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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 6 months

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What's this? Another Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow post?? But it's 2024! Surely, there's nothing new to uncover with regards to this seminal work of sequential storytelling...right?!?!?

Well...kinda. XD

BEHOLD! Another Tom King podcast interview, wherein he discusses Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, and mostly confirms stuff we already knew, but! BUT! He does drop some new bits of info!

Right then. LET'S GO!

My usual disclaimer applies, recommend listening to the interview firsthand to get a more objective perspective.

But if you're cool with my (INCREDIBLY BIASED! ALWAYS! ALWAYS BIASED WITH THIS BOOK!) summary, then ONWARDS WE GO.

(And when I say 'biased summary' what I mean is that I will be including the bits that make me want to run a victory lap because my readings were SPOT HECKIN' ON, ALL YE NAYSAYERS!*)

Ahem. Anyways.

So I'm going to start off with some new-ish info (at least, it's new-ish to me. XD) The interviewers had asked about the title, specifically in regards to Zor-El's dialogue in issue six (I believe it's the portion where Zor is explaining to Kara why he's going to save her, and says something like, "tomorrow will come soon enough...and you will be a woman looking back on the many decades of your life..." hence 'Woman of Tomorrow') and whether that was planned from the outset, or if that part came about organically as he was writing it.

King said he'd originally written a completely different script for issue six (which we did know) but FUN NEW FACTOID TIME: Zor-El/Kara's origin (initially) weren't included in issue six like, at all. It therefore would not have come up at any point within the mini-series, had they gone with that first script.

But editorial hated it (King agreed with their conclusion, and another fun fact, we'll get to see said script in the backmatter for the new deluxe edition, YAY) and when King asked if there was anything in it that they liked, they said the tiny flashback to Kara's time on Argo was good.

SO. King then decided to expand that/incorporate her origin, because that would be 'easy', and this was back during his crazy COVID writing schedule.

(Folks will perhaps recall that he wrote issue seven in like...a day. What we did not know was that he rewrote issue six in that same week.)

And then it ended up being everyone's favorite issue so yaaaaay for editors! Unsung heroes of comics!

They are also comics' greatest villains but that's a discussion for another day!

Evely's art was mentioned at this point and King was like, 'I had to go back and make the writing more beautiful/esoteric to match what she was putting out.'

Also we stan a comic writer who lets his artists take as long as they need on art. (Though as he's mentioned before, Evely was able to turn in the art quickly on this book, which is heckin' WILD to me, have you SEEN that woman's pencils and inkwork??!??!?!??!?!)

They touched on the True Grit comparisons, only relevant/new bits there are that King feels it's the perfect novel (agree) and that the John Wayne version is terrible (also correct) and the Cohen Brothers' version is great (right again.)

Another bit we already knew: It was an editor who was responsible for the suggestion that Kara should be Rooster, not Mattie. (I think in the past he credited this to Jamie Rich, but this time he said he couldn't remember if it was Rich or Brittany Holzherr, and said they could fight over the credit if they want. XD)

Either way, THANK YOU, WHOEVER YOU ARE, b/c the alternative pitch, with Kara as Mattie and Lobo as Rooster, sounded awful.

Instead King went with, 'Kara will learn from the young naïf, and teach the young naïf.'

(Much better.)

MORE NEW, FUN TRIVIA!!!!

King said they had the first issue completely drawn, colored, and lettered--basically ready to go, and DC said, 'we can't publish this because Supergirl doesn't drink.'

King called Jim Lee, trying to make his case, that she was twenty-one, it was legal, it was a totally normal/human thing to do, and Lee was like, 'but we can't.'

King: Could I do it with Superman? Lee: Yeah.

Essentially it was a lot of tiptoeing around stuff like, 'girls can't get drunk and whatnot' coupled with 'Supergirl can't do that because she's perfect and pure.'

But! Lee ultimately was like, 'okay, you can leave the scene in, but you can't say she's drunk.'

So if you go back and read the actual dialogue/narration, there's no explicit language confirming that kara is three sheets to the wind.

(Which is so, so ridiculous to me because the art makes it very, very clear that she is. XD LOOPHOLES!)

King and the interviewers pointed out that this real world editorial incident ironically tied into one of the metanarratives of the character, that being the pressure placed on Kara, which Clark doesn't have to deal with.

Art imitating life etc. etc. XD

Feel like I've heard this bit in other interviews but it's sweet so it bears repeating: the green sun planet's name is based on King's nickname for his daughter, and she was the one who came up with the idea of a 'green sun planet' during a discussion at dinner one night.

So shifting gears a bit, the rest of the podcast focused specifically on various plot points that the interviewers wanted to discuss/had questions about; it's basically King offering his insights as the writer. And I really, really appreciate this, for reasons I'll get to further down. Now then, more summarizing!

One of the interviewers brought up a sticking point he had with the book: the execution of the Brigand in issue four. Ruthye says to Supergirl that she thought she would save him. To which Supergirl replies: Did you?

King explained that Ruthye and Kara are on opposite journeys in this book. In issue one, Kara is on the side of 'I don't kill, heroes never kill' and Ruthye is on the opposite side, 'Krem killed my father, I have to kill him.' At the end of the book, they are once again on opposite sides, but they've switched.

(I love the way King described it, that Ruthye becomes Supergirl, and saves Supergirl. More on this later.)

But specifically that part in issue four, where Kara doesn't step in, King confirmed that she's on that journey, she's going through that transition, but she hasn't crossed the line of, 'I'll kill him myself.' Rather, she's allowing the system to do what it will.

King also mentioned that this theme isn't especially new and has been examined in comics time and time again, of superheroes asserting their morality over governments, and how that spirals into fascism. He cited Kingdom Come, etc.

Further comments from King on Kara's character: she's conflicted, unlike Clark. Clark's soul and ideals are aligned one to one; Kara wants that. She loves those ideals and wants to uphold them, but she's not fully aligned like that because of what she's been through (read: She's Seen Some Things)

Loved this bit from King: "Supergirl's a little more human than Clark, in spite of being more alien."

King said DC probably would've let him have Supergirl kill Krem in the end, BUT (and it's a good 'but' tying into that earlier bit about Ruthye becoming Supergirl) he said that the theme of this book was 'what makes Supergirl awesome' (he admits this is kind of a dumb theme, but hard disagree, sir) and he liked that Kara's lessons to Ruthye are ultimately what saves her. Kara saves herself.

(STICK A PIN IN THAT ONE, FOLKS)

King once again stated, for the record, that Krem does not die in the end!

The two interviewers had differing interpretations, hence King needing to confirm. XD He even pulled out his script for issue eight, and the description does indeed say that Krem is unconscious, not dead.

And, AND, Evely even made this clearer in the art; the script didn't have Krem moving after Ruthye hit him, but Evely added Krem placing his hand on his head.

Another point the interviewers wanted to discuss: Ruthye writing that Supergirl had killed Krem.

King confirmed that this was to prevent the Brigands from retaliating against Ruthye, and instead focus on going after Supergirl.

In King's mind, Kara feels immense guilt that her father saved her over literally anyone else, so she spends her life taking on other people's pain, to make up for what she sees as taking someone else's spot on that ship.

The scene in issue seven, where Kara's falling through the atmosphere and pushes through in order to preserve the memories that she carries with her was inspired by events from King's life; his mother died unexpectedly, and when going through her things, realized that he was one of the only people who carried certain memories of his mother and grandparents; he described it as a kind of burden.

Last question from the interviewers: Why make Ruthye and unreliable narrator? Do we believe anything in this book, now?

King started off his answer by noting that he fought against using captions in his books for his entire career; by the time he started writing comics, caption boxes had sort of lost their vitality and had become the equivalent of thought balloons, which had long since fallen out of style.

But when he returned to them with Supergirl, he said, (and I have the full quote below)

King: "What I love about [captions] is that you can write things that contrast what's in the pictures, so that the captions can tell you a little bit of a different story than what you're seeing, and thereby enhance it--it's that idea of Ruthye being, she's narrating the story but we're seeing pictures of what's actually happening, creates an excellent sort of tension I think." (Bold mine)

And so, some THOUGHTS!

As always, I love learning new things about this comic. I wish this comic had a commentary track, with King (and Evely, Lopes, and Cowles!) talking about the creation/processes behind the book.

Next best thing is podcasts, I guess! XD

But IN ADDITION to fun, new information, as I mentioned at the outset, King has basically confirmed a bunch of stuff I mentioned in my deep dive posts.

To quote one of the interviews: "I was validated by Tom King!"

This also debunks like. Every bad-faith criticism lobbed at the book. It's almost like a checklist of the month-to-month stuff I was seeing from those aforementioned naysayers, complaining on twitter that King had ruined Kara beyond repair.

They'll likely never listen to this podcast, but I wish they would! I think it would make them feel better. XD Like, hearing the insights on Kara/Ruthye/etc has just reminded me once again how good this book is, and how emotionally moving.

Like, again, I love the way King sums up how Kara and Ruthye work together in this book to shine a spotlight on Supergirl; Kara teaches Ruthye lessons, Ruthye becomes Supergirl thanks to those lessons, Ruthye then saves Kara, thus Kara saves herself.

(Which hey, I touched on in my issue eight post, way back when.)

(I'm also beyond thrilled that my assumption that the art is the true account while the narration boxes are Ruthye's recounting was CORRECT.)

(Which isn't to suggest this is a terribly deep, difficult to decipher text. I mean. It's a monthly comic book intended for mass consumption, starring popular IP--the writing isn't inaccessible by any means. XD But I just remember seeing SO MANY PEOPLE deliberately misreading these specific points as a way to Stay Mad, so I'm relieved that my glass half full interpretations wasn't just the result of desperate Evely Stan goggles, you know? XD)

TL;DR: I cannot heckin' WAIT for that big, beautiful hardcover coming out in July (IDK if I've posted about it here yet but Lopes said he recolored some stuff so you BETTER BELIEVE I'll be back on my Woman of Tomorrow nonsense this summer) and I'm also thrilled that this entire creative team has returned with a new creator owned title (EXPECT A POST ON THAT...AT SOME POINT???)

#long post #supergirl: woman of tomorrow #supergirl: woman of tomorrow spoilers #dc comics

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

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A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic)

(GIF credit to @aryaofoldstones)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! I saw your looking for Bridgerton requests, I would love some Benedict x Eloise sibling fluff! They have such a good dynamic in the show and I need more’

(I wouldn’t mind making another part of this if people want it tbh)

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Eloise Bridgerton x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eloise’s gloved hands clung onto her book as she and her family arrived at yet another social event, a ball once again. Her mama had ensured she was dressed to catch the eyes of men, and Eloise knew that meant there would be no room for intelligent conversation. With Daphne now married to the Duke, Eloise had more pressure on her shoulders than she imagined, having to find a suitor of similar standards. However, it wasn’t just her on the market, her brothers were too, especially Benedict (Violet knew it would be extremely difficult to marry off Anthony first, opting for the second eldest son).

Eloise smiled whenever her mama looked her way, though it quickly disappeared once she turned around. Benedict had been instructed to escort her sister around the ball to help seek out suitors, the men knew each other or something about someone; he could help her meet the right one.

“I cannot believe I am here.” Eloise moaned as she looped her arm through her brothers.

“Believe me sister, I do not wish to be here either.”

“Why must you parade me around like a horse at a dressage in order to find a new owner?” Eloise kept catching the men’s gazes, turning up her nose in disgust.

“So dramatic.” he chuckled.

She scoffed.“Well, if you’re going to advise me on who I should be marrying, I shall do the same for you. Now let’s see...”

Eloise looked around the room at all the women, wondering who would be the best match for her brother. Most of these women had no personalities, relying on their outfits to express themselves. Eloise knew of some ladies that were nice, though had nothing in common with her brother.

Eloise shrugged, tugging on her brother’s arm towards the door.“Ah, there’s no one here for us. Let us make haste and leave-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Benedict pulled her back,“we have been strictly told to stay for the night, even if it is just to socialise and...get our names out there.”

Eloise groaned a little too loudly, Ben ducking his head in embarrassment.“How long do these balls go on for?”

“I have never stayed for the full duration.”

“That’s not the answer I want to hear.”

Benedict glanced down at her, somehow only just realising that Eloise had brought a book with her.“Is that book sewed to your hand sister?”

“I brought it just in case I became bored. Which I am already.”

“I shall go and grab us some refreshments. Might as well enjoy them whilst we’re here.”

Eloise let her brother slip away, quickly finding a hiding spot by leaning up against a wall, away from the hustle and bustle of the crowds. She opened her book, continuing where she left off, happy she brought a pencil to scribble down notes for later. The studying never stopped for Eloise.

“Excuse me?” a woman’s voice interrupted her too soon.

Eloise tried her best to be polite, though her smile came off as sarcastic.“Yes?”

“Sorry,” the woman looked taken back,“I thought you were reading a book that I am reading at the moment, but I was wrong. I’ve disturbed you, I shall leave you alone-”

“Wait,” Eloise had now sparked an interest. No other lady had ever approached her like this,“I don’t mean to be rude. What book had you expected?”

“It’s oh so obvious, but I’ve been reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen. It’s the newest book out at the moment, and my mama lets me read it seeing as it involves a woman finding someone to marry. Although, it’s definitely about something deeper, that’s just what I told her.”

“I don’t indulge in romantic novels myself, but I am glad to hear of a female author selling her work.”

“It’s fantastic. And it’s nice to be able to read something without it being snatched out of my hands. Oh, where are my manners? I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Sorry, I’ve been dancing with men all night and none of the conversations have been as riveting as this so far.”

“Why am I not surprised?” they both laughed.“I’m Eloise Bridgerton.”

(Y/N) tried to not show her shock when she heard the surname. They were only the most talked about family, her mama had gone on and on about them, especially when Lady Whistledown mentioned them in her writings.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Might I ask what it is that you are reading?”

“It is to do with my studies. I truly hate these events, so I thought I would ensure my mind was being worked properly.” Eloise realised that could come off as rude, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment.“I did not mean to offend you by that.”

“It really isn’t any bother.” (Y/N) giggled.“I rather enjoy these just for the dancing and drinks, I find promenading to be more successful in finding a suitor. Though I would much rather sneak off and see if I can get a few more pages in of a book I shouldn’t be reading.”

“Eloise, why must you go wondering off like that...” Benedict’s words trailed off as he approached his sister, spotting a beautiful woman stood by her.

Eloise’s eyes flickered between the two, and she smiled when she saw the adoration in her brother’s eyes. Cheekily taking the two glasses from his hands, she passed one to (Y/N), who awkwardly took it. (Y/N) had gazed upon the Bridgerton men in passing, they were very nice to look at. Of course, she never divulged in any fantasies about them, that would be silly. But seeing one in front of her had taken her breath away.

“Thank you brother.” Eloise said, taking a sip.“This is Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a new friend of mine.”

He gently took her free hand in his, bending forwards slightly to kiss it. (Y/N) had this done to her many times, but this was different. Benedict made her feel butterflies in her stomach. Eloise could tell her mama was going to love this.

She cleared her throat.“We were just speaking of art, actually.”

(Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows.“We were talking about books.”

“I was about to move the topic along.”

“What kind of art would that be then?” Benedict asked, knowing what game his sister was playing.

“The...drawing, kind.”

“Isn’t all art drawn?”

“No, it is also painted.”

“I think artists may sketch out a rough idea before painting.”

“Well you would know brother, seeing as you yourself are an artist.”

“I wouldn’t say that-”

“You paint, Lord Bridgerton?” (Y/N) asked.

“Ah, yes, and I sketch.” he hoped his cheeks weren’t turning red.

“Anything in particular?”

“Mostly people.”

“Are you both attending the art exhibition my family are holding next week?”

“That’s your families’ exhibit?” Benedict became excited.

“Yes, my father collects a lot of art work. Then mother realised she could make a social event out of it, but at least everyone will be able to admire the work.”

“Would you believe it, we already have it noted down in our social calendar!” Eloise informed (Y/N). Benedict could sense her over-reacting, trying to keep a smile as (Y/N)’s face lit up in excitement.

“Perfect!” (Y/N) looked back up at Ben, making him stand a little taller.“It will be nice to have someone there who knows about the artwork. It will make for an interesting conversation. Just don’t let my father lecture you, he will talk for far too long! And I know you will be too polite to try and get away.”

“My brother is very polite.” Eloise said.“In fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t-”

“Excuse me for the intrusion,” a young man said from beside (Y/N),“but I was wondering if we could resume our dance lady (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) was smiling, but Eloise knew that look; it was the face women made when a man who made them uncomfortable approached, but they had to remain ladylike and polite.

“Actually my brother just asked her and she said yes. You two best make your way to the floor before the music starts again.” Eloise nudged her brother.

Benedict was confused at his sisters offer, until he locked eyes with (Y/N) again. They were pleading him to sweep her away, she was even leaning away from this man. He had been disrespectful in some way, and he wasn’t letting (Y/N) go through that again (despite only knowing the girl for a few minutes). He smugly smiled at the man, holding out his arm which (Y/N) took a little too quickly. Eloise was happy with herself as the pair walked off, sending the man a death glare when he asked her to dance instead. Once he left, her eyes went back to find her brother, who was already dancing with (Y/N), both smiling and laughing. Her mama was going to be ecstatic about this.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Eloise sat in the drawing room, obviously lounging with a book. Her younger siblings were being irritating as usual, running around her in circles. Before they arrived, she had peace. Eloise wanted a few moments alone, because she knew her mama would be bursting with questions about the night before.

“Ah, there you are.” Violet said as she walked in.

The book flopped into Eloise’s lap, a frown on her face. There goes her reading time.

“So, how was last night? Did you meet anyone?” her mama sat beside her.“You two, go play outside if you’re going to run around please.”

The children stopped as their mama spoke, sending each other devilish grins before they ran out of the room again, their giggling echoing down the halls. Violet went to shout after them, but decided to leave it be, there were more pressing matters.

“Well mama, do you see any suitors?” Eloise gestured around her.

Violet sighed.“Did you even try last night?”

“My life will not be reduced to a single night where I was forced to peacock around in order to please a man.”

“Oh, Eloise, must you make everything so dramatic?”

“Funny, Benedict said the same thing.”

“Actually, where is your brother? I have not seen him all morning.”

“He went out.” Eloise was relieved that the focus would now be off of her.“He’s calling upon a lady.”

Violet’s eyes widened.“What? When? Who?”

“Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/L/N)? They are quite reputable.”

Eloise rolled her eyes.“Mama, she is a lovely girl. I don’t think you should just judge her on what family she comes from.”

“Oh, so you approve of this girl?”

“I...I mean...Well, I only spoke with her for a mere few minutes.”

“But?”

Eloise let out a huff.“I enjoyed her company. I think Benedict likes her. I didn’t see him for the rest of the night until it was time to leave. He spent all his time with her.”

Violet became overjoyed.“Oh, what marvelous news! I wish he had told me. Do you know what he took to her? Flowers? Food?”

“I have no idea mama. Just wait for his return and he will tell you all the details. I am not a psychic.”

Violet was impatient as she awaited the return of her son. Poor Collin had also been questioned when he showed up in the drawing room, but he had overslept in bed, waking with a terrible headache. It seemed that it was about to come back to him when his mama bombarded him with questions as to why he hadn’t called upon anyone that morning. Eloise kept her giggles quiet, ducking behind her book when Collin sent her daggers.

Poor Benedict had no idea what was in store for him. His cheeks were aching from how much he was smiling. He wasn’t surprised when he arrived at the (Y/L/N)’s house and saw multiple callers for (Y/N). However, jealousy rose inside him when he thought about these men dancing with her, trying to convince her that they were the man to marry. He held a beautiful bouquet of flowers, remembering that (Y/N) had mentioned her favourite the night before. Looking around at any other flowers she received, he was glad to see no other gentleman had chose it. Surely that would show he was listening? He endured sonnets, stories, songs and boasting from the other men, trying not to show his dissatisfaction as each one stepped forward. There was pressure that her parents were there, especially when he realised he was the last gentleman, everyone else had left.

(Y/N) had been incredibly anxious when she saw Benedict that morning. He had been the only man she genuinely smiled at, hoping he came at his own will, not forced by his mama. The night before had been the best ball (Y/N) had ever been to. Benedict was sweet, charming, handsome and interesting. They were able to talk about anything and everything, no small talk involved like all the other men she danced with. He had swooned her, and here he was, calling upon her.

Back at the Bridgerton house, Violet had not sat down since talking Collin’s ear off. Eloise was still in the drawing room with her, as were her two youngest siblings, munching on biscuits as they threw questions at their mama. She did not have all the answers, sometimes not even hearing them speak for she was too deep in her thoughts. At one point, she did sit, but beside the window, o the lookout for any signs of her son. When a carriage pulled up in front of the house, Violet leapt out of her seat, startling her children. She made a beeline to the door, standing there with her hands clasped together. When Benedict walked in, he too flinched, not expecting his mama to be there.

“Mama, how long have you been stood there?” Benedict asked as he walked past her, pinching a biscuit from his brother’s plate.

“She’s been waiting for you.” Eloise explained, also excited to hear about his calling.

“I hope you sat down at some point.” he joked, sitting beside Eloise and slouching.

Violet hurried to sit on the sofa across him.“You didn’t tell me you were calling on a lady this morning.”

“Well, we got back late from the ball yesterday evening, and I had to leave early to ensure I got there in good time. Though it seemed every other man thought that too.”

“There were many men there?”

“Yes, quite a few.”

Eloise straightened up at her brother’s grumpy expression.“You really like her!”

“How wonderful!” Violet gushed.

“Do not get ahead of yourselves.”

“But you do, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have called on her.”

Ben was lost for words. He couldn’t argue with that, and he did like seeing his mama happy.“Yes, yes I do. And it would seem she reciprocates the feelings.”

“This is such good news! I must see what our social calendar looks like, we must ensure you two spend time together.”

“Actually mama-” Eloise went to tell her about the art exhibit until Ben interrupted.

“Good idea mama.” he nodded, smiling at her as she walked away, a spring in her step. Once she was gone, he let out a big breath.“I just needed a moment without questions from her.”

“Well, you’re going to have questions from me.” Eloise angled her body to face him, her elbow perched on the sofa with her face resting in her hand.“I didn’t think you were going to call upon her. Are my match making skills really that good?”

“I hate to admit it, but yes, you have done an excellent job.” Benedict felt relaxed thinking about (Y/N).

“So, what happened this morning?”

“I took her flowers, she told me her favourites last night, and then I had to sit there whilst her other gentleman callers desperately tried to impress her. It was agony! Finally I was able to have time with her, and it was just...I don’t know how to put it into words.”

“Did you bring her anything else?”

Benedict became bashful.“I brought her a sketchbook, like the one I have. She mentioned how she used to often sketch when she was younger. I thought it would be a unique gift.”

“Benedict, you truly are a romantic at heart.”

“For her I am, yes.”

Eloise smiled for her brother, until a smirk fell on his face.“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Aw, is someone also a secret romantic?”

“No!” Eloise protested, quickly grabbing her book again.“I am just happy you found someone.”

“And you helped, because you secretly want everyone to find someone.”

“No I don’t! You’re ruining this moment now Benedict.”

“Don’t worry Eloise, you’ll find someone.” Ben joked.

She groaned.“You are insufferable...but I still want to go to that art exhibit.”

“To see love bloom?”

“N-no, to see the art work.”

“Of course, of course. But, thank you Eloise.”

She tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it.“You’re welcome.”

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summerlovingbaby · 3 years

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haikyuu boys dating someone shy

part 2

Hinata

would not understand shyness as a concept

def uphold most of the conversation

he’s talk your ear off about random crap, mostly about volleyball

you willingly listen because you love hearing him talk about things he is passionate about

he would also always carry candy in case he ran into you so he could give you some

he also realized that you talked more when he gave you candy so he always do that as well

would give you his jacket on cold days cause he knows that you’d be to afraid to ask

also makes you drink water because he knows that you’d forget

wouldn’t be mad if you fell asleep at his game because he gets that people make you tired.

Kageyama

would def be a nervous wreck about you

at first he was worried that you just didn’t like him

but then he realized that you were just shy

but he’s still a nervous wreck around you

like walk into glass door nervous

kiss you on the cheek a lot because he likes to see you blush

do things without you asking because he knows that you’d to be afraid to ask

gives you his clothes without prompting

randomly gives you gifts like books or pencils because he likes it when your face lights up

watches you when you do novel tasks because he likes seeing you in your element

he thinks that you’re holding back in public

so when you are in private, and in your element he thinks your adorable

also buys you stuffed animals, and sprays them with his cologone and you sometimes you sleep with them.

Tuskki

you two didn’t talk alot in general so you two would not talk a lot

but he’s surprised at how secretly snarky you are

like when you first meet you are super awkward

but slowly you get more comfortable around him and you start letting your personality out

you two making lighthearted snarky remarks about eachother

“ you’re like a fun sized candy bar.”

“ Shut up slim jim.”

“ That was a good one,”

“ I know right, been sitting on that one for a while.”

def buy you dinosaur things, so every time you see them you think of them

orders your food because he knows that it stresses you out

he bought you a dinosaur t shirt once and was super excited when you wore it

def very protective of you in crowded spaces

distracts you by sharing his music

keeps you away from the team ( except yams and the third years) because he knows that you would probably get an a brain bleed

silent walks home where you two share music

always wears a scrunchie because you usually forget

Yamaguchi

lets be real, hes shy and awkward to

so you two just end up being double shy and awkward

being really goofy in private

both of yall showing random burst of affection to fluster the other person

you showing up to his games wearing his number and watching him bright red

Tuskki giving him dating advice that never works out because he is so awkward

him buying you stuffed animals beause he likes it when you get really excited

taking turns ordering for each other

him trying pick up lines that end up being awkwardly adorable

him showing up to your art shows without telling you just to watch you blush

holds your hand on the walk home

protects you in large crowds

brings candy where ever you to go, because you happy dance when you eat gummy bears

lmk if you want the third years and Neckoma

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this-is-spn20 · 3 years

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FLUFF ALPHABET! Sam Winchester!

A/N: Here’s Sammy boy! My small adorable baby! Let me know what you guys think about this!

-Marissa

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A ctivities- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam is a pretty laid-back man. When he sees a chance at relaxing with you, he snatches as quickly as possible. Whether it’s just walking or driving around towns, going to the local library (cause God knows the only book they have at the bunker are the Wizard of Oz books, and the men of letters’ books.), to looking up fun recipes to try with you. The man will always keep you occupied!

B eauty- What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sam likes that despite you being very soft-spoken, you’re nowhere near dumb. You’re also very confident. Of course, you’ll still ask Sam what he thinks if you piece together a somewhat bold outfit. But you might as well call him Bruno Mars cause- well you know.

I feel like if you are an artist of some sort, he might decide to pick up your art of choice as a hobby for when he has no research or hunts. Maybe if you draw, he’ll buy both of you sketchbooks and pencils. Or if you use a tablet he might buy you a better one. He’ll try doing simple drawings to start off with a tree or two. An eye here and there. He struggling and he’s probably gonna get a bit upset with himself if his skills don’t pick up like yours. But he’s trying really hard! If you like making music, he might ask you to play guitar. He might even ask you to teach him how to sing! But be patient, he can barely carry a tune but he’s so happy to learn! Might take him almost a year to get the hang of it, but once he does, he is an absolute Beast with some strings!

C omfort- How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Sam has anxiety himself so he knows the signs when one is coming on. He’s been around stressful things/people/events all his life. His father was abusive throughout his and Dean’s childhood. When he ran away to go to college, he had to learn to interact with new environments and people. In conclusion, the man KNOWS what anxiety is. And how to handle it. He’ll have you sit down and close your eyes. He won’t touch you just in case it makes you more nervous. He’ll breathe slowly with you, serving as a guide to get your bearings. Once you’ve slowed your breathing he knows you can’t hold anything so he gets you a glass of water with a straw and holds the glass for you. He knows you probably won’t want to eat anything so he just picks you up when you say he can, and brings you to bed, and reads you to sleep while holding you close.

D reams- How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Sam knows for sure he wants to marry you. He also wants kids with you but the risk of being raised in the life he kept him up at night. Now don’t get him wrong, he knows that whatever happens, family will take care of it. They always do. But he’s not sure if that’s a risk worth taking. He just wants to have the apple pie life. He’d kill every monster with his bare hands just to have that with you.

E qual- Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Sam is quite dominant in the relationship. He always takes care of everything for you. He doesn't buy into the stereotype that women should be doing everything for their partners. He tries to help you out with everything and he doesn't take no for an answer. You've known for a while that Sam's love language is Acts of Service. All he's done all his life is help people, so it just seeps into the relationship. Sure he believes that a relationship should be a healthy balance of 50\50, but at the same time, he can't help take over and take care of you. This man is just precious.

F ight- Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Depending on what the fight was about Sam would be pretty open to forgiving you pretty quickly. However sweet Sam can be, if he believes that he has even a pinky toe to stand on in the fight, he’ll stick to it. It’s only when the shouting has gotten too much for you that you walk away that he may see where you’re coming from. Give him a or two. That way you both had time to cool down. You’ll spend the rest of the day talking it through, seeing each other’s perspectives. Even if you guys can’t agree with each other, you’ll know how to better handle the situation next time.

G ratitude- How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Even though he mostly does mundane things for you, you try to help out as much as he’ll let you. For example, if you noticed that he has a lot of research to do, while he’s sleeping or is on a supply run, you’ll continue his research so that he’ll have more time to relax and let loose a bit more. You think he doesn’t notice but he does, and he appreciates it. It makes him feel like he hasn’t been ‘slacking off’, or that he hasn’t wasted too much time doing other things. Sometimes you’ll even finish the research and he’ll have nothing much to do for a while. Except relaxing with you of course!

H onesty- Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Sam doesn’t have to hide much from you. You’re a damn good hunter. He would even go as far as to say you were better than him and Dean. He knows damn well you can take care of yourself and that you don’t like being babied often. He knows your secrets as well as you know his. It takes a big weight off his shoulders, knowing he doesn’t have to hide who he is with you.

I nspiration- Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You were always an adventurous and carefree person. You always had a hard time balancing fun and work. Sometimes it got you into trouble. Sam noticed this when you two first met and as your relationship got more serious and tried to help you with the balence. By all means you aren’t magically better, but you’re learning. Sam on the other hand, had the same issue. The work and fun balance is a tricky one to master. You help Sam have more fun, like you he’s getting better at having more fun. But again it’s not going to happen overnight. Oh and you eat a salad of two once a month now!

J ealousy- Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

On the rare occasion the Sam gets extremely jealous, it's usually when someone tries to touch. Regardless of whether you let it happen (for fun) or not, he can’t help himself. He wants you all to himself. No Sharing!!

K iss- Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Sam is a very good kisser. He always kisses you like he hasn’t seen you in years. Most of the time his kisses are very rough but intimate. The first kiss was after four dates. Yes that’s a long time but you wanted to make sure you did this right with Sam. Plus he reassured you that he’d wait as long as you wanted to. You were sitting next to Sam in the Library doing some light research since most of it had gotten done earlier that week. The tension had been building up all week, you were finally ready to kiss Sam. Despite this not being your first kiss, you hadn’t kissed many people so understandably, you were nervous. You reached your arm over his and gently closed his laptop and angled your body toward his. You leaned over to him slowly, creeping your hand to his shoulder and finally your lips connected. Sam’s hand softly grabbed your hand on his shoulder and you both stayed like that until you both needed air. That was one of, if not, the most intimate moment you’ve had with Sam so far.

L ove Confession- How would they confess to their s/o?

Sam would be a bundle of nerves when he tries to confess. He’s tried to do it at least three times but each time he either got too nervous or something would interrupt him. Eventually settled for being simple, yet intimate. He had invited you to come to the library with him to sit and read for a while. It was about an hour and a half of you both being immersed in your own books that he told you he was going to the coffee shop in the bookstore to get a coffee. He got you your favorite drink. He had the barista give him a sharpie before they made your drink, then he wrote his message to you and bought you the drink when the order was done. You could see Sam was shaking and fidgeting but you couldn’t tell why.You figured you’d let him tell you when he’s ready. If only you know. You were only a few sips into your drink when you noticed some writing on the cup. Curious, you read the message which read;

(Y/n), I have loved you from the best of times to the worst. Would you do the honor of going on a date with me?

-Sam

You sat up, a bit stunned. You looked at Sam to see him smiling shyly at you. You couldn’t do much but giggle and nod at the giant softie.

M arriage- Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Marriage is something Sam and you have talked a lot about it. You two know you definitely want to get married but the question was when. You want to do it sooner rather than later. While Sam agrees, he also feels like that it should be a sign of both of you leaving life for good. Sam is a very nostalgic person, which means he’ll most likely recreate him asking you out and your first date. At the end of the night he’d get down on one knee and before he gets to say one word you burst into tears. When he finishes his speech, you of course say yes and the night continues...elsewhere.

N icknames- What do they call their s/o?

Sugar is used more often than not. Baby and babygirl are pretty prevalent. Honey Bunch is used less but when he does call you that usually puppy dog eyes are shortly behind.

O n Cloud Nine- What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When Sam is in love it’s less obvious to everyone, but if they know Sam, they’ll notice the little things. Things like Sam now has permanent smile lines and his shoulders don’t hold so much tension anymore. If you didn’t come on a hunt with him and Dean he always has Dean stop off to get a bouquet of flowers. Of course he gets shit from Dean but he still does it everytime cause he is a good big brother.

P DA- Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

While Sam will let anyone know that you’re together (if need be), he’s pretty subtle about it. There is the subtle hand on your thigh or around your waist. Maybe a little quick forehead kiss but other than that unless they knew you, someone wouldn’t be able to guess you two are together.

Q uirk- Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Sam has this really deep, rich, raspy type of voice. That makes him the BEST narrator ever! He often reads you to sleep when you two spend a lazy night in or if you have a nightmare. He’s there with a book you’ve been reading and he reads you a chapter or two before you’re out like a light.

R omance- How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Sam is the KING of romance. When he plans something for you, he goes all out! When it comes to making you happy, he’ll do whatever it takes. There are almost no limits to his love. He lives by the term “Happy Wife, Happy Life.”. Sam is pretty nostalgic so he’ll be cliche, but he’ll be creative and add his own twist to it! So you could say he’s pretty creative.

S upport- Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Sam loves learning about your goals and helping you achieve them. If you have 5 different goals, he's all there for you, helping you learn ways to achieve them quicker. If you want to. If you feel like those goals are impossible to reach, he’s there to help you see nothing’s impossible.

T hrill- Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

While Sam likes to have a solid routine, he tries to keep things *spicy* when it comes to your relationship. Whether it's something mundane or outrageous, you and Sam try your best to keep things fun for the both of you.

U nderstanding- How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

You and Sam know each other so well it's gotten to the point where if you or him need something, you know what’s needed and how much before the other even opened their mouth. When this happens, Dean just kinda stares at the both of you with a “what the actual fuck?’ look.

Sam: *sees you walking into the kitchen* Hey babe we-

Y/N: We need to get some milk today. You wanna leave at 11?

Sam: *goes back to drinking his coffee* Yep.

Dean: *freaking the fuck out*

V alue- How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Sam knew from the first date that his life would be in your hands. He trusts you with everything he has. What’s your relationship worth to him? More than any diamonds, jewels, or power. Nothing can ever be worth more than you.

W ild Card- A random Fluff Headcanon.

Sam took you to an event at a bar one night for a date. The theme that night was ‘50’s and 60’s dance night!’ He bought you a dress that would be worn in that era and he wore his brand new tux he bought, just for tonight. Just for you. Your feet were screaming in your heels but you and Sam were having too much fun to leave the dance floor. When you guys got home that night Sam gave you the BEST foot rub ever.

X OXO- Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

In private, Sam will smother you with kisses and cuddles. The man can almost never let you go. The poor touch starved baby.

Y earning- How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Sam likes to log in to your Spotify, he knows most likely wherever you are, you’re listening to your music. He likes to listen to your playlists with you. It makes him feel closer to you.

(He’ll never admit it but you have better taste in music than him.)

Z eal- Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

It’ll be a close call but if he had to choose to save Dean or you, he’d choose you. It’d break him for a while, but he knows his brother wants him to have the apple pie life with you. And in the end, he’d always do it. No matter how hard it’d be for him and you every time, he wouldn’t change a thing.

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A/N: Thank you guys for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Requests are always open!

Spread Love!

-Marissa

#Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #dean winchester #supernatural imagines #supernatural

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movedbl0g · 4 years

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stray kids - reacting to you being an artist

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

🖤requested by @tayatubby

-> I hope you like it!!

(Gifs also belong to their original owners)

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Bang Chan:

Chan finally got a day off, he was spending the last days in his studio, busy with working on new music. So when you finally could meet again, you decided to go on a picnic date, bringing cinnamonrolls and a lot of other stuff with you.

After you ate, Chan laud down, his head pointing up while resting on your thigh, slowly drifting to sleep. You softly stroked his hair, when u had an idea. You grabbed your sketchbook from the bag besides you and you started to draw the peacefully sleeping man in front of you.

You were almost finished, just a few little details missed, so you were looking at Chan, appreciating his features in order to draw them right. All of the sudden, a little “hey! You’re staring!”, brought you back to earth, as you were completely zoning out. “Oh- I I’m sorry I just-“ , you stumbled nervously, but after your eyes met Chans , you both laughed it off.

Then, Chans eyes fell into your sketchbook. “What are you drawing?”, he curiously asked trying to peak on the page. You tried the close the sketchbook as fast as possible, but Chans fast reflexes already kicked in and he grabbed the book before you could close it.

As he saw your drawing, he immediately blushed and let out a small chuckle. “I didn’t know that you can draw that well y/n! This looks really amazing!! Why am I only seeing this now?? Please,,can tou draw something for me??”

Lee Know:

You were sitting on the couch in the large dance practice room,the room filled with the sound of music and Minho’s steps. He has been practicing for a while now, while you carefully watch every movement he makes.

After a while you decided to draw a little, you always had a sketchbook and a pencil with you (just in case), so you pulled it out of your beg and opened a free page.You started to sketch the different movements Minho did, analyzing his anatomy and emotions, trying to include them in your sketches.

Once you had the base of several movements and poses in the paper, you started working on the little details. You were so caught up in drawing, that you didn’t notice that the music suddenly stopped and that Minho walked up to you.

“I didn’t know that you could draw that well, y/n!”, he said and you clearly heard the amazement in his voice. “Thank you”, you said while your cheeks flushed red. “But no matter how good my drawing skills are”, you continued,” the drawings will never look as handsome as you do in real life”.

Changbin:

Finals week were coming up soon, but you just couldn’t concentrate on the school stuff in front of you. You tried listening to calm music and asmr, but nothing seemed to help. Your mind just kept swaying to other things or well...Changbin.

You started to mindlessly scribble on your notes,but after a while you started to draw an actual portrait from Changbin on your notes, trying to bring in all the details, like the sparkle in his eyes and cute dimples.

“I thought you wanted to study”, a voice behind you said, causing you to jump. You blushed and tried to cover the drawing on your notes but Changbin already laud his eyes on it. “Is- is that me??”, he asked,you were not able to tell if he liked it or if he thought that it looked horrible.

You hid your face in your hands, trying to hide the embarrassed look an your face. “Yes...maybe....”, you said slowly, waiting for a clear reaction. Changbin started to giggle, blushing from your cuteness “it really looks amazing, you could definitely sell this!”

You both started to giggle. “Well, maybe you should draw another one tho, because these math equations kinda kill the vibe”, he added,giving you a small peck before walking into the bathroom.

Hyunjin:

“You really think that you can draw better than me?”, Hyunjin asked teasingly. “I mean we could do a drawing contest and let the other members decide who won”, you answered confidently,raising an eyebrow at him.

What Hyunjin didn’t know,is that you always were good in arts and you even studied it for a while, before you decided to concentrate on other things. After you both agreed on a theme you both started drawing, a wall of arts supplies blocking you both from looking at the other’s artwork.

Time flew by quickly, you were both silent for the most time, concentrating on the drawing in front of you. “I’m finished!”, Hyunjin suddenly screamed, confidence written in his face and you can’t help but let out a small giggle.

Hyunjin eyed you offended “so you’re thinking your winning, huh”, he stated in a teasing voice, “then show me your drawing fir-“. He stopped in the middle of his sentence, as you turned around your artwork to him, causing him to gasp out loud. “Nooooo”, he whined dramatically,” how was I supposed to know that you’re THAT good at drawing....this is not fairrrrr”

Jisung:

It was the first time that you two went to your apartment. You had been together for a few months now, but you always met at different places and mostly the dorm.

The two of you had bags filled with groceries in your hand,since you were planning on cooking together this evening.After a little bit of struggle you opened your apartment door and held the door open for Jisung, letting him walk in, while his eyes explored your apartment.

As you put down the groceries in your kitchen, Jisungs eyes fell on the colorful wall in your apartment, it was filled with little drawing, landscapes, forms and a lit of different things, but somehow it all harmonized to one big picture.

As you catched your boyfriend staring at the wall, you walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his chest while pulling him close “Do you like it?”, you asked. “Are you kidding me??”, he answered, his voice excited while his eyes were still lingering on the wall, “this is one of the most amazing and beautiful things I’ve ever seen...I can really be happy to have such an talented partner like you, y/n”

Felix:

“Do you want to help me decorate this cake??”, Felix yelled from the kitchen,while you were busy scrolling on your phone in the living room. “Sure,,I’m on my way!!”, you screamed back, putting your phone down and making your way into the kitchen.

“The cake smells totally amazing!!”, you complimented as you pulled Felix into a tight back hug. The boy giggled,putting both of his hands on yours.”what theme do we want to go for?”, he asked while turning around, so that he can face you. “what about if we try to recreate the latest album cover and draw a group photo on it?”, you suggested.

“But isn’t that kinda complicated?”, Felix asked worried, but you gave him a reassuring smile. “ I mean yeah, it’s not very easy, but if we mess up we just have to eat the cake as quick as possible, so no one sees it” you said jokingly, turning to the cake to star decorating it.

After some time you were finished with decorating, the kitchen was a really big mess, but the cake turned better out than you expected. “Woahhhhh”, Felix let out as he saw the cake. “You’re talent is crazy...like wowww look at that.....”, he immediately pulled out his phone to take a picture of the beautiful decorated cake. “Now i really don’t want to eat that cake, because this artwork of yours is more than amazing”

Seungmin:

You were sick today, so you stayed at home to rest and get healthy again as soon as possible.But as time went by,you started to get really bored, so you decided to look up pictures from your boyfriend and decided to draw him.

Your bed was quickly filled with art supplies, your sketchbook on your thighs as you started to draw. You started with a simple sketch, but it soon turned into a detailed fanart and you even incorporated colors (what you usually don’t do).

After the piece was finally finished, you had to go to the toilet, so you put down the drawing on your bed and rushed into the bathroom. While you were away, Seungmin returned home, bringing your favorite take out food with him.

As he entered your bedroom, he saw the drawing of him on your bed and looked at it for a while. “Why did you print out a picture from me?”, Seungmin asked as you came back. “Huh...what?” You asked confused, until he pointed out your drawing. Your cheeks turned red and you started to giggle. “Minnie, that’s a drawing...”

Jeongin:

You came home from work and found your boyfriend in the living room drawing while talking to his fans in vlive. You gave him a small smile as a greeting and he immediately smiled back at you.

“Do you wanna draw with me?”, he asked while holding up a blank paper. You hesitated at first, but after he gave you a pouting-puppy-stare you gave in and took the paper from his hand, sitting dien behind the camera, facing Jeongin.

He continued to talk with his fans, peeking over to your drawing a few times, but he couldn’t really see what you were doing. Your mind was totally focused on drawing, you haven’t done that in a while,but now that you are drawing again, you remembered how much you loved it and how stress relieving it was.

“I’m done!”,you shout out after a while, holding your paper up to Jeongin, so that he can finally see your drawing,while waiting for his reaction. His jaw dropped open as he looked at the drawing. “Omg look guys!”, he stated while taking the paper from your hands and showing it to the fans,”I didn’t know that you could draw that well!!”. His eyes lingered over the drawing, appreciating every single detail in your drawing,while you were blushing at the cute reaction of your boyfriend.

🖤masterlist

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turtle-steverogers · 4 years

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Steve Rogers’ DC Apartment

OOK so I watched TWS again today and every time I watch it I get intrigued about Steve’s apartment

First OFF this is the concept art for his apartment:

We see posters lining the walls and scattered on the floor, most some variant of Army decor, a rather old fashioned looking fireplace, a brown leather couch with a light wooden coffee table in front of it, a record player in the corner with vinyls strewn on the floor next to it. Everything is simultaneously neat and in place and not entirely unpacked/strewn.

It sort of gives me the impression that he tried to move in completely, but just,,,didn’t

The concept art below holds the same atmosphere of neat, but lived in with more views of posters half hung or left unattended on the floor

Highlights from the above picture:

-the jacket hanging off the chair

-his shield placed haphazardly against the wall

-mail tossed onto his kitchen counter

-pencil and paper left forgotten next to the mail

-Art of War on kitchen table

-Apple computer

-Keys and files carelessly placed on the table

I can picture Steve getting up in the mornings, strolling to his kitchen and grabbing a book along the way, then putting a pot of coffee on and popping some toast in the toaster before parking himself at his kitchen table to do some work

Also, everywhere you look in the apartment, there are books. Like Jesus, just when you think you saw the last of the stacks, there’s another stack somewhere and when you look at this scene in the actual movie, you get a pretty decent assortment of books that all seem fairly on brand for our knowledge of Steve:

In this shot especially, you notice a lot of titles: The Second World War, Madam President, etc. It seems that Steve mostly has political biographies, war encyclopedias, and history anthologies. I bet this is the genre that Steve enjoys most, but every single stack of books can’t all have the same content, so just how much is he reading? What else does he have?

Is he going to old bookstores on weekends, thrifting copies of whatever he can find? Does he spend hours in the shelves, pulling out stacks of whatever catches his eye? Does he recognize a title that maybe Nat or Bruce had suggested and purchase it for the hell of it? Did he take the time to comb through the bestseller lists from each year he was in the ice and decide to use that as a basis to catch up?

Whatever the case may be, Steve is a Hefty Reader.

OK Let’S DELVE deeper in to his actual apartment in the movie

IN the above shot, we see more of those aforementioned book stacks from the concept photos, as well as quite a few unhung frames of artwork. The artwork in particular intrigues me, because Steve himself is an artist, so what kind of art has he chosen for his apartment? Is any of it his own? Like the books, where is he getting the art? Is he going to galleries on weekends as well? Does he support local artists or big names? Are some of them photographs? If so, what of?

And below we can see some more of content he chose to frame, which I couldn’t exactly decipher, but these look a little more like photographs and so far, they seem to be the only ones hung out of the many that he clearly owns. What differentiated these enough for him to choose to hang them? Many thoughts head full

Also his dishes: he clearly doesn’t have a Ton of them, but I suppose, why would he need full sets? It looks like he got the essentials, but again, did he choose what kinds of silver/dishware he wanted? Or was it SHIELD provided?

I always chuckle a little here, because the dishware is so oddly placed-- some of the glasses are upside now, some are right side up and stacked in each other, some of the bowls are stacked, some stand alone. He’s incredibly inconsistent with his organization, but ya know, whatever. You do you, Stevie. It definitely gives the apartment a “I’m 29 and living alone so I do what works well enough” vibe

IN this shot, you can see the vinyls from the concept photos on the floor. Which at least I’m certain Steve picked out entirely himself and now I’m emo thinking about him going to an old record store some time on his own and getting lost in the rows and rows of old vinyls and picking out his favorites and some of Bucky’s favorites, then purchasing a familiar looking record player the first familiar thing in a while and bringing it back to his apartment. I’m just imagining him getting home and deftly slipping a vinyl onto the record player and instantly feeling like he’s simultaneously in 1936 and 2014 all at once, like if he turns around, the skyline will suddenly be what he remembers from before the ice and Bucky will be in the room over, humming along to Glenn Miller

Okay okay so here you can see his record player yah yah AND a radio (with cassettes underneath if you look closely), which definitely was another attempt to make his apartment feel like it used to. At this point, I realized that I didn’t see a TV anywhere, which doesn’t surprise me. He had to go inherently modern in some aspects of his living style, but things he could avoid, I’m sure he did.

Anyway, yah, overall Steve’s apartment gives me the vibe that he was sort of trying to make his place look as close to what he knows from his past as possible. Which, honestly fair.

This was just self indulgent. It's always fun seeing these little humanizing parts of characters-- little slices of life.

#Steve Rogers #captain america #ca:tws #steve rogers' apartment #marvel #marvel shit #steve rogers meta #marvel meta

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eggtoasties · 3 years

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Chapter One: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).

It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.

Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”

To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.

While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.

He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.

He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.

While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.

So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.

Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.

The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.

Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.

“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”

“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”

Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.

“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”

“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.

“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.

“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.

“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.

Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”

Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.

Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.

Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”

“A?”

“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”

Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.

Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.

“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.

Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”

Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.

Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”

Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”

“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”

Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”

Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”

Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”

“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.

Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.

Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”

With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.

“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.

“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”

Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.

Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.

All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.

She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.

Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”

Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.

Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”

After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.

“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”

Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.

He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.

She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.

He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.

At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.

In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.

Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.

“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”

“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.

“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.

Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.

Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.

“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”

Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”

Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.

“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.

Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.

“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”

“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.

Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.

As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.

“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”

To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”

Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.

#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro drabble #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #nekoma high #nekoma haikyuu #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo x y/n

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browniefox · 3 years

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The One with the Motorcycle

@wrightfamilyweek day 4 - Free day! Which I took to mean 'shove my headcanon here'. At first I wanted to do something with Ryuunosuke, but I still haven't finished tgaa so uhhhh sorry my boy. Also, you can find this on AO3 here.

In which Trucy and Phoenix decide they need to find a more reliable method of getting around. Luckily, Phoenix already has a vehicle registered under his name.

oOo

“Does this mean that when I turn sixteen, I’ll get a motorcycle license?”

Trucy skips alongside her Daddy as they walk through the aisles of the storage facility. They pass locked garage after garage. Trucy has always known that her Daddy had somewhere he stores a bunch of stuff that doesn’t fit in the office, the stuff he used to keep in his apartment back when he had one, but this is her first time coming along with him.

There’s been a lot leading up to this. Now that Trucy’s getting a little older, there’s more things she wants to do, or go to, and Daddy seems to be getting a little busier too. He’s started going down to the library more often, and having some kind of meetings for lunch, and getting calls by people Trucy doesn’t know. They’re both getting busy, and buses and taxis only get them so far. Daddy had declared, in an almost resigned-sounding voice after they missed a bus and had to wait underneath the bus stop in the pouring rain for another thirty minutes, that perhaps it was time to find a more reliable method to get around.

“Dessie says she’s running a little late, but she’ll be here soon.” Trucy is in charge of the phone while Daddy frets over the pieces of paper in his hands, crinkling the edges up in his nervous hands.

Daddy doesn’t reply to this either, just keeps walking forward. Trucy frowns to herself. Daddy’s been kind of weird about this whole thing. From getting the Learner’s Permit, to the practice drives and lessons with Desiree, to his final test, but now if anything he seems at his most awkward and strange as they approach the storage unit.

They final come to a stop, and Daddy pulls up the metal door.

If old case files in the office were little glimpses into who Daddy was before Trucy knew him, this place was an in-color photograph.

There’s cardboard boxes with ‘sketchbooks’ scrawled on the front. There’s a dead plant in the corner. There’s a stack of picture frames, an old couch shoved into a corner, and a small wood table with rings from the ghosts of old drinks, a few splashes of paint marring the surface. There’s some art supplies shoved off in a corner that Trucy immediately goes over to, and piles of books Trucy hasn’t read before, and Trucy wants nothing more than to stay here all day and look through everything and anything in sight.

In the middle of the storage unit, however, is what they’ve come here for.

It’s a lilac-colored motorcycle. There’s an unhealthy-layer of dust on it - there’s a layer of dust on everything in the room - and Daddy brushes his hand over the seat and handles, sending a plume of the dust into the air. He starts sneezing and coughing over it and Trucy laughs a little at that. She stops in a moment, though, because of the almost-grim look on Daddy’s face as he stares at the bike.

They’ve been building up to this for months, in reality. Trucy realizes this now, that everything up to this point has been to get this motorcycle out of the garage and back onto the streets, because it was a vehicle Daddy already owns, and he wouldn’t have to go through the hassle nor money involved in getting a new one. But it’s also all conflicted with Daddy’s attempts to distance himself from the past.

Daddy wants to move forward in life, she gets that, but it makes Trucy sad anyway to see how nervous and resigned he’d looked about so much as calling the Delites for help. Like doing that much is losing something.

“So this is Aunt Mia’s bike?” Trucy asks, going over to it as well. She doesn’t know anything about things like this, but it looks like it’s in okay condition. It’s certainly not as shiny as Desiree’s, but it’s not bad.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Sorry I haven’t by.” He says, and she can tell he’s not talking to her. His eyes are fixed on the bike like sometimes he’ll stare at Charley for what seems like hours on end; it’s never for that long, but it feels like it might be at times. He tilts her head to Trucy and explains, “I used to come by and try to keep it clean and stuff, but things have gotten… complicated. I’m sure Mia’s upset I haven’t done more to maintain this since she’s been gone.”

Ah, it’s one of the days where he’s talking about Aunt Mia in the present tense. It’s hard to tell if that’s ever a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe it’s just A Thing he does sometimes. Even after four years, there’s still so much Trucy hasn’t figured out about her daddy. Sometimes, he talks about Aunt Mia as the dead person she is, gone and out of this world, a deceased but loved person, just like Trucy’s mommy was talked about. Other days, though, it’s like he expects Aunt Mia to walk through the door any minute.

“Alright, well, let’s see what we can do before Desiree gets here.”

Daddy’s temporary license, the edges of which are almost torn up by his worrying hands, is set aside on top of the sketchbook box and he grabs a towel from one of the other boxes, setting to work on a more thorough dusting. Trucy searches through Daddy’s phone for the list of what to check for that Desiree had texted him and passes it over to Daddy.

Trucy picks a stool out from the mess of things and rifles through the sketchbook box, finding one and flipping through it. There’s mostly little doodles and the like on the pages, or realistic portraits of faces Trucy doesn’t recognize. She wonders if, were Daddy not so determined to distance himself from the past, she’d know any of them. There is a picture of Miles, and she knows him, so she smiles at that picture and lightly brushes her hand over the pencil markings. Miles looks really angry in the picture, and scribbled right next to him is ‘I’ll save you’.

And Daddy did.

“Alright, let’s see what we have to work with today!”

Desiree announces herself, carrying her own box of tools

“Thought you might not show up for a moment.” Daddy jokes, but it’s one of his hollow-sounding jokes. Desiree laughs anyway.

“Oh please, I’ve been waiting to get a look at this beast for myself ever since you told me about it!” Desiree says and starts going over the bike. She talks about oil and gas and spark plugs and batteries, looking over everything and digging through her stuff and checking things. She says they’re going to need a new battery, and definitely replace just about all of the fluids. Luckily, Desiree is well-capable of doing all of that, she assures them, and they’d be able to get it up and moving enough to get it to her shop where she could do some of the rougher things to do.

“How much do I owe you?” Daddy asks, and Desiree waves her hand.

“We can discuss that later, let’s focus on getting this beauty out of this dusty-old place and back here she belongs, huh?”

Desiree has said that every time, so far, that Daddy asks about price. Trucy can see that it means Desiree doesn’t really want to make Daddy pay for any of it, but it seems to put Daddy more and more on edge every time Desiree says it. He’s waiting for something bad to happen, and his tension over it bleeds into Trucy, even though she’s not worried. Desiree is a nice lady who likes to chat to Trucy and can talk a mile a minute about motorcycles. When she’s not talking about them, she’s talking about her husband, Ron

They walk the bike out of the storage facility, Desiree filling the space with chatter about what the make and model of Aunt Mia’s motorcycle is, and the pluses and minuses of it, and how it’s lucky that it already has a backseat for Trucy. Daddy says that he used to ride with Aunt Mia sometimes, eyes trained on the bike still, as if he expected it to fall apart at a moment’s notice.

Desiree’s red-hot bike is parked out front and she tells them to meet her at her shop. She’ll be able to finish up there, where the rest of her supplies is.

“Don’t worry, she should be able to get you there just fine. And anyway, you can tell me if anything starts sounding worrying!” Desiree says as she climbs onto her bike. It’s been what Daddy has been practicing on, what Daddy even passed his driving test on just yesterday, and the rumble of it had just started to become familiar. Trucy feels like she’s going to miss it, but she’s excited to see how Aunt Mia’s bike works out.

Desiree peels out and leaves Daddy and Trucy standing on the side of the road, Daddy regarding Aunt Mia’s bike like it’s a python that’s going to bite them.

“... maybe this was a bad idea.” Daddy says five months too late.

“You worry too much! C’mon, Dessie’s waiting for us!” Trucy hops next to him, excited to get on the bike. Daddy sighs, turning his helmet over and over in his hands. Trucy has her own, bought a couple months ago, but she hasn’t been allowed on a bike yet. ‘Not until I get my official license’, Daddy had insisted. Now is the time, though.

“But what if something happens? What if I crash, and you get hurt?” He says. Trucy feels a ripple of shock run through her and she looks at Daddy’s face. His expression is grim and an open wound of his emotion. Of worry and fear, “What if I crash and I ruin her bike? What if-”

“Daddy, you’re being dumb” Trucy informs him. Daddy looks at her, and she can already see him starting to close off again, but she steals the last few moments of honesty she can, desperately, “Daddy you can do this, okay? We’re going to be okay. Even if we have to go five miles an hour to get there.”

“I think I’m actually worse at driving slow.” Daddy grumbles. Trucy grabs his hands.

“Then we’ll go really fast. We aren’t giving up on this just because you’re scared.”

Daddy sighs and then ruffles her hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It’d be stupid to give up right now. It doesn’t matter how long it’s going to take.”

They put their helmets on and climb onto the bike. They both hold their breaths when the engine first starts, and then it roars to life. It’s different than Desiree’s although exactly how, Trucy isn’t sure. She wraps her arms around her daddy’s stomach as they get going, keeping her eyes open. She isn’t scared, she can’t be. She needs to seem sure and trusting over this, for his sake, for their sake, so that they can make it through here together.

Things don’t change a lot with Daddy. They’ve lived in the same place for all this time, and Daddy’s worked at the same bar, and Trucy’s worked at the same bar, and they have the same routines day to week to month to year. This is new, this is change, but it’s a good thing.

They roar down the streets for the first time, Daddy is shaking, Trucy can feel it with how tightly she’s holding onto him. The air roars past them, chillingly-cold.

He did this for me, Trucy thinks, and then, no, he did this for us. For family, so that we can keep moving forwards .

If they had stood still, they would’ve been alright with buses and taxis and rides from friends. But they are moving forward in life, they need the ability to do more, be more independent, further their own things.

And help, here they had help, from Desiree, and from the thoughtfulness of Aunt Mia to leave Phoenix to her bike, and Ron had told Trucy before that Phoenix had helped them (Trucy had already known this, she’s read that case and every other case what feels like a thousand times over, her illicit self-read bedtime stories) and that they’d been wanting to do something for the man ever since they heard about The Disbarment.

It’s sort of funny, how independence and getting help seemed to go hand-in-hand.

Trucy and her Daddy roar down the streets, and her grip loosens as she gets more comfortable, and Daddy stops shaking so badly as he gets into his groove, because he’s done this before and has been training and practicing, and he knows how to ride a bike now, and Desiree has taught him how to maintain it, and now, now they are going towards a new normal, a new schedule, a second half of the darkest time of their lives (of course, Trucy doesn’t know this, and neither does her daddy, and now it seems like the shadows is simply where they will always be living) and they prepare to meet it together.

#wrightweek21 #ace attorney #trucy wright #phoenix wright #fanfiction #fanfic #browniefox writes

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onedoodleaday · 3 years

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Review of 6 creative prompt books

Can't get enough prompts? I sure can't! I have a horrible urge to buy any and all books I see that have any sort of theme related to creative prompts, and I've amassed quite the collection over the years.

Today, I'm going to review some of them!

All of the following books are meant to be drawn in directly, which (at least ideally) makes them very satisfying to leaf through once you've worked in them for a while.

I will be making a separate post showcasing how I've personally used each book and link to it here, in case any if them pique your interest and you'd like to know more (coming soon!)

Books I am reviewing:

365 days of art by Lorna Scobie (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️▪️ Four out of five stars)

642 things to draw by chronicle books (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ five out of five stars)

642 fashion things to draw by Chronicle Books (⭐️⭐️⭐️▪️▪️ Three out of five stars)

Doodle a day by Chris Riddell (⭐️⭐️⭐️▪️▪️ three out of five stars)

Hirameki: Draw what you see by Peng and Hu (⭐️⭐️▪️▪️▪️ two out of five stars)

Illistration by Jaime Zollars (⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️▪️ four out of five stars)

Warning: this is a very long post

365 days of art

By Lorna Scobie

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️▪️ Four out of five stars

What I like about it:

There's a great variety of prompts in this one. The prompts are mostly simple and straightforward, with space for doing your own thing. Most of the exercises also happen to appeal to me personally.

The prompts are designed for being able to be completed quite quickly, which makes them very accessible for me, and of course, you can get more elaborate with them if you have the time and energy (I've spent the last five days adding details to fish, just because I wanted to).

The author uses the foreword to encourage you to use the book in whatever way you personally find the most fun, which I appreciate.

Most of the prompts feel like they're focusing on practice rather than results, which means it's open for all skill levels to enjoy.

Criticism:

While I do hold that this book can work for artists of all skill levels, it does have prompts that are meant to teach you something, and while I like some of them, there are some that feel targeted towards either less experienced artists, or artists who has, or strives towards, a similar art style to that of the author. A couple of times, I have felt that my art style did not match the exercise set up, and while I still managed to have fun with them, I did wish there were more space for (in my case) a more realistic art style.

On a similar note, there are sections geared towards calligraphy, and they start at the very basics. While I personally am a beginner, I can imagine that someone with experience would find these bits both boring and redundant.

I will also mention that the book does encourage the use of different kinds of media, so you either have to be ready to break out some different tools or bend the prompts a bit if all you have is a pencil.

Recommended for beginner and intermediate artists, people who really like prompt books. Good for a little bit of daily practice with many different styles of art. Good for people who like patterns and colours in their art.

Recommended tools: brush pen, water-based paint, coloured pencils

642 things to draw

By chronicle books

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ five out of five stars

Of all the prompt books I have, this is my favorite. Hands down.

What I like about it:

This book is just prompts. No hand-holding, no presets for what to do with it, they just give you something to draw and you go from there. All you need is a pencil and your imagination. There are both straightforward prompts (a bottle opener, a spool of thread) and more abstract ones (girlish laughter, head in the clouds) and the variety means I usually find at least one prompt I want to do on each spread.

The differing sizes dedicated to each prompt make for a really fun and pleasing result.

I also appreciate that this book is completely open to all skill levels, as long as you're willing to give a go at drawing a lot of different things.

Criticism:

While I personally adore the to-the-point, straightforward prompts, I do acknowledge that, unless you enjoy just drawing random objects, you're going to need to add some creativity on your own, in how you incorporate the prompts. I personally like adding either character interaction or to use the object as part of a scene, especially for the things I don't find super visually interesting on their own. I personally enjoy the level of thinking, but I'm sure there are people who don't.

I also don't know if I would have enjoyed it as much when I was just starting out. I’ve always been quite result-based with my art, and while I think using reference to draw all the different things in the book would be an amazing skill-building exercise, it also sounds like a lot of work.

There are also a handful of pop culture references and prompts for famous people, which I personally prefer to avoid, because those are often based on social knowledge and interest, of which I personally have neither.

Recommended for artists of all skill levels, people who either have a big visual library or would like to build one. Recommended for people who like to draw a lot of different things.

Recommended materials: anything! Can be used with just a pencil

642 fashion things to draw

By Chronicle Books

⭐️⭐️⭐️▪️▪️ Three out of five stars

This one was actually my first prompt book ever! The start of a hoard, one might say.

What I like about it:

This one is another one by Chronicle Books, in the same series. This one is really fun if you like drawing clothes, and/or your art is character oriented. Of all my prompt books, this one has the best potential for fanart, in my opinion. If you like drawing people and characters, this book is really fun

Criticism:

This one is, quite understandably, more specific. If you like drawing clothes, this one is ideal. If you don't ... don't pick this one.

I was close to giving this one four stars, but I will withdraw a star for being very specifically tailored to one subject -- this could be a five star book for some people and a one-star for others.

Another thing I want to mention is that this book gets specific. I have to look up what about a third of the prompts mean. I'm okay with that, but if you don't want to do research and don't already know what a jaquard blouse or peplum waist skirt or houndstooth is, this is not the book for you.

Lastly, it has a good handful of both pop culture references and references to different brands, which is kind of alienating to me personally. It also assumes that you yourself care about your own clothes to some extent. And that you have at least one father and one mother. Who got married at some point. And your mom wore a wedding dress. Things like that.

Also my copy is from 2013 and let's just say some of the references have aged very poorly. ("D*nald Tr*mp power suit" being a very notable example. I drew him impaled on a stick. Which was satisfying. But it was very much an act of rebellion so keep it in mind)

Recommended for anyone who likes drawing clothes and the people wearing them, who are also willing to put up with a certain amount of heteronormativity in their prompt books. Some skill level will probably make the book more enjoyable. Clothes are hard.

Recommended materials: Anything! You can use this one with just a pencil

Doodle a day

By Chris Riddell

⭐️⭐️⭐️▪️▪️ three out of five stars

(Note: I own a translated version of the book; this is the danish cover)

Before we start, I would like to note that this book's target demographic is children. I’m not a children, I just thought it looked fun. And I was right! But do keep it in mind.

What I like about it:

This one doesn't take itself too seriously. Which means that in places, it gets wacky. And I appreciate that. It expects a child's untamed creativity and wish to go along with whatever.

A lot of the prompts are really fun and inspiring for me as an adult. There are a lot of "complete this drawing" sort of things that get me to draw things I don't usually draw.

It's nice to see a book geared towards children that dares to have a very detailed and complex art style. Whether you personally like Chris Riddell's art style is very subjective, but he's good at what he does.

Criticism:

You have to enjoy drawing along with what the author enjoys. We're talking robots and fairy tales and dancing bears. This book has less room for letting you steer the prompts in a direction that you personally like, which is good if you like to be told exactly what to draw. It is less good if, like me, you prefer your prompt-based art to have space for a lot of your own creativity and preferences.

I've personally marked down the prompts I want to do with tape, and I'm planning to just plain skip the rest. This means about two thirds of the book that I'm just not planning on using. I'm okay with this! But I want to mention it.

The book also contains quite a lot of 'free days', which I always find disappointing. I came here specifically because I didn't want to make up my own stuff. Please. Tell me what to do, I beg of you.

I will also note that this book assumes that you have some sort of family that are present in your life to the point that you want to include them in your drawings, and that you have at least one friend who wants to partake in certain of the prompts.

It also assumes cultural Christianity, having prompts for easter and christmas and halloween and so forth, with no other holidays mentioned. It's a little uncomfortable.

Recommended for people who like silly prompts and are very adaptable in their art. Probably really good for younger kids? I was a weird child, so my point of view might be skewed. Decide for yourself if this book is worth getting for you or someone you know!

Recommended materials: something to draw with, and something to colour with.

Hirameki: Draw what you see

By Peng and Hu

⭐️⭐️▪️▪️▪️ two out of five stars

The classic exercise of using vague blobs and turning them into drawings

What's I like about it:

The concept is really good. The idea of having a whole book of printed blobs to turn into drawings is so fun and appealing to me, as someone who loves having things in books.

I really like that they have certain categories and themes, to make things a little different. I love the idea of having a theme for a whole page of blobs (turning everything on one page into birds, for example), and what made me get the book was specifically that they have pages with just the same blob ten times over, and the challenge is then to make them all into different things.

Criticism:

This book is the marketable brand flavor of prompt books, trying to be what mindful colouring books did, but with another concept, preferably in a way they can copyright.

They're clearly trying to make pattern-making into a marketable invention rather than something that has been around since, like, literal prehistoric times. This would be little more than annoying and could probably be ignored, if it wasn't for the fact that the blobs aren't even ... random.

The creativity is killed, because these blobs are clearly made to look like certain things. Which is the opposite of the point, of the shapes-in-randomness exercise. They don't do this with every page, but it is, like. More than half. The page dedicated to faces have defined noses and necks. There’s a beach themed spread and the crabs have defined pincers.

I had the most fun on the intro pages, where there were no prompts, because that was the place where the blobs were truly random. These were not meant to be drawn on! They were decorations! I just did it anyway!

This is branded to be something that will allow you to be creative, but in reality, it is actually just a different way of playing connect-the-dots. And there's nothing wrong with connect-the-dots, but I was advertised something else and I'm disappointed.

Also, this is personal pettiness, but if you're going to make a gimmick out of every prompt rhyming, you have to actually know how to rhyme. "Gadget" and "uplug it" do not rhyme! Not even by a stretch!

I cannot recommend this book. The idea is good, and some of the pages I did enjoy filling out, but I would have gotten more out of just grabbing a blank sketchbook and adding some ink blots to every page, then started from one end.

Recommended materials: They specifically say that you have to use a pen that’s either blue or black. I used a bright red one just to be a contrarian.

Illistration

By Jaime Zollars

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️▪️ four out of five stars

This one is a little different -- it is essentially a make-your-own-prompts book!

What I like about it:

This book appeals right to my need to be part of the process, even when drawing for prompts. Basically, this book is all about producing creative lists of things to draw, and then illustrating your favorites.

I love how the author talks you through their process of creating each individual list to suit their own preferences, and encourages you to do the same, to create prompts that appeal directly to you.

I also really appreciate that this book fully assumes that the reader is just as capable as the author. It wants to teach you something, sure, but it doesn't outright assume that you've got more or less experience than the author. They're teaching you one specific way of generating ideas and that's what matters. The author is confident, but humble. I like that.

Criticism:

Honestly, this is a wonderful book. I wouldn't change anything about it. The only reason I subtracted a star is because it falls a little bit outside the category of a prompt book. It's a five-star book for what it is, but if you're just here to be told what to draw without having to make stuff up on your own, this one is not for you.

I can't just pull this one out, open it up and start drawing -- using this book is a project. I have to do at least half of the work myself, if not more. And I personally have fun with that, but it has to be noted.

Recommended for artists of any skill level, who like to generate their own unique ideas. This is the one I would be most likely to recommend to a dedicated artist, or a professional.

Recommended materials: whatever you prefer to draw with, and something to write with.

-------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading!

If you found this review helpful and want to fund me and my constant purchasing of prompt books, you can tip me on TheNearsightedMicroraptor on Ko-fi!

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troop-scoop · 4 years

Text

Youth I

Chapter One - Pilot

Word count: 2k

Series Summary: On a family trip to your dad’s home town of Hawkins, Indiana, you make a series of decisions that result in you ending up in the year 1983 with more questions than there are answers presently available.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader ( slow burn )

Chapter Summary: You go through what’s become your new ‘normal’ at Hawkins High School

⟛⟛

Nothing about your current situation was settling right in your stomach. There were no answers as to how you got here, and you didn’t have any questions that could easily be answered. A series of unfortunate events resulted in the attitude you carried. You used to be sweet, all smiles and laughter unless someone did something to make you upset.

What happened to that girl? The girl who grew up never experiencing fear to the point where it worried her parents and made teachers concerned because she’d climb so high on the playground that if you fell, you’d surely break something.

You’d climbed so high on something, and you fell into this situation, and something did break. Your bravery, your fearlessness, nothing physical, but those two things were shattered, and your ego bruised.

Nothing was like what you were used to. To you, everything in this school hallway was dated. The fashion, the haircuts, the textbooks, and the tech.

The stereotypes.

“L/n!”

You shook your head, already knowing whose voice that was. A teenage boy who fit the typical ‘jock’ stereotype that everyone knew. The kid who hated his small town, he got around, played a sport his father probably hated, who would likely never get out of said small town he hated. Yeah, you knew the pattern. Everyone, where you were from, did.

“No.”

You continued on your trek to the locker, but you could hear the slight squeaking of the soles of the older boy’s Nikes on the linoleum floor trying to catch up. Where you were from, people would be staring at this type of occurrence, but because none of the students surrounding you even batted an eye at the basketball player or you for that matter, told you that it wasn’t abnormal for him to be audacious.

“Hey now, I just wanna talk.” He defended, finally catching up to you, walking alongside, but a little bit behind so he didn’t get in anyone’s way.

“Harrington, the last time you wanted to ‘talk’ was when you needed my math homework.” A chuckle escaped you as you said it, finally stopping at your locker.

“In my defense, you don’t look like a sophomore.” He tried, standing next to you as you were spinning the knob in the locker to get it open.

“Whatever, what do you want?”

“Wow, you’re grumpy. Anyways, Tommy H, Carol, and I wanna hang out but my parents don’t leave for another week, and we can’t be at Carol’s place because her mom hates Tommy, and well, you know how Tommy’s dad is.”

You hummed in amusement. “Yeah, he’s a dick, how does that involve me?” You had your binder and pencil case in one arm, staring at him with your hand inside of your locker, holding onto the cup of coffee.

“Can we hang out at your place?”

Rolling your eyes you kneeled down, placing your things down on the ground before standing upright, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling it towards your locker, placing it inside before closing the door on it. “Not happening.” You responded, a bright smile on your face as you grabbed your things, taking a step to walk away.

“Y/n! This isn’t funny!”

“I’m gonna correct you on that, it’s not funny to you.” The situation was probably the funniest thing you’d encountered in weeks, and considering your day to day life before used to be full of laughter and playfully teasing, that then went to quiet days spent alone and pondering, this was a nice change.

“Unlock it or I’ll tell Mrs. Jensen!”

Steve’s threat caused you to laugh, holding your things closer so you didn’t drop any of them. “A tattletale? You always did strike me as the type to tease kids in elementary school, but you never did seem like a snitch, you do know the saying right? About snitches?”

“Yeah, from you!” he responded, and although he had a serious face, you knew he was fighting back a smile as well by his voice and how his brows weren’t furrowed in frustration or anger.

“Snitches are bitches, who get stitches and end up in ditches.” it wasn’t intentional for both of you to say it at the same time, but you had, but in two very different tones of voice. Your’s was more ‘matter of fact’ and he was amused.

You stared at him for a second, your smile remaining before you stepped forward, turning the dial of your lock to open it, and once you lifted the lever for the door, Steve got himself out, standing up straight and staring down at you, his hands finding the pockets of his jacket as you closed the locker door again. “That wasn’t fair, you look innocent,” he mumbled to himself.

“I’ll see you later?” Steve asked after a second.

“We have study hall together, so. . . maybe,” you told him, stepping away from the locker and heading down the hallway to your English class.

Bulletin boards on the walls, spaced out between each other, with thumbtacks keeping flyers and announcements up for students to see, lockers for students to keep their things throughout the day. It was all odd.

At your previous schools, lockers weren’t available. That was until your freshman year where you had to pay five dollars a year if you wanted one. And instead of bulletin boards, flyers and announcements would just be taped to the walls, or given during morning announcements, or emailed to students and parents. You were pretty sure your previous high school got rid of lockers in the late ’90s when drugs became prominent in your area and then got rid of bulletin boards when one student sent the other to the hospital with a thumbtack to the wrist, but those types of stories always had a few details in them that never made sense, allowing you to cast doubt on them. But maybe the story had just been told so many times that detail got twisted, the truth of what happened got misconstrued. Like a game of telephone.

Reaching the English classroom, you found your seat, with your anxiousness rising as you sat down, placing your coffee at the upper corner of your small desk, keeping your school supplies close to your chest.

You’d been a happy kid growing up. You didn’t have very many friends, but you had your parents, your little brother, and a condo that you’d been brought home to as a newborn that you knew was a safe place. Unlike the few friends you did have, you never really experienced anxiety or symptoms of depression, but you knew the signs, your closest friend, Mandy, dealt with it, and she confided in you often about how it felt and what it was like, and you often did your own research on it to know what you could to help her.

There were weekends where you spent a good few hours learning different breathing techniques to help her whenever she would have a panic attack, but now that you were dealing with moments where your heart sped up, your hands shook and you felt like something was terribly wrong, it was like all of those hours had been a waste because you couldn’t use them without getting more anxious.

“You okay?”

Looking to your left, you were met with a curious glance from your partner on the English project. Giving an unconvincing nod, you looked down at the top of your desk, eyes tracing over the wood pattern, lines connecting that looked like they shouldn’t, forming shapes and allowing you to distract yourself as Jonathan set his things down as well, taking his seat next to you.

Mrs. Jensen went over the usual, giving instructions for the project that everyone already knew, before leaving everyone to work, with her sitting behind her desk, a book in hand and a container of what you assumed were grapes by the purplish color. Though they could have been large blueberries.

“What’s so important about a quote?” Jonathan mumbled to himself, though it caught your attention from your own worksheet, looking over to him.

“In what context?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink as he began speaking.

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet, everyone knows what it’s about, you don’t really need a quote to explain things.”

You nodded when he looked over to you. “A lot of people only really know that it was written by Shakespeare and it’s about two star crossed lovers who kill themselves in the end. Mrs. Jensen probably knew that’s all anyone really remembers, she wants to make sure people know what’s actually happening.

“It’s pretty obvious, ‘Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?’ she’s asking where he is.” He shrugged a bit, placing the book down on the desk, pages open and light reflecting off of the glossy pages.

“No, she’s not,” you told him, getting an odd and questioning look from him. “Well, this was written in the 1500s, English is practically a new language at that point, getting its own footing for once, paintings of historical figures wouldn’t have the English spelling of their names, and English is a language that’s taken a bunch of different parts from other languages, mostly german. If you ever see a period piece that’s set around this period of time, if a child says ‘lady mother’ when they’re addressing their mom, they’re not acknowledging that their mother is a female. They’re acknowledging her title. So her husband is likely a lord of a piece of land, which makes her the lady of that land as well. It was an archaic way of showing respect to their mother by also saying she had a title.”

“How does that relate to the quote?”

“Well, early modern English had many different phrases, and things have changed, we’ve come up with ways to say things that are far more simple. While we think she’s asking where Romeo is, she’s actually asking why he’s Romeo. Why out of all the people she could have fallen for, it had to be him. The enemy. You could use that in the analysis, a bit of how it shows we don’t choose who we love, even if we know we shouldn’t love them.”

Jonathan blinked before looking at his worksheet, picking up his pencil and writing something down, paraphrasing what you had just said and only moments later the bell rang, signaling the end of the class period.

You grabbed your things, leaving as quickly as you could without looking like an idiot, trying to get away from what caused you to be so nervous and make you feel like you could be sick at any moment.

Growing up, you weren’t afraid of many things if any. But maybe you just needed something like this to make you afraid of everything and anything around you. To make you jump at the sound of a drop of water from outside your motel window landing on the metal railing of the stairs and walkway.

But you were terrified, and you wanted to wake up in your own bed, at home, with your dad gently shaking your shoulder to get you up and out of bed. You were terrified you’d never see your parents again, that you’d been too mean to your little brother growing up, and that the last memory he’d have of you was you being mean.

You hadn’t even been afraid to sleep on your own as a kid, and all the things that you weren’t afraid of as a child that you should have been, always seemed to worry your dad. But what would he say and think now? Would he be worried now that you lived in a constant state of fear? Just looking at clothing racks scared you.

Since July you’d been trying to act normal, trying to pretend everything was okay, trying to be your normal self, but your normal self would be odd to everyone else, you knew random things no one else did, you liked things no one even knew about yet, and if you tried to talk about those things, you knew it wouldn’t be a good outcome, not a sour one, but not happy.

⟛⟛

Add yourself to the taglist!

tagging who i know would want to be -

@stonersteve @ilovebucketbarnes

#steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you

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ikevamp-annalyne · 4 years

Note

Hey! Can i request for a fluffy hc for ikevamp (if all are too many, prioritize Comte Leo Arthur Theo Vincent plz♡) of the suitors comforting MC who suffers from test anxiety? The MC could be smart and determined but lacking in confidence in herself/having a fear of failure. Tysm in advance and no rush! I luv ur writing 😊😊

Hello there! “ヽ(´▽｀)ノ” thank you so much for your request! Here is my take on your idea heheh

Napoleon:

"Nunuche, why are you crying?" Napoleon asks while you are fidgeting over your text book and crying your eyes out. You explain about your upcoming test and how anxiety is eating you alive. Napoleon knows you are very clever so he doesn't see why you are so nervous. Nervertheless, he will comfort you, bring you coffee and snacks he made himself. And he will also cuddle you to reduce the anxiety, even making you study.

Mozart:

He is taken aback and thinks you are exaggerating at first: you are clever so why are you so nervous? He will probably scold you a bit, worsening your tears. But then, upset and mad at him, you tell him that he is exactly like you! Getting all anxious when he is giving new performances. So he thinks it back because you are right. Thus he will give you breathing tips, relaxing techniques, chocolates to feel better, and of course kisses.

Leonardo:

When you are anxious and eaten alive by your fear, Leonardo is very caring. He knows how anxiety can be a hassle to handle. So he offers studying sessions -at times, he tutors you-, relaxing and breathing techniques, he makes you snack, leaves Lumiere with you so that his purrs calm you down. However, you know what? Papi Leonardo is a pervert for you. So, stress-relieving sex. Yes. And cuddles, kisses, sweet pleasuring sessions.

Arthur:

Arthur knows anxiety very well since he suffers from it a lot. He will recognise anxiety signs early on and make sure to help you out however he can! Need some coffee? He is on it. Need to be alone? He lets you use his room and desk to study while wandering in the mansion -he is actually behind the door in case you need him, writing his story on the floor-. Need a hug? He guves them freely! He also gives you breathing techniques.

Vincent:

Sweet baby is so sad about you being anxious, crying because of how afraid you are are to fail. It hurts him since he knows how clever you are, how amazing you will do at your tests! So he just stays there, comforting you, making you the sweetest speeches to get you to calm down and cuddling you while you are studying, tying up your hair in buns, kissing your nape, pouring you water, and just him being next to you makes you feel calmer.

Theodorus:

At first, insensitive babe in the sense that he doesn't get why you are so nervous. You are his clever hondje so of course, you won't fail! But when you break into tears in front of him after having shouted at him how much of an insensitive jerk he's being, he will frown but then hug you and apologise. He will bring stacks of pancakes and liters of maple syrup. You have a binge-eating pancake session to get you to relax.

Isaac:

Anxiety is his second name. So he knows damn too well how to cope with it. What works for him is studying in a quiet place, alone, with his thoughts only and some tea. It doesn't work that well for you, but studying with him does! He explains very well and is very patient with you. Being in his room alone with him with some tea, only the sound of your pencils scratching on paper calms you down and makes you feel more confident.

Jean:

Oh baby doesn't know how to help! He is illetterate and has never known the anxiety of studying and failing a course -he has only known the fear of war, so not the same-. He will listen to you rant, then will wipe your tears away, will do your chores to give you more studying time -making Sebastian beg for your exam to quickly end...- He will bring snacks, pillows, water, even paper and pencils, books and anything you need.

Dazai:

He tries to make you laugh. When he sees you crying or fidgeting and basically losing your mind over your exam, he will act as a clown and do the clumsiest and dumbest crap ever to relieve your tension. Tripping on his bed sheets, bumping against the table, falling from the window -inside, not outside, no suicidal thoughts around you-; he even arrived one day with a pancake on his head saying it was the latest fashion...

William:

Oh he lives for tragedies and anxiety and basically any human negative emotion. He will use you as a muse for his art, making poems out of your despair. You hit him, cry your frustration out and throw things at him -but not heavy things, mostly your pens and paper balls-. And you feel stragely calm after this. He smiles and tells you getting violent can help with anxiety -Will is a masochist for me, change my mind-

Comte:

Sweet Mama Comte is so caring. He will hug you, pat your head, hold your hand and whisper sweet comforting words while giving you days off and preparing a studying room just for you. He will buy anything you need, be it paper or pencils or a music player -even if he has to go to the future for it!- And if you need some relaxing activities, he buys you some succulents or plants to water and he will leave Time with you for cuddles.

Sebastian:

He gives you days off and does anyrhing for you: cooking, preparing tea or coffee, bringing pillows and blankets, crafting stress-relieving balls for you to squish, forbidding any resident to bother you. Only he is allowed next to you for jugs, kisses, cuddles, head pats, hair caressing, wiping your tears away and hand holding. What he loves to do is cuddling with you under a blanket fort while you are reading your notes -he can calm you down with kisses-.

I hope you liked it and that it is not too repetitive ^^"

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp theo #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp jean #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp william #ikevamp comte #ikevamp sebastian

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conbonindustries · 3 years

Photo

Greetings from Amsterdam Some More

Unfortunately for this blog, I have been lazier than ever on this trip. Typically a vacation across the world would involve intense planning on my part, lots of predetermined activities and meals and precise timing of in-depth itineraries. But because it’s COVID, we’re playing it a little by ear, making reservations day-of. That lackadaisical attitude has carried over to posting and capturing of everything around me, and though the photos I have are numerous...they are not copious, as would be my usual.

Walking the streets and stopping to capture hollyhocks, stone stoops, doors, flower boxes and a genuinely charming view across the canal is still the name of the game, however. Especially the little vignettes that keep popping up – one bike parked and not locked in front of a million-euro row house; a bench with books piled high out in the rain without a care; the contrast of an inky blue enameled door against bright yellow daisies at a florist. The city center is weirdly storybook-perfect, alive with signs of every day life and people who live a casual elegance as their version of mundane.

Not to mention the weather being low 60s and cloudy every day. Couldn’t have asked for better atmosphere than mother nature’s version of central AC.

On the third day here – the day after the Rijksmuseum – we walked to an art supply store and I bought myself a hefty collection of really nice Caran D’Ache colored pencils. The feeling that my personal souvenir from this city should be art-related was really strong, but also I was dying to draw something. I am still going to draw some of these row houses and perhaps even turn them into paintings, but while Jason was at the office one evening, I broke in the pencils drawing one of the flower pots I’d seen earlier in the day. I’m not GREAT at colored pencil but I really loved the precision and versatility I could achieve that, unlike watercolor, is completely within my control. This little sketch pad is A3-sized. So a postcard, really.

In addition to the photos of streets and houses, I have been trying to pay attention to the way people act and dress. This part of the city is a 50/50 mix of tourists and locals. The locals are easy to spot: chic clothing mostly composed of a clean, fitted pant, tucked-in tee or tailored white shirt, and a jacket that makes perfect sense for rain or chill, but doesn’t feel too heavy like a winter coat. Lots of blue, white, khaki, black and military green. Effortless but not a uniform. A little like an identity in fashion for a whole place.

And I think I came here expecting the Dutch to be really blunt – almost rudely so – but that hasn’t been the case! Surprise! That said...the service has been lackluster at almost every restaurant. I think it’s an ‘impatient American’ thing. Or at least I hope it is, otherwise Amsterdammers have set their expectations dramatically lower than necessary.

As for today, we saw two cultural institutions: the Anne Frank House, which was moving and thoughtful and just really frightful given the political climate in the U.S. right now, and Vincent meets Rembrandt at the Noorderkerk, which was also very thoughtful but not at all moving in the same way. I have photos from both and they deserve their own post. But between those two activities, it was a full day of being out and about. My feet have begun to protest being used, and they have a point.

The plan for tomorrow is to find something to do outside the center of the city and then meet some of Jason’s co-workers for dinner. I hope to have more than just city streets to share by the next time I write about it on this trip...but until then, get a load of the photos I did share! Wish I could put up more than 10...maybe Tumblr will work on that. Dank je wel!

#amsterdam #Conbon Industries #travel #photography

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rhyolight · 4 years

Note

Well, I do remember one of the asks I sent. I wanted to know how the creepypastas would react to being trapped in a submarine deep in the ocean together. (probably either Jeff’s or Toby’s fault they end up there in the first place. If you’d like you can come up with how it probably happened) also can we give bloody painter some attention please -ゆう

I’m glad that this ask went through, and I’d be happy to add in the bloody painter! I hope that this is good, I realized that I have forgotten about the bloody painter quite a bit, so I tried to make him pretty important to the story. I hope you enjoy! I know that I initially thought that this would take me a day or two, but I’m not tired so I finished it now. Something that you may notice is that I did not write Toby with his tics, and while I acknowledge that they are an important part of his character, I didn’t write them as I don’t feel that I have a firm enough grasp on how to write tourettes, and I didn’t want to accidentally offend anyone if I got something very wrong I am doing my research to make sure that I can write it respectfully, but as of now I don’t think that I am fully capable of writing an accurate representation.

How did they get here? Well, it probably was Toby’s fault, or as he’d tell Tim, only 50% his fault. Because

“Jeff started it!”

According to Toby, Jeff told him that Tim wanted him to steer the submarine to the right. It was an absurd lie of course, as Toby had strictly been banned from the control room by Tim himself. So somehow the submarine had gone deeper, only to get wedged under a rocky ledge on the bottom of the ocean floor. The pressure from the depth was starting to give Tim a headache, and Toby’s blubbering certainly didn’t help. He snapped at Toby to go gather the others and bring them to the dinning room for a “meeting,” although the way he said it meant that it would mostly consist of Tim yelling. Still, Toby rushed out of the room, eager to escape Tim’s wrath, if only for a moment.

When they were all gathered together, it only became apparent how problematic this could be. Many of the pastas had been grumpy about attending the meeting, Helen complained that his paint would dry, Ben fretted that his computer would somehow break in his absence, and there was an overall air of discomfort.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we're stuck.”

Tim stated, only conforming what had been suspected. A few began to ask questions, but Tim cut them off.

“Apparently Jeff told Toby that I told him to go steer the submarine, despite him being banned from the control room unless he was the last person left alive.”

“But Jeff said it was an emergency!”

Toby burst out, but to his dismay, the others only rolled their eyes.

“And were you the last person alive?”

Tim snarled, his temper flaring,

“Well, no, but jeff said-”

“I don’t care what Jeff said the point is we're stuck!”

Toby galred at Jeff who was smirking, but he felt a twinge of satisfaction when Tim turned to Jeff.

“Why did you tell Toby to go there? What on earth made you think that would be a good idea?”

Jeff shrugged,

“I didn’t think he’d be dumb enough to do it.”

Toby stood up, about to interject, but at that point the room seemed to erupt in yelling. Everyone had something to say, and nobody wanted to wait their turn. Tim kept yelling, trying to get everyone to calm down, but it only made things worse as the situation grew more chaotic. A few of the quieter pastas, Helen, Sally, and Jack, slipped out of the room, as the noise was getting to be too much. Toby could tell that Liu was gone as well, with Sully in his place, judging by the way he was yelling. The noise was getting to be too much for Toby as well, so when he saw Brian follow the others he headed after him.

He walked through the twisting halls of the submarine, walking quietly, he didn’t want to be told to go away. He found the others in the room of a very annoyed bloody painter. Helen glared at him irritably as he walked in the door, he had clearly meant to escape the mess so he could paint in peace, but Jack and Brian were sitting on the floor, with Sally facing them on the bed. As he walked in the door, the others gave him an annoyed look, he pretended not to see it, and he sat down next to Sally, the springs in the mattress creaking under his weight.

“Do you really have to be here?”

Helen asked, swishing a paintbrush in a jar of water to clean it. Brian shrugged, and Helen turned back to his art without another word. The swishing of the brush was the only thing that filled the silence until Toby spoke up,

“So, what exactly are we going to do?”

Brian sighed, leaning his chin on his hands.

“Well, we have to get the submarine unstuck somehow, and you can’t reason with Tim when he gets like this.”

He didn’t have to elaborate. They all knew that the normally level headed Tim would not listen to reason when he lost his temper. So it was up to them. Toby wanted to help, he really did, especially since he felt responsible, but he didn’t know anything about any sort of technology, much less submarines, thus the reason he had been banned from the control room.

“Well if Toby hadn't touched the controls maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess and I could paint in peace.”

Helen snapped, breaking the silence as he slammed his paintbrush down angrily.

”I’m sorry,”

Toby whispered,

“I really didn't mean to break anything.”

“Well, the damage has been done.”

Jack pointed out,

“Arguing over who did it won’t help us now.”

Brian looked up,

“Jack’s right, and if we don;t figure out something soon we’ll be in trouble. We could run out of food, or the submarine could start to leak.”

This seemed to make Sally nervous, and her legs began to swing, hitting the sides of the bed with a thunk thunk sound. Toby reached out a hand to stop her before the noise annoyed Helen. Brian looked up and noticed the young girl’s distress.

“Sally, why don’t you go to your room? I promise we’ll get everything figured out.”

She nodded and got up slowly, then fled, clutching her bear in her hand as her feet padded down the hall. Once she was out of earshot, Brian’s expression turned grave.

“I haven’t been to see the damage myself, but from the way Tim’s yelling it’s pretty bad.”

Toby nodded in agreement, he remembers the sickening jerk as the submarine had halted, accompanied by a loud scraping sound. That was what had led Tim to investigate and discover Toby in the control room.

“Should we go inspect the damage?”

Brian asked, rising to his feet. Toby nodded as he stood, and Jack rose as well. After a bit of nagging, they persuaded Helen to come with them as well, but he insisted on grabbing his sketchbook because he worried that they would be boring.

As they walked, Toby noticed that Jack now walked with confidence. At first, he had walked around the boat making high pitched whistles and clicks as a form of echolocation, and while it had been annoying, it was impressive. Toby had tried it once, only it hadn’t worked and he’d run face first into a wall.

As they got towards the end that had gotten stuck, the temperature seemed to drop and the air grew damp.

“That’s a bad sign.”

Brian muttered under his breath, and they picked up the pace, walking quickly towards the now apparent sound of dripping water. They stepped into the room, and the others seemed to shiver. The air was significantly colder, and the source of the problem was obvious. The top was dented, and a few small cracks had appeared, just barely visible, you wouldn’t have known they were there had there not been the dripping of water slowly forming puddles on the floor.

Jack let out a chirp towards the water pooling on the floor and frowned, he obviously didn’t like whatever information he had gathered. Helen, who somehow managed to look exceedingly bored with the whole ordeal, was standing a few steps away, drawing. Toby fidgeted, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater ad Brian stepped closer, craning his neck to get a better look at the ceiling. The water kept dripping a Brian turned abruptly.

“We need to find a way to stop the leak. The rocks are wedged tightly against the side, they’re helping keep the water out, once we move the submarine who knows how much water will leak in.”

As he turned and began to leave the room, Toby and Jack following close behind, Helen held up his sketchbook for the others to see. Complex diagrams had been drawn, ones that Toby recognized from the control room, as well as a sketch of the puddles the water dripping from the ceiling. He gave the book to Jack, and Toby noticed that he had used the lead of his pencil to create ridges on the edges of the drawing. Jack ran his finger over the diagrams, but what he learned from them was a mystery to Toby. Jack nodded before silently handing the book back to Helen, who closed it and tucked it under his arm.

“Well, what do you think? You did take a few classes in engineering once, didn’t you?”

Brain asked. Jack frowned deeply thinking,

“I did, but it was a long time ago,”

he muttered.

“I’m not sure how much I’ll remember.”

“Well do your best, our lives may depend on it.”

Jack nodded, but by that point Brian was already out the door, walking swiftly down the hall towards the closet where they kept everything that they could possibly need for repairs. Ben caught up to them as they reached the door.

“Tim sent me to find you, do you think you can fix it?”

“We can try.”

Ben nodded,

“Once the submarine is patched, I’m going to try to steer us out. The computers got messed up in the crash, but I think I can hold it together if you can keep this thing watertight.”

Toby looked down at his feet guiltily as Ben raced back towards the control room. Brian rummaged along the shelves, Helen whispering to Jack, describing what there was available. At first, Toby was hopeful. Maybe Jack could fix the submarine and Ben could get them home, and once Tim calmed down all would be forgiven, but his hopes began to fade as Jack’s frown deepened. Helen seemed to be growing impatient.

“Surely there must be something here that you can use.”

He snapped.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one here?”

Luckily, Jack didn’t seem to be bothered by Helen’s comment, as he was more focused on running his hands along the materials on the shelves.

“I practice medicine, not mechanics, and while it’s true that I did take a few classes in engineering, I was never taught how to fix a submarine.”

Yet his calm,only added to the bloody painter’s annoyance. He began grabbing things and shoving them into the arms of Brian, Jack, and Toby.

“Here, duct tape and super glue. It’ll fix anything.”

He muttered. Jack didn’t look so sure, but they didn’t seem to have anything better, so they grabbed all that they could carry and took off running. Helen came a minute later with a ladder resting on his shoulder, and the group raced down the halfway, their footsteps echoing desperately. When they reached the damaged room, the puddle had nearly doubled in size. Helen sloshed through it to the center, and he began to unfold the ladder and Jack began instructing Brian on what to do.

“I’d prefer to do it myself, but this is new to me, and you can see, I can’”

Brain looked hesitant, but there was no way that they would get Helen up there, meaning Toby was the only other option, and seeing as he was the reason they were stuck, it didn’t come as a surprise when nobody asked him to help. Instead, he grabbed some tape and glue and climbed up after Brian, their footsteps clanging on the rungs. He figured that he could at least help by holding the supplies while Brian worked.

Brian took off his hoodie and began to use it to dry some of the water, more leaked in, but he got off as much as he could. Then he began to spread glue around the cracks before sealing everything with duct tape. They added on more layers, and soon the water stopped coming through.

“Do you think it will hold?”

Toby asked as he passed another roll of tape up to Brian.

“I don’t know,''

came the reply ,in a voice coated with worry.

“It’s holding up for now, but there’s no way to tell what will happen once we start moving.”

“Should we try it?”

“We might as well, I think it’s good enough for now.”

Brian sighed as he climbed down after Toby, careful not to step on his fingers. Helen ran off with a splashing sound to tell Ben that they were ready to go, leaving Brian, Toby, and Jack alone with the pool of water on the floor to keep them company.

A few minutes later, the submarine began to lurch, nearly knocking them off their feet. As alarms began to blare, Toby stumbled backwards, slipping on the damp floor and crashing into the puddle. Brian turned at the noise.

“Are you ok?”

Toby scrambled to get to his feet as the boat continued to jerk back and forth.

“I’m fine, just lost my balance.”

Brian reached out a hand and pulled Toby clear of the puddle, which was nothing like the tranquil pond it had once been, as the wild movement of the submarine had caused the water to splash, creating the illusion of a stormy sea. They retreated to the the doorway where they looked up at the ceiling, Toby head Brian sucking in a breath as the ceiling buckled. You could see the indentation the rocks were making as the horrible wine of rock on metal filled the air.

“Well I hope you did a good job,”

Jack muttered, covering his ears. Just then, Helen returned with a walkie talkie, Ben’s voice floating out of the device.

“Is everything holding up?”

Brian grabbed it and pushed the button, wincing as another shrill wine shattered the once quiet atmosphere.

“It’s holding together so far, but be careful, if we’re not gentle, we could rip another hole in the submarine.”

Ben promised to be careful, and then silence fell. They stood there, tension rising as the boat scooted backwards at an agonizingly slow pace. The noise was bordering unbearable, but after a few especially harsh and jerky movements, the submarine appeared to be drifting freely again.

Toby looked up, expecting to see water come crashing down through some hole in the ceiling, but no new cracks had emerged, and while the makeshift patch was sagging under all of the weight, it held. The boat began to rise, the pressure in their ears decreasing as they ascended until Ben announced that they had reached the surface. They cheered, and headed to the control room.

Lights were flashing everywhere, and Ben was almost transparent, half in half out of the computers as he moved from place to place, carefully guiding the damaged ship.

“We should be safe now that we’ve reached the surface,”

Tim remarked upon their entry. Toby avoided his gaze, but he didn’t seem angry any more. He’d probably been worn out from all of the stress and yelling. And although Toby knew that he would be yelled at the next day, at least he would be alive to be yelled at, and not drowned at the bottom of the ocean.

Next time, he promised himself, I won’t listen to Jeff. And maybe I should learn a thing or two about submarines, just in case this happens again. As if he could read his mind, Tim shot Toby glare, but he was too lost in his thoughts to notice.

#story #my writing #my style #request #anon request #requested #ticci toby #myMH/CPcrossover #bloody painter #tim wright #brian thomas #jeff the killer #sally williams #eyeless jack #homicidal liu #creepypasta #mrble hornets

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mermaidxatxheart · 4 years

Text

Bucky the Ninja Hunter {1/?}

Alright you guys. I’m on the struggle bus big time. So, I’ve decided to post this story in (hopefully) three parts, as sort of a beginning, middle, and end. This is for @captain-s-rogers and her Psych challenge. I love this show and couldn’t resist the temptation to write for it, especially since I basically speak in psych quotes. My prompt will be the first bold below. I’ve also incorporated other quotes, simply because I couldn’t help myself. Anything I’ve directly taken from the show will be in bold so there’s no confusion. I’ve had fun coming up with this idea and writing this. (To those that have sent me requests, I am still working on them. I’m trying to juggle all my works at once, so just bear with me. I promise I’ll get them out.)

Pairing: No real pairing, just Sam and Bucky being idiotic best friends.

Word Count: 2846

Warnings: swearing, murder, stupidity, ninja movie references (mostly in the future)

Prompt: “How can you just eat when there’s a dead guy lying there?” “What, is that rude? Am I supposed to share?”

Part One

The office is quiet, no music plays, just the sound of a magazine page turning occasionally. The afternoon light filters in through a big bay window, illuminating two standard desks across from each other. A kitchenette is towards the back, mostly a sink, upper cabinets, counter and a fridge. There’s a lobby space for people waiting, able to be closed off by a door.

The big paper ball sails through the air and bounces off the plastic neon orange ring. Bucky scoffs at his best friend’s terrible shot while he, himself, flips through some food magazine. His stomach is rumbling, their take out can’t be delivered fast enough.

“Oh, you think you can do better?” Sam taunts. He should know better by now.

“Of course, I can.” He flips a page about barbecue, trying to ignore his hunger pains.

“Put your money where your mouth is.” Sam challenges.

“No.” Bucky replies, propping his feet up on the corner of his desk.

“Because you can’t do it.”

“Sam, I could easily make the shot. That’s why I can’t take your money.” Bucky says with a shake of his head.

“Prove it.”

“Prove it? What are you? Five?” He pushes himself up anyway, determined to show his best friend wrong. He takes the big ball and lines himself up to take the shot. He knows Sam will do something to try and distract him, so he steels his nerves.

Just as he shoots the ball, Sam drops a thick book on the floor with a loud bang! The ball sails cleanly through the hoop and Bucky doesn’t even flinch.

“Alright.” Sam changes tactics. “Sudden death. Trivia challenge. Science-”

“Philipp Lenard.” Bucky replies confidently.

“Damn. How do you always do that?” Sam grumbles.

“It’s a gift.”

There’s a knock at the front door and Bucky pumps his fist. “Thank god, I’m starving.” He pulls open the door and accepts the Chinese food.

“Finally.” Sam sighs happily. They both dig into their food and Bucky tilts his head, something piquing his interest.

“You know, it’s been a while since we’ve worked on a case together.” He says thoughtfully.

“Yeah. Wonder when the police are gonna hit rock bottom to need you.” Sam smirks.

Bucky reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his confiscated police radio. “How about now?”

“Does Strange know you have another one of those?”

“Probably not. Wanna go? This one sounds interesting.”

“We just got our food.” Sam complains.

“Dude, they’re in to go containers. We can eat them on the go.”

“Just once, Bucky, I wanna be able to sit and eat.” Sam sighs.

“Next time.” Bucky promises with a lie.

***

The front of the apartment has been cordoned off with police tape, a crowd gathering out front. Two of Bucky’s favorite beat cops are on duty, keeping the crowd from entering: Clint Barton and Scott Lang.

“Hey, Bucky.” Clint says, shaking his hand.

“Hey, buddy. What’s good? Mind if we go up and offer our help?” He says easily.

“I dunno. Strange is in a bad mood.” Scott chimes in.

“Oh, it’s cool. He won’t even know we were there.” Bucky says, already heading for the door.

“Well, I guess they could use the extra help.” Scott says with a half shrug.

“Good man.”

***

Inside the apartment is a mess. Papers strewn about everywhere, books stacked precariously in corners; and that’s just in the entryway. Bucky and Sam edge their way around the mess, Bucky taking note of every little thing he sees. He never knows what’s going to be important later.

They move through what appears to be a living room, but the only piece of furniture visible is a faded leather couch. Artifacts and knickknacks are covering every visible surface that are plastered with papers.

Crime scene unit guys are trying to examine for evidence but there’s so much junk in the way, they’re having a hard time of it. They move into the office where the body is laying on the floor, ready to be moved to the morgue.

Ligature marks around his neck, purplish bruises just under his jaw, catch Bucky’s eye. They’re where you would expect a hangman’s noose to land, but there’s red irritation marks below them, covering the man’s throat.

Bucky tilts his head, realizing that they form the shape of a hand. He wasn’t hanged, he was strangled. Sam nudges his arm to get him to move out of the way of a crime scene guy and Bucky spots an open planner on the desk.

Dates are marked out and planned. Dinner, dentist, several dates blocked out for a trip abroad. He’s just returned the week before.

“Can we get out of here? You know how I feel about dead bodies.” Sam mutters.

“Relax.” Bucky rolls his eyes, taking a bite of his food.

Sam glares at him. “How can you just eat when there’s a dead guy lying there?” He gestures.

Bucky looks down, confused. “What, is that rude? Am I supposed to share?”

“Oh, what are you two doing here?” A man grumbles loudly behind them.

Bucky turns to see the lead homicide detective, Stephen Strange. He breaks into a wide grin at the man who’s scowl gets even bigger. “Detective.” He nods. And then he sees his junior detective behind him. “Y/N, I’ve missed you.” He says cheekily and you roll your eyes at him. One of the officers hands Strange a clipboard with notes on it.

Strange reads over the notes as Bucky looks around, seeing little indents in the wall, all the same size, all equally spaced. Strange bumps past him, probably trying to show his dominance, but it’s just rude. So, Bucky doesn’t feel bad about swiping the pages surreptitiously as he passes. Strange doesn’t even notice.

The indents are 15cm apart equally, there are 18 sets of them scattered throughout the apartment all exactly the same. That number triggers something in Bucky’s memory, but he’ll have to break into Sam’s apartment later to be sure.

There’s only a brief mention on the paper about the irritation marks, they don’t put much importance on it.

“What have we got, Detective?” Someone asks and Bucky turns to see Chief Tony Stark.

“Dead guy is Peter Quill. The apartment is his, Y/N is gonna look into his background when we get back to the station. Looks like a suicide, Chief. You can see the rope burns around his neck, rope was still around the rafter.” Strange says, pointing to the ceiling. He glances down at the clipboard to check the notes only to find them gone. He glances up and yanks them out of Bucky’s hand.

“I’m sensing that this isn’t a suicide.” Bucky counters. His eyes wander to the artifacts around the room, most are Chinese and Japanese in origin, and most are replicas. The trip he just returned from being to both China and Japan, the marks on the wall. He has an idea.

“Oh, are you?” Strange asks sarcastically.

“Yes.” He turns to Stark. “If I can draw a picture of the killer right now, would that be enough to get us on this case and keep it open?” He asks.

“Absolutely.” Stark answers.

“Come on, Chief.” Strange grumbles.

Bucky grabs the clipboard out of his hands and starts to draw while Strange argues his suicide angle. Doors locked from the inside, would be impossible to lift such a big guy into the rafters by himself, yada yada yada.

“Time’s up, Barnes. Whaddaya got?” Stark asks, crossing his arms.

“Okay, it’s not pretty, I didn’t have time to work out all the shading, if I had my prismacolor pencils, I could have done a much better job. Sam, you know what I’m talking about.”

Sam nods empathetically.

“Barnes!” Stark snaps.

“Our killer is this guy.” He turns the clipboard around to reveal a ninja, only spot of the face visible are the eyes. “This guy right here.” They all look confused and Bucky can’t understand why, everything lines up. “What? Fear not the weapon, but the hand that wields it.”

Strange chuckles happily as he takes back the clipboard and Stark points to the door for them to leave. Sam is glaring at him as they start to exit the crime scene.

“Oh, one more thing.” Bucky starts, turning back around. “He was strangled before being strung up.” He says before dramatically leaving the building.

***

Sam slams the door behind them and crosses to his desk. Bucky sits down, getting comfortable.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky sighs, watching his best friend storm around the office.

“You almost closed down our agency with that little act of yours, Bucky.” He snaps.

Bucky sits up, offended. “Me? You’re the one spending all your extra time at your little side project.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, hand covering his heart. “You mean my real job? Soon to be my only job?”

“Sam, don’t be a gooey chocolate chip cookie. I’m gonna be right. Everything lines up. He traveled to Asia, all that art and stuff is Asian. Practically ties him to ninjas already.” Bucky sits back in his chair. “Wait, where are you going?”

“I have to finish my route. You’re on your own for the rest of the day.” Sam says, grabbing his briefcase and heading for the door.

“You can’t go now. What if the Chief calls?” Bucky implores.

“He won’t. Not after that stunt.” Sam rolls his eyes and then he’s out the door.

Bucky waits a solid five minutes, testing to see if his best friend comes back inside. He doesn’t. So, Bucky is on the move. He grabs his lock pick set and mounts his motorcycle, heading for Sam’s apartment.

Sam’s apartment is easier to get into than he thought, although Bucky personally believes he should have his own key. Sam doesn’t trust him, but clearly trusts everyone else by leaving a key in a fake rock outside his second floor apartment.

He gets inside and starts searching for the box he knows Sam has. He finds it in his study. Why Sam even has a study, Bucky doesn’t know.

He pulls off the lid and inside are a dozen different sizes and shapes of throwing stars. He pulls out his tape measure and measures the distances between the points on all the different sizes. One of them matches exactly to the measurement taken from the apartment.

Knew it.

Now how to tell Strange that?

“Barnes, how do you keep getting into my apartment? And why are you here?” Sam sighs from behind him.

“Sam, please. A secret key in a rock is far less effective on a second floor balcony. And I needed your throwing stars.”

Sam scoffs. “They’re called hira shuriken. And they’re not a weapon of ninjas. They’re used by the samurai.”

“Huh. So Hollywood is wrong. Who would have thought?” Bucky tilts his head and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Anyone who’s paid attention. They get most everything wrong.”

“Okay, mister know it all. Can samurais move like ninjas?”

“I don’t see why not. They’re both incredibly skilled.” Sam shrugs.

“Great. I need to get down to the station.” Bucky takes one last look at the star before turning back to his best friend.

“And quit breaking into my place.” Sam adds.

“If you would give me a key, I wouldn’t have to.”

***

“Strange, I just got the background report on Quill. It’s pretty interesting, but I don’t think you’re gonna like what it means for us.” You say, leaving a voicemail for your senior detective. “I’ll tell you all the details when I see you next.” You say, hanging up.

You aren’t interested in making that phone call to tell Bucky he might have been right. There’ll be no living with him after this. Sure, he’s a laugh to have around, and it’s always amusing to watch him get under Strange’s skin. That man is so uptight, it’s always funny to see him riled up. And yeah, sure, Bucky flirts with you, always having this way of making you feel so special. But you aren’t sure you can trust any of it. He’s always such a prankster, everything is a joke to him. So, you take it all with a grain of salt. But he’s not so bad, kind of charming even.

The door to the bullpen flies open and Bucky comes stumbling in, his eyes unfocused as he waves his arms around so he doesn’t walk into anything. Of course, that doesn’t stop him from walking into several officers, a chair, your desk and swiping all your papers on the floor.

“Barnes!” You complain.

“Y/N? Y/N! Thank god!” He calls loudly and you roll your eyes.

What was that about him being charming? That’s a lie.

You start picking up your papers. “What do you want, Bucky?”

“I’m having a vision! I see something from the crime scene, I need paper!” He reaches out, his eyes rolled up towards the ceiling and before he can do any more damage to your desk, you thrust a notepad and pencil in his hand.

He starts scribbling on the paper as you get your file in order again. You debate the merit of tripping him while he can’t see, but that would probably border on cruel.

You move your file out of his disastrous reach and he slumps against the column near your desk with an anguished moan. He drops the notepad on your desk and you pick it up, looking at the impressive recreation of a throwing star.

“What is this?” You ask, showing him.

“I’m seeing them thrown around that apartment. That’s what made those puncture marks in the walls.” He says, pushing himself back up.

You feel your pulse rising, getting excited before you slump. “Doesn’t matter.” You hand him back the notepad, sitting back down in your chair.

“What do you mean is doesn’t matter? There was someone else in that apartment.” He insists.

“So far, it’s been ruled a suicide. We have the murder weapon-the rope he hung himself with.” You shake your head. “We know he traveled to China and Japan a lot. He could have gotten one of those hira shuriken in one of his trips and made those holes himself. There’s no proof that there was anyone else in that apartment.” You shrug. “Sorry, Bucky.”

He stares at you and you remember why you don’t mind him hanging around so much. He cares about these cases. Maybe he cares mostly about being right, or he just can’t hear the word no, but right now he looks so offended.

“What about the handprint on his neck?” He asks.

“The coroner hasn’t turned in his report yet. We’re still waiting. Ultimately, he’ll make the decision if it’s suicide or homicide.”

“Alright. I hate waiting, but I guess I can wait. How long do you think? Like, twenty minutes?”

“Bucky, it takes almost a day. They have to wait for a tox screen, that takes almost eighteen hours itself.”

“What? That’s outrageous.”

“Just go home. If anything turns up, I’m sure we’ll call you.” You say, patting him on the shoulder. His big broad shoulders slump as he nods.

“Sure.” He turns to leave, the wind out of his sails a little.

A small part of you wants to believe him. He has a nose for these sorts of things, and he always has such conviction. But you just know that one time you’re gonna let your guard down and believe him and it’s gonna blow up in your face.

Better to wait for the facts.

Bucky

The industrial lights flicker overhead, the grimy mint green tiles making the dim hallway feel cold and unwelcoming.

But then, death is never welcomed.

Bucky finds the correct door and pushes it open. The overwhelming, nose burning smell of antiseptic hits him and he wrinkles his nose. The least the medical examiner could do is light some candles, maybe spray some febreeze.

“Mr. Barnes. What can I do for you this fine day?” He asks from his office doorway.

“That body they just brought in today,” Bucky starts.

“Ah, the suicide.” He nods and moves over to the coolers, pulling out the right one.

“I’m sensing there’s more to it. I don’t think it’s a suicide.”

“Oh? I’m listening.”

“I’m feeling a hand around his neck. Would there be any way to see that if there aren’t any marks on the skin?” Bucky asks.

“Oh absolutely. Hit the lights.” He instructs, turning around to get something from his office.

Bucky flips the switch and it gets pitch black in the room. But then a blueish glow is coming from behind him. He turns around as the doc shines the light over the neck of the body.

“Oh boy, you’re right.” He looks up at Bucky. “Here, hold this.” He thrusts the light wand into his hands and rushes to get his camera. He snaps several photos while directing Bucky where to angle the light.

“Holy shit. I would have missed that.” He mutters, looking up at Bucky. “That’s some gift you have, kid.” He says, clapping Bucky on the arm.

“So, it’s officially a murder?” Bucky asks.

“Officially a murder.” He agrees.

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