hiatus over hi. i wasnt the best at it, but i did develop a complex that makes me feel like maybe im an okay human.
Did i have a friend text me "we really shouldnt be friends anymore"? yeah, sure did, check it off the bucket list.
did i move a friend out of her bfs (into my own home mind you) just for her to move back in with him the next day? certainly! still get those brownie points i bet.
have I looked at my finances with gritted teeth and rejoice after cancelling my HSA? oh fuck yeah buddy.
Am I happy? weirdly more than ever. Life is a strange thing. but we've made it this far<3
⚠️WARNING⚠️ possible manga spoilers (future careers)!
WC: 1.2k
“—has more DPS but really weak defense so I think we’ll be okay.”
It takes every ounce of your self-control not to giggle out loud and blow your cover when you enter the apartment and hear your boyfriend’s soft tone from the back room as he speaks to the fans diligently watching his live stream.
You tiptoe across the carpet, keeping a steady grip on the white box balanced in your hands as you navigate through the dark apartment, following the light source coming through the crack in the door. You hear the incessant keyboard clicks getting louder the closer you get to his office. The crack of the door is just large enough to see your boyfriend’s pale hands dancing swiftly across the keys and a portion of one of his monitors. You vaguely recognize the game as Overwatch, one of the games he has been playing more often lately. He had mentioned something about a Halloween loot box and new D.Va skin but you were hardly paying attention, to be honest. You just like hearing his calming voice sometimes, oblivious to that actual video game terminology he’s speaking about.
“Alright, one more match and I’ll switch to something else. It's getting late and the queue times are getting ridiculous.”
You stifle a chuckle just imagining the responses his fans must be giving him in the chatroom. From your experience occasionally watching Kodzuken’s streams yourself, you know there is likely a string of people begging him for ‘just one more game’ or ‘please play this one next!’
Kenma is well loved by his large fanbase and his own dedication to them is clear.
Despite today marking the gamer’s 23rd birthday, Kenma had refused to change his usual streaming schedule or even end early. He generally kept private information, including birthdays and relationships, a secret, claiming his fans were only interested in watching him play games, nothing more. How the man remains completely oblivious to the fact his fans are enamored with him rather than just his gaming skills remains a mystery to you and all of his friends. You are positive the fans would be absolutely flooding his social media with birthday wishes and gifts if they knew what today is.
But alas, Kenma refused any of you and Kuroo’s suggestions of nice dinners or small gatherings with friends, claiming he has to maintain his regular Friday streaming schedule and that his birthday is “just another day.”
Hence why you stand outside of the door of his office now.
With the help of his loyal (read: devious) best friend Kuroo, you were able to secure a copy of your boyfriend’s apartment keys and sneak in with a fresh apple pie you had pre-ordered from Kenma’s favorite local bakery. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat and lingering worries about his impending response before gingerly pushing open the door and stepping into the room.
With his headphones on and facing his screen, Kenma does not immediately notice your entrance. His slender fingers continue tapping keys and shifting the mouse rapidly as he shoots at enemies on the screen. It is only when he glances over at his second monitor to see the chat flying by with variations of ‘oh my god did someone just walk in,’ ‘there’s someone in his house!’ and ‘is that his s/o!?’ that Kenma realizes something is off and his head whips in your direction, clearly shocked to see you standing there.
You offer a sheepish grin as you step forward, slowly lowering the opened box in your hands so he can see the contents.
“Happy birthday, Kenma,” you sweetly cheer.
Unbeknownst to you both, the chatroom nearly crashed with the sheer volume of surprised messages. Naturally, they vary from ‘oh my god they’re so cute!’ to ‘TODAY IS KODZUKEN’S BIRTHDAY!?’
Kenma seems at a loss for a few moments, golden eyes darting back and forth between the warm apple pie in your hands topped with a single yellow candle to your bright, loving smile. Finally, his tense body seems to relax and a small smile graces his lips as he holds your gaze.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
He rises to his feet to gently take the box from your hands and place it on the desk, stream forgotten as he makes his way back to you. You tilt your head, just about to ask what he’s doing when he gently takes your hands in his own and places a soft peck on your lips. Your face heats up at the rare display of affection and the wide grin stretching across your face causes your cheeks to ache. For a few moments, as the two of you hold eye contact, it feels you are the only people in the world and you find yourself wanting to savor and carve this moment into your memory for the rest of your life. It is only the muffled robotic voice announcing “defeat” from Kenma’s headset that interrupts the moment, causing him to glance back at his set-up with a surprised expression, having clearly forgotten that he was in the middle of a match, let alone still recording a stream. Just by briefly looking over the chat he can tell his fans have half a million questions that will be plaguing his Twitter feed for weeks to come. Some fans are even asking for your social media handles and asking if you two will ever do a stream together.
Kenma sighs and returns to his chair, rolling forward to sit in front of his computer once more. You awkwardly linger for a moment, slightly disappointed to see your boyfriend returning to his work so soon. You understand, though. This is his career that he had built from the ground up for himself and your involvement was definitely not something he had planned for. With a slightly heavy heart you make a move to leave the room just as quietly as you had entered but Kenma’s hand shoots out to grab your own before you can take more than half a step.
“Everyone, thank you for coming to today’s stream but unfortunately I will have to end early to spend the rest of my birthday with my partner.”
Your heart stutters at his announcement.
The chatroom is once again flooded with comments, most of which are cooing about how cute Kodzuken is being and how uncharacteristically happy he looks now that you’re here. He pays them no mind however, and swiftly shuts down his streaming program and logs out of Overwatch with one hand, Halloween loot boxes long forgotten. Once his screen turns black and the flashy RGB lights of his computer dim, his cat-like eyes are back on you, lacing your fingers together and gently squeezing your hand.
“Do you want to do anything specific,” he asks.
The giggle that unwittingly escapes your lips sounds absolutely school girlish and you would be embarrassed if you weren’t too busy feeling absolutely elated.
“It’s your birthday, KenKen; you should be the one deciding.”
He looks away, thoughtful for a moment before his eyes shift back to you in question.
“...can we play Animal Crossing? You left your Switch here last time so I charged it.”
Even after a full evening of video games, Kenma still wants to play. His innocent passion leaves your chest feeling fuzzy and you nod your consent.
I am going to visit my family and friends back where I’m from for Christmas. I am leaving this morning, arriving sometime in the afternoon, and then staying for only four full days after that. I will keep you all posted if anything happens.
As such, I have the queue going and I’ll pop in whenever I can, but “regular programming”, as it were, is on hold until the 28th, when I return home.
Thanks for understanding, I’ll be popping in as I can, and y’all have a great Christmas if you celebrate and happy holidays no matter what you do or don’t celebrate! love y’all. ❤️
Middle Eastern anon 1/2. You were spot on abt other countries finding US online liberal faketivists a joke. I'm Egyptian and my blood was boiling watching all the liberals on Tumblr blogging in joy abt the Suez fiasco (which is our freaking fault, not Evergreen's, for which WE the ppl r paying, not our dictator or his government). Countless posts from faketivists hoping the Suez stays shut thinking they're sticking it to "capitalism" when it's very real ppl getting harmed.
The anti-capitalist Tumblr morans have no idea how badly the lives of Egyptians and eventually themselves would be affected if the Suez Canal, one of the busiest waterways in the world, was shut down. The canal is a major source for Egypt’s economy, earning it at least $5.5 billion in revenues. And even the few nations that have very little to do with the Suez route will be affected. Many manufacturers in Europe relying on component products in containers on either the Evergiven or ships stuck waiting in the queues. The same can be assumed to be true in Asia and elsewhere.
It has been suggested that about 1/10th of global trade passes through the canal every year. My wild assumption is the Suez is closed for a full year the cost will be around 3% of Global GDP. And if Global GDP is now at about 80 trillion, then then the cost is about 2.5 rillion globally. Paradoxically the most effective and economical way to conduct global trade is to rely on giant containers ships, or Triple Es such as the Evergiven. The oil industry was probably the only industry that benefited from the Suez Canal crisis.
Socialists are human garbage. Hilariously, many socialists here praise the capitalist countries of western Europe that have lots of social programs. Then they advocate socialism, wrongly using these predominantly capitalist countries as their model. These numbskulls brag that they are “full on communist,” and they have no idea what they are talking about because they don't know history. Real socialism is worker ownership of the means of production. If you can find any countries today that have something this stupid, you get one free internet cookie. There is ZERO communist country that has done well, which is why the USSR and China abandoned it and created all kinds of capitalist reforms, to save themselves from starvation. The fundamental tenet of socialism is proletariat control of the means of production, which pretty much no country in the world has because this is an ass-backward ideology that’s not grounded in economic reality and it only ever leads to starvation and poverty.
Failing infrastructure is the first indicator of a failing socialist country because who wants to take care of stuff that doesn’t belong to anybody? Who wants to be careful and efficient if they aren’t going to get more pay for doing more and they won’t get paid less for screwing up? That’s why socialization of the means of production and distribution is a disaster in most cases. Socialistic policies didn’t allow for the upkeep of the infrastructure in Venezuela, the ability to even move their oil has been rendered useless. Pumps, piping, and storage are completely furbared. The overall price drop and lower demand on top of having to build the system from scratch.
Capitalist world allows you to leave whenever you like it, but in the Socailist world, they want to control you, so they refuse you to leave. When the USSR went back to capitalism, emigration out of Russia drastically went down.
Whenever a young socialist claim that they will get socialism right “this time”: (translation) it may be hell on earth, but l will be in power!
Have you seen this meme?
Numbskulls think that under socialism they will still have the same selections and privileges that they have under capitalism. In the early 1990’s, during Gorbachev’s rule, there were Soviet Ministers who were in the US and they were brought to a regular supermarket and they were astounded by the variety of food. And, supposedly, some even wept because they realized that everything that they had been told about the United States was a lie.
Besides the homeless, the poorest people in the Capitalist west are among the upper 1% of the wealthiest people to ever walk the Earth. Access to luxury and technology for the poor and working class is highest in the locations that have the greatest inequality. That’s why people are desperate to be among the 1,000,000 poor people allowed to immigrate to a country that produces a Jeff Bezos or a Mark Zuckerberg, even if they can never aspire to 1/10,000th the wealth of such individuals. They know that even the most modest of successes will result in their having access not just to electricity and running water, but to air conditioning and 1000 channel entertainment packages. And before you know it they will take those luxuries for granted.
Most poor people support capitalism because, although they are relatively poor, they are not stupid, and they know capitalism lifts all boats [including theirs!]
Remember kids, There's nothing under capitalism that says you cannot regulate, tax, or have community fees to provide services. Capitalism is an economic policy not a political one, there are many political policies that incorporate capitalism, but capitalism itself is merely economic policy.
My main is DruidX, which has been my handle on nearly every single platform ever since.... well, since the World Wide Web became a feasible thing to have in one’s home ^.^; Because this is the blog to which all other random interesting things are thrown, I thought I’d keep in theme with “Dru reblogs stuff”, for I am Dru... and I am reblogging stuff XD
2. Any sideblogs? If you have them name them and why you have them?
Technically @/dru-reblogs-stuff is a sideblog already. It gets more personal stuff, and also everything I like that’s interesting to me. I keep thinking I should narrow it down further though, and make seperate fashion & star wars blogs, because I rb that stuff on the regular...
@/druidx is my main, and is my Writeblr blog, for, well, all my writing, other people’s writing, and writing related advice/ resources.
@/dru-plays-starbound is the blog I used to rb Starbound stuff, and also post my starbound builds to. I haven’t updated it in a while, thought there’s lots of stuff still to post... I just haven’t had the inclination to fight with a graphics program and screenshots.
@/nine-blessed-hero breaks my naming scheme sadly, but this is now my dedicated Elder Scrolls blog, for art and fanfic. It’s also not as well kept as I would like it to be (I’ve got 600 items in draft to read though and comment on, so it’s slow going).
Finally there is the essentially abandoned @/things-my-rm-says-to-her-lego. This started as an out-of-context quote blog for things my roommate muttered while sorting/ building the old Lego her parents dropped off ~October 2020. I have no idea what to do with it now said roommate is no longer saying strange things to her Lego...
3. How long have you’ve been on tumblr?
I’ve just passed my one year anniversary, 18 May -- or at least, the anniversary of my first post which I’m sure was made only a week or so after I joined. Basically I joined up not long after the Lockdown was made official in the UK.
4. Do you have a queue tag?
Yes! It’s just “q”, because I am both lazy and basic.
5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?
As mentioned above, I joined not long after the Lockdown was made official in the UK. Because I had more time, I was looking back at old works and wanting both to share them and to get advice on how to get better. I’d heard somewhere that Tumblr was to writing as DeviantArt is to art, so I figured I may as well join and see what I could get out of the experience. Again, because I suddenly had more time, I bought TESIV: Oblivion on Steam and started to get into TESblr as well as Writeblr (which incidentally, is how I met the wonderful Corky ^.^).
6. Why did you choose your icon?
I wanted something that reflected my interests (boy do I love Tea :D), but also wasn’t fussy, so I found a site filled with free SVG icons and picked this one out. I’ve had a lot of complements on it, so clearly it was a good choice ^.^ I’ve tried to keep the theme of teapots over all my blogs.
7. Why did you choose your header?
I don’t think any of my blogs have a header because I just couldn’t find anything I liked?
8. What’s your post with the most notes?
Across them all, it’s a “Last Line Tag” game one, posted Sep 22 2020 with 328 notes.
9. How many mutuals do you have?
28, across the board.
10. How many followers do you have?
I feel that’s somewhat defeating the point of not having them public. Let’s just say I have enough.
11. How many people do you follow?
181; just enough to keep things interesting, but not enough to be overwhelmed.
12. Have you ever made a shitpost?
No; the most I’ve done would have been an incorrect quote.
13. How often do you use tumblr each day?
I’m currently working from home, so it’s a permanent fixture on one of my background virtual desktops, ready to be flipped over to when work is dull or when I’m procrastinating writing.
14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?
I think someone tried to insinuate I’d offended them once, but they hid in the tags and I could never work out if it was my tags they were arguing against, or the post in general (it was a rb). But generally no; I’m Internet Old and just done with the Drama so I don’t engage.
15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?
They can jog on. If I think it’s important, then I will chose to rb it, but telling me I’m a horrible person if I don’t? That’s a surefire way to ensure I dislike you and your cause, and will ignore you out of spite.
16. Do you like tag games?
<Points to this post> I fuckin’ love tag game, my dude. I’m bad at doing them sometimes, but I honestly adore when people are thinking about enough to say “You know who’d want to do this? Dru!”.
17. Do you like ask games?
Slightly less so, because again, I’m bad at keeping up with these things, and a full askbox hangs over my head like the sword of Damocles. But that you chose to poke me with a question about me or my writing that you’re curious about, well; it does warm my heart.
18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?
im-a-seraph-winging-it, rewrit, adelinewriting (though she’s no longer on Tumblr) maybe? idk ^.^; I guess not knowing is one of the nicer things about Tumblr; it makes everything a little more personal.
19. Do I have a crush on a mutual?
Yes. I’m not saying who (it’s sort of embarrassing to be the age I am and have a crush), but they have a unique and exquisite writing style, and I care for it very much.
20. Tags?
I’ll do my usual bods: @aquadestinyswriting @alias-levi , but I’m also curious about @homesteadchronicles @writtenbyrain and @scribeofred (0 pressure tho! I know this is an unsolicited tag)
[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.
Image 2 - A page from the Entertainment section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 30th January 2021. Full image description and transcript below cut. End ID.]
Read the fic here!
The Capital Herald - Saturday 30th January, 2021
Entertainment, page 13
Top story (continued from facing page):
-talk filming, fans and family with 'Three Card Monte' star
-finished, and hotly tipped for several major awards come the season, what does Dame Angela have in the pipeline? She's tight-lipped, but the question makes her smile.
“Naturally I don't want to give too much away – an actress must maintain some mystery lest the camera fall out of love with her – but I can tell you I have several options in mind, and some of them are very exciting.” But is it a question of which project to take on, or which to take on first? “Well, of course, there are no guarantees, but... yes, I imagine some of them will wait.”
It's an unusual level of power for an actor to wield, but at this stage in her career Dame Angela is more than entitled to wield it. How does she feel about winning the showbiz game so spectacularly?
“Oh, I feel as though I've been playing a game of my own devising, to which even I don't know the rules.” She laughs. “No, but really, I don't think I've ever thought of it as playing a game. I go up for the parts I think are interesting or challenging, and I've been fortunate enough to get them more often than not. Then, when the part is finished, I move on to the next thing I want to do. There's no strategy, not really, not on my part. Naturally, my agent might tell you something very different!”
Having the right agent can certainly be the key to success in the entertainment industry, and Dame Angela has been with Derek Mette, of MetteTalent, for many years now.“More than I care to admit,” she tells me with a laugh, “Derek has been with me since the beginning, really. We're old friends, at this point – our families exchange Christmas cards every year.”
Family can be a challenge for someone who's trying to keep the momentum of their career going, and Dame Angela surprised the world when she took a year out of acting to give birth to her son, Anthony.“Yes, at that time it simply wasn't done; one could have a career, or one could have a family. Especially since I was very much on my own with it all. But I was able to get back in front of the cameras quite quickly, and I wouldn't change things for the world. Becoming a mother made me a better actress, I think, because it opened up that whole range of experiences. The highs and the lows of childrearing.”
In fact, Dame Angela starred alongside young Anthony in A is for Apple when he was only eight months old. He briefly followed in her footsteps after leaving school, and seemed set for similar levels of industry acclaim. But it all came to a devastating halt when he developed an addiction that led to him being discovered unconscious in his trailer on the set of The Grasswater Affair. He'd overdosed.
“I don't like to talk about it,” Dame Angela says, her mouth downturned. “I found it very hard. But now, of course, he's been in recovery for many years, and he does his little plays all around the country. It's behind us, and I'd like it to stay that way.”
A change of subject, then; what does she make of the rumours that she is currently performing as a costumed character on The Masked Singer UK? “On- I'm sorry, what's that?” I show her a clip on my phone. “Good heavens, no.” But isn't that exactly what she'd say if it was her? “Well, I don't know. I'd never even seen it until just now. But it all seems a little childish for my taste. I'm far too committed to my art to do light entertainment.”
Time, it seems, will tell. But if Dame Angela is indeed a participant in The Masked Singer, she hides it well.There’s time for one last question, so I try to make it a good one. What, I ask, does Dame Angela consider her proudest achievement to date?
“Oh, that’s a difficult question. I simply couldn’t choose... Naturally, becoming a Dame was a great honour, and not one I expected at all, which made it all the more precious. But then, the first time I won an Oscar was a real moment of pride, and one that’s never soured with time. And, of course, every award and every round of applause is a moment of pride for any actor; it means I’ve done the job, and done it well, and that it has been appreciated by the audience in front of me. What more can any actress ask for?”
MARY HODGES
Dame Angela Crowley’s latest film, Three Card Monte, is in cinemas from the 12th of February.
Centre right:
OWAS to host ‘magic’ event
Literary society’s next gala theme announced
The Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society has announced the theme for its spring social event, which is to be inspired by all things magical. Famed far beyond its actual membership for its lavish balls and banquets, the society has in the past held events held together by motifs such as 'Luck', which took place in a casino, 'Snow', which included a trip to a ski slope, and 'Flight', during which all participants had the opportunity to glide above the dancers on wires. This time, the theme is 'Magic', and while details are still being kept tightly under wraps, it seems fairly certain that Aziraphale Fell, London's most celebrated stage magician and a long-time member of the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society, will be performing at the event.
When the society throws open its doors each season, it's quite possible to go all night without seeing a single regular member of the club. While the organising committee is out in full force, soliciting donations from the wealthy patrons who attend the parties, and the society president stands up to make a toast at the beginning of dinner, it's largely outsiders who descend upon the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society's chosen venue. In fact, the scale and opulence of these events has led some to speculate that OWAS is not a literary appreciation society at all, but rather a shadowy networking opportunity for the rich and powerful. Indeed, at the 'Flight' event, it's rumoured that two world leaders met in the queue for the wire-flying and laid the foundations for a later trade deal between their nations. The society's everyday goings-on are, I'm told, far more pedestrian and literary. But - as the current president, Edwin Pearce, often says - “what's an Oscar Wilde society without a little hedonism?”
There's altruism, too, however; the society makes a substantial donation to a charity chosen by the members each year. This year's charity has yet to be determined, but last year the children of the Wessex Street Hospital enjoyed a very special Christmas thanks to a £20,000 cheque from the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society. Much of the funds required to make such lavish events and donations possible are raised at those very events, which take place once a season.
Tickets for the 'Magic' event have not yet been released, but previous events' tickets have sold for anything from £200 to £2000. A limited number of reduced price tickets are generally made available, so keep an eye on the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society's website at oscarwas.org.uk if you're looking to get in without breaking the bank.
If The Amazing Mr Fell will indeed be performing at the event, it might explain his recent reduction in performances – his show has gone down from six nights a week to just four, eliminating his Wednesday and Saturday performances. Magic fans in the capital can therefore hold out hope that once preparations for his upcoming performance are over, tickets might become easier to obtain. And, of course, the 'Magic' event itself promises to be one big avocado.
CITRON DEUX-CHEVAL
Centre right:
Drawing back the veil again
Mystic Madame reportedly plotting TV return
Two years after Drawing Back the Veil with Telepathic Tracy last aired, its old Saturday night slot is set to become vacant again – and rumours abound that the show may be set to return.
For the last two years, live draws have been condensed into a fifteen-minute slot on BBC One, followed by an episode of one of the longer 45-minute drama series the BBC tend to favour these days. Much of the pageantry that used to go along with the weekly draw was shifted unceremoniously onto the National Lottery's YouTube channel or website, and the delivery of the actual results became more akin to the reading of a weather report before a return to the usual programming of the channel.
Now, however, the BBC has put out a press release announcing that the National Lottery will now return to a half-hour draw show, allowing for 'a little more excitement and glamour'. This, the press release suggests, could take the form of a very brief trivia game before the draw, a return to celebrities wishing everyone luck before pressing the all-important button, a chance to showcase musical acts during the show, or some combination of the above. I'm all for a return to the showbiz nature of the nation's most mainstream gambling ring, but it's the shortening of the subsequent timeslot that has my attention.
Already, just a day after the BBC's announcement, speculation is rife about what – and who – might be about to fill that second half-hour time slot. Most of the shows the BBC produces these days are designed for a 45-minute or hour-long format, and producers will be understandably reluctant to try to condense comedy, gameshows or drama into such a small space – especially given the National Lottery's occasional tendency to overrun. Pre-recorded shows have come unstuck before when the Camelot machines have jammed or some other calamity has befallen the draw, most notably in 2019 when the initial episode of Season 6 of Sherlock aired without the crucial first three minutes that explained the detective's cunning escape from the previous season's climactic scrape.
It's the sort of situation that calls for a steady hand and an almost supernatural ability to adjust to disaster. Who better to take on the challenge than a woman who's had years of practice? Telepathic Tracy, the Mystic Madame, is very much still working her mysterious ways despite her departure from our TV screens – notably in The New Aquarian - and what better way to follow a disappointing lotto result than with the reassurance that this week, your luck will be better, or at the very least predictable?
I, for one, predict Madame Tracy's triumphant return to television - and what's more, I welcome it.
EDWARD BIGGS
Advertisement, bottom left:
[Image Description: A grayscale photo of a warzone, with plumes of smoke. A smiling woman walks away from the destruction; she is in full colour and has artificially-enhanced red hair. Text is overlaid, as transcribed below. End ID.]
When the news breaks, my hair doesn’t. Carmine Zugiber.
Be bold. Be strong. Be Vibrant.
[Image Description: The word Vibrant appears in red and is in a different font, like a logo. This is the case each time it appears. End ID.]
Vibrant Flame Red
Bottom right:
Correction
In Andy Sandalphon's column on page 15 of last Saturday's paper (23rd January), he stated that folk music made by an American is Country music.
Several readers got in touch to explain that this is not, in fact, the case, and we would like to set the record straight.
Country, or country and western, music is a very specific type of folk music, and while often associated with American artists, it is not simply the American version of folk. Furthermore, music must fit specific criteria to be considered country, and Anathema's does not. While country music belongs to the overarching genre of folk, not all folk music is country music, regardless of the nationality of the performer.
We apologise sincerely for the mistake; while every effort is made to include only accurate information, errors do occasionally slip through. We regret the misunderstanding, and hope to do better in future.
If you notice an error in any of our articles, please let us know as soon as possible by emailing [email protected]. We appreciate your help to keep our newspaper as accurate and factual as possible.
Warnings: +18 Mentions of torture, mature language, future smut, mentions of death, slight depression, mentions of kidnapping.
Word Count: 2,390.
Summary: You are one of the youngest members of the Avengers, and you love it. Out of the blue an impossible mission is assigned to you alongside Natasha Romanoff, and it was sure to change your life. Lies, and betrayal from the closest people in your life; they never told you who you really were.
Chapter Number: 6.
Chapter Tittle: Another day, another mission.
A/N: Hi! OMG! It’s been a while since I last updated something, and this was just there on my laptop, so I decided to edit. My professors cancelled class a lot last week, so I had some time to edit. I mean, college is taking much of my time, so I feel like I needed this to relax. I appreciate that y’all are still here and keeping up. Thank you all so much! Also I wanted to add that if you have requests, do ask! I will gladly write them down, but do not expect them anytime soon! I still have a long queue of things to write. Well, enjoy!
A month had gone by since the afternoon you’d brought Bucky to face the whole team. The outcome of the meeting had gone differently from what you’d expected—which was a full-on fight before the Q & A. Once the elevator doors had opened, you and Bucky made way towards the big living room where everyone—conveniently—had decided to chill and chat. Unsurprisingly, Steve was the first one to notice Bucky and you. The chatter that had been going on, stopped the minute Steve quieted down and just seemed to have frozen on the spot he had been sitting on. Of course, Nat had asked him if he was alright, Tony threw in a joke to see if it would snap the Captain out of his daze, but it only made Steve snap out of his shock long enough for him to slowly stand up.
“Steve, what’s wrong?” Nat sounded a bit worried now, so finally, she decided to look where he seemed to be staring at. Her eyes landed on you and then on the man next to you; she jolted from her spot and in less than a second her gun was out.
“Nat, no!” Without a second thought, you stood in front of him, trying to cover him—which wasn’t protecting the other foot of his height. Of course, Nat’s panic made everyone in the room settle in a defensive stance at the sight of the man with the metal arm. Without moving from your spot, you looked up at Bucky and the poor man looked a tad worried. You thought it was because he hadn’t had the warmest of welcomes, but he was more worried that he might have to hurt someone if they attacked. Nevertheless, you grabbed one of his hands and gave it a nice squeeze, hoping that it would let him know that you would protect him at all costs. He relaxed and had to fight off the bashful smile that wanted to come out.
“Y/n, would you like to explain why the Manchurian Candidate is standing behind you?” said a dumbfounded Tony who was standing next to the still gaping Captain America.
“He’s here because he kind of turned himself in,” you said as you gave a bit of a shy smile.
“He turned himself in?” the incredulous voice of Sam almost made you rolled your eyes. “Yes, we talked. He-” you stopped. What could you possibly say to calm them down? You knew that having one chat with a brainwashed ex-assassin wasn’t going to cut it, but again, it had only taken you one chat to believe him wholeheartedly.
“He what, Y/n? Don’t tell me you honestly trust him?” Clint sounded a bit angry and that alone made you angry.
“I do, I trust him,” you said angrily as he stared at the man behind you. “I know him, and he knows me.”
That made everyone in the room flinch. You hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room since that eventful morning, everyone seemed to not care but their reaction was enough to project the obvious inability to forget the fact that, indeed, no one apart from Bucky, knew you.
“Do you really believe that he’s here for a good reason and not because he wants to kill us all?” said Bruce as he looked at you in the eyes. His voice always soft to the ears, it was enough to help you calm down from your initial anger. “Yes, Bruce. He’s here because he wants me, us, to help him recover.”
Silence filled the room for a couple of minutes before Steve took cautious steps towards where you and Bucky stood. One glance at you, and you knew what Steve wanted. So, with one last comforting squeeze to Bucky’s hand, you stepped out of the way and allowed the blonde super soldier to embrace the man that had known him before the serum that now runs through his veins. Steve held onto Bucky, and almost hesitantly, the brunette hugged back before truly embracing his loyal best friend.
From that moment on, life in the tower changed for the benefit of everyone. Having Bucky around helped everyone to be occupied with individual tasks to help with his treatment and training. It had been hard to tell Fury how things had gone down with Bucky and stuff; Fury had almost shot Bucky once he saw him approaching the headquarters. The story was that you had decided to look at the room he had stayed before you and Natasha had been ordered to bring him in, and that having nothing to lose, you decided to look around the other abandoned buildings. You found him when he had just come back from getting some food for himself. Fury didn’t look convinced, but you had managed to get him in, so he took advantage of that. Time will reveal the truth, he’d thought. After all, it happened with you.
Bucky had to undergo many tests to see the damage to his brain, to his body, and to his psychological health as the main possible source of his triggering. It wasn’t easy, at the beginning he looked terrified when he had been led to a white room with a Doctor by himself. He had asked you to accompany him, but the Doctor needed him alone. So, as much as your heart ached for him, the only way to make him feel secure was that you had waited outside the whole time. Once the results on his condition had been given to Fury, Bucky had been told that his programming had to deal with more than constant brainwashing, but there was nothing they could do if they didn’t know what was what triggering his programing. Besides that part of sour news, he’d been clear with everything else, so he was allowed to start training alongside you and the rest of the agents.
Not soon after, Fury had told Tony to keep Bucky in the tower. He had reluctantly agreed, but almost shut it down again once Fury had told him that Bucky’s room must be near yours in case he goes rouge. At those news, you had had a hard time keeping down the massive blush that overcame your face. You knew Bucky and you acted as if the other couldn’t function without the other, but it was mostly because you had promise him that you would help him transition.
After the first stages of Bucky’s transition, the team had fallen at ease with Bucky. You made sure of that, and whenever the air tensed by the mention of anything that could potentially make the Winter Soldier emerge, you were the first one to make sure Bucky was alright. But you never suffocated him with your fears of his relapse, you trusted him enough to tell you if he felt like slipping into those stages. The rest of the group tried to be comfortable, and they were doing great; until they weren’t. It did not matter how good his progress seemed to be going, because whenever Bucky would have a nightmare or an anxiety attack, they recoiled back to their defensive tactics.
His nightmares were as regular as anyone can anticipate from a person with PTSD, so Fury had made Tony set up a sleep tracker in Bucky’s room. They had told you; they have to as you told Fury that everything involving Bucky must go through you before any final decision. The downside was that you couldn’t tell Bucky some things for the benefit of his recovery. And the sleep tracker in his room was one of those things. You knew that if he was aware of them, he would not sleep at ease. If anything, it would only add to his stress. But whenever he had nightmares, you would receive an alert on your phone—thanks to Tony—that way you could be aware of his distress.
Those nights were always something that helped you understand the man better. The first night you barged into his room because he had woken up with a shout of you name, waking most of the team with a jolt. While your mind didn’t understand the situation, once inside his room, your instincts took over. Not sooner you saw him upright, breathing heavily, sweating, and at the verge of a panic attack, you were next to him clutching him. And as he tried to regain composure, your mouth open before you could stop yourself.
“Помни, я всегда рядом,” you stopped rocking with him as soon as those words came out, ‘remember, I’m always next to you’. His body didn’t tense, but he stopped making any type of noise, even his soft sniffles had ceased.
After a minute of quietness in the room, Bucky’s raspy voice broke the silence softly, “Я в порядке.”
And that was the reassurance you needed to know he was truly okay. Since that night, the conversations, and the soothing words were all in Russian. It was the only times when the language was used. In other settings it was English. And that’s not changed since the very first day.
It was a Saturday morning, and like every Saturday you were working out. The only difference was that Steve had joined you. It was normal for the blonde super soldier to join in every other session. The two of you had gotten closer ever since the day Bucky had walked through the elevator doors. He never fails to thank you for bringing his best friend back. He’s always finding ways to somehow show his appreciation, no matter if you insist that it’s okay and that he doesn’t have to always be so willing to do any favor you may ask.
Steve had proposed for a harder session, meaning he wanted for you to not hold back on your punches. And you, like the good friend you are, obliged. Within the hour of hardcore training, you had managed to win one round while Steve came out victorious for the other nine.
By the end of it, you were heaving on the floor, practically in a pool of your own sweat. Steve was just lying down as he laughed at your soft curses. With shaky legs, you got up and grabbed your towel to try and dry off the sweat on your forehead when the doors opened breaking the tranquil ambience.
“Hey you two!” Bucky greeted as his eyes landed on you and then on Steve. A small grin on his face as he approached Steve who still lied down on the mat.
“Hey Buck!”
“Hi!” you gave him a tired smile while Steve said his greeting with almost no hint of exhaustion.
At the sound of your tired voice, Bucky raised an eyebrow as he set his stuff down near yours and Steve’s. Then he turned to look at Steve and you, “Just finished training?”
"Yeah, we’re about to leave. I promised Y/n that I would take her out for breakfast if she beat me at least once. Gotta keep my promises," Steve said with a smile at you as he grabbed his bag and water bottle.
"You better because I’m starving," you replied with the same smile as you got ready to leave. You knew Steve was now trying to keep you from sulking about Natasha and Clint as they were the ones who would normally be your breakfast buddies before everything happened. He had tried to be sneaky about it the first couple of times, but you caught up fast enough to understand. You hadn’t mention it to him, but you were grateful for it.
"Oh,” Bucky raised an eyebrow before he started to make way towards the weight equipment. He set his water bottle down as he spoke, “Well, I’ll see you guys later."
"See ya later, Buck." Steve and you replied. Steve lead the way out as you peered back to look at the brunette. And with a single thought in your head, you walked out of there with Steve.
°°°°°
"So how are things with you and Bucky?"
After taking a needed shower, Steve had taken you to his favorite diner. A change of scenery he’d said. It was only fair as he normally went to the one you liked. The diner was small but it felt comforting. The food was good, and even though you had just come from working out, no one could stop you from ordering a side of French fries. You regret nothing.
"Mhm? What do you mean?" You felt a little weird at the question. You shouldn’t, but the fact that he had asked after Bucky had acted weird back the training room, it made you almost flinch at the implications.
“Oh, come on, Y/n. The ‘I’ll see you guys later’ from Bucky was off. It's like you forget I know how he gets when he is jealous, and that was his I’ll-pretend-and-I'm-cool-with-what-just-happened-while-I-sulk-alone-in-my-misery voice,” Steve was grinning like he had caught you off guard and was now rejoicing in the results.
You were staring at him with wide eyes. And Steve took that as a sign that he was right in guessing that he’d caught you off guard. “Doll, none of us is blind. The two of you are always together, whispering to each other, and looking at each other with gleaming eyes. If I, the oblivious of us all, can see it, we all can.”
"Look, It’s not like that. We are not dating or anything,” you said as blush dusted your cheeks. “We are just close because, I mean, we have some share experiences. We kind of just trust each other in this weird, comforting way. But that’s it! We are friends."
Steve huffed a laugh and was about to say something when his phone started ringing in his pocket. Grabbing and looking at the caller, he glanced at you before he accepted the call.
"Rogers.... She’s here.... Okay…. Yes…. Got it. We'll be there."
As you looked at him putting his phone down and grabbing his wallet, you asked, “who was that?”
"Fury. Last minute mission. Sam, Wanda, Vision, Bucky, you, and me.” He put the money down next to his unfished coffee as he got up. “Let’s go.”
“And here I thought it was going to be a quiet day for me.”
It's been one of those rollercoaster weeks, one that began with a great deal of pain, which I tried to ignore at first, so as not to ruin my 17- year old’s already Corona-compromised birthday party. At some point during our 5 p.m. family Zoom celebration, I quietly left the room and went upstairs to lie down, writhe in pain, get back up, bend over, moan, repeat. This continued through the night Monday – and at one point, I remember thinking that labor wasn’t this bad and that I should probably go to the emergency room. In this new world we’re in, that thought was quickly dismissed by one word: COVID. I paced the floor at 3 a.m., alternately moaning and then bopping my head and sort of softly singing what kept running through my head, which was the chorus of The Knack’s 1979 hit song, “My Sharona.” Only my version went “My Corona.” Yes, even while suffering, I’m clever that way.
By Tuesday morning the pain had subsided. I was exhausted however, and slept throughout the day. “Tricia! Drink this! Jesus, she’s burning up.” It was the alarm in my husband’s voice that I responded to more than the command. I sat up, drank the water he was holding out to me, and when I caught my reflection in the mirror over the dresser I had the brief, feverously detached impression of someone who’d sat under a sun lamp for too long. Sun lamp, the words made me almost giggle out loud. Sun-lamp, sun-lamp, sun-lamp…Does anyone even know what that is anymore? A few hours later I had a virtual appointment with my regular GP, during which the decision was made for me to go to the office first thing Wednesday for a full exam. My instructions (my fever-addled brain again added the words “should I choose to accept them” - hehehe), for entering the building would come in the form a text.
My office exam was efficient and thorough. Upon arrival, I called the office and someone met me at a side door. As we were both masked and gloved, we nodded and murmured muffled greetings. Two PAs and an MD palpated my tender abdomen while I stifled screams. They decided that I should have a C-T scan that day, with the expectation that the offending culprit was a kidney stone. As many radiology facilities are currently closed, it took a few hours for them to locate one that would take me. My scan took place at 4:30. I was the last patient of their day.
Fast forward to 6:30 p.m. Wednesday evening. I picked up the call, which was remarkable in itself because anyone who knows me knows how irritating it is that, a) my phone is always on silent mode, and, b) I rarely answer numbers I don’t recognize. It was another doctor from Vanguard, calling to let me know that my C-T scan showed no evidence of kidney stones – “Yay!” BUT, he cut in, it did show acute appendicitis. What I needed to do, he said, was to go directly to the nearest ER.
So here’s where this story really begins, because I was about to get a reality check regarding the difference between the inconveniences of “social distancing” and quite literally, matters of life and death. For those of us who are shuffling around at home in our sweatpants, eating too much, complaining about the buffoonery of our President, laughing at all the funny memes, and who are, to one degree or another, COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS to the fact that health care workers do not have the luxury of ANY of that, here’s the newsflash: The Corona virus has virtually SHUT down normal operations for hospitals and surgical facilities, so if you’re also laughing in the face of social-distancing guidelines, and just can’t wrap your head around the possibility of contracting this deadly disease, know this too: If you break your arm, or your spouse has a heart attack, or your child’s strange rash won’t go away and you’re just really concerned, good luck. We are NOT in Kansas anymore, peeps.
I considered doing a bit of a negative a rant on the first hospital that I went to here, but perhaps that wouldn’t be fair. “The nearest ER” for me would have been another hospital, but due to their somewhat dubious reputation, we opted to go just a bit farther away. The best thing I can say about that experience was that the safety protocols to enter the ER were impressive. Picture the scene in E.T. where the Hazmat-suited guys from the space program find out about him and “invade” the house in a tunnel of white - then picture the people standing six feet apart outside of say, ShopRite, only these people don’t look so great. They’re kind of bent over, or swaying, or leaning on someone else. Then count your blessings that your gut hurts and you’re not bleeding out…or struggling to breathe.
Three hours later, after they’d reviewed my scans and completed all of the necessary pre-op tests (blood work, EKG, urine analysis), I got the word that most of the ORs were being used as ICUs for COVID patients, and they were only doing “emergent” surgeries. They sent me home with massive doses of antibiotics, and a referral to see their staff general surgeon - outpatient.
I figured they were right, too. Must not be very serious. I was doing well with that notion until the following morning, when I heard the barely concealed shock in the voice of my regular MD.
“Did they see your scans?” his tone serving only to increase my anxiety.
“Yeah. But my appendix hasn’t exploded yet.” I said.
“Ah,” he sighed, “I know things are being handled differently in the ‘current environment,’ but last time I checked, acute appendicitis was emergent.”
Okay, pay attention now, because here’s where it gets really interesting: See if you can answer his parting questions:
“Do you have a general surgeon? Preferably one with their own facility?”
So, do you? And if you do, are you sure they’re even open right now? I sure as hell didn’t (and the name they gave me at the hospital turned out to be for a doctor whose answering machine told me he was not seeing new patients). And the idea that it was now pretty much my problem to solve was a little intimidating – especially for someone who generally needs to be told that they’re sick (enough) or in (enough) pain to seek help—but that’s another story. Now that doctor, who I respect and like a lot, said he’d be trying to find me one, but that I should do my research as well.
My husband and I made a fairly long list of people/places to call, and split it. Those we were able to reach at all offered possible solutions to my dilemma, but each dead-ended pretty quickly. I focused on the task now, trying to ignore what it might mean that the ache in my belly seemed to be spreading down my right leg.
As of this writing, I have yet to hear back from my regular GP and yet, here I sit, post-op, able to get this down mostly because of a Facebook message I sent to one of the nurses in the Belleville Public School district. The only real help I got came from her, a nurse, who responded immediately to an “in-boxed” message, and kept responding for the next hour, sending me the names and phone numbers of doctors (sometimes with their credentials!), links to possible facilities, and words of encouragement. She gave me her personal cell phone number and encouraged me to call it if I had questions and/or to let her know how it was going. I felt like she meant it, too. I also think she was responsible for the first in a series of serendipitous events that just may have saved my life. One of the names she gave me turned out to be the dad of one of my kid’s friends.
At that point, things happened pretty quickly. I called him (at home) and told him my situation. In a matter of 20 minutes, he had my scans and had booked a time slot for me for same-day surgery at Clara Maass. He’s a high-energy, outgoing kind of guy, and although I’d stood on sidelines with him and his lovely wife at many a sports event, I don’t know him well enough, nor did I think it was appropriate to laugh out loud when he laid out the plan: “With everything going on, I just really want to do you – and get you the hell out of there!”
So here I am, more grateful to him than I can possibly express and having some time to consider just how random and crazy and dangerous that whole situation was (turns out, my appendix had begun to perforate after all, and the real fun was just beginning) and how fortunate I am.
But the real heroes here - Oh, and God, aren’t we all a little sick of the “hero” thing? – well get over it, and listen up! From the minute I walked through the door of Clara Maass yesterday, my experience was the best it could possibly have been. The nurses! OMG the nurses - I was in pre-op for hours. Lucky as I was to have been squeezed in to an already crowded surgical schedule, the truth of the matter was that my presence had required a quick shifting of resources—stretchers and space and - nurses. My sudden appearance in the queue was inconvenient, possibly even annoying. And yet all of them, including the nurse who ran the OR, came by to check on me, to give me extra blankets, to chat with me, and laugh with me. A friend’s daughter-in-law, who is a nurse there, got a text from him and even she came from three floors below just to say hello and charm me with her Australian accent and tired-but-twinkling blue eyes. I swear, for me? The whole experience was a cross between a weirdly sterile spa stay, and – as mine all happened to be women - a girls’ sleepover with your best girlfriends—only these were women I'd just met (but they’d also pretty much seen me naked, so, there’s that…).
Most of them were nearing the end of a 12-hour shift. As I lay there, relaxed and warm, reading and texting, they race-walked back and forth among those of us who waited, or were recovering. I lost count of how many times one of them asked me if I was okay, or if I needed something. They ate their dinners on the move, taking bites and then sprinting off, tearing off one set of gloves, putting on another. These people Do. Not. Sit. The sink was right near my bed, so I saw a lot of hand-washing traffic too, and a lot of red, chapped, over-sanitized hands. They spoke in soothing voices to those who were waiting, and possibly scared, and loud-enough voices for those emerging from the cloud of anesthesia to understand. Sometimes they shouted good-natured complaints to one another, or teased one another – and me, as when one started repacking those bags they give you for your clothes, amusement in her voice as she yelled, “What the hell did you do here, shove it all in like a little kid? Your purse is open – Maria, come over here and see this – she’s a mess!” Hahahaha! One came by and pointed to the cover of the book I was reading entitled “The Silent Patient”, and joked “That’s the kind we like!”
I even began to wonder if what I was getting was “special treatment” reserved for those whose surgeries were personally called-in by the surgeon. Once he arrived, however, it was clear that not only did they not know he was the one who got me in, but they chided him in the same affectionate way. At a point, I said to one of them, “Doctors think they’re all that, but nurses really run the show don’t they?” She winked at me and elbowed me a little, “Like husbands, honey – they just think they’re in charge!”
I lounged, for over four hours while they stood on what had to be tired feet, hands on hips as they talked to me, telling me which part of the hospital they’d spent the morning in, or where they were headed next in this crazy, all-hands-on-deck environment. We chatted about jobs and kids, and only when the topic of this deadly disease came up did the lack of words become conspicuous. Then it was all a mime of sad shakes of the head and downward glances.
It occurs to me today that after all of this, I'm not sure I would recognize any of them tomorrow if I saw them on street – nor they me. Of course, we were all masked. But maybe I would – if I could see their eyes again. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that most of all, those eyes conveyed a profound kindness. And laughter, and concern, and compassion, and dedication—and a toughness that allows them to do it all.
I'll tell you a secret: I am a person who often has a weird response to unexpected kindness - it makes me cry. I welled up more than once yesterday afternoon. I may have been just one of many for them – this is just what they do - but for me, a bond was made. I will always remember them.
Make no mistake: it’s no hardship to be home in your sweatpants with your gel manicure looking a little ratchet, and your spouse and kids seeming more like houseguests who have overstayed their welcome. Today, I want you to feel really, really blessed and grateful, and if you’re like me, a generally healthy person who never really gave too much thought to the job that these people do, I hope I was able to convey just a little of it.
That school nurse who rescued me put it this way: “I took an oath when I graduated just as physicians do. I have followed it for 28 years and it has never let me or my patients down.” That whole oath thing is good and important and all, but the heart behind it gives it grace.
So, if you get an invitation to do one of those car processions where you beep your horn and cheer for the local health care workers as they go in to, or leave, work– get in your car and go. Or, just mail them each a check for a million dollars. Either way.
Discover Top Posts Tagged with #queue is full back to regular programming. | Tumgag
