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theohonohan · 10 months ago

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Packed like squares of wheat: Pixel art and the rhizomatic

This piece is, in a way, about Australia. At Mossman in Far North Queensland there is a sugarcane mill, which I was lucky to visit in the late 1980s. Every summer since it was built in 1896, it processes sugarcane into sugar. In recent years it has processed around a million tonnes of cane, from over 100 nearby farms. All of the waste products of the process (cane tops, bagasse, molasses, filter mud) have a use; the fibrous bagasse is used to fire the boilers to produce the steam that runs the plant’s electricity generators. As of November 2023, the mill is in danger of being shut down permanently.

As a child, my focus was on the machinery of the mill. It was an impressively gloomy and grimy place, although it was not operating at that time of year. Like most boys, I was interested in the mechanics more than the ingredients. I visited quite a few factories and power plants with my dad around that time, mostly in Ireland. I wasn’t cut out to be farmer or a naturalist, and very far from being an enthusiast for biology.

You could describe this bias as an interest in the processor rather than the processed. The focus is on the tightly-wound gadget (the mill) rather than the loose bulk of the material to be processed (sugarcane). I think we live in a world which has come to appreciate compact devices over extensive natural territories. This is the same emphasis which rates railway locomotives as more interesting than the permanent way, that prefers great men and prime movers of all kinds to the mass of ordinary people, that appreciates mountains but not plains.

Machines (sugarcane mills, locomotives, computers) have intricate, interlocking, complex parts. When in operation, they are energetic, acting rather than acted upon. They grab our attention more readily than the apparently inert materials that they process. The term capital, which is a cognate of cattle, captures this machinery in general. Capital is a stock rather than a flow.

The relative importance of the mill and the sugarcane which feeds it is, in a more realistic view, equal. There’s no point having a mill if the cane doesn’t grow. A smartphone is little use without the Internet. It is important to cultivate a proper understanding of the way our machines depend on larger systems and supply chains, and to appreciate these larger systems for themselves. There is a different kind of interdependence, larger and more consequential than the interlocking complexities of machinery.

The Australian writer Bruce Pascoe has described Aboriginal life and care for the land as a “gentle braid”. There were no smoking mills in Australia before the colonists arrived, though Pascoe believes that agriculture existed in a so-called pristine form (not imported from elsewhere). Indigenous knowledge of botany facilitates farming as well as hunter-gatherer lifestyles. It’s interesting to consider the different texture and properties of this indigenous knowledge, when compared to the knowledge of the colonizer. For one thing, indigenous knowledge would have been passed down orally and by demonstration, and took the form of practices rather than theories. In a sense, indigenous knowledge is practiced as if it was a matter of appropriateness—“we do it this way because we have found this method to produce the best results”. The stereotypically scientific knowledge of the coloniser is more theoretical and has a deductive rather than inductive basis—“our theory tells us to try this alteration in order to scale up the process”. A theory holds the promise of adaptability to new circumstances, whereas an established practice, while effective, might be denigrated as little more than matter of tradition and appropriateness, unable to cope with a new situation.

The notorious deaths of the explorers Burke and Wills were caused by a lack of engagement with indigenous knowledge. They were cooking and eating bread made from nardoo flour, in imitation of the Aboriginals, but failing to prepare the nardoo seeds correctly. They starved to death because their nardoo-based diet was not nutritious. What they were missing was not a biological theory of the nardoo plant, but a practical recipe for preparing nardoo flour.

I am not sure what the moral of the story of Burke and Wills is (perhaps it was just a case of arrogance) but it highlights the essential role played by practices that may not be scientifically substantiated, that are yet to be systematized. A perspective that decentres science would take account of the significance of these practices, of folk knowledge and the particularity of the various crops we all depend on for sustenance.

When thinking about this, the practice of pixel art comes to mind as an example of a non-mechanized form of activity. Although pixel artists use computers, they barely use any tools other than a palette of colours and the ability to select a pixel with the mouse. There’s no real reason why pixel art couldn’t be practiced on paper with a pencil grid and a set of crayons or paints. The pixel artist doesn’t care about the CPU or the complex possibilities of coding. All there is is the blank canvas and the colours.

The link between pixel art and the gentle braid of agriculture in pre-colonial Australia is perhaps a bit tenuous. I’m not claiming that both are simply uncomplicated. Both avoid major investments in machinery and capital, but they are not without complications. The pixel artist can bring all of his or her skill and intelligence to bear on the work, despite not engaging in any meaningful sense with the computer as a machine. The Aboriginal person doesn’t need to practice any kind of scientific method to have a extremely nuanced and comprehensive grasp of the landscape and its ecosystems.

The grid underlying pixel art doesn’t imply any kind of stratification. It doesn’t have a centre, much as a rhizomatic understanding of human relationships doesn’t have a centre. There is no monolithic absolute taproot in a rhizomatic system—a society characterized by what Édouard Glissant called the poetics of relation. A landscape roamed over and criss-crossed by desire lines and remembered associations is similarly gridded (though, admittedly, in a less regular manner). The pixels of an image are simply packed together “like squares of wheat” (this is a phrase from Philip Larkin’s poem The Whitsun Weddings). Although there are straight lines, there are no rules per se—neither scientific laws nor customary regulations. The pixel grid, like the natural world of the outback or the bush, is a experienced as a simple medium, despite the fact that what you can do there is fairly constrained—fairly circumscribed. It takes considerable skill to make a success of it. Somehow, you have to learn the ropes of foraging as a hunter-gatherer, or of drawing and painting as a pixel artist.

The image of a the simple digital canvas seems, in its pristine quality, to evoke the pristine environment of Australia before colonisation. This parallel between the object of interest of media studies and that of agronomy isn’t deep—it’s just a case, to me at least, of comparable moods or moments. Like the immaterial and (in spite of NFTs) unownable image world of pixel art, Australia was never a totally unstratified terra nullius, always a landscape into which associations were constantly being layered by its inhabitants. Bruce Pascoe evokes an anticapitalist paradise:

There were no fences for property delineation in Australia. Fences were sometimes built to enclose or herd animals but they were constructed in such a way as not to impede progress across the landscape. Instead, boundaries of language and lore were described on trees and rock and in song and dance. Everybody knew where they stood and although they had responsibility for geographic regions and features and could pass that responsibility to other members of the clan, they could never own it personally. —“Capital” by Bruce Pascoe in Meanjin, Summer 2021

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fitnessequipmentmovers · 11 months ago

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moosanbasit · 1 year ago

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ameliiamodi · 1 year ago

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smivic · 1 year ago

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Dancing Boxes

As you likely know, we’ve been relocating.

I’m still taken aback when someone asks for my address and I can no longer say Cuprite Trail, Flagstaff, Arizona. Now I have to say my new locale: Tiffany Lane, Hamilton, Montana. From the southern border to the northern one, from the Colorado Plateau to the Bitterroot Valley, from the land of Coronado to the land of Lewis and Clark.

By June 7 the big fun had started, dancing boxes, an empty garage, and then sylvan green. . Boxes, the legos of packing, loading, unloading, and arranging, were purchased. A slow track started playing in my head, Christian McBride on a string bass, insistent but not strident.

We stacked, piled, and boxed. We sought quotes from commercial moving companies: first $16K, then down to $14K after a schedule change (both assuming we did the packing). I saw that a 26 foot truck could be rented from Penske for $3K. We filed the reservation, thinking that skated past the cost challenge.

We continued packing. Piles of stuff and of boxes rose. Hours, days, several weeks. It seemed like we were supporting Home Depot’s cash flow. As the boxes closed and the garage filled, a sense of soft eviction joined with bursts of losing something we needed, “where are the leashes? …packed” “damn. Our artifacts and life spaces, our histories, our relationships were being slowly disappeared right under our noses.

The boxes were organized, the packing done. This blissful feeling was illusory because then help appeared. There were three teams in our unstable scrum.

First came the hired help, Firemen Movers, a local group run by firemen, using various friends and younger relatives, all energetic all unrelenting, all strong like bulls. They stacked our stuff like I never thought possible like ants on a sugar pile.

Our stacked boxes were being disappeared, dancing from place to place in the Rubik’s Cube. Everything not nailed down went in (boxes, suitcases, tools, papers: Have you seen…? Many times). All moved into carefully built walls of randomized (any box with any other box).

Second, the family help, son Adam and granddaughter Joia from Alaska, along with Son Nathan and his children, Alielah, Twilla, and Micah from Arizona, arrived. They presumed they would be loading, until they saw just effective the kids were at arranging the perfect Rubik’s Cube slices. Then they grabbed other stuff to carry into the garage, more stuff disappeared.

Third, Us. We helped where we could, but it seemed we were more often dazed by the noisy monsoon that was rolling over us as last minute discoveries were made.

I had guessed that we would need a big truck, 26 feet, for $3K. It was supposed to hold the contents of a 1300 sq ft house. Ours was 1800. Some big items were being left behind, so we should be OK, right? Sure, but just in case we’d upped the ante, I’d added a 6x12 trailer, another $350. Soon the big truck was filled. Then the trailer was filled. But some important stuff was still homeless.

Quickly I had to throw a Hail Mary and pick up a smaller truck, another $1150, praying that it would solve our problems. Whew. All was in. We were still much less than half the cost, not yet counting fuel costs.

Then it became the family adventure. The road called, time to go. I imagined Aaron Copeland leading his Fanfare For The Common Man. The convoy began. A pickup with trailer, big truck, small truck, an SUV as a dog & cat taxi.

The first stop came quickly, the afternoon of the load-in. In we went, 4 adults, 1 college student, 3 children, three dogs (cats stayed in the SUV). Two rooms, where to sleep, where to eat, when to stop. Repeat the next night.

Then it was time to land, the promised land. Time for cymbals and kettle drums. Where to land?

This was day 3 of our Don Quixote adventure. The new house wasn’t ready and there were no “ready” promises offered. Oops. damn! Some welcome, no cymbals, no kettles drums.

It was time to adapt. Stuff was stuffed into the 3 garages next to the new house. More chaos, much too little organization. Our hope was that we’d use two for furniture, one for as many boxes, bins as possible. But, like the loading, the unloading became a further shuffling as everything, boxes, et al., danced again.

We also launched a frontal assault on the house provider, with bombast, with desperation, with some begging and attempted negotiation.

When would we really land? At day eight the walkthrough was finally scheduled. Good. Victory? Not really. Adam and Joia had gone home several days earlier. Nathan, Alielah, Twilla, and Micah left the day before the walkthrough.

Did the initial bass line play again? Not really. It became a bit of a dirge, with Jessie, me, Jessie’s daughter, Traci, and son-in-law, Joe, from near Hamilton, at the center of the lament. Long hours in the Bitterroot heat. Lift, open, carry, stow, repeat, “have you seen?”, repeat. We had labelled many of the containers, but didn’t know where they were in the garages. The dancing boxes were moving to their own rhythms.

Finally we did take a break from the dirge, thankfully, for a drive up Lost Horse Creek, our sylvan escape, sinking into the local luxuriance of green and the flowing water, lots of splashing and playing. Time has now passed. Boxes have re-introduced themselves. Furniture has been re-appeared. The silver, Zuni-inlayed money clip given to me by Sue Richardson at her trading post in Gallup NM, with my cash collected from Road Scholar tips is now back. We started to celebrate our anniversary at 6 weeks and a day. It felt pretty dang special.

There have been hills to climb. These changes will get easier to accept, I hope (no matter how much easier it gets, no matter where my dwelling is, I will always be from the Colorado Plateau and the Southwest).

Thanks to all who’ve thrown themselves into our adventure.

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seoworkslinks · 3 years ago

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webnexpert · 3 years ago

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thorraborinn · 4 years ago

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How do the Norse Gods and how did the Norse people view disability?

Hávamál 71 reads:

Haltr ríðr hrossi, hjörð rekr handar vanr, daufr vegr ok dugir, blindr er betri en brenndr séi, nýtr manngi nás.

A halt (unable to walk) person rides a horse, a person with one hand wields a sword, a deaf person fights and succeeds, to be blind is better than to be burnt, nobody has use of a corpse.

In those days it was probably somewhat more likely than it is today to become disabled as a result of an injury, and there were fewer ways to increase accessibility to people whether it was the result of an injury or not. It was important for everyone to see to it that everyone was well-cared for, because they would have been very keenly aware that they would possibly, maybe even likely, find themselves with a different set of capabilities than the ones they once had. To some extent, this applies to everyone who lives long enough for age to affect them; Egils saga shows Egill struggling with the loss of his strength and vision. Because Norse people lived in a society where an individual’s wellbeing was more clearly tied to the wellbeing of others, especially in the household (which was often much bigger than a modern nuclear family-type household), disabled people usually would have been surrounded by others in relations that are already defined by reciprocal interdependence, no matter the ability of the people involved.

When discussing or depicting disability, Norse literature such as the Hávamál quote above does have the unfortunate tendency to show that disabled people are valuable because they are still able to do something or other, or because of respect owed them for former accomplishments. For example, Ívarr the boneless is described as physically disabled, but so intelligent that he has incredible accomplishments by means other than those that apply to strong warriors. I don’t know of a clear example where it comes out and says point-blank that everyone is valuable no matter what, whether they are producing something or not. However, I believe that’s for two reasons. One is that most of the evidence depicting disabled people is found in the Icelandic sagas, where they are often part of the story in a way that what they do is a mover of the story in question, so it will tend to involve people with an active public life. The other reason is that it may not have been considered something that needed to be specified. The laws, at least the ones we have record of, made it clear that everyone was to be cared for -- to the extent possible for the law to describe, it was always clear where someone landed in the legally-mandated networks of relations of support.

I don’t want to sugar-coat. The Norse world was probably very hard on many disabled people, and many individual Norse people likely treated them inhumanely. That wasn’t okay, any more than it is when it happens now.

But the main point that I think the Hávamál quote is trying to make is that all people have a place, and in a society based more on networks of mutual support than on the individualism that pervades western society, it’s up to everyone collectively to find the best place and role for others in those networks, whether their needs and capabilities are shaped by what we would consider a disability or not. Perhaps there’s a way to research this, and I haven’t done it, but I suspect that they didn’t really have a clear image of a “default” person with an archetypal set of abilities anyway, and when heroes are kings are described in terms of their many abilities and attributes this is always treated as some sort of exception.

As regards the gods, it’s worth reminding that some of the gods are themselves disabled. Óðinn has lost an eye and also pertains to mental illness in a way that is difficult for us to pinpoint exactly; Þórr has chronic pain as a result of the piece of stone shrapnel lodged in his head; Týr of course famously lost a hand. Hǫðr’s blindness is depicted tragically, unfortunately, although there is an argument to be made that that particular story was heavily amended shortly before becoming the version that we have, so the story of Loki taking advantage of his blindness to kill Baldr may not be representative of a deep stratum of Norse myth.

I think that to modern people the idea of gods who are disabled might be a little strange to think about. We’re used to the idea that a god can just “do anything,” and certainly we can pray to these disabled gods about things that are completely outside of what any human can do. But I think that if nothing else, the Norse gods affirm that there is no such thing as a “default” human being which disabled people are unable to live up to; we all have unique abilities and it shouldn’t be the job of disabled people to force themselves into conformity with the expectations of a society that idealizes a particular set of abilities. And needless to say, they would have no patience for ableism.

#anon #ask #heathenry

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allaboutmoving · 4 months ago

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bantumover · 2 years ago

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smolbeandrabbles · 3 years ago

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A Masterlist Excerpt

What you might call a ‘Capsule Collection’ of my fics. My favourites of the bunch.

Bloodline Danny Rayburn: Sway (Complete) Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

—

Animal Kingdom Andrew ‘Pope’ Cody: Sirens / Everybody Gonna Talk / Be Kind (Request) / Ready For It? - x OC

Australia Emmett Dutton: When She Says Baby / Living Proof

Beautiful Kate Ned Kendall: Somewhere On A Beach / Play It Again / Come What May (Holiday Fic + Soulmate!AU)

Black Sea Fraser: Quit Breaking Up With Me / Keep The Girl / Makin’ Waves / Hurry Baby / We Were Like Captain Marvel Talos / Director Keller: Science & Faith 1 - x OC

Director Keller: Still - x OC

The King Henry IV: Hail To The King (Platonic)

Knowing Phil Beckman: End of the World The Land of Steady Habits Anders Harris: Paper Rings

Lost River Dave: Speechless / Undisclosed Desires / Getaway Driver / Le Bien Qui Fait Mal (Request)

Mississippi Grind Gerry: Moderation

The Outsider Ralph Anderson: Sure Be Cool If You Did / Bienvenue From Hell, Mon Amour / Cold Night / My Last Name / Trouble - Platonic (Request) Halfway Home / Control / How Not To - Shifter!Reader (Complete)

Prime Mover Johnnie: End Up With You / My Oh My

Ready Player One Nolan Sorrento: Sugar / Spice [by @mandy23bwrites]

Loser Like Me (Intern!Sorrento) / Video Games / Nolan Baby (Holiday Fic)

Robin Hood (2018) Sheriff of Nottingham: Selfish (Note: Unfinished) Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

Young God Rogue One: A Star Wars Story Director Krennic: My Eyes / Champagne - x OC

Next Contestant / Cross Me / I Do Now / Grace, Too (Requests) I Think He Knows / Hero / Protector / I Know Places (Request Series - Complete)

Secret Men’s Business Doug Peterson: Good Goodbyes

Spies in Disguise Killian / Tristan McFord: Mine / Blank Space / Feel Somethin’ / Glitter Makes People Happy / Fresh Start Fever / The Scientist - x OC / Penguin, James Penguin (Holiday Fic)

Dangerous Kind Tangle Vince Kovac: Love The Way You Love Me - x OC

Untogether Martin: I’ll Name The Dogs (Request)

— Full List —

#These links are all fixed - the full list might take me longer to do so this one is a good place to start for now #Masterlist #[Abridged Version]#How times change!#And now it makes me smile SO much to watch Killian getting love. Deserved!#long post is banned right?#but that's what it is!

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deeptimesjournal · 4 years ago

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Land Acknowledgments

Acknowledging Indigenous Land and Peoples

Why Land Acknowledgments?

In this web of community, we collectively name, honor and attempt to hear the voices of those who have been silenced – both human and more than human. The travesties of ecological destruction and climate chaos share roots with the travesties of genocide, refugee crises, food insecurity, lack of access to education, clean water and health care…and so much more.

Underlying all of this lies the cancer of conquest, white supremacy, and colonization. The ideas that one life is worth more than another, that land can be parceled, sold, and bulldozed, that Indigenous people’s lifeways are less “civilized” or less “productive” than “Western” society all contribute to the ecological loss that so many of us mourn. It is therefore vital that we acknowledge the Indigenous ancestral lands and peoples in the places where we practice the Work That Reconnects.

A Land Acknowledgment For This Moment in Time

Note: I started and stopped multiple times trying to compose a land acknowledgment from a future generation. I couldn’t do it. I eventually realized my writer’s block came from my feeling that, as a settler, Indigenous futurities are not mine to imagine. It is my job to listen and learn, and to use my role as an educator to amplify Indigenous voices. This land acknowledgment is therefore my own voice, in the here and the now. May the futures that Indigenous people imagine come true as brilliantly as a rainbow after a rainstorm.

I write this land acknowledgment from the hills east of the Kwinitekw, within the traditional territories of the Nipmuc and Sokoki Abenaki. I acknowledge the Massachusett and Wampanoag to the east, the Mohican and Pocumtuck to the West, the Mohegan and Pocumtuck to the south, and the Pennacook (Abenaki) to the north. I am grateful for the female leader Weetamoo’s strength and strategic acumen in staving off colonial settlers within Wampanoag lands prior to King Philip’s War. I recognize the lasting impact of the massacre at Peskeomskut in 1676, during which thousands of Indigenous women and children were slaughtered. I am grateful for David, Diane, Pam, Brent and others at the Nolumbeka Project for how they invite people to more accurately understand pre- and post-contact Indigenous life in this place, and for how they directly engage the community in repairing relationships, healing land, and celebrating the future.

How To Craft A Land Acknowledgment

Within whose ancestral homelands do you live, work, and play? Perhaps your own! If not and you are uncertain, www.native-land.ca is a helpful resource for finding out.

Dr. Debbie Reese (Nambé Pueblo) offers this guide for thoughtfully preparing a land acknowledgment: https://americanindiansinchildrensliterature.blogspot.com/2019/03/are-you-planning-to-do-land.html

Before diving further into this issue of Deep Times, and perhaps every morning when you wake up, I invite you to say aloud the names of the Indigenous peoples whose homelands you dwell within. I invite you to learn about the historical and contemporary leaders of those nations, and to learn to say their names correctly. I invite you to learn Indigenous place and river names, and to use them in colloquial conversation. I invite you to learn about what projects the Indigenous communities where you live are working on, and to ask if and how you can be helpful. (Settlers especially, please remember the if here.) I invite you to feel in your body what it means to be a guest in someone else’s home, and how you might be the best guest you can be. I invite you to give gratitude for the people who have stewarded land for thousands of years. They are still here.

In Gratitude,

Cara Michelle Silverberg

Age: 35

Cara Michelle Silverberg is a somatic educator, camp director, writer, mover, and herbalist living in Nipmuc and Abenaki homelands (also called Western Massachusetts). She is enthusiastic about fostering community experiences that help people to explore and express themselves, their relationships with place, and their relationships with each other. Dedicated to trauma-informed experiential learning and wholistic leadership, Cara aims to co-create a more just, caring, courageous, and playful world. She designs and facilitates curricula for environmental/agricultural educational initiatives, land healing projects, and leadership development programs. Cara works in both Jewish and secular communities, with both youth and adults. Her favorite times of year are autumn, maple sugaring season, and the Jewish period of time called the Omer in early Spring. She was a member of the first Earth Leadership Cohort in 2014. You can check out some of her writing at www.onthefringesofplace.com.

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mustangshelby04 · 5 years ago

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Boston Boy - Chapter 13

Kate and Chris followed the realtor around the two-story penthouse apartment. They were on the very edge of Tribeca with a great view of the Brooklyn Bridge. They had spent the last week looking at apartments. It had been three months since they had found out they were going to be parents. Chris had had to deal with some previous obligations, so their moving in together had been delayed some.

Scott spent a lot of time in New York, so he had been keeping Kate company. The press had gotten wind of Kate’s pregnancy. One of the nurses at the hospital in Florida had leaked the information to a local station. Then the twenty-four-hour news cycle had picked up the story while Kate and the Evans’ family were in the air flying to Virginia. By the time they landed, the whole world knew Chris Evans was going to be a dad. His family had been shocked, but excited.

Kate’s family, however, hadn’t been pleased. They were worried that their daughter hadn’t been in her relationship long enough and that she didn’t truly understand what she was taking on. Chris and Kate had spent a solid three hours with the serious grilling her parents had dished out. Chris had sworn (multiple times) that he was going to take care of Kate and their baby. In the end, they were still worried, but a little less so. The trip to Christmastown at Busch Gardens with both families together had been helpful assuaging the Allen’s fears some.

Since the news broke, the paparazzi had made it their mission to get as much as they could about Chris’s baby mama. Kate was almost constantly hounded for pictures and information. Her family was contacted on a regular basis. Even her biological father had been tracked down. That hadn’t gone over well with Kate. Especially since the man had tried to contact her. She had had a complete nervous breakdown over it which landed her in the hospital overnight. Lisa had come to be with Kate since she could get there faster than anyone. She had stayed with Kate until Chris had gotten there.

Kate had also been worried about everything affecting her new job, but Danielle had assured her not to worry about it. Chris gave her as much advice as possible. He had decided to ask Megan to help Kate out so she didn’t have to deal with the press hounding her. Kate was in almost constant contact with his publicist and had quickly become friends with her.

When Chris had finally come to New York to stay for a while, he and Kate had had their first true argument. He had lined up apartments to look at that were well out of her price point. She hadn’t found it fair that she couldn’t pay her half of the rent. After yelling at each other for over an hour and running April out of the apartment, they had finally come to a compromise that he would take care of the rent and she could pay the utilities. So, here they were, following the realtor around their fourth apartment in three days.

“This one has five bedrooms.” Lacy the realtor said. “The view of the Bridge from both of the terraces is just gorgeous! The kitchen has all the best, state of the art appliances.” She led them around the wall and into the living room. “And just look at that view from the great room!”

“It’s beautiful.” Kate said.

“The fireplace is fully functional. Gas, of course.”

“Of course.” “And this…. This is my favorite feature!” Lacy led them back around the wall into the kitchen and did her best Vanna White impression to show off the huge bookcase that framed the stairs. “I remember you mentioning having a lot of books, Kate. This would be perfect for you.”

“That’s pretty unique.” Chris said, admiring the bookshelf as they walked up the stairs.

“This apartment is unique. Each bedroom has its own bathroom. Even the guest bedroom on the first floor. The master bedroom is just grand! So much room! You have a walk-through closet with plenty of storage space. And there’s a bedroom right across the hall from the master.” Lacy’s eyes drifted to Kate’s baby bump. “Perfect for a nursery.” Kate rolled her eyes at Chris and he squeezed her hand. “The terrace is just up here.” Lacy led them up another flight of stairs and opened the doors to the private roof terrace. “It’s so cozy, yet so open.”

“And it has a hot tub.” Kate said.

“That’ll be your best friend after you give birth. Trust me.” Chris squeezed Kate’s hand again to keep her from snapping at the woman. “You’ll need that escape for some mommy/daddy time. So, what do you guys think?”

Chris looked at Kate. “I love the view.”

“It’s beautiful.” Kate agreed, heading back inside and down to the master bedroom.

“I’ll give you two a minute to talk.” Lacy walked out of the room.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Chris asked as she explored the walk-through closet, opening and closing the closet doors. “This place is great. It has plenty of bedrooms for when our families come to visit. There’s that huge terrace with grass for the dogs on the first floor. That kitchen is exactly the one you were hoping for. That cool built-in bookshelf by the stairs is amazing.” He took her hand and led her to the room across from the master bedroom. “And she may be sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, but she’s right about this room being perfect for the nursery.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and placed his hands on her bump. “I can just picture the crib right there and your glider right there….”

“It’s a lot of money.” Kate said. “Hey, we talked about this. You’re not supposed to worry about that.”

“I know. I know! I just feel so guilty….”

Chris shook his head and turned her around to face him. “No guilt. Ok? My little family here deserves the best and if I can provide that for you guys, I will.” Kate beamed up at him. “What?”

“You called me your family.”

He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile. “Well, yeah. You and Jelly Bean…. You’re my family.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to know if Jelly Bean is watermelon pink or blueberry blue?”

Chris laughed. “I’m sure.” He kissed her quickly. “So, what about this place?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His face broke out into a huge grin and he pulled her to him. They both laughed as he lifted her up into his arms and carried her out of the bedroom. Lacy was waiting in the kitchen, scrolling through her tablet. “We’ll take it.” They both announced.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Scott and Kate stood side by side watching the movers maneuver the couch into place while Gally and Dodger checked the new place out. Chris had gotten Dodger while in Savannah filming and Kate had instantly taken to the sweet dog. Dodger had been staying with her in New York while Chris had been gone. Poor Gally had been annoyed at having to move, then having to put up with a new dog, and then having to move again. Dodger had been good for the older dog, though. He got Gally to move around and explore. He was also super protective of Kate. He had quickly figured out that she was pregnant and had taken it upon himself to be her protector. Sometimes he wouldn’t even let Chris near her.

The movers looked over for approval and Scott directed them to adjust the couch slightly to the right. This had been the routine all day. The living room was the last of the rooms to get furnished. Kate and Chris had gone to Ikea (at her insistence) to furnish the apartment. Scott had tagged along and helped pick out the furniture. He had even helped design the closet of Kate’s dreams.

April walked into the kitchen with a large box and set it on the counter. “That’s the last box.” She announced before turning to look out the windows. “Man, this place is awesome and I am super jealous.”

“It’s not like you won’t be making use of one of those guest rooms as often as possible.” Kate joked.

“Of course, I will! At least until the baby gets here. Then I’ll just skip the screaming-through-the-night thing.”

“That’s cheating.”

“That’s life. Do you want help unpacking your pots and pans?” “I haven’t even figured out where everything should go, yet.”

“So, that’s a no?”

“For now.”

“Breather?” Scott asked, gesturing at the newly set up living room. “Sounds heavenly.” Kate followed Scott and April and took a seat on one of the recliners. “When does Chris get back?” April asked. “Tonight.”

“Of course, he missed the moving in part.” Scott joked. “Leaves all the heavy lifting to the girls.”

“Not very Captain America of him.” April laughed.

“Oh, he’s not getting entirely out of it.” Kate assured them. “I’ll make sure to leave some boxes for him to unpack.”

“Don’t lift anything heavy.” Scott warned. “You know you’re not supposed to.”

“Hence the leaving stuff for your brother to do.” Kate sighed and rubbed her bump. “You know that sneaky bastard actually bought this place?”

“Really?” April asked.

“Yes. He didn’t tell me until afterwards. Now he wants to negotiate helping pay the bills.”

“Kitty Kat, you should just let him.” Scott said. “My brother likes to take care of the ones he cares about the most. I think you kind of trump the whole family now.”

Kate laughed. “I doubt that. I could never trump y’all’s mom.”

“Ok, that’s true. But seriously, don’t stress yourself out over money. I know you like to be all Miss Independent, but just let him win that battle. You’ll both feel better for it in the long run.”

“He’s not your sugar daddy.” April said. “He’s your partner. Let him be your partner.” Kate sighed. “Fine.” She pushed gently on her stomach and rolled her eyes when she felt the funny bubbles speed up. “This one is having a dance party.”

“Can I join in?” Chris asked from the entryway. Kate turned to see her boyfriend standing there with a grin on his face, petting the dogs as they competed for his affection. “I left early because I hated leaving you to move in to our place without me. Oh! Don’t get up!” He rushed over to kneel down and kiss Kate before she could move any further.

“Hi,” She breathed, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“Hi.”

“And on that note,” April stood up. “I’m heading out.”

“You don’t have to go.” Kate insisted.

“I do. I’ve got a deadline tomorrow and I’ve still got some things to finish for it.” She blew Kate a kiss. “I’ll call you later, lovebug.”

Chris squeezed in next to Kate and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she put her legs over his. “The place is looking good.”

“Thank Scott. If there’s anything you want to move, just move it.” Kate said. “I’m not stuck on the floorplan.”

“I am!” Scott said, offended. “I worked hard telling those movers where everything needed to go.”

Chris laughed. “I think it looks great. We’ll leave it the way it is.” He leaned in and stage whispered to Kate, “For now.”

Scott threw a pillow at his brother. “That’s it. I’m leaving, too.”

“Oh, stay!” Kate protested.

“Nope. I’m giving you two time together. But don’t think you’re getting out of baby shower planning.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Can’t you just give me presents without the fanfare and the corny games?”

“Hell no! My sisters, my mother, April, and I have plans. The Evans family has been waiting a long time for this.” He clapped Chris on the shoulder and kissed Kate’s cheek before walking out.

Chris looked at Kate, running his fingers across her temple and through her hair. “Hi.”

She pulled him to her and kissed him deeply. “Stop leaving me.”

“I promise you’re coming with me for the next trip.”

“Which is the Civil War premiere?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure you want me to go?”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I want you to go!” “It’s just…. We haven’t really done anything in the public eye and I know you’re private and….” She trailed off when she noticed his patient smile.

“Babe, it’s not like the world doesn’t know who you are. But even if they didn’t, I want you there with me anyway. I want to show you LA and I want you to be a part of my life. All of my life.”

Kate sighed. “There’s also another factor that makes me nervous.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll be escorting a whale around.”

“Shut up. You’re not a whale.” Chris put his hand on her swollen belly. “You’re absolutely gorgeous and the doctor says that you’re actually not gaining as much weight as you should be.”

“I know. I’m losing it. My mom says she did the same thing with me and my sister.”

He smiled at her. “So Jelly Bean is really moving around in there, huh?”

“You can’t feel it?” Chris shook his head. “You will eventually. Right now there’s a party going on in my uterus. Pretty sure Jelly Bean got a DJ for it.”

Chris laughed and leaned down to speak to her stomach. “Hey, kiddo, keep it down in there. Mommy needs some rest.”

“I think he or she is excited by all the moving around I’ve been doing today.”

“Then we probably should just be very still and not add to it….” Chris started to pull away with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Shut up and take me to bed.” Kate said. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Chris leaned down and swept her up into his arms. She squealed and laughed before begging Chris to put her down. He relented at the stairs and followed her up, both of them stripping their clothes off as fast as possible.

When they got to their bedroom, Chris was happy to find that Kate had already gotten the bed set up and he pulled her to him as he sat down on the mattress. She stood in front of him in just her underwear and he placed his hands on her bump. He leaned forward and kissed a trail from one side to the other. Kate reached down and lifted his face to her.

“You are so beautiful.” Chris whispered against her lips.

She pressed her lips against his and climbed on top of him. He held her against him as he worked to get her bra off. Her breasts, which had already been voluptuous, had filled out some and he brought one of her nipples into his mouth. She groaned, eyes fluttering, as she ground down on his growing erection. Her nerve endings were much more sensitive these days and pregnancy sex was mind blowing.

Chris switched to her other breast as he palmed the globes of her ass. Her head fell back and her nails raked through his hair. His fingers dipped into the front of her panties and he groaned. “So wet.”

“No more foreplay.” Kate growled. She stood up and got rid of her underwear before yanking his off. Chris fell back onto the bed and Kate climbed on top of him. He let out a guttural sound as she sunk down on him. She began to rock on top of him and he grabbed her hips to help her keep her balance. Curses and moans fell from their lips as she rode him fast and hard. He sat up suddenly and turned them, popping out of her. She got on all fours and he took her from behind. She let out a yell as he entered her again at the same time he flicked her clit harshly. There were no sheets on the bed for her to grab, so her fingers dug into the mattress as she grasped for something to hold onto.

“Fuck.” Chris cried.

“Chris, harder.” Kate begged.

“I don’t want to hurt the baby.” “You won’t!”

“But….”

“Baby, please! I’m almost there.”

Chris growled and started to pound into her, still holding back some. He shuddered as he felt his balls tighten just before he spilled into her. A moment later, her orgasm hit her and her walls clamped down on him. He fell forward, his chest against her back. They stayed still as their bodies shuddered and began to recover from powerful finishes. After a long moment, Chris pulled out of her and they both collapsed to the bed.

When Chris finally found his voice again, he looked over at Kate. “Are you ok?”

“Are you going to ask me that every time we have sex?”

He chuckled. “Probably.”

Kate reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, rubbing her thumb against his beard. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Good.” He kissed her palm. “So, are you ready for this?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re ready to go again?”

Chris let out his loud, energetic laugh. “Fuck no! I meant are you ready to live with me?”

Kate laughed. “Yeah. I think so. This experience can’t be worse than the last one, right?”

“Was the last one Asshole McGhee?”

“Yes.”

“Oh yeah.” Chris nodded. “This will be a piece of cake compared to that.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Kate grumbled to herself as she put the dishes in the dishwasher. For the third night in a row, Chris had left the dinner dishes in the sink. They had been moved in and living together for three weeks now. Learning the other’s ways was a chore.

Kate hated leaving messes in the kitchen. Chris didn’t mind leaving the mess until the next day.

Kate did her laundry the way her mother had taught her by separating everything out. Chris just threw everything in the washer at once.

Kate used coasters to keep from having to clean rings off of surfaces. Chris had apparently never heard of coasters.

Kate kept things well stocked. Chris would drink out of the carton or pitcher and put it back with only a tiny amount left in the bottom.

“He’s been a bachelor for so long, I think he’s forgotten his manners.” Kate muttered.

She wasn’t a complete domestic angel, though.

Loose hair had always made her sick to her stomach, so she never cleaned out her brushes or the shower drain. Chris had had to clean the drain out once already and it was starting to pile up again. She also took up a whole side of the shower with her bath products. It amazed him how many shampoos, conditioners, body washes, face washes, and shaving creams one woman could have. And that didn’t even cover the hair products and hair tools she used! Those took up a whole cabinet of the vanity. Her makeup took up all four drawers on her side of the bathroom vanity. She also had feminine products taking up one drawer on his side of the vanity. Every time he stepped foot in their bathroom, he wondered where the hell she had kept all of it in her garage apartment.

“Hey, babe!” Chris called from the living room. “Come watch a movie with me.”

“Not right now.”

“Please?”

“I’m busy right now.” She lowered her voice. “Doing the dishes again.”

Her boyfriend walked into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. “Finish the dishes tomorrow. I promise it’ll be worth your while tonight.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and she rolled her eyes.

“You are literally a horny frat boy.”

He scrunched his face up in confusion. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I’m still debating. Why don’t you help me finish the dishes? Then I can come watch a movie.”

“Ok.” Chris sighed and pretended to roll his sleeves up. He completely missed that she was slightly annoyed with him. Once they were finished, she leaned against the counter for a moment and rubbed her belly. Chris watched her with a concerned look. “You ok?”

“Yeah. Just…. Ate too much and Jelly Bean is protesting the smaller space.” She gave him a small smile. “I’m going to go put on some PJs and then we can watch a movie.”

“Ok.” He leaned down and kissed her gently. “I’ll get the movie ready. Will you grab me a pair of sweats while you’re up there?”

“Sure.” She mounted the stairs and took them slowly. After changing into a pair of yoga pants and a big sweater, she threw her hair up into a high ponytail and grabbed a pair of Chris’ sweatpants. He was taking his clothes off as she came back downstairs and tossing them in a pile next to the couch. “Are we watching a movie or making a porno?”

Chris laughed loudly and shook his head. “Well, I was planning to watch a movie, but if you’re interested….”

“I most distinctly am not. That’s the last thing we need is a sex tape of us floating around out there.” She tossed him his pants. “Did you make popcorn?”

“We just ate.”

Kate blinked at him for a moment and then gestured at her belly. “I have no control over what this one craves. Start the movie and I’ll make some popcorn.”

“I can make it.”

She waved him away. “I’ve got it. Just start the movie.” Kate walked into the kitchen and opened one of the cabinets to pull out some popcorn. She tossed it into the microwave and watched it turn around and around. By the time she was finished, the movie had already started. She narrowed her eyes at it. “What is this?”

“That movie you said you wanted to watch.” Chris said, taking a handful of popcorn as she sat down.

“This doesn’t look like a movie I want to watch.”

“Yeah. It’s 28 Days Later.”

“Huh?”

“You said you liked it.”

“I never said I liked 28 Days Later. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve told you I don’t do scary movies.”

“I know. I thought it was weird that you wanted to watch this, but….”

“I don’t want to watch this!”

“You said you did!”

“I said 28 Days, Chris! I wanted to watch 28 Days! The Sandra Bullock movie!” She looked at the TV where zombies were starting to attack. “Fuck! Turn it off!”

“It’s just a movie, babe.” She surged to her feet and walked out. “Kat!” Kate slammed the popcorn bowl down on the kitchen counter and marched up the stairs. Chris turned the movie off and followed her. “Hey, stop!”

“No.”

“What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t want to watch a horror movie. Especially a zombie one!”

“Ok. We won’t watch it.”

“Nope, we won’t because I’m going to bed.”

“Ok. What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been edgy with me all night.”

“Yes I have. Glad you finally noticed!”

“If you have something to say, then say it.”

“I don’t like the way you do things.”

“What?”

“You’re such a frat boy and I’m done debating about it. I don’t like this Chris!”

“Babe….”

“Don’t babe me. You never do the dishes.”

“I helped you do them tonight.”

“Because I asked you to. I have to ask you to help with them! You always just leave them in the sink and don’t rinse them or soak them or anything. That shit just gets caked on there and makes it harder to clean! It takes five minutes to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher! And you’re messy! I feel like I’m always cleaning up after you. I’ll have to go clean up your clothes in the living room!”

“I….”

“And what the fuck is up with you putting empty shit back in the fridge? Why can’t you just throw it away and add it to the grocery list? Why is that so hard for you? It’s common fucking courtesy.”

“Well, you’re no fucking picnic either!”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so god damn OCD about every little thing! Lighten up!”

“I’m sorry if I like things clean and orderly, Chris! I didn’t know that would be such an issue! And don’t tell me to fucking lighten up! You lighten up!”

“And how hard is it to clean the shower drain? It’s just some wet hair!”

“It makes me physically ill to even think about loose hair! And with the amount of throwing up I’ve been doing carrying your kid, sorry if I don’t want to add any more to it!”

“I didn’t ask you to carry my kid!” Kate’s eyes widened in shock and she slammed the bathroom door in his face, locking it tight. “Fuck!” Chris knew as soon as the words had left his mouth that he’d pushed it way too far. He hadn’t meant to get so angry and he really hadn’t meant what he’d just said. “Kat, I’m sorry!”

“Go away!”

“Please open the door.” “No!”

“Please, Kat. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the door, banging his head against it once in frustration as the tears fell down his cheeks.

Kate sat down on the edge of the bathtub and cried into her hands. She hadn’t meant to snap at Chris. She had been frustrated with him and then before she knew what was happening, she had exploded. She had meant to be rational when she was ready to talk about her issues with him, but hormones had gotten the best of her. Things had escalated too quickly.

“Baby, please open the door.” Chris said. His voice sounded horse and it cracked with emotion. “Please?”

“Why?”

“I didn’t mean it, Kat. I really didn’t. It was a stupid fucking thing to say and I didn’t mean it.”

Kate sighed and opened the door. Chris hadn’t been expecting it and fell backwards. He winced as his head bounced off the tile. “Oh!”

“Ow.” He looked up at her and chuckled. “Guess I deserved that.”

“A little bit.” She reached out to help him to his feet. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

“I shouldn’t have let it escalate like it did.” He pulled her to him. “I just love you so much and….” “What?”

“What?”

“You….”

“Oh.” Chris pulled away slightly to look down at her. “I said it.”

“Yeah.”

He grinned. “Felt kinda good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean it?”

“From the moment I met you, it’s been on the tip of my tongue. It felt really good to finally say it out loud.”

“You’re not just saying it to get out of trouble?”

“Hell no. I mean every syllable.”

“Good. Cause, you know, well…. I do, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to actually say it?”

“Maybe. Maybe I need some incentive.”

“Like….” He leaned down and kissed the spot on her neck just below her ear. “This?”

“Mmm….”

“Or this….” Chris moved his lips further down her neck, lightly biting her collarbone. “Closer.”

“How about this?” He reached up and gently held the sides of her face, taking a moment to look into her blue-green eyes. “I love you, Kat.”

“I love you, too, Chris.” She reached out and pulled him closer. He brought his lips to hers and her insides melted.

After a long, breathless moment, Chris placed his forehead against hers. “I’m so sorry, Kat. We need to start talking more openly instead of tiptoeing around each other.”

“I know.”

“Can we promise not to let our issues build and build till we explode again?”

“Well, I can try. Honestly, my hormones got me there and I overreacted. Once everything passed, I realized how stupid we sounded.”

Chris chuckled. “I’ll give you a pass for hormones.”

“Fair warning: I’m gonna use the hell out of it.”

He leaned down and kissed her again, rubbing his hand against her belly. “I’m happy you’re the one that’s carrying my kid. I can’t wait to meet our little Jelly Bean.”

Kate smiled against his lips. “Take me to bed, soldier. There’s makeup sex to be had.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chris lifted her into his arms and carried her through the closet and back into the bedroom.

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