.” It means he has crippling undiagnosed, unmedicated ADHD and OCD, but Gale vowed to keep that to himself unless Bucky asked. “Sometimes there’s just a lot of noise up there. Got lots of dates to remember, don’t you?”

Bucky nodded slowly.

Hearings, meetings, lunches with old professors or new clients. Visitations with clients in prisons, documents signed by this date or that one, finalized dockets by sundown — sometimes all of this in one day.

“Yeah,” Gales voice was soft, gentle. “That’s okay, isn’t it?” He held their jaws in either of his hands. “We’ll make new plans for next month, won’t we?”

In tandem they nodded.

“Okay.” Gale kissed Curt, so sweet and soft before he turned to Bucky and paid him the same attention, pulled further into him once they found a rhythm, soft and warm tongues slotting together, slow and unhurried.

Reluctantly he pulled away, hooking his fingers around their jaws once more to draw Bucky and Curt together. “Kiss it better.” He whispered, not a tactic he’d use for any of his other clients of course. “I’m fucking starving.”

[pastself]

17, 25 and 29 for the writer asks game!

29/ how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

Sometimes, super easy. Want for Nothing, Everything is Legal in Jersey and Bare just... arrived with their names! Other times, it is literally the last thing I decide. Called on the Devil & Groupie Love were so fucking hard to name.

25/ besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

I'm first and foremost a reader! In a previous online life, I managed to turn that hobby into a side hustle as a reviewer. (And subsequently learned that monetizing my hobbies was v v bad for me lol.)

17/ talk about your writing and editing process

*cracks knuckles* (mild spoilers for Want for Nothing below, as well as way more detail than asked for :)

This year, I finally diagnosed my writing style: I'm 95% a "methodological pantser". (Highly recommend this youtube series on writer types, icymi. Tell me what kind of plotter you are, ursa!)

In practice, this means I intermix writing and editing, and really struggle to know if something will work unless I actually write it. (For the record, after learning this about myself, I did *try* techniques for other writer types in order to test the diagnosis. It was ±okay but I clearly have a preference.)

When I start a story from scratch, I usually only have one situation/vibe in mind. I write outwards from that and see where it goes. Sometimes, this means I have to loop back and imagine background that got me to that moment. But other times, it is just a case of constantly building forwards. (And course correcting when I lead myself in the wrong direction.)

E.g. I started Want for Nothing writing the prologue and the first Peter/Steve and Pepper/Peter scenes -- and then worked backwards to get them to that moment. I repeated that back and forth a million times to establish the first 50%. Harry cheating, for instance, was only something I worked out once I wrote the Gwen intro -- and I only wrote that because I had just written a scene where Gwen called Tony a creep and where did she come from?

The struggle with writing this way is that I can get myself to a problem with no solution. For example, I knew the Ned/MJ/Tony games night would be the catalyst for breaking Peter out of his "hide from the world" stasis. But then what? I literally had to write out like 5 versions of that scene to find out.

Sometimes that "then what?" material can be reused in other contexts (as I recently did with a good 3k of scenes I just wrote for Bare), but it's often thrown away. Life would be much easier if I could "feel" what works via outline, but bon.

Where the "methodological" part of my pantsing comes in is in my endings and establishing plot beats. I write my outlines *after* I've written ±50% of a fic, to get an overview of where things stand, where things are missing, what needs to go. Once I realise "oh that scene is the midpoint", I can usually sketch out the ending without needing to write a million drafts of it. (That said, the last 25% is often when my brain stops having ideas :)

In terms of final edits: while I am a fast "write the bones" type, adding on the details takes me forever. I usually rework a section ~10 times, sometimes even tweaking plot points. My last step is to listen to the text read aloud ~2 times (using disability functionality) for final read through and to spot typos. 

thanks for indulging me with the asks! <33