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thesoftestirises · 2 years

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always, forever - one.

♡ pairing: steven x reader ♡ rating : 18+ (smut in part 2) ♡ word count : 6k ♡ warnings : age gap relationship (the characters are both well into adulthood, but it is a ten year difference). this shit rated t for THERAPY! steven’s gonna make you feel good about yourself whether or not you’re ready for it! ooc steven - rewritten to fit the au parameters. ♡ summary : Steven is a veteran journalist with a thirst to do the right thing. You’re his insecure cameraperson. The two of you fall in love slowly, then all at once. ♡ an : reupload, last one kept crashing. this is a two part miniseries.

“Newbie!”

You sighed, setting your pen back in your cup and turning around in your swivel chair. You’d been at this job for at least seven months, but you were still getting called ‘newbie’ by the editor in chief. You briefly wondered if he even knew your name. It wouldn’t surprise you if he didn’t.

Gold Standard Reporting, the organization you worked for, was known to push their employees harder than any other news company. Which was really saying something, because most journalists worked crazy hours. But GSR, being a newer company with fewer employees, had more tasks to do spread out over fewer people. No one had time to really fraternize, especially not the editor in chief, Ken Damiani. But you loved it there anyways. You were constantly surrounded by the best and the brightest, rubbing elbows with people who were working on groundbreaking investigative journalism. You often felt unqualified to even be there. Every day you half expected them to realize their mistake and fire you.

Ken Damiani was hunched forward in his chair when you arrived at his door, playing with a stress ball while speaking to the person across from him. His expression was serious, but there was a spark of excitement in his eyes and a quirk of a smile on his lips. It was the first time you’d ever seen him look pleased.

He turned to you as you entered and gestured for you to sit down. You took a seat next to the stranger, who you quickly realized was Steven Grant of CNN. Your eyes widened in surprise, which he seemed to notice. He smiled politely and reached out for a handshake, which you responded to after an awkward beat. Steven’s cordial smile melted into one of genuine amusement, barely stifling a chuckle at the expression on your face.

“Steven, this is Y/N. She was the most recent addition to the GSR family,” Ken said, gesturing to you while not making eye contact. Steven nodded to you in acknowledgement, studying your face as if he was trying to commit you to his memory. “If it behooves you, she can act as your videographer. Her technical skill is very good.”

You looked between the two men in front of you in confusion. Steven’s videographer? Surely he had a team of those back at CNN. Ones who were way better than you, like ones who had actually graduated with a degree in journalism from a good college. Also, ‘behooves’? Who still talked like that?

“That would be great, if Y/N wouldn’t mind?” Steven asked, turning the question over to you. Had you not been focused on other things, you probably would have taken more time to appreciate how he gave you the space to say no.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m just missing some context. I thought he worked at CNN? Is he allowed to do this?” You asked.

“I’ve actually parted ways with CNN,” Steven said, clasping his hands together and bringing them over his knee. “Our goals were no longer in alignment.”

“Really? What was the final straw?” You asked.

Steven pursed his lips, as if he was contemplating whether or not he wanted to answer.

“None of that now, Steven doesn’t have time to be questioned,” Ken said, waving a hand dismissively. “Now, what are you doing next week? Do you have any assignments?”

“Uh, a piece on the new cat cafe craze in Newport-”

“Okay, so nothing important. Listen, all the other videographers are busy, and Steven was just talking to me about a potential debut piece by him for GSR.”

Steven’s idea was to create a series on the growing divide between Americans. He called it ‘Hate thy Neighbor’. He wanted to create a space for people to tell their own stories and hopefully, bridge the gap after understanding one another. You thought the idea was overly ambitious, but if Steven was the one at the helm, you could see it becoming something worthwhile.

He invited you to get tea with him to further discuss the plans, which was surprisingly friendly of a guy who was so much more important than you it was comical. Steven had a Peabody award, for fuck’s sake.

You looked over at him while he casually stirred sugar into his drink. Beyond just being an incredible journalist with integrity, Steven was the most beautiful man to ever be in the news circuit. He was not only a trusted face with the most mesmerizing accent, but one of America’s favorite sex symbols. You were realizing now that the cameras at CNN had never been able to fully capture how blindingly gorgeous he was. His dark curls, his warm brown eyes, the way his button down struggled to conceal the size of his biceps. He was godly.

He raised an eyebrow when he noticed you staring. You immediately felt your face heat up and looked down, suddenly taking an unnatural interest in your own cup of tea. You considered breaking the awkward silence, but you weren’t really sure what to say. He took pity on you, and spoke up instead.

He cleared his throat and took his spoon out of his tea, laying it onto a napkin he had neatly folded on the table. “So, Y/N. Where are you from?”

“Um, Wisconsin, actually,” you said, picking at a loose thread on your cardigan.

“Did you like it there?”

“Not at all,” you said without hesitation.

Steven gave you that patented single eyebrow lift, which you were quickly realizing could get anyone to keep talking. It was probably why he was such a good journalist.

“I just don’t have great memories associated with that place. I’m much happier here. Big city, lots of people.”

“Were you from a small town?”

“I’d say it was more of a suburb. It was called Ives, about thirty minutes north of Madison.”

“Interesting. Do you go back often?”

“Once a year for the holiday season,” you said, crossing your legs underneath the table. “I try to avoid it, with the cost of airfare and all.”

“Not because of the negative memories?”

You blinked at him. “That’s part of the reason why I stay away, but it really is an expensive endeavor to go back. I’m not making a ton of money as a journalist, believe it or not.”

Steven chuckled lightly at that, the laughter lines around his eyes beginning to make an appearance. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?” You asked. “How often do you go home?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” Steven said, sincerity coloring his tone. He rested his arms on the table and leaned in. “My family is always busy. But I do miss them and I enjoy my time at home.”

You thought it was fascinating how he side stepped his family history and made himself sound so normal. The Grant family name was well known, even in America. They were heirs to a massive fortune from early investments into oil and telecommunications. Practically royalty. Steven probably could have gone his whole life without ever working, and yet he went ahead and hid his identity to apply to work as a correspondent for CNN. It took a few months before the cat was let out of the bag, but he had already proven he was there for his skill, not his surname.

“You seem nervous,” he said.

“I am, you’re a big deal,” you mumbled, taking a sip of your still piping hot drink just to avoid staring into his intimidating gaze. You could feel your tastebuds burning and your brain screaming in protest at the pain. How could you, a journalist, be so poor at communicating?

“We’re coworkers now,” he said earnestly. “We’re on the same level. If this all goes well, I suspect we’ll be partners for a while.”

“You haven’t seen my work before,” you said, chuckling self deprecatingly as you moved your mug around in a circle mindlessly, watching the liquid inside swirl. “You might hate it.”

“I have seen your work, actually. When I was doing my original research into GSR, I saw some pieces you’d worked on. I understand videography wasn’t what you joined GSR to do, but you have remarkable style. The way you do cuts in interviews is almost more appropriate for movies. You make any story seem riveting. That’s why I immediately accepted,” Steven said, pausing to check if his tea was still too hot to drink. “I suppose you could call me a fan.”

“What?” You gasped, then winced at your own unexpected outburst. You were supposed to internalize that.

Steven smiled, and reached across the table to place his hand over yours. God, you sure hoped he couldn’t feel how sweaty your palm was from the top of your hand. “I hope that by the end of our trial run that I can teach you to be a little more confident. You’re very talented.”

You tried to search for something appropriate to say after a compliment as heavy as that, but you fell blank. Honestly, you’d never felt so validated in your life, and Steven had known you for a grand total of maybe two hours. “I’m sincerely, really thankful. I hope I’m worthy of the praise.”

“You already are, Y/N. No need to thank me for stating the obvious.”

He removed his hand from yours, but the warmth remained.

“So, as we discussed earlier regarding the project...”

Today was day one of being on the road. Well, it was a trial run close to home, so technically you weren’t going far at all. You even got to go back to your apartment and sleep in your own bed after the day’s work had been done and Steven dropped you off at home. He had suggested that you two carpool once he picked up on the fact that you had a clunker for a vehicle and you were a little terrified to drive it. He had insisted in spite of your protests and scheduled a pickup time. You were too shy to tell him how much you appreciated it.

“Are they really going to do it? Protest in the National Mall?” You asked, flipping through the pages of notes Steven had made on the group you were interviewing.

“You don’t think they’ll go through with it?”

“I don’t think the overwhelmingly liberal residents of D.C. will let them.”

You were still nervous around Steven, but he was shockingly nonjudgmental and you found yourself rapidly warming up to him. At least now you could talk to him without shaking like a leaf the way you did the first time.

“They’ll get yelled at the whole way through the streets. It doesn’t seem very safe,” you said, shrugging.

“Perhaps they believe in their message, however foolish it may seem to us, and they’re willing to risk their safety in order to speak out,” he said, briefly taking his eyes off the road to look at you.

“I can’t understand it,” you said, shaking your head. You turned to face Steven’s side profile, tracing your gaze down the curve of his nose. “You think they’ll take offense? To us?”

“Maybe, maybe not. They did grant us an interview, though, so they can’t be too hostile. I often find that people are much less combative when faced with a camera.”

“I did mean to ask, by the way. Why are you dressed so casually?”

You had dressed as you normally did for interviews, pressed slacks and a blouse. Steven, on the other hand, had opted to go in dark wash jeans and a maroon shirt. He looked devastatingly handsome, like boyfriend material. But he always looked like that to you.

“I wanted to try and level with them as much as possible. Make them feel less like a spectacle,” he explained. “GSR is also very lax with their dress code and I wanted to take advantage of that. I was thinking of dyeing my hair something fun too, what do you think?”

You giggled when he turned to look at you, a bright smile lighting up his face at his own joke. “I think you would look good in pastel pink.”

“Hm, maybe that would be a stretch. Brown?”

You paused and considered it, considered him. Steven was ridiculously handsome, as you often mused to yourself. He had a classically handsome face, like a golden age Hollywood star. He could probably do anything to his appearance and still look like a dream. A few rays of sunlight passed through the window and filtered through his curls as he glanced over to his right to check for cars. The light turned the hair at the top of his head a warm brown, colored with red and orange. He looked over at you as you stared at him, giving you a questioning expression.

“Your hair is perfect as it is.”

He blinked, but quickly recovered. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.”

You cleared your throat and looked out at the road as you thought of things to say to fill the silence.

“Do you have your questions prepared?” You asked.

“No, I never write questions out,” he said as he flipped on his turn signal and switched lanes.

“What?”

“I don’t believe it’s a good method of interviewing. If you prepare questions, you’ll feel obligated to get them all answered. So instead, I just do enough research to hold a conversation and let the person I’m interviewing talk. It’s their story, after all. That’s what this is about, you know? Informing and bringing people together.”

“But what if they lie to you? Or try to take you off from the story that was meant to be told?”

“That’s where my problem with CNN stemmed from. They let people lie and take us off track from the real issues all the time for the sake of ratings. Now? You and I can simply not air the interview at all,” he said simply, glancing quickly at you before focusing back on the road. “Don’t worry, though. These people aren’t politicians, they won’t pull those kinds of tricks on us. And if they do, I believe the two of us can handle it.”

You appreciated that he kept referring to the two of you as “we”, constantly reminding you that this was a partner project to him. It wasn’t just Steven, nor was it Steven and friends. It was Steven and Y/N. You also appreciated the amount of faith he was putting into you, allowing you to make a lot of calls on your own regarding b roll footage. He said he trusted you to convey the story visually, and he was personally more concerned with his own ability to perform to standard.

“We’re almost there. Are you ready?” He asked as the two of you were halted at a stop light.

Your lips curved up and you nodded. “Yes.”

The first story had gone viral.

Steven’s patience during the interviewing process had made one interviewee change their mind mid interview, and the entire thing had been caught on camera. That clip alone was shared over ten thousand times on Twitter and reached 2.6 million views on YouTube in the first two days. The full hour long special had 800,000 hits by the end of the first week. You refreshed it every few hours to see the numbers go up. It was wholly unexpected and even Steven seemed surprised by the success.

The story itself was one that had been well put together, focusing on the people and the build up to the protest, and had some pretty excellent visuals, if you do say so yourself. Steven said it was everything he’d dreamed the first episode would be and more, and he was really excited when GSR greenlit the two of you for a series.

He’d asked you to come get dinner with him as a celebration for, well, everything. You’d tried to decline, but Steven seemed to understand the line between you not wanting to do something and you fearing that you were a burden. He ignored you and made reservations for two at a nice restaurant close to your workplace so that you two could head over directly after work.

The sky was dark gray and rain had been coming down in slow, fat drops. Not quite enough to call for an umbrella, yet Steven was using one anyways. You had run off ahead of him to try and catch as many drops in the palm of your hand as possible, a game you’d picked up during childhood and hadn’t dropped since.

“What are you doing?” He laughed, beckoning you to come back under the safety of his bright red umbrella.

“Having a good time, spoilsport,” you said. “Put that thing down, this is hardly even a drizzle!”

Steven rolled his eyes, but closed the umbrella and stuffed it into his work tote. He quickened his pace and caught up to you. “You seem like you’re in a good mood.”

“I love this kind of weather,” you said, looking up to the sky and wrinkling your nose as you caught a droplet on the tip of it. Steven snorted at the expression on your face as you attempted to look at the raindrop before wiping it off.

“Why’s this your favorite kind of weather?”

“I think the gray highlights other colors. Makes stuff really pop out, like grass or your red umbrella. It’s not torrential enough to be dangerous, but it’s just enough to feed the planets and animals. Plus, it’s still warm out,” you told him. Upon his silence, you glanced over at him and moved a little slower when you noticed he was just watching you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy that you’re happy,” he said, smiling at you.

You felt your own lips tugging up at his honest admission, and turned your head away to look at the city view in front of you. The lights and the sounds were something that you’d grown used to over time, but sometimes it was nice to stop and stare at the architecture and the people. It was so easy to get caught up in all the negativity of the world, but just looking at the creations of mankind made you feel a little more hopeful. It reminded you that people were capable of amazing amounts of progress. That you, as a species, had made it this far, and there was still more to go.

A man with a guitar was sitting on the ledge of a fountain, doing an acoustic rendition of Fix You by Coldplay. You caught yourself humming along unconsciously, straying away from Steven to drop a five dollar bill in the hat placed by the man’s feet. He nodded at you as he continued singing, not minding the raindrops collecting on the surface of his guitar. Steven walked up behind you as you turned around to see if you’d lost him.

His eyes searched your face before he spoke, as if he was absorbing everything he was seeing. You noticed that he did that a lot. Pausing before he spoke and just observing. The rain was starting to come down a little more rapidly, though not enough to soak through your clothing. Little droplets started collecting on the crown of Steven’s head as he stood with you, the noise of the city fading into the background.

“Didn’t know you were a Coldplay fan.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you said, before you caught yourself and changed your tone. “I mean, we haven’t exactly had the opportunity to talk about stuff outside politics and our job.”

“In that case,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you back in the direction you needed to be going in. “I swear not to bring up politics or our job during dinner. As long as you agree to the terms too.”

You felt your face heat up at his proximity, unwilling to look him the eye as you nodded. Steven didn’t seem to mind your sudden silence, content to walk in the rain with his arm around you.

“Are you going to move your arm?” You asked quietly.

“No, our reservation is in fifteen minutes and I can’t have you running off without me again,” he said, not leaving room for argument. He looked down at you and smiled. “Why? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you blurted, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. “I was just surprised.”

“You walk on eggshells around me still, you know. I just want you to view me on the same level as you. We’re both just people.”

“Well, easy for you to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve had a remarkable, decade-long career as one of the most well known journalists of this century. My senile grandmother could probably pick you out in a crowd,” you said, forgoing mentioning the fact you also thought he was unfairly gorgeous and that made you extremely nervous.

“So?”

“So?! I don’t know, it’s intimidating!”

“Y/N, I really don’t want you to think that I’m better than you because of the opportunities I’ve had. I’m also much older than you, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Only by ten years.”

“Ten years is quite a bit of time. Anyways, it’s probably no secret to you what my family does. I was born into wealth, connections, et cetera. I knew journalists and got to learn directly with them. You, on the other hand, probably went through years of schooling and self research. For that, I think you’re just as remarkable,” he said.

“I haven’t done much,” you said, rubbing at your elbow and turning your gaze to the sidewalk.

“On the contrary, you’ve done a lot. Just this last week, for example. You were the one who knew to post that specific clip to twitter and you were the one who edited the story. You single handedly ensured our success, and I refuse to hear otherwise.”

“But-“

“Ah! I won’t have it,” he cut you off, looking at you with a faked sternness. “I’m sure you’ve done much more too. You’re obviously very clever.”

“I don’t know about all that-“

“One more self deprecating word out of you, and I’ll make you pay for dessert. Be warned, this place is very expensive.”

“If it’s so expensive why are we going?” You asked, stopping in your tracks.

“Because it's a celebration and I’m paying?” He said, tilting his head and looking at you like you’d asked the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard.

“You’re what!”

“Y/N, love. If someone asks you to go somewhere, they have to pay. Anything else is impolite. Come on, even if you make me cancel the reservation, they’ll have me pay them $100.”

“What kind of place is this?” You gaped, looking over at Steven as he pulled you forward.

“A place that makes great spaghetti.”

“Am I even dressed appropriately for this place?” You asked, more to yourself than to him. You looked down at the outfit you’d worn to work today: skinny jeans, a plain white blouse, and a saffron colored blazer. It would be a little fancy for most of your regular haunts (IHOP, McDonalds, or Shake Shack), but you wouldn’t stand out too much. At Steven’s expensive restaurant, though? You would probably stick out like a sore thumb.

“You look beautiful as always, don’t worry about it,” Steven said, gently rubbing your shoulder. “Oh, look. This is the restaurant.”

You tried hard not to react to what he said, but your heart rate definitely sped up and you felt a lot warmer. Steven, thankfully, was too busy getting the two of you checked in and seated at the restaurant to notice how you’d malfunctioned at his casual compliment. It was stupid, a throwaway line to make you shut up. But it filled you up with metaphorical butterflies anyways.

When the waiter handed you your menus, Steven finally looked at you and asked if you were okay. You quickly nodded and lied about needing to go wash your hands, hoping he didn’t see right through your ruse. You took a few minutes to calm yourself down in the bathroom before you went back out.

“Welcome back,” Steven said as you slid into the booth. “I ordered you some water. I didn’t know what kind of wine you’d want.”

“I don’t really have a taste for wine. Had a few bad experiences getting wine drunk,” you said, opening up your menu to scan through the options.

“Oh? You’re going to have to tell me that story. Also, I already know what the cheapest thing on this menu is, and if you order it, I’m going to ignore you and order something twice as expensive. So choose wisely.”

“Can you read minds?” You asked, dropping the menu in surprise.

“Your concern about burdening others is a part of you that I have come to understand, yes,” he said, not lifting his gaze from his own menu. “Do you like seafood? I think you’d like their shrimp and lobster spaghetti.”

“You know this place better than I do, so I’ll let you order.”

“Great,” Steven said with a beaming smile, waving down a waiter and ordering two plates of the house special spaghetti. When the waiter disappeared into the back, Steven turned his attention to you. “So, Coldplay?”

“Please, everyone likes Coldplay.”

“You struck me as more of a millennial hipster type. Like, you listen to bands no one’s heard of and you take pride in that. The lower their listener count on Spotify is, the better.”

“What! That’s such a specific assumption!”

“Tell me it’s not true then. Tell me you don’t do that,” he said, pressing his lips together to hold back a smirk.

“Well, I guess,” you said begrudgingly, unable to keep yourself from smiling at his amusement. “But I listen to lots of stuff! You strike me as an oldies lover. Like a ‘I was born in the wrong decade’ type of guy.”

“Harsh, but accurate,” he chuckled.

“What can I say, I’m observant,” you said, purposely flipping your hair and patting yourself on the back to make Steven laugh even harder.

When the waiter returned with your orders, a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you focused on the food. You’d mentioned briefly to him that what he ordered you was amazing before continuing to shovel the spaghetti down (in a sort of ladylike fashion, this was still a nice place). The rest of the evening was the two of you exchanging surface level facts about each other. Your favorite movies, musicians, places to go, museums in D.C.. It was all stuff you’d probably find if you scoured the internet and read every interview he ever gave, but it was nice to just treat him like a regular coworker, and he clearly preferred that you thought of him that way.

“Who’s your inspiration? Like for work?”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to talk about work,” he said, a teasing smile on the corners of his lips. “But Walter Cronkite.”

“Typical.”

“What? He was the most trustworthy man in America. I’d like to be on that level, you know? To be someone that people would look at and say ‘that person is telling the truth’. It’s a big honor.”

“That’s fair. You’re right. It’s a popular response, but it’s a good one.”

“Who’s yours, then?” He asked.

“There was a woman who did our local news, Tiffany Day. She was amazing. I wanted to be like her so bad when I was growing up. She seemed so confident and powerful on television, like she couldn’t be lied to.”

“I think you’ll get there. You’re already amazing and a great journalist. Biggest pet peeve?”

“Hopefully. And liars. I hate being lied to more than anything else.”

“You seem to have a preoccupation with that. Lies.”

“It’s part of my tragic backstory, you’ll have to reach level fifteen friendship to unlock that,” you said, deflecting the unspoken question. That story was not one you were interested in rehashing with Steven.

“What level am I at now?” He asked, amused with your challenge.

“Two. Three, because you bought me food.”

“How do I level up?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to find out, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Well, I’ll add that to my personal goals for this year. Unlock Y/N’s tragic backstory. Just a warning, though, Miss Y/N. I usually achieve all my goals.”

You blinked at him, but he had already moved on to getting the waiter to bring him the check. You didn’t really know how to react to Steven’s promise to you, but you were a little worried. Would he really express all this interest in you after he did unlock your “tragic backstory”? You’d only had his attention for a short amount of time, but you found yourself blooming under it. You liked the way he made you feel important and the way he spoke to you.

You liked him, period.

You could only hope he’d still like you after uncovering just how much of a pathetic wreck you were on the inside. Once he’d found the irreparable neuroticism and negative energy that you tried to keep bottled up. You couldn’t say for certain, but you really hoped he’d stay.

You and Steven had been working together for a few months, and this had never happened before.

You should have expected that a mix up was bound to occur, or that your cheapskate editor would decide to cut corners on production costs, or even that hotel space would be limited somewhere eventually. But you were surprised anyways when you and Steven were asked to share a room in Anaheim. Luckily, there were two beds, but it was still awkward to be sharing a room with your hot coworker for a week. What if he ran into you while he was naked? Or worse, what if he ran into YOU naked?

You shivered at the thought as you set your luggage on the ground near the window, Steven following behind. You looked over at him while he was taking his shoes off, briefly wondering if this is what a bride would feel like on her wedding night.

‘Where the hell did that thought come from?’ You asked yourself.

“Sorry about the mix up, guess you’re going to have to deal with little old me as your roommate,” he said as he stripped off his blazer and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “I should probably warn you that I’m a little messy and I go to bed pretty late.”

“I don’t mind messes, so as long as you keep it on your side of the room,” you said with a wry smile. “I tend to play my music out loud while I’m getting ready in the mornings, but I can use headphones this week. It’s not a problem.”

“No, you don’t have to use headphones. I’d love to hear what you have on your playlists,” he said, giving you a quick grin as he began unpacking his sweatpants and toiletries. “I think we’ll be okay as roommates.”

He was wrong, however, because you were definitely not okay.

You should have established a rule about a minimum amount of clothing you were allowed to wear within the room, because Steven’s habit of walking around shirtless was driving you insane. It was taking every ounce of willpower in your body to not stare. What the hell was he so ripped for? Where did he even find the time to work out?

Meanwhile Steven’s eye candy for the week was you in no makeup and fuzzy fleece pajama pants. At first, you tried to avoid taking off your makeup while he was still awake. But you soon realized that he wasn’t lying when he said he went to bed late. You waited until 2 am on the first night before giving up and going about your skincare routine. He didn’t look twice at you, so you guessed that was semi positive. At least you weren’t double take levels of ugly.

You slammed your face into the pillow and tried not to groan out loud at the looped thought of him ditching his bed for yours, since he was right across from you reading an Agatha Christie novel. Ugh, of course he reads. As if he wasn’t perfect enough.

“Are you okay?” Steven asked.

“Great,” you lied. “It’s just a little cold in here.”

“Do you want my comforter? I kick it down to the edge of the bed anyways.”

You accepted the offered blanket, even though you didn’t need it.

On the third day, Steven accidentally walked into the bathroom right after you finished taking a shower. Thankfully, you had a towel wrapped around you, but you were startled nonetheless, nearly tripping out of surprise. He grabbed onto your arm and waist instinctually to steady you, but quickly let go of as if he’d been burned.

“Um, sorry,” he blurted before walking right back out, a blush high on his cheeks.

That was strange, you’d thought. He’d never blushed in front of you before. It was kind of adorable. Obviously you thought of Steven as handsome and attractive, and in the deep recesses of your mind, you agreed with his position as a sex symbol. But you’d never seen him as cute before. He was always much too polished. It was sort of nice to see him at a loss like that.

When you’d stepped out of the shower, he’d disappeared entirely, with only a note saying he left to go get some tea and to text him if you wanted anything. You smirked to yourself and briefly considered wearing shorts and a tank top to bed just to see how he’d react, before banishing the idea from your mind. That would be much too obvious and you didn’t want to just throw yourself at him, even though you were very tempted to. It would make your professional relationship awkward, and you liked the dynamic you had already.

Instead, you texted him to ask for popcorn so you could have a movie night and watch a horror film together. He returned with a bag full of that healthy popcorn you hate for being tasteless for himself, and a bag full of Chicago mix popcorn for you. You gasped and thanked him when he tossed it at you before he climbed into his own bed.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Uh, waiting for you to start the movie?”

“You’re really going to watch it all the way over there?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steven rolled his eyes and groaned as if you were greatly inconveniencing him, but got into your bed anyways. Mission Get Steven’s Attention: Accomplished. Now you could enjoy the movie with his body heat pressed up against your side, and maybe pretend to be scared halfway through so you could cling onto him.

Though it turned out that plan was unnecessary, because Steven turned out to be terrible with gore. He had his face buried into the crook of your neck, peeking out every now and again to see if the coast was clear. It was interesting, because you were sure Steven had seen much more graphic things at CNN, and those were worse because they were real. You mentioned as much to him, and he told you that was the problem. These scenes reminded him of the very real, very terrible things he had seen in his line of work. You turned the TV off and stroked a hand through his curls comfortingly.

“Why did you agree to this?” You asked softly, leaving the ‘if you knew this was going to happen’ unspoken.

“I thought that it had been long enough,” he said, pulling away from your shoulder. He tried to hide it, but his eyes were a little puffy and red from the tears he was trying to hold back. “That those scenes wouldn’t be vivid in my mind after all this time.”

“It’s only been a few months,” you whispered, turning to face him better. He blinked at you as you reached over to wipe the tears that had managed to slip past his control. “I wish you would have said something, the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable or bring up bad memories. I would never do that to you. You’re one of my favorite people.”

Instead of replying, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close. A comfortable quietness enveloped the two of you, only the sound of his slightly uneven breathing and his heartbeat kept the room from being completely silent.

“Thank you.”

“No. Thank you,” you said. “For being vulnerable with me.”

Part 2

thank you for reading ♡ you can find my masterlist here

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant fanfic #moon knight smut #marc spector fanfic #oscar isaac #steven grant imagine #marc spector imagine #moon knight #moon knight fanfic

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hollygl125 · 8 months

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On Sara’s feelings in “Immortality”

“In her better moments, Sara still believed Grissom had loved her once. She still believed it had been worth the risk, to be with somebody who really got her and who, for a time, loved her for who she was.”

*Don’t worry; it’s just me getting emotional about “Immortality” again.*

Somewhere on this website there’s a post about how your ideal ship is your type + someone you can project onto. (Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t find the post, so my wording may be off.) I would not historically have thought of Gil Grissom as my type, but smart, handsome, funny, caring, and confident (in some settings) while vulnerable (in others) probably fits the bill.

Do I project onto Sara Sidle, though? That is an absolute yes. I (thankfully!) did not have her tragic childhood, but otherwise I generally identify with the tall, smart, awkward, (unfortunately often) short-tempered brunette. I generally feel like I am viewing the GSR love story through her eyes.

That said, I always try to imagine Grissom’s perspective as well, and there are definitely moments where I strongly identify with him—especially when he is floundering in inaction because he doesn’t know how to proceed (ask out the one he loves, tell her about his sabbatical, etc.).

I have a lot of feelings about the moment when our two lovely science nerds see each other again for the first time in “Immortality.” Historically I have thought a lot about what Grissom must be feeling in this moment. He’s come back to the lab for the first time since the divorce. He’s tried to “White Fang” his wife/love of his life, and, as such, he’s not kept in close contact. He doesn’t really know what’s going on in her life anymore. He doesn’t know if she’s moved on. He doesn’t know how she feels about him now. He doesn’t even know if she’ll feel like the same person, or if instead he’s succeeded in breaking their bond.

(Please excuse me now while I go sob.)

A few months ago, though, I started getting especially emotional about Sara’s feelings here.

In undergrad, I did an overseas exchange. One of the guys there decided we were best friends, and for about a year and a half we kept that up, even after I returned home. But he started dating one of his other friends, she (unsurprisingly, in the full circumstances) didn’t like me, and… yadda, yadda, yadda… he ghosted me (long-distance). I was truly heartbroken; I’d really loved this silly kid. (Think Greg & Sara, though, not Grissom/Sara.)

Roughly two decades have passed since then. It took a while, but I got over it. In my waking hours, I am genuinely at peace with it all. But then, every once in a blue moon (almost literally, since we had a blue moon last week and this happened again a couple nights ago), I have a dream where I meet up with this guy in person, and I’m always super, super excited in the dream finally to have this opportunity for closure. Then I wake up, realize that it was (yet again!) just a dream, and am super, super bummed.

Back to the science nerds:

I can’t imagine Grissom comes back to divorce Sara in person. I don’t think he could go through with the divorce in person. So, like me, she kind of gets ghosted long-distance. They never really hash things out, and she never really gets proper closure.

To quote myself, “In her better moments, Sara still believed Grissom had loved her once. She still believed it had been worth the risk, to be with somebody who really got her and who, for a time, loved her for who she was.” But, to quote myself again, “She wondered whether he’d tired of her. She wondered whether she had simply helped him transition from the lab to the next stage of his life. She wondered whether she’d merely been his midlife crisis…. Sara knew she’d never love any man but Grissom, but sometimes, in her worst moments, she wondered whether he’d ever really loved her at all.”

I think that, even two and a half years later, she still doesn’t really understand what went wrong between them. (In all the circumstances, she couldn’t, really.) I imagine she has dreams where she sees him again and they finally get to hash things out. I imagine she has dreams where she sees him again and finally gets closure. I imagine, most significantly, she has dreams where either they reconcile or they never broke up. Then she wakes up and reality hits her like a gut punch.

I imagine that, in the years between their divorce and their reconciliation, Sara isn’t sure whether she will ever even see again this man she’s loved so desperately for fifteen-plus years. But I imagine her (day)dreaming about what it would be like to get to see him again—to talk to him in person again—and somehow to shake some answers—some understanding—out of him.

Then suddenly he’s coming back to Vegas—for Heather (she thinks)—and the for Heather part is definitely a slap in the face. But in other ways it’s like a dream come true. Even if he’s coming for Heather, at least maybe now she’ll get some better explanation. At least maybe now she’ll get some better understanding. At least maybe now she’ll get some closure.

And then… “I’m back.” But also… “Guess your cell service is better than it used to be.” And also… “Wow, 30 minutes in the car, no words.”

But on the other hand… “I miss working side by side with you.” And… “There’s a great mammal in the ocean known as the 52-hertz whale. All year, he practices his love song for the female. Travels thousands of miles to find her…. They call him the lonely whale. And year after year, for a hundred years, he works on a new love song and never, ever gets a call back.”

And it’s all so confusing, and he’s still completely inscrutable. Half the time he has nothing to say, but then he’s going and claiming it’s because seeing her again left him a little speechless. What on earth is she supposed to do with all that? He still has nothing to say to her: “Sara didn’t know what she’d expected him to say to her, in the end; it was clear he still had nothing. Eventually she’d had to be the one to say goodbye.”

After all this, I imagine she is as confused as ever. After something like 36 hours of non-stop anxiety, she somehow has even less closure than she had before; her gaping wound has been torn even farther open. How is this her life??? But then….

There’s a videotape.

The point is, when I think of all of Sara’s thoughts and feelings and anxieties and sadness during this time… it’s a lot.

And I’m so very grateful that, in the end, she finally gets to sail off into the sunset with the man she loves. She deserves it.

#csi #gsr #otp: gsr #sara x grissom #grissom x sara #sara sidle #gil grissom #jorja fox #william petersen #💛: survivors in the night #my thoughts and feelings on the two lovely science nerds

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addictedtostorytelling · 7 months

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Hi!

Hope you are doing well :) Just a fun and silly question ....

How do you think Sara and Grissom would react now if Sara were referred to as Mrs. Grissom?

I think there have only been two scenarios (I could be wrong) this has happened on CSI – in 10x2, Sara refers to herself as Mrs. Grissom, and in 11x13, the Two Mrs. Grissoms – in which both times it was explicitly made clear she kept her last name.

I realize that it’s the 21st century and it’s not uncommon that women keep their surname after marriage so no biggie that Sara, for all (personal and professional) purposes has kept her last name. But the GSR-fan in me was really hoping someone – either by way of humour or not – would refer to Sara as Mrs. Grissom on CSI: Vegas (in front of the hubby) and we get a reaction. (we got a "my husband" and a "my wife" so can't really complain here)

The version of GSR we got in CSI: Vegas was more jovial. They probably would have teased each other about it?

(I mean she could have gone by ‘Sidle-Grissom’, no?)

Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts!

hi, @renb80s!

good to hear from you again!

so this topic is one that tends to be polarizing in the gsr fandom, with some people really hating the idea of sara taking grissom's last name (even as part of a hyphenate) and some people really liking it/wishing tptb would have gone that route in canon (either in the original series and/or the reboot).

regardless of one's personal feelings on the matter, the facts are these:

as you point out, sara is twice in canon referred to as "mrs. grissom," once in episode 10x02 "ghost town" and once in episode 11x13 "the two mrs. grissoms."

she is also referenced as one of the two titular "mrs. grissoms" of the latter episode in an extratextual sense.

in the first case, she refers to herself that way, albeit in jest.

in the second, she is referred to that way by julia holden.

in both instances, her reaction to being called "mrs. grissom" is to smile widely and blush.

while she does in the former case correct brass's mistaken impression that she has legally taken grissom's name and in the latter case allow her mother-in-law to correct julia holden's mistaken impression that she has taken grissom's name on her behalf, she doesn't, in either instance, appear at all offended by the mistaken impressions themselves. her responses are both very mild.

i'll take things from there after the "keep reading," if you're interested.

now.

canon never delves into why sara doesn't legally take grissom's last name.

the choice could be a personal one on her part.

given the attitudes she expresses in episode 06x21 "rashomama" re: women being treated as exchanged property in marriage, she could be opposed to taking her husband's last name after marriage on feminist grounds.

in a similar vein, maybe she feels maintaining her own identity even within the context of her marriage is important and so doesn't want to either give up her name or merge it with grissom's.

alternatively, perhaps on a more intimate note she wants to keep her family name as something of a testament to herself: to prove her legacy is not determined by her family of origin and that she can be a good, just person while still bearing the last name sidle; to show herself and the world her whole lineage isn't cursed/broken (“everything that happens to us—good and bad—is a part of us. it took me a long time to realize that it doesn’t have to define who we are. we get to decide”).

as an aside: i've always found it interesting sara doesn't change her name upon her emancipation from the foster care system. not only might one expect her to change her name because many former foster kids do once they age out (a fact sara herself even remarks upon in episode 07x16 "monster in the box"), but also because one might think, given her feelings about her family and her childhood trauma, she might be eager to get a fresh start under a new identity once she has the chance to. that she sticks with sidle even after she is at liberty to do otherwise is curious. whether she opts to retain her family name for the personal reason detailed above or perhaps only because legally changing her name would be prohibitively expensive for her (particularly as a financially insecure young adult), we're never told. however, the fact that she still bears her father and mother's last name 25+ years on from her father's murder is certainly fascinating.

i wonder if she was ever worried while she worked for the sfpd that someday someone might discover a link between her somewhat unique surname—according to this tracker, there are fewer than 1,000 sidles (spelled sara's way) worldwide—and a particular 1970s marin county homicide case?

more inanely, maybe she opts to stick with sidle because grissom is commonly called by his last name by their close friends/found family, to the extent she feels her being "grissom," as well, would just be too strange/confusing.

maybe she just likes the way her maiden name sounds due to the alliteration.

maybe she doesn't want her initials to be "sag."

maybe grissom (for whatever reason) never actually offers her his last name and she, not wanting to be presumptuous, never asks if she could take it and so just ultimately doesn't.

maybe she reasons since she and grissom aren't planning to have children, there isn't much imperative for them to all have the same name.

maybe she and grissom talk about the matter and make the mutual decision they don't want to take each other's names or hyphenate (for whatever reasons).

of course, the choice also could be more of a practical one for her.

maybe, like many professional women who have earned degrees, published, been awarded accolades, and built their careers under their maiden names, she doesn't want to separate herself from 20+ years of work and accomplishments.

conversely, her surname status may be more a reflection of the circumstances under which she gets married than anything else: under costa rican law, not only do women not automatically assume their husband's names upon marriage, but foreign citizens who get married in costa rica must use the same name that appears on their passports on their marriage certificates. while a foreign citizen who gets married in costa rica can opt to legally change their name in their country of residence once their costa rican marriage license is sent there, that step is 100% optional and is something the person must undertake to do on their own time/at their own expense ex post facto. that so, if grissom and sara have their wedding in costa rica (which i tend to think they do), then it's entirely possible sara ends up remaining a sidle after marriage by default: because that name is the one on her costa rican marriage license, and she doesn't take the time/pay the fees to make an official change stateside. this option may be especially likely if we consider she probably spends very little time in the states as a newlywed before moving immediately to france.

similarly, even if sara and grissom do marry in the us, she may end up a sidle not due to any strong personal feelings about the matter or professional considerations but simply because the process of legally changing one's name is, frankly, a pain in the ass: while in nevada, people can change their names upon marriage simply by making note of their intentions on their marriage certificates, there are still various costs associated with changing over all of one's legal, professional, and financial information to match one's new name, typically to the tune of about $100-$500. the process can also be time consuming/involved, often requiring in-person visits to prove one's identity at the dmv, bank, city hall, etc. figuring out what all you have to change and what documentation you need in order to make said changes can be confusing/laborious. maybe sara, after initially mulling changing her name, considers the time, expense, and effort required of the endeavor and simply says, "to hell with it," figuring since most people in her life would still know her as sara sidle anyhow, it isn't worth her while to jump through all those obnoxious hoops.

case in point: my mother, who has been married to my father and had his name for forty years, only recently discovered she apparently never changed over her social security number from her maiden name. the process of getting it changed over required dozens of phone calls and filings on her part (made difficult as, four decades on, she doesn't have much documentation linking her to her maiden name left to use for verification purposes) and took her several weeks to complete.

alternatively, maybe sara does initially intend to change her name and is maybe even in the process of doing so but never actually gets around to finishing the job due to the fact that, as a newlywed, she is so frequently in and out of the country, is extremely busy, (once she gets back to the states) works night hours, etc., etc.

maybe there is a paperwork glitch that makes the process difficult enough she doesn't elect to push the issue, even if perhaps she had initially been interested in taking grissom's name to start out with.

as a former ward of the state of california, she would not have access to her original birth certificate and was likely issued a new social security number when her mother's parental rights were severed. though she in theory has a redacted birth certificate and new ssn that are valid for legal purposes, maybe when, after her costa rican wedding, she goes to the state of nevada with her redacted/reissued documents looking to file her legal name change, they give her a hard time about them because they look funny ("how come your birth certificate says you were born in 1971 but according to this database your ssn was issued in 1980?") and require additional verification she simply cannot be bothered to provide.

it's also worth noting that while she doesn't legally take grissom's name either the first time she's married to him or the second (at least insofar as we know), her reasons for making that choice may be different in marriage 1.0 vs. marriage 2.0—for example, maybe the first go-around, she doesn't change her name due to the whole "we got married in costa rica" thing, whereas the second, she figures that after a 25+ year career, she wants to maintain the same name she built her reputation on.

of course, without knowing sara's exact reason or reasons for keeping her maiden name, we can't say with 100% certainty what her feelings on the matter of being "mrs. grissom" are—whether or not it's an issue she has strong feelings about, one way or another; if it's a decision she intends to stick with forever or if she ever might consider changing her name to grissom eventually; etc.

however, based on the two reactions to people referring to her that way we see in canon, i think, at the very least, we can infer she isn't adamantly opposed to being called mrs. grissom socially, even if she didn't take his name legally—and, indeed, may even be somewhat tickled by the experience, finding the notion amusing, if not even cute.

that so, i tend to imagine if someone were to refer to her as mrs. grissom or sara grissom during the events of the reboot, she would probably react much in the same way we see her do in s10 and s11: she'd get a big smile on her face, fluster a bit, and look to grissom, if he were with her. then, either she or he would, laughingly, point out she hadn't changed her name (at least not legally). maybe there'd be some playful banter about why she hadn't ("eh, i thought about it, but living in international waters? it would be a pain to file" "just say the words, and i'll take you to the consulate's office next time we're in guam, darlin'").

my take—and, full disclosure, i'm in the camp that doesn't mind the idea of her changing her name or even just going by grissom's surname more informally/on occasion (as is probably obvious from the fact that i often label my gsr gifsets as "the grissoms")—is that while she's never made the effort to actually legally change her name to grissom's and maybe even sees some advantages to keeping her maiden name for professional reasons, she has no problem being associated with his name socially and in fact kind of gets a kick out of it, which is why she sometimes refers to herself that way unprompted and doesn't really go out of her way to correct people who make mistakes about what she's called.

i can very easily imagine that after sara and grissom leave vegas at the end of csi: vegas s1, a few weeks later, a postcard arrives at the lab addressed to max, postmarked from panama, bearing no inscription other than a signoff "from the grissoms," written in sara's hand.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

also, shameless plug: for those of you reading "an opposite of echoes," eventually, you'll get to see sara react to being called "mrs. grissom" in that story (on multiple occasions).

#answered #renb80s #asks: csi #**#my meta #meta: csi #meta: sara #hypothetical scenario #meta: vegas #csiverse #let's talk shop

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its-a-geeks-world · 1 year

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Rollercoasters and CSI: a breakdown:

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation:

S01 E05 “Friends and Lovers”:

The coaster that shows up in this episode is none other than the world-famous ‘Big Apple Coaster’, also known as the ‘Manhattan Express’. This coaster has been decorating the New York New York Hotel & Casino in Vegas since 1997 and has since become not only an icon of the city, but one of the most famous coasters for coaster enthusiasts and non-enthusiasts alike.

S01 E22 “Evaluation Day”

The rollercoaster Warrick and Grissom ride at the end of this episode sadly doesn’t exist anymore. It was called ‘Speed – The Ride’, and it was located at the Nascar Café at the old Sahara Hotel in Vegas. The ride operated from 2000 to 2011. It was a shuttle loop coaster, which means that the coaster traveled its layout twice; once forwards, once backwards. Props to W. Petersen and G. Dourdan for daring to ride it.

S04 E21 “Turn of the Screws”

The roller coaster that serves as the crime scene in this episode isn’t actually located in Las Vegas – the real one, that is. ‘Pharaoh’s Fury’ was actually the ‘Screaming Mummy’, which operated at the former Pharaoh’s Lost Kingdom family park in Redlands, California, now Splash Kingdom Waterpark, the location where the park scenes were shot. After several relocations, the ride currently operates in a park in Michigan.

Aditionally, though not shown, throughout the episode Grissom and Woody, the ride operator, mention several real-life coasters. These include the ‘Desperado’ in Primm, Nevada, ‘The Beast’ and ‘Son of Beast’ at Kings Island, Ohio, the latter of which was the first modern-day wooden coaster to feature a vertical loop (hence the “head over heels” comment from Grissom), the ‘Steel Phantom’ (now ‘Phantom’s Revenge’ at Kennywood, Pennsylvania), and the 'American Eagle' at Illinois’ Six Flags Great America.

CSI: Vegas:

S01 E10 “Signed, Sealed, Delivered”

The rollercoaster featured in the season finale of CSI: Vegas where that long-awaited GSR kiss finally happens isn’t actually in Vegas either. Just like the Mosaic Casino, the Mosaic coaster doesn’t exist. Instead, Mr. Petersen and Ms. Fox took a trip to Six Flags Magic Mountain in Valencia, California, to ride one of its coasters: ‘Goliath’. Then, they altered the footage to make it seem like the coaster is located in Sin City. Here you can see a comparision between the show footage, and real footage of the coaster.

CSI: Cyber

S01 E02 “CMND:/Crash"

This one is actually a bit of a mystery, and there isn’t a lot of information out there. As evidenced by the stills from the episode (the two on top and the one right below on the left), several different coasters were used but made seem like it was the same one. I couldn’t identify how many, or which ones they were. I can only say that the one with the corkscrews (see below) is actually a rollercoaster at Heide Park Resort in Germany, of all places. Needless to say, it was probably stock footage. You can see a picture of the real coaster right next to it.

My best guess? Since we barely see the actual "ride" layout and the only long scenes happen at the "station" and with the wrecked car... Is it too far-fetched to think there's no real coaster and they built it for the episode? Who knows.

Bonus:

On some of the opening credits for CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, the very first frame we are shown features the iconic coaster that wraps around the top of the Stratosphere tower in Las Vegas: the ‘High Roller’. This was, of course, very real, but it was torn down in 2006. Fun fact: they actually cut the coaster into tiny pieces and sent them down the elevator.

And that’s it, everybody! If you’ve read this far, thank you so much for sticking with me while I talk about two of my loves in this life; CSI and rollercoasters (one of the only things Griss and I have in common). Hope you enjoyed, and if anyone has any information to add/correct, feel free to let me know.

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coping-via-clint-eastwood · 1 year

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Snowman Stocking Hook of Death - a CSI Christmas murder

(A/N: Aite so I got the prompt for this LAST year, but it took me too long to write, and I missed the posting date of 25-05-2021. So, here it is this year. Here's the said prompt:

Here's another irl item I incorporated into the story and why:

Useful links to resources I used when checking facts for this story -

http://www.forensicsciencesimplified.org/csi/how.html

https://coronertalk.com/28

https://www.crime-scene-investigator.net/evidenc3.html

https://science.howstuffworks.com/csi.htm

Warning: mentions of parental abuse. Yes I somehow incorporated it...*sigh* :')

It wasn't necessary to add Nick in for such a small crime scene, but a friend of mine wanted him in the fic. Besides, I wouldn't have the GSR moment if he hadn't come in.

Just the heads up - this fic is nowhere near as good as what you'd see in canon. I'm sorry; I have no experience writing forensics stories. You are more than welcome to throw eggs at me.)

Grissom poked through the desk drawers of the bedroom he was in, photographing the contents before he disturbed them. He found a WLVU student ID. He took some shots of it then lifted it out of the drawer, carefully walking amidst all the blood drops to Sara, who was processing the outside area of the flat. "Celia Dashner, twenty-three years old. She was a tech student," he read out to her; that last piece of information was not on the ID, but Grissom had spotted a textbook lying on the desk.

Before Sara could respond, David entered the flat, with a,"You'd think people would hold off on murdering each other for the holiday season at least."

"Are you. Gonna say that to Nick when he gets here? Like how you kept repeating 'you'd think she'd know better than to wear white on the bride's big day' during the Diane Chase case?" Sara returned, turning her face from her camera to look at him, making her husband snort with laughter; ever since they had announced their relationship, Gil allowed himself to be more expressive in public, especially when he was responding to Sara.

"I-" David was taken aback.

Before he could say anything else however, Nick came in, saying, "Man, you'd think people would hold off on murdering each other for the holiday season at least." The Grissoms looked at each other, then at David, who was smirking. At their silence, Nick asked, "...what?"

"We'll tell you later. Body's in the bedroom." Grissom answered, turning to David as he said the last part.

David was still smiling smugly. "Shut up," Sara quipped. He raised his hands in mock surrender and headed over to the body. The CSIs followed him.

"Apparent cause of death is blunt force trauma to the head, caused by...that." Grissom swept the beam of his torchlight over to the bloody snowman stocking hook that lay close to the body. But there was a perculiarity about it. "Stocking hook...but no stockings anywhere. Not dropped on the floor, not anywhere in the shelf."

The other object of interest that lay on the floor was a small bell with a Santa figurine on it. It had fallen a little distance away, just at the bottom of the shelf. On the top, there was a space where the two objects would fit snugly if they were placed there.

Nodding towards the murder weapon, Nick piped up, "My mom bought one of those for the house last Christmas. It's pretty heavy. I'd say two, three strikes would do the job? Maybe four?" Nick piped up.

Gil bobbed his head a few times, then speculated, "Are we sure that the cause of death is this straightforward?"

"Well. My teacher would say that science will tell us if how things look is how they really are." She smiled at her husband, and he smiled right back at her.

Of course, Grissom was professional as always and brought their attention back to the body. "Look at how she's lying. Her knees are bent. She must've been falling while she was being hit, rather than being on the floor with the killer over her." He shone his torch on the bell. "And what about that?"

"It probably dropped off when the killer grabbed the hook and brushed it past the bell," Sara said. Grissom and Nick nodded.

"Lividity is fixed, rigor is starting in the face, and liver temp is eighty-nine point six degrees Fahrenheit. She's been dead around six hours. There's nothing in her pockets. We'll know more after the autopsy," David said.

"So she's been lying here since one am...who called it in?" Grissom voiced.

"Brass was talking to the neighbor, Lindsey Henderson. Apparently, they were supposed to go for a jog like they do every morning. When Celia didn't answer the door, she called the landlord. They opened the door and found her like this," Sara answered, gesturing to the person lying on the floor.

Grissom nodded in acknowledgment. "David, we'll let you know when you can take her away."

"Okay." He went to wait outside.

Brass popped in. "Vic's name was Celia Dashner. She was a twenty-three-year-old tech student at WLVU. She was supposed to be alone last night, so that narrows the field. I couldn't find anything else out. I'm gonna go over to the school and do some asking around."

"Okay. Nick, you're with him," Gil said.

Nick nodded, "Okay," and went with the detective.

As for Gil and Sara, they kept looking to see what they could find. Once all the blood spatter was accounted for and documented, David was given the go-ahead to take the body away. The CSIs found information regarding Dashner's classes, schedules, and so on. Sara texted Nick to drop the details, along with all the photos he might need. A continued search yielded a phone and a laptop. After collecting prints and DNA, they were bagged to be carted off to Archie. They also collected various hair samples that did not match the victim.

"There's not much left here to do with the actual event...killer knew their business," Sara said.

"Yeah. And the weapon used was one of opportunity. I think the killer wanted to talk to the vic, then they got into an argument, and things escalated from there." Sara nodded at her husband's plausible theory. They headed back to the lab, giving the evidence to Archie, Mandy and Wendy respectively.

Meanwhile at the school, Nick and Jim were talking to the headmaster, Mrs. Millers. "That's terrible! I can't imagine who would do such a thing!" the lady cried, a look of horror and shallow grief on her face, the kind of grief experience when a loss that was not particularly close to you but that one still cared about in a general sense occured.

"We're gonna need to take a look at Celia's records, as well as speak to everyone in her classes," Brass said.

Millers had to nod a few times. "Yeah, of course, anything to help the investigation."

"We appreciate your cooperation," Nick said.

So the principal brought them to the records room and handed the file to them. Then, she brought them to Dashner's class, stopping at the door. She raised a hand to knock, but then hesitatd. She turned to them and pleaded, "Wait here." Finally, she knocked the door. The teacher stopped with his hands in mid-air with how he was gesticulating, his head turned towards the door. The more attentive of his students were looking at the door too. Millers enteref walked up to the teacher at the front of the classroom, and the lecturer turned his body where his head was facing. "Mister Jameson," Millers called.

"Yes, ma'am?" the teacher inquired, looking over her at the men outside bearing law enforcement credentials. Even though he was much younger than his boss, he had a lot of white hair due to lack of regular sleep. And, like most chronic screen starers, he wore a pair of glasses, rectangular and black-rimmed.

Mrs. Millers looked at the students, then back at him; he could see that she was upset about something. "May I talk to you outside?"

Jameson looked at his students and instructed, "Finish up the line of code," then followed his superior out into the vestibule.

"Connor, these are CSI Nick Stokes and detective James Brass. They're with the Las Vegas crime lab."

"Mister Jameson..." Nick softened his eyes, his eyebrows frowning slightly as he prepared himself for what he had to say, his head tilting to one side a little as he made a small swallow. "Celia...your student...was found murdered in her apartment this morning."

Jameson's jaw dropped open slightly. He seemed to want to say something, but was struggling to do so. Brass said, "We're gonna need to talk to everyone in this class, including you. We're also need to take your prints and DNA."

"Prints? DNA? A-are we suspects?" His eyes darted about from one man to another.

"It'll help us to rule you out," Nick told him gently.

Jameson inhaled, then exhaled, his shoulders heaving. "How'm I gonna tell my students?"

"I can handle it," Mrs. Millers said kindly, putting a hand on Connor's shoulder.

He exhaled shakily through his mouth and nodded a few times. "Y-yeah...thank you..." Millers smiled a small smile at him, then went inside, Nick and Jim following her, with Jameson tailing timidly behind.

"All right everyone, I have something really important to tell you. She looked at Nick and Brass, then back at the students. "Celia...the reason she isn't here today, is that she was found dead in her apartment." Instant murmuring and exchanging of glances ensued. "CSI Stokes and detective Brass are here to investigate the matter. They're gonna wanna speak to each and every one of you, as well as take your fingerprints, and your DNA." That, especially the last part, increased the uproar. Skillfully, the headmaster put her hands out peaceably and made her voice rise over the noise without having to yell, saying, "It's so that they can eliminate you as suspects." Of course, the students were still uncomfortable about the matter, but they knew not to go against what the principal said, and so they quietened down. Mrs. Millers looked to Jim and Nick, indicating that they could go ahead.

"Thank you," Nick said. Millers nodded.

"All right everyone, I'm gonna need you to form a line in front of mister Stokes. Once he's done with you, you come to me to give me your statements. You too mister Jameson," Jim called out, gesturing to Nick then in front of himself. "All right let's go." He clapped his hands. Everyone did as they were told, with Jameson being first in line.

Nick collected what he needed, then dismissed him with a, "Thank you very much sir, please proceed to my friend over there." He spoke like this, gentle, sweetly and politely, to everyone.

Connor took small, trudging steps to Jim. "So, tell me about your student."

"She was good in her class," Connor said, keeping his head down, one hand clasping the wrist on his other hand. "Quiet, not that many friends, but close with the ones she had." He glanced over the a cluster of students at the back of the line; they seemed deeply bereaved, so they had joined the queue with much hesitation, while the rest of their classmates were more somber with the realisation that someone they knew had been taken too soon. "Those were her best friends. They all stuck together. If you wanna find out anything that could really help you, you should ask them."

"Is there anyone absent today besides Celia?" Jim asked. Jameson shook his head. "Okay, thanks very much. That will be all. But stay in town; I might wanna ask you more questions later." Jameson nodded and took his leave. Everyone else got the same dismissal reminder to remain in Vegas during the course of the investigation. When everyone had given their prints amd DNA to Nick, he took half of what was left of Brass' queue.

Eventually, it was just Celia's friends left, so Nick and Jim questioned them all together. "She never hurt anybody. I can't imagine who would do this," Jamie sniffled, eyes red and her head down, her hands cluthing her jacket on her arms to herself.

Brian was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder. "Is there anything we can do?" he asked, keeping himself together better than anyone else in the group.

"Just cooperate with our investigation and help us do our best to find Celia's killer," Nick said genially. He took out his phone. "Now what my team and I are really curious about is this," he said, showing them the picture of the bell.

That caused Jamie to crack a small smile. "Celia's had it for a long time. She bought it as soon as she moved out of her parents' house; it gave her company. And when she got lonely, she'd ring it. She never needed to use it when we went to visit." Then, her own words affected her. "And now..." A fresh cry started up. "We'll never do that again..." Davy, another friend, rubbed her shoulder and back while Brian still had his hold on her.

They were all feeling that emptiness, that void that had been left behind by the person who was once in their lives, who was now forcibly removed from them permanently. And, they knew and felt, too, the meaning of the further loss, that they would never be with each other again; no new memories would be created, which was what triggered Jamie's crying. They could only hold on to what they already had.

"What about the stocking hook she had? The snowman one? We didn't find any stockings at the scene." Nick did not want to show them the picture of the object with their friend's blood on it.

"Yeah, it's the same. I mean, same reason as-...as-as why she bought the bell," Brian said.

"Is there no one at all who'd have a motive? Anybody she had a fight with...?" Jim voiced.

Davy shook their head. "No. Celia kept to herself. It was either that or sticking to one or all of us."

"What about her family?" That was Jim again.

"When Jamie said she 'left her parents' house', she really meant Celia'd left; she broke away from them and hasn't seen any of her family in a long time," Brian answered.

"How did she fund her tuition?" Jim asked.

"Full scholarship. She was brilliant. She also had a gig being the assisstant manager at the cafe across her house," Brian said.

"Could any of her family have found her?" Nick left his question as it was, for everyone knew what he was implying.

Jamie shook her head, but still stared at the floor, the jacket being hugged loosely in her arms now. "They haven't heard from each other in years. There's no way they could've found her. Besides, Celia would have been much better at tracking and avoiding being tracked through devices anyway."

Jim and raised an eyebrow and looked at Nick. "Well..." he looked back at Jamie, "tracking was possible before contemporary technology."

"No, Celia didn't leave any paper trail. She was careful not to," Davy said.

"How do you know?" Jim challenged.

"She told us everything, even the worst stuff of what her parents did to her," Davy returned.

Jim nodded, "Okay. Um, what other classes did Celia have? And did she have any extracurricular activities?"

"No. Celia wanted to focus on this class only," Davy said.

"Did she have any other friends besides you?"

"She didn't mix with anyone outside of class," Brian answered.

Jim bobbed his head a few times, glancing over his notes. Then he asked one more time, "Is there anything else you can tell us that might help? Any odd changes in behaviour recently, even anything that might seem like just a quirk..."

They all thought. "Well... sometimes, when we were with her, it seemed like she was keeping something to herself. We figured she'd tell us when she was ready, but now..." His eyes were downcast.

"Hey. Listen to me," Nick said; Brian met his eyes. "Her death is not your fault. You were being nothing but a good friend by not pushing her. She'd want you to remember that." Brian smiled a tight smile from one side of his mouth.

That was all the information Nick and Jim could gather. So they left the school to return to the lab. Nick went to drop off the samples with Mandy and Wendy while Jim went to update Grissom and Sara.

Nick went to Mandy first. When she saw how many samples she had to run, her jaw dropped. Nick grinned playfully and quirked his eyebrows as he held up the ten-cards. "Well...at least we have a good chance of a match," Mandy said.

"Yeah," Nick agreed as he put the evidence on the counter.

"Before I start running all these, I'd like you to do something for me," Mandy grinned.

"Oh yeah what's that?" Nick grinned too, mocking her.

"Sing for me."

Nick gave a scoffing laugh. "You can only have me sing for you if you've found something big."

Mandy became docile but serious. "Yeah well, it's been a while since I've heard you singing voice, and," she shrugged, "I miss it."

Nick smiled. "Okay." He sang, "Oh Mandy, well you came and you gave without taking. But I sent you away." Mandy signalled for him to stop. "Oh Mandy."

Mandy was beaming. "Thank you."

"Glad I could be of entertainment," he smirked back. He headed to the DNA lab next.

As for Wendy, she reeled back for a few moments, her breath catching in her throat before it was released in a huff through her nose. "Wow," was all she could say.

"Yeah...if the killer isn't in here, you can kill me," Nick said as he placed the swabs laying in neat rows.

"You know, I heard you singing for Mandy. Maybe I should have you do that for me."

Nick laughed nervously, taking a step back and turning his head and body away. "Oh, oh no," he chuckled, shaking his head as he turned back to Wendy. "What, you got a song that uses the name 'Wendy'?"

" 'Wendy' and 'Mandy' sound very similar. You could just swap the names." Nick begun to step away quickly. "You're lucky I love you," Wendy teased.

"Yeah, I love you too," Nick smiled over his shoulder before walking away.

Jim found the Grissoms sitting on the guest's side of Gil's desk. They had brought their chairs and bodies close together, so that their arms and legs were touching. Even their heads were so close that they could kiss if they just turned them. They were talking in hushed voices. Sara passed Gilbert a mug of chocolate; they were evidently sharing it. He felt sorry for interrupting their quiet moment, which was why he let Gil take his sip before knocking on the door politely. In perfect synchronisation, they turned their heads and waists and looked at him, having turned facing each other. Upon perceiving him, they faced the desk. Gil set the mug down and they stood up, moving past the chairs to be closer to Jim. "What've you got?" Sara asked.

"Oh, you know, plenty," Jim played nonchalance, opening his notebook. "You know, considering there's a whole classroom's worth of statements."

Gil and Sara were smiling. Sweet as ever, Gil said, "All right, let's hear it," his soft voice gravelly and gentle. And thus Jim gave them a full report of everything he knew. When he was finished, Jim said, "I'm gonna go to the cafe and see what I can find. Toodles." Gil and Sara waved. Unfortunately, Jim would find that there was nothing that could help them; no one knew the victim personally enough to want to kill her.

After that, Gil, Sara and Nick went to pay Al a visit. Even though Nick was the lead investigator for the case, nobody else had anything to do until the print and DNA results were ready, and as of yet Archie had not found anything.

"COD's pretty straightforward; blunt force trauma to the head, penetrating the frontal and parietal bones through to the brain. Wounding is consistent with the weapon you found at the scene. The victim was struck thrice. The first and second hits didn't break her skull; the third and final blow did. I found no other wounds on her body, not even scabs or light bruising from sporting activities."

"Well her mates did say she was a chronic homebody," Nick said.

"Oh, sounds familiar," Sara piped up, looking at Gil, who turned to her with a raised eyebrow. Nick and Al were grinning at them.

After the autopsy report, they went to do some more waiting, until Wendy texted Nick. "All the blood at the scene was a match to the vic's. Most of the hairs you found were from Davy, Brian and Jamie, but one of them was a match to the teacher, Connor Jameson," Wendy reported, handing the results sheet to Grissom, who took it and put on his glasses.

Since she was just in the next lab over, Mandy walked in to them. "Hey. I couldn't find any prints on the murder weapon. Those bloody smudges you gave me weren't enough for a print; the material of the hook is horrible for prints. I wish I had more exciting news." She handed her report over to Sara.

"It's okay. We'll find more," Nick said, charitable as always.

Just then, Grissom's phones chimed. He took it out and read the text. "It's Archie. He says he's found something." And just like that, he turned around and walked out of the lab.

"Thanks, guys," Nick said, starting to leave too.

"Thanks, guys," Sara repeated.

"You're welcome," they said at the same time.

They found Archie putting eyedrops in his eyes, sighing tiredly. "What've you got for us, Arch?" Nick asked. Sara walked up to Archie and put a hand on the back of his shoulder comfortingly.

Archie closed the bottle and put it down before starting. "It took me a really long while to find this; it was in a very secure folder," he said as he clicked on a few things and brought the displays up.

The CSIs went to look at them on the big screen. "What're we looking at?"

"This is all documented proof that one Connor Jameson has been stealing large amounts of money in small increments via online transfer. He's been stealing from multiple bank accounts; Celia's is one of them. She's been investigating it for months."

Grisson raised an eyebrow at the name of the thief. "Connor Jameson? That's the vic's tech teacher," Nick piped up.

"This gives us motive," Gil pointed out.

"Jameson must've found out his student was looking into him, tried to get her to stop, and when she refused, he got desperate," Sara reasoned.

The Grissoms look at Nick to see if he agreed. "I'll call Brass."

"You go on ahead. Gil and I'll hang back here," Sara said as she and her husband joined hands, Gil looking away shyly.

Nick nodded. "Okay." And off he went.

Gil and Sara looked at each other. Still holding hands, Gil led his wife to his office. Then, when they were some way inside, Gil turned to face Sara and walked her backwards until she was against a wall, gently pinning his body on hers and pressing his lips to hers, his eyes closed. Her eyes were closed too as she chuckled. Yep, they were gonna bang when they went home.

#csi #gsr #gil grissom #sara sidle #nick stokes #jim brass #mandy webster #wendy simms #archie johnson #al robbins #david philips #c-v-c-e fic

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virtualcurrencyspace · 1 year

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Regulators Must Target The Lack Of Transparency In Centralized Exchanges

Sean Farrell, head of digital-asset strategy, FundStrat: "In the past six months, we have witnessed the unraveling of a web of leverage that entangled the crypto space. It started with LUNA/UST, seemingly resolved in the 3AC unwind, only to find that SBF now appears to have been insolvent as well.... We think it is appropriate to wait for lower lows as there is good reason to think that there will be other casualties, which could lead to forced selling or, at the very least, bad headline risk."

Joe DiPasquale, CEO of BitBull Capital: "The last few days have seen the space shaken by the collapse of SBF's empire, and expectedly, despite traditional markets showing some strength, BTC and crypto took a hit due to poor sentiment. Even though BTC has settled around $16,000 for now, the extent of the damage to other companies, funds, exchanges is as yet unknown, and may come to the fore in the weeks to come. As before, we believe BTC under $20,000 is an attractive long-term accumulation zone, but we also remain cautious until the current situation is satisfactorily resolved and sentiment appears to start moving toward relative normalcy. Notably, the last few days have seen a significant drop in exchange reserves for BTC and stablecoins, indicating a lack of trust and prevalence of fear in the market. We will be monitoring for signs of returning confidence among the masses as a positive indicator."

David Duong, head of institutional research, Coinbase: "The relative crypto market stability of recent months was interrupted.... We have seen broader market instability despite some positive macro developments for risk assets as a whole.... It’s still emerging which counterparties may have lent or interacted with either FTX or Alameda and what those exact liabilities are.... BTC could not only retest 2022 lows but touch the $13K level.... We think there is support at $13.5K."

Arcane Research newsletter: "This situation is a mess.... One of the largest crypto companies in the industry was playing with customers’ money. An embarrassment for the industry, but it also reminds us of what an unregulated Wild West this still is. The contagion from this will undoubtedly evolve over the next weeks."

Galaxy Digital newsletter: "It’s likely that FTX depositors who still have funds stuck on the exchange will be considered unsecured creditors and face a lengthy legal process. While several firms have proactively and publicly offered some transparency on exposure to FTX, the totality of industry exposure remains unknown at this time... An enormous amount of money is at stake (perhaps lost), but the impact of FTX’s collapse is even further magnified by the exchange’s wide-ranging marketing efforts and Sam Bankman-Fried's prominence... The size of his advocacy and extremeness of his collapse cannot be understated and will have long-lasting ripple effects in Washington for crypto policy."

GSR weekly crypto recap: "It’s sad that 2022 in crypto hasn’t been about the potential of crypto but rather about leverage, greed, fraud and lack of transparency - the very things the people involved accused TradFi of and vowed to change."

Pantera Capital's Blockchain Letter: "In the short term, there will be pain for those who lost funds held on FTX’s exchange. More broadly, we expect further price volatility across the crypto ecosystem as fears of contagion drive asset holders to adjust their portfolios. Assets linked to FTX (Solana and projects built on it, Aptos, etc.) will likely be hit hardest.... The episode will also probably be a setback to adoption, as some retail users who lost funds choose to leave the space, and others who may have joined sooner are scared into staying on the sidelines. We expect institutions previously wary of the space to deepen their skepticism."

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originalpinkranger · 2 years

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Cradle and All - GSR

Hi friends! I’m back with the sequel. All this baby talk has been hard for me, but therapeutic at the same time, so I really hope you enjoy it!

Cradle and All

GSR - Rated G

36 hours. That’s how long it took. Lots of “I hate you’s” “never agains” and “don’t ever touch me again!” But it was all worth it when Marlow Rollins Grissom came into the world. All 5lbs 6ozs of her. Slight curly brown hair, blue eyes and red as a beet. Screaming her head off. But all Grissom saw was perfection. Sara was taking a much-needed nap and all he could do was look down at his daughter, whom he helped create, and smile proudly. “Your daddy’s little girl aren’t you?” He cooed down at her. She finally stopped screaming about an hour ago, crying herself to sleep and snuggling herself into her dad’s warm arms. She peeked her eyes open slightly and her bright blue eyes looked up at the matching soft cool ones looking down at her. Grissom cooed again, “you’re just the most perfect thing aren’t you?” She gave her dad a gummy little smile, yawned wide and dozed back off to sleep. His heart melted. Grissom rocked her back and forth lazily, gripping her hand with his finger and lifting her fist up to his lips to kiss it. “You’ll never have to worry about anything Marlow. Daddy has you. You’ll go to the best schools and I’ll shield you from all the bad things and teach you about bugs and baseball stats-“ “Just as long as she doesn’t mind getting dirty.” Sara, groggy from the meds post birth, cut him off. He looked up from his daughter to his wife with a sparkle in his eye, “She’s your daughter too so there’s a high probability she won’t mind a little dirt.” Sara smiled a tired smile at him and motioned him over towards her. Grissom moved to her side and gently placed the sleeping baby in her arms. “I thought she would never go to sleep.” Sara laid her head back on her pillow and looked down at her daughter. “She’s perfect Gil. Could you imagine anything better?” She whispered, gripping her little fist into her finger and bringing it up to her lips for a kiss. Grissom bent down and kissed Sara’s hair. “She has your genes, so I wasn’t surprised.” He murmured and she looked up at him, arching up for a kiss. He kissed her softly as they were interrupted, “I knew it! See! I wasn’t wrong!” Greg clambered into the room with a bouquet of flowers and a soft stuffy bear. Grissom groaned and moved away from his wife and daughter to welcome the visitors (family) that had just arrived. “You were a few months too early Greg.” “Well yeah, but I was still right!” Grissom rolled his eyes and enveloped Catherine in a hug. She hugged him tight and whispered in his ear, “You did good Papa. Congratulations.” He hugged her a little tighter. “Thanks Catherine.” “So, are the cigars appropriate now?” Nick walked into the room with a huge grin on his face and enough gifts to stock a gift shop. “Nick, honestly-“ “Look I know smoking is bad for you, but this calls for a celebration!” “I meant the presents Nick” Grissom shoved his hands in his pockets and gestured to all the items Nick brought. “Oh, well-“ Grissom shook his head with a smile, “Never mind, Nick” “Can I hold her?” Greg asked Sara carefully. Sara nodded. Sara gently placed her daughter into Greg’s arms, “Make sure you cradle her head and hold firm on her butt.” Greg was so afraid he’d drop her. (And get fired for it then afterwards Grissom killing him and hiding his body) Greg finally relaxed a bit and started to rock her. “Baby Grissom, I’m sure you’re going to be a prodigy so will you slide me some money when you come up with the answer to String Theory?” Everyone in the room chuckled a little and Greg grinned. “Hey, this isn’t so hard.” Then. She started to scream and flail her arms in the air as angry newborns do. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry I broke her!” Greg’s eyes widened in panic and handed her (quickly) back to Sara, still screaming. Catherine flipped her hair back, “Here, let me have her.” Sara handed her daughter to Catherine and Catherine, being the experienced mother that she is, stopped her crying immediately. “You’ll have to teach me that.” Sara leaned back again on her pillow, clearly still exhausted from bringing her daughter into the world. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” Catherine looked down at baby Grissom in her arms and cooed, “haven’t I sweet girl? Yes, I have.” Catherine brought her up to her face and kissed her nose. “I’d pay really good money to see your daddy change a diaper.” “I’ll have you know Catherine, I’ve been practicing since Sara found out she was pregnant.” Sara rolled her eyes, “I’d come home to boxes of diapers and lots of cuss words. He finally found a rhythm and mastered the art of diaper changing.” “Under 10 seconds.” Grissom grinned, clearly proud of his achievement. Catherine looked back down at the small bundle in her arms, “you won’t have to worry about anything sweet girl. Your mama will learn everything from me and what I don’t know, your dad will find out in a book or on the Internet.” Everyone in the room laughed because she wasn’t wrong. Marlow looked up at Catherine and smiled. “You’re going to be a heartbreaker baby girl.” Grissom narrowed his eyes at Catherine, “She’s not dating until she’s 50.” “Wait until she’s a teenager Gil, then you’ll want her out of your house.” Sara laughed a tired laugh and Grissom knew. “Alright everyone. Thanks for coming, but mom and baby need their rest.” Catherine nodded and handed Marlow back to Sara, side hugging her and kissing the top of her head. “You need anything, you just let me know. I’m only a phone call away.” “Thanks Catherine. As soon as they bust me out of here, I’ll be calling you at all hours of the day trying to figure out how to get her to nap.” Catherine chuckled and made her way to Grissom. “I’m proud of you Gil. You finally lifted your head out of that microscope.” She gave him a small smile and brought him in for a tight hug. “It took a while for me to figure it out, but I’m glad I did.” She rubbed his back and kissed his cheek before making her way out the door. Greg was still unnerved by his moment with Marlow, he was afraid to move. “Come on Greg, it’ll be fine. We’ll teach you.” He nodded to both Grissom and Sara and ran out the door behind Catherine, shaking her head and following him out the door. Leaving Nick standing there. “I’ll hold her when the time is right. I know you’re exhausted so I’ll see myself out.” He smiled at them both and moved to Grissom, clapping him on the back. “So, maybe we can skip the cigars and go for bourbon instead.” Grissom grinned and nodded at him. “That sounds great, Nick.” Nick smiled at him and then back at Sara. “Don’t hurry back. We’ll hold down the fort.” Nick put his hands in his pocket and walked out the door, leaving the little family back to quiet in the hospital room. Grissom moved to sit in the chair next to his wife, moving close and wrapping an arm around her, pulling her to his side. He looked down at his tiny little daughter. “I’m really glad you talked me into this Sara.” “Mmmm. Me too.” Sara yawned as she cuddled her daughter and Grissom took her gently out of her arms and moved to put her back in her bassinet. He looked back at Sara who fell back asleep without a struggle and then down at his daughter. His world had gotten a lot bigger in the past year and he thought back to all the what could have beens and the push pulls and how everything could have been so much different. Looking at the little bundle that he just laid down in the bassinet, he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Being a dad and husband was the greatest accomplishment and gift he could have ever received. Even if it had taken him a while to figure it out.

#csi #gsr #Gil Grissom #Sara Sidle #geek baby #CSI Crime Scene Investigation

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bartramcat · 3 years

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Short Thoughts on CSIV Long Pig

Okay, 2006 was 15 years ago, but I was struck by how hurt Sara looked hearing Gil’s evaluation for what apparently was supposed to be the first time. Hello. It was a Performance Review. He should have gone over that with her (see Evaluation Day), or are we to believe he was so lax at the point with paperwork he didn’t, or he didn’t because they were involved?

Actually, that particular evaluation seemed to me more likely to have been written in earlier seasons--before he knew the root of her. By Season 6, Sara is certainly more more in control of her anger issues, probably, primarily, because Gil is “there.”

No. I do not understand the Kiss Promo. Why tease it? To draw in more GSR fans? Methinks the GSR fans who are going to be watching are already watching, so it made no sense for them to do that, unless they want to piss off GSR fans...probably not the desired outcome.

Otherwise, in some ways, the duel interviews with the bitch lady struck me as mutual love letters about each other. Not in the hearts and flowers sense, but simply an acknowledgement that this is the person I know most in the world, and the person who knows me best, the only person I’ve ever really ever let in. (And, as a by-product, you can believe me about my spouse because I am the only one who really knows/understands him/her. But there is so much truth in it.)

So, instead of the good-bye kiss, we got the final scene, which may be worth more in the larger scheme of things. (Sara was back on her side of the bed for those keeping score.) When Grissom referred to Sara working her “magic,” the way he said it, the way he looked at her was so loaded.

Yeah. These two still work their “magic” on me.

#csi vegas #gil grissom #sara sidle #nora cross #gsr

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uraniumwriting · 3 years

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The Types of Greed

For @flashfictionfridayofficial‘s prompt, Endless Greed! Once again set in GSR, because I needed to start to get back into it. Featuring a little more feral Melandra. WC: 905 words

~~~~~~~~~

I sat there, watching the shadows of the figures dance on a nearby wall. The shadows danced, but when I looked out towards the fire where they stood, the figures themselves were nearly still, with only the occasional shifts from one figure or another. They were speaking of something serious, huddled together in a green mass of thick robes as if they were protecting something. Obviously, they were. They were protecting themselves, protecting the things that they didn’t want me to know before our supposed meeting the next morning.

Focus on finding Janette. Not on them. I had to keep telling myself that, feeling my body itch to go towards the group, try to listen in on a conversation that I had no part in. Maybe it was my training from the docks, maybe it was just how desperate my mind was for answers, but I couldn’t break my attention away from their hidden conversation. There had been enough conversations the past few days that had already rocked my world, made me even more distrusting of what the world around me was really like, but for some reason, for some stupid reason, I wanted more.

It was probably only the hand on my shoulder that stopped me from moving any closer.

The feeling was familiar, but my mind still raced as I turned around, my hand going for my knife until I properly recognized Jet crouched down next to me. He was silent, as we had to be, already within the town we should’ve never even been near, but the look in his eyes told me he had found something, and the papers clutched in his other hand told me exactly what he had found.

Information. I really needed that at the moment.

I resisted the urge to pull the papers out of Jet’s hand, instead holding my hands out for them and waiting until he handed them to me. Business letters. I recognized the form of them almost immediately, with the straight margins and uniform lines. Even the script was almost perfect, but it was the familiarness of the scripts that were in front of me that took my focus, even though I could barely see them through the fringes of light from the fire.

The straightness of the “A��s on one of the pages. The unique flourishes on all of the letters of the other one. Both made my breath stop for a moment, but I still looked to the bottom of the letters, fearful but not surprised of the names that were scrawled out in their distinct writing. Michael. Eden. I didn’t need any last names to understand. Why were the letters, seeming to be sent to each other, both in the same place? I wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter what was on the pages to me, but when I went to hand them back to Jet, he pointed down at the one letter, to a paragraph near the end.

Of course, it was one of the letters from my father.

There are an infinite number of types of greed, it read, and I’m afraid you will find my daughter has the worst sort of greed for this ordeal. For you may call me greedy for safety and peace of mind, and I may call you greedy for control and respect, but they both are what are driving us through this old prophecy. But my daughter, she is greedy for both anonymity and knowledge. Your men have seen her work at the docks, correct? Her greed will be difficult to control; I haven’t been able to, and I’ve been trying to keep her in one place her whole life.

I understand the importance, friend. But I wish you luck. You’ll need it.

My grip was tightening on the letter before I had even finished reading, and truly, I didn’t finish reading the letter at all, shoving it back into Jet’s hands. Caspian had been right. My father had been a part of all of this, but that wasn’t the part that truly made me upset. To call me greedy, just for wanting to stay the nobody that I was meant to be? It sounded like something to come out of Janette’s mouth, rather than my father’s. The handwriting had to have been his, and what would be the point in forging a letter like that?

I looked back out at the mass of figures by the fire, ignoring the feeling of Jet’s hand on my shoulder. My father could be one of them. Eden could be another. Two people that thought they could just tweak a few things and make me do whatever they wanted. As the tears rolled down my face, I resolved myself to one thing:

If they were to call me greedy, then I would be greedy. A kind of greed that I couldn’t really explain, even as my fingers ran along the handle of my knife. Greedy to not let their greed control my decisions. Greedy to prove them right and wrong at the same time, in the most painful way possible. Maybe it was the fatigue getting to my head. Maybe it was a knowledge that I didn’t realize that I had just yet. But I would be ready for them in the morning. I didn’t need Janette for it. I didn’t need any backup for it.

I just needed my knife.

#my writing #am writing #writing snippet #wip #my wip #flash fiction friday #GSR #im gonna do the taglist this time guys just you wait #tho i may have never added some people whoops #i am a professional writeblr

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protozoan-pen-and-pigment · 3 years

Photo

Well, that's that bit done. . .at last!

The linework is at last done for my hilariously late Hallowe'en piece (which, as I probably said before, is just going to be a generic witchy pic) and now she's looking like a bloody L'Oreal commercial! I rather like it though, so it at least has that going for it - the effort has at least been worth it.Next step is obviously giving some colour to this mess of lines; I wouldn't hold your breath over that one though - it's taken me nearly two months just to get it to this stage, and although I wouldn't think colouring would be quite the faff that drawing the outlines was, well, I don't want to risk jinxing the thing and still posting w-i-p updates come Easter! I also have a couple of other projects that I want to turn my attention to which I really want to start building some momentum on this year, most notably my first GSR story featuring Hitomi Takaya (I know there have been a couple of Hitomi stories before, but I'm considering this something of a redux), as well as another comic project which has been close to my heart for a while, but which never came to fruition. I hope to start redressing those scores over at least the coming 12 months, and into next year also.

For now, I think I've earned a break; I've literally been working since around 10.30 this morning (it’s now nearly 18.00, as I write this) and my eyes are going a bit funny. . .@_@

#protozoan #protozoan pen and pigment #work in progress #wip #w-i-p #outline #monochrome #digital art #Digital Illustration #witch #face #hair #progress #its about damn time

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kai-borg · 5 years

Text

VV finds, Ebay grab unboxings, and more bio-related things: Part 3 - Mocs

And now’s where we get into the real meat of these posts. The real filler. That quencher for an appetite I so rarely feed due to my terrible laziness. MOCS!

For the most part the ones in this aren’t that special beyond one who managed to enter my hall of favourite personal mocs. Beyond that they’re just some basic characters, a rather fun little... ‘concept, and a pair managed to spawn a minor joke-’headcanon’ for me.

Firstly I give you, ‘Toa’ Elnas:

Name: Elnas

Element: Iron

Gender: Male

Species: ‘Toa’

Kanohi: Kualsi

Weapon/s: Spear

Bio: Elnas is an interesting character for a Toa. Ancient in build, speech, and what little wisdom he gives, and uncaring, distant, and near disdainful of those around him in personality to a degree even a Toa such as Kopaka would find him... cold.

Despite this Elnas does still protect those under his watch, mercilessly so. Any who dare to attack what is ‘his’, to disturb him, quickly find that they will never be able to attempt such again.

Elnas, while a powerful a Toa, is far from one any consider ‘good’, much less a proper Toa.

When Elnas is not patrolling his village he is either studying, or collecting items and materials which he transports... elsewhere. Wherever that may be though is unknown to his wards. Al that is known is that, despite his location while he is there being unknown, it doesn’t mean his sight decreases any.

Or at least, this is the mask he lets others see.

In truth Elnas, a name cleverly come up with due to its meaning, disrupted detection (technically detection disruption (Elda + Felnas), is actually a being disguising himself as a Toa.

A being better known by the title of, Makuta Avrua, the devourer of knowledge.

While Avrua did take his current form as an attempt to escape from Teridax and his plans, a successful attempt at that, that doesn’t mean he is any better than the conquering betrayer. If anything he is worse.

Avrua, while truthfully similar in goal to Teridax, is also far different.

Avrua has, since the day of his creation, found himself obsessed with knowledge, with learning all he possibly could, and in particular everything he could find on the Great Beings. Both that about them, and from what they left their creations.

Where Teridax wishes to rule the GSR, to overtake and become one of their creations, Avrua wishes to join them, to gain such knowledge he himself can become a Great Being and do as they once did. And he will do anything it takes to gain their knowledge, and reach his goal.

Next off are these fun little two from Sidorak’s species. A duo of infiltration & elimination class dark hunters. A mated (or whatever word you might use for GSR species marriage/romance/whatever) pair to boot! Also a lil’ joke-’headcanon’ along with ‘em!

Ok, so first off comes the headcanon.

As you can see Nille (the name I’ve given to my tall, keetongu orange, green, and gold friend) is rather... ‘extravagant’ looking. Especially in comparison to his much smaller, more ‘dulled-down’ mate, Guhra.

At first, this wasn’t really planned, just started building and once I was done I realized how well, like, blatantly different the two were. Combine that with the somewhat more ‘feminine’ styled ‘hair’ I’d given to the second, smaller one of the two, and, well... that section of my brain that keeps spitting out all my weird character ideas, AU’s, and everything related started kicking! And from that emerged my newest ‘headcanon’.

Basically I kinda had this idea that, what if Sidorak’s species were kind of like peacocks, or similar birds. You know, the male’s are real colourful, flamboyant, and flashy. Also typically probably larger than the females (though this does not mean it’s by a high percent, nor that said females are any weaker (if not even stronger)), and typically try to gain a mate through lots of posturing, looks, and giving them random little (and sometimes big) gifts all in an attempt to better curry favour with them.

Heck, this even works with, and honestly kinda makes sense with Sidorak’s own courting attempts towards Roodaka.

Every scene he’s in he’s acting flamboyant in a way. Posturing, speaking, and even moving in ways oh-so purposely done to show himself off. Make him look more impressive. Draw attention to his literally polished looks.

And then there’s his gifts, such as literally giving Roodaka what basically amounted to full control of the Visorak hordes. Sure, she basically already had it, but he actually acknowledge it instead of, y’know, deluding himself that he held the actual power over them.

There’s also his promises, the way he speaks and acts around her, and quite a good bit of other little things. I mean, heck, if I really wanted I could even consider the fact they had some, like, crazy goal or whatever to rule their entire universe/world as a sort of gift to Roodaka.

Y’know, showing his dedication by literally giving her the entire world as a gift.

Though going by this logic it also means Sidorak himself was kinda gay/bi due to him, you know, going after Roodaka. One of the most bloody extravagant characters out there in the canon bionicle universe. Like, yeesh! Her build, her stance, the aura she projects, even her friggin’ voice all scream ‘extravagance’!

I dunno, I just really liked the idea for some reason once I came up with it, and couldn’t help but keep it. (Though the Sidorak bit also helped said choice. XD)

Name: Guhra

Gender: Female

Species: Steltian

Weapon/s: Dual modifiable-energy launchers

Bio: Guhra’s more the heavy hitter of the team. Surprising to some due to her difference in size to Nille (though far from it for him), though due to her less than noticeable build she does exceed in more visible/crowded infiltration work

Name: Nille

Gender: Male

Species: Steltian

Weapon/s: Hidden Y-blades/shields along his forearms

Bio: Nille, despite colour and size, is the infiltration expert of the team. His looks, and lifetime of cultivating the necessary skills and personality to be as flamboyant a gentleman as possible have lead to him being quite skilled in the necessary etiquette to easily sway higher ranking officials, steer conversations, and easily dismiss suspicions towards himself with but a few touch words, and the proper posturing.

Thirdly you have, while still a Moc, less so one built for the character than to show off an idea/concept. A rather infectious one at that.

Shown above is an example of an individual infected with a partially developed case of a disease known as the ‘Plagued Vines virus’, or, as it is more commonly referred to as, the ‘Zombie virus’.

The Plagued Vines virus is a highly infectious, fatal, highly adaptable, and near incurable disease. As shown the individual carrying a partially developed case of the ‘Plagued Vines virus’ has suffered multiple physical changes. From heavy growth of a black, oily flesh-like organic material, metallic spikes and claws, the beginnings of various, randomly positioned extra limbs, and the emergence of the virus namesake, pitch black, vine-like veins beginning to emerge from the individuals various facial orifices.

As mentioned above, the vine-like veins that emerge from an infected individuals facial cavities are where the diseases namesake comes from. This is due to them regularly being the first physical changes an infected individuals undergoes, and the full activation of the diseases mental takeover,

A Plagued Vines infection is very difficult to detect before this initial physical development. This causes most cases of it to result in a fatal conclusion even when the rare cure is developed due to the emergence of these ‘vines’ indicating the hosts brain to have already been fully consumed.

Infected individuals show little sapience, but high sentience when alone, or in groups numbering less than 20. Creating crude traps/ambush locations, plans, and being able to track prey for long distances despite attempts to cover its tracks.

In groups of 20 and above it has been noted that infected individuals begin to develop varying degrees of sapience. Allowing for even greater efficiency in gathering food, and infecting others to further increase their packs size.

Fortunately in most cases the elimination of a quarter of the packs is usually enough to highly decrease their collective sapience, and half is enough to fully erase it.

Addendum: A pack of 90 infected individuals was discovered. This pack showed a much higher sapience than even an uninfected’s average, the ability to partially vocalise words, and were developing the materials needed to create various weapons, armours, and traps.

They were quickly eliminated, removing the possibility of further pack, and collective intelligence growth, but during this it was noted near two thirds of the pack had to be eliminated before they began to show a notable decrease in sapience. Fortunately once a loss of 3 quarters was reached a full decrease was noted.

Infected individuals display notable aggression towards others of their kind not in their designated ‘pack’, and a focus more on physical consumption, with a focus on meat and metal, which has been hypothesized as necessary to further the diseases physical growths, than spreading of their infection.

In truth the only reason the infection is as dangerous as it is, having required the destruction of entire galaxies to eliminate outbreaks of it, is because of how quickly it physically overtakes infected individuals that die. Requiring mere minutes to begin physical emergence, and revival of any killed by an infected individual that aren’t quickly burned.

Due to its highly adaptable nature it is nearly impossible to find a universal cure for the virus. The disease practically rewrites its genetic structure for every planet it shows up on.

The Plagued Vines virus is even more so dangerous due to how its outbreaks begin. All of which have been noted to be started soon after a successful meteor strike on the soon after virus ridden plant.

Its origins may be unknown, but the fact that this is a truly alien disease is not, and the danger its form of spreading poses, being near undetectable before outbreak, make it one of the most dangerous viruses out there.

And last, but oh so far from least, my favourite Moc of the bunch (discounting Lhikan’s trio who’ll have their own separate post), Tolzak, ‘skakdi’ of psionics.

AAAAHHH! I just can’t help but love her so much! Her builds greebles, colours, shaping, even the way her weapons store are all just so... perfect in my mind!

And, what’s even better, is the fact that she lets me use an AU I jokingly came up with a good while back after reading a certain what-if post about swapping species sizes, and took the base concept on my own odd little route.

A little hint right here and early is, as you’ll notice, Tolzak is rather... odd looking for a Skakdi. A bit too tall. A bit too thin. A bit too... colourful. And then there’s here little... additions. Small, heel-esque structures naturally built into her feet, her odd, built in, hair like head adornment.

All things less so found in her species, than in a certain others.

Name: Tolzak

Element: Psionics

Gender: Female

Species: ‘Skakdi’

Weapon/s: Tonfa style, curved blade, & dual throwing knives

Bio: Tolzak is an outlier for her species.

Where most Skakdi are cruel, violent, and aggressive, Tolzak is surprisingly calm, sociable, and at times even gentle with others around her. This of course doesn’t mean she doesn’t mean she doesn't have, nor show said typical Skakdi attributes. If anything she can at times be even worse than most of her species.

Tolzak typically acts as a sort of... hero in a way, or more-so a mercenary for higher with strict morals, aligned only with the ‘lighter’ end of said compass, and a willingness to both take jobs, and offer a hand in additional tasks she might spot without pay if the reasoning behind such is both reasonable, and honourable enough.

Now, while such may be an odd sight for the denizens of the standard bionicle-universe, for hers it is much less so.

Yes, you’ve read that right. Tolzak is actually a displaced denizen of a different universe, though she herself didn’t know that at first.

The universe Tolzak originally came from is an... odd one. Even for one of any connection to the bio!verse.

In her universe, to put it simply, everything has been reversed in a way.

Where in the main!verse The GSR is the species home, and Bara-Magna the world they’ve fled from in a way. Where the Great Beings left themselves, and the other inhabitants of their planet to die while their creations lived and traveled. Where the Toa were heroes, the Matoran their ‘universes’ keepers, and the Makuta, and all else villains.

All has been reversed in hers.

The GSR, while existent, was made not to act as a travelling, humanoid ‘ship’ from which their creations could live. No, it was made to preserve them. The Great Beings, the Agori, the Glatorian, any who were fortunate to make it in, while the rest remained upon the devastated planet with the GB’s creations.

To act as their new world until their old could be rebuilt.

That’s where the GSR’s species came into play. The Makuta to act as rebuilders of the environment, the repopulators of animals, the various other species the more hands on/detail workers, caretakers, and spreaders of the Makuta’s creations.

They were this universes ‘heroes’.

But this left the Matoran, the Toa and Turaga, the usual heroes requiring new roles. More villainous roles.

They were the keepers of order, those who ensured everything went to the Great Beings plan, and if not, then those who would bring about a reset to it.

The reset is also where another difference between this universe, and the main differs. Where the original has its ‘world’ centered around the Ignika, the Mask of life, as that which keeps it alive, that resets it when needed, her world is centered around the Vahi, the mask of time, as its reset button.

The GB’s, upon the completion of their ‘saviours’, the GSR and their worlds rebuilders, created an additional device which they activated upon their departure.

A large, indestructible machine, hidden behind barriers only their Toa should’ve been able to pass, and designed to use their two strongest masks, the Vahi, and the Ignika, to reset all life, and the world itself back to its ‘original’ (i.e. the time of the machine’s activation) point whenever their creations begin going against their plans, and to add minor... changes to said beings in attempt to gain different results.

During these reiterations a point eventually came where the GB’s creations were made more organic, to a degree they truthfully were not that far from the remaining Agori and Glatorians in their ‘mechanics to organics’ mix.

In fact they were at such a similar level that they gained the genetic functions needed to physically reproduce in but a handful of further reiterations. A useful, and apparently permanent achievement seeing as how the GB truly had no way to otherwise repopulate the species if they died off beyond a full global reset.

But with this newfound ability soon came the possibility of hybrids.

You head that right folks! Hybrids of the various species came into being in this universe, Tolzak being one of them. A Skakdi Vortixx hybrid at that, which does help explain her physical differences in comparison to a ‘proper’ Skakdi.

Tolzak was sent to her current universe, one of the more standard ones during one of the numerous attempts at resistance seemingly every ‘reset’ has happen once the Toa are sent down to begin it.

During her 'generation’, Brutaka, Axonn, and a good number of others had defected from the Order of Mata-Nui (OOMN), the organization now dedictaed to ensuring the Great Beings wills are successfully followed, even if that means they themselves most lose all.

As is to be expected though for such a group, many tend to defect, and resist their will once it comes down to the choice of initiating a reset.

While they failed in their attempts, as was truthfully usual, Brutaka decided to attempt to save at least one member of their resistance, already fatally wounded himself, before the Toa succeeded.

He chose Tolzak. Just barely managing to drop her through a portal into a separate universe as the Toa activated the Great Beings machine. This left her, while physically unchanged beyond some ‘youthening’, mentally muddied. Much of her memories shattered, hazy, and otherwise unrecallable upon her awakening.

This is also why she so readily allowed herself to fall under the moniker of, ‘just an odd Skakdi’. At the time she herself didn’t known otherwise, and while she has regained much of her memory, having pieced together what she could, and slowly been clearing up and recalling the rest, enough to remember she is not a true member of her current universe, and her hybrid status, she still is more than ready to continue carrying said moniker.

It is truly a much easier option than attempting to explain the truth of her origins, and the actual reason behind her physical ‘oddities’.

So far Tolzak’s world has gone through near 500 000 separate reiterations, though she herself came from the 35 372nd reiteration, and upon her ‘escape’ from the world was never reborn.

Also, here’s a little bit of a closer look at her weapon storage, and just why I find it so... perfect.

I mean, heck! Look at it! Everything's perfectly aligned, her curved blade is stably positioned, and I can even fit its cross axle in right there at the top due to the Metru torso’s build!

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bisexualstokes-archive · 5 years

Note

Is it too personal or may I ask what the long story that got you back into George is?

honestly i could use this ask as a way to really sit back and reflect on what’s going on in my life so yeah here’s the story:

(warnings for depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts)

so going way back to my junior year of high school, september 2009-may 2010, that was like…one of the happiest years of my life. I had some really great friends at the time, family life (from what i remember) was more or less going okay (although i remember my parents were pissing me off when i was in driver’s ed), i was getting out more, things changed in my youth group and over all it was just a great year?? and CSI?? Season 10?? was so good??

and then my senior year of high school started, I got into some shit with not just one, but TWO of my friends, one of which I was like..in love with, and I was getting scared because Things Were Changing and I had all this pressure on me to get a job, go to college, etc, etc. (I also did start a job in the summer between my junior and senior years and I had a crush at this job and our relationship got Complicated and we never did anything, I sort of pushed him away cause I thought I was too young to be with someone who was a couple years older than me, and I was just scared about it in general.) But I was still watching CSI. I still loved it. I still loved Nick Stokes/George Eads.

And then came my first year of college, again, still watching CSI, and I was trying–oh god I was trying so hard to keep my anxiety under control as everything was changing, I was in a brand new school where I knew like…nobody (well a few people here and there–I went to a popular community college in my vicinity so I did see a few people from high school) and again getting this pressure to succeed in college cause college just wasn’t a thing people did in my family–not until everyone began to realize how important it was (some of my cousins went back to school and got degrees and such)

and I was also trying to do my best to keep in touch with my friends, trying to mend the cracks in the two friends I had beef with, but another friend–who I had since seventh grade at that point–and I were getting closer and closer (she’s my absolute BEST friend at this point in my life tbh and uhm yeah I don’t know where I would be without her but I’ll get to that later)

and I was still watching CSI, still in love with nick, etc etc–but I was also getting into another obsession…Doctor Who

Sophmore year of college?? I think this is where depression was starting to get to me a bit.

I had absolutely NO idea what I wanted to with my life. Family still pressuring me to succeed, things were getting Complicated with that guy at work, I started another job–so I was working two jobs at one point in my life and going to school which is uh Fun. I can’t remember much but I do remember in general being a bit freaked out over having to change schools cause that was a New thing and I was not good with change (because of my anxiety)

SO then we come to my junior year of college, and so began my dangerous Apathy phase, where I didn’t give a shit that I was failing tests because I wasn’t studying because Doctor Who basically consumed my life. I didn’t care about myself–It’s such a little thing, but I stopped brushing my hair at one point and wasn’t taking care of my body the way I should have–I had never gone to the doctor since my high school days, so I never had regular check-ups

things at this point had ended with my first job and I’ve never seen or spoken to that one guy that I have Regrets with–to this day I wish we gave it a shot tbh, cause he seemed like a geuninely caring, nice guy? (not without his faults of course)

and also uh…I think this was the year I stopped having a regular period.

I’m talking like…I didn’t have a period for months, and I sure as hell wasn’t pregnant

I also stopped watching CSI, for many reasons, for the way GSR was being handled, for the way Nick was getting the promise of all these interesting storylines but NEVER DID and watching Nick/George obviously going through his own shit (cause he definitely gained weight in that season–and NO JUDGEMENT FROM ME TBH cause I’m, uh…technically classified as obese myself), and again, I was also SUUUPER obsessed with doctor who to the point where it was probably hindering my life

at some point in 2015 i did get my period again and was like “OH LOOK I’M ALL GOOD ON THAT FRONT” probably cause this is when I entered my first almost-relationship, a frequent customer at the store I used to work at asked me out and it didn’t work out in the end cause he was um…idk just Not For Me (and a gross ass kisser) but then after that one period, it disappeared again.

OH but in 2015, when CSI ended, I did watch the finale–Immortality even though I was SUPER pissed about Nick being gone (I did go back and watch just his final scene and cried like a baby) and then proceeded to rewatch grave danger for the first time in years at that point–I actually documented that on my blog here lol (and I did all of that instead of studying for a test that I failed the next day lmao)

so blah blah blah had tons of shit going on until 2016, which was possibly the lowest point of my life in terms of depression/anxiety, even though I had finally graduated college, I got a full time job (the same one I’m in now, three years later, very successful I might add–I just got promoted last year and I’m held in very high esteem by many of my superiors so it gets happy)

but in this full time job, I was moved to third shift for a few months, and was forced to work with this one woman who I like DESPISED–although not completely at the time, but to this day I really just can’t stand her (thankfully she quit lol)

so the third shift transition was rough enough, but at least I was into a new show–Person of Interest and I was having the Time of My Life with it but it really did start getting me to think about my depression and mental health, which up until that point I had been ignoring, despite that one friend I mentioned earlier having pointed out to me many times throughout 2015-2016 that I needed to go to therapy (and I just didn’t think it would work, I didn’t want to do it, my social anxiety was screaming FUCK NO the whole time)

also the trump election thing happened and uhm yeah there was that. Got into a LOT of heated discussions…and lost like ALL respect for my step-father (who you’ll still see me refer to as “dad” but i’m pointing out he’s my step father in this instance because I would be ashamed to be blood related to him)

and despite our uh, troubles, my dad did try to get me to watch Macgyver, telling me that “hey, nick stokes is in it!”

but my depressed dumbass was like “oh really? nice” AND THEN DIDN’T WATCH IT LIKE A FUCKING MORON

and on top of that, my house got INFESTED with mice and my parents did nothing outside of setting up mouse traps but it was getting to a point where we found like…five mice in a day and I was starting to see them in the daylight (which is a sign you have an INFESTATION) and ALL of my belongings were getting mouse shit and pee on them (my room is right next to the kitchen) and I ended up purging A LOT of things (including a binder of friendship from the one friend I had trouble with in senior year–which man that hurt to get rid of ((side note, you know what really fucking hurts the most about breaking away from that friend? we’ve known each other since pre-school and I mentioned in tags before about how we do still talk and shit and i am one of her wedding bridesmaids and shit but yeah…not like it used to be)))

and i was getting to a point where I honestly?? just wanted?? to die??

I would say it was like, late 2016 where I was even starting to think of scenarios where I could just…like…disappear? kill myself? I just did not want to exist anymore

2017 came along, fresh start, I kept telling myself. Still had mice in the mouse, but I was fully aware of my mental health issues at this point, and was starting to really listen to my friend more and more, really starting to consider going to therapy (especially now that i had health insurance)

(and also I was beginning to realize I have Feelings for this friend as well–although I gotta wonder if it’s actual romantic love and just not intense friendship cause we really are close friends but like…I could also see us as more? if she were open to it? but I know she doesn’t feel that way about girls and she’s got her own shit to deal with, and i respect that so I never push it or bring it up)

and then? twin peaks: the return came along. Season 3, episode 3, “Call for Help” a fucking masterpiece of an episode and something just…CLICKED in me. Something made me realize, I need to call for help

and so I did.

2017 was the year of therapy, in which I talked about a lot of the shit above, and then I stopped going in I think 2018? when the therapist moved away, but my sessions were getting farther and farther apart anyway, and I felt like I was finally in a better place in my life. I had more coping mechanisms, more awareness of how to handle myself, and I began to realize I really needed to take care of myself more

so i went to the doctor for the period thing, seems like it was some hormonal imbalance cause i was put on birth control to get my hormones back in order (this is my first month off of them so fingers crossed it still works) and by the time august/september rolled around?

I started writing again

and I’m not talking fan fiction, I suddenly had the inspiration to write this original story idea I have for a series that was HEAVILY inspired by CSI–in which the third book in the series is about a guy getting buried alive (and a girl trying to save him but doesn’t because ANGST but that’s another long ass story lol)

which, naturally, made me want to watch grave danger again, for the first time in three years. and then…I suddenly wanted to watch more csi?? from the very beginning??

and so I watched the first four episodes of season 1 again, and Nick/George was back in my life again. And it felt SO FREAKING GOOD.

Then, I watched Macgyver because I wanted to see new George content, and immediately fell in love with jack

Caught up with Macgyver and then finished my csi rewatch, this time watching all of season 13 (which I STILL HAVE MIXED FEELINGS OVER just like season 9) and 14-15 (which i regret not watching when it first aired cause it’s SO GOOD)

and I’m not saying like…Nick/Jack/George is the sole cause of my happiness, the cure for my depression/anxiety (cause that shit never goes away, you just learn to manage it better), nor is he the sole love of my life or anything, but…he’s a huge part of who I am, because in those years, when I was struggling, I lost myself. I lost Nick. But now I found myself again, I re-discovered my passion for Nick Stokes, and i’m just as happy as I was back in 2009/2010, and life is just so good

#aaaaaaand now i'm crying #just...fuck man #i may have gone into uh...TOO much detail here #but honestly maybe not even enough?#but yeah trust me when I say #i'm happy to have nick/jack/george in my life #cause you know that quote nick says about warrick #about warrick being a huge source of strength?#that's how nick is for me #personal #nonny #about me #2019 #reflections

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