#I just find delight in not only sharing my own doodles and character ideas

[tmntkiseki]

Not sure if anyone is gonna see this since it's 1:40 AM here, but if you have TMNT OCs

* makes grabby hands *

Show them to meeeeeee. I wanna meet everyone's literal children.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Same anon thank you for answering my question! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for MTMTE Rung, Megatron, Rodimus, Minimus, and Swerve with an Artisic human reader that just sees the good and creative artist side of everything? From books to pictures to even their own bot? Like they can just look at their bot and go out on a whole rant on how beautiful their optics are from the color to their expression. if that’s too many characters you can take any one, I don’t mind! Thank you and have a good day ❤️

You're welcome! I'm always open for clarification, so feel free to ask questions about whatever you'd like if you're unsure on anything. I took a little liberty with this one, but I've got all the requested bots because darn it all these beautiful mechs deserve recognition!

Rung

·He discovers your artistic inclination thanks to years of experience reading personalities and emotions at a glance, but he wasn't prepared for the depth of your conviction in seeing the world through a creative lens, which he learned upon speaking to you about your process as an artist. This surprise grows as he sees you sketching around the ship, your exuberance for the inherent beauty in everything coming through in every conversation you share.

·When he praises some of your sketches on a quiet day in his office and is compelled to ask how you developed your style, he's fascinated by your explanation, and his spark is warmed by how beautifully you describe the world around you and credit it for inspiring you. He's visibly shocked when your list of current subjects and muses includes him specifically, and you can't help but chuckle at the usually calm bot looking so absolutely flustered. There's no way for him to hide any of that feeling when he requests a bit of clarification; there's hundreds of bots on board, what about him could possibly stand out?

·You're happy to elaborate on your process to a bot who so regularly underestimates his worth and lay out why he in particular piques your interest. The warmth and goodness of his being is such a rare and beautiful thing, you explain, but also so rarely appreciated that it drives you to try and capture that essence in a manner one can see. How could you not? Such compassion and empathy and forgiveness should be remembered! You've also seen that he's capable of accepting any genuine apology, and to have that level of mercy after so much war is beautiful, enough that you have to try and show it.

·To say he's touched is an understatement of unfathomable proportions. Removing his lenses to clear optics blurred with tears, he doesn't even know how to begin processing your praise of his character when you add that his physical self hardly fails to encourage you either. His glasses nearly slip from his hands when he hears you say that. You continue quite easily; the kindness in his optics and the sweetness of his smile, combined with his genuinely handsome profile, simply inspire you to start sketching.

·He's touched, but you have to understand, he is NOT accustomed to this level of praise. Between the near tears and the blushing he has to politely excuse himself to recover from this absolute tsunami of emotions, but being flustered and melted at once is enough to have him smiling through a little blush all day long. While he tries to take a little bit of your mindset into his everyday life going forward, he gets a bit dazed every time he sees a sketch of yours that includes his face, as that level of artistic devotion being dedicated to him is more than he'll ever be able to process. Not that he minds...

Megatron

·Being more familiar with the written word, he enjoys the arts but has little experience with those who create them, and time has not been on his side in regards to learning more. Thus, you're one of the first artistically inclined individuals he's been able to discuss the topic with, which he was motivated to do after catching a glimpse of your work. He could swear some of your sketches bear a resemblance to him, but he says nothing on the matter and is certain his optics are tricking him.

·Your talk of technique quickly surprises him by shifting to inspiration, which to you is the primary driving force of your work, as it influences how you go about conveying the subject matter. Eager to share what you mean, you explain that anything can have beauty worthy of capturing if you just take the time to look at it right. Even the most mundane or seemingly unappealing things can be remarkable if you know their story, and you want to convey that energy as wordlessly as possible.

·A little overwhelmed but quite impressed by your manner of reasoning, he rather jokingly asks if even beings like himself could ever inspire you, or perhaps another artist with your mindset. He's caught off gaurd like never before when you, quite enthusiastically, reply that he most certainly can and does! To keep his composure he recalls portraits of his likeness being commissioned to inspire his soldiers, but never believing these fell under the category of art so much as they did propaganda. They often depicted him quite... violently as well.

·Having never seen these pieces, you reply that your own experience is tied more to how you see him now, and you flip through your sketchbook to demonstrate. As close to your level as can be, he's speechless while you explain what you wanted to capture about him in each sketch, whether it's a quick study or a detailed project; and that's how safe he makes you feel. Hearing himself referred to as a protector cuts straight through his powerful armor.

·You depict him looking almost... gentle? Hearing you describe the his immense size as a source of comfort and his strength as a tool of keeping peace processes about as clearly to him as a foreign language, but he nods along and keeps the conversation going until his duties call him away. Though he says nothing of it, he volunteers himself for more of the physically demanding work around the ship. His body's purpose had always been decided for him, but you've reminded him he has the only true say in its use, and that everything really is a matter of perspective. Perhaps he'll take up sketching once this is all over.

Rodimus

·He's certainly always had an appreciation for visual appeal, even if his idea of beauty doesn't often overlap with what most would consider artistically valuable. This and his natural alertness makes him quick to notice you often sketch about the ship, frequently when he's present, but at first he leaves you alone to work in peace. Having a hobby on this crew is beyond valuable, and he doesn't want to distract you from a passion... That is, until he decides on one especially slow day to just ask you what you like to doodle about.

·You can tell he wants to be a little nosy, if only because he's naturally a curious bot about these things, but you're more than happy to share regardless. There's a lot due to the ample downtime on the quest, and he has to squint so he can properly scan the many sketches on the human sized paper. He happily recognizes friends, locales about the ship, even earth things he knows about... but he's not ready when he finds a picture of himself.

·While he remains outwardly playful, teasing you with how he'd pose if you only asked, he's internally flattered that you took the time to draw him. More specifically, he's touched by the way you drew him. The sketches and portraits portray him as a calm but amicable leader, standing tall and serving as a guide to those around him, a true "father to his men" kind of bot... it's everything he wants to be, but is quite certain he's not. He's barely able to keep up his smooth persona when he asks about your process.

·You explain that you find inspiration in everything, but he's been your chosen subject lately for a lot of reasons. It's no secret he's handsome, but you see something more when you look at him, and you did everything you could to show it here; there's a real leader in him. Maybe some bots don't see it under all the bluster and sarcasm, but you see how much he cares for every bot on his crew. He wants to be the best for all of them, and even if he struggles at times, that effort is beautiful to you.

·It takes everything in him to bite back some very embarrassing tears, and the crack in his voice doesn't help him hide the emotion, though he covers that up with unconvincing coughs and claims something got in his optic. From then on he seems to stand a little taller and find his assigned duties a little easier to bear, but you absolutely notice how he poses in what he believes to be heroic fashion whenever your sketchbook comes out. Inspired by his enthusiasm, you invite him to model more officially, and the crew is just happy to see him so enthusiastic.

Minimus

·Being as observant as he is, your consistent appraisal of your surroundings is not something he'd ever miss, but your frequent sketching in the most random places does leave him absolutely mystified. Every time he sees you there's artistic supplies on your person, but he can't find anything that appears to be worthy of putting to paper, so what could you be drawing? He respects your privacy too much, and feels too silly about his curiosity, to interpret and ask you for an explanation.

·Thus it's with some small eagerness that he finds one of your sketchbooks after it's been misplaced, and he sees the perfect opportunity to slip in a question. For the sake of handling something so tiny, he approaches without his armor, offering the lost item back with barely concealed pride at your delight to have it returned. In the moment of truth he nearly falters, but does indeed manage to ask what you draw around the ship. He leaves out the fact that he's observed you whenever you draw in his presence.

·The question has an answer only he seems to think isn't obvious; him! You spend time together frequently, and while everything is fair game for sketching, he's a very regular subject for you. Whether he's wearing the Magnus armor or not, you explain that the commanding aura he radiates is something you can't help but find beautiful. That word choice baffles him enough that he has to interrupt; beautiful? Commanding? Even without his armor?? You're delighted to assure him that you absolutely mean that.

·Hearing you describe the details of your reasoning, like the quiet dignity of his stance or the calm intelligence of his red optics, touches his spark in ways he wasn't expecting. He's calm and speaks softly as he keeps the conversation going, asking questions about your various works and listening attentively when you answer, processing your view of the universe as being packed with beauty in all the places people don't think to look.

·Any bot that sees him during the remainder of the day absolutely notices the change to his entire demeanor; namely that he's smiling a soft and barely perceptible smile. It's not long after he requests a few sketches from you to keep in his office, whether they're of him or not, and he has them framed in places of honor. He doesn't tell you, but you figure it out, that one particular drawing of him you gift for his sake is kept securely stored in a compartment by his spark.

Swerve

·Many bots may see him being a tad bit on the shallow side when it comes to the arts, but our beloved barkeep has his own unique appreciation for creativity and all the ways it can be visually expressed, and you recognize it not long after meeting him. As his bar is a frequent hangout for everyone, you find it to be a fantastic place to sit and sketch, as the variety of bots makes it quite easy to have your choice of subjects even if you have to sit on a table. Obviously Swerve notices and asks you what you're drawing when traffic slows one evening.

·You're happy to show him your work and he's always eager to hear what everyone is up to, so he starts asking questions about your art in general. How long have you been an artist? What's it like suddenly having a whole ship of aliens to sketch? Why draw here all the time? At that query you light up brilliantly, and he's delighted by your enthusiasm as you describe all the incredible sights the bar has to offer.

·You list some of your favorite things to draw, like the many friend groups on the ship that gather here, the brilliant colors of the glowing vats of enjex, and him smiling and rushing with orders through it all. That last one gets a flash of surprise from behind his visor, which is quickly overtaken by exuberant delight; you've been drawing him?! He babbles out a surge of confusing statements that you're eventually able to interpret as a request to see, just one he's too bashful to say directly.

·Happily obliging, you're touched by how he smiles at every little sketch, and feel compelled to explain that he's a big part of why you love drawing here. You try to see beauty in everything, even what often gets overlooked, and there's so very much of that here. The bar is one of those places that everyone knows is special, but you know he's the reason they love it like they do, and that his enthusiasm and hard work hold it all together. You find that inspiring, and actually quite beautiful. It doesn't hurt that his brilliant smile is always a treat to sketch.

·Trying to play it cool and totally failing, he doesn't quite hide that he's near to tears when he asks if you'd like to hang some of your work up in the bar, or maybe have a little corner for yourself to draw from. He just doesn't want you getting squished while you sketch, is all! And having a better vantage point is ideal for someone so small! When you accept, he gives you your own human sized accommodations not too far from the heart of the bar, and every so often when you sketch he'll glance up at you absolutely beaming.

[zims-left-shoe]

Can you do a Dib x Reader that’s into tarot cards and horoscopes? Also can make this AU a college AU? I know you said you write the characters up to high school but I was just wondering if you would. It’s fine you do them in high school.

Yeah! Just a warning, I’m not super experienced with tarot cards and everything, so apologies if a lot of it is inaccurate. I hope it’s still okay!!

The air was warm, and the sweet scents of pastries mingled with the sharp smell of coffee. The surrounding chatter of voices and calm music served as decent white noise. You lifted your drink to your lips, eyes drifting to the window next to you. Shades of grey painted the sky, muted tones growing ever darker as time ticked by. Outside, the air had a nasty nip to it, and you were not looking forward to stepping outside again. Plus, you were enjoying yourself in the moment. Your gaze was drawn back to the man across from you, his large glasses fogging slightly from the heat of his own drink. 

You were more than delighted that he had asked you to come study with him at the coffee shop. Sure, you had wished he had the courage to bite the bullet and ask you on an actual date, but on a chilly winter afternoon a relaxing coffee hangout and study session was still enjoyable. Admittedly, you had developed feelings for the reserved cryptid fanatic who sat next to you in your cell biology class. That being said, you were ecstatic when he had quietly asked that morning if you would like to grab a coffee and study with him. Although you wished for a bit more, the current situation was completely fine by you.

"Have you been doing anything interesting lately?" Both of you had finished your work quite some time ago, spending the rest of the time talking to each other, a silence only settling for a brief minute or two before you continued the conversation. Sure, it was small talk, but the kind of talk that occurs between friends when they can sense their time together is drawing to a close, and that the hangout will end soon. The kind of talk when you aren't ready to leave each other's company, so you attempt to draw out the conversation with simple things.

"Oh, you know, only what every normal college kid does. Party hard, baby." The straight face he was attempting to hold fell apart almost immediately as he broke into a chuckle. "Nah. Just the usual, studying the paranormal. Aliens, ghosts, all that stuff." A smile spread on your face. Of course he was. You found his unique obsession with spooks and cryptids cute, and you were glad he had a passion in life. Even if that passion was restricted while he was away at school, he would still find ways to express himself. He was always scribbling supernatural doodles in the margins of his notes, monitoring the local cryptid stories constantly. "Sorry. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm just not that interesting."

"Please. Liking the paranormal is much more interesting than being a party animal whose only hobby is getting wasted." You paused, setting your cup down on the table. "I wouldn't be here otherwise. I'm only attrac-I mean, drawn, to people who are intriguing."

Nice save, stupid... You thought to yourself. At this point, you were unsure if you should just tell him how you felt. You were reasonably confident that he felt the same way, but he was just too damn nervous to ruin your friendship. 

"Okay then, any secrets, or maybe embarrassing stories? Everyone has some. If you tell me one of yours, I'll tell you a story of mine." You bumped your bag that was resting underneath the table with your foot as you stared out at him, trying to pressure him into telling you something good. He always had the best stories. Especially when they were about aliens.

"My whole life is one embarrassing story after the other." He set his cup down as well, finding your eyes once more. "But, I guess one time I had my DNA fused with baloney." You laughed, believing him to be joking. You believed him a majority of the time, but that one was just so outlandish it couldn't possibly be true. "I'm not lying! Remember my stupid alien classmate? Well, he decided to get me back for throwing lunch meat in his face by making me sit on a tack that fused baloney DNA with my own." He was completely serious, so that left only two options: he was either completely insane or it was the truth. For the time you've known and befriended him, he seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, so what the hell. Why not believe him?

"I'm honestly not sure which part to ask for a follow up on, the alien classmate having baloney genetic makeup on the ready or being fused with sandwich meat." Brushing stray strands of hair from your face, you sighed, knowing that your story was in no way going to top that. "Mine isn't that exciting or embarrassing, but in high school, I charged for tarot readings in the bathrooms as a way to make some money. Well, I did until a teacher reported me for 'Satan worshipping'. Which, for starters is complete bullshit, but she was just jealous I made more money a week than she did." You smirked, remembering the look on her face when she confiscated your receipt book that you used to keep track of your profits. 

"Wait, you used to read tarot cards?" Dib offered you his full attention, eyes filled with wonder. "I've always thought it was cool, but I just never really had gotten into it. Too busy saving the Earth from aliens and all that."

"I still do. You have your cryptids and space creatures, I have my tarot cards and horoscopes." To your amazement, Dib appeared to be enchanted by the subject. Then again, you supposed it was more or less something you could see him getting into.

"How did I not know that about you?" You shrugged in response to his words. It had just never came up in conversation. "Maybe we could hang out again soon and you could walk me through it?" He looked to be a bit apprehensive, almost as if you had already rejected the idea in his mind. You didn't even have to consider the idea. Not only did you harbor feelings for him, you would jump at the chance to show off your skills and interests.

"I would love to. My roommate has to work Friday night, maybe you could come to my dorm then?" A dorky grin spread across his face as he reached for his cup to drink the remaining coffee.

"It's a date, then." His face flushed as he realized his wording. "Not like that! As friends! You know what I mean." His fingers drummed on the tabletop, and you were sure he was sweating.

"I mean, unless...?" You made an overexaggerated thinking face, and after a moment, you both busted up laughing. However, you were of course only half joking.

(more under the cut)

-

Pushing open the door, you stepped into the room you had made your own. Kicking aside some shoes your roommate had left piled by the door, you let the man behind you inside.

"Sorry for the mess, I asked my roommate to clean up. They didn't."

"It's fine. You should see my dorm, it's definitely worse." Chuckling, you led him to your side of the room, which was a stark contrast from the other. Everything, for the most part anyway, was organized within bins, your desk nice and tidy despite having many trinkets and various things resting on the desktop. You had made a nice personal space under your bed, it was where you would often sit when you got tired of your desk or bed. Gesturing for him to take a seat on the floor under your bed, you went over to your desk, shuffling through one of your drawers until you felt your fingers close around your tarot deck.

"You have any questions before we start?" You hummed as you closed the drawer.

Dib's eyes were intently focused on you as he sat cross-legged underneath your bed. Finally, he spoke, albeit tentatively. "Just one, but it's kind of stupid."

"There are no stupid questions."

"Okay, in that case...does reading tarot cards like, open up your third eye and let you see ghosts and stuff?" Staring into his face revealed that he wasn't kidding. He was legitimately asking if you could see ghosts when you learned to read tarot cards.

"I changed my mind. There are stupid questions." Laughter slipped out as you sunk down the the floor across from him, tipping the box in your hands until the cards slid out. "Of course it does."

"Woah, really?" His cinnamon eyes sparkled with excitement, and yet again, a flurry of giggles escaped you.

"No, of course not. It doesn't make you see ghosts. It develops greater intuition and understanding." Dib let out a long breath, gaze falling to the floor as he picked at the chipping black polish on his nails, regretting he ever asked that question.

"Can we just forget I ever said that? Please?" You nodded as you separated the deck in your hands, shuffling them together. You did this many times over, the sharp sounds of cards coming together cutting through the stillness that had settled over the room. Dib stared at the cards in your hand, watching as you shuffled them with skill. He had lost track of how many times you had done so by the time you had stacked them together for the final time.

"So, is there anything specific you want to learn? I can't exactly teach you to read, since it takes a lot of practice and a deck you're comfortable with." As you looked to him expectantly, he appeared to be at a total loss for what to even ask for. "I could give you a simple reading just for fun." 

"Sure! But, uh, how do they work?" A smile crept onto your face. You felt a warm glow of happiness at being able to share your interests with someone who was genuinely interested in learning about them.

"Well, if I were to do it by myself, I would shuffle them as I did now. It helps bring your energy to the cards, and therefore you will be more drawn to certain ones. Plus, you can better interpret them." You passed the deck to Dib. "If you can shuffle, shuffle them. Do it several times."

"Okay...what exactly are you reading for?" He began shuffling, although not as cleanly as you. A few times the cards had slipped from his grip, flying out in all directions. Every time that would happen, he gathered the cards and began to shuffle again as he listened to you.

"Well, we're just going to do a simple spread of three, but it can be for almost anything. Your past, present, and future, advice for obstacles, relationships, all of that stuff." 

"Relationships?" Dib stacked the cards for a final time, handing them back to you. You took them, spreading them out in front of you, face down. 

"Yeah, there's all different types of readings for relationships. Is that the simple spread you want?" He thought for a moment, a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he looked to you. 

"I think so. You said there's different types of relationship readings, so just make an executive decision for me."

"That's not how this works." Your sigh was broken by a chuckle. "But fine. I'll do a spread where a card represents you, the other person, and the relationship." You found yourself wishing for a good outcome, thinking that he was most likely asking about the relationship he could possibly have with you, or at least that's what you were hoping for. "Pick three cards that you're drawn to and line them up across from you."

"Alright..." He stared at the arc of cards that was laid out in the space between you, deliberating, eyes carefully calculating. He brushed a finger across the glossy backs of the cards, finally deciding on two close to the middle, and one on the leftmost edge. He laid them out as you had asked, looking back to you expectantly. "Now what?"

"Now I give you your reading. I'll try my best to interpret the cards in the context of your life, but don't hold it against me if I'm not one hundred percent accurate." You flipped over the spread, the three cards facing up.

"Did I do good...?"

"It's not about making the right choices, it's about being drawn to the cards." You chided, looking at his spread. The cards that had been turned over were an upright Nine of Wands, a reversed Hanged Man, and an upright World. "Let's start with you." You pushed the card a little closer to him. It depicted a bandaged man leaning heavily on a wooden wand, surrounded by the other eight. "This is the Nine of Wands."

"Is it bad?" He looked curious, but there were concerned undertones in his expression.

"No, not necessarily. As a card, it represents courage, determination, and resilience. In the context of your part in the relationship, there may be or have been setbacks for you personally, but you have the strength to overcome those things. You might get hurt, or things may be tough and uncertain for you right now, but you will persist and get through it." A light blush dusted his cheeks as he nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds about right...does getting in your own way count as a setback?" Dib chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair.

"Sure. If I had to offer advice...no risk, no reward, right?" You both locked eyes for a moment, a hush falling over the room yet again. Again, this same, infuriating dance. You both were aware of how you felt. Yet neither would make a move. 

"I suppose..." Dib actually seemed to be taking all of this into deep consideration. You couldn't help the hope that you felt rising in your chest.

"Alright, next...the other individual. This is the Hanged Man, but it's reversed." Again, you pushed the card forward. It depicted a man who was supposed to be hanging by the ankle from a tree, but from the direction it was turned, it appeared he was more standing upright.

"Are reversed cards bad?"

"They can be. The reversed Hanged Man for example generally means that the person is ready to go but is being held back. In context of the other person in your case, maybe they're ready to jump into a relationship but you might be holding them back by not taking a chance." Okay, so maybe that wasn't really a reading. You may have been guilty of inserting your own personal feelings into the reading, since you assumed the relationship in question was between yourself and Dib. You recognized the hint of irritation that was edging your words, so you drew in a deep breath, continuing on in a softer tone. "You know, like you said. You said your setback could be getting in your own way. You might be overthinking everything, which is restricting the other person from taking the next step."

"You think so?" Again, that damned knowing tone. When you looked into his eyes, you knew that he was aware of how you felt. And yet he still stopped himself every time from taking that leap. Was he waiting for you to make the first move? You hoped not. Sure, it may have been hypocritical, but you wanted no part in asking for a more romantic end to your friendship.

Clearing your throat, you decided to move to the last card of the spread. "The relationship itself. This card is the World." You held it up this time to show him, wishing to hold onto it. The card illustrated a naked woman in the middle of a wreath, surrounded by various animal heads. "Generally, it represents being in the right place, pausing before the next stage." Admittedly, that was not the reading you had desired. You didn't want to stay as only friends. "In context of the relationship, it could be interpreted as staying put, and just appreciating where the two of you are. There will be lots of options and pathways ahead and all that." You waved your hand dismissively, unable to fight off the exhaustion that was settling in. "So, anyway, that was your very basic reading." You stacked the cards together again, lazily patting the ground around you for the box.

"Is this stuff, like, certain advice?"

"You mean, do you have to take it? No, I suppose not. It's just suggestions and life advice based on interpretations."

Dib crawled his way over to sit by your side as you put your cards safely back in their box. You quirked an eyebrow, yet said nothing. "Okay, because I'm not too into that last one." Without tearing his eyes away from yours, his fingers brushed your own. He kept eyeing your face to confirm that what he was doing was alright. Always cautious, that one. 

"I probably shouldn't give my input, since it's your life advice, but me either." A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as his fingers finally laced themselves with yours, his free hand drifting up to your face. His touch was light, so much so that you weren't even sure if it was there. In that moment, Dib was a walking contradiction, unsure of himself yet completely secure at the same time.

"But if you're reading the cards, aren't I asking for your input?" Slowly he leaned his face closer to yours, hand still resting on your cheek. Fitting, wasn't it? Everything the both of you had ever done was drug out to the maximum. Whether it was that you both enjoyed the frustration or you wanted to extend every moment you had together, you would never know. Nor did it matter. Especially not then. 

"I suppose you are." You reached out a hand to run it through his hair, intertwining your fingers with the dark strands. "You're sure, then?" Each word that was spoken became progressively fainter. The entire time you spoke, his lips were barely a breath away from your own.

As if your words were the cue he needed to commit, he murmured a quick, "I think so." before finally closing the distance and pressing his lips softly against yours. He didn't need to speak for you to know that was all he had been dreaming of doing for a long while. It was obvious in the magical way he was moving his lips in time with your own, in the way delighted hums and mumbles would rise from his throat. In your opinion, there was something to be said about mouth-to-mouth communication. This was possibly the happiest you had ever seen him, you didn't need to be a master of intuition to interpret that. You felt him smile into the kiss, and you couldn't resist smiling along with him. 

Dib finally pulled away after what felt like both an eternity and hardly any time at all. "You said it yourself. No risk, no reward." His grin was wide, and his eyes shone with joy behind his large glasses. 

"Correct." Your hand fell from his hair to his coat, fingers playing with the fabric of the collar. "I usually charge for tarot readings, but for you, another kiss and consider your tab paid."

"Sounds fair enough to me." Leaning in once more, Dib planted yet another kiss on your lips. It was much quicker than the previous one, but after pulling back he proceeded to pepper several little kisses all over your face. Each was very light and brief, leaving your skin feeling tingly. His lips found your own once more, both hands tangling themselves in your hair. A simple tarot reading had somehow morphed into a very physical expression of feelings that had been pushed down for months. You wouldn't complain, though.

"Thank you for your payment." Your words were broke by giggles after you had parted. 

"Of course." Dib's gaze drifted to the box of cards that was sitting off to the side, his smile never wavering. "You know, you should teach me how to read those."

"Only if you take me cryptid hunting."

"Deal." He laughed at the determined smirk on your face, wrapping his arms around you. You let him pull you into a hug, your arms snaking around him as if that was where they were always meant to be. 

"So, can we safely consider ourselves ex-friends now? Because personally, I feel that we're much better off as lovers."

"Like I said before, I trust your input, it's what I asked for." 

"So, lovers it is?"

"Lovers it is." Dib's voice was pleasant as you snickered into his chest, more than pleased with how the day had went. You sensed that he would agree with that notion. 

[revlyncox]

Naming Our Joy

Taking note of all of the things that make us happy - large and small - is a helpful practice. This Platform Address was written for the Washington Ethical Society, June 20, 2021.

We started a project at our house on June 1. Even though we’re not yet back to spending a whole afternoon indoors at the library with the children, we wanted to collectively celebrate the experience of a summer reading club. The kids used several sheets of flip chart paper to draw one hundred rectangles, plus doodles and illustrations and instructions for a shared reading chart. Everyone in the house has their own color of magic marker to color in a rectangle with the name of a book as we complete it. Reading, for us, is a delight. Asking each other questions about what we’re reading is a love-language. And so, as the rectangles have bloomed in six different colors throughout the month so far, each one has been a small notation of joy.

Sometimes we think about the seasons of our joy only in terms of peak experiences. We think of the Winter Festival, or New Year’s Eve, or the state fair, each a symbolic splash on a monthly page in the scrapbooks in our minds. If you’re a person who celebrates birthdays, maybe that’s an important milestone. Maybe camping or travel or visiting family we can rarely see sticks out in our minds as we anticipate our hopes for the year ahead. These are all good things. And yet peak experiences are not the only things that bring us joy.

It seems to me that paying attention to all of the things that bring us joy can help carry us through times of transition. Many things in our shared lives are improving, and we’ll get back to some of our favorite big, celebratory events in adapted ways; meanwhile, let’s value all of the things that keep us grounded in the best of who we are and who we can be. Today, as we hang on the cusp of summer, celebrating parents and graduates and weddings and pride, yet still aching from a difficult year and a half, let’s open our minds and hearts to all the forms of joy we can name.

Today’s story, “A List,” from Frog and Toad Together by Arnold Lobel, gives some hints about how to notice joy. The attention to detail in this story, the room Lobel makes in the narrative for pause, and the enduring friendship that is the focus of the entire series are all helpful lessons for us as we gather up sparks of happiness in our own lives, fireflies that may be only with us for a moment, but whose lights we can remember for years. From this story, I learn that small things count, that it’s important to rest and reset, and that we can find joy when we travel together.

Small Things Count

As we are naming our joy, small things count. Frog begins his day by checking off tasks like, “get dressed” and “eat breakfast.” Those things matter. There are days when self-care is a victory, and days when we need to practice self-compassion because those tasks are out of reach. In some ways, it’s a practice of mindfulness, of paying attention to where we are in the moment. As we dress, we can notice the feeling of fabric on skin, and we can hold in loving kindness all those who saw to the completion of that garment.

I think back to times when celebrating small things got me through the day, or helped me inch toward a distant goal, or just brought me back to center after being knocked off balance by the regular turns of daily life. After my children were born, I decided to give fitness walking and running a try. I had never done that before - my favorite team sports up until that time were swimming and frisbee - but something about taking time for myself with my headphones every day was appealing at that point in my life. So I got a “couch to 5K” application on my phone to help guide me through workouts that started very small, and gradually increased until I could participate in a whole race.

The first couple of days were frustrating. I felt like I spent more time lacing up my shoes than I did actually running. But eventually, because there were records, I could look back and see my stamina increasing over time. Not every day, because some days are better than others, but over time there was improvement. I could celebrate when I could run rather than walk for a whole minute, and then a whole five minutes. When I was able to value the time I spent on the practice, even if all I could do that day was walk around the block, I had more energy to keep going. I did get to run in a race eventually. I have since switched to a different form of exercise for my regular workouts, because I have age-appropriate knees, but I did learn something about finding joy in small achievements. Sometimes we need to work up to things gradually, and when there are setbacks we need to work up gradually again. Writing down the joys and the milestones can help.

Focusing on the positive aspects of the experience and on the signs of improvement helped me sustain a practice. The same can be true for groups. I think people at WES have experienced Appreciative Inquiry before. Sometimes we think of Appreciative Inquiry in terms of a meeting or an event or a process of discernment, it’s also a paradigm shift in our organizational life together, a perspective where we lift up and leverage strengths rather than focusing on deficits. The philosophy of Appreciative Inquiry was developed by David Cooperrider and Suresh Srivastva at Case Western Reserve University in the early 1990s. So Appreciative Inquiry has been around for awhile now, and there are newer ideas we need to incorporate about competing value systems and multicultural competency, yet I think it is worth returning to an approach where we ask questions about what’s working and build a positive vision for a future we can move toward together. To bring out the best we can be, we need to identify and nurture what’s best right now.

As our community gradually re-emerges from the pandemic and builds toward a new normal of accessibility, inclusion, compassion, and justice, we will face setbacks, and the speed of our hopes may outpace the reality of how fast we can go without leaving people behind. Let’s find joy in each moment, each time we find ourselves sharing time or space or intention. When you appreciate something about WES going forward, write it down. Ask questions about how members can keep doing what you do well. Share your excitement about small things with others. Make a list, because small things count.

Rest and Reset

The second thing we learn from Frog and Toad about naming our joy is that we can rest and reset. The first thing on Toad’s list is “wake up.” That’s what makes it the beginning of the list. Every day is new. The last thing on the list is “go to sleep.” Toad does not take for granted that he will automatically remember to rest at the end of the day, he puts it on a list. Maybe some of us need a reminder sometimes, to care for our bodies instead of pushing to do one more thing. And when he doesn’t know what else to do, Toad pauses. Now, as the reader, we can imagine that it would also have been a fine choice for Toad to let go of his attachment to his list and either help Frog try to find it or create a new plan, and maybe that’s something some of us need to hear as well, but I also have some admiration for a character who will simply pause rather than rushing into the next thing without consideration.

We’ve talked before at WES about the tension between our focus on “deeds, not creeds,” and the philosophical foundation of the inherent worth and dignity of every person--value that people simply have without earning it. What we do, and the impact we have, is of greater concern than the intentions of our minds or the secrets of our hearts. Yet we cannot forget that worth is inherent, even if we or our neighbors haven’t achieved any great deeds lately. So I hope we can encourage ourselves and each other to rest. People need time to bask in their inherent worth; to notice the beauty of the people and world around them and within them; and to care for their own valuable, precious being. It may be the case that allowing rest for ourselves will also remind us of the inherent worth of others, and will lead us to create a world where every person can have what they need rather than putting up obstacles to separate the worthy from the unworthy. Rest may give us a foretaste of the Beloved Community. Rest creates room for the experience of joy.

The reset part is also important. We can experience time as a kind of river, and there are ways in which the past and the future flow into one another, yet most of us experience time as moving. The past and the present and the future are connected, but they are different from one another. Rest gives us an island in the river so that we can separate them, looking back and looking forward and looking around us so that we can differentiate what was from what is and from what we anticipate will be. Things that brought us joy in the past are worth remembering fondly, but that doesn’t mean repeating the same thing will bring us the same joy or is even possible. Being present in the here and now, resting in the sense of not striving or problem solving or planning or fixing, helps us experience what is bringing us joy right now, without diminishing that joy with comparison to the past or the future. Frog and Toad go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow they will take another walk, or go swimming, or grow a garden, or write a letter. But the comfort of being in that moment is where we pause at the end of that chapter, and pausing helps us value the joy in that moment. Rest and reset to highlight the joy of the present moment.

Travel Together

A third thing we learn from Frog and Toad is that traveling together can help us amplify joy. The thing on Toad’s to-do list that transforms his day is meeting up with Frog. As companions, they support each other in new discoveries, they affirm each other, and sometimes they can be of service to their friend in a way that brings its own kind of joy. When Frog sees the list, he says, “Oh, that is very nice.” Frog appreciates the project his friend has worked on, and that’s a source of happiness. When Toad is disappointed about losing his list, Frog sits with him, simply being present, the peace of friendship providing a balance to the sorrow of a project gone awry. As the evening nears, Frog reminds Toad of something on his list, and reconnecting with his project brings Toad the excitement of a reclaimed goal. There is more joy in their adventure together than there would have been for either of them alone.

May it be so for all of us. Sometimes companions are hard to find, and most relationships come with moments of tension and conflict, yet there are ways we can cultivate a practice of presence with one another that amplify joy, make sorrow more bearable, and help sustain us on the journey. Some of the secret is in the first two things we learned, that small things count and that we can take time to rest and reset. Small affirmations and appreciations make a difference in our relationships, they help us find joy in each other. Taking time to rest, being fully present even when our companions are having a difficult time, letting the new day reset us for the here and now to be with our loved ones as the people they have grown to become, all of these are practices of friendship that make room for joy.

Over the past year and a half, we have had to reassess what it means to travel together. We share time differently than we used to. We find connection in chat messages and text messages, shared movies over an internet connection, recorded sentiments and songs, notes back and forth about books we’re reading, and cards in the postal mail that are ever more precious. May it be so that in-person connections become more practical for more people, but that does not take away the value of the connections that sustained us during this time. We don’t need to devalue the ways we had to adapt, and we definitely don’t need to abandon the people for whom those adaptations are still needed. We are better together, and that includes the friends who have limited mobility, or sensory sensitivities, or transportation challenges, or delicate immune systems. Our beloveds of inherent worth come in many varieties.

I believe there are spectacular adventures ahead for WES. This continues to be a vital community of exploration, mutual support, and action for justice. We will find new ways to live out WES’s core values, and become ever more fluent in new and old ways to connect as members journey in collaboration. We are better together. In that, there is joy. I invite you to continue that joyful journey and your commitment to WES.

Conclusion

Our joy is cultivated and uplifted when we notice it in progress. This is especially true of the small joys, the moments of contentment, discovery, and affection that sneak up on us without being scheduled. Taking note of our joys - writing them down, sharing them with each other, savoring the moments, naming these times as what they are - helps us to experience them fully. Small things count, so give every moment of joy its due. Rest and reset, finding ways to be fully present and to bask in your inherent worth. Travel together, with appreciation for your companions, respect for their inherent worth, and joy in what you can discover in your shared journey.

[miracleboiz]

Making a Home Ch. 10

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 3k

Relationships: Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuse

Not from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

Shinsuke didn’t look up as the doorbell rang again, letting Oikawa move past him to greet whoever had come in. Instead he and Osamu had Azumane on his knees in the back corner office while Osamu did his best to braid a ribbon into the long stips. Azumane still looked a little traumatized from having a four foot tall child run up to him and yell the question at him to braid his hair.

“Are you sure… This is highly unprofessional.” Azumane said, glancing up at his boss.

Shinsuke was moving the drawings on the back wall to clear up more space and barely gave Azumane a quick flick of his eyes before he was shrugging. He didn’t say that as long as Osamu was smiling he would let him do anything, he didn’t think it needed saying aloud.

“My store, my rules. And I think you’re meeting the dress code just fine.” Shinsuke hummed, trying not to laugh at Azumane’s defeated sigh.

“We have a dress code?” Sugawara’s voice made Azumane whine a little louder as the silver haired man crouched down to offer Osamu a new clip to slide into the braided ribbons before moving to the thread wall. Azumane gave him a look of despair as the butterfly was quickly added to his hair, Shinsuke only felt a little guilty that it was probably starting to get unnaturally heavy. Not nearly enough to stop Osamu though

“Yes, it specifically states not to wear anything Oikawa considers to be good.” Shinsuke turned, ignoring the laughter that broke from Sugawara as the pounding of feet reached him. Seconds later Atsumu burst through the gateway.

“ ‘Samu! I’m getting married.” The words made Shinsuke drop the drawings immediately as he scrambled to understand what was going on. He twisted to stare open mouthed at Atsumu, completely speechless as the child rushed at his brother and skittered to a stop in front of him.

“Why?” Osamu looked as confused and terrified as Shinsuke himself felt. Atsumu either didn’t notice or didn’t care because he just held up a box with a bright oversized grin.

“ ‘Cuz if I marry him then I get all the cookies always!” Atsumu chirped, eyes wide with wonder and delight. Shinsuke slowly turned his head to blink at Azumane and Sugawara, both of them were already looking to him for answers.

“Akagi…” Shinsuke called, letting his eyes fall shut as he heard Akagi’s squeaky answer from outside of the back office. He moved around the boys, pausing only enough to brush Atsumu’s hair down from the wind, and looked to find Akagi attempting to hide behind a rack.

“I left you alone with him for…” He glanced at the clock and then back over. “An hour and a half. And now he’s getting married?”

Akagi looked momentarily ashamed before shrugging and holding up a box of baked goods. He smiled pleasantly over the box, attempting to flutter his lashes sweetly but it did nothing against Shinsuke’s annoyed glare.

“It’s not my fault.” Akagi whined, pitching his voice up and making a few customers glance over. He quieted when Shinsuke’s eyes narrowed but his pout only grew stronger as he huffed.

“I didn’t tell Shinji-kun to give him an extra muffin. He just did it and said he liked Atsumu’s shirt, then Atsumu was declaring their engagement to everyone. I thought I was going to have to fight Takahiro-kun for his son’s honor.”

Shinsuke watched him before sighing and glancing back at the twins. They had joined Azumane on the ground and were currently sharing pieces of muffin with him while Sugawara finished grabbing the fabric he’d actually come in for.

“I think Asahi’s already planning the wedding outfits,” Sugawara said breezily as he moved past and back to his customer.

“I’m not making enough money to deal with all of you at the same time.” Shinsuke said softly, wondering if this was going to be his life. 

Running after Akagi to keep him from accidentally traumatizing Shinsuke’s kids, or worse teaching them things to traumatize all of the adults in their life. Meanwhile, Sugawara had found Oikawa and was currently harassing him with a perfectly innocent smile while he tailored a customer’s pant leg. Azumane had grabbed his tablet and was sketching something out while Atsumu was being taught by his brother how to continue the endless braids on Azumane’s head.

In all honesty, a life like this… was a good one. The feeling was sweet, winding in Shinsuke’s stomach as he watched the scene and he wondered if that was why his grandmother had never given up on foster care. Children weren’t necessary for his life to be happy, he was happy before they had arrived and if they left he would still find his life fulfilling and what he wanted. Yet, they brought something new, something light that Shinsuke was hesitant to give up. He could nurture them, protect them, help them grow and the option was more enticing by the minute.

“Oh shit you’re smiling… I’m going to die… Goodbye my sweet ‘Mimi, goodbye my muscular boo Aran, farewell my darling nephews- Shinsuke where are you going? You know my dramatic monologue needs an audience. Don’t make me download TikTok to get attention, you know I’ll do it.” Akagi called softly as Shinsuke took the box of treats before turning and walking away, a fondly exasperated smile playing on his lips. Shinsuke raised a hand to dismiss his remarks, ignoring the whine that rose up.

“Go help one of the customers, I have kids to watch.” Shinsuke said, slipping into the office to watch Atsumu finish his first braid. It was terrible and unbalanced and Shinsuke was proud of him.

“Hey, did you want to meet the others and bring them their muffins?” Shinsuke asked the two of them, holding up Akagi’s box in explanation. Both of them lit up, smiling brightly as they nodded and reached their hands up eagerly for Shinsuke to take them.

The day passed rather quickly, especially after the length of the day before, and as seven o’clock hit Shinsuke was flipping off the last light in the shop. Azumane and Sugawara had left only a few minutes before and Akaashi had escaped a few hours ago. Oikawa was still on the phone with someone but he gave Shinsuke a thumbs up and mimed locking the door as he passed.

Atsumu had already snuck back into the house and was curled up on the couch with Kitty as he played through ‘Spyro’. Osamu on the other hand, had decided he was in charge of Akagi for the day and was enjoying bossing him around.

Still, Shinsuke hadn’t expected to walk into the office between the two buildings to see Akagi on the floor and Osamu in front of him. Osamu was doing his absolute best to explain how to draw a flower for a card and Akagi was either intentionally harassing him or genuinely had no idea what he was doing. Shinsuke watched from the doorway for a moment before deciding it was a little bit of both.

More than a few doodles decorated the floor, markers and crayons laying beside both of their knees while they leaned over Akagi’s current project. Each one was decorated with rather… adorable characters for ‘cheer up’ and ‘you’re doing great’. Shinsuke honestly had no idea what it was for or why Osamu was making Akagi make them but as long as they were having fun he wasn’t going to say anything.

“No, no, you have to make petals- Shinsuke-san!” Osamu chirped as he felt eyes on his back and turned to see him. He grinned, a bright and free smile, and pointed at Akagi who was still just drawing lines on his paper.

“We’re making cards for Azumane! So when he gets scared he can look at these and know it’s okay!” Osamu explained and Shinsuke’s heart melted. He moved over, gently mussing the hair and trying not to give in to the urge to kiss his head.

“That’s great, Osamu. Will you be helping me with dinner tonight as well?” He asked, heart swelling at the way Osamu’s eyes lit up and the child twisted to grab ahold of his hand.

“Can I?”

“Of course. But you need to clean up all of this before we can. So why don’t you help Akagi clean up and then we can get started?” Shinsuke offered and Osamu nodded. He turned to Akagi, hands on his hips.

“C’mon Oji-san! Let’s get this taken care of! Then I can show you how to cook so you’re not hungry anymore.”

Shinsuke laughed softly, making his way inside as Akagi insisted he knew how to cook. Between himself and Osamu, Akagi might actually leave the country with basic knowledge to feed himself instead of eating out constantly.

Shinsuke glanced over at the couch as he walked in, noting Atsumu’s curled-up position. As attached to his brother as he was, Atsumu hadn’t really branched out much and didn’t seem to connect with people as well as his brother. Even with his comment about marriage (though Shinsuke still thought it was rather cute he had forgotten that money was a thing that he could use to buy pastries and instead skipped straight to marriage) he hadn’t brought up Shinji-kun or the bakery again all day.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” Shinsuke asked softly, waiting for Atsumu’s nervous glance and jerky head nod. “Thank you, Atsumu… Can I check on your cheek?”

This time Atsumu fully froze, pressing the pause button on the game. His eyes darted to Shinsuke before he slowly nodded his head, anxiety clear in his gaze. Despite seeming to finally relax and branch out, Atsumu wasn’t actually asking for what he wanted. Instead he was letting his brother lead them around and following along happily with whatever adult offered him something.

Shinsuke moved closer until he could gently tilt up the child’s head, looking over the dark purple skin carefully. Atsumu’s eye didn’t seem affected by it and it was healing well for only being the second day. Though Shinsuke could see that it was slightly swollen, the skin around it pink and irritated like someone had been prodding it.

“Does it hurt much?” Shinsuke asked as he pulled his hand back with a quiet thank you.

“I’ve had worse.” Atsumu said and Shinsuke noticed he didn’t answer the question. Atsumu turned his head away as Shinsuke tried to look closer, a frown on his own lips.

“Atsumu, were you touching it?” He kept his voice light and gentle so Atsumu wouldn’t think he was in trouble. Regardless the child flinched subtly, fingers grasping the controller tighter.

“The… the people in the shop… kept staring…” Atsumu confessed after a few heartbeats, shaking slightly. “I wanted to make them go away but… It just… made it worse…”

Shinsuke stared at him for a moment, feeling guilty for not noticing at all. Of course Atsumu would have been self conscious about his face especially with the memory of how it happened so fresh in his memory. 

“Why didn't you say anything?” Shinsuke regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Of course Atsumu hadn’t said anything. He didn’t know he could trust anyone yet, it was only the second day there was no way he would have warmed up so quickly with his past.

Atsumu froze, shaking slightly and Shinsuke realized he was trying to hold his breath before he started crying. His mind blanked for a second before he rapidly told himself to calm down and instead focused on Atsumu.

“I’m sorry Atsumu. It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me things, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise…” Shinsuke started but it was clear that it wasn’t helping when Atsumu shook again with a ragged breath. “Atsumu…”

Shinsuke licked his lips, trying to think of how to calm him down before Osamu and Akagi finished. He didn’t want Atsumu shutting himself off to everyone to keep his brother happy and he definitely didn’t want Osamu to pick up on his brother’s panic and leave him with two anxious kids to calm down.

“Atsumu,” he started again letting his voice soften until it was near a whisper, “it’s alright. I’m sorry they were staring at you, next time you can come back inside if you want. I’m sorry I didn’t notice, I should have been there to help you. I’m very sorry I didn’t protect you.”

Atsumu’s gaze shot to him, once, twice, three times. The tiniest tears were forming at the edge of his eyes at his panic before confusion started to build instead. His mouth moved without words, and his eyes danced around the room. His fingers tapped at the controller for a moment before he finally seemed to be able to come back to himself.

“What…” His voice was a whisper and Shinsuke regretted not watching his words better. “Why… Why are you sorry?”

“Atsumu, it scared you right? Made you upset that they stared?” Shinsuke waited for the inevitable nod before continuing. “I should have stopped that but I didn’t realize it was happening. It’s my fault for not protecting you… Atsumu… A parent is supposed to protect you, I should have let you know you were allowed to leave earlier or let you know you could have stayed right next to me. And for that I’m sorry. The bruises on your face won’t go away by poking at them, they’ll just hurt worse and now it’s because I failed you. I’m sorry, Atsumu. I hope you can forgive me.”

Atsumu wasn’t able to speak, he just stared at Shinsuke. Choked noises came from his throat but no words escaped as he looked on with confusion and anxiety. The child swallowed, looking away a second later before rapidly nodding his head.

The only other time any adult had ever apologized had been when Kenma-kun said sorry for his game music being loud back at the police station. No adult had ever apologized to Atsumu for messing up and certainly none of his foster parents had ever bothered to ask him to forgive them.

Atsumu had no idea what to do with the knowledge or how to act. Did he say yes? Did he hug Shinsuke? Did he say sorry back? Cry? Smile?

He put the controller down slowly beside him, biting his lip as he turned to look more fully at Shinsuke. His foster parent actually looked remorseful, like he did really feel bad for not noticing Atsumu’s problem. Atsumu wasn’t really sure how to tell him that he was good at hiding it, and he had a feeling that would just make Shinsuke sad again. After all… Parents were supposed to love their kids right? Being hurt would make a parent sad and Shinsuke had said...

“You… Said...parent…” Atsumu said softly, flinching internally as Shinsuke blinked at him. He meant foster parent, of course he did. Atsumu shook his head, shoving away the hope and the heartache that was taking its place.

“It’s okay…” Atsumu said quickly as Shinsuke opened his mouth to say something. “Really… it’s okay. I… I… I’ll leave, next time.”

Shinsuke hesitated, wanting to push further but this wasn’t a teenager. This was a scared six year old who didn’t have the tools or the emotional maturity to talk through all of this in one sitting. They’d have to work at it. Together.

“Only if you want to.” Shinsuke murmured, tilting his head to look at the bruises again. “I’ll go get an ice pack for the swelling alright?”

Atsumu nodded, letting his gaze fall to the couch when Shinsuke left. He should have known better than to think Shinsuke actually thought of himself as their parent. He must have meant whichever parents decided to adopt them, if any did.

Yet….

Shinsuke-san was kind, was it bad of Atsumu to wish Shinsuke was his parent? That Shinsuke would decide to keep them after all instead of passing them off like a baton? Was Atsumu a bad person for not wanting Shinsuke to be disappointed in him for being weak? Was he betraying his future parents by wanting Shinsuke to stay with him and Osamu?

He jumped as he felt Shinsuke sitting down again, looking up to see him offering an ice pack in one hand and… The fish crackers that Atsumu had asked for at the store.

Shinsuke’s blank face softened and Atsumu was starting to realize that Shinsuke wasn’t blank so much as… quiet. You had to look further than just his frown to know what he was thinking.

“You didn’t eat much at lunch since you ate so many muffins, so I thought you might like them.” Shinsuke explained as he reached forward and placed the ice pack gently over Atsumu’s bruise. Atsumu shook slightly, the words escaping him again but Shinsuke didn’t seem to mind as he ruffled his hair.

“Are you okay? You just have to nod or shake your head, okay?” Shinsuke said, the corners of his lips lifting as Atsumu nodded his head and moved to hold the pack on his face. Shinsuke pushed off the couch after opening the box, turning back towards the shop.

“I’m going to go see what’s taking Osamu and Akagi so long okay?” He explained, moving a few steps towards the door. He glanced back when a soft noise came from Atsumu, taking in the blinking eyes that lingered on the spot beside him.

Atsumu didn’t want to be alone again. Part of him hated it, he’d only had Osamu for years. Why was it different now? Part of him wanted to call Shinsuke back, ask if he was allowed a hug… Ask if he could stay a little while longer so Atsumu could pretend Shinsuke cared about him more than the money, more than because a friend asked. So Atsumu could pretend a little longer he was wanted.

“Hey Atsumu?” Shinsuke called, waiting until he glanced up to make sure he heard. “After dinner, would you be okay with showing me how to play that minecraft game?”

Atsumu’s eyes lit up immediately and he nodded, the barest hint of a grin growing on his face. Shinsuke couldn’t help but smile back, finally turning to look for his wayward sons that probably were covering his walls in paint. 

They had some more work to do. A lot more work really, but Atsumu was smiling and Osamu’s laughter was echoing from the office. Shinsuke couldn’t help but think that this was a very good life.

[nade2308]

I don’t wanna live to waste another day

A/N: It’s completed. Finally! And I am proud and happy to present you with my new fic.

First of all I’d like to thank @stanclub for arranging this challenge on Tumblr, and again as the first time I wrote a fic for one of their challenges, it was a pleasure and I can’t say my thanks enough times because I challenged myself again per se. I hope you like this.

Then thanks go to my partner in crime and lab rat, @82tweeder. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t be finished my story or posting for that matter. She was luckily able to go through the story today and she was of great help. Thank you babe. For cheering me and reading through it. It means a lot.

I’d also like to thank @lisamott9 that also cheered me on when I told her about this challenge and the fic. She had so many nice words to say about me and my writing that pushed me to move on from where I was on Tuesday and things just kind of picked themselves up yesterday and today. So, thank you girl, you know how much I appreciate your input. And now I can work on that other story we discussed (maybe I need a little bit of inspiration first, but I’m sure I can tackle that).

And last, thanks to delighted who was kind enough to suggest a few ideas as to where I can go with my story. Thank you hon for one of those suggestions made it in the fic and I was very happy to put it there.

And without further ado, let’s proceed with the story.

Title: I don’t wanna live to waste another day (from “Breaking Inside” by Shinedown).

Written for: @stanclub 2.5k followers writing challenge.

Prompt: Friends to lovers: I keep drawing you in my sketchbook because I’ve always found you to be beautiful and I’m longing to tell you how I feel, but one day you find it and you have questions. With Stucky.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Other characters: Sam Wilson (mentioned), Tony Stark (mentioned), Peggy Carter (mentioned), Sharon Carter (mentioned), Brock Rumlow (mentioned), Winifred Barnes (mentioned), George Barnes (mentioned), Rebecca Barnes (mentioned), Margaret, Annie, Bart and the other students in Steve’s art class.

It was on days like these that Bucky resented everything. It was almost a year since the event that turned his life upside down and it still haunted him. On days like these, he cleaned the place excessively, trying to come to terms with himself. Bad days were few and far these days, but still often that they worried Steve to no end.

Steve was Bucky's best friend since childhood, and honestly Bucky couldn't even remember when they met first, only that when he set his eyes on the little blond ball of fury, Bucky knew that it was the right decision to stand up for him.

Last night he had a nightmare that Steve was the one that suffered in the mass shooting instead of Bucky but he died on scene. Bucky woke up to Steve yelling his name and trying to wipe the tears off Bucky's face. Bucky sobbed uncontrollably once he realized it was just a bad dream and that Steve was next to him, alive and well.

Steve decided that Bucky needed a day off work so he rang Tony who, besides his eccentric and obnoxious self, was understanding enough that he let ‘Buckaroo’ as he liked to call Bucky, have that day off and get well again.

Bucky fell asleep in Steve's embrace around 5 am and slept through the better part of the day. When he woke up, Steve was still there and only with Bucky insisting he go to class did Steve leave him alone.

Bucky cleaned the kitchen with such fierce determination that by the end of his cleaning spree there was not one thing that was out of the ordinary. He sighed.

Now what?

Bucky wished he didn't insist Steve going on with his life as normal today, because Bucky didn't dare admit to himself that he needed Steve at that moment. Plus if Steve was home, they'd probably binge watch one of those new TV shows on Netflix and eat pizza, and Bucky would drink cola while Steve would down a beer. It was probably just another excuse because Bucky was really hyped up on the new TV show they did on Ted Bundy. All of his friends teased him and acted like they were scared that Bucky would kill them in their sleep one day, because of his interest on serial killers. Steve blamed Bucky's propensity on catching the “Criminal Minds” fever back when they were still in high school. Now almost 10 years later, Bucky was still addicted to the show and it was one of his many escapes when things got rough. Bucky just liked to keep up to date with things.

With nothing else left to clean in the house, Bucky sat down on the couch and wrapped himself in his favorite blue fleece blanket. It was a gift from Steve for Christmas a few years back and it kept Bucky warm when he was cold and in all situations when Bucky was under the weather because of something else. Steve liked to call it the therapy blanket because Bucky often wrapped himself in it when one of his dates went bad.

Bucky counted the minutes till Steve was back home from his class. Despite his need for Steve, Bucky also knew that Steve lived for the 3 times a week he got to do what he actually loved the most, and that was teach people how to draw and paint and share the love for the art.

Steve was always enthusiastic about art. Ever since they were kids, Steve would always draw something for his mom or Bucky, left little doodles on the page margins in Bucky's notebooks, and when he was older he moved onto drawing and painting portraits. Bucky was the huge dork that still kept all his notebooks with Steve's doodles and drawings in it.

It was for a while that Steve hadn't drawn anything or if he did, Bucky didn’t see him doing it. Ever since Steve got the opportunity to teach art classes he seemed more engaged with his students and actually doing what he wanted to all these years, instead of working as a graphic designer in Tony's company, where Bucky also worked in as an engineer. That also meant he was busier than usual and probably didn't have much time for it. Bucky shouldn't have thought much on it but he missed Steve in his element.

Bucky was restless on the couch, nothing catching his eye long enough for him to calm down. He proceeded with cleaning his own room but even that didn't help. And then Bucky eyed Steve's bedroom.

And to those that knew Bucky, they also knew that once he set his eyes on something, it was hard to convince him not to do anything about it. The fact that they both had zero sense of personal space for the other was beyond question, although they both had things the other didn't know about.

Searching for a particular sketchbook that Bucky knew Steve kept on his desk next to the window, Bucky instead found another one of Steve’s sketchbooks that sat open on a particular page. Coming closer, Bucky could see the pencil that was discarded in a haste and the ugly line it left behind. He wondered what made Steve leave it like that and with a shocked gasp he realized Steve must have sketched when Bucky had his nightmare.

Instinctively Bucky picked the sketchbook and took it with him to the living room. Wrapping himself in the blanket again, he opened it on the first page.

And there it was: a drawing of him. Bucky.

Flipping through the rest of the pages, Bucky found numerous drawings of him in various states: Bucky smiling, Bucky laughing, Bucky sad, Bucky grumpy, you name it. Most of them were drawn while Bucky was sleeping on the couch, wrapped up like a burrito.

Bucky thought he should find it creepy, since he never thought Steve was drawing him specifically. Of course Steve did draw him once when he was younger, when he was perfecting his technique on portraits but Bucky thought that was about it.

What baffled Bucky the most was the love he could see bleeding on the pages. The softness of the moves with which Steve managed to capture him and how lifelike he looked. It had woken up something inside him that Bucky swore he'd keep buried for the rest of his days.

He was in love with Steve.

Bucky wasn’t sure when he fell for Steve. He came out as gay in high school and despite his great fear his parents would hate him or disown him, they were the total opposite of that. They accepted him and educated themselves on the topic.

After that his mom always wanted him to hook up with one of the sons of her friends and his father tried his best on giving him tips for how to woo his date (even though he wasn't sure those things would work same on men as on women). Becca was teasing him relentlessly and insisting that she'll be his best woman on his wedding with Steve, to which Bucky promptly choked on his coffee when it was brought up. She had no idea how much Bucky wanted that but when asked he always denied that there was something more between him and Steve. As far as Bucky knew, Steve loved him only as a friend. And Bucky couldn't risk his friendship with Steve with admitting his true feelings, and that he loved Steve with everything he got. That he felt unwanted whenever Steve had someone over, or that he was jealous whenever that someone kissed Steve. And the most embarrassing part of it all, what made Bucky feel disgusted and ashamed of himself was the numerous dates he had where he imagined Steve to be the one that fucked him hard or made slow love to him.

It was painful, but Bucky made do. He compromised with himself: it was better to have Steve as a best friend than not have Steve in his life at all. Bucky didn't want to confess his love to Steve so he'd be told Steve didn't love him back. Bucky was a realist and scared and no one could blame him for doing what he did all these years, and that was hiding how he truly felt for Steve. But it didn't hurt less when Steve told him he asked Peggy to be his girlfriend, nor when Steve started dating Peggy's cousin, Sharon, few months after Peggy and Steve split.

There was that one time when Bucky saw Steve flirting with Sam when they had their usual morning run. Steve was awkward and adorable and Sam put him out of his misery when he told Steve he already had a boyfriend. Bucky had to admit that meeting Sam was one of the good things that happened in his life because Sam helped him find a therapist when things got rough.

Seeing drawings of himself in Steve's sketchbook, Bucky wondered if it was possible for Steve to love him back? Was it possible for Steve to reciprocate on the love that destroyed Bucky slowly, but also kept him alive?

In hindsight, Bucky should have seen it years ago. It was everywhere and in every word Steve said and every thing Steve did. There was that one time when one of Bucky's coworkers outed him in front of the whole group and Bucky had to leave the company because of the harassment he received for his sexuality. Steve wanted to beat the living lights out of Reginald, but Bucky managed to prevent Steve from acting on his emotions.

From then on there were numerous situations where Steve acted protectively around Bucky, but Bucky chalked it up to friendship, because Steve was always like that with Bucky.

Steve couldn't have possibly felt the same for him, right?

Then there was Brock, Bucky's longest relationship up to date. They met shortly after Bucky started working in Stark Industries. They hit it off immediately and even though Bucky liked him enough to imagine a future with him, he knew Steve wasn't very supportive of their relationship. And with right, because Brock showed his true face once Bucky was involved in the mass shooting. Suddenly he wasn't good enough, he was too much to handle with his anxiety and nightmares, and then there was his left arm that lost almost 60% of mobility thanks to the bullet that caught Bucky in the shoulder. There was a whole list of issues that bothered Brock. Gone was the love and attention and promises.

Bucky could clearly remember Steve's reactions and how much he wanted to strangle Brock for what he did to Bucky. It took a while for Bucky to realize that Brock was wrong and that he wasn't a burden and it was okay to have PTSD and anxiety without having to be careful around people. Steve helped him in those tough days and it was then when they decided to share Steve's condo in Brooklyn. Steve was the perfect roommate and they knew each other for all their lives so the decision was mutual and what they both needed.

Looking at Steve's drawings again Bucky was reminded of all the times they nursed each other after a bad time in their lives, all the times they watched over the other when they were sick or a bad night. Because no matter what happened in their lives they always gravitated to each other. It was a given.

Bucky sighed, looking down at the sketchbook one more time before he closed it. He hugged it close to his chest and kept glancing at the clock on the wall and realized that Steve was due to come back from class any moment now. Bucky couldn't make himself return the sketchbook back to Steve's room. He was drained from his night and the realization he just had. It was best he waited for Steve so they could talk.

It was a can of worms he wasn't ready to open, but there was this determination that set itself in him and for once Bucky just wanted to get it all out, come hell or high waters. He'd deal with the consequences later.

Bucky sat himself comfortably on the couch and waited for Steve.

…

The familiar screech of the train tracks alerted Steve of the arrival of his metro line. Just one more thing and he'll be home and with Bucky. Steve beat himself over and over for leaving his best friend alone after a bad night, but Bucky insisted Steve go with his day normally. He shouldn't have listened to Bucky. It wasn't that he didn't trust Bucky with himself but Steve didn't want to leave him alone when he wasn't in his best mood.

Steve entered in the train and found a free seat. He pulled his headphones out of his pocket then put them in his ears and got lost in the moment for a bit. He just wanted time to go faster. It usually did when he was listening to music.

Steve's eyes wandered around the cart. An older couple was seated in the back with bunch of college kids. It made him smile because they reminded him of some of his art students. That in turn made him think of today's class.

…

(Flashback)

Steve sighed in frustration as the third attempt of drawing a simple fruit in class. He could feel his students’ eyes on him, and it made him even more nervous and prone on mistakes. Only the respect he had for his students stopped him from throwing the pencil out of the window.

“Are you okay Mr. Rogers?” Annie, one of the teenage girls in his class asked, seemingly worried.

And Steve didn't want to see that look on such a young face. He didn't like the fact that he caused someone else to worry about him, something about his best friend being always the worrywart. Steve hated the face Bucky always made when Steve was sick or did something stupid. Which was often.

Steve shook himself out of his thoughts, aware he zoned out.

“Yeah, uh, yeah… Just, I think it's not my day. I'm usually better at drawing a simple apple. Sorry.”

“No worries, Mr. Rogers. It happens.”

“I know, I know. Thank you for asking that, though. Don't think anyone else than Bucky has asked me that recently.” Steve replied without thinking.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bart, a grumpy 30 years old asked from the back of the classroom.

Steve looked at him, baffled, but he schooled his face quickly. Bart was a good hearted person so Steve didn't take it in a bad way.

“Bucky is my best friend. We know each other since childhood. And we live together.”

There was a chorus of “oooooh” from the class and Steve blushed. He was used to people mistaking him and Bucky for a couple enough, but it never ceased to elicit a reaction from him.

“It's not like that.” Steve spluttered. “He is my best friend. We are roommates. Nothing more.”

“Who said you were?” Margaret, the only student that had hit the 70s mark, queried and winked at Steve.

“I assumed… uh, never mind.” Steve scratched his neck and stood awkwardly in front of his class.

Margaret grinned conspiratorially and Steve could see her and Annie talk to each other. Those two were a menace.

“What's Bucky like?” someone from the back said, Steve couldn't remember his name. Was it Pietro?

It took Steve by surprise that someone would ask about Bucky, but it was a welcomed distraction so he decided to answer.

“He's the greatest. Always there for me. The best friend anyone could ask for.”

Steve then proceeded to tell them all about his best friend, how they met, and the adventures of their everyday life. What Steve wasn't aware was the way he was practically glowing when he talked about Bucky as Margaret was so kind to notice and voice it out loud.

“You certainly sound like you are very fond of him, dear.” Margaret piped in.

Steve blushed again and he had to grin.

“For not being a couple, you blush a lot, Mr. Rogers.” Annie helpfully added.

As if that was Steve's cue to turn in a tomato, he turned a darker shade of pink.

…

Not just that he managed to be productive and teach his class something useful, but Steve was also effectively distracted from thinking about Bucky and the way he looked last night - like death warmed over. He was reluctant to leave him alone today, but Bucky insisted. And nothing could deter Bucky from getting his way with things - which was useful for when Steve got himself in trouble. Bucky was still in the back of his mind the whole day.  

“So, that will be all for today.” Steve covered the sheet he was working on while turning around and addressing his class.

“Oh, but it's too early, Mr. Rogers.” one of the students whined.

“It's actually past the 90 minutes mark, Beth. Besides I have important matters to attend so if you don't mind…”

“It's Bucky, isn't it?” Margaret winked playfully.

“In a way. It's personal though, so I wouldn't want to share more info without his consent. But he had a bad night, and it took me a lot of convincing from him to appear today and not just cancel. So be happy I appeared at all.”

Margaret nodded at the explanation with a knowing glint in her eyes.

When the last of his students left the classroom Steve released a breath he didn't know he was holding. It was time to go home.

(End of flashback)

…

“Breaking inside” by Shakedown blasted in Steve's ears as he all but missed his stop. The song lyrics hit him right in the feels, the story behind the powerful text was hinting at his situation when Bucky was in question and for the first time in a while Steve didn't know how to bury the feelings back to where they were all this time.

Moving on autopilot the last three blocks that separated him from the subway to the condo he shared with Bucky, Steve turned in his head the moment he realized he was gone on Bucky forever.

They were in high school when Steve first realized he liked boys as much as girls. Or the exact moment that he started looking at Bucky with different eyes and suddenly he wasn't just his best friends. He tried quelling that feeling with dating Peggy and then her cousin Sharon, but that didn't help him at all. Steve liked Bucky still and he often caught himself thinking of spending time with Bucky while on dates with other people which wasn't fair for them. Hence why he always broke off things before feels got involved.

Steve still remembered Bucky's face when he flirted with Sam, like a man ready to have a heart attack. Steve chalked it up to Bucky being a jealous friend but looking at things in a new perspective, Steve asked himself, was it possible that Bucky felt the same for him?

There was something that shifted in the air but Steve chalked it up to the cold weather and the wind chill.

Then there was the shooting that changed Bucky's life and by default Steve's too. With Winnie and George being in Indiana, Bucky didn't want to impose on his sister and her family. Steve came up with the suggestion for them to start living together. It took him a while to convince Bucky, but when Steve suggested he either impose on Becca or come with him, Bucky caved in. In the last year Steve had to battle through days when Bucky didn't want to get out of bed and days where you couldn't contain him in one room because he was bored out of his mind. They visited Bucky's therapist together because Bucky was afraid that if he spoke about the event without Steve being present, something could happen to Steve.

Not many could understand Bucky and Steve would forever loathe the moment Bucky met Brock Rumlow and he became Bucky's boyfriend. That schmuck wasn't worth Bucky's love and time and he proved so by breaking up with Bucky shortly after he almost lost his life. Steve almost beat him up then, and only Bucky's pleading voice and the disheveled state he was in prevented Steve from sending Brock to the hospital. Bucky was too precious for Brock anyway. And in Steve's opinion if you love someone, you'll love them in any situation, and not only when they are healthy or working or something else entirely.

...

Passing by the bakery on the corner of the street, Steve saw Bucky's favorite plum tarts being displayed. Without much thought he entered and bought quite a few. He wanted to indulge Bucky, who could blame him?

He managed to wrangle his headphones in submission and put them away. He looked at the time and saw that it was just past 8 pm. He hoped Bucky was okay and that they'd have a nice night watching some movie on Netflix and literally chill.

Steve was careful in opening the door to his apartment because he didn't want to interrupt Bucky in case he was sleeping. And sure enough, Bucky was sprawled on the couch, covered in his favorite blanket, the one that he bought for Bucky for Christmas three years ago. The soft baby blue sweater that Bucky had put on was Steve’s and Steve felt warmth go through him at the sight. Bucky's hair was loose and splayed on the pillow. Overall Bucky looked so soft that Steve didn't want to wake him up at all. But then he saw the item Bucky held with one hand. It was one of his sketchbooks. That didn't surprise Steve because Bucky grounded himself often going through Steve's sketches. What made Steve release a surprised squeak was THE sketchbook that Bucky held in his hand. Specifically one he never wanted Bucky to find.

Steve drew ever since he could remember. It was just something that started as a hobby but it developed in a passion that moved steadily throughout his life and ended in Steve taking art school and later going to arts college which earned him a degree. Nowadays he worked as a graphic designer at Tony's company but secretly he still loved to draw. There was something about the paper and pencil combination that would never get old, Steve knew.

That didn’t bother him essentially, that Bucky would go through his sketchbook. But the one in question he kept hidden at all times for the reason that it was full of drawings from the person that was holding it now. It was part of series of sketchbooks Bucky gifted Steve for birthdays and Steve made a good use of them. But never showing the drawings to Bucky. Only the ones that everyone was allowed to see.

Steve didn't think Bucky would violate his privacy and search for that specific sketchbook but he needed answers before he said more that he should.

Bucky stirred on the bed and Steve had a split second to prepare himself before being assaulted by the softness in the pale blue eyes that looked at him.

Bucky was awake.

…

Bucky heard the soft click of the front door but he wasn't ready to open his eyes just yet. He just wanted to enjoy the warmth of his blanket, and how happy he was that Steve was home. He could hear Steve moving around until he stopped in front of the couch. He stood there for a while before squeaking and Bucky found it hard to pretend he was still sleeping when all he wanted was to laugh because Steve always claimed that he didn't squeak.

In the battle between Steve and his warm post-nap bubble, Steve won. Bucky opened his eyes and stared at Steve, assessing the look on Steve's face. It was a mix between soft, fond and panicked. For a moment Bucky wondered what happened to Steve but then he remembered the sketchbook in his lap.

Bucky blushed as he fumbled with the sketchbook and he shot upright in the couch, trying to detach himself of the blanket and make room for Steve.

Steve stood above him like someone slapped a bucket of hot water all over him. Or maybe a wet Golden Retriever puppy. Yep, that was it.

Bucky didn't realize he was grinning until Steve raised a questioning eyebrow and Bucky smiled fondly at him.

“It's just you look like an adorable puppy. Adorable Golden Retriever puppy. Wet puppy.”

Steve choked on his spit and looked incredulously at Bucky.

“I'm not a puppy.”

“Sure thing pal.”

An awkward silence stretched between them until Steve broke it.

“What are you doing with my sketchbook, Buck?”

Bucky's momentarily good mood evaporated in a second, a frown now on his face.

“I… I’m sorry. I was restless and didn't know what to do so I went to your room. I found this sketchbook on your desk. It was there and I took it. I wasn't snooping, I swear.”

Bucky was distressed and looked genuinely scared. That shook Steve out of his thoughts.

“Sorry… Sorry, Buck, it's just…” Steve took a deep breath. “Today was one of those days where nothing goes right.”

If possible, Bucky shrunk even more into the couch. Steve face palmed himself at the sight.

“Look, I screwed up. I remembered now that I left the sketchbook on my desk and it's not your fault, okay? Not your fault.”

Bucky nodded but didn't say anything. Steve sighed. It wasn't like he anticipated Bucky finding that sketchbook. And now…

Steve went to the kitchen and left the plum tarts on the counter. He washed his arms and then removed his coat and scarf. Going back to the living room he found Bucky sitting on the couch, knees drawn close to his chest and with an off look in his eyes.

“Are you okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively, sitting on the couch next to him.

Bucky looked at him with the look of a wounded animal and shook his head. Steve felt awful. He shouldn't have gone to class. He shouldn't have been harsh with Bucky about his sketches. He shouldn't-

“Steve- Stevie, it's okay. Just because I might not react in a certain way, doesn't make you guilty of something. Okay?”

Steve looked at his hands in his lap. He probably said all of that out loud.

“I want to ask you something. You may not answer if you don't want to but seeing those drawings you have of me in that sketchbook… made me think and well…” Bucky chuckled and put a strand of stray hair behind his ear, “I came to realize I might not have been good at hiding what I feel and wondered if you, um, if it's possible you feel the same as I?”

“What are you trying to say, Bucky?”

“The only time I remember you asked me to pose for you so you can draw me was when you were discovering and perfecting your technique. After that, I've seen thousands of your sketches, but not one of me. But I found your sketchbook today and I saw it almost filled with drawings from me. So, I have some questions.”

Steve didn't say anything, deciding he'd let Bucky say his mind first.

“I went through your drawings of me and… I've noticed that they are very realistic. What I'm saying, of course they are, they are drawn by you.” Bucky smiled and looked at Steve, “I could see the love and the affection, how you think of me and I guess I want to know… Is it possible- It's stupid.”

“What is it Buck? What's stupid?”

“It's stupid I got that only from a few drawings and…” Bucky threw his hands in the air and sighed in frustration.

“It's more than just few drawings, Bucky.”

Bucky could see Steve's cheeks pinked up and he wondered just how many drawings of himself were out there.

“I see. Okay, I'm just gonna go and say this… Why is it so tough? Oookay, there we go. I'm in love with you.”

Bucky waited for a reaction. And Steve took too long to say or even do something. Bucky took that as a sign that he screwed things up and he started getting up but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

“What makes you say that Buck?”

Bucky sat back down and looked at Steve. He wasn't yelled at and wasn't ordered to leave the apartment, yet, so that was a good thing, right? He just hoped he didn't ruin his friendship with Steve.

“It's in all you say. And do. And the drawings just helped me gather the courage to talk to you about it. I guess I just put my feelings in a box and locked them. Hoping they'd go away. But they didn't. They are real. I love you Steve. I'm in love with you.”

“Oh, Bucky… I love you so much. Loved you for so long. But I didn't think you could love me back. God, I got out of my mind with worry last year when you were hurt in that mass shooting. When I saw your face on national TV, the way you were frantically running to escape, something lodged deep inside my chest. It turns out I didn't have to worry and hold out on you for so long, but I was scared.”

“Our friendship is too precious for me. I didn't wanna lose it in case you didn't love me back. I don't think that there's anything more that will hurt me than not having you in my life, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Is this a proposal, James Buchanan Barnes?”

Steve winked playfully and grinned, the gloomy mood from earlier dissipating and his old self back on track. Bucky appreciated Steve and his way of making every situation better. And lighter. That's one of the numerous things about Steve that Bucky absolutely loved.

“It might be. With the way we are living together and we know each other our whole lives, it will only take me putting a ring on your finger to make it official.”

“Such a romantic, Buck.”

“Says the resident sap.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Steve's skin drummed with excitement.

“Yes. Like you have to ask now.”

Bucky smiled and puckered his lips.

The first touch of Steve's lips on his was soft and tender. Bucky didn't expect fireworks to go off or to see stars behind his eyelids but it was easily the best kiss he got to this day. Something uniquely Steve and full of love. It made him tingle and curve his lips in a smile. Steve pecked him again before moving back. As if pulled by a magnet, Bucky chased Steve's lips. This time the kissing became more heated and soon enough Bucky's tongue asked for entrance in Steve's mouth. Steve opened up and kissed as hard and greedy as Bucky, their lips dancing a sweet melody of two souls coming together at last.

“We were idiots, huh?” Bucky asked when he pulled off Steve and leaned his head on Steve's shoulder.

“Damn right we were.” Steve kissed Bucky's temple. “And oblivious too.”

“True that.”

“Although I don't know anymore. Two of my students today kind of pinned me in a corner and think they saw right through me when I mentioned you.”

“You talking about me in class, Rogers?”

Steve ducked his head and was faced with Bucky's smile.

“I might have mentioned you. A little bit. In passing.”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”

…

 6 months later

 Steve arrived a little bit early at the studio he held his classes in. Bucky was sitting in one of the chairs, looking at a catalogue with pictures of wedding cakes. He was engrossed in the content and it made Steve feel warmth pooling in his stomach at the sight of his now fiancé, being so at ease and looking like a soft teddy bear. Steve wanted to cuddle him.

He touched the ring that Bucky put on his finger a couple of weeks ago. The last 6 months were the best in Steve's life and in Bucky's too as he was reminded so of every day. Just waking up next to Bucky every morning was worth facing every obstacle life threw at him. And he was happy to see his students filter through the room and each take a seat.

Today he planned for them to practice their portrait skills and he had the excellent candidate in mind. Said candidate was grinning now, looking like the cat that ate the cream.  

“Okay, everyone, thank you for coming today. As you know this is one of our last classes and I decided all of us to do something fun today. I gave it a lot of thought. And came to a conclusion when remembering something Bucky said.”

The familiar chorus of “ooooh's” made Steve stop with what he was saying. With the corner of his eye he could see Bucky was blushing.

“Back when I wanted to perfect my technique when drawing portraits, I asked my best friend to pose for me. He agreed and that was the only official time he knew I drew him.”

Steve grinned as he saw Margaret and Annie whisper between themselves as always.

“Those drawings that I kept away was what brought us together, to admit our feelings and we are here today because of them, or what Bucky likes to say, what I do best.”

“I thought that was him.” Margaret said and Steve had a split second before he had to tap Bucky on the back because he choked on his water.

Margaret had such a dirty mind sometimes. Steve should've known.

“Sooo, how about we have my fiancé be your model today?”

The whole room whooped and cheered.

“I take that as a yes? Okay, good. I won't be showing you anything today but let you capture this beautiful man all by yourselves. I did that 10 years ago.”

“It was 12 actually.” Bucky piped in as he got up and moved to the center of the room.

Steve waited for him there. For a moment he forgot he had a room full of students in front of him and leaned to kiss Bucky.

There was a loud sound of “yessss” behind them and Steve detached himself from Bucky. Bucky in turn chuckled and turned around.

“Hi, guys. I'm Bucky Barnes, the luckiest guy in the world. And apparently your lab rat today.”

That made the class erupt in laughter. Steve noticed it was tactful by Bucky to make them laugh so they relax.

“Model, Bucky. Model.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, where do you want me?”

Steve prevented any dirty thought to prevail at that question and smiled fondly at the love of his life.

“Right where you are Buck.”

Right next to me.

...

A/N 2: If you’ve come to the end of this story and you figured it out, congratulations. I was inspired for the characters of Margaret and Annie by Political Animals, a tv show Seb’s played in. Margaret as in Margaret Barrish (TJ’s grandma) and Annie (Doug’s fiancé and then wife). Hope you liked it. Leave a comment if you like. I love getting feedback and see what people thought about the story.  

[arigathanksgozaimuch]

head to toe | lee taeyong.

genre: ten pounds of fluff. slightly suggestive?  character/s: taeyong x reader.  overview: you love each other from head to toe. literally. word count: 2971.

13. "Sorry I'm late." 28. "Drive safely." 99. "Be careful."

A IS FOR:

ankle

“C’mere.”

Taeyong’s voice pulls you out of your concentration. You look up from your laptop screen and scan the entire room until your eyes finally land on his figure. Calm and quiet, he’s sitting in front of his easel where a blank canvas is placed. Sunday nights mean the both of you catching up with the work you’ve put off over the weekend – you with your Film App paper, and him with his commissioned portrait.  

You stand up, dragging your chair with you to where he was. He hooks an arm around your ankles and lift them up to his lap. Being able to touch you and feel you near brings him a deep sense of comfort. And only then is he able to start his own work.

B IS FOR:

belly

You sit on the sofa and let out a loud sigh of relief. Nothing beats having a boyfriend who can cook – and cook deliciously, mind you. Taeyong wears a smug look on his face as he watches you. "Full?"

Still in the last few moments of food coma, you could only nod. And then, when his gaze is back on the TV, you pull your shirt up just enough to uncover your belly and take Taeyong's hand. He immediately glances at you as soon as his palm rests on the soft skin of your stomach.

"You feel this?" you ask. "It's our food baby."

He snorts. "Wow, what's its name?"

"Chicken-stir-fry Lee."

"I swear to God you're the weirdest thing ever," he says. But he squeezes your waist and pulls you into his side, anyway.

back

Irritated Doyoung is in the middle of his speech when a hand lands on the small of your back. "What did I miss?" Taeyong asks, stealing the glass of champagne from your hands and taking a sip himself.

"Not much." You see Doyoung catching sight of Taeyong, the supposedly man of the hour, amidst the crowd and grimacing. "Just your opening speech, is all."

The man beside you snickers. "He handled it well, anyhow."

"But I was anticipating seeing you talk about your work."

He looks at you from the corner of his eye and frowns. "I’m sorry I'm late."

You want to snap back at him but you don't have a chance to, because Doyoung is already marching over to where you and Taeyong were standing. He then thrusts the wireless microphone onto your boyfriend’s chest and drag him to the spotlight, much to your delight and Taeyong’s dismay.

C IS FOR:

chest

There is a certain kind of security to be felt when you’re caged in between Taeyong’s arms and your legs are all tangled up. You feel like everything can go wrong – you can fail your exam, get sick with the flu for days, lose all your hair, and even misplace your lucky pen – but still feel happy and content. Because nothing can make you unhappy. Not here. Not when you’re safely tucked under his chin and pressed oh so warmly against his chest.

E IS FOR:

eyebrow

“What happened to his eyebrows?” Taeyong’s sister asks you as you bond over cups of coffee. She chances upon her brother’s latest profile picture and tsks in disapproval at the sight of him with one of his eyebrows partly shaved.

You shrug. “I’m the one supposed to know him the best, but even I don’t know what goes through his head sometimes.”

“There, there,” she cooes. “He’s a lot to handle, isn’t he?”

“I’m just at that point where I’m glad his fingers and toes are still complete.”

You and his sister sigh in unison.

H IS FOR:

hand

Taeyong holds your hand tightly after he sits you down on the couch. His hands are hot and sweaty against yours.

"What's wrong?"

He sighs, avoiding your gaze. "I've been hiding something from you."

"What is it?" Immediately, you are on full alert. Whatever he's going to say, you already know it's not good. You begin to anticipate something bad, like he's killed someone and now he needs help hiding the body; something worse, like he's going to use you for his upcoming exhibit; the worst, like he's going to break up with you.

"I have chicks," he says, eyes quickly searching yours for a response. He doesn't know what he sees there. Disappointment? Betrayal? Fury?

"You mean... you've been cheating?"

"What?" Your boyfriend shifts in his seat more comfortably. "No! I meant chicks, as in baby chickens. I just didn't want to tell you because you said you didn't want pets, and they're not pets! I'm just keeping them for inspiration for my new exhibit." He picks at your fingernails as he spoke, fidgeting with your hands out of nervousness.

You exhale the breath you don't realize you've been holding. If you didn't love this guy, you probably would have punched him. He sometimes makes you nervous and panicky for no reason. "Okay. Okay, that's fine."

He clutches your hands to his chest as he too sighs in relief. "Okay, good."

"How did you bring them here without me noticing?"

"Oh, that was easy. I bought them as eggs and then incubated them under our bed. I kept a daily log of them in my phone and not in a notebook so you wouldn't be able to see. Everyday, when you leave, I check up on them and cuddle them one by one like a mother hen. And then, after weeks and weeks of just pure love and warmth, they started hatching. So now, I've eight baby chicks."

"Did you just say you incubated them under our bed?"

"Uh-huh."

"For weeks and weeks?"

"Yep."

"And now that they've hatched, where do you keep them, exactly?"

"Oh! The pet store where I bought them from said to put them somewhere with soil and proper ventilation, so I put them on your mini garden."

"Lee Taeyong!"

hair

"The hell is this?"

You grab a handful of your boyfriend's hair and frown. Taeyong being an artist has its fair share of crazies. But having been with him for years has made you immune to them, so seeing him now with electric blue hair isn't as surprising as his old "experiments". But seeing Yuta and Johnny with red and green hair respectively is nothing short of shocking.

"What, you like it?" Yuta asks, his bangs covering his eyes as he blowdries his hair.

"It's like a powerpuff convention I wasn't invited in."

"See, I told you she'd hate it." Johnny elbows Taeyong against the rib.

"Shut up, Buttercup."

J IS FOR:

jaw

“Yes, give it to me, baby!”

Your arms and legs are starting to hurt from the awkward positions you put yourself into, but the smile it brings to your boyfriend’s face makes it all worth it.

“Okay, I think that’s enough pictures, [Y/N],” Taeyong says as he walks towards you. He’s beginning to think that asking you to take his picture for his Facebook profile is a bad idea. You do have a slight tendency to go overboard. Because even as he’s fast approaching you, you still manage to capture him in a candid shot or two. He quickly removes the strap from your wrist and manages, with great difficulty, to retrieve the camera from your grip.

“Not yet, just a few more!” You let out a whine in protest, almost shoving the camera lens in his face to give him a lot of pictures to choose from. “Whoa, look at that jawline,” you exclaim to distract him, knowing full well that he takes so much pride in what he considers to be his best asset. “What a killer.”

Later on, he’s posting one as his new profile photo. Before he could even finish uploading it, Taeyong tosses you your own phone so you could be the first person to like it.

L IS FOR:

lips

You know you’re in for a wild night when your boyfriend wears his clip-on lip ring, with Taeyong knowing full well how the small piece of accessory makes you feel all sorts of things.

N IS FOR:

neck

"I don't see how–"

Taeyong shushes you before you could finish your sentence. "You won't be able to see it if you keep talking. Be quiet and just stare at it."

You do as you're told, but after a minute or so, you complain once again. "I still can't–"

"Any second now."

You purse your lips and swallow the complaints that bubble up your throat. Instead, you take a deep breath and really concentrate on the canvas that was in front of you. Besides the weird splash of colors that seemed unorganized and accidental, you focus on the black lines that curve fluidly across the plane. And just like that, it hits you.

"It's a bunny!" you exclaim, straightening your posture at the same time. Taeyong has insisted you look at the picture with your head tilted at exactly 45 degrees. Now your neck just hurts and you let out an involuntary yelp.

"Good job, baby," he praises, dropping a quick kiss on your forehead. He puts the canvas away and places a new one in front of you. "Now, this one you have to look at from the back like you're walking away and someone from behind you suddenly calls your name..."

"Taeyong!"

P IS FOR:

palm

You rest your chin over your palm as you watch Taeyong dote on Jisung, his latest intern.

“Why are you being so mean to him? It’s his first day,” you complain as soon as he leaves the intern to do his assigned task and goes to you. “On my first day here, I didn’t even do much.”

“Yeah, well, I was faking being strict on you because I liked you. But now, I have to be really strict,” he says in defense.

“Because you might end up liking the new interns too?”

He shakes his head and steals a peck from your lips. “Nope. I’m actually a very strict and uptight person. I’m just nice to you because I’m whipped.”

You laugh at his strange attempts at flirting. And you don’t understand if you find it funny because his advances come off as awkward or because no matter how strange it seems, his flirting still manages to make your heart flutter. “You drive me nuts, seriously.”

“I may drive you nuts, but at least I drive safely.” And then Taeyong winks with both of his eyes.

S IS FOR:

shoulder

Scrolling through Instagram on his phone, Taeyong drops his head on your lap. “Hey, you think my doodles are pretty, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“How come you never thought of having it tattooed on you?”

You frown. “Because it’s permanent?”

The word makes Taeyong sit up. “And we’re not?”

“Nope.”

Now it’s his turn to frown. He mulls over something for a while before speaking again. “Then let’s be permanent.”

“Like married?”

“Yeah,” he says, a small smile gracing his lips at the thought. “Like married.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance, when inwardly you were screaming. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Taeyong repeats. “I want my fleur de lis drawing inked on your shoulder.” As he spoke, he grabs ahold of the collar of your shirt and drags it sideways to expose more skin. And then he marks the spot where he wants you tattooed by leaving open-mouthed kisses on your skin.

T IS FOR:

tooth

Besides his genuine macabre style of painting, Taeyong is also known for his rather strange exhibitions.

“Are those—”

“Yes,” he cuts you off, urging you to move on to the rest of the artworks on the first day of your internship. But you choose to stand still and stare at the teeth scattered behind the glass display.

“Are they real?”

“Yes. Have you read the description?”

Your eyes dart away from the teeth and briefly shift to the justified paragraph printed on clean white paper just at the bottom of the display, but you don’t bother reading.

“Are they yours?”

Taeyong sighs. “Of course not. You know where I got them?”

“Where?”

“I pulled them out from the mouth of interns who ask too many questions.”

You don’t speak a word for the rest of your mini tour.

toes

“You call yourself an artist with this kind of work?”

You groan, taking the brush from your boyfriend’s grip. Sitting up, you fold your right knee up to your chest to inspect your foot. And, just as you expected, Taeyong has smudged the nail polish all over your toes.

“Well, I’m sorry the wand is too small!”

“Ugh.” You snatch the bottle from the table and work on your nails yourself. “I’m painting your toes in the same way you did mine and then we’ll see how you like it.”

tongue

Doyoung makes his usual round of the exhibit just before closing time. As usual on a Friday night, there are still several students taking notes, connoisseurs basking in the different sights, and just random visitors taking pictures. Nothing is out of place, he thinks, but he could only sigh when he catches sight of you and Taeyong by the corner. If he had a dollar for every time he catches the two of you with your tongues down each other’s throats, he would have been able to purchase an original Van Gogh by now.

thigh

Love means compromise. So on days you really need a dose of your boyfriend’s cuddles, he lets you sit on his thigh and hugs you with his left arm while working on a sketch with his other.

W IS FOR:

waist

“You nervous?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time, I promise,” Taeyong reassures with a smile. His hands find purchase in your waist before his fingers find each other and interlock behind you, keeping them in place. “Now, take a deep breath for me.”

You do as you’re told and exhale after a few seconds. His words don’t completely quell the nervousness within you, but they manage to calm you down a little. You’re now beginning to regret agreeing to holding your first exhibition in your boyfriend’s own place. But you realize it’s too late to back out now, because Taeyong is already ushering you towards the crowd. You see your family and friends, who all congratulate you for a job well done. You catch sight of your professors, whom you avoid on purpose for fear of a long, intellectual discussion about art theory. You also get to meet fellow artists, most of whom were invited by Taeyong himself.

Somewhere along the way, you lose your boyfriend in the crowd, but you let him be, not wanting to disappoint your guests by sticking to Taeyong’s side the entire time. However, when the crowd thins and your social skills get drained, you look for him first. And it isn’t that hard to look for a red-haired boy in a sea of brunettes.

As soon as you appear in front of him, he says, “I’m proud of you,” as if he has been practicing all night to say it and now that he has the chance to blurt it out, he does. You squeeze his hand and smile. After all, despite the countless criticisms and comments you’ve heard all night, Taeyong’s approval is the only thing that mattered.

wrist

Being an intern for Taeyong – the Lee Taeyong – is taking up all your patience, to say the least. Sure, you have been offered an internship by other artists, but Taeyong's studio was the nearest to where you live. Traveling back and forth daily for an ordinary university student like you is taxing and costly, so you decided to choose him over others. You're starting to rethink that decision now.

"Be careful!" he shouts at you for the hundredth time today. "That's an authentic Rothko you're holding, not some poster from a souvenir shop.”

You roll your eyes. Usually, it’s Doyoung, his curator and closest friend, who gives you tasks and assigns you work to do, but he has flown out of the country since the weekend, leaving you under the wing of the devil himself. Taeyong’s first job assignment for you is to clean up his studio. You think of it lightly at first, but later on realize he hasn’t cleaned the place ever since he has turned it into his workplace. Media of various kinds cling to his floor and easel like glue (you found some kind of blood-like substance that you didn’t bother asking about), and it has taken you almost three whole days to scrub them off completely.

Now he’s making you move all the paintings from his exhibition area to the storage room for some reason he isn’t telling you. As carefully as you can, you attempt to lift the painting higher as per your boss’ instruction. But with the day’s worth of carrying and transferring finally catching up to you, you stumble back, the painting in your hands becoming dangerously close to being damaged. So Taeyong comes to your rescue, catching your wrist just in time.

But this isn’t like what you see in romance movies or John Green novels where boy catches girl and they stare into each other’s eyes until they fall in love. Because Taeyong takes No. 15 from your grip and brings it to storage himself. The painting is saved, but you never hear the last of it, because he scolds and nags your ears off and leaves you standing in the middle of his studio feeling like the worst intern ever. You cry about it to Doyoung over the phone, but he still says he ships the two of you together.

“Oh, please.” You scoff. “I will never fall in love with someone like him.”

But boy are you wrong.

Send me an idol and a number!

Masterlist

[michael-hearteyes-wheeler]

Movie Night

Hey Everyone! So this is the first oneshot of my new series. Its all based on an au where The Losers Club and The Party are childhood friends. Its going to be sweet and sappy, and explore the hilarity that would come from having all thirteen of these teens living in one town (and more or less all living at the Byers house).

Hope you Enjoy! And Check out @losers-party​ for headcanons based on this verse. (Read on AO3)

“Are you sure we can trust you with this?” Stan crosses his arms, looking down his nose at Richie.

When the prospect of a movie night was suggested, the entire Byers home excitedly debated potential films and genres. After much bickering, Richie ‘graciously’ offered to walk to the blockbuster himself. It seemed like a good idea, but Stan was unconvinced of his motives being pure.

“Aw come now Stanley! I'll make sure to pick something brilliant.” Richie, chuckling through his famous british guy and winking.

“Ugh I'll go with him.” Max groaned, rolling off of the couch.

“So that you can get some cheesy gore fest? No thanks. I'll go.” Mike W sighed, rising from the floor next to El and Will.

“Why don't you all just go.” Joyce offered, emerging from the kitchen with a smile that said ‘its not an option’. Mike and Max shrugged, and joined Richie on the lawn.

It was the perfect day for a walk, so no one bothered to grab their wheels. Even Max left her board at home. The blockbuster hadn't been open long, but the kids frequented it enough to know the best shortcut, and for the bored store clerk to know them by name. Mike debated between The Goonies, and The Breakfast Club for awhile before getting both. Max slipped in line behind him and cleverly hid the title of the undoubtedly horrifying movie she picked. The two of them waited outside, taking in the afternoon sun, waiting for a suspiciously long time for Richie to finish finding his movie. It probably was for the best that he didn't go alone, because when asked, he only smirked in reply and clutched the black plastic bag tighter to his chest.

Back at the house, Dustin and Ben were back from their own trip to the supermarket for snacks. Dozens of boxes of candy, bottles of soda, and cookies from the bakery lined almost the entirety of the Byers kitchen counters. The smell of burnt popcorn seeped out from the open windows and filled the yard at they walked up the dirt driveway.

After some bickering over who got which box of candy, who got to take the couch, and who got to sit where, it was almost sunset. Max and Richie whispered and giggled with one another as they hid there vhs tapes, and squeezed into the weathered armchair.

Mike W ignored them and decided to play The Goonies first. It was one they had rented before, but the magic of the film, and the inspiring group of kid characters was all too familiar. It felt like a life each of them had lived.

Mike W, El, and Will crowded the couch next to Joyce. Dustin emerged from the kitchen with the last of the bowls of popcorn and found an open place on the floor next to Lucas and Ben. The coffee table had been pushed against the far wall long ago, leaving room for the tangle of blankets and pillows that seemed to permanently litter the living room floor. Thirteen teenagers crammed together, eyes transfixed by the movie on screen, laughing at jokes they had heard dozens of times before.

Stan and Mike H held hands under a warm blanket. Bill doodled absentmindedly in a sketchbook while Bev leaned her head on his shoulder. Dustin and Lucas tossed popcorn back and forth before Hoppers booming voice filled the room.

“Hey, if you are going to have a food fight then you need to actually clean it up.” The police chief got home just as the credits began to role for the first movie, and an inky blue night sky settled outside.

“Oh like you didn't start the last one.” Bev teased, turning to look up at him.

“And I won too.” Jim winked, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss Joyce's head and ruffle El’s. All he had to do was snap at the giggling kids in his chair to send them to the floor. “What’s playing next?”

“I grabbed The Breakfast Club.” Mike stood to change the tape, stepping in between the unoccupied spots on the floor.

“Actually, now that it's dark, I thought we could watch something a bit more... thrilling.” Max smirked, unearthing her secret movie pick. Dr. Terrors House of Horrors. A horribly dated looking and well loved box cover depicting the classic style of 1960’s horror.

“God Max! I knew you would pick something messed up!” Mike sighed, but reluctantly let her play the movie. He could see where this was going, so he pulled Will’s hand and dragged the smaller boy into the dining room. Neither being a big fan of horror, whenever Max got her way they would settle for finding something else to occupy their time.

As the sounds of sweeping orchestral music played from the tv set, Mike grabbed the scrabble set from the shelf. Everytime a shriek from on screen made the smaller boy flinch, Mike would grab his hand or make him laugh by placing down a ridiculous word. Mike was no scrabble champ, at least not compared to Stan or Max, but he was good enough to keep Will’s attention away from the gore on screen.

After the first act, Stan and Mike H joined them at the table. Stan looked practically woozy from scenes that were making Max and Richie cackle with delight. It didn't take long for him to get in the zone however. Playing words like ‘Foliage’, ‘Oxazepam’, and ‘Philanthropist’. They had an unspoken rule to not even bother keeping score if Stan was playing (although he kept his own score in his head). One round turned to three, and then five, and then they lost count. Giggling and sipping sodas and ignoring whatever was happening in the living room.

Eventually the numbers in the living room dwindled. Ben and Bev decided to leave to one of the back rooms when they had been aggressively shushed for the last time. Bev thumbed through a magazine while Ben put his New Kids on the Block tape in Jonathan’s old boombox.

Eventually Lucas joined them too. Not even lying shoulder to shoulder in between Max and Dustin could save him from the headache all the screaming was causing. Lucas really enjoyed spending time with this quiet couple. Lucas curls up at the foot of the bed and flips through a stack of comic books, making sure to share his favorite panels with the other two. Ben has his nose buried in a journal. He keeps sneaking glances up at the other two on the bed, and Bev takes notice. Part of her wonders if he is writing another poem, and the way he curls the edge of the journal up to block her view, she thinks he might be. She blushes at the thought.

Some point later they can hear the stomping of a sleepy Hopper make his way to bed. As well as the giddy laughter of the board game turning into more of a ‘lets see how ridiculous of a sentence i can make’ game when Bill and Dustin join the table.

That leaves only Richie, Eddie, El, Max, and Joyce in the living room. Eddie fell asleep some time during the beginning of the movie. Richie runs a lazy hand through his hair while his eyes stay glued on the screen. Joyce smiles out at the group of kids in the dining room, and silently wishes Jonathan could be here too, as well as those two terrific partners of his.

Stan and Mike H get up to get ready for bed after Stan realizes his nightly routines have run a few minutes behind. Not long after, a sleepy Will shuffles back to his room as well, followed slowly by the others one by one. Mike W collects El from the couch and walks with her to Will’s room that has more or less become a community slumber party room.

Mike H comes back out and scoops up Eddie, carrying him to his sleeping bag with a smile. The chatter in the house quiets to only a few hushed whispers as one by one the kids drift off to sleep.

Once the movie ends, Max drags herself to curl up in between Bev and Lucas on the small bed, certainly only meant for one person.

“Are you tired?” Joyce smiles down at Richie, the only person left on the mass of blankets in the darkened room.

“Not really. You up for one more movie?” He swaps out Max’s tape for his own and Joyce nods.

“What do you have in store?” Joyce smirks. It has become a secret tradition between the two near-insomniacs. Richie makes a game out of finding the strangest movies in the ‘foreign’ section. Whatever has the most interesting box art, or the most obscure description.

“It's called ‘The Holy Mountain’. Its spanish, from 72, but the back said that it isn't for the faint of heart. I figured we could handle it.” Richie took his seat next to Joyce on the couch and let the film play.

Usually Richie feels the need to make jokes during movie night (much to everyone's chagrin), but that need is never present with Joyce. Her unceasing understanding and patience. It's like she just gets him, no strings attached.

Inevitably, the droll of spanish lulls him to sleep. Slumping against the arm of the couch with his glasses falling crooked. He never remembers it, but he always wakes up in his sleeping bag next to Eddie.

Movie nights don't get to happen as often as they all might like. Given their various schedules and after school activities, but it's always a reminder of what they are. A family. Strange and often chaotic, but full of love and acceptance.

[baby-blossoms]

The Tree

Evan Hansen x Reader

Warnings: Reader is not specifically a boy or girl. Alana x Zoe is canon in this. Unedited and written nonstop from 9:00 pm to 3:00 am and I think that should be a warning in itself, Evan’s suicide attempt mentioned, some light cursing, nothing else I think, but tell me if you find anything that should be in the warning section

Character Count: 23,868

Summary: Evan Hansen Soulmate AU where you can feel the physical pain your soulmate feels, and you have a small tattoo on your wrist of what your soulmate is currently most passionate about. You just moved into town and its basically your first day of senior year and you meet Evan, your soulmate, yay! It also has a really flufftastic cheesy ending so don’t read it if you’re not into that, my friend.

   A little tree... A little oak tree to be specific. You’ve had a little oak tree on your wrist for the past eight years. Before an oak tree it was a music note, before that it was ice cream, and even before that it was many little kid things, like trucks and airplanes and dinosaurs. But apparently your soulmate was dead set on trees. Your mom had long since explained to you why a damn ice cream cone was on your wrist for months, and apparently it was what your soulmate was most passionate about, she also explained why you’d have sudden waves of pain, and why you sat sobbing in the middle of a park, clutching your arm a few months ago. Soulmates feel each others pain, nothing else, just pain, because the universe was a cruel and strange place.

 You often sat and wondered what your soulmate had on his wrist, you were passionate about a lot of things, so maybe it just rapidly changed every couple of days. You wondered how they felt about that, maybe they thought you were too indecisive, or maybe they thought it was funny… You had kept a journal of everything your soulmate was most passionate about since you could remember, you wondered if they did the same. You wondered about them a lot, you could probably write a list of all the things you wondered about them through the years alongside their passions.

 “Y/N!”

You were abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by your mom quickly shoving the last box from the U-Haul into your arms, casting you an annoyed glace.

  “Yeah, sorry mom.” You mumbled, trudging to your room upstairs, and dropping the box unceremoniously on the hardwood floor.

  Flopping down onto your unmade bed, you groaned, holding your head in your hands as you peered at all the boxes you had to unpack. Moving to Pennsylvania (A/N: oh gosh I have no idea where DEH takes place so I just picked the first state with beautiful trees that came to mind) was stupid, starting a new school was stupid, life was just stupid right now. The only bright side to this dumb move is that your dad got a raise along with it.  

 Grumbling to yourself, you took the nearest scissors, opening the first box of many to unpack. After about five unpacked boxes you looked at your large handwriting on the side of each box, every single one was labeled “Y/N’s stuff” which was not helpful in the slightest if you were trying to find something specific. You sighed heavily, annoyed at your past self. You angrily took a bite of the slice of pizza your mom had delivered to you around the middle of unpacking box number four. She had then delivered the delightful news that she was taking you to register for your new school the next day at seven in the damn morning. You weren’t elated to say the least. After days of driving across the freaking US, you weren’t keen on going right back to school and you had hoped she’d maybe give you a few days to adjust. You should’ve known, that was nothing like your mother.

  Heavily sighing to yourself you set up your bathroom so you could take a shower before you had to sleep. Unfortunately, setting up said bathroom proved to be a hell of a lot harder than you had thought it would be. Finding the shower curtain was an adventure, but finding your suitcase under the pile of random things you had created by unpacking proved to be an intense workout session. Sweat was nearly dripping off your face when you finally struggled the heavy suitcase out from under a major pile of art supplies and an old karaoke machine that you had yet to assemble and couldn’t fathom why you still had.

   Finally taking a proper shower in your new house was a paradise compared to the low pressure odd smelling showers you had seen throughout the trip. The Kansas hotel was probably the worst, and you shuddered just thinking of it. After your shower you looked around your room, frowning at how bare and bland the walls were. You hung about every single one of your paintings on the walls, grinning to yourself at the intense barrage of colors anyone would get when entering your room.

 The next morning you threw on a dark green baggy sweatshirt that you practically drowned in, it was old and worn out, and the small tree printed on the front was slowly fading away. You had bought the sweatshirt because it was soft and the tree reminded you of your soulmate, which never failed to make you smile. Plus, it was one of the only things you owned that wasn’t paint splattered, seeing as you were passionate about painting, once you got into one of your paintings you didn’t really care about the mess, resulting in endless angry sighs from your mother as she tried to scrub the already dried paint away. Quickly you shoved on a pair of jeans, which of course were covered in multiple shades of green paint, because even if your clothes were messy, worn, and covered in paint, you still liked to match.

    Soon you were off to your new school, and you couldn’t find an ounce of enthusiasm about it. Trudging into the office, you caught a glimpse of a group of kids staring at you intently, your eyebrows furrowed as you blushed and quickly turned away, trying to keep up with your mom.

  After a short and very boring meeting, you finally tuned in when the counselor said,

  “Well it’s her first day with us, and our first class is advisory,” she checked the clock, “and it’s just going to end, so I can go ahead and give her a schedule right now and send her with a buddy so she can see all her classes today if you want!” you were seconds away from protesting when your mom quickly said,

“Oh, Y/N would love that, wouldn’t you, sweetie? I’ll pick you up after school at 3:05, I love you honey!”

she was practically pulling out of the school parking lot by the time you had processed everything she said.

“Um,” you glanced at the counselor, who was smiling sweetly at you, “well, thank you...”

  You cringed, not knowing what to say. She simply nodded, printing out your schedule and calling in a “reliable” student. A girl you assumed was also a senior practically floated into the room a few minutes later, she smiled at you kindly, thrusting her hand out for you to shake. You noticed she had what looked to be an ‘A+’ for a soulmate marking. Grinning, you knew instinctively that she was definitely not your soulmate.

“Hi, I’m Alana, and welcome to your new wonderful High School! I’ll be sort of ghosting around you today to make sure you get to all your classes on schedule and don’t get lost!”

Her beaming smile was almost blinding, and you shot back a crooked grin, introduced yourself in return.

 Alana practically dragged you down the hallway to your first class of the day. She sucked in a bit of air through her teeth,

  “Unfortunately for you, Y/N, you’ll be sharing this class with Jared Kleinman, and Connor Murphy.” A small smile tugged at her cheeks when she said softly, “On the bright side you’ll be sharing it with Zoe Murphy,” you watched her eyes flicker to her wrist for a short moment. “Connor is her brother, and I’m in this class too, so you won’t have to worry about a place to sit!”

You both paused outside of the classroom as you analyzed her face for a moment,

 “You were staring at me earlier weren’t you?”

Her smile turned slightly bashful as she said,

“Yeah, sorry about that, Evan pointed out your hoodie so we all looked at the same time, that must’ve been weird for you.”

You laughed lightly as you shook your head,

“No, that’s okay, it was just surprising.”

   Alana nodded, opening the door to the classroom quietly. What you thought was going to be a nice and quiet entrance was abruptly ruined when Alana bounded into the room, dragging you along while calling out to the teacher,

 “Sorry we were late, Mr. Destler! This is a Y/N, she’s new to the school, and transferred here from California!” the teacher glowered at her for a moment for interrupting his class, then nodded his head at you in greeting, and continued his lesson. Your face must’ve been bright red as Alana lead you to her group, a girl with a kind smile, light brown hair, and a floral dress caught your attention first. Mainly because said girl beamed at Alana as soon as she saw her.

    Alana took the empty seat beside her, and to her left sat a scowling boy with longer dark hair, he glanced toward you with indifference for a moment before going back to mindlessly doodling in his notebook. You sighed softly as you sat down at the opposite side of the table, next to a paler boy with glasses and a wide grin.

“I’m the insanely cool Jared Kleinman.”

You quirked an eyebrow before muttering,

“What a title. I’m Y/N.”

His grin faltered for a moment at your less that enthusiastic greeting, but he smiled again as he asked,

“Yeah I heard when Alana dragged you in. So it’s just Y/N? No last name?”

  You sighed quietly as you whispered your full name, quickly pulling out your sketchbook as Jared took it upon himself to introduce the rest of the group.

“Well Hot Topic over there is Connor Murphy, and part two of the lovebird extravaganza is Zoe Murphy, his sister. You’ve obviously met Alana, so you should know by now they’re soulmates.”

 You chuckled softly as you glanced up to see them whispering and smiling to each other.

“I guess they’re lucky they met so young.”

   You said absentmindedly as you pulled out your colored pencils. Deciding to add to your nature page, you started a sketch of a cherry blossom tree, the page already crowded with them.

 “So, you like trees? I have a friend you might get along with.”

Jared said, his voice betraying his boredom with the subject. You chewed your lip thoughtfully for a moment before quickly whispering,

 “I like to paint, draw, and look at nature. I don’t love interacting with it too much.” Shrugging, you continued, “My soulmate likes oak trees, so I guess I do too by default.”

You held out your wrist for Jared to see, then flipped through your sketchbook.

“Well, we can get that right off the table then, we’re definitely not soulmates.”

You snorted a soft laugh as you started a new sketch of a cat.

  “So what’s your soulmate into then, Jared?”

  You glanced up to find him grinning ever so softly as he showed you his wrist proudly. A small video game controller was printed onto it. You glanced at the boy across from you, Connor as he scoffed, glowering at you and Jared.

“Can people survive ten minutes without droning on about their soulmates? We get it, everyone has one, you’re not special.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you shot back,

“Oh sorry, we were just trying to have some conversation, what would you like to talk about, Edgelord? How about you feeling high and mighty because you’re not into soulmates, when really; you’re not special.”

 Your eyes narrowed as he avoided eye contact. Finally, he sighed in defeat and held out his wrist for you to see a small bunny printed on it. You couldn’t help but smile at Connor as a small laugh escaped your lips.

 “Now, that’s adorable.”

  You could see Connor visibly biting back a smile as he lowered his wrist and continued to sketch. The rest of the period was filled with Mr. Destler’s lessons on vocal chords, and Alana and Zoe’s giggles and side remarks.

   You furrowed your eyebrows as you peered at your schedule when the bell rang, your next period was art 4, but the class after that had you confused.

 “Alana, I think there’s a mistake, I never signed up for Gardening.”

Alana nodded in sympathy,

 “Yeah, you probably requested a class that’s too full, like pottery or oil painting, they put you into the least full elective as a default. Hey, on the bright side I’m pretty sure there’s only one other kid in that class with you.” She frowned thoughtfully for a moment, “On the down side he loves that class the most because he’s surrounded by nature and no one is there to bother him… Evan has really bad anxiety, so just… I don’t know, don’t think he’s weird or anything, he’ll eventually warm up to you and it’ll be easier for him to talk to you.”

You nodded for a moment before asking,

“Is the gardening teacher there too, or?”

Alana laughed,

 “You’ll soon see how small our school is, Y/N. The Gardening teacher, she teaches Girls Soccer and got stuck teaching that class. She hates it and usually finds an excuse to get out of there. Poor Evan is too scared to say anything, so you’ll most likely be alone with him every other day during third.”

     You laughed along with her as you walked to your next class along side Connor, who apparently also really loves art. During your art period with him and Alana you learned that Connor was also very talented with copic markers and digital art. You couldn’t help but be slightly jealous, as you had tried digital art for months on end to no avail. Normal pencil sketches or acrylic paints were more your line of expertise. Connor promised to teach you little tricks and tips with digital art if you promised to do the same with acrylic paints. You practically threw yourself across the table to hug him and quickly agreed.

 After art Alana led you outside to a beautiful greenhouse filled with thriving plants, all different types of flowers surrounded you as you walked around in awe.

You spun around abruptly as you heard a quiet voice,

  “Alana? What are you doing in the greenhouse, I mean, not that I mind, I just thought you have AP Physics right now with Zoe…”

You peeked your head around a rather large Hibiscus bush, and waved shyly to who you assumed was Evan. His eyes grew wide and his cheeks reddened as he hesitantly waved back.

  “Evan, this is Y/N! She transferred here from California and is in this class with you. Cool, right?”

Alana grinned at you, and Evan replied a few seconds later,

“Oh, yeah… that- that is really, um, cool.”

You turned to keep analyzing the flowers, holding back laughter at his less than honest response. You smiled at his attempt at being polite nonetheless.

 “Okay I know this is a really bad time to legitimately turn into a ghost, but I have a test in physics right now and I really can’t afford to miss it. I’ll come back at the end of the period, but meanwhile you two get to know each other! Have fun and do some, um…” she paused for a moment before weakly cheering out, “do some gardening!”

 You smiled at her as she bolted out of the greenhouse, trying to make it to physics before the bell rang. A tree sapling caught your attention, two bags of mulch lay beside it, and it desperately needed replanting. Without thinking, you strolled over to it and read the label, it was a Scarlet Oak Tree. You smiled softly to yourself,

 “Scarlet Oak, my second favorite.”

You jumped slightly when you heard Evan behind you, closer than you thought, asking,

 “You have a favorite tree?”

Your face flushed as you turned to look at him, getting up, you brushing yourself off and grinned at him.

“Yeah, I really love Cherry Blossom trees.” You rubbed the back of your neck as Evan quickly responded,

 “Oh, that probably sounded like I thought you were weird or something- which I don’t! I have a favorite tree too, it was just pleasantly surprising to find someone else who, um… you know... also has a favorite tree…”

He trailed off, his eyes darting away from yours as he played with the hem of his shirt. You seemed only notice his cast right then, and was pushed back into the memory of sitting in the middle of the park crying over your arm.

  “Your arm.”

You stated dumbly. Evan jumped ever so slightly, like he didn’t expect you to talk to him again, he raised his casted arm, nodding.

“Um, yeah, its broken.” He blinked hard, his face tinting red, “That’s probably why you pointed it out though, cause you can see that it’s broken.”

You nodded slightly,

   “Sorry, it just…” you shook your head, “Never mind.”

You didn’t want to just outright say, hey are you my soulmate? Cause that’s weird, right? I mean hundreds of people must break their arm every day.

“Oh, did your soulmate break their arm?” Evan’s eyes widened, apparently he didn’t realize he had said it out loud until it was too late, “oh, sorry forget that- wow that was weird, I shouldn’t have brought it up because that’s such an awkward thing to bring up! Soulmates, I mean, obviously not breaking arms.”

  You smiled softly at him, picking up the sapling as you started to walk toward the doors.

“That’s okay Evan,” you assured, “I don’t know my soulmate, so I don’t really know. I just felt a lot of pain in my arm a few months ago.”

Evan nodded as he followed you,

  “Oh okay, that’s cool… I mean not the arm breaking pain part or the not knowing your soulmate- I guess its not really cool actually.”

You laughed, glancing back at him as you set down the sapling in what you deemed to be the perfect place to plant it.

 “I guess not. So how did you, you know, break your arm?”

His eyes darted down to his arm, then to the ground.

 “I was climbing a tree this summer, and I kind of… fell.”

You tilted your head, an eyebrow raised.

“How do you kind of fall?”

You asked, and poor Evan’s cheeks grew even more red, his eyebrows furrowed as he replied.

“Oh, well I stepped on a branch that I thought could hold my weight but, well, it couldn’t.”

You grinned slightly at that, finishing up planting the sapling.

 “Well, I’m sorry you fell out of a tree, Evan, it doesn’t sound fun. I know if it hurt as much as my wrist did when my soulmate broke their arm, then it not only doesn’t sound fun, but it is indeed not fun.”

Evan smiled shyly,

“No, it really wasn’t fun.”

You wiped the dirt off your hands, holding one out for Evan to shake. He stared at it for a moment before processing what you wanted. He let out a soft ‘Oh!’ then wiping his hand nervously on his khakis. He shook your hand gently and smiled at you.

   “It’s nice to formally meet you, Evan! I’m Y/N Y/L/N, and I love painting and autumn.”

You glanced down at his wrist out of instinct and did a double take when you saw a small print of one of the favorite paintings you’ve ever made, half-finished on his wrist. You recoiled, your eyes probably as wide as saucers, you didn’t know you were going to meet your soulmate today. You thought you would meet him in your twenties or early thirties like most everyone else. You weren’t prepared and didn’t know how to react to meeting him now. Your stomach twisted into a knot as he gazed wide eyed at you,

 “Did- did I do something?”

You quickly shook your head,

 “No, you’re... you’re totally fine, Evan.”

 When you heard the bell ring in the distance, it jolted you into motion, and you briskly walked away.

  “Y/N?”

He called weakly after you, but you were already halfway through the doors, practically sprinting down the hallway. You frantically searched for Alana, or Jared, just anyone you knew.

 “Hey, Y/N, what’s the rush?” Jared called from behind you. “You look like you just saw Freddy Krueger walk out of your daydream.”

Jared smirked at you as you practically smacked into him.

  “Oh my god, thank god I found you Jared, I just had- I… just take me to my next class, please.”

You sighed in defeat, not knowing how to feel or what to say as Jared looked over your schedule.

“Oh okay, cool, you have next period with me! What did you lose Alana in your sonic dash?”

  You shook your head,

“It’s a long story, believe me.”

It wasn’t a long story, really. Evan was your soulmate and you found out last period, and you were so scared that you practically ran away from him before he could know any better. It was that easy to say, but you were too ashamed of your reaction to admit the truth. Now what were you to do? You lost Alana, and Evan, your soulmate, probably thinks you’re a psychopath... Did you mention the part where your soulmate probably thinks you’re a psychopath?

  Arriving at your next class, you breathed a sigh of relief. Environmental Science, now that should be a breeze. You nearly screamed when Alana abruptly grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, frowning in a mom friend type of manner.

“You couldn’t wait for me? Evan was practically having an anxiety attack trying to figure out what he did wrong. I told you to go easy on him, didn’t I? Gosh, it’s a good thing I printed out a second copy of your schedule just in case something like this happened.”

She sighed, briefly waving the copy of your own schedule at you before continuing.

“Anyway, let’s go in, you’ll sit with Jared and Evan this period, I assume?”

Your heart must have stopped beating.

“Evan?”

You felt all color drain from your face, and Alana arched an eyebrow,

  “Seriously, Y/N, what happened last period? You’re acting like he threatened to burn down your house or something.”

You shook your head, gluing your eyes to the floor as you stumbled into class after Alana. The period was long and painful, mostly consisting of you and Evan catching each other staring and cringing, both your faces beet red, while Jared and Alana both witnessed this. They looked to each every so often, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

 When lunch finally came around, you decided to go see how the sapling was doing instead of sitting with your new friends. You didn’t want to explain why you couldn’t stand to make eye contact with Evan for more than two seconds without shrinking into yourself.

  “Y/N?”

This time you did scream in surprise when you were abruptly turned around by Alana. You were met with Zoe, Jared, Connor, and Alana all staring at you, Evan lingered n the back, looking at anything but you.

“We want to know what’s going on. You were totally fine with us until you met Evan and now you won’t talk to any of us.”

You glanced around, trying to calculate the fastest escape route.

“Don’t even try it, I have much longer legs than you.”

Connor grumbled, noticing your darting eyes.

 “Well, I…”

You cringed, your face bright red as you ranted out.

“Evan and I are soulmates, and I didn’t expect to meet him for at least five more years so I wasn’t ready today. I kind of panicked, and now I’m scared he thinks I’m a freak, so I kind of just avoided you all because with you comes Evan and…”

You blinked a few times, looking at all their shocked faces.

“W-We’re soulmates?”

Evans eyes were wide, tears making his eyes glisten as he stared at you, taking in every feature of the person he was destined to be with.

“Your wrist print is one of my paintings.”

You laughed, almost in disbelief as you both held out your wrists for the other to see.

 “Holy shit.”

Connor mumbled.

 “Fucking called it.”

Jared said smugly.

“Come on, lets give them some privacy.”

Alana beamed at Zoe, probably thinking about how they met only last year. As soon as they were gone, you tackled Evan in a hug. He fell to the ground with a thump, and slowly hugged you back.

 “I’m sorry… I just didn’t know how to react, I didn’t know you were going to be so beautiful and I felt so many emotions that I haven’t before. I didn’t know what to do so I just...”

Evan cut you off as he whispered in awe,

“Can… can I kiss you?”

His face was red and blotchy, tears still sparkling in his eyes when you finally broke too, bursting into tears and nodding, kissing him softly. You pulled away from the kiss a short while later, holding each other as you finally whispered,

“I was so excited to meet you, I kept a journal of every single passion that appeared on my wrist.”

Evan replied by practically sobbing. You slowly wiped away his tears, and kissed his cheek, helping him calm down.

“What’s wrong, Evan?”

He finally managed to respond after a few minutes.

“I lied.”

You shook your head in confusion,

  “About what?”

“I didn’t fall out of the tree, Y/N. I climbed to the top of the highest tree I could find and let go.” He paused, watching your reaction, “I never thought I would be good enough, I didn’t think I deserved a soulmate, I was so scared you wouldn’t like me, I never thought you would care so much.”

This time it was your turn to cry again as you hugged him tighter than you’d ever held anyone in your life. You promised him you would never stop caring, and that you would never stop loving him, he didn’t need to change for you.

 “I love you Evan Hansen, because you are you, and for me that will always be enough.”

--

@courfeyracs-swordcane

(A/N: oops thats a cheesy ending sorry its 3 am and i want to sleep at least i didnt kill him off lol)

[idonotknowhowtoo-blog]

How To Write A Book Evaluation

Everybody's got an opinion, so what comes next? We dig into the procedure of how to compose a book evaluation.

How to Write a Book Evaluation

Review pages have been a staple of publications and papers considering that the first time someone wondered, "is it any excellent?"

Thousands of reviews, in print and online, are published every day and devoured by entertainment-seekers keen to find and compare the current and biggest-- and likewise often the worstest-- tidbits of media out there.

Examining can be a quite enjoyable gig: you can get brand credit and complimentary scrap, and it's a little a power-trip to have others actively thinking about your viewpoint.

Starting out as a reviewer can also be quite difficult. It's regular to be uncertain if your viewpoints are "ideal" or to fret about whether composing an unfavorable evaluation is going to trigger difficulty, or just precisely how to tackle writing one.

We have actually corralled a bunch of expert customers across the fields of literary and young adult fiction, Australian fiction, non-fiction, blogging and poetry, and encouraged them into passing on pointers, tricks and ideas for assembling your critiquing abilities. Here's what they had to state:

Thuy On is the books editor of The Huge Concern. She is also a freelance critic, author and editorial Jill-of-all-trades. She has composed for a variety of publications consisting of The Australian, The Age, The Sydney Morning Herald, Books+Publishing, Australian Book Evaluation, Overland, Westerly and Australian Brief Stories.

What is the point of a book review?

If succeeded, book evaluations are a channel between author and reader, a filter in between gloss and dross, a possibility to keep up with the most recent literary phenomenon when you have no time at all to read it yourself. It's a conversation that continues after the last page is turned.

Do you have a different lens through which you check out a book, depending upon the publication you're writing for?

Yes, certainly. Not only does it depend on the publication but it depends on the word count required, although I find that many publications have their own design guide and will modify if your language is too flowery/stilted/casual and so on. Depending on the publication I will check out shallow or deep; often all that's required is a surface skim, other times you really have to check out even more.

What makes a bad (as in severely written) book evaluation?

I attempt not to place myself into a review. It's supposed to be about the book so you will not see the first individual pronoun in any of my reviews. I believe badly written evaluations are too faithful to plot exposition and not conscious enough of spoilers.

Do ever you feel concerned about writing unfavorable reviews?

I used to possibly, when I began twenty-odd years ago however now, no. I do not do this to amass good friends. I think you have to be brave. Essentially you are being paid to voice a considered, expert viewpoint so there is no point pandering to the masses or lying if you feel the book is underperforming in whatever capacity.

What has been your preferred evaluation that you've written?

I do not know if they are my preferred ones but I am fond of evaluations I have actually written that have broken every other reviewer's viewpoint. For circumstances, a while back there was a Peter Carey book that everyone in the market loved and raved about. Other than me. I truly didn't take care of it at all and stated so.

Nadia L King is a narrative writer and YA author in Western Australia. Kirkus Evaluation has explained her book, Jenna's Truth which handles teen cyberbullying as 'a deeply affecting, important story and academic tool. She routinely releases reviews of Australian writers on her blog here.

You mainly review Australian writing, what do you typically concentrate on when you do?

Examining Australian writing is, for me, about increasing direct exposure for Australian authors. This year, I have actually been taking part in the Australian Females Writers Challenge (#AWW 17) - an outstanding movement developed to increase awareness for composing by Australian women authors.

When I initially started examining books a number of years ago, I utilized a basic design template to ensure I was covering all pertinent points in an evaluation. Author Annabel Smith has actually written a great piece to direct new customers which you can read here. If you're interested in reviewing books, browse-- there are a lot of review websites to select from. Make certain you utilize social media to spread out the word about your evaluations.

Do you ever change your writing design to fit the publication?

I don't pitch my book reviews to external publications as I mostly post them to my blog site and share them extensively on social media. I find it particularly gratifying when a publisher utilizes my expressions to promote a book.

Composing book evaluations for my blog site rather than an industrial publication manages me a load of flexibility. I have an entire series of interviews entitled Male I Have Loved - these are interviews with characters instead of authors and provides readers an unique view into a story. Clearly, I can likewise select and select what I evaluate and the length of time each evaluation will be. Writing book evaluations for my blog site is pure delight and hopefully assist builds the writing neighborhood in a little way.

Do ever you feel worried about composing unfavorable reviews?

I very seldom write an unfavorable book evaluation. For me, the purpose of book reviews is to delight people about books and reading. If I decide not to evaluate a book I take the book off my Goodreads bookshelf.

What has been your preferred review that you've written?

I recently composed an extremely short evaluation for Paula Weston's YA book, The Undercurrent. I was pretty pleased when I saw Text Publishing utilizing my blurb in marketing material for the book!

Image credit: Bri Hammond Lou Heinrich is an author and critic whose words have been published in The Weekend Australian, City Mag, and The Raised Brow. She is among the receivers of The Wheeler Centre's Hot Desk Fellowships in 2017.

What is the point of a book evaluation in your mind?

A book reviewer's job, first of all, is to inform a story about the story. Your task is to interact to the reader what they will encounter when they open the book. The next part, my preferred, is to engage with the text. What are the crucial concepts and themes? What traces of other authors and traditions can you position? How can this be contextualised within modern writing, modern culture? This, here, is where you get to sift through the guts of the book with bloody hands.

As a feminist author, what does an evaluation composed from a feminist point of view aim to attain?

I do find a specific quantity of glee writing for conservative mainstream publications with a feminist bent. In this context, my hope is to inform readers.

It's likewise terrific to have a platform to magnify females's stories and experiences. A friend and I shared a giggle over my evaluation of Lindy West's Shrill that included these words:

She mocks the tendency to refer to menstruation in mystical metaphors, describing the procedure as "as soon as a month hot brown blood just glops and glops out of your personal area like a broken Slurpee machine".

Marvelous.

In general, I simply enjoy engaging with ideas. I compose from a feminist perspective since to me it has to do with freedom and justice for all people. And yes, while this points to an inflated sense of my own power, I do wish in my heart of hearts that writing feminist book reviews will create a more just, equivalent and caring world.

Do you make notes about the book as you check out?

Absolutely. It's everything about the work you do during reading! Summarising is a lot easier when its fresh. I doodle in margins, dog-ear pages, compose notes on my iPhone, on extra slips of paper, in note pads-- all for a single text!

If I'm composing for a little word count, like The Huge Concern (180w) you just have space to explain the essentials, so I will not read as closely. However for a larger publication, like The Australian (800w), I'll take more notes, and follow thoughts as they spring up. Often I talk to writers for The Guardian, and when reading I think about the author's point of view and objectives.

What do you think makes a bad book evaluation?

When the author does not understand the context. When they refuse to try to understand the author's intention, especially when it involves experimentation. When they simply repeat the plot. When they do not delight in the category. Conversely, when the author is too concentrated on a book measuring up to genre conventions. These are all errors I have actually made!

Do you have a set of requirements that you try to find in every book you examine?

I mainly checked out female authors because I'm trying to dismantle an education that claims essential literature is composed predominantly by white men. And because in some way book evaluations are evangelistic, and I want other people to check out books by females.

Appearance. Most of my evaluations have had to do with books by white women, so I require to find out from this and make a conscious effort to pitch more evaluations about books by people of colour. Since as Ambelin Kwaymullina composed for The Wheeler Centre, 'We need diverse books due to the fact that an absence of diversity is a failure of our humanity.' I'm attempting to change my ways-- in reality, I've got a write on Jenny Zhang's Sour Heart out soon.

What has been your favourite review that you've written?

Thordis Elva's South of Forgiveness (TW with that link-- sexual violence). Since I thought in the book's material: a paradigm shift to position the onus of male violence onto guys. And I was happy that it had the platform of a national broadsheet.

Anna Forsyth is a writer and freelance editor initially from NZ, now based in Melbourne. In 2012, she developed the feminist poetry reading, Ladies on Secret that is still going strong in Northcote. Her second book of poems , Heavenly Toast will be released in late 2017. In her copious extra time, she moonlights as indie artist, Grace Pageant. As a poetry customer what aspects does poetry evaluation entail?

For poetry, I intend to discover a way in. Attempting to piece together the puzzle of the poet's intention is half the enjoyable. It can take longer, but is well worth the effort. I typically like to find connections in between the poems and take a look at other referrals they are utilizing. My advice would be to read much and check out as extensively as possible in the genre. Truly think of what you like and do not like and why. Don't simply take a look at the lines, take a look at the whole thing and take a step back, then dive in when you are prepared.

Literary examines offer a possibility to explore the publication in depth, using vital analysis and they require a sound knowledge of the history of the category, consisting of theory ... when writing these reviews, I constantly to attempt to provide reasoned arguments for my reviews, rather than just commenting on what I like or do not like personally. Finding methods to get in touch with the works if I do not like them or battle to understand them is among the challenges, however one of my preferred features of composing reviews.

Do you have a various lens through which you write a review, depending on the publication you're composing for?

Definitely. I always keep my potential audience in mind though when writing evaluations and identify the importance to the author and publisher in terms of sales. As a little publisher of poetry myself, I understand how these things can affect on sales and on an emerging writer's profession. I take that obligation really seriously.

I believe all audiences need to know the response to an essential concern. That is, "Am I going to link to this work?" We are so over-saturated with details these days, we require to trust reviewers to assist us when purchasing or spending our time reading something. I try to paint an image of my experience, however advise readers that it is just my opinion.

What makes a bad evaluation?

A bad evaluation would be where the author hasn't put in the time to discover a method into the work. Frequently, an absence of knowledge in the area they are evaluating shows. I think you require to at least enjoy the genre you are evaluating and check out other works or understand the history. That way, you have the ability to comment with some degree of stability. That said though, everybody's opinion stands. There is nothing wrong with someone stating they do not like something. I just choose to know why when I read evaluations.

Do you have a set of criteria that you look for when you are reviewing?

No I do not have actually set criteria. My technique is to read the entire thing as a reader initially, then let it percolate by making remarks. Then, I look at the work holistically. I guess I have concerns that I use to explore the deal with a macro and micro level. What strategies has the writer utilized? Did they perform them well compared to others composing in that area? What is the cultural and artistic context of the work? What impressions did it offer me? If all else stops working, I ponder on specific lines and how I connect to them and why.

Do ever you feel anxious about writing negative reviews?

Yes, I do. Especially in poetry, as I understand a lot of the poets and it's a small community. I constantly tread carefully when criticising and sofa these things in such a way that puts the operate in the finest light possible, even if I found it difficult. I think I can still be truthful and have discovered a method to gently express those aspects that I find difficult or disagreeable.

Ashley Kalagian Blunt examines frequently for the Newtown Evaluation of Books, and has been released by the Sydney Evaluation of Books, Eliminate Your Darlings, Griffith Reviewand The Cusp. Her non-fiction workFilled with Donkey: Journeys in Armenia was shortlisted for the 2017 Kill Your Darlings Unpublished Manuscript Award. FullofDonkey.com You review primarily non-fiction books, what does a non-fiction evaluation aim to attain?

The key concern is what is the book's purpose, and how does it accomplish that purpose (or not). This is likewise true for fiction, but with non-fiction the function is normally more explicit. Non-fiction reviews are likewise more likely to focus on the book's contribution to the subject location or in other words, why the book matters, though not always. Reviewing books in a location where you have competence is important, since that competence allows you to engage with the book on a much deeper level than a basic reader.

What do you try to find when examining non-fiction?

In fact I do not have any set criteria. I approach each book fresh. I let my reading guide my thinking of what I will or will not prioritise in composing the evaluation. There's a lot that could be said about each book. As I check out, I ask: what's most interesting and important about this book?

In an evaluation of Patrick Lenton's A Male Made Totally of Bats, I wrote that if it 'were an alphabet book, its pages would consist of Antarctica, Bee-Judge, Captain Charisma, decapitation, explosives ...' and went on through the whole alphabet. This was motivated by the book's spirited vocabulary. If I began checking out with a set of criteria in mind, my focus on attending to that list may restrict my open and imaginative engagement with the book. Do ever you feel concerned about composing unfavorable evaluations?

A piece of suggestions I got early on was not to compose negative reviews, and I've supported that. That does not mean each review I compose is a radiant recommendation; I constantly intend to engage seriously. But I begin by thinking of the book's designated audience and how it resolves that audience, as well as what the book is trying to do, and if and how it achieves that. If I choose I can't compose a well balanced review, I don't write one at all. What has been your favourite evaluation that you've composed?

That's a hard choice! I recently examined Genocide: A World Historyfor the Sydney Review of Books, which gave me the chance to put forth my own thinking in a location I 'd studied for several years. Composing for SRB was satisfying due to the fact that the longform essay format supplied space to dive deeply into ideas.