#im sure if u scroll my blog u can find my own mistakes and u are free to call me out on them all i will do my best to fix my own faults

[91divoc]

yeaa cuz like i remember opening the main ttte tag one time and went to recent, the first thing i saw was nsfw just out in the open, no censorship no proper warning, and it whiplashed the fuck out of me. granted im an adult, barely, im 18 i just got here, but it was still kinda shocking 💀

if anything tho, for my 2 cents (or wutever the saying is called), i think that in the end if u truly do want to post suggestive or nsfw posts here on tumblr, there are much better and safer ways to do so to ensure that it's not easily viewed by the poor minors, or non-horny people here just wanting to enjoy their hyperfixations and interests

an example: having a big banner or text at the very start of said post that clearly and easily can be read and understood that the post contains nsfw work, and then make it to where it's under the cut so someone has to physically intend to click on the "see more" option to truly reveal the post

or if there's another way to hide it properly that i dont know about, that too. but in the end, *in my opinion please dont sue me*, nsfw should be kept in safer places that are well assured it wont easily be viewed/accessed by minors, and that it should be handled with care and mindfulness as op stated. like yall please, dont be putting it just out in the open in the main fandom tags without a single warning beforehand, it's not cool, kind, or considerate. hate to be that "oMg We'Re AdUlTs AnD wE nEeD tO bE rEsPoNsIbLe" person, but dude it's true. we are older, and there are younger kids here, we need to be mindful of them when we post shit that could not necessarily be good for them to see. and if you do it purposely and dont care, then i hate to say, but you're just genuinely disrespectful and pretty yucky of a person. don't do that.

feel free to add on and/or correct me on things

Not to whack a hornet's nest here but I seriously think some people should reconsider putting their NSFW posts in the main series tag. Multiple main tags, mind you. Those posts will still end up being visible in the main tag search.

You're still engaging in media that is directed to a younger demographic. If you're an older member of the community please think about who is going to see these posts. Not everyone in the community is going to be interested in seeing that kind of stuff. And considering the fact that there are still plenty of younger community members here, I think you should be more mindful about what you post about these characters out in the open.

[turtle-steverogers]

In the SPOTlight

this is for my main bitch, @labert-dasilver ‘s, birthday.  thank u for being my partner in crime, the other half to my chaotic duo, the al to my race, the angst filter to my wild 3 am ideas.  i truly don’t know where id be without u.  happy birthday, queen!!! i love you

oof ima note that i’m basing the workings of this off my own theatre director and cue to cue and shit yeah #theatre life

warnings: none

ship: sprace

editing: nopee

“Alright, we’re running Step in Time!  Full tech,” Medda Larkin, Manhattan High’s theatre director called through her megaphone from the top of the house, “Why isn’t Antonio on stage, and Sean!”

Spot Conlon peeked his head out of the booth, “Yes, Miss Medda?”

“Why are the house lights still up?”

“Sorry! Sorry,” The house lights lowered gradually, until only the lights on stage and cyc lights were up.

“Thank you!” Spot shot a thumbs up out of the booth and turned back to the lighting board.  At that moment, Racetrack Higgins ran on stage, looking entirely frazzled with his button down shirt untucked and suspenders half on.  He had a broom tucked under his chin and he was struggling to straighten out his costume.

“Antonio, where were you?  We can’t start Step in Time without our Bert,” Medda reprimanded, her voice coming out tingy through the megaphone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Race called, sheepishly, snapping his suspenders up and propping the broom over his shoulder, “I misplaced my old broom so Whiz had to find me another.”

“God bless Whiz,” Medda sighed, “What would we do without her?”

“Crash and burn, probably,” Finch called from one of the spots.

“Anyway, we all ready?” Medda called, drumming her fingers haughtily.  Race and Katherine, their production’s Mary, called confirmations and the music started up.  Race began to sing, his voice filling the theatre, but as soon as he started, Medda called for him to stop.  The music cut out abruptly and Race and Katherine blinked at each other in confusion.

“There’s supposed to be a spot on Race,” Medda said, “Who else is on spot besides Finch?”

Spot grumbled to himself, sticking his head out of the booth to peer at the other spot booth.  It was empty.  Figures.

“Uh, looks like Romeo isn’t doing what he’s supposed to,” Spot called back, “Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Medda answered, growing impatient, “But we don’t have time for this.  Get someone else to do it!”

Spot let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his short hair, “Uhhh, fuck, uh Jack?” He turned to his crewhead that had previously been scrolling through his phone on the mildewy futon that they kept in the booth.  They really had to replace that thing.  

“Yeah?” Jack said, looking up and abandoning his phone beside him.

“Could you take over the lightboard?  I gotta go run Romeo’s spot.”

Jack shrugged and wordlessly plopped himself at the station.

“Thanks, man,” Spot said, already jogging down to Romeo’s vacant position.

“Is everything handled?” Medda asked.

“Yep!” Spot shouted.

“Lovely,” Medda placed her megaphone down, “Start at the top!”

Race and Katherine scrambled back over to stage left, Les and Smalls, who were playing Jane and Michael, on their heels.

The song restarted, this time with both of the spots, and everything went smoothly until, “Sean Conlon, why is the spot still on Antonio!  It’s supposed to be on Katherine, you know, the one actually dancing right now!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Spot called, blushing.  

“Back to the top!”

Race and Katherine exchanged exasperated glances as they slumped back over to their starting position.  They made it through almost the entirety of the song when, “Sean Conlon, for the last time, get the spot off of Mr. Higgins and on Ms. Plumber!”

Race smirked in the direction of the spot that had been following him almost feverishly for the past two minutes, “Hey, Spottie, for someone literally named after his craft, you’re pretty distractible.  I mean, I understand that these pants really make my ass pop, but you still gotta do your job correctly.” Spot felt his face heat up as he watched Katherine smack Race’s arm.

“Nah, just highlighting your ugliness,” Spot retorted, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice.

“You’re really bad at comebacks,” Race called smugly, “‘Specially when you’re flustered.  I can’t see you, but I can practically feel your blush.”

“Screw you, Higgins!”

“You wish, Conlon!”

“Alright you two,” Medda interrupted, waving her hands to stop the boys’ bickering, “Keep the flirting to your own time.  We need to finish this scene.”

This time, Race blushed as well, but they set up for the beginning of the song nonetheless.  No mistakes were made this time, no doubt a result of Spot attempting to avoid further ridicule.  The actors hit their final pose and Spot slowly brought down the spotlight, then jogged back to the booth to bring up the house lights.

“Thank you for finally pulling that together, guys,” Medda addressed the cast and crew, “Take, say, fifteen minutes to break and then we’ll plug through the rest of the show with tech.”

Spot let out a breath of relief as everyone dispersed.  Cue to cue days were always long and breaks were far and few in between, so it was nice when they were finally granted one.  He grabbed his water bottle and exited the booth to refill it.  When he got out, he found Race standing by the water fountain, eating an apple.

Butterflies bubbled in Spot’s stomach upon the sight of his long time crush up close, but he ignored them and feigned confidence, “Aye, Higgins, no eating in costume.”

Race looked up in surprise, hastily moving to hide the apple, but stopping when he realized who Spot was, “Whatever,” Race said, biting into his apple.

“That’s no way to treat your resident lighting designer,” Spot said, bending over to fill up his bottle, “Ya know, actors should really learn to respect us techies more.”

Race quirked an eyebrow, “And techies should learn to follow the correct actor when working the spotlight.  I mean, c’mon, Spottie, am I really that irresistible?”

Spot straightened up, a new sort of challenging intensity in his eyes, “Yeah, actually, you are.”

Race’s eyes widened and he reached forward, pulling Spot in by the front of the shirt.  Before their lips could connect, one of the assistant stage managers, Elmer, peeked his head through the stage door, “Five minutes.”

Spot and Race didn’t break eye contact as they answered, “Thank you five!”

There was a moment of tension where neither boy moved, then Spot leaned in and kissed Race.  The taller boy melted into the kiss, releasing his grip on Spot’s shirt in order to hold his hips.  Their lips fit together soundly, and Spot could feel the butterflies spark up again as warmth spread throughout his body.  They broke apart after what could have been hours, both of them smiling serenely.

“Hey,” Race murmured, “I think I’m a spotlight and you’re on lighting crew ‘cause you turn me on.”

Spot furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, taken aback, “Was that a lighting pick-up line?”

Race nodded, “Sure was.”

Spot threw his head back in laughter, Race joining him a moment later, “Real classy, Higgins.”

“Ah suck it, Conlon.”

TAG LIST:

@bencookisagod

@we-dont-sell-papes

@aw-jus-let-em-try

@well-the-kids-do-too

@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn

@thatpoorguysheadisspinning

@labert-dasilver

@andthewoildwillknow

@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog

@sunshine-e-cigarettes

@have-we-got-news-for-you

@musical-shitposts

@thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

[hindsywrites]

Bill and Gabe’s Excellent Adventure: A Gen Story

Some people say there was bound to be at least friendly competition. Two famous babies born so close together, it was going to happen. Look at Suri Cruise and Violet Affleck. By the time they were four, they were exchanging insults in the tabloids. The real surprise was that Pete and William were such close friends and it still turned out the way it did. When Ashlee finished peeing on the stick, the first person Pete called after Patrick was William. "So, how did you keep Gen a secret for so long?" People talked, especially in Chicago, but anything surrounding Gen had been mum until well after her birth. "Hello, Pete, it's nice to talk to you as well. Things are going fine here, thank you for asking." William always had to do the polite portion of the conversation. Pete was too busy being his own muse, biggest fan, and harshest critic. "Hey, Bill. Always good to talk to you. How's tricks? Now, how did you keep Gen a secret?" "Oh my God! You knocked her up!" William almost dropped the phone from between his ear and shoulder. "Dude, shut up! There are five people in South Africa who didn't hear you say that." The rest of the conversation was more of the same, William trying to keep from dropping either Gen or the phone while talking to Pete about making an honest woman out of Ashlee. It was a cute little convesation and Pete promised that as soon as little Wentzbryo was hatched, it could have a playdate with Gen. The screeching from Ashlee over the name of her unborn and unplanned miracle halted the conversation before it went any further. * The wedding came and went and so did spring. By mid-summer, Pete was back to making emo blog posts, often talking about how no man was an island but that he'd fight the tide to prove the poets wrong. When no one could figure out what the posts meant, they turned to the one person they knew would be able to help them. "What do you mean you don't understand the post? No man is an island. How were you in AP English, Bill?" Patrick balanced Gen on one hip and let her touch the soundboard in front of him. He looked almost as bad as Pete these days, dark bags under his eyes and hair falling lank beside his face. "All mankind is of one author, and is one volume; when one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language blah blah blah. I know all about the interconnectedness of mankind, Patrick, I just want to know what the H-E-double-hockey-sticks he's quoting John Donne for. Especially in relation to proving the tide wrong." Bill pursed his lips and reached for his daughter. He was fairly certain he'd just seen her pull off a knob and put it in her mouth. Patrick just held Gen closer and blew a raspberry on her stomach until she dropped the knob she had indeed taken off the soundboard. "Haven't you ever made a mistake, Bill?" "Well, of course." Bill just rolled his eyes and sat down on Patrick's seat. "Okay, but the difference is that you didn't marry yours." Patrick raised his eyebrows in a way Bill was sure was meant to be significant. "So. OH! You're saying he didn't want to. Whoa. You don't think he'd be with her if it wasn't for the baby?" Bill had not been prepared for that conversation when he went to see Patrick. All he'd wanted was reassurance that Pete wasn't going for another drive in the suburbs. "Come on, do you really think this is someone he really thought he'd spend the rest of his life with?" The look Patrick accompanied the question with was designed to make William feel about two inches tall. "Well. I mean. He talked about her the same way he talked about Jeanae." Bill shrugged off the look. He wasn't Pete's best friend in the entire world, it wasn't up to him to know the inner workings of his mind. "Jesus, Christine lets you out of the house alone with Gen?" Patrick sets the aforementioned baby in Bill's lap and shook his head at him. "Yes, exactly. He talks about her the same way he used to talk about Jeanae. And who did he end up not marrying?" He knelt down in front of Bill and tickled Gen's stomach as she sat on his knee. "Oh. Oh! I get it, all right. So. They're only together because of the baby. That's. Wow." Bill rubbed his hand up and down Gen's back when she started to fuss. "Very good, Bill." Patrick did the unthinkable and removed his hat to allow Gen to play with it. "Gen, when you get older, I want you to start telling your dad that it’s a good thing he’s pretty. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to say it." He kissed the top of her head before she burbled and tried to put the hat on her head. "Hey, don’t go corrupting my daughter. That’s not kosher." Bill stood and cradled Gen to his chest, trying to keep her from reaching out and grabbing at Patrick, or worse, the knobs. "Right, that’s Uncle Gabe’s job." Patrick rolled his eyes and turned his back to Bill. "You two are off to see him, right?" "No, we’re off to see Uncle Travis first. It’s almost naptime and she likes when he raps Public Enemy for her." Bill returned the roll of eyes for an entirely different reason. "And then we’ll go back home and see what Mommy did all day, right Gen?" Bill cooed at his daughter and couldn’t help but to smile when she smiled at him. "Never thought I’d see the day when you were whipped for a kid." Patrick just smiled fondly and ushered the two out of the studio, choosing to ignore the fact that a baby was walking out with his hat. * Nobody blamed Bill. That’s what everyone told him, "we don’t blame you." Christine had wanted to leave, had always wanted to. Even when she and Bill had started dating, she had always said she wanted to leave Illinois, leave the states. The only shock was that she’d done it so quietly and that she hadn’t taken Gen. For the first few weeks after, Bill’s mother had decided to stay with them. She had only wanted to help Bill get on his feet and learn how to properly take care of a baby without someone there to pick up the slack. When that seemed to be failing, she didn’t know who to call but Patrick. "Mrs. Beckett, with all due respect, I’m not sure that him having the baby is the best idea. I mean, he loves her but…" "I know, Patrick, I know. I just don’t know what else I can do. He misses Christine, it’s obvious, but he’s not pulling himself together for the baby." Berniece looked over at her son, sitting in front of the Game Show Network and watching a Bob Barker tell someone to come on down. There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey next to him. He hadn’t touched it in a few hours, but he was still only bordering sobriety. "What he needs is to sober up and realize there’s a kid who is depending on him. Gen shouldn’t be raised by her grandparents, no offense. She’s Bill’s responsibility now and he needs to own up to it." Patrick thought of the visit a few months earlier and shook his head. "You know, you’re right. And I think I know the right way to do that." Berniece nodded to herself and quickly said her goodbyes to Patrick. That night, while Bill slept the deep sleep of the drunk, Berniece went through the apartment and gathered up all the liquor bottles and any questionable baggies she could find. The morning found a sink that smelled like alcohol and thirty dollars of recycling money on the counter, along with a note that read: William, I’ve dumped your liquor out and gone home. It’s time for you to be responsible for this child. She loves you and you won’t even look at her. Christine will be back when she finds what she was looking for and until then, you need to be the strong one for Gen’s sake. I’ve left some formula in the fridge and there are instructions for food taped onto the door. I love you, but I can’t watch this and I won’t take a child away from both of her parents. Mom After a moment, Bill recognized the noise that was filtering through his ear as Gen crying in her crib. He walked into the nursery and looked down at Gen as she wailed up at him. The stench in the room made it clear what her problem was and Bill tried as hard as he could to remember where the new diapers were kept. It had been more than two weeks since he’d even been in the same room as Gen. She looked too much like Christine, all wide smiles and soft blonde hair. After feeding her some formula, Bill rooted under the couch for his cell phone; it was vibrating and Bill couldn't be sure it wasn't his mother calling. There were several messages from Gabe from the past week. bilbo, heard about christine, sorry man. if u need n e thing, txt me. hey, havent heard back, u doing ok? beckett answer ur msgs, jfc. if i dont hear from u 2morrow, im coming there. im @ the airport, b there in 20 mns. The last message had a time stamp of five minutes earlier and Bill nearly dropped Gen again. Gabe was going to be there in a matter of minutes. Thanks in large part to his mother, the apartment wasn't too much of a mess. In fact, the only mess was the nest of a couch Bill had spent the last few weeks on. "Gen, Uncle Gabe is coming. I'm going to put you back in your crib with a bottle and as soon as I figure out why he's here, I'll come get you." Bill wasn't entirely sure why he was instructing her like she could actually understand him but a memory hit him hard for a moment. Gen was in her crib and Bill was babbling at her when Christine had told him not to do that, it was damaging to a child's development. She needed to be spoken to like she was fully cognizant of what she was hearing. Gen just burbled back at him and tugged on his hair before he set her down in her crib. She made the universal sign for 'pick me up!' but Bill had too many other things to worry about. He couldn't understand why Gabe was going to show up. Had he really cut off that much contact with the outside world. He scrolled through the missed calls on his phone. Some time in the past two weeks, he'd found time to answer a call from his mother, a call from the Butcher, and a call from Spencer. He didn't even know how Spencer got the number. Eventually there was a knock on the door. Bill was still looking at his phone, looking at the texts he'd ignored, even one from Tom that said "mike says u wnt answr his msgs. dnt know y u wud answr mine. call him, hes worried." The knock startled him out of his reverie and he walked over to the door. A quick check of the peephole showed him Gabe on the other side practicing some dance moves. Bill had a few choices. He could open the door and allow Gabe in, resulting in some horrible nursing back to health. He could keep the door closed, resulting in Gabe calling his mother and yelling at Bill through the door that he knew he was in there and if he didn't answer, he was calling the cops! After a moment of debate, and Gabe saying 'I know you're in there, Bills, I can hear you moving around', Bill decided to open the door. The worst that could happen was Gabe deciding that he couldn't leave Bill alone for five minutes and then handcuffing him to the bed while he left for groceries. It used to frighten Bill how well he knew Gabe's thought processes. Eventualy, he just chalked it up to having spent too much time around him during a specific period of his life. "William Eugene Beckett, if you ever disappear like that again, I will cut your balls off and feed them to a snake at the zoo." Gabe threw down his bags and wrapped his arms tightly around Bill. Stumbling slightly, Bill took a step back and tried to worm out of Gabe's grip. The physical contact after so long without was almost too much and it made Bill's limbs feel atrophied. Gabe didn't let go and it was all Bill could do to not have a panic attack right there. "I'm sorry." He didn't offer any more of an explanation than that. Gabe could draw his own conclusions when he saw Christine's half of the closet, empty save for the bag containing her prom dress. Gabe just nodded and kept a hand on the small of Bill's back as they walked into the apartment. "And where is the littlest cobra right now?" Gabe looked around the living room, trying not to let himself be distressed when he saw the state of the house. It was like Bill didn't want to clean it up, like if it got messy enough, Christine would have to come back not because this was the apartment she'd left in Bill's charge but because this was the home she'd tried to build with him. "She's in her crib. I-I wanted to talk to you first, before she saw you. I wanted to find out why you were here." Bill didn't meet Gabe's eyes, looking down at the ground instead. There were baskets of clean laundry, something he was left to assume his mother did before she left. Even so, looking at it now with Gabe next to him, Bill realized how much he'd actually let the place go. DVDs were strewn around the TV, out of their cases and just waiting to be scratched. All in all, it looked like Christine had jumped ship and left Bill to fend for himself. "Bills, I'm here because you need me here. Like you invented me in your mind and here I am." Gabe was trying for levity, he was, but he couldn't quite lift the corners of Bill's mouth high enough. "I'm here because you didn't answer and I figured that maybe I could help out around here while you needed it." Gabe shrugged and let go of Bill as they approached Gen's room. Bill just nodded and opened the door, looking at Gen trying to hoist herself up and stand. She grinned at Gabe and looked between the two of them, falling back down and reaching her hands out to them. "She needs a bottle, I think." Bill disappeared into the kitchen as Gabe crossed the room and hoisted her up. Cradling the small child close to him, Gabe paced the room and let her press her ear to his heartbeat. "Don't worry, Gen, we're going to fix this." "Did you say something?" Bill reappeared with a bottle, handing it to Gabe, who recoiled back from it. "What's wrong?" "You have to test it on your wrist." Gabe used his free hand to turn Bill's arm over and tap some of the milk onto it. "Her mouth is sensitive." It was almost as though Bill had forgotten everything about how to take care of a child. He knew all of this, Gabe was aware of how Bill had attended parenting classes. Gabe let Gen curl up to him and rocked her slowly back and forth, allowing her to nod off. "Bill, you can't just let this swallow you up. You have a kid." "Everyone keeps saying that! Everyone keeps saying that but they don't understand what this feels like. Nobody understands what it's like to see a child and think the worst things imaginable. To wish that she wasn't here. That she hadn't been born." Even as Bill was talking, he was reaching out to stroke Gen's hair. "You don't think that. You can't think that." Gabe wrapped a protective arm around Gen. "Come on, you need to sleep or something. I'll clean up around here, just take a nap or something." Gabe continued to hold the sleeping baby as he led Bill to the bedroom. His place in New York is too minimalist to be messy, so he needs to organize the clutter of Bill's apartment. "Do you have a back or chest carrier for her?" Bill was already out like a light. "Okay, Gen. It's time you learn about how to keep an apartment clean." Gabe looked around the living room and settled on putting Gen in a baby romper while he tidied up. * If anyone could've predicted Bill's reaction to Gabe staying there, everyone else would've laughed in his or her face. With someone watching Gen again, Bill returned to his trusty bottle and steady diet of The Price is Right and Wheel of Fortune. Gabe did his best to keep Gen away from it. He had nothing scheduled coming up, so he didn't feel bad about staying there longer than he initially said he was going to stay. A few weeks turned into a few months and before long, he had set up a cot in the living room, and he'd taken the baby monitor with him. No one in Bill's band could say anything because they didn't know what to say. He'd been heartbroken before, but he'd bounced back stronger and better than ever. While Gabe was at home having tea parties with Gen and listening to her babble in a mixture of Baby and English, Mike and Johnny took turns picking Bill up from bars around the city. It wasn't long before everyone was called to a meeting at Bill's place. Even Pete was there, as distracted as he was by the messages constantly coming in on his Blackberry. They'd conferenced in Victoria, Alex, and Nate. Ryland was out buying groceries when the call actually came, but he said he'd be back in half an hour. "Look, guys, we're just going to have to put things on hold for a few months. I want to make sure he- Gen is okay. I mean, she already had Christine leave, I can't just go now. She's used to me." As he spoke into the speakerphone with Mike and Siska at his side, Pete still pacing the kitchen, Gabe clutched Gen protectively. "He'll snap out of it soon, he wasn't ready before and I don't think it's going to be a slap and then he's fine. He just needs a little more time." "Are you sure this isn't you just wanting to be the hero?" Alex's voice sounded very far away through the speakerphone. "No, it is. But. I can't just leave them, okay? I'm sorry and I'll explain it all. Or you guys can come out and visit, but I can't just leave Gen here until I know Bill is okay." Gen was starting to babble in more words now. Pete and Patrick were no longer interchangeable, she'd developed enough of a vocabulary to call Pete "Monkey" and Patrick "Lunch." Needless to say, Patrick still didn't find his nickname amusing. "I'll come out there and I'll check the situation out." Victoria hadn't had much to add to the conversation, but she felt that it was important that she add this. "It's really admirable what you're doing right now, Gabe. I'll back it as long as it doesn't put me out on the streets." "It won't." Gabe felt relief rush through them. As long as she knew what was going on, she'd understand enough to pass the message along to the rest of the band. When he'd hung up, Gabe turned to Mike and Siska. "I'm sorry, I'm doing the best I can with him." "We know, man. It'll take some time. Maybe you should go pick him up tonight and we'll watch Gen." Mike extended his arms to the sleepy baby and grinned when she reached for him in return. BLAHBLAHBLAH Gabe and Bill get together and raise an awesome daughter.