con.txt thoughts and feelings

[thedeadparrot]

I had fun at con.txt, though I think I am still processing the whole experience. I met some cool fanpeople and got to hang out with some of my long-time fandom buds and talked about a bunch of fannish things for a whole weekend.

I guess some of my ambivalence is that it felt very much like a nostalgia trip for me. It's kinda nice to revisit a time in fandom where I knew all the references and felt connected to a smaller, tight-knit community, but I'm also wary of spending too much time there. I already feel like I'm one step out of touch with the youths, and I'm okay with that because that's just a part of getting older, but I also don't want to live in the past forever. I want to get better at embracing the new shapes and new things that fandom takes on.

And it's not something that I think I would get as much out of if I went to it every year or even every other year (maybe?). It's a nice thing to come back to every once in a while when you're feeling a bit adrift in the seas of New Fandom, but I feel like all the conversations I end up having at cons are very same-y, and I need a good amount of time between cons before they feel fresh and new again.

This has been an overly negative post for what was ultimately a good experience. I did come out of it with a renewed sense of creative joy, a desire to make things and to share them with fandom at large. Posting on AO3 can frequently feel like tossing things into a void and hoping someone catches it and likes it. Going to a con makes you more fully aware of the communities that you're connected to and of the other people who read it.

Of course, I don't actually have any specific things I want to write. Feel free to throw prompts at me.

Comments

[monanotlisa]

What fandoms? I love prompting. :)

[thedeadparrot]

Er, I have such a long extensive list of things I'm willing to write! Star Wars (minus Solo, since I haven't seen it), the Iron Man and Captain America corners of MCU, Sense 8, The Good Place, pretty much any of the million of fandoms I've written before (thedeadparrot).

[minoanmiss]

To me, this doesn't read as negative but as thoughtful, and I hear you on so much of this.

*contemplates prompts*

[thedeadparrot]

That's good to know! I wanted to be clear that this is mostly about me and my issues and not anything wrong with the con in the general or the specific.

[seascribble]

Mike Richards knocks up Mike Latta, they name the baby after TWilly who realizes what he's missing out on.

[thedeadparrot]

Okay, this is probably not enough emotional payoff, but whatever! Here's a ficlet.

---

"We're not naming it Thomas," Mike says once the doctor is out of earshot.

Latts gives him a flat, annoyed stare. It's more intimidating than it should be given that he's still laying down on the examination table, his oversized t-shirt rolled up to show his bare rounded belly. "He's not an 'it'."

Mike has always wanted kids, has always loved the thought of adding more to his family, but he is still getting used to the idea of it, a tiny human growing inside Latts right now. A tiny human that's part Mike. "Right," Mike says. "We're not calling him Thomas."

"It's a good name," Latts insists.

Mike gets it. He's been there, that closeness, that intimacy of being roommates and teammates that's difficult to put into words that anyone else can understand. But he's not sitting here trying to name their kid Jeffery. "Fine. I'll think about it," he says, and the smile that lights up Latts' face at that almost makes it worth it.

---

Mike isn't expecting the phone call he gets from Willy.

"Uh, hey," Willy says. They were close for the half a season that Mike was playing on the Caps, but not close enough to keep talking to each other after Mike more or less retired. He knows that this conversations isn't going to be about him.

"Hey," Mike says back. He shoves the pan into the oven. Latts has been craving roasted veggies lately, and Mike is grateful because it's one of the few things he's comfortable making without his mother's supervision.

"So, um, I was thinking of visiting, because of, you know, Latts," Willy says.

"Right," Mike says. "Sure." Maybe he should feel threatened by this, but it just feels sort of inevitable. No point in stopping it now. "Come by whenever."

"Oh, okay," Willy says. He sounds startled, like he maybe thought Mike was going to put up a fight, and now he doesn't know what to do now that he doesn't have anything to argue against. "Cool."

---

It takes until mid-July, when the off-season is in full swing, for Willy to make his way to Kenora. He shows up at Mike's place midday while Mike is out on the lake with spotty phone signal. Latts lets him in and gets him settled into the guest room. Mike thinks that maybe he should be worried about the two of them alone together, considering all of the history between the two of them, but he trusts Latts, and he even trusts Willy.

But Mike knows that there's never been any competition between the two of them. Mike may have been the guy Latts idolized when growing up in Kitchener, but Willy was the one who Latts fell in love with while Mike was still dealing with his own shit in LA.

They're talking, heads bent close together. There's a comfort in the body language between them that Mike remembers from his time on the Caps.

"Look, I don't want to make things weird between--" Willy hisses, not nearly as quiet as he thinks he is.

"Yeah, you're doing a real great job of that," Latts hisses back. He's got that look in his eye, the same one he does when Mike has massively fucked up. Mike does not envy Willy right now.

At first, Mike was thinking that maybe he would be the better man and step aside if Willy ever came to his senses. But that was before he had a pregnant Latts in his bed, hair mussed, eyes sleepy and soft, one hand resting on the swell of his belly, radiating happiness and contentment. Now he's-- he's going to have to put up a fight. Or at least knock some heads together until they all manage to figure this shit out.

He clears his throat as obnoxiously as possible. Arnold wanders over, nudges his legs in a silent display of solidarity. Willy leaps back, eyes darting towards Mike. He shrinks in on himself, a little, in a way that makes him seem smaller than he is. It's almost kind of absurd, because he still towers over both Mike and Latts.

"Hi, Richie," Willy says.

"Hey, Willy," Mike says. "I see Latts let you in."

"Yeah," Willy says. He somehow manages to shrink even more. "He was just, uh, telling me what's what." Latts rolls his eyes at that.

"That's what we're calling it these days?" Mike asks.

Willy winces. "Look, I just-- I couldn't let this happen without telling Latts about--"

"You could have saved yourself a trip," Latts says. His mouth has gone from flatly unhappy to actually frowning. Most of the time, it makes Mike want to punch whatever caused it (usually himself), but he can make an exception for Willy. Latts steps closer to Mike, making his choice clear, and Mike slides an arm around Latts' back, because he thinks Latts is going to need it.

Willy's face twists up. "I'm sorry," he says, and Mike has seen plenty of grown men cry, but it's not exactly a pleasant experience.

And look, Mike has been in situations like this before. He's wanted-- he's wanted things that he couldn't have and had pieces of himself torn out of himself when they remained out of reach. He doesn't want that for Willy. Or for Latts for that matter, who's stuck dealing with Willy's shitty timing. So he says, "We were thinking of naming it Thomas."

Latts puts an elbow into Mike's ribs. "It's a him," he hisses.

Willy frowns at the two of them, though, his forehead furrowing. "Okay?" he asks.

Latts bites his lip, glances over in Mike's direction. "Are you sure you--"

Mike shrugs. He's not sure about this, but the point isn't to be sure. The point is to take the shot when you see the opening. You can worry about the rest of it later. "You're part of this, one way or the other," Mike says to Willy. "Even if Latts is being a martyr about it."

"Hey!" Latts protests. "I'm the one who's pregnant here. Be nice to me." But he still slides his hand into Mike's and gives it a squeeze.

"Richie--" Willy says, his voice going hoarse, his eyes going wide.

Mike rolls his eyes. "Don't be a fucking moron. Just kiss him already." He shoves Latts forward, and Latts doesn't even protest.

He watches as Willy takes one step in and leans over to press his lips against Latts'. It's a tentative sort of thing, hesitant, like they don't know how far they can go with one another yet. When Willy pulls back, he's smiling wide enough to show teeth. His eyes so bright they almost shine.

He turns to Mike next, probably to say something sappy and gross, but then he's cupping one hand around the back of Mike's head and bringing their faces closer together. He kisses Mike the way he kissed Latts, careful, like he's handling something delicate. Willy's not much for subtlety, so it's --- nice, being something that Willy wants to treat well.

"Thanks, Richie," Willy mumbles as he pulls back. His face is bright red, but he's still smiling.

He shares a look with Latts before placing a hand on the curve of Latts' belly. His smile somehow gets wider. "Oh," he says. "I think I felt it kick." Awe is written on every line of his face.

Latts punches him in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Willy says. "What was that for?"

Latts glares at Mike. "This is your fault," he says. "You've got him doing it to."

Mike just shrugs at that, but he still slides an arm around Latts' shoulders and Latts still leans into it. He grabs hold of Willy's elbow. "I caught some fish," he says. "Come on, I'll cook it for dinner."

Latts rolls his eyes, and Willy smiles some more at that, and Mike thinks about maybe kissing the two of them again. But later. He's got some fish to cook first.

[seascribble]

YES THIS IS VERY GOOD AND I LOVE IT.

Mike Richards gets to be happy and be a dad and catch fish! Arnold supports him! Willy and Latts get to be together! THERE IS A BABY. Perfect.

[merisunshine36]

CHIDI/RHODEY!!!!!!

that's it. that's the prompt.

[thedeadparrot]

THIS IS SO MANY MONTHS LATE I'M SORRY.

---

"So this is the afterlife, huh?"

Chidi's not exactly sure how to answer that question, because while it is the afterlife, it's not exactly a representative sample. "Well, it's at least one portion of it. See, we're in what the locals call The Medium Place, due to the fact that it houses --"

"Right," the man says. "Sounds like things are a little--" He makes a vague gesture towards the crowd that has formed, a morass of people that stretches out to the farthest horizon. Turns out neither prepared for half the sentient beings in the galaxy to be snapped out of existence in a second.

"Yes," Chidi says. "It's, well, it's been one of those weeks where-- I'm not sure that I'm the best person to explain it, because many of the mechanisms are still unfamiliar to me. I'm still in the process of learning about how--" He makes a gesture that he hopes is somewhat intelligible. "--how all of this works."

The man nods, unbothered by Chidi's rambling. Which, to be honest, is pretty unusual for the people that Chidi has met in his lifetime. And his unlifetime, too. "Okay," the man says. "Good to know. My name's Jim."

"Chidi," Chidi says, sticking out a hand for Jim to shake. Jim takes it. His handshake is firm and warm and just a shade stronger than Chidi would like, because he always found performative displays of masculinity to be-- not exactly his forte.

"Nice to meet you," Jim says.

"Er, yes. Likewise," Chidi says.

"So are you giving tours? Rolling out the welcome wagon?" There's an amused, resigned smile creasing Jim's face, and it's really-- it's unfairly attractive. Chidi takes a deep breath and tries to imagine what Eleanor would do in a situation like this. It would probably involve copious amounts of alcohol, accusations of doing things that she's done in the past, and probably a digression about shrimp.

Not helpful in this case, so Chidi goes with the truth. "More like, I'm, uh, stuck here while they get the rest of this sort out, too." He decides not to go into detail about getting trapped in a fake version of the Good Place for several hundred years or the quick jaunt on Earth trying to save people's souls.

"Should have realized that you can't just escape bureaucracy by dying," Jim says.

Chidi laughs, more of a nervous giggle than anything else. He wishes Tahani was around to help smooth things over with a name drop or five. The soul squad had been scattered into the crowd when this wave of deaths had hit. The entire afterlife had devolved into chaos, and the four of them were swept into it. "Well, I doubt the afterlife is what most people are expecting," he says. He has a whole ethics lecture prepared about this, even a reading list for his students. He's not sure Jim is in the right state of mind to appreciate it.

"But you'll help me out, right?" Jim asks. "Since you're at least more familiar with this place than I am?" He raises one eyebrow, and a warmth seeps into his smile.

Chidi doesn't really do flirting, because he gets caught up in trying to figure out if it's real or if it's just wishful thinking, and then he usually ends up on a mental tangent about cultural differences and similar gestures can mean extremely different things depending on the context. "Uh, sure. I just gotta-- go find my friends." He makes a vague gesture over his shoulder, because he would really kill for Janet's knowledge of everything in the known universe right now.

"Hey," Jim says. "Me too." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I don't know who else-- but I'm sure they're around." He scans the crowd around them, eyes darting from face to face. "We should probably stick together?"

"Yeah, okay," Chidi says, because it's-- he's glad to have made another friend, even if it seems like the world needed to end a little bit in order for it to happen.

"Cool," Jim says.

He picks a direction and starts walking, his stride speedy and purposeful. Chidi doesn't know where Jim's headed, but Chidi's learning-- or trying to learn, anyway-- that staying put isn't going to be any more helpful either. So he scrambles to keep up, and the grin that Jim flashes him even makes the effort worth it.

[merisunshine36]

THIS WAS THE CLEVEREST OF CROSSOVERS!!!! I am so pleased :D