So, the time has come where I have decided to share my hidden Nashcon 2016 Cockles photo op with everyone.
Why did I wait so long? Because I told myself, as a silent promise to Jensen and Misha, I was going to wait one year from the day, before I share it, even though Misha said to share it initially. Haha. Anyway, it’s been four months past the year mark, and I have decided to finally unveil the photo, I know it might garnish some stuff from haters, and I might be called “disrespectful”, however I ask everyone to read below first, on how my situation went down with receiving the photo, and then cast your opinions.
So, I am waiting in the photo op line nervous as all hell haha, I keep the front of the book hidden the entire time, just patiently and nervously waiting. The book I held in my hands was “The Threesome Handbook”, by Vicki Vantoch (For those who don’t know who she is, she’s the amazing woman married to Misha!!). I’ve had the idea in my mind for nearly a year on how funny it would be to take a photo of the three of us reading it, I could imagine Jensen’s “what the hell position is that?!” Face, I can imagine Misha’s mischevious intrigued face, and then I would just be there looking like a dork, haha, either way, it was a year’s idea in the making. So the time has come and here i am shaking with my book…When it is my turn…I walk up to them…I immediately went to Jensen first because above anyone else, I wanted to get his Blessing for the photo, I didn’t want him to do it if he was not comfortable with it, and I was perfectly fine if he would have declined…So, I’m right in front of Jensen and I say “I completely understand if you don’t want to do this but, if not, it’s okay, but can we do something with this?” I showed him the book Misha’s wife wrote “The Threesome Handbook”, and he was like “With this?” He replied with like a shocked laugh as he pointed at the book, I laughed a bit in embarrassment…Then at this moment Misha comes over to the two of us, he sees the book and giggles as he grabs it, Misha being amused at the sight of the book, all I could do is look on in embarrassment and nervously laugh. At this point however, Jensen’s handler came up right away and was like “ Nope. No. No.” And she snatched the book out of Misha’s hand. So he was like “Oh Well” with a shrug kinda look then I was like “Oh well”, I knew at that point it was the risk of asking, so I didn’t mind. So I turned to Misha and Jensen and was like “Hugs then?” So we did a hug picture. The bliss and awesomeness of being between those two, still sends shivers down my spine. Forgive the capital letters but this was the exciting part…after the picture I THEN HUGGED THEM BOTH AND SAID THANK YOU, THEN THE HANDLER GAVE THE BOOK BACK TO ME. I WAS READY TO WALK AWAY WHEN MISHA GRABBED MY HAND, PULLED ME CLOSE TO HIM AND TOLD THE PHOTOGRAPHER TO TAKE ANOTHER. SO MISHA HUGGED ME WHILE WE HELD THE BOOK AND JENSEN GAVE HIS LIKE “WHAT?!” FACE. I WAS IN SHOCK!!!! SO ALL I HAD ENOUGH REACTION TIME FOR WAS TO MAKE A DORKY LOOKING “Idk, worth a shot” SUGGESTIVE FACE.
It happened so quick…I was not expecting it at all…After the picture all I could do was happily give Misha another hug, and just mutter “Thank you thank Misha”, I gave Jensen one more quick one and kinda high tailed it out of the room shaking.
Now…I was absolutely happy, and just speechless, I had two ops, the op I wanted to do, and I spent more time with them. The thing is though…After some time…I felt bad…because I wasn’t sure if Jensen was upset…or kinda just disappointed, because I felt maybe he didn’t want to do it and it was forced, as much as I appreciate it…To confirm, I decided to apologise to him when I got my autograph…The stressful part of it all, was the timing…See…I had to wait for the pictures to print, I wanted to grab it right away because I know sometimes people take photos of other people’s pictures, and I didn’t want this to get out by someone else’s hand. The thing is Jensen was then signing autographs in the same time…So, I was pacing back and forth from the picture table and the autograph hall to see how the lines were, just as it seemed like autographs were almost over, as they called my row many minutes before, the pictures were put out. LUCKILY I received my picture and I was able to make the line for Jensen, photo hidden. So again I nervously wait in line, when I got to him in line, he recognized me and said “Hey you” and smiled, and of course I was like “Hi” *giggles* and then I said “Jensen I’m really sorry about the book photo op”. He smiled and was like “ah, it’s no problem at all” And I said “Okay I just wanted to make sure you know I didn’t mean anything bad by it” and he said “Don’t worry about it, it’s perfectly fine”. I apologized to his handler also and she said “ Its okay honey, I’m not mad about it” and they both said you have a good night and pretty much don’t worry. So *SIGH OF RELIEF*
Got my autograph and his Blessing!! However me being me, I wanted security…So…To Make sure…When I got my Misha autograph, I walk up to Misha with items in hand to get signed.
Misha: “Oh hey it’s you, how are you?”
Me: “I’m good thank you, how are you?”
Misha: “I’m good, I’m good, are you having fun?
Me: “Yeah, it’s been really great”
*Misha begins to sign my items*
Me: *Nervously* “Can I ask you a question?”
Misha: “Of course go ahead”
Me: “Was Jensen upset with the photo with the book?”
Misha: *smiles, then giggles* “Oh no, he wasn’t upset at all. He would have gone through with it if a certain handler didn’t snatch it away from us”
Me: “Are you sure? I really don’t want him to be upset, I just didn’t think it’d be bad”
Misha: “No, don’t worry about it at all, he wasn’t upset” *Misha hands back items*
Me: “Okay, thank you Misha, thank you. You have a great night” *I say while gathering my stuff*
Misha: “You’re welcome. You too” *Misha smiles*
*I turn to walk away when Misha says to me*
Misha: “Don’t give it a second thought”
I respond by just smiling and saying a relieved “Okay”, and then I turn and head out to the hall.
So…This is that photo, from my amazing Nashcon 2016 time…I hope those viewing, find the humor in it as much as I do…If you’re gonna share it, please just attach this story with it, so people know, that yes while some might find it tasteless, it was done with a calculated understanding of the actor’s feelings behind taking the photo and not without asking their personal consent for it first, the events that unfolded from it, were not expected and were out of my hands, just as well I finally want to thank Misha and Jensen and just as well, Jared!! (Though they may not ever read this haha) for everything they’re do for the fans, it was a great time and is now a hell of a story I can add to my life of events. Everyone else…enjoy. :)
That Adweek interview with them on the swings got me thinking…sometimes I love the way Rhett takes it upon himself to explain Link’s quirks to other people. He’s all like, “He does this all the time! CAN YOU BELIEVE I’ve put up with this my whole life because we’ve basically been best friends that whole time that’s right I’M BEST FRIENDS WITH LINK and I must prove it to you by explaining something about him that I understand but you don’t.”
a dog tries to starve itself to prove that it’s hungry.
tw for self harm, suicide etc
i am a walking contradiction. i want to be a man but i love like a woman. i ask you to hit me but i flinch before you do.
ain’t that some shit.
i push you down, press you into the mattress and i’m good, quiet as i guide your knife to my stomach. i don’t say a word as you slice me open. no, that’s a lie. i cry like a bitch. i always cry like a bitch.
i cry in empty bathtubs, on cold floors. i cry in drugstore aisles, hoping you hear it and praying you ignore it.
i cry thinking about the afterlife as i stare at razorblades and my fingers twitch, itch.
i’m a dreamer, i never said they were good dreams.
everything is a temptation but my cowardice keeps me locked up; a damsel in distress but she doesn’t wanna be saved, she wants to get worse.
i think about pills and sharp metal but all i do is lie in bed. if i did it i’d be the first in the local paper in years, the fame i’d always dreamed of.
sarcasm sarcasm sarcasm
i say i’m burning out, but that’s another lie, candles don’t burn unless you light them and all my matches seem to have gotten wet. (unless i never bought matches in the first place? sounds like me.)
i take my frustrations out on bathroom stall doors and hotel walls and i tell myself i like the pain (i don’t, i don’t, i wish i did). i think i’ve found my capital-letter People but that’s another lie (we really should be keeping track of these) because i’ll never fit in, i’m never enough, can’t even hurt myself right.
x for a kiss i crave but am too afraid to ask of you.
y for my fickle brain and all its questions.
z for nothing. for zero. i’m going to bed to feel it. goodnight my dear. even my poems are wannabes.
this one’s a super belated birthday st for @deamus, ilu ella a bit more than my grammar would suggest lmao ♡. yes, a muggle thlaise au because when am i not predictable and cliché.
Blaise Zabini is over drunk one night stands.
He is. He has a fucking bet with Pansy Parkinson and his coffee machine is at stake.
And yet the light shining through the crack of the curtains is from a horrendously and completely wrong direction
And the obnoxious heaviness in his head is a blaring mockery that he’s just lost.
Well. Maybe. Had Pansy seen him leave the bar? He can’t recall even leaving the bar, if he’s being truthful.
(How much did he even have to drink? All he can remember is the smoothness of pale collarbones under the club lights and the press of warm hips and a gasping need for more.)
A cough. And a “Morning”.
And there it is.
The realisation that there are much worse things than losing a bet to Pansy.
And those things most predominantly (overwhelmingly so) involve Theodore Silas Nott leaning against the doorway, an oversized sweater slumping off his shoulders in a way that highlighted his collarbones all too clearly (fuck they were those collarbones), his hands wrapped round a mug (if it was coffee, there was absolutely no justice in this world) and his glasses were ever so slightly askew on his ski slope nose.
Could humans short circuit?
For Theodore’s slight sideways smile was too close to all those times back in Sixth Form when Theodore would snort or roll his eyes and Blaise would be left floundering.
Because his default when he was losing or unsure was to flirt shamelessly (it’s called smooth talking, Pansy shut up), to quirk his eyebrow, leave people flustered, off guard, their reasoning forgotten.
He had never been able to do that with Theodore. The risk that it would end up as actual flirting and that Theodore would, heaven forbid, realise, had been too horrifying.
And here he was, breath dry and gross, head pounding like some stupid sadistic anthem and fuck, he was naked in Theodore’s bed and he couldn’t even remember the details beyond his hazy memories of dancing.
“Where are my clothes?” God dammit, he was all croaky, that wasn’t attractive, was it too late to run? Were you allowed to postpone on the morning after?
“In the wash. Your clothes stunk of vodka. And don’t worry, you won’t lose your coffee machine so quit staring at my mug like it betrayed you.”
His coffee machine? Why did Theodore Nott know about his coffee machine? What else had he told him?
Theodore laughed at the confusion on his face. All dimples and warm eyes. The sound seemed to burn a trail in Blaise’s stomach and he knew he was screwed. Just as he had been 5 years ago, in Room L, trying to focus on the presentation but only really watching the curve of Theodore’s lips round his words.
How predictable. And how inconvenient. His head hurt more than ever.
“You said and I quote - my coffee machine is safe because I’m going to take you on a date before we fuck.”
Another smirk, so very Theodore, all natural poise and snark - but instead of those sharp protective edges he’d exuded back at school, there was a quiet, simmering confidence now. Blaise was most definitely screwed.
“Breakfast is in the kitchen. That can be our first date.”
Sulu can’t remember the last time he’s slept in his bed by
himself. He’s not sure when this routine of Chekov climbing into his bed had
started, but he’s stopped fighting it. Actively, at least. He still always asks
what it was this time, and Chekov always has a new answer.
“Zhere’s somezhing wrong vizh my bed,” he states one night, but
won’t say what as he climbs into Sulu’s bed and wraps himself up in his
blanket. Sulu says nothing, just tries to pull back as much blanket as he can.
“I had a nightmare, Hikaru, can I sleep vizh you?” he
mumbles the next, and his voice is soft and hoarse. Sulu says no more, just
gently pulls him into his arms and holds him until he falls asleep, a tangle of
long limbs and soft breathing.
“Is zhis not my bed?” he asks, and Sulu laughs – this has to
be his worst excuse yet. “Vell, I’m comfortable now, so…” and he dozes off.
Sulu just rolls over and falls asleep too.
The final excuse comes one night when Chekov comes back late
to their room. He’s been drinking, Sulu can tell by his stumbling and soft
muttering to himself. Almost on cue, he feels Chekov flop into bed next to him,
flinching as he feels cold skin against his – Chekov’s just pulled most of his
clothes off, not bothering with pyjamas. He feels Chekov nuzzling into his
“I love you,” he mumbles against Sulu’s skin before he falls
asleep. Sulu gently pulls Chekov’s arm around him.
“You could have just said that to begin with, Pavel,” he
whispers, letting his eyes close.
They have a lot to
talk about, but for now Sulu just lets himself drift off to sleep.