#Project Red Room

[moonlight-sonata99]

Sneak peek

Joaquin: Thank you enjoy your day..

[Reader]: You too papi

Joaquin: "you too papi"? What you trying to get into??

[Reader]: Ay papi I'm just doing my job

Joaquin:

[an--inconvenience]

I am not a 'fan of the mcu', I'm a fan of the version of the mcu that I carefully crafted in my brain while lying awake at night wondering what the mcu would've been like if the writers gave a shit. Common misconception

[skywritingrambles]

Watched thunderbolts and as someone who manages to make everything I write at least a little dark I absolutely need to see fanfic about what they all saw before they found Bob. Mostly Bucky and Yelena because I love them very dearly and I'm not particularly invested in the others backstories. But still.

I probably won't write anything for it because I never feel like I can come up with interesting enough situations for those kinds of backstories, but if you have any reccomendations I would be more than happy to have them. Or idk, you could write one and tag me:3

[red-room-studi0]

I was thinking about the first ever Birthday gift I got when I first woke up and then I started thinking about her and had this idea.

[azzymaxxing]

IFUCKING WIN

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

Been putting some time into Doily 14 (Yarn | Pattern) since it's easy enough knitting to do while reading and man. Every row takes a year.

Probably because every row is over 500 stitches at this point. Ouch. And I still have almost 20 more rows to go. I'm averaging something like 2 rows a day (while swapping in other projects when I get bored). Keeping my energy by admiring the pretty gradient every chance I get.

[kronosveritas]

BACK TO NORMAL ART POSTS NOW I SWEAR

🎶Come onnn Carolina, have fuuun Carolina 🎶

(She has a face tattoo of the Roman numeral for 12 because North Carolina was the 12th US state and idk it felt like a vibe. Plus I’ve been watching too much Arcane)

Might do a colored version later, we’ll see how the vibes are. I h a t e coloring with a passion… you don’t understand…

[swan2swan]

THIS IS DOUBLE-DIPPING AND YOU KNOW IT, WATANABE.

[theoakleafpancake]

Hiii I’m back

And I’m here to add to the collection of Gilan Davidson and his ever-changing appearances

[Image ID: A flat-color drawing of Gilan Davidson from the chest up. The background is differing shades of blue with red streaks behind him. He is wearing a grayish-green tunic with a brown shirt underneath. His skin is tanned, with brown eyes and vaguely spiky red hair that falls just below his chin. There is a faint stubble on his face. He is smiling, looking upwards. The silver oakleaf hangs around his neck. /End ID]

[moonlight-sonata99]

When the fic is so in depth your researching how old the Reader was in each marvel movie

[sergeant-macho-nacho]

The mainstream "Flat earth" movement is a lie.

"Flat earth" propaganda is trying to confuse the people to the truth.

The truth is there is no such thing as a "3rd dimension".

Everything is "flat".®

Space and time are relative to one another so there are some situations like when you grab something round or...Pyramid "shaped" that it appears this so called 3rd dimension exists, but only then does it exist.

Most of the time, when objects are not being interacted with they are "2 dimensional" as if to say you are always looking at a flat surface until you touch it.

If no one can see the object it is "1 dimensional".

Many people have often wondered since the first time trees started to exist that if a tree were to fall in the woods and no one sees it then does it make a sound.

It would make a sound if it existed. Trees are advanced life forms that are able to perceive their 1 dimensionalness.

They, trees, are actually more enlightened then "4th delimensinal beings" like Christopher Eccelston and the Blair Witch since they know how to exist in 1 dimension. Essentially the lazy creatures known as trees accomplish this feat by sleeping while theyre awake.

So I reiterate to you the truth. The truth of not round or flat earth, but flat reality.

Sparkly stars courtesy of

animatedglittergraphics-n-more

on Tumblr

[solarspike]

bought some fabric today to try and make myself a tote bag, if all goes well i will post pics and maybe even embroider it. if it does not go well you will not hear about it again <3

[permafrown]

i think bat's home has a very cozy vibe to it. obvs it's got the victorian gothic vampire vibe. but it's always dimly lit n shit. you could take a wonderful nap there

[transtatdelioncourt]

every time kevin feige opens his damn mouth i sprout a new grey hair

[kenntoria]

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ when you’re too sick to care for your baby, nanami brings her to the office strapped to his chest—calm, efficient, and completely unfazed as he gives presentations with a pacifier on his tie and a baby on board.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ this is ridiculous i’m warning you

nanami doesn’t even flinch when you croak from under the covers, voice raw and pitiful: “ken, i can’t—i think i have a fever, and she won’t stop crying unless i’m holding her.”

your voice cracks halfway through the sentence. you look like a ghost of yourself, half-sunken into your nest of tissues and blankets, hair a disaster, eyes glazed and watery. the baby’s red-faced and sniffling too, sprawled across your chest like a little heater, tiny fists grasping your shirt like she knows you might try to hand her off.

nanami, standing in the doorway, calmly adjusts his watch.

“i’ll take her.”

you blink. “you… you have three meetings today.”

“and now i have three meetings with a baby,” he says, already crossing the room like a man with a mission.

you can’t even protest properly before he’s kneeling beside the bed and gently peeling her off you, expertly switching to his papa voice — warm and low, as if he’s de-escalating a tiny, fussy hostage situation.

“there we go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then yours. “we’ll manage. rest. you know what medicine you should take. call me if you need anything.”

ten minutes later, he’s at the front door in his usual tan coat, baby carrier strapped securely to his chest like she’s a very warm, very giggly piece of office equipment. she’s wearing one of those obnoxiously frilly headbands you swore you’d never put on her — but she screamed when he tried to take it off, and he’s not here to pick battles today.

diaper bag over his shoulder. bottle packed. pacifier clipped neatly to his tie. hair combed, shoes polished, baby securely swaddled and babbling.

“don’t let the interns try to hold her,” you wheeze weakly from the hallway.

“i would rather die,” he replies without missing a beat.

as he walks out, you hear him murmur to her, “no loud commentary during the finance report. we must suffer through it in dignified silence.”

cut to: the morning finance meeting, 9:01 a.m., in a fluorescent-lit conference room downtown.

the projector is humming. spreadsheets fill the screen. half the team is slumped in various degrees of caffeine withdrawal.

nanami kento walks in, perfectly on time, baby on his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

he doesn’t explain it. doesn’t apologize. he walks straight to the head of the table, clicks open his laptop, adjusts the projector, and begins speaking with the same calm, measured cadence he always uses—

except this time, there’s a tiny foot sticking out of the carrier, gently bumping his blazer.

“moving into Q3,” he says, clicking to the next slide, “we’re forecasting a moderate increase in asset reallocation—”

the baby lets out a soft, inquisitive coo.

nanami glances down at her, gives a very small nod, and says to the room, “correct. the Q3 projections are, in fact, unfortunate.”

silence.

well—almost silence.

from somewhere near the coffee machine, an intern tries to whisper, “is that a—?”

nanami turns his head fractionally. just enough to shut it down.

“yes. she’s here in lieu of her mother, who is unwell. please direct all questions to me or her, depending on the topic.”

no one questions it.

she doesn’t cry, not even once. in fact, she seems thrilled. she clutches his tie like it’s her personal emotional support ribbon and waves her tiny hand every time someone shifts in their chair. at one point, she lets out a high-pitched giggle, and nanami simply pauses mid-sentence, gently pats her back, and continues like nothing happened.

someone tries to make eye contact and smile at her—

she beams and throws her toy at them.

nanami takes back the toy and sighs, “don’t encourage her. she’ll never stop.”

the entire time, he keeps presenting with his utmost precision, occasionally glancing down at her to tuck the headband back into place or swap her pacifier like he’s been doing this his whole life.

he wraps up right on time.

“any further questions?”

dead silence.

even the regional manager just gives a tight nod. no one wants to risk being shamed by a baby.

—

back home, it’s late afternoon when the door creaks open.

you’re still buried in blankets, half-delirious and clinging to a half-empty box of tissues. you blearily lift your head at the sound of keys in the bowl.

nanami walks in with the same exact expression he had when he left: calm, unreadable… except there’s a little extra softness at the corners of his eyes.

the baby is still strapped to his chest. fast asleep now, one hand gripping his tie, the other curled against his collarbone. she’s drooling slightly. he hasn’t removed the headband.

“she was very well-behaved,” he says quietly. “arguably more professional than half the team.”

you laugh — or try to, but it comes out as a croaky wheeze.

he crouches beside you, brushing a bit of hair from your face. “how are you feeling?”

“like death.” he nods and kisses your cheek.

you glance over at the baby. “how was she, really?”

“chatty,” he says, straight-faced. “opinionated about quarterly earnings. but otherwise excellent.”

he lifts her hand gently, unhooks her fingers from his tie.

“you’re insane,” you whisper.

he leans in to kiss your forehead, gentle and lingering.

“efficient,” he corrects.

then, after a beat—

“also… she now technically works in accounting.”

you blink. “what?”

he shrugs.

“someone handed her a spreadsheet. she drooled on it. that’s more than my latest intern did today.”

you laugh again, properly this time.

he finally unstraps her, carefully settling her into the bassinet. she doesn’t stir — not even when he tucks her blanket in with military precision.

you lie there watching him move quietly around the apartment, sleeves rolled up, tie chewed, hair slightly out of place, and realize:

papa nanami could take over the world with a baby strapped to his chest and a pacifier in his pocket, and he’d still be home in time to fold the laundry.

[moonlight-sonata99]

Me writing Project Red Room and then realizing I have no idea how to build relationships between characters: