#my beloved long-suffering knuckleheads

[twstinginthewind]

GUYS LOOK AT THIS BEAUTIFUL WORK PUMPKIN DID

I am absolutely blown away. I get little flutters every time I look at it.

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! You made my little scene w the pining fools of Heartslabyul look just like it did in my head. I'm so so so happy. 🧡💚🧡💚

"His fingertips brushed her sleeve as her hand passed over him. He allowed his hand to close gently over her wrist, and he drew her arm upwards, towards his face."

A commission for the effervescent @twstinginthewind of their OC Joker and Trey. Link to the short fic @twstinginthewind wrote that this artwork is based off!

Alternate lighting version 2

[ghostcat3000]

Does it have to be a scene? (I will answer this myself with a no). I am so weak for how your stories embrace the weird and absurd, not just for hilarity but also for love and difficulties. And your observations and characterizations are always so sharp and on point. I will never forget how you nailed Marie: "Something about her face, an expression of long-suffering patience mixed with pragmatism." Kudos maximus.

_________

You mean the aged-up version of this face?

I love this tiny side character because a) she does not give a shit. She has seen it all. I knew I had to make her one of Isak’s new Tromsø colleagues in Rest Easy. I loved coming up with the origin story of her and Mari’s relationship. (PS I saw that the subs had her as Maria just now and my soul went to heaven at that moment, but I've seen it as Marie elsewhere though and lalalalala I'm sticking to that story.)

Life to me is so absurd. Every friendship, every love story, every hardship, and big win comes with a healthy dollop of what the fuck?? I love being made aware of that because it makes life worth living. To know that we may not have it easy at all times but you just have to pay attention to the good stuff, the fun stuff, the weeeeird stuff, the way we pay attention to a beloved's face.

I am forever learning and if I can get a moment like that right, then there's the joy.

*

thank you, @hakkepippern. one day someone will do a glorious english translation of your work and I'll be able to crow about it to the rest of the non-Norsk speaking knucklehead populace.

from this meme

tell me things. if you don’t want me to keep the ask private, let me know.

[quarantineessayseries]

Issue #3: The Marble League

Basketball is an intricate, high-speed game filled with split-second, spontaneous decisions…. But that spontaneity isn't random.

-Malcolm Gladwell, author of Outliers

I think Malcolm Gladwell is a doofus. I don’t think that he’s all that smart, that his contributions to pop science are all that substantive, or that his opinions on policing and justice are all that good. By his own admission, he is first and foremost a storyteller, not a scientist. His books serve as a gateway to the “hard stuff”, he says. I guess there’s nothing wrong with that in theory, but I just get the sense that his books appeal less to people who want a gateway and more to people who want interesting anecdotes, tidbits of relevant science that make them feel smart, and a neat little wrap-up of inspiring platitudes (in that order).

That said, Gladwell is an undeniably good storyteller, and a very successful man. I haven’t listened to his basketball podcast, but I’m sure he understands the game and what makes it compelling. He also understands the raw magnetism of outliers.

My favorite sportswriter, Jon Bois, produces a show called Chart Party that plots vast quantities of data- for example, the field positions of every punt in NFL history- and he also focuses on the outliers. I’ve been thinking about Chart Party a lot during quarantine, because future videos in that style are going to feature a conspicuous, vertical gap above the year 2020.

Another consequence of sports being cancelled right now is that people who were watching them now have to watch something else. They can go on as many walks and make as much homemade sourdough as they want, but eventually they’re going to need a stand-in for the reliable spontaneity that sports provide, and Jelle Bakker will be there for them.

Jelle’s Marble Runs is a YouTube channel based in the Netherlands, and it’s going to hit a million subscribers before the end of quarantine. It has to. Bakker, who viewers never hear or see, creates enormous sand courses and LEGO stadiums and fills them with marbles. The annual Sand Marble Rally is pretty straightforward- twenty marbles are released down a sand course for a series of eight races- but other events like The Marblelympics feature an impressive lineup of unique events taking place over multiple weeks. Under Jelle, human Olympic sports like relay races, long jump and even hockey translate seamlessly into the marble world.

And just like real sports, they have drama. In 2017, Momomomo of Team Momo suffered a gruesome, career-ending injury playing hockey against the Midnight Whisps. Riots among the marbles that fill the stands at the Marblelympics are not uncommon. And a marble called Red Number 3, who gained notoriety with a series of exciting comeback victories at the Sand Marble Rally, has garnered scrutiny from some fans who claim that he is not a marble at all, but a bead. It’s great stuff.

Holding it all together is English commentator Greg Woods, who treats the Marble League with the respect it deserves. Without Jelle, none of this would exist, but Greg gives the channel its voice and personality. His impeccable blend of excitement and professionalism will surely connect with all the deprived sports fans who have the luck of finding the channel.

I’ve already seen a couple of comments from people who recently discovered the Marble League, expressing surprise at where they find themselves. They’re supposed to be watching basketball with their friends at the bar right now, but they’re on their phone, watching a Dutch man play with marbles. But if there’s something wrong with that, then there’s something wrong with me, because I’ve been watching the Marble League with my friends since long before quarantine.

I believe that Jelle’s Marble Runs will hit a million before this is all over because I have faith in this country’s knuckleheads. Jelle’s creations are novel and cute, but they also let people fulfill the ritual of Watching Sports. They’ve got the sound, they’ve got the structure, and they’ve got that spontaneity that Gladwell zeroes in on. And if I were to end on a Gladwell-esque platitude, I’d say that in the absence of our beloved sports, overwhelmed with time that we don’t know what to do with, we need dedicated pioneers like Jelle more than ever.

Next up on the Quarantine Essay Series: Scambaiting

[newtie-patootie-bootie]

Bucky² (Prologue)

Summary: You’re a mutant with the power of dimensional, spatial and time manipulation, meaning you can travel to and from dimension, spaces and different times with ease. But one day, when you’re coming back from a particularly long mission, you brought something back that should never have come with you in the first place.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that Marvel has created and I certainly don’t own Sebastian Stan.

Warnings: Swearing, angst and some flirting.

40′s!Bucky x Present!Bucky x Reader

||Please don’t repost anywhere or plagiarize||

It’s been such a damn long mission.

I’m glad I’m going back home after this, just a little more information to collect, before heading home. I never realized just how much I’d miss my phone or my laptop or even the shows on TV. 

God, I miss Netflix.

Walking down the hall, my skirt swishing against my calves, I slid into the filing room where all of the Howling Commandos’ reports on their successful missions, I look over to the desk, seeing the most recent report sent in by Falsworth. I bend over the desk, reading it.

‘After taking the most recent HYDRA base, we couldn’t help but notice multiple anomalies in the sky. We don’t know where they’re from, if they’re natural or if they’re a new HYDRA weapon being tested. Whatever it is, we need to take care of it.’

I sigh, modifying the report flawlessly to nullify that part of the report and I bite my lip, “sorry boys, but that’s no HYDRA weapon. That was my friends, calling me home.” 

“Hey, what are you doing in here?” A deep, commanding voice boomed from the open doorway. I knew that voice too well.

Turning, I saw the young Captain America with his best-friend and confidant, Bucky Barnes.

That’s what hit me hard.

He wasn’t used and abused for HYDRA’s warped ideals. He wasn’t mentally wiped so many times that sometimes he couldn’t remember where he was. There was no metal arm and no haunted look in his eyes.

But, he also wasn’t the Happy Feet I knew him as.

Y’know, the hardest part of this entire mission wasn’t the fact I had to infiltrate without suspicion. That was easy, using a fake identity, I’d done it many times before.

No.

The hardest part, was not being able to save Buck from the fate I’ve seen him deal with. All the suffering and the pain, I could change it with just a few words. I could save Steve and he could live a life with Peggy. The life he never got to live. Bucky could get married and have kids. He could go home and be a decorated hero and he would never have to suffer through the pain of being conditioned into the killing machine known as the Winter Soldier.

But even I knew that doing something that selfish, would have such catastrophic ramifications.

So I kept my mouth shut and stuck to my mission.

Smiling broadly, incorporating the ditzy yet loveable personality I had portrayed my cover to be, “Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes!” I greet them sweetly, “well done on your successful mission!” Stepping away from the report, I hide the paper of the original report against my back.

“You’re not cleared to be in here, Agent King.” Steve spoke with clear authority.

“Yes, yes, of course.” I knocked my head, giggling like a schoolgirl, “I can be such a knucklehead sometimes!” I make my way toward them, sliding the paper underneath my long shirt-sleeve behind my back.

“Are we still on to cut a rug tonight, baby-doll?” Bucky smiled charmingly as my heart fluttered gently. Damn his goddamn suaveness. I’ve got to try and stay on my game.

I had the last of my information. I had to leave now.

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Barnes, I have a previous engagement in which I have to attend to first, and I never agreed to dance with you.”  I really need to get going before I end up saying yes.

“I’ll wait for you on the dancefloor, Sylvia.” Bucky grinned brightly and with a click of his tongue, he winked charmingly at me. Damn him. The man is literal sin. My cheeks turned pink as I giggle like a school-girl, slapping Bucky’s arm gently as he scratches the back of his head.

It’s actually painful to keep up with this dumbass act.

“Don’t wait up, Sergeant.” With that, I make my way down the hall, clutching at my covered wrist as the paper crinkled under my grasp and the ditzy smile on my face faded.

It was time to get back to work.

Third Person P.O.V:

Steve watched Agent King scurry away from Bucky who was still grinning at her retreating form. “Buck, just because you carry a torch for the dame, doesn’t mean that you should drop your guard. She wasn’t supposed to be in here. Even someone like Agent King, who doesn’t have the clearance, knows not to enter here.”

“C’mon, Steve, you can’t possibly be telling me that she’s some kind of HYDRA spy. Just because you don’t trust her.” Bucky argued, turning his gaze back to his best friend.

“She came here out of the blue, right when those weird things in the sky started appearing. A month goes by with her still here and nothing, but now, as soon as they’re back, she’s suddenly going into a place where she doesn’t have the clearance?” Steve questioned. “They’re not coincidences, Buck.” All he got was a scoff from his long time friend as he bent over the table and opened the report Falsworth had sent in for evaluation. It hadn’t been stamped, so nobody had read it yet.

“Steve, what you’re saying is some kind of cock-eyed brainchild that you believe to be true. Sylvia is just a normal dame, one that I’d like to go out and bop with.”

“A normal dame that can expertly distort documents?” Steve questioned, frisbeeing the report to Bucky.

“What in the. .” His sentence trailed off as he read the document, blue-gray eyes widening in disbelief.

No way.

Both Steve and Bucky were with Falsworth when he was writing the report and they knew he had written about the strange happenings in the sky when they were coming back.

It looked untouched, though the words were vastly different. There was nothing pertaining to what they had seen at all.

She had completely erased it, like it never existed.

Y/N’s P.O.V:

I was already outside, free from the underground bunker, my pocket watch in hand. It was a compass of sorts. It didn’t just tell me the time, it helped me find my way back to the time I need to go to, and right now, home was my destination.

Pressing down on the latch, the cover sprung open to reveal the hands spiraling clockwise. It was recharged and ready to go.

My feet gained momentum as I started to run as I gathered energy from all around me, using the electric disturbances in the air, caused by Thor through the time rift I purposely left open, he was able to send electrical currents from my time in the air of 1944, allowing me to travel smoother.

With that, I threw my arms to either side of me, ripping this dimension open and the swirling circle of the vortex beckoned me to return home.

“Stop! Stop her!” I faintly heard Steve’s voice as a few soldiers snapped to attention and I’m glad I narrowly avoided the bullets whizzing past me.

I do not have regenerative healing like Wade.

‘I’m so glad nobody will remember this.’ I thought, panting as I pushed myself harder and further toward the vortex. “Come on!” I roared, frustrated with my lack of exercise.

Pretending to be non-combatant ditzy klutz did not help my training!

With one final burst, I jumped.

With a firm grip on the watch, I jumped through the split I had created, the remnants of the past I left behind were of Steve’s panicked cry, “Bucky!”

Utilizing the electric currents that Thor sent through the rift, I closed the portal from 1944 and rode the waves that brought me to 2017, using the remaining energy to open the rift I had left behind.

Falling out of the vortex, “look out below!” Was my only word of warning before I burst through the dimension and I was in 2017 again, with my Bucky catching me easily. “Welcome back, kid.” His long hair and unshaved face made a bright smile curl my lips.

“Happy Feet!” I crowed joyously, throwing my arms in the air as Buck groaned sourly at my beloved nickname for him before he set me down, “are you getting heavier, Y/N?” He teased, good-naturedly.

I gasp in mock offence, before bursting into loud giggles,“shut up!” I blatantly punch his left bicep before I gasp for real and grab my injured fist, cradling it to my chest. “Ooh~, fuck you and that metal arm of yours!”

Bucky chuckled, patting his bionic bicep, “how did it g-” He cut his sentence short, eyes wide as he stared over my shoulder in disbelief and shock.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” I turned, my eyebrows furrowed in concern as I turned and I stumble against Bucky, my eyes wide at what I was seeing.

Oh, God, that’s why Steve cried for Bucky when I jumped through.

The young Bucky Barnes from 1944 was standing in the Avengers compound entertainment room, staring at his older self with the exact same disbelieving expression.

My pocket watch was on the ground in the vast space between us, the hands having completely stopped moving.

That wasn’t good.

“How the hell are you even here?” Present Bucky asked himself, bringing my attention back to the two! Bucky’s!

“Why don’t you ask her?” His younger self replied and both their identical eyes trained on me.

Oh, fuck me.

I hope you enjoy the prologue of Bucky² Squared, if you want an update every time I post a new chapter, just let me know if you want to be tagged!

Thank you!!