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inkformyblood · 3 years

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towards an unseen day

Day 03 of @bobadinweek prompt: Caretaking

Warnings: None

Laughter echoed down the small side tunnel, deep and rumbling through the earth like an aftershock, and Din paused, letting the sound wash over him.

His hand — still pressed to the wall — brushed over the symbol carved there, the chill of the stone settling into his bones as his bare skin traced the lines he couldn’t read but understood all the same.

There had been a strange look in Boba’s eyes when he took Din’s hand — pausing first, his gaze flickering upwards in a silent question — to place it against the symbol when he first carved it into the rock wall. He had mentioned the Kaminoans, and their fluorescent ink that the clones had quickly learned to hack into their HUD display, with a note of mournful laughter in his voice, but hadn’t said what the symbols meant. His free hand had curled through battle-signs as he spoke, so Din could guess well enough: home, safety, return.

An ache had settled into Din’s bones, and every step closer to home lightened his burden, but still he waited, his head tipped to one side as he listened. There was a second current of laughter, tumbling after the first like a shadow, high and uncoordinated. His steps were faster now, warmth flooding through his chest and he input the code as quickly as his trembling fingers would let him.

Light filled the small room, heralded in a thousand shimmering fragments from the mirrors suspended above, reflecting the scrap of sunlight that fell through the barred window. Lining one indented wall was an array of packaged ingredients but the order was disrupted by clear gaps like missing teeth in the neat rows. Across the opposite wall hung a tapestry, currents of scarlet and bronze dancing through a background of dark blue, the careful images of the constellations above Tatooine picked out amongst a stylised set of Mandalorian armour, but the figures in front captured Din’s attention utterly as he pulled his helmet off, clipping it onto his belt.

Boba was without his armour, dressed in instead in a loose linen shirt that clung to the broad curve of his shoulders and fell past his hips to his thighs, and dark trousers. The birikad across his chest had been modified with the dark green fabric tied around the ring on Boba’s shoulder to allow Grogu to watch the world around him.

The child’s hands were stretched towards the fruit laid out on the counter in front of him, already stained with the dark berry juice, and, as Din watched, a sliver rose into the air. It hung for a moment, commanded by a power Din could barely wonder at, before Boba plucked the fruit, his hands stained with purple smudges and threw it into his mouth.

“Patoo!” Grogu demanded, his ears twitching, but his darkening mood passed in an instant as Boba ducked his head to smooth a kiss over his forehead, tapping the curve of one ear carefully.

“Later, kid. Save some for your buir.”

Boba tipped his head, his grin broadening as he caught Din’s gaze, and picked the knife back up. Grogu babbled, waving a hand towards one of the bowls before twisting to peer up at Boba.

“Yeah, that’s the next one. Good job.”

Din’s chest felt too full, too warm, barely able to breathe for fear of disrupting the scene in front of him. He had never imagined that he would have a life close to this. The closest he got to imagining his future was a shapeless plan to provide as best as he could for the foundlings and his covert. His usual grace had abandoned him as he stumbled forward, resting his hand on the table as the expected aches and pains made themselves known, radiating down his spine and legs.

Grogu turned with a shriek of delight, his eyes bright and reached from the pouch, almost over balancing to try and reach Din sooner. He caught the child, scooping him up to press their foreheads together. The scent of tart berries clung to him, mixing with the comforting warmth of blue milk and the herbs that were mixed into the laundry to keep them fresh.

“Missed you, womp rat.”

This close to Boba, he could sense rather than see the grin that spilled across his face, but Din moved up to kiss him before it could reach fruition. The scars on Boba’s lips, ridged against Din’s oversensitive skin made a shiver roll down his spine, the action mirrored as his beard scratched against Boba’s cheeks. Din broke away, shifting to press his forehead to Boba’s, Grogu cooing in the crook of his arm in satisfaction. The slight pressure of the Force against the back of his head made Din pause, but Boba was already moving to blindly tap his finger against Grogu’s cheek in gentle admonishment.

“We’ve got the memo, kid. Don’t need any outside help here.”

Din chuckled, reflexively trying to stifle the noise at Grogu’s disgruntled whine, and gently rocked all three of them, his free hand slipping to rest on Boba’s waist. The shape of a modified blaster, carefully hidden beneath the loose fabric made him pause, his laughter breaking free once again.

“Could hear you coming down the tunnels. But can’t get complacent.” Boba’s words were grave and tinged with bitterness, and Din nodded, careful to not break their connection.

This small room attached to both of their chambers and Grogu’s room had become a sanctuary of sorts. The shelves held ingredients suitable for long term storage in case they needed to shelter, and next to the door lay the familiar shapes of their grab bags. Grogu’s had been a new addition — a small brown knapsack, contrived to have as many pockets as possible — and Din knew some of them were already filled with the snacks he enjoyed, and that the kitchen staff kept slipping to him when Din and Boba pretended not to notice.

“How was the job?” Boba stepped away with one final gentle kiss, squeezing Din’s hand around his waist before he picked up the knife again. He picked up the bowl Grogu had indicated earlier and removed one of the yellow fruit from within. It’s skin was tough and ridged, and Boba anchored it on the board before working on piercing the knife through it.

“Well as could be expected at first. The traps and countermeasures he had set up against the Imperials were well-made, and just as effective against me.”

Din felt Boba’s worry rumble through him as if he was back on the ship, the rthymic sticky sound of the knife blade pausing as he looked him over. Grogu babbled, patting his chest plate, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I managed. That’s why you pay me well.”

Boba scoffed, and Din knew that his plans for the evening had just changed. The palace boasted an impressive set of heated baths in its depths, and Din had been looking forward to sinking into them. Boba wouldn’t rest until he catalogued every new wound and every purpling bruise.

Din let his thoughts wander for a moment, lingering on the warm steam that seemed to stick to the skin and the press of Boba’s hands — the callouses so like his own, rough but a sign of skill and training that made his head swim — against the ache that had settled in the curve of his shoulders and the fresh wound wrapped around his thigh. His gaze drifted to Boba’s, taking in the knowing grin on his face.

“Later,” he promised, an eyebrow raised as he inclined his chin towards Grogu curled into Din’s arms.

Din’s answering blush was immediate, feeling as if he had scorched his skin with his flamethrower, the heat spreading down his neck and across his chest. “He took some convincing but the information you gave me is still good.”

⁂

The blaster shot cracked against the wall just above Din’s head, the heat leaving a burning line across the edge of his beskar. He bit back a curse even as a grin, wide and unrestrained, slipped across his face.

His approach to the small encampment had been slow, a careful waltz around the concealed jagged traps that lined the walls of the ravine — all carefully at head-height for the average human and designed to be deadly. Their make was familiar, the twisted knots at the top arranged in a pattern that almost looked like a hand gesture. Boba tied knots for his snares the exact same way.

The intelligence he had managed to gather independently of Boba’s thriving informant network hadn’t proven to be of much use. A sea of closed mouths and gazes that turned away the moment they could, as impenetrable as any wall, greeted him at the small bar next to the single spaceport. The man had clearly managed to win their loyalty, something that seemed to be a reoccurring thread with these missions.

He was skilled with a blaster, proving it with another shot, curved through a modified barrel to try and draw Din out of hiding. Din went with the motion, catching the shot on his vambrace and directing it harmlessly into the dirt, and he ran towards the next outcrop, hearing the clicks and whirs of the blaster reloading echoe clearly.

“Kark off, Imp!” The man’s shout was clear, rage clear through every word, and Din watched the flicker of the shadow move, elongated through the setting sun. “I’m not joining your karking plot so you can shove it up your arse!”

“Boba Fett sent me!” Din called. A bubble of laughter settled in his chest, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he pushed it down. There would be time later.

Siblings, wherever they were found, held a note of similarity between them, and Boba and his many brothers were no different to Din and his covert.

The face that appeared in the small gap of the overhanging rock, barely visible theough Din’s visor, was similar enough to Boba that he could chart the similarities: the same unhinged grin, the same dark eyes and the same way of assessing the situation, his gaze focused like a sniper’s guide. But the clone had a shock of dark curls shot through with grey, grown wild after being cut back for so long and hanging at uneven lengths, and faint tattoos around his eyes, pale lines tracing around two large ovals like a Togruta’s markings.

“Boba? My ori’vod’ika sent you?” His voice in sharp contrast to the ringing shout before was quiet and pensive before his jaw closed with a snap and the rifle was drawn to his shoulder once more. “Talk faster.”

“Remember Docking Bay Seven!” Silence greeted Din’s call, as it had everytime before. Boba had shared many parts of his childhood on Kamino with Din from the small quarters he shared with his father to some of the training missions he undertook with the other clones but there was a wealth of adventures and occurrences that he couldn’t speak of.

Din understood. He couldn’t put into words the time he spent with Paz, the hours of meaningless conversations or the spark that had bloomed between them on their first meeting, tipping his face back to stare into the half-finished tattoos that ran over the other boys face like lightning strikes. But that phrase… it meant something precious to the clones Din had managed to retrieve from their bolt holes.

The clone above him laughed, wild and unrestrained. “Bob’ika has done well for himself then! Word of advice, your armour reflects sunlight like a signal flare. I saw you coming yesterday.”

“But you didn’t run.”

The man swung himself down, the muscles in his arms flexing in a deliberate display of power and control. When he stepped closer, it was a swagger, confident and sure of himself. “I am still a soldier, not matter what happened. I don’t run from a fight.”

“None of the information mentioned a name or a signifier,” Din began, and the man’s eyes widened for a moment, old surprise still fresh and burning. “What would you like to be called?”

“You retrieve many clones for our Boba?” The man’s gaze slipped over him, lingering on the mud horn on his pauldron and taking in the careful free space waiting for Boba’s mark. His grin was worn with melancholy, and his hand moved to touch the fanged necklace corded around his throat before brushing against the dotted lines tattooed across his cheek as it circled his eyes.

“Enough. There’s a compound on Tatooine many of them stay at. Some travel.”

“Tatooine?” Laughter rumbled through him, a burst of humour several of the other clones had displayed and Din couldn’t begin to wonder at. “Of course it is.

“Call me Alpha-17. That’s the name I chose for myself before all this.”

⁂

Boba hummed as Din finished recounting his mission, pausing to tap the blade along the board, now slick with a pale green juice.

“Alpha-17 helped train the younger clones after the trainers focused their attentions more on the speciality tracks. The Alpha class was one of the few that my buir hand-trained.”

Boba reached over, a piece of dripping fruit cradled in his palm, and Grogu plucked it carefully, his claws piercing slightly into the exposed flesh. The juice ran over his arms, glistening trails darkening the fabric of his robe, but Din’s attention was captured by Boba. He had raised his palm to his mouth, pale liquid spilling down his chin, and heat bloomed in Din’s belly, immediate and severe.

What he had left out of his recounting was the question he placed to Alpha-17 as they travelled. Food had been important to the covert, and learning a new recipe and perfecting it was considered the first true step towards a formal proposal.

The man had laughed, immediately plucking Din’s intentions from his careful questions, and answered as honestly as he could remember. Jango’s food was sacred to Boba, each remembered meal a sacrifice and a prayer, the kitchen made holy by his devoted attention, so Din worked at reconstruction, following the thread as devoutly as he would a bounty.

Boba paused, stretching out to draw Din down to kiss him once more, his mouth sweet and sticky, and Din marvelled at the life they had made and the possibility of what came next, each carving out a place for the other to shelter.

#bobadinweek2021 #BobaDin #the mandalorian #Star Wars #din Djarin #boba fett #grogu djarin #my writing

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justsome-di · 2 years

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Three Act Outlining

This is my personal favorite way of structuring stories and outlining them. This is by no means the only way to do it or the best way, but it’s how I like to write outlines!

The three act structure is the easiest way for me to organize my thoughts and plans. If I know there are “marks” I can hit when writing, I feel like I can stay on track and plan ahead much better than I can with any other outlining method.

There’s different “names” for the acts but what I go by is The Setup, Conflict, and Climax. This isn’t how every source is going to set up the outlines, but it is what I’ve become comfortable with.

Act I: The Setup

Act I will have your exposition and inciting action. It will literally set up your story.

Exposition should tell your reader what your main character’s life is like. This is where you tell us important background context. What does your character do every day. Are they a student, do they work, are they a stay at home parent? What does their world look like? Do they live in a house, a space ship, or a hole in the ground--not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, fill with the ends of worms, nor yet a dry, sandy hole, etc. etc.

Be careful not to give the readers too much detail. We don’t need to start the story way in advance. We don’t need to know the full daily life schedule of your main character.

Once we know what average life looks like for the main characters, you up-end everything. The inciting action is what gets the story really going. What drives the character away from their home, away from their studies, away from their comfort?

This is a really good point where you can show your character’s priorities and motivations. Why are they jumping into action? Is it to protect family, to chase a dream, are they even doing it willingly? Are they being forced into their action and do you get to explore their loss?

What’s going to get your character to act II? What’s going to push them fully into conflict and get them deeper into trouble? Keep this in mind when you’re planning the inciting action. It shouldn’t be too easy for your character to get out of their problem.

Act II: Confrontation/Conflict

Now that your reader knows your main character and is introduced to their conflict, you get to the meat of the problem.

This is where you write the rising action. Everything is building up the biggest part of your story. Think of it as the next step from the inciting action. What happens because of your inciting action? Where are your characters now? Who are the antagonists of your story and what are their motivations?

By the end of act II, your character will be at their lowest point. They’re so close to getting out of trouble only to fall further than they’ve ever been. This will lead you into act III.

Sometimes, act II can be tricky because it can easily be the most boring part of the story. It’s the middle of your story. Your reader isn’t learning much like in act I, and they haven’t gotten to the climax yet. Try to keep this part tight when outlining.

Act III: Climax

There’s three parts to this act. Pre-climax, climax, and the resolution.

Pre-climax. Tensions are high. Your character is at their lowest point. How do they climb back up? What’s keeping them fighting?

Climax is the the most action-packed part of your story. This is the big fight scene, the get-together scene, the apprehending the criminal scene. Your character will win (unless it’s a tragedy).

The resolution will be the neat tidy-up. Your character gets to go back home, they get to start a new life, they mourn the loss of a friend or family member, they brush themselves off and get back to life. Whatever ending you have planned for your characters, this where you write it. It shouldn’t be too long. It’s brief closure for you, your characters, and your readers.

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 5 years

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how would you do a percy jackson adaptaion?

okay, so I know this is a controversial opinion right off the bat: I really don’t think it should be an animated series.

A large part of the appeal of the series is that it’s a fantasy series set very very firmly in reality. Literally, apart from the camps, you could go to every location hit in the books. Riordan mentions specific streets, buildings and landmarks, and that was cool when I first read them. I remember being a kid and waiting for him to set a scene in a place near where I lived! I remember trips to New York and being able to envision an epic war happening in the streets. So I think any adaption needs to be live action just to keep that same feeling alive, while I’m not knocking on animation, I just feel like taking the story out of real life would make it loose a little of the charm. Like, the scene where Manhattan is completely frozen in time? It would be haunting to see that in real life, but I feel like it would be less impactful if it didn’t…you know…look real? The series should be done in a way that makes you truly feel like you could just turn a corner and walk straight into a snake woman going about her day.

Now: another large part of the appeal of the series is how funny it is, but a lot of that…is Percy’s inner monologue. He doesn’t actually voice most of it, there was even a book where Annabeth described him as being quiet. So, I think the best way to work around this: make it Interview With A Demigod.

Imagine it’s got an interview with a vampire-esque setup- and this even works because within the riordanverse, the books canonically exist because Percy sat down with a ‘camp scribe’ and had his quests recorded. So, like, this isn’t even entirely out of left field. But just imagine, a college-aged, maybe a little older Percy, I can see it so clearly in my head, he’s wearing a sweatshirt that at first glance looks like it says NYU but a trained eye will see it actually says NRU for a camp jupiter easter egg, he’s sitting in some dinky little diner (maybe it can even be a monster donut or something with a clever greek myth related name) with a guy who’s recording the conversation on some old-ass tape recorder that keeps acting up but they can’t record on a phone because of the whole technology thing. Every now and then it’ll cut back to them to get some great Percy thoughts out there. They open with older Percy saying the ‘look, I didn’t wanna be a halfblood’ and then explaining where he was when the whole mess started. Once he get’s to “was I a troubled kid?” the screen fades from older Percy to 12 year old Percy getting in a fight with Nancy and her gang, and the voice over says the ‘Yeah, you could say that’ part as we see him get threatened by the principal to behave on the field trip. Boom, we’ve got an opening. Lowkey….I’m seeing Jordan Fisher as older Percy, but I’m not 100% married to the idea.

And before anyone tries to argue that showing an older Percy would spoil he’s not gonna die in last olympian- like, reading the books, we all knew he wasn’t going to die. It was a first person narrative and he was consistently speaking in past tense lmao like we Knew he was gonna make it. We still enjoyed the series. It won’t ruin anything.

I want part of the score of the adaptation to be instrumental versions of songs from the musical, I think that could be a sweet nod to that team.

They really need to nail camp halfblood. I know that goes without saying, but in order to keep the pacing of the story decent we can’t spend as much time falling in love with it like we got to with the book. The book is like, 24 chapters and the quest starts at chapter 12- for a movie or tv show, that’s just gonna feel like it’s dragging. So, the insanity of the camp needs to smack you in the face right away, and then it needs to endear itself to the viewers quickly after that. Don’t try to ease the viewers (or Percy) into the mythology is real thing, rip it off like a bandaid. He’s on his way to meet Chiron and Mr. D for the first time and even if he’s not comprehending what he’s seeing, there’s nature spirits and harpies all around going about their day. Hestia waves at him and then disappears into the flames. Hecate kids can be seen casting a spell on the porch of the Hermes cabin. The Stolls are seen pranking some Aphrodite kids. He sees someone surely die on the climbing wall but then you hear a faint ‘I’m okay!’. The Apollo kids put a rhyming curse on another cabin. Pure chaos all before he gets the ‘so, gods are real’ speech. And then after that…show how warm Luke is to him at the cabin and at dinner. Show the kids all goofing off at the campfire and really make it clear that they’re children. Show the strawberry fields rolling in the wind and Percy sitting on the beach. The whole couple weeks where he’s searching for powers and learning greek and latin with Annabeth can be a montage. Make it clear how hurt and scared he is when he finds out he needs to leave.

It needs to really get you feeling how Percy’s feeling, every laugh, every tear, every moment of fear or confusion needs to shine clear through. Like…think of Spider-Man Homecoming, the Washington monument scene. All things considered, it’s not the most high-stakes scene we’ve ever seen in that franchise, and when it cuts to the kids in the elevator, they’re worried but not quite freaking out, but that scene feels very high stress to watch because the movie is good at getting the viewers to feel what Peter feels. A Percy Jackson adaptation needs a touch like that, because Percy’s a very emotional kid and that’s what a lot of the scenes hinge on.

Lowkey- I’d love it if the casts of both the previous movies and the musical had cameos or bit parts (the movie cast did Nothing Wrong, it was the rest of that team). It’d be hilarious to see, like, Jake Abel as the owner of the poodle, or Logan Lerman as Older Percy and the reporter’s waiter that keeps trying to get in on the conversation, or Brandon T. Jackson as a satyr who’s still stuck grooving out in the Lotus Hotel and Casino. Kristen Stokes as a nature spirit, Chris as one of the ghosts stuck in the waiting room of DOA Records, just like any of those casts having small parts would be fun and sweet.

There should be a lot of easter eggs for the bigger riordanverse. Promotions in the background for the new Tristan McLean movie. Gabe’s got a true crime documentary about the missing Grace children playing during his poker game. Mr. D is reading a paper about Rachel Dare’s father’s newest project. At some point while they’re still in New York they pass the Kane family’s mansion or whatever it was called. Annabeth keeps a picture of little her and Magnus on her nightstand. The barest of hints about the Triumvirate. Seeing kids in camp jupiter gear in some background shots, just out of notice of our main characters but implying the camps are going through similar problems (BITCH….if we got a titan’s curse adaptation…and we had a shot of Thalia in the foreground….but in the background we saw a blond boy in purple with a golden sword….well I would simply loose my Goddamn mind).

And show us how easily the mist lets things blend in, too- like, everyone thinks ‘Monster Donuts’ is just a normal chain, it’s just on an average street block, but if Percy looks through the window he can see who’s behind the counter. Show someone swindling some guys in a park and you have to look twice to realize he’s a gegeines. Like…how people are still trying to find all the background ghosts in haunting of hill house. I would LOVE to see a bunch of background monsters and mythical beings just going about their day as much as the mortals are while the gang’s questing.

The effects need to be fun. The whole story needs to be fun, but one weird thing about the past movies are that like…in their attempt to make it gritty, none of the fantastical things happening on screen actually felt that exciting. We need bright colors and interesting choices, consistently cool action shots, a liveliness that makes you feel like you’re in the center of the action. I have absolutely no doubt Disney easily has enough funds to pull off great effects.

The characters need to be….in character lmao. Annabeth needs to be cocky and bratty with the skill set to justify it. Percy needs to be a sweetheart who pretends to be hardened because that’s what people assume he’s like. Grover needs to have dry humor and a Too Old For This Shit attitude whenever percabeth start bickering. Luke needs to be nice and friendly but in a specific way that you can look back after the betrayal and see he was trying to groom everyone. Sally needs to be loving, protective and strong. Chiron needs to feel defeated and determined at the same time. Mr. D needs to….be Stanley Tucci lmao

Also, I’d love if the adaptation could expand more on things that got brushed along in the books- Percy and Beckendorf’s friendship, Silena and Clarisse’s dynamic, make Nico’s crush on Percy a little more obvious, give Rachel some more development. One thing that haunts me about the books is Sally never found out that Gabe hit Percy. Absolutely they don’t need to make the abuse explicit, but I also personally feel like a lot of Percy’s mindsets throughout the series are somewhat a result of Gabe, and I’d like if that got, you know, acknowledged. Maybe in the scene where he figures out Gabe abuses Sally he could say ‘does he hit you too?’ or something to that effect. They could also go more into detail about Annabeth’s family, give Zoe some more depth….like the possibilities I’m screaming.

Okay this is already long and I’m getting tired but I can so clearly see a great adaptation in my mind….Disney please come through….It’s what we deserve….

#percy jackson #disney #rick riordan #pjo #hoo #toa #asks #molly mumbles

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akatsukinojutsu · 4 years

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Masumoto Tsubaki

Age: 32

Birthday: 9 Aug | Leo

Nickname: Tsu-Tsu (only her mother referred to her as such)

Gender: Female

Affiliated Village: Amegakure

Status: S-Rank Missing Nin

Background:

Tsubaki grew up with only her mother until she was slaughtered by a Sunagakure shinobi. This left her to be an orphan and having to fend for herself. She managed to stay alive by stealing and working for the scum of Amegakure. Eventually being used by Hanzo; due to her exceptional natural talents as a sensory shinobi. It took sometime for her to loosen Hanzo’s hold on her and she was able to meet an orange haired boy one evening. The two of them attempted to steal the same bowl of rice from a local restaurant in the rainy village.

Managing to beat him to it, Tsubaki was going to let the boy go hungry at first but once she saw the look in his eyes that she herself has seen in her own reflection, she gave in. Tsubaki shared the bowl of rice and then the boy took her back to join two other orphans -- Konan and Nagato.

The four of them trained under the Konohagakure Sanin, Jiraiya. However, Tsubaki felt his mentoring to be more troublesome than helpful -- often going off on her own to tap into her sensory ninjutsu as well as a vibration manipulation.

The four of them formed a close bond and Tsubaki took a liking to the orange haired boy, Yahiko. Tensions rose between Konan and Tsubaki as Tsubaki felt Konan getting uncomfortably close to Yahiko. However, the orange haired, now young man solidified their relationship with a passionate kiss. The two talked about taking each other’s virginities but that never came to fruition.

Tsubaki desperately tried her hardest to reach Nagato and Yahiko on the day that shattered her world as well as the other Ame orphans. She arrived just in time to watch Yahiko thrust himself into Nagato’s kunai in order to save Konan’s life. Tsubaki collapsed in anguish and screamed as she watched her beloved die in Nagato’s hands. She merely sat by as Nagato released his strength and cradled Yahiko in her arms.

At first, Tsubaki blamed Nagato for not doing all that he could do. Even when the Uzumaki attempted to explain it to her, she refused to listen. Filled to the brim with pain and anger, she fled her village then chose to travel the different countries. Tsubaki spent different periods of times in each village, Sunagakure being her least favorite and her favorite being Konohagakure --.

There she met a handsome Jonin named Shiranui Genma. The two met at a local bar and the man offered the blue haired kunoichi a drink. She was hesitant to accept because she was unsure of his intentions but his charming smile and his comfortable nature caused her to give in.

The two spent a lot of time together and he fulfilled many if not all the promises that he gave to Tsubaki. She did not give up much information about herself or her past (things about the Ame orphans, helping forming the Akatsuki, and her forced shinobi work by Hanzo) but that didn’t bother the Leaf Jonin. Genma promised her that he would treat her well and he did. Maybe -- this would help Tsubaki move on from the hurt that she carried since Yahiko’s death.

But her reality would shatter when the man she thought was gone forever returned to her. He revealed himself to her in the hotel room that she was staying at in Konoha. Accompanied by the other blue haired kunoichi, Konan. Before her shaking eyes stood two people from her past, the most shocking being Yahiko. Tsubaki believed that he was a ghost or this was just a bad dream but when he spoke, she knew it was real. His face was now littered with piercings, his Amegakure forehead protector was marked through with a single gash, and his eyes were now the same as Nagato’s Rinnegan.

Yahiko who now was being addressed by the name “Pain” asked Tsubaki to once again aid him and fulfill the mission to be the God of a new world. Where everyone will feel pain and will understand it, no longer wishing to inflict it on one another ever again. Tsubaki accepted his offer and hoped that she could help him do whatever it is he needed.

Personality:

Tsubaki is typically a calm and collected woman. She is usually in constant thought and assesses all scenarios carefully as all possible outcomes are shuffled through mentally. She acts as a sort of manager of the Akatsuki, making sure everyone is pursuing their actions correctly. However, she is quick to anger and gets frustrated easily. That is her one downfall, especially in the battlefield.

She is quick to comebacks and is frequent to sarcastic replies to people that annoy her. Tsubaki is also quite the flirt when in the right mood. She was able to quickly woo over Hidan when attempting to draft him into the Akatsuki along with Konan.

She also is aware of her abilities and sometimes can talk about herself too much.

Underneath her placid emotional exterior, Tsubaki is a damaged individual. She is sensitive and that is why she is so quick to anger. However, during her time being under Hanzo’s control - she learned to control her exterior. Yahiko was able to push her buttons easily and always got a blush out of her cheeks.

Abilities:

Tsubaki is a powerful and talented kunoichi, specifically in her sensory abilities. Hanzo was able to help Tsubaki nearly triple her abilities by teaching her how to combine her ability to sense/read chakra with her manipulation of vibrations in the universe.

Tsubaki is able to detect chakra signals of individuals, animals, or any being that gives off any chakra. She is able to determine friends and foes by the different sensations and aura they give off. With the combination of her vibration techniques, she is able to sense the slightest changes in things like heartrate to determine a person’s nature. Things like lying are easily detected if she focuses her chakra heavily to places like her feet or palms, anything in the general area of the person. The further they are away from her, the harder it is to read their vibrations.

However, her vibration manipulation is utilized in different ways on the battlefield.

Vibrations are defined as a type of mechanical/physical energy and studied in physics. Atoms vibrate when the bonds within move and in a sense, are giving off energy. So, Tsubaki is able to manipulate this.

Ninjutsu: Vibration Trap No Jutsu: using vibrations in the air or ground, she can focus her chakra to her hands or feet to manipulate the subtle movements of her opponent. She can use her Vibration Hypnosis genjutsu to trap them easily within this ninjutsu as well. This works best with a partner because it is a fairly limited attack and works best with close range. If alone, she can use this to get an upper hand on her opponent by coming in with a powerful kick or punch.

Vibration Chakra Theft: using the rushing energy that is chakra from a person. Tsubaki can focus her chakra to her hands and use the insanely subtle vibrations from the rushing energy to her benefit. She can leach off of her opponent’s chakra by manipulating this natural occurrence. This can also be utilized when performing her Vibration Trap No Jutsu.

Vibration Clap/Punch/Kick: as the name states, she can manipulate the vibrations in the general area from things like the wind brushing leaves against the grass or trees. Her own heartbeat or the sound of a voice reverberating inside of a larynx. She can absorb this physic energy and use it to create a powerful melee attack.

Vibration Melding: this uses just about all of her chakra but she can essentially break down her own matter by focusing her chakra to move her atom’s bonds. Thus melding into the moving atoms within the environment. Can travel great lengths but is not limitless.

Vibration Burst: this also uses all of her chakra but this grants Tsubaki the ability to focus all her atom’s energy as well as some of her opponents given she is physically touching them. Focusing this, she can cause the atoms to go into an overload with their vibration. In the ending result, the opponent explodes into a bloody, bloody mess.

Taijutsu: Tsubaki is average with taijutsu. She can keep up with most S-Rank shinobi however, she prefers to use her ninjutsu over taijutsu. Her Vibration Clap/Punch/Kick greatly aids with her taijutsu abilities.

Genjutsu: Tsubaki is able to release pulsing vibrations in the air and ground with concentration. It doesn’t take long but she is able to focus these vibrations to reverberate off of the opponent’s inner ear which can cause things like hallucinations and blinding head pain. Works best with a teammate because it requires Tsubaki’s full attention. However, works excellent in the long haul because she can break down their will to get information, etc.

Likes: foggy mornings, taking walks in the early morning and late night, spending time with those she cares most for, reading, and trying new foods/drinks

Dislikes: those who underestimate her, cooking, and most strangers

Pairing: Pain/Yahiko

*below is my tattoo of tsubaki in her full color

#naruto #naruto oc #my oc #oc #tsubaki masumoto

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lunetheaveragefan · 4 years

Text

‘one day...’

Hey y’all! This chapter was supposed to be posted last Monday but last week was so busy for me and I forgot. So finally, here is chapter 7! Chapter 8 was supposed to be posted next week, but I’m going to continue with my typical two week schedule so I don’t forget again! Hope you enjoy!

A Sander Sides high school AU

Pairing: Prinxiety and some background Logicality

Summary: Virgil is used to being alone. He only has one friend, Logan. But when Logan makes a new friend, things begin to change as two more join their group. Roman, a boisterous theater kid, seems determined to destroy Virgil’s lonely, average life. How much will Virgil’s life change?

Warnings: swearing; brief mention of a panic attack; eating; if you notice anything else, let me know!

Word Count: 2557 words

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Virgil exits the auditorium with Patton and Logan, grinning.

“He did so good!” Patton exclaims. Before either of the others have a chance to respond, Patton continues, “It was like he was a completely different person! Here, let’s go congratulate him!” Virgil and Logan follow Patton down a few crowded hallways, weaving in and out of people talking to other members of the cast.

“Roman!” Patton yells, waving his arms. Virgil catches sight of Roman, stepping out of a set of heavy doors. Behind him, it’s dark, but Virgil can make out a folding table and the edges of black curtains. Backstage. Then, a group of people walk in front of them, and Virgil loses sight of Roman.

Without hesitation, Patton grabs Logan’s hand and begins to shove people aside, muttering a few cheerful ‘Excuse me’s and ‘Sorry’s. Before Virgil has a chance to get a hold of Logan, they’re lost in the crowd.

Well, what the heck do I do now? Virgil wonders, chuckling softly. A hand brushes his arm at the same time a voice says, “Hey. Where are the others?”

After seeing who it is, Virgil laughs and answers, “They went to look for you.” Roman slaps his forehead with his palm, uttering a sound that’s half-sigh, half-laugh. He rises up to his toes, straining to look over people’s heads.

“This same goddamn thing happens every year. You would think we’d learn by now.” Roman looks back down at Virgil, and at the very second he does, Virgil sees Patton pop up above the rest of the crowd. Pointing so Roman will see, Virgil waves his other hand to catch Patton’s attention. It works, and Roman grabs Virgil’s hand, causing his heart to skip a beat.

After a lot of pushing and shoving, the two of them reach Patton and Logan, standing pressed up against the wall next to a chair. So that’s how Patton got so tall all of a sudden. The second Patton sees them, he starts to gush about the performance.

“That was so good, Roman!” Patton exclaims clapping his hands in glee. He bounces on the balls of his feet, a wide smile spread across his face. “We all loved it and we’re so proud of you and it sounded so good and I think Virgil might’ve even been crying—” Virgil blushes when Roman looks at him with a shocked expression—“I’m not sure I couldn’t see through my own tears. But for real it was so good, like, I can’t even believe it was put on by high schoolers—” Logan places a hand on Patton’s shoulder. The action confirms to Virgil that Logan definitely has some sort of crush on Patton; Logan never really touches anyone in any way, with the occasional exception of Virgil.

“Sorry,” Patton says, grinning sheepishly. Roman chuckles and looks at Patton, appreciation covering his face.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you came. All of you.” Roman’s smile at him, although no more than a few seconds, makes butterflies erupt in Virgil’s stomach. He smiles back hesitantly, an intense debate going on in his head.

C’mon, tell him how much you liked it! one side says.

No! He won’t think it’s sincere. He’ll just figure you’re copying Patton, the other says back.

Maybe he will take it seriously! Maybe then you’ll have a better chance with him!

Better chance? You don’t actually like him, do you?

Of course he does! The butterflies, dreams, that’s the only logical conclusion!

Shut up, Virgil interrupts. I’ll tell him good job, but as a friend. Because I don’t like him. He’s still Roman Princeford. Have you all forgotten what happened freshman year? That ends the argument in its tracks. He gathers his courage, a rolling knot of apprehension twisting in his stomach.

“Yeah, it was really good, Roman,” Virgil compliments. “Although, Patton, you didn’t need to freaking snitch on me and how I was crying.” Patton shrugs, like ‘What can you do?’ Virgil chuckles, shaking his head.

“Wait, you were actually crying?” Roman asks. When Virgil turns back to look at Roman, he bursts out laughing at his face. It’s filled with complete and utter shock, eyes wide, mouth in a small, disbelieving ‘o’ shape. It seems so much like a face a cartoon character would make that Virgil can’t control his laughter. “What?”

“Your—Your face—” Virgil manages between wheezes. Roman punches Virgil in the arm.

“Stop. That’s not nice.” His words sound angry, but he’s smiling and his tone — and punch — are light.

“Sorry, sorry,” Virgil says, taking deep breaths to hold the laughter in. “It was just so comically shocked. But yes. I did actually cry. And don’t seem so surprised this time.”

“Honestly, your laugh was more surprising. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that. It’s a nice sound,” Roman admits, his face filled with something that seems awfully close to adoration. But then he blinks, and his smile is just an ordinary, million-dollar, Roman Princeford smile. It wouldn’t matter if he said it with contempt, because the compliment would’ve still sent a flood of warmth through Virgil. His heart is racing, but this time, not out of panic.

Tearing his eyes away from Roman and trying to inconspicuously grit his teeth, which is no easy feat, Virgil thinks, What is going on? It’s just a compliment. It’s not like you have a crush on him or anything.

“Anyway,” Roman starts, addressing the whole group, “I better go find my parents so they can fawn over me like I’m next Lin-Manuel Miranda or Leslie Odom Jr.” Upon seeing everyone’s blank looks, his eyes widen and he says, “Hamilton stars? Only some of the best singers to ever step foot on Broadway? Voices like goddamn angels who can, for some reason, also rap?” When everyone shakes their head, he sighs. “I swear, you guys must be living under a rock. But anyway, Imma head out. We’ll meet by door 10 at, say, 9:00, for the sleepover?”

Patton and Logan nod their heads and immediately start talking to each other, Patton’s hands moving animatedly.

“Sleepover?” Virgil asks.

“Yeah, Patton and I have a tradition where after every show or any big event with one of our activities, we have a sleepover. Even if it went terribly. He didn’t tell you?” Virgil shakes his head. Roman smiles and continues, “Well, you won’t want to miss it. Door 10 at 9, got it?” Once Virgil gives him confirmation, Roman turns and disappears into the crowd.

Virgil stares after him, a strange feeling welling up inside him. And this time, when the possibility of a crush comes up in his thoughts, he doesn’t dismiss it immediately.

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

Virgil sits against Roman’s wall, an excessive amount of pillows behind his back, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, a comparison that Patton has already, unfortunately, made.

“I still cannot comprehend how you possibly require this immense amount of pillows,” Logan persists. He can’t stop marveling over how many pillows Roman has on his bed. It’s about the 4th time he’s mentioned it.

“Logan, dude, just let it go,” Virgil chuckles, throwing the stuffed bear next to him. It hits Logan, who’s sitting on the floor, square in the side of his head. He opens his mouth to protest, but Roman interrupts him.

“Hey, don’t throw King Snuffles. He doesn’t deserve this abuse.” Roman leans over to pick the bear off the floor. Cradling it in his arms, he glares at Virgil.

“You named your bear King Snuffles?” Virgil questions, not all that surprised. Roman gasps and fakes being offended.

“Yes,” he replies, his voice scandalized. “And what the hell of it?” Virgil puts his hands up in surrender.

“Woah. Nothing, I guess, if you’re going to get so defensive about it.” He pulls the blanket, which fell down when he put up his hands, back around him. There’s too much on his head, so it falls in front of his face. Before he can reach up to push it up, a hand does it for him. Roman smiles at him, patting his head after setting the blanket there. Virgil rolls his eyes.

He hopes the yellow-orange LED lights and the shadows from the blanket hide the blush creeping across his cheeks.

“I’m hungry so I’m gonna head and get snacks,” Roman announces, turning and sling his legs over the edge of the bed to stand. Patton bolts to his feet.

“No, no, I’ll do it,” he says, clearly up to something. “And Logan will come with me.”

“Well, actually—” Logan begins. Patton elbows him, and he changes course. “I guess I’m going with.” On their way out, Patton gives Roman an exaggerated wink. Roman, in lieu of a response, gives him an exasperated, I’m-so-done kind of look. Virgil can’t say for sure, but when Roman looks back at him, he thinks Roman’s blushing.

“So…” Roman starts, biting his lip and fidgeting with his fingers. Virgil’s never seen him look this unsure. He’s used to a confident, brash, slightly egotistical Roman. To his surprise, he almost prefers this side of Roman.

Virgil must lose his mind for a little, because he’s definitely not acting like himself when he suggests, “Pillow fight?” and right after, grabs a pillow and flings it at Roman, whacking him in the face.

A borderline-evil smile appears on Romans face as he says, “Oh, you’re on.” Virgil’s senses pick that exact moment to come back, but he can’t take it back now. So he does the only thing he can do: slings the pillow again. Chaos erupts, and a Virgil verse Roman pillow fight begins.

As he throws and gets hit by pillows, Virgil laughs and yells, heart pounding, breathing in quick bursts, but this feels better than panic attacks. Happiness. It’s something Virgil doesn’t feel a whole lot since he spends most of his life stuck in a state of anxiety. It’s nice to be happy again.

He’s so lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the pillow coming towards him until it slaps him in the face. Virgil falls backwards, head landing, conveniently, on a pillow. He sits up and hits Roman with it, and they’re at it again.

When Roman starts to fall off the bed, Virgil starts to laugh. But then he realizes that somehow, they’d gotten tangled in a blanket, and if Roman is going down, Virgil will too. Shrieking in surprise, Virgil instinctively closes his eyes as he’s yanked off the bed. A pillow hits the back of his head once he’s landed. He laughs and opens his eyes to see Roman directly under him. There’s no doubt about it now; Roman is definitely blushing. For that matter, so is Virgil.

There’s also no way Virgil can deny his crush anymore. But that doesn’t mean he has to deal with it, right? ...Right...

Desperate to put an end to the awkwardness, Virgil stands and offers his hand to Roman. He takes it and pulls himself to his feet. They make eye contact for a second before Virgil looks down at his hands. I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d kissed him.

Nope, nope, nope. Not gonna think about that. Don’t have to deal with that, remember?

“I, uh, wonder what’s taking Patton and Logan so long with the snacks,” Roman finally says, breaking the tense silence. Virgil wants to sigh in relief.

Instead, he simply responds, “I’m not sure. Let’s go see.” They walk to the landing of the stairs. Strangely, there isn’t any sound coming from the kitchen. After walking down the first few steps, Virgil can see into the room. What he sees should come as a surprise, but it really doesn’t.

Apparently, trying to set up Roman and Virgil wasn’t the only reason why Patton wanted Logan to come with. Logan is pressed up against the counter, hand wrapped around Patton’s waist as they kiss. Patton’s palms hold Logan’s face, tilting it down to account for the inches Logan has on him.

Roman, standing right behind Virgil, mutters, “Okay. Okay then.” Virgil starts to laugh but forces himself to stop so Logan or Patton don’t hear. Carefully, they creep back to the bedroom, letting them have their moment.

“So how long do you think that’s been going on for?” Roman asks once they’re back sitting on his bed, Virgil back to being wrapped up in his blanket cocoon again.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Virgil admits. “I kinda figured Logan had a crush on Patton, but I didn’t think they would actually get together, at least not this soon.”

“Yeah ever since their chemistry project, Patton's been crushing on Logan hard. He doesn’t shut up about it. Apparently,” Roman says, leaning in conspiratorially, “they’ve been talking a lot. Patton’s been so tired lately cuz they’re up til, like, 1 AM, video chatting.”

“That is news to me.” Virgil pauses, staring at the door. The two of them sit in silence for a while — comfortable silence — just waiting for Patton and Logan to reappear with the snacks they were supposed to be bringing. After about 10 more minutes, Virgil turns to Roman and asks, “Do you think I should call them up? They’ve been down there for an awful long time.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want is for them to have sex on my kitchen counter.” Virgil winces at the image that appears in his head at the words.

After Roman yells down to Logan and Patton, Virgil says, “Oh, god. Please never say anything like that again. I do not need that image in my head.” Roman laughs.

“An image of what?” Patton asks, walking in the room with Logan not far behind. Thankfully, they had the decency to pretend like they weren’t just making out. But Patton didn’t have so much decency to pretend like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on their conversation. They drop a few Halloween-size, assorted candy bulk bags and two big bowls of popcorn on the bed.

“Nothing,” Virgil answers, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth. “Ooh, Sour Patch Kids.” He grabs four individual bags of them and drops them in his lap.

“Jeez, hungry much?” Roman teases. Virgil flips him off and takes another handful of popcorn. Roman tries to sneakily grab a handful of mini bars from the bag of chocolate-based candy, but Virgil notices.

“Jeez, hypocritical much?” he quips, smirking.

“Oh, fuck off,” Roman responds, sticking his tongue out like a little kid. Virgil sticks his out right back. Patton, who, unsurprisingly, hates swearing, quickly attempts to change the subject.

“Hey, I have an idea! Let’s play Two Truths, One Lie! Then we can get to know each other better!” he suggests. The rest of them agree, and Patton goes first. They take turns, occasionally sharing stories and facts about themselves. And when they get bored of Two Truths, One Lie, they switch to Truth or Dare, and Virgil has to eat a spoonful of mayo.

Patton’s the first to fall asleep. Not long after, around 2 AM, Roman and Logan follow. Virgil sits wrapped in his blanket cocoon in the darkened bedroom. He stares out the window at the dim stars, thinking about how lucky he is. He has three great friends who he can make memories and laugh with.

He turns to look at Roman, asleep on the bed beside him.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for surprising me.”

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides #high school au #fanfiction #fanfic #one day...

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typing-without-looking · 4 years

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Why do people find typing without looking so hard?

There are two ways to use a keyboard, you can use your pointers to hit one key at a time and spell out words and punctuation. This is also called the “Hunt and Peck” method. Alternatively, it is possible to place your whole hands down on the keyboard with fingers placing on the A, S, D, F, and; J, K, L keys, and thumbs hovering over the space bar.

You then pick up one finger at a time to type a string of keys and extract the spell from a series of coordinated and automatic movements. What is different about the “Touch Typing” method is that it requires some amount of beginner knowledge so that you can type the right keys with the right fingers. It also includes some of the most intricate movements that need to be trained until they feel comfortable and you can perform them at a faster pace.

Finally, do this without looking at the keyboard!

This last point, along with the fact that touch typists are much faster than the hunt-and-peck method, has helped many people learn keyboarding lessons. But not all typing efforts succeed. This is just because it only takes time for the muscles in your hand to develop so you can perform controlled movements that require touch typing.

It only takes time for the muscles in your hand to develop so you can perform controlled movements that require touch typing.

You also need a good course (one that focuses on accuracy before speeding), some feedback on your approach, the angle of your wrists, the right keyboard, and a strong desire to give up your two-finger typewriting. The most important thing is that you need to stop looking down! You can also look take typingspeedtest.online to check how fast you type in words per minute.

We've put together a list of the most common complaints people learn about how to type, along with our tips on how to overcome these challenges and get to the top as a typing master. But first, it is useful to understand exactly what is going on when you learn the keyboard.

The science behind it

Typing without seeing is enabled by muscle memory, sometimes also called procedural memory, and is involved in learning and mastering motor skills. You are taking advantage of routine activities such as riding a bike, playing the piano, weaving, or brushing your teeth, and brushing your hair. The muscle memory is stored in the cerebellum, a part of the brain that sends signals to your body with your fingers, so you move them automatically without thinking of action.

A man already negotiates in a language spoken in this way. Thanks to the muscles memory, we have a thought in our mind, translate our ideas into language, and then we talk through a series of many complex and coordinated movements driven by the muscles in our face, mouth, and throat. We automate the language we speak when we are younger, and we do the same for the written language when we learn and write the letters of the alphabet.

Automatic typing vs. writing by hand

Learning how to type is so important you don’t have to create a series of pen strokes to create each letter. Instead, your fingers can just press a button and the computer takes care of the rest. Touch typing is more efficient when you try to write a long essay with time and effort hands even if you are only typing it slowly at an average speed.

It is also possible to automate the spelling of words. This is because your brain does not need to fully process the words you type, your fingers are just running a sequence of movements. This is especially true for high-frequency words that you type regularly. The main precaution in muscle memory is that you need to learn proper movements before automating. Otherwise, you can teach yourself the wrong thing!

5 Common Complaints About Learning to Touch Type

It is hard not to look down: If you have been typing with two fingers all your life, it is very difficult not to look down. Unfortunately, this is a habit you get into! Try making two holes in the shoebox and invert on the keyboard so that you are forced to feel your way around the key. You can also consider taking a tea towel/dishcloth in your hand, typing in the dark, or going to extreme lengths to remove the key with the help of a marker. Remember that this last time you need to make sure that no one plans to use a computer that may need to see the letters on the keyboard!

My hands are too big, too small, or don’t go in that direction: An ergonomic keyboard can make a big difference if you have big hands as it gives you more space and room to move. Also, try the laptop keyboard against the computer as more pressure is required to select those keys. If the little hand is a problem, you have to wait until the child starts typing the lessons. For stiff fingers, move your hands before you sit on the lesson, stretch the fingers, bend them in different directions and massage your muscles with some cream before and after practicing typing. Remember that new movements always seem awkward at the beginning, but the ones you type will be easier.

Having trouble getting going: Turn off any background noise on your computer and type the letter sequence yourself. Pay attention to accuracy and don’t worry about speed. Next, type the same word over and over again and try to establish a rhythm. If you are still struggling you can use Metronome to help. If that’s the inspiration you need more of, go to a cafe where other people do touch typing. Stand by the window yourself so you can see your reflection and go through your lessons realizing how nice you look as part of this public typing club!

Make a lot of mistakes: You will make mistakes in the beginning so be prepared and take them to step by step. The most important thing is to correct your mistakes quickly before they become part of your muscle memory. If you continue to confuse a particular movement, have someone make a video for you so that you can see if it is your wrist, hand movement, or typing technique that could cause the problem. It can even be up to the position of your hands on the keyboard. To make it easier for your fingers to feel a key vs., you can also try placing a blue tack on a key that you find difficult to scan for.

Not very fast: When you are new to it, touch typing takes twice as long as finger typing because you have to learn new skills. If you are typing at a low speed and try not to get frustrated. Once you know how to type all the keys on the keyboard with the right fingers, you can start working faster.

Final Thought

kids can also learn to type. Once a child's hands are large enough to rest comfortably on a keyboard, there is no reason why they should not learn to type. The right approach can help them develop as independent learners, boost their confidence, and boost their literacy skills.

Touch-type reading and spelling is based on a multi-sensory program that introduces whole words driven by sound to help children and adults improve spelling and decoding skills.

Typing is useful not only in high school and further education but also in higher education when the written assignment is high and handwriting is required. Being able to type at an average speed is also an advantage for children if they take standardized exams on a computer.

#typing speed #type speed #typing speed test online #touch typing

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

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Shaking at the Knees

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Warnings: brief description of a car accident, deaf!Peter Summary:

This is a different take on a soulmate type of verse. People paired together can hear their person's musical adventures, the songs in their head, the ones they're listening to when they're listening to them.

It takes Tony 21 years to finally hear a song in his head, then a few years later - the songs suddenly vanish.

Or, the one where Peter loses his hearing and confuses the fuck out of Tony Stark for ten years.

This is part one of the Thunderstruck series - you can find them all on AO3: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

For the longest time, Tony loved music. He can still remember his very first time hearing a vinyl record. The scratch of the record when the needle first dropped always made his ears prickle and tune in. Then, oh man – the instruments would drop, and the lyrics would start – voices like Bob Seger, AC/DC, and Led Zeppelin washed over him and he got a little lost – every single time. After a bad day at school, he could come home and put on his favorite record and just – let go.

Tony wasn’t really the most – normal kid. His above average intelligence alienated him from his peers in a way that was hard for a 10-year-old to understand. The fact that he could repurpose an engine and understand his father’s blueprints wasn’t nearly as impressive to the kids in his class – no matter how proud Tony actually felt about it. When the need to be accelerated in school happened, he figured he’d finally start to fit in a little better – but being the youngest and smartest kid wasn’t much easier.

The hardest difference to swallow, the thing that made him feel the weirdest was the fact that he hated heard from his soulmate, yet. Tony’s mother died pretty early on in his life, so his father didn’t spend much time talking about her or their soulmate connection. Tony always had music playing around him whenever he got the chance – and hadn’t really thought about the lack of background music in his mind. Thunderstruck always seemed to be playing around up there, but he also loved that song and didn’t have a singular problem playing it over and over – no matter what his father said. By the time he turned 13 and some of his classmates were already starting to pair off – the panic set in. Well, not really panic. More like – dread. What could that possibly mean – the fact that he’d never heard a peep from this person that was supposed to be fated for him? The mere thought of being defective, of not being good enough to have that person settled in – slowly invading most avenues in life. Especially the thirst music used to bring about in him.

Graduating from high school before 15 left Tony with a few choices – all of which included working in his dad’s shop. Stark Industries specialized in restoration of vintage cars, each one with custom engines, transmissions, and body work. The further Tony pulled away from others around him, the further he allowed himself to fall down the rabbit hole of being in the garage until the haze of sleep couldn’t be ignored anymore. The better his skills got, the higher the caliber of jobs Tony got access to. His father’s private garages were beautiful, stocked with the best tools, and parts galore. It also came with a silence that the main garage would never be able to manage. Over the next couple of years, he became used to silence, even seeming to flourish in it. When it came time for college, Tony figured exploring mechanical engineering was a must – but also found himself taking interest in ASL – so he pursued both. Staying in New York allowed him to work in his father’s garage while diving headfirst into all things academic.

Then, something crazy happened. A particularly long night turned early morning – one of which Tony found himself slumped against his workspace – he awoke suddenly. The blare of something that sounded like The Wheels on the Bus sounded in his head. His hands slapped to his head, the man wondering if he’d had a bit more whiskey than he meant to the night before – but the top of his mouth didn’t taste like the bottom of his shoe like it normally would. No, the sudden awakening resounded in his head, he knew the second he blinked himself awake to be coherent. What the fuck was that – he thought, sleep glazed eyes looking around the garage one more time before he sighed deeply and waited for another sound, another sign of life. When he heard the same tune a little later, he let himself smile. For the first time in all of his 21 years, he could finally hear something. He tried hard not to think about the fact that the man (he knew it was a male, he’d checked out enough asses to know) was probably not a man at all, but a young boy – one small enough to still be interested in songs that repeated ‘round’ and ‘round’ like a mantra. A small piece of him couldn’t help but feel a bit of reluctancy at the obvious age gap. On the other hand, he couldn’t stop himself from being excited by the fact that there was at least someone on the other side of the line.

Later that night, Tony fished out his favorite AC/DC record, his fingertips brushing across the cover in a solemn sort of reverie. When the music washed over him this time, after so many years of a heavy silence, Tony felt the magic again. He relaxed into it, the smoothness of the sound something he couldn’t recall missing as desperately as he felt in that moment. Settling into his favorite chair, Tony picked up his feet and let them rest on the wooden coffee table before him. Though he’d never tell, he fell asleep that night humming the soft melody of that silly children’s song.

----

One of Peter’s earliest memories is the beating of drums. Until he learned how to block it out, Peter would get so distracted by a pretty constant thump. There were words of course, but the boy was too young to recognize most of them. He understood what the thump was, though. Many times, he’d been lulled to sleep by the sound of it – the steady repetition like a lullaby. The first time Peter recognized one of the songs in his head, he’s in kindergarten. His dad always dropped him off, but that day – his mother was home from the hospital early enough to pick him up excitedly when he ran out of his room at her – the two sneaking off together a few minutes earlier than usual to share a customary pancakes and sausage at their friendly neighborhood McDonald’s. Rides with his mother were always considered special, since she worked the night shift and seemed to be the most tired right as Peter was waking up. Not only was his mom one of his favorite people, things with her were so different than they were with his dad. Peter loved them both equally – well, as equally as any five-year-old could – but he cherished the time with his mother more.

The stereo always thumped really loud whenever he was in the car with his mother. She liked different things, including music and entertainment. Growing up in the 70’s must’ve been something, if all the bands and movies she liked had anything to say about it. They’re pulling out of McDonald’s when a recognizable thump is heard. For a second, he thinks about all the different thumping beats he’d heard recently and this one matched – but it seemed like it was surrounding him, instead of playing in his head. The young boy looked around, then smiled – his mother was drumming the familiar beat on the steering wheel in her hands. “This is AC/DC, Pete,” she said around a smile, her eyes glowing in a way that only happened when she looked at Peter. “Thunderstruck is arguably one of their better songs,” his mother managed to get out before she started to sing. Peter felt his breath catch in his throat, the younger boy overcome by the music that surrounded him – that wasn’t in his head – and the depth of happiness on his mother’s face. He now had a connection to the songs and when he heard them in his head later in the evenings, he found himself singing along (all the wrong lyrics, of course) the same way his mother did – comfortably and with a small smile on his face.

The next couple of years, Peter absorbed as much of the music like the stuff he heard in his head as he could. Initially approaching his mother for more songs made him nervous. The young boy hadn’t heard much about soulmates yet, other than the fact that they existed. He didn’t yet understand that most people could hear songs in their head – that you were listening to your other half’s vocal delights. He eventually managed to stutter through an explanation, the now seven-year-old way more invested in the music now that he could hear it in his head and – well, not. After looking at him with confusion for a minute, his mother shook her head and pulled him into her arms. She kept him pressed tightly against her for a couple of moments, the woman enjoying the fact that her son still allowed her to do something like this. Despite him being so young, Peter was so very smart and growing up so damn quickly.

“Oh boy, you’re hearing things already, huh? That, my sweet boy, is your soulmate. Those songs playing in your head are that special person’s favorites – what they’re listening to right now. Here,” she said in a thick voice – her body moving before she could let herself even think. Peter could only hear a fumbling sound for a couple minutes, then his mother came back with a small square thing attached to some headphones. A thick stack of something was in her other hand. When she kneeled back in front of him, Peter could see a couple of wet streaks on her face. “Try these. If he’s a fan of AC/DC, I bet he likes these bands, too. See this,” she asked, pulling the tape out of its case, “you put this where the cassette player opens.” Peter watched avidly as she slipped the tape inside and handed the player to him. “Put those headphones on and it’ll be like you’re right there with them.” Peter looked at the player for a second before he bolted forward, his little arms wrapping around his mother’s neck tightly. “Thank you, mama,” Peter mumbled, his nose pressed into the fabric of her shirt. “Thank you.”

From that point on, Peter carried the cassette player with him wherever he went. The now well-known lyrics were a comfort that the boy couldn’t even describe. Sometimes, the music was the only thing that got him through the day. School wasn’t the easiest for him – it could be said that he got picked on pretty ruthlessly. Peter liked school and understood what the teacher was talking about way quicker than the rest of the people in his class. No matter the generation, the smart kids always kind of suffered a little bit. It didn’t matter, though – his parents were amazing, he was starting a new Lego build that evening, and his music never left him. For the most part, things weren’t too bad.

Things changed the day Peter forgot his headphones. The entire day, everything seemed to go wrong for Peter. He’d forgotten to study for the pop quiz in his math class, left his lunch on the counter and had to buy from the cafeteria – all on the day he forgot the most important part of his key to comfort. By the time he was waiting in the line to go home with the rest of the third graders, Peter felt drained, sad, and ready to curl up with his cassettes on either of his parents’ laps. Seeing his mom and his dad in the car when it was his turn momentarily changed his mood – Peter felt his face break into a smile when his mom rolled her window down and waved, her happiness contagious. He climbed into the back of the car without another thought, his smile widening when both his parents greeted him, his father’s hand coming back to squeeze at his knee. It took him a second to get buckled and then they were off – his mom explaining that she switched her shifts and they were going out to celebrate. The promise of Peter’s favorite restaurant had the young boy relaxing into the booster he still needed to sit in – though, he could buckle it himself. The next thing he knew, Peter’s eyes were blinking awake – the sound of a loud crash scaring the crap out of him. He couldn’t remember if he screamed himself, but he can still vividly remember hearing the high pitch of his mother’s voice before things went black for him again.

The next time Peter woke up, his Aunt May and Uncle Ben were by his bedside. He looked around frantically, not understanding why his parents weren’t there, too. He spoke out – and all the sudden realized he didn’t hear himself. His eyes met with May’s when he tried again, the obvious terror in her eyes adding to the panic that was quickly overwhelming him. Small hands moved up to his ears, though they never made it – his Uncle’s hands engulfing them, instead. The panic took him over completely, then. Both of the people around him were crying and he couldn’t hear a single thing. Where were his parents? And why did his head feel like it’d been cracked open? He felt the tears fall down his cheeks, though never heard the whimpers that fell from his lips as the confusing, emotional tsunami wiped him completely out. It took both May and Ben holding on to him to get him to calm down. He clung to them, so confused but needing the comfort that his other favorite people in this world could bring to him.

A while later, May sat down next to him again, this time armed with a pad of paper and a pencil. Peter didn’t understand what was happening, his body hurting and his ears still not hearing anything – it was all so overwhelming. Her soft hand had him looking up, the pad out in front of him. Learning that his parents were dead and that he’d lost his hearing from that stupid notepad seemed like the ultimate ending to what would always be the worst day of his life. He barely survived the accident that took both his parents. When the car rolled, Peter’s booster seat kept him from leaving the seat – but the force smashed his head against the window. The blackout caused by the concussion probably saved his life – if that was any consolation prize.

Two nights later, after being brought to May and Ben’s place, Peter laid in bed, tossing and turning until he finally heard the music in his head. The sadness of the collection of songs matched the situation perfectly and only then was Peter finally able to fall asleep.

----

Soon after hearing a song for the first time, Tony felt the best he could ever remember feeling. His academic studies were going well, so well in fact that he sailed through his first set of degrees and was taking an internship with a sign language interpreter. When he first brought the concept up to his father, Howard Stark looked at his son with something that he could only describe as confusion. Tony wasn’t shy about his brilliance and excelled substantially in the garage. Howard hadn’t said anything to his son yet, but he’d slowly been handing over big accounts – the youngest Stark basically equipped to take over the business, despite not being aware of that fact. Yet, Tony couldn’t help but smile at the little hint of pride his father hadn’t ever been able to conceal from him, despite his best efforts. The hours for his internship would barely interfere with his duties at the shop, so he got to take the position with his father’s blessing. For the first time in a while, Tony felt happy with himself and the relationship he was slowly cultivating with his father.

Things stayed decent for Tony for a few years. He managed to get enough field experience with sign language interpretation to get some exposure and spent a good majority of his time split between the garage and his interpreter gigs. He enjoyed the ability to get lost in the silence of the garage, then put significance to someone else’s silence through his ability to translate and be a voice. For some reason, Tony felt some unidentifiable need to pursue that path – and wouldn’t be deterred by anyone that didn’t understand his desire. He didn’t really understand it much, either. Most of his adult life, he felt compelled – compelled to do well, compelled to be able to help – hell, compelled to be the best version of himself. Since his change in consciousness happened right around the time he started to hear his music, Tony figured he could contribute at least a bit of his success to the person behind the soothing tunes. Tunes that were surprisingly starting to sound just like the music he played whenever he was by himself. Either the kid had good taste, or Tony taught him right before anything else could taint his musical perspective. Hearing the hum of Old Time Rock & Roll early in the morning wasn’t the worst way to wake up, after all.

Tony got to coast for a while, even enjoy himself a little bit. Most of his twenties were spent in the garage working on his own creations, or out in the community – doing sign language interpretation for big community events, or personal interpretation for the people that needed more of a singular touch. He appreciated both aspects of his work and spent most of his free time trying to find ways to make both worlds meet. By 27, Tony made enough money to build another addition to the Stark garage that would allow him to create, fix, and reinvent engines, parts, and whole vehicles that would slowly start to put him on the tech industry map. With the new addition came the need for new employees – and Tony knew all the best people for the job. He’d been working closely with Happy since their joint internship after graduating from college. The man didn’t know a thing about cars and their parts but could keep Tony running like no one else could. Happy spent a good majority of his life with his hearing, so he kept Tony on his toes both with his big personality and his ability to transition from ASL to speaking without much of a thought. Tony couldn’t imagine running the aspects of his shop without the other man. Bucky and Steve came along a year or so after Tony got his new garage built. They were a little older but gave Tony a run for his money in terms of their engine knowledge and ability to spend hours at a time under a car instead of with other humans. Yeah, things were going well for Tony Stark – so well, in fact, he was impatiently waiting for the other shoe to drop like it did so many other times throughout his life.

That shoe finally came dropping a couple months after his 28th birthday. For all intents and purposes, Tony was already running the Stark Industries garages. He hired a new person to manage payroll when he opened his own garage, took on a cute red headed assistant named Pepper Potts – who could sling business talk and fire all in one sentence. Tony even went as far as to start planning upgrades to the main garages to make more room for their ever-increasing stock of parts and pieces that were needed to do the job the Stark Industries way – with utmost perfection. It shouldn’t have been such a shock to him when the company officially became his. Yet, Tony found himself drifting about nonetheless. The death of his father that ultimately put the company securely and singularly in his hands hit him much harder than Tony anticipated. The last few years, Tony actually broke through his father’s shell and seemed to even earn some pride from the old man. Before he passed, Howard actually gave Tony a hug – one that he never expected and couldn’t recall often enough. He felt a little guilty that their best days spent together were some of his father’s last – but then again, he wouldn’t change that fact for anything. At least he’d been able to make something of himself before the old man passed and for that – Tony couldn’t help but feel grateful. If he was going to spend the rest of his life as an orphan, at least he knew that someone had been proud of him – even if that someone wasn’t around anymore.

The first few months after his father’s death were rough. Tony wasn’t used to not being able to sequester himself away in his garage and resented the change. The resentment started to seep into his performance and before long, Pepper was pulling him aside – her eyes trying to portray gentleness, regardless of the fact that the situation now called for a little bit of a reality check. “You look like shit, Tony – and everyone is noticing,” she started, her arms crossing over her chest to assume a more defensive stance. “You’ve got to get your shit together. Or at least pretend.” Tony knew the woman was only trying to help – that Pepper was one of the only people keeping him and the business running. Stark Industries needed him to not only be the genius behind all of the masterful art they created with cars, but the face of the company as well. He wanted the silence back – even if just for a minute. The silence always left him to his will, never interrupted or expected. He could be himself with the silence. That didn’t matter, though. His father’s legacy demanded his attention and Tony Stark would never not rise to a challenge presented his way. “You’re right, Pep. Sorry, babe,” he replied with a painted-on smirk, the corner of his lips coming nowhere close to his eyes. “I’ll be better. Pinky swear.”

Then – things got a little worse. After attempting to get his shit together, Tony finally had things figured out enough to delegate tasks, attend meetings, and still spend most of his time in the garage. Between Happy and Pep, Tony got all the things he needed and could still claim to be running a successful business. Tony still craved the silence – the beauty of being by himself and the simplicity of the times when he didn’t have to answer to anyone. It wasn’t coming back, he reminded himself – he worked his ass off to get to this level of success. Yet, he couldn’t help but yearn.

And then – the silence came back.

Not the silence of a private garage like he wanted. Not the silence of getting to spend forty-eight hours up to his elbows in engine grease. No, the silence that haunted him as a child – the absence of sound in the back of his mind – that returned with a vengeance. One day, he was jamming along to Stairway to Heaven in the back of his mind and the next – the next, it was all gone. This time, the sound felt like an input cable had been torn from the player – the absence of sound so deafening – so final. Tony couldn’t understand it. There’d been so much life on the other end not even twelve hours before the total silence. He could even feel the joy radiating on the other end – though, Tony didn’t know if that was real or his own personal projection of feeling. Now, there was nothing. That sent a bone-tingling chill across the surface of Tony’s skin. He still didn’t know much about this soulmate connection of his – he’d never really understood it. Yet, he knew enough to know that having sound, then losing sound – well, that couldn’t be a good thing. Tony couldn’t imagine the possibilities, couldn’t understand the implications of something like this. He just lost his father – now he had to deal with losing this person, too? Not only did he not know what happened to the poor kid, he didn’t have the distraction of his sounds, either. The classic rock and small amounts of current pop was one of the things Tony always looked forward to relaxing into. He got through meetings thinking about what song would pop up next, or what mood his person would be in depending on the type of sound coming down the connection. Without it, what the hell was he supposed to do? The thought of going back to how things were before he heard the fucking wheels on the bus – he couldn’t fucking stand it.

A couple days later, when nothing came back across the connection, Tony finally let himself wallow. His favorite whiskey, which he usually savored for all that it was, remained clenched in his fist throughout the first couple hours of his self-pity. Tears fell as he pulled from the bottle, each tug sending a warmth through him he never really thought he’d be able to feel again. Little by little, he let the tears fall and all of the terrible feelings get lost in the bottle that was frankly starting to get a little too empty for Tony’s taste. The drunker he got; the more Tony felt his heart break at the absence of sound in his head – so he tried to make up for it. All of his favorite records were lined up behind his vinyl player, Tony indulging in them whenever he got the chance. Instead of pulling AC/DC towards him, Tony flipped through the rest of his collection until he found the perfect mood music. The sound of Ann Peebles and I Can’t Stand the Rain washed over the room and Tony felt himself sigh. The sound was reassuring, even if it didn’t resonate from the back of his mind like it usually did – he let himself drown in it, get lost in the lyrics and the soothing sound of Ann’s voice while she sang about sweet memories and sounds she can’t stand. The perfect harmony to the misery that Tony couldn’t and wouldn’t pull himself out of for a long time.

----

The first year or so after losing his hearing, Peter struggled. At first, the death of his parents overwhelmed him. Aunt May and Uncle Ben were great – they truly were. They were so supportive and without them, he wouldn’t have survived. The custody ruling went pretty smoothly since May and Ben were already named his guardians, anyway. Though he’d been staying with them since after the accident, Peter officially moved into a room when it became apparent that their place was now his place – that home wasn’t the two-story with a pool he’d shared with his parents anymore. May and Ben lived in an apartment in Queens – the place very small but roomy enough to not make it feel like they were living on top of each other. Little by little, Peter found a way to make himself comfortable in the little bubble of the room they put together for him. Sure, they’d decorated in a similar nature to his room back home and he appreciated that. He found comfort in the small picture of him and his parents that sat right next to his bed so he could look at it when he jumped awake panicked after a crazy nightmare that ended with the same crash and scream every single time. They were trying to make their place a home for him and he loved them for it – but there were things missing and his little heart couldn’t put forth anymore energy to pretend, even if that meant making his aunt and uncle feel just a little bit better with the situation. The only thing that provided him real comfort, even if he couldn’t actually hear the music, was the cassette player his mom gave him what felt like so long ago.

The transition from being a completely hearing child to not being able to hear and communicate brought Peter way down. May and Ben allowed him a couple of weeks to heal before they started to demand things from him. First, it was appointments with a hearing specialist. Then, when they found out his hearing was not only gone, but gone for good, Peter went for ASL lessons on a daily basis. Because he wasn’t in any shape to actually attend a public school, Ben took to teaching things to Peter. It wasn’t well known that Ben was one of the smarter people in the world. The mediocre job Ben held at Stark Industries didn’t do justice to the amount of talent and initiative the man possessed – but he enjoyed getting to spend time with his wife and Peter, so he settled. Peter found himself slightly surprised by the fact that his uncle was that damn intelligent, the small boy not really paying attention to things like that before the accident. Now, though – Peter never felt more grateful for his uncle’s hidden talents. The man was intelligent in all ways, too. Whether it was book knowledge, or hands on knowledge, Ben had an example and explanation for everything. Once the bridge of learning how to communicate was crossed, Peter found himself slowly starting to recover – in all the ways a small child of trauma needed to. He mastered ASL a lot quicker than anyone suspected, much to the relief of both May and Ben – and when they figured he was ready, Peter was enrolled in Midtown School for the Deaf.

Slowly, Peter started to make his way back towards the happy kid he’d been for such a long time. At the ripe age of 12, Peter started to work in the garage with his uncle. Their daily lessons didn’t stop after he started attending his new school, either. In fact, Peter would bring home loads of interesting topics that they would delve further into. They would talk with rapid fire hand movements, Peter working on his signing and learning more about all the things that he thought were so very interesting. They would pass tools back and forth silently, Peter becoming more and more familiar with the parts and pieces the longer they spent in the garage together. Ben took to having Peter around as a son the same way May took to protecting the boy. Between the two of them, Peter knew everything he needed to and then some. He worked on his lip reading with May while they watched Gilmore Girls with the closed captioning – and learned lots of things about soulmates and love and happy endings from her, too. In the days after his recovery, Peter worried he wouldn’t be able to hear the songs anymore, simply because he couldn’t hear at all. The days passed, though – and not much happened. The songs would occasionally get very somber and emotional, but Peter appreciated them all the same. The company those songs provided was something the boy desperately needed and couldn’t see getting from anyone else. May and Ben were so good to him, so involved in all the parts in his life that needed to change drastically – but they didn’t quite know. There wasn’t a way to describe what losing his hearing was like. There probably weren’t enough words to get across the intensity of the loss. The music, though – even if he didn’t know who was on the other side of the line, the music made it seem like things were normal. Hearing those songs, even as randomly as they’d appear, they made Peter feel like he could hear again.

So, Peter clung to all of the things that were familiar to him. His daily garage hangouts with Uncle Ben had him working his way around all the parts and pieces of their ’65 Mustang so easily. He felt so familiar with it, Peter figured he could put the engine back together with his eyes closed. That passion only seemed to grow the longer he spent learning his way around and getting his hands dirty. Ben, in his never-ending quest to teach Peter everything he possibly could, started to take him to the Stark Industries garages. He didn’t work the grandest of jobs there, but the garage he could access had plenty of tools and spare parts – all a little different than the ones they’d been using in the garage. Like a fly to honey, Peter absorbed as much as he could about everything thrown his way. His fingers knew their way around a manual transmission, the young boy able to change it out in a way that was both quick and efficient. The job didn’t take much communication with others and allowed Peter to get lost in what he was doing – lost in the knowledge of how the parts worked by themselves and how to put them together to make the most out of their functions as a whole. Peter understood so much about the different types of engines and was even able to make corrections that made the part work a little better. A part of Peter hoped that Mr. Stark would see him and realize that he was worth offering an internship position to. Ben mentioned it every time they walked into the garage, so many times in fact – Peter felt a bit of hope bloom in his chest. In all the time Peter got to hang around in the Stark garages, he’d never seen the illustrious man.

To fill the void between trips to Stark Industry, Peter made friends with one of the workers at the junk yard not too far from his home. For whatever reason, Ned took him under his wing and let him peruse the huge piles of car parts that were always sitting around. Peter would muddle through conversations with him as he cleaned the parts off to put them in his backpack to take home. After a while, Peter stopped by the yard not only to grab the parts, but work on them there, too. It seemed like, for the first time in probably his entire life, Peter Parker made a friend. A guy that wasn’t much older than him that was slowly learning his way through sign language and dreaming of being a computer genius – a guy that didn’t judge Peter for something he couldn’t really help. Peter appreciated the guy and wasn’t afraid to crack a joke or tell him about things he never thought to tell anyone else. Slowly but surely, Peter was growing into himself – something he didn’t think would happen so easily or without him really noticing.

By the time he turned 16, Peter was finally finished with his completely rebuilt car and ready to actually be able to drive it. Ben let him drive all the time after they finished up at SI’s garage or home from school when Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to make the bus on time. Yet, he hadn’t been able to drive his own car yet – Ben insisting the first time should be when he officially had his license in his back pocket. When the day finally came around, Peter started up the Charger, his eyes closing as he sat in the seat, the vibrations running through his chest making his heart pound. The only time he got this type of feeling, classic rock songs were floating in the back of his subconsciousness. He let the engine run for a while longer, the purring vibration an addicting feeling now that he’d gotten used to it. It didn’t hurt that he’d managed to create that vibration – that every single piece of the car he compiled together with his own two hands – from rusty frame to the freshly painted outer body. Opening his eyes after a few minutes, Peter glanced at the clock and put the car in reverse – he’d need to go a little faster on the highway to get to the garage before his Uncle Ben got off work (which, he couldn’t honestly complain about, if he were being honest). With a rumble, Peter put the car in gear and started towards Stark Industries.

What happened next would forever be something that changed his life – Peter not really understanding the entire extent of it until much, much later.

Upon pulling up to the garage, Peter beamed when all of Ben’s coworkers walked out to check out the car. He parked quickly, then hopped out to pop the hood – his smile growing at the thought of showing off all his hard work. The customized engine allowed for better gas mileage and the configured transmission changed gears so fluidly that its lifespan was a few years longer than a normal transmission. He felt pride in his craftmanship as the men took in all the work, some of them not even understanding what the heck he was saying and signing as Peter explained all the different things he did putting the car together. His uncle patted him on the shoulder a little while into his explanation, the man’s smile almost as big as Peter’s own. The squeeze that came next told him his uncle was proud, and the punch to his opposite shoulder told him Ben was so excited to see all the work he did for himself, too. Peter smiled at the man, then went back to watching all of the people he’d grown up around ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ at the work he did – at the machine he put together and all the things he managed to accomplish while doing it. All of a sudden, people stopped what they were doing and turned to look in the direction behind Peter – even Ben seemed to stand at attention. Slowly, Peter turned around and smiled – his obvious naivety not recognizing the man standing in front of him. No one said anything, Peter could tell through the close eye he kept on the people around him. A little bit confused, Peter shifted until he could see Ben, his hands moving quickly to ask what the heck was going on. His uncle didn’t reply, his eyes bulging a little further in response instead. He followed the path of Ben’s eyes until once again, they were staring in the direction of the man now standing a little bit closer to Peter than just moments before.

Peter finally turned his full attention to the man behind him – the older guy so shockingly handsome, it was a little bit distracting. His goatee was neatly trimmed, the hair on his head a dark brown – the locks a little on the longer side and done in a way that made it look like the perfect sort of roll out of bed messy. His dark eyes were looking directly at Peter and it took him a moment to realize that the man was moving his hands – the signs flowing seamlessly from him – as if ASL was as natural to him as it was to Peter. Dumbfounded, Peter smiled and signed back “You took me by surprise. I didn’t see what you said, can you repeat it?” He felt his smile grow when the other man nodded, the fingers of his right dropping to tap on his own chest – gesturing to himself. “I’m Tony Stark – they all probably stopped because I haven’t been in this garage in years. It’s nice to meet you.” Tony’s lips moved at the same pace as his hands, the man obviously familiar with both ASL and spoken language. When he was through signing, Tony held out a hand between them – a smirk on his lips. Peter took it quickly – the spark zinging between them making his heart race in a way that he didn’t quite understand. He clenched his hand for a second, the pulse in his palm so fucking distracting. “I’m Peter – and holy shit – you’re Tony Stark. I love this garage, Sir. You have the best equipment,” Peter signed back, his voice already overworked from all the talking he’d done earlier. A part of him wanted to see how good Tony’s signing was, too – but no one needed to know that.

The older man smiled, a hand going to cover his heart in a gesture of thanks. “Thanks, kid – you haven’t even seen some of the coolest stuff.” He stopped then pointing over Peter’s shoulder. “That looks like someone rebuilt that from the ground up. Was that you?” Tony signed excitedly, a weird look of excitement and passion flashing across the older man’s eyes. The look was intoxicating, drawing Peter in without a second thought. This guy looked like he was about to drool over the work that he’d done – what kind of dream was he in right now? This opportunity probably wouldn’t come around again, so he jumped on the chance. Peter moved to stand by the hood – his hands moving quickly as he too started to excitedly describe the modifications he made and the process he used to put the engine back together. He almost forgot that many people were around them watching this exchange – watching, for the first time in most of their careers, Tony Stark use sign language to have an over-excited conversation – probably the first time they’d genuinely seen Tony Stark in the flesh, honestly. The same squeeze of his uncle’s hand brought Peter back from his ramble – a blush slipping over his cheeks the instant he realized he’d gone off – the exhilaration of it all something so overwhelming, he didn’t really understand it. “Sorry,” he signed, his shoulders shrugging as he did. “I got a little carried away. It’s pretty cool, though, right?”

The exchange didn’t last much longer after that. Tony complimented his craftmanship, shook his hand again, then shot him a smirk before turning away and catching up with the guy Peter knew to be Happy standing over by the front door. The entire drive home, Peter caught himself smiling at the memory of the interaction and the reverberation of the song playing in the back of his mind over and over again. The person on the other side of the line must’ve been pretty happy if the repeat of Faithfully had anything to say about it.

Later that night, while listening to the song in the back of his mind, Peter let himself get lost in the music, then right before he fell asleep – he finally let himself think about Tony. The smirk on the older man’s face burned into his memory.

----

To say that Tony felt a little off his game the first time he interacted with Peter Parker would’ve been a total understatement. When Happy told him a crowd was gathered around a good looking car, Tony couldn’t help himself. There weren’t a lot of cars many of the people around the garage hadn’t seen, so something that brought about such a reaction had to be worth his time. Especially since they worked with luxury cars on a daily basis – this vehicle had to be interesting, maybe interesting enough to give Tony something to be excited over. Striding out of the building after a silent conversation with Happy, Tony took the walk through a couple different garages to get to the front of the building. He watched from the window of the waiting room for a couple minutes, looking around until he found the person in the middle of the commotion. Or, he supposed he should call the guy a kid – the young person no older than 16 or 17 at the maximum. His eyes beamed with a brightness Tony couldn’t recall ever seeing, and his smile took up his entire face. Round cheeks were stained with a red that probably painted them whenever the kid was happy, or sad, or embarrassed – and for a second, he wondered how far down the color actually went. Shaking his head of the stupidly inappropriate thought, Tony finally pushed his way out of the building. It was only when he got a little closer that he recognized the kid’s movements, his fingers forming signs flawlessly, perfect red lips were moving, but not often making complete sounds – like his lips moving was secondary to the fluid nature of his hands. That sight made his gut clench, a soft smile pulling across his lips before he could will it away. For whatever reason, he instantly felt a connection to the kid.

It didn’t take long for everyone gathered around the admittedly impressive car to turn and look at him, his entry into the space not nearly as smooth as he hoped it might be. Funnily enough, the kid was the last one to turn around, the same shy smile on his lips still firmly there, cheeks still cherry red with whatever emotion that seemed to be coursing through him. Tony watched with interest as the kid turned towards someone, his hands rapid fire signing – the man he was talking to obviously comfortable with this sort of exchange. When it was obvious there wasn’t going to be an answer, Tony couldn’t help the smile that slipped across his own face when the kid turned back his way – a curious look in his eye. Deciding at that moment to take this into his own hands, Tony started to sign, the words coming out of his mouth at the same rate he could make his body move through the signs. The look on the kid’s – Peter’s – face made his heart pound for a moment, the obvious surprise something that shouldn’t look as cute as it did. The closer he got to the other, the more of the car he could see and man – it was fucking impressive! The engine rebuild look flawless and he could already see the function of some of the obvious additions to the transmission. The kid had talent – an eye for this sort of thing, even. Something told him Peter did all of the work for himself, too. The kid obviously smart, obviously passionate about this sort of thing – his eyes on fire the entire time he talked about it. The whole thing was intoxicating to Tony, totally overwhelming in a way that Tony didn’t think he’d ever experienced. In all of his 37 years of life, he’d never felt a spark of connection the way he did with Peter – whatever the hell that meant.

After a quick exit and promise to himself to learn more about the kid, Tony got behind the wheel of his Audi – the itch to listen to music heavy the second he got into the seat. Happy shot him an odd look for a second, then smiled with a shrug – Tony listening to music was a rare and magic thing these days, so who the fuck was he to ruin it? Instead of saying anything, Happy let Tony fuck around with his phone – Tony’s fingers flying over the keys in search of one of his all-time favorite songs. Faithfully started over the speaker system and for the first time in a really long time, Tony let it wash over him. Since losing the song in his head, music didn’t hold the same place in his heart the way it used to. He couldn’t get through his time in the garage without it – the company of AC/DC something he’d gotten too used to over the years. Yet, he hadn’t let himself connect with anything since Ann Peebles soothed him to sleep almost ten years ago. It didn’t feel right, enjoying something the way he once did – feeling any sort of connection with sound when the person on the other side of his connection didn’t or couldn’t anymore. The resonating feeling Tony felt after his interaction with Peter, though – that felt like something to celebrate with some of his favorite tunes. He didn’t think too hard on that fact, simply allowed it to happen.

Getting back to the garage a few hours later, Tony went right to the computer and started to do some research. Finding Peter’s connection to SI wasn’t very hard – a simple search of his last name pulled up the name Ben Parker. He’d been working in the same garage for the past ten years and seemed to be pretty efficient in his work – and very invested in Peter – if the visitors log had anything to say about that. One Peter Parker started visiting the garage a whopping four years ago and Tony never even noticed. Of course, he didn’t spend much time thinking about anything other than his own work and the stupid schedule Pep put together for him. It seemed that the narrow focus he liked to have kept him from discovering this kid’s talent a lot earlier. A few runs through some of the recent security footage showed an incredibly talented Peter Parker doing a lot of the work under the hood or on the bench with one of the parts – taking it apart, then putting it seamlessly back together with hands of an expert, not those of a 16-year-old boy. In that instant, Tony knew he needed to do something for this kid – especially if his talent was to truly be believed. He could use someone with a mind not far from his own to help around the garage – to work with some of the more delicate parts that Tony wouldn’t trust to just anyone. With that decided, Tony made a few phone calls, getting the clearance from Pepper before calling the Parker residence to extend an internship to Peter Parker with his very own garage manager Steve Rogers.

Over the years, Tony taught most of the people on his staff at least a few signs so they could talk easily with Happy – and hoped he’d done enough to make Peter feel safe in the family that he created over the years of misfit mechanics and weirdos like himself. For some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, Tony felt compelled to take care of Peter Parker. Maybe it was the kid’s brilliance, or maybe it was the obvious talent that radiated off of him – whatever it was, Tony knew Peter was going to be special. If he could have a part in that, well – there wasn’t much anyone could do to stop him.

----

The next time Peter went into Stark Industries, he picked up his very own employee badge. Though he’d been in the garage for years, he never thought he’d get the opportunity to actually work in THE GARAGE. He hoped, silently, that someone would see his potential and scoop it up. In his wildest dreams, he never truly thought it’d be Tony Stark. His first day in the garage turned into the ultimate adventure. Being in the garage his uncle worked in, Peter saw lots of cool stuff. Walking into Tony’s garage, that was like walking into a completely different world. There were lifts he’d never seen before and a 3D printer in the corner that probably did a lot of their mockups. The tools were shiny and the sheer quantity of them made his mouth water. Peter spent time in a junk yard and still hadn’t seen that many things at his disposal. Getting the hang of communicating with Mr. Rogers was a little frustrating – the man going back and forth between talking to loud at him and muddling through signs – but at the end of the day, Peter knew his way around under the hood and didn’t need much direction. With all of these parts and pieces at his fingertips, Peter couldn’t wait to explore and experiment. The transmission in his own vehicle ran so much better than what they put into Uncle Ben’s and if he could adjust it to be universal, well – he could probably save people a lot of money.

Peter settled into his position pretty easily – his ability to work hard and think quick on his feet a cherished thing around the garage. Steve, or Cap, as people so fondly liked to call him, found a way to bridge the communication gap and became one of Peter’s biggest fans. While Cap had an abundance of hands-on experience, Peter had a mind made for solving puzzles and making pieces fit together in the best possible way. During their first engine rebuild, Steve didn’t have the right pieces, and instead of putting the job on pause – Peter hand crafted the piece himself, a smile on his face the entire time he puzzled together the singular pieces into the perfect part. In the matter of a couple hours, Peter won Cap over – and immediately had a great ally on his side. The hands-on things Peter didn’t know or understand, Cap taught him in the best way that he could. Like his Uncle Ben, Peter understood the other man in a way that not a lot of people did. It seemed to Peter that Bucky and Mr. Stark were the only ones that could really crack the older man’s shell. Now, he got to count himself a part of that illustrious group, too.

Working in the garage not only gave him access to the best materials, but the best mind in the car business, too. Tony didn’t spend a lot of time in Peter’s part of the garage – when he did, though, he worked closely with him. Tony always seemed to have a new project for the two of them to work on together, the older man so encouraging in the way he gave advice or taught something that not even Cap really understood or knew how to do. Peter found himself drawn to the older man in lots of ways, many that were probably too inappropriate to really think about – yet, he couldn’t help himself. For the first time in his life, Peter felt a sort of comfortability with another person that he couldn’t even claim to have with Ben or May. Tony’s grasp on ASL and inherent need to be helpful let Peter talk about whatever he wanted and ask all the questions his mind could come up with. His time spent with Tony taught him so much about his passion, the man’s knowledge of cars and the garage environment really was valuable, but his view on life and thoughts about whatever stupid shit came to his head were also so important to Peter. The boy felt like himself around the man and craved the connection between them whenever they weren’t together. He thought for a while that hero worship played a part in the way he felt. Peter did look up to the man for most of his life, after all. Yet, when he thought about the particular feeling that he hadn’t been able to chase away, it didn’t start until Tony started to open up to him – until the older man truly attempted to get to know Peter a little more.

The day of Peter’s 18th birthday stood out in his memory as THE turning point in their relationship. They were working on a new engine design, both gathered around the big computer in Tony’s home lab. They’d been meeting at Tony’s place for a while by then. The first time happened by accident. Elbow deep in grease, Steve suddenly remembered that he left an important receipt for one of the parts on Tony’s counter earlier that day and didn’t have time to get it – so Peter was sent on the errand. The property Tony built his house on felt so grand, Peter pulled into a driveway that reminded him of those fancy roundabouts in front of castles. Yet, it was delicately understated all at the same time. There weren’t huge marble statues or ostentatious lawn ornaments – simply a huge house flanked by a garage that could probably rival what they worked in back at SI. He looked at it with awe for a couple minutes before he decided to break his solitude. He took one more deep breath and enjoyed the vibration of the engine beneath him for another second, then turned the car off. It didn’t surprise Peter a single bit when he spotted Tony leaned against the doorframe of his front door, arms crossed in what he now knew to be what the older man considered to be his most relaxed pose. A soft smile pulled at the other man’s lips, the depth of the smile pulling the cute little lines at the corner of Tony’s eyes to the forefront. Peter returned the look without thought, his hand raising in greeting. Peter forced himself to take another deep breath – the roaring crush he had on the older man decided to peak its head out at the worst possible times. He thought he’d gotten the damn thing under control – but who the fuck was he kidding? A simple smile from the older man made his heart beat hard against his chest, the heat gathering from the force of it dripping into his stomach until he could hardly bare it – his focus completely shot the second he let the feeling overwhelm him. Standing in the man’s driveway was not the place to feel the steady thrum of familiar heat – so he quickly took the stairs to the front door. Tony placed a hand on the small of his back and suddenly the heat took off on its own – fire overtaking every inch of him. After that visit, Tony’s place became a little bit of a sanctuary for Peter, a place he could not only enjoy his time with Tony – but also a place he could give himself just the slightest bit of hope.

The invite to Tony’s place on his birthday didn’t surprise him – the man hosted parties for all his close friends and coworkers at the gorgeous house all the time. The fact that they snuck away from all the people gathered to head to the garage wasn’t all that off the charts, either. Peter spent as much, if not more time in the garage than Tony did – and when they were together, the time seemed to slip away – like nothing else existed but him, Tony, and whatever part they were working on. This time wasn’t any different, either. They were finally able to get his transmission modification generalized and the hope of all three of the cars they’d been working on performing was the final leg to their research. When all three of them struck and managed to switch gears simultaneously, Peter pumped both fists in the air – his excitement crackling in the air around him. He felt Tony wrap an arm around him and tap his shoulder three times – their little silent signal of praise. Despite Tony being able to communicate with him perfectly, Tony still seemed to prefer silence in the garage – especially when Peter was around. They would sign here and there, but there wasn’t a lot of exchange throughout their time together – a thought that at first freaked Peter out, then after some thought fit him just fine. All his life, people expected him to find a way to receive things from them and return the signal their way. Tony didn’t pressure and respected whatever mode of communication Peter felt willing to give and in return, the younger man did the same. The touch lingered for another couple of seconds before Tony pulled away and started walking across the garage. The man had a huge smile on his face when he turned to face Peter again, his hands moving for the first time in a while “This seems like the perfect time for some of the classics,” Tony signed, his hands moving restlessly as he then walked over to a glass cabinet Peter never really paid attention to. With the door open, Peter could see the collection of what he knew to be vinyl – his uncle’s own collection pretty impressive, especially if you asked the man himself. Peter hadn’t ‘listened’ to music since he lost his hearing – but he could remember the sound of all his soulmate’s favorites – the songs way more consistent now than they’d ever been. He wandered over towards the older man, his eyes wide when he saw the cover art for his favorite AC/DC album. “I haven’t heard this album since I lost my hearing,” Peter found himself signing, the boy not mentioning the fact that hearing in his head and hearing with his ears were too totally different things. “I love their stuff. Really miss it, actually.” Peter smiled with his last sign, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

Tony didn’t miss a beat – the next second, Peter found his hand being pressed against the speaker. The point of contact between them felt so warm – that all too familiar zing between them settling itself on the surface of Peter’s skin. For a second, he didn’t even think to look towards Tony, Peter’s eyes drooping instead so he could take in the way it felt – to be touched by the very person he craved so badly. When he eventually looked up, Tony was watching him closely, the older man’s gaze a mixture of things Peter didn’t really know how to name. He kept his hand there a second longer, then Tony pulled back and started to sign “Close your eyes and feel the beat. It’s like when you sit down in the car and start it up for the first time – that vibration. Get lost in that heavy thump – I bet it’s almost like hearing it again.” When Tony finished, Peter nodded and closed his eyes. He could immediately feel the vibration Tony was talking about and let the feeling of it pass through his chest. The steady beat changed, picking up a little the closer the song got to the chorus. All of the sudden – Peter could hear the tell-tale sound of Thunderstruck in the back of his head – a soft smile already pulling across his lips, this was one of his soulmate’s favorites. Then, like he was back in his mom’s car all those years ago, Peter felt the song surround him, only this time – it was in his head and below his hand, the drum beat of the song unmistakable now that he was really focusing. What the actual fuck – Peter thought to himself, his eyes flashing open. Quickly, he pushed against Tony’s shoulder – the man halfway through an air guitar riff – the touch eventually getting his attention. “What song are we listening to, Tony?” Peter signed, his sign for Tony emphasized. Tony tilted his head, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Thunderstruck, Pete. One of my all-time favorites,” Tony signed back, his eyes closing again as the powerful ending to the song crept closer.

It took Peter the rest of the song to put the whole thing together. After a considerably long time in the garage together, a delirious Tony told Peter that he couldn’t hear his soulmate anymore. The information came out of the blue – though Peter learned over his time spent with the man that many things were fighting for dominance in the man’s head and he didn’t always have control of what came out. While he told the story, Peter felt his heart breaking ever so slightly – a part of him hoping that maybe – well, that didn’t matter. Watching the person he’d come to love more than anyone in the world break down over something so gut wrenching was absolutely terrible. The man told him how long he waited to hear from that person at the beginning of life, then Peter listened while Tony told him how long ten years felt without the songs he’d come to really count on. The worst part was the sudden nature of it, or so Tony said, anyway. He didn’t know what happened to his person, but he felt a loneliness that most people probably couldn’t understand. Peter couldn’t say anything, so he didn’t – he simply wrapped the man in his arms and pulled him close. If nothing else, Peter understood the silence – the overwhelming need to hear something – anything again.

The suddenness of realizing that Tony stopped hearing his soulmate because his soulmate lost their hearing kept him motionless – the boy still long enough for Tony to look at him weirdly, the older man’s hand coming out to shake his shoulder slightly, even. “You alright, Pete?” Tony said, both his hands and mouth moving this time around – worry evident in his facial expression. Peter nodded, but still felt a little overwhelmed – this realization huge and still entirely too one-sided. “Tony, when did you stop hearing from your soulmate?” Peter signed frantically – his fingers moving fast enough for the signs to seemingly blur together. Tony’s face dropped slightly, his shoulders slumping just from mentioning the situation. It looked like he wasn’t going to answer, but then his raised his hands and signed “ten years.” The look on his face made Peter’s stomach clench despite what Peter now knew. “My soulmates favorite song is Thunderstruck. I’ve been listening to it since I was a child, Tony. That drumbeat – I’ve been listening to it in my head since I can remember,” Peter spoke this time, his voice a little rusty from a lack of use. “I lost my hearing ten years ago. Fuck – Tony, you didn’t lose your soulmate. I – I… just haven’t been able to listen to music – I haven’t had a song in my head in ten years.”

----

Tony could feel the kid’s eyes on him – the sheer magnitude of Peter speaking to him not getting lost in all the mess of translation. His heart thumped incessantly against his ribcage – the sheer force of it making him feel like it might beat right out of his chest. A part of Tony knew – knew that for whatever reason, Peter was put in his path and belonged there. He didn’t quite understand the way he belonged there for a long time. At first, Tony felt like a mentor, like he could share his knowledge with the kid and help make him better than even Tony could hope for himself. Peter was young and impressionable and Tony felt like he could do some good – he had a lot to offer to someone that could keep up with him. Subtly, that feeling started to change. The more time they spent together, the closer Tony drifted. Peter provided a sort of comfort and excitement that was unnamable and indescribable. Being an almost 40-year-old man feeling butterflies in his stomach for the first time seemed silly, but Tony didn’t think he could name them as anything else. Between his brilliance and ability to pull a laugh from the older man at the drop of a hat, Tony was hooked – and honestly didn’t feel all that bad about it. The realization, thankfully, didn’t come until Peter was almost 18 so Tony didn’t have to feel like he groomed the kid. The natural order of things was slowly starting to work itself out, despite Tony not understanding it completely.

So, Peter’s words weren’t the biggest surprise. Especially after he felt the vibration of the music run through him after he pulled away from Peter. The second the kid’s eyes closed, and he started to feel the music, Tony felt the same sensation – the realization of what that meant something he didn’t want to even think about. What if that wasn’t the case? What if Peter didn’t have a fucking clue what Tony was even talking about? Peter was way too important to the ins and outs of Tony’s everyday life and he would never risk that by making a grand assumption – or scaring the shit out of a young man that could have any person on the planet, regardless of the soulmate situation. But – Peter took the entire ordeal out of his hands and figured it out first. The kid really was much smarter than Tony and not for the first time, he felt so insanely grateful for that fact. He took a second to collect himself, his entire body so overcome that he felt like he might actually faint right then and there. Only after blinking the little black dots from his eyes did Tony even think to reply – his eyes already watery from the stupidly huge magnitude of emotions smacking him in the face. Waiting 39 years for this moment made it feel monumental – yet, the fact that Peter ended up being the one for him – it all sort of made sense, made all of the pieces finally fit together. For someone that spent his entire life putting shit back together, it took him a long time to add himself to that category. It was worth the wait, though – how could the beautiful man in front of him being anything else?

“I didn’t – I mean, I never thought to ask anyone about it. I didn’t know that was a thing and when I met you, our connection seemed so natural that I didn’t question it. Not even a little bit.” Tony said, his lips and fingers moving while the words spilled from him – his eyes still threatening to drip tears the entire time. “This is happening, right?” Tony’s smile was sheepish, but the question so legitimate. The wait for something like this seemed like forever and it felt a little like too good to be true – but also perfect all at the same time. Peter didn’t bother to answer, the younger man’s arms moved to pull him close, instead – their proximity making Tony feel so fucking weak. The perfection of their closeness made him feel a little crazy and his previous question all of the sudden felt silly. This – the connection between them now that they were pressed together so tightly, it felt right. “You’re my soulmate, Pete. Holy fuck,” Tony signed quickly before his hands became otherwise occupied. Both of Tony’s calloused palms cupped Peter’s cheeks, his long fingers found their way into the scruff of hair he could reach on the other. Then, only after Peter looked up and their gazes connected – Tony finally closed the distance between them, his lips sealing over the younger man’s in the most perfect first kiss. His eyes slipped closed and for the first time in his entire life, Tony forgot everything but the feeling of Peter pressed against him and the wet heat of their lips slipping against each other’s.

The kiss lasted until they were both pulling away gasping, Tony’s chest heaving from the lack of oxygen. The pressure on his chest reminded him it was real, though – the flush of his cheeks and the hard hit of his heart in his ears kept him level and in the moment. The moment in which Tony finally found the person on the other side of the line. He kept the grip on Peter’s cheeks for another moment, using it to press their lips together another couple of times before pulling back – needing the use of his hands. “I love you, Peter Parker. Something always told me never to give up, and when you came into my life – the something was so loud. I’m so glad it’s you, Pete.” Slowly, he rubbed across his heart, then finger spelt Peter’s name – the older man changing the sign for Peter right there in front of his eyes. “Mine,” Tony mumbled, his free hand holding both of Peter’s tight.

Peter pulled his hands away and Tony looked up, confusion etched into his brow for a moment, then a smile drifted across his lips when Peter caressed his cheek, a small thumb running across his lips teasingly. “I love you too, Tony. My whole life, I’ve loved you.” Peter said the words, his hands occupying themselves in the depth of the hair on the back of Tony’s head – the younger man’s slimness pressing against him ever so slightly. “I’m glad it was you, too.” The last words were spoken against Tony’s lips, the remnants of them stolen by the kiss that followed shortly after.

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #ironspider #tony #peter #deaf peter #mechanic tony #marvel fanfiction #marvel #fan fics #fics #thunderstruck #no better love

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my-darling-boy · 5 years

Note

Goodmorning✨ For the past few years I’ve been dressing in a mix of contemporary and vintage fashion. However, the past few weeks I’ve been having trouble feeling comfortable in my Victorian clothing because I feel I don’t fit the “look”. Especially as a teenager with acne, I don’t look like the pictures of people I inspire to look like. It’s been really discouraging and while I know it doesn’t matter how I look, it’s difficult because vintage fashion is all about the appearance. 1/2

“I don’t want to change the way I look, but I don’t want to feel I can’t dress in my favorite outfits because I look different. I was wondering if you ever felt that way and if you’ve had any advice. Love your blog btw, it’s been a great inspiration to me! Thank you for your time and have a lovely day💕🍓”

Hello! This is actually a REALLY good discussion.

I did actually feel this way when I first started dressing in period clothing. My face and body were no strangers to horrible acne breakouts, my hair refused to do certain hairstyles, my height at 5ft/152cm was still quite short compared to the old fashioned average height of around 5’8”, and other little things of the sort made me frustrated about dressing up.

But here’s the thing I’ve learned about people throughout history: their bodies haven’t actually changed.

Unclear by what we might see in photographs or paintings, acne has actually been around FOREVER. Today, it is in the top 3 most common skin conditions a person will experience in their lifetime. Acne is not a new concept; though media might try to pin it up all on poor air quality, modern day chemicals, and unhealthy foods, the truth is, none of those things have invented acne as references to acne in ancient religious text could certainly not be blamed on Little Caesar’s pizza. In fact, we experience around the same rates of acne as people did hundreds of years ago, and that’s coming from eras where people were urged to put strips of meat on their face for a healthy glow and bathe in radioactive substances to achieve the (literal) toxic Aesthetic of being delicately diseased. Sure, while dirt and grease can help induce acne, this still doesn’t account for the causes of hormonal acne or the natural appearance of acne no matter how much water you drink or how often you wash your face.

The people in photographs you may have observed with flawless completions were achieved through incredibly dangerous means. Arsenic, ammonia, lead, mercury, carbonic acid, and other incredibly toxic materials and devices were used to bleach the skin, burn away freckles, practically seal pores shut, and even warp cartilage in the face to achieve the desired Look. In the Victorian era specifically, obviously (white) western euro-centric, the fragile, dreamlike aesthetic one receives in the early stages of dying from a disease running rampant at the time like tuberculosis was heavily romanticised and desired with the slightly pink cheeks and flawless, porcelain skin.

The quality of the photos during the Victorian era, and even in the following Edwardian era, play a part in how we perceive their skin. Cameras often acted as a complete blemish/rash eraser because of how the camera picks up light and shadow. And no matter their gender, people often looked soft and glowing in their portraits, and it’s largely owed to the camera quality itself. For instance, in this photo a photographer took of me and some guys last year with a genuine 1900s Kodak camera, you would never be able to tell of the various pimples, moles, freckles, fine wrinkles, large pores, and other “imperfections” we had on our faces at the time. In the photo, our skin appears completely flawless

People had wild hair that was unable to be tamed! Brushes had close bristles that made hair appear frizzy and hot irons to straighten hair would severely damage hair, even burn it straight off if you weren’t careful! Special (usually toxic or unavailable today) hair products and means were used to achieve the desired hair! There were short men as there were literal whole battalions in WWI for men under 5’3” called Bantam Battalions, and I reenact one myself, the 15th Sherwood Foresters! People, especially the wealthy, would pile so much stuff onto their faces and do themselves up in ways that were not usual for every day Victorian life and purely for the photo! And knowing these things alone, I started to feel much better about myself in period clothing. Like, oh! these people actually did look like me!

Even though we have an extensive library of low quality photos from the Victorian and Edwardian eras combined, think about the range of people and their unique skin, bodies, faces those capture in comparison to the TRILLIONS of images captured YEARLY in modern day with high definition cameras which, as we all know, point out things in our skin we can’t even see in the mirror with our own two eyes.

In history, if it’s not written or photographed, it can seem like it never existed. It’s perfectly normal, and expected, to be a Victorian teen with acne, even if Jane Austen didn’t write about the extensive skin conditions of each character or cameras weren’t getting up close and personal with a person’s face! The truth is, people were VERY diverse throughout history in body, skin, hair, teeth, you name it; the internet, photographers, cameras, and photo subjects themselves just like to paint a different (often staged and biased) picture!

I’ll add: on top of the various dangerous chemicals and restrictive, uncomfortable clothing to appear Flawless, apperances were also sometimes further altered after the photo was taken by the use of painting over plain backgrounds to tighten in waists and appear slimmer. Painters of paintings themselves would often “correct” certain facial and body features at the request of the subject, as well as paint in backgrounds that weren’t actually there. Basically, people were finding ways to photoshop hundreds of years ago before photoshop was even invented!

My advice to feel a little more Historical, as someone who gets told that they look period a lot, is that a lot of what can make you feel more Period Looking can be found in simple changes to clothing and hair, depending on your gender expression. Instead of using modern looking fabrics, switch them out to cotton, linen, wool, or knits. Use button braces instead of clip ones, make things more high waisted. Switch out plastic glasses frames for wire ones, change thick silk ties to thinner and lighter materials. Wear undergarments that make the chest and body mimic postures or looks particular to the era (I don’t mean “look thinner”: corsets weren’t just for cinching in waists but also for posture and other period features, such as Edwardian corsets arching the back and smoothing out the chest. The divided breasts look didn’t come around until about the invention of the bullet bra). Do some research into hairstyles that work with your hair type, and see if there are any hairstyling methods that can be used in a safer or more convenient modern way (i.e. Victorian ammonia hair wash and hot fireplace irons are a no-no. But people brushed their hair with close bristled brushes or toothpick combs, and those are safe!)

TLDR; you look the same as Victorian people! In fact, we all do! It’s how we style and trim our hair or the way we dress and what we dress in that demonstrates the era we’re from, and sometimes it takes a little experimentation in modern day to figure out ways to mimic these styles

Hope this helps love! x

#asks #my little Edwardian skincare tip that’s actually not toxic:#I love using facial sprays with rose water in them #I have suffered from acne FOREVER #acne is normal but I was getting painful breakouts and rosacea all over my face #and rose water helped SIGNIFICANTLY even out my skin and take away the rash #rose is anti-inflammatory and I’m glad to say my painful skin is pretty much gone #I also take biotin gummy vitamins too and those worked wonders #beats the Victorians telling me to soak my face in lemon juice!#ok to rb #long post

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chrismalcolmhnd2c · 4 years

Text

Something New

©NESPRESSO

©DUALIT

“Learn something new. Try something different. Convince yourself that you have no limits” Brian Tracey

Research the Narrative

Point of sale product shots demand a high degree of photographic finish and quality.  They should represent a product at its highest quality.  

Within your blog/workbook, research product shots and advertising photographers. Demonstrate through annotation, your understanding of detail and presentation of perfection. 

Tell the Story

Choose an item that is brand new and blemish free and photograph it to the highest quality possible.

Your object should be photographed with a plain white background to show maximum quality.

Care should be taken to ensure that the best lens and viewpoint are used to maximize the product shape.

Edit and refine: Complete worksheet

High level retouching will be necessary as the object must be as close to perfect as possible. (even brand-new items will have flaws that need fixed)

Be prepared to use a range of retouching techniques to optimise this final file for use as an advertising shot.

The object should be easily dropped into other background so we will look at ways to cut out and present the object as a vector cut-out.

Submit: Final image on A3 canvas, and the object cut out of the background as a PSD. Upload to my city: Upload to my city.

Research

TOP 5: PRODUCT STILL LIFE PHOTOGRAPHERS

January 19, 2016 admin Brands

This week, counting down on our TOP 5, I am going to be listing my favourite product still life photographers, these are purely based on their portfolio and on their popularity.

STILL LIFE PRODUCT PHOTOGRAPHERS

1. Nori Inoguchi

http://www.norimichi.com/

Born in Japan, NORI Inoguchi was educated in New York where he refined his passion for photography. His love of luxury and desire to create visually stunning images inspired him to become a still-life product photographer; NORI seeks to find beauty in all of the objects he shoots. With his sophisticated eye and minimalistic approach, he has exploded onto the world stage and has earned bookings from the best names in fashion, cosmetics and electronics. His career has brought him to Paris, London, NY and even back to his native home of Japan. Using clean, clear and crisp techniques, NORI has created numerous campaigns since 2009 and he has since become a trusted name in the field.

2. Sam Kaplan

http://www.samkaplan.com/

Since striking out on his own in 2011, the 29-year-old Boston native has eschewed high-concept aesthetics and taken a more hands-on approach built around exacting precision—a sculptor’s finely honed interest in process and material. His approach might seem throwback, but that’s part of Kaplan’s appeal. Unlike many of his photographic peers, he had a rather low-tech schooling, studying fine art and art history at Wesleyan University.

3. Lucas Zarebinski

http://www.lucaszarebinski.com/

Lucas grew up in Bielsko Biala, Poland, a small city famous for goose down comforters. When he was 17, he dated an photographer named Olga who later inspired Lucas to become an artist even though he said ” I always wanted to be an artist but I was horrible at drawing.” In the few months he was around her, he realised that he had a talent for still life photography. He then moved to Michigan when he was 20, got a degree in Fine Arts and Photography while he parked cars at night and learned English from his 3 roommates. Fast forward 10 years later. He now live in New York permanently and creates images for a living.

He says in his biography ” I love creating conceptual images, pushing the boundaries of still life photography and resolving client’s problems with an inspiring imagery. I still like red beet soup and blueberry pierogis, but I also like beef with broccoli and spicy tuna rolls these days. ”

4. Jonathan Knowles

http://jknowles.co.uk/

Jonathan Knowles is one of the leading photographers of his generation. Specialising in graphic still life, liquid and beauty, Jonathan’s unique photographic style has earned him award-winning advertising commissions worldwide.

In the past ten years, Jonathan has consistently featured in the ‘200 Best Advertising Photographers in the World’ books. He is one of the top 10 all time award winners in the Graphis Annuals.

Notable commissions include campaigns for many globally recognised brands, such as Coca-Cola, Guinness, and Smirnoff. He is also the creator of the famous O2 bubbles.

He shot the Black Sabbath 13 Album cover, as well as directing and filming the footage that is currently played on stage during performances. Black Sabbath loved the imagery and invited Jonathan to the album launch in New York, where he received a friendly strangle of gratitude from Ozzy.

5. Zachary Goulko

http://www.goulko.com/

Like a modern Chiaroscuro master, beauty, product and still life photographer Zachary Goulko harnesses the power of light to infuse two-dimensional images with drama, shape, and volume. His moody, provocative photographs illuminate the power of a single moment: the arresting beauty of a face, the grace of a sculptural curve, the fluid interplay between light and color and form. It is the Moscow-born photographer’s mission to capture the essence of each subject, and to present its beauty to the world in fresh and unexpected ways. He is an exhaustive experimenter, conjuring moods, intertwining lines with rhythm, exploring the architecture of shape and light. His still life and product photographs are clean and precise, yet startlingly intimate. They achieve a level of visual poetry that is unique in the commercial photography world. With a fully equipped high end studio, based in the New York City area, he photographs product and still life images for many world renown beauty and cosmetics brands. Among Goulko’s clients are L’Oréal, Lancôme, Clinique, Estée Lauder, Strivectin, Shu Uemura, Frederic Fekkai, Patek Phillipe, de GRISOGONO, Roger Dubuis, and Zac Posen, . With a background in design and interactive programming, he is constantly seeking new ways to push the technological boundaries of his medium and give full expression to his creative vision.

Source: http://claphamstudiohire.com/top-5-product-still-life-photographers/

PRODUCT PHOTOGRAPHY IDEAS

Unusual and even extraordinary product photography ideas are what make many leading brands stay demanding and make people talk about their creative product shots and buy their products. Let me tell you how to do product photography like creative product photographers do. I’ve gathered 20 original product photography techniques and ideas for any product.

What Is Product Photography?

Product photos belong to a branch of commercial photography which is about advertising a product. There are several classical ways of shooting products: product photography on a white background, ghost mannequin, lifestyle product photography, motion images, photos of the product line, tabletop photography, photos of the product being packed, 360 product photography, etc.

Creative Product Photography Ideas

High-quality product photography is important for you and your client. Therefore, it is obligatory to choose the right strategy to demonstrate each product. But many photographers have a moment when they need to diversify the photos or add some creative elements. Here are some different product photography ideas for your inspiration:

1. One Second Before

This is an example of creative product shots that are taken right before something unexpected: an explosion, fall, etc. That is why you as a photographer should manage to catch the moment in the second before it happens.

2. Use Smoke

This product photography idea is a good way to make your product look dramatic. Use the coloured smoke if it is suitable for your product design. To make smoke more accurate, use Photoshop brushes.

3. Floating Products

You may hang some goods to make them look three-dimensional. Hang a product using a line, wire or rope. Then remove background or a line from the photograph of a floating product in Photoshop.

4. Association Game

If you need extraordinary product photo for a fashion magazine or billboard advertising, what can be better than funny surrealistic illustrations. Such photographs are typically taken in the studio using special product photography lighting kit and digital drawing techniques in Photoshop.

5. Motion Product Photography

This creative product photography idea is realized by means of short exposure and quick photographer’s and assistants’ actions. The photos are striking for a lot of reasons, but the thing that sticks out at first is how adding motion makes images pop.

6. Photo with Models

Give your product character and show the features that make it unique. Use different product photography ideas and creative lifestyle to highlight the product usage.

7. Combined Background

In addition to the familiar white background, I frequently use the background tone that is in harmony with the color of my product. These two product photographs are a good example of colors combination. You may combine the background depending on the product color increasing the image contrast.

8. Crashed or Broken Product

It is pretty a specific idea for product photos and not everyone decides to use it. It attracts people’s attention and evokes pity and interest to the product. It is better to get a shot at the beginning of product crash.

9. Use Reflection

You may use smooth plain covers with high reflectivity as the surface. For example, your product photos may be taken on an average ceramic tile. Make sure, you work in good lighting. In order to take such image, it is necessary to choose the right angle and lighting to get excellent reflection.

10. Product Absorption

This product photography idea has something to do with putting an object into the sand, water or other materials when you intend to put an accent. You may also use different tiny thematic items in which the product may drown.

11. Product Series

Grouping product images creates almost the same effect as zooming. Comparing several products in one photo a customer understands their main differences, volume, shape, size and other features. Moreover, it can persuade your potential customers to buy the whole kit.

12. Symmetry and Dynamics

To take this kind of product photos you have to put a camera at different angles. However, you should be careful while shooting obscure angles in order not to misrepresent the product. Put other products relatively symmetrical mixing them up with different small details.

13. Emphasize the Product’s Colour

Showing the contrast between the background and the product looks fashionable. But the main difference of this photo is an angle between the surface and the background, which creates a three-dimensional image of the lipstick. This dimensional curved shimmering paper underlines the color and the dimension of the product.

14. Sand Print

This product photography idea requires a special background. It may be usual clay, snow, sand, mastic or similar material.

15. Use Associations

Be as much creative as you can. Here Photoshop is you best friend who will help to realize even the craziest product photography ideas as to shape ketchup in the form of a tongue or a lipstick in the form of ice-cream.

10 Famous Product Photographers

https://spark.adobe.com/page/98pcx7gV8QkNW/

#somethingnew

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jvlicns · 4 years

Text

julian amante , twenty - three , cis male , THE TOWER .

amusing , candid , resourceful , petty , cataclysmic , arrogant.

first of all HELLO !! im z. 25 / she+her / pst. im thrilled to be here and honestly a little shocked ?? my app was a rushed MESS but im so happy the admins understood my nonsense !!

this is going to be a lil long so pls bear w me. im going to break it down into sections and eventually make an entire bio , but this will do in the mean time !

connections are here , & my discord is zvvf#1885 !

* tw for mention of drugs & alcohol

. . .

TAROT ━

the tower represents chaos , destruction , & upheaval. this change is usually sudden & unexpected -- & not always good. the tower itself is a symbol of ambition , but in this card we see it built on faulty premises & false beliefs , all of which are no longer useful.

the ruin of the tower is inevitable -- necessary for growth & groundbreaking renewal. it’s time to break out of the old ways.

AESTHETICS ━

cracked asphalt , bloody knuckles , tangerine sunsets. the smell of freshly cut grass . still , slow mornings. a neat row of fire ants , climbing up your bedroom wall. broken stained glass , an overgrown field. tears of laughter , the only you’ll ever shed.

money in a yellow envelope , guilt in your eyes , pressed flowers , a string quartet , corruption , loss of morals , student debt , a yellow light , darkness , hellfire.

THOUGHTS ━

" you’ve got your orders & that’s enough. you don’t know who’s telling you to throw your classmates off the scent , but you’re getting paid to do it. maybe your moral compass would stop you if you didn’t struggle so much in the financial department , but hey. you’re doing what you have to do to survive. if only you didn’t have to go against your better judgment for it. "

GENERAL ━

assigned to REYNOLDS house

fourth year -- senior .

currently working at the corner store as a cashier .

scholarship student -- 2.3 average gpa .

athlete , st. cade’s lacrosse team .

BACKGROUND ━

grew up in a small town in arizona , in one of those unfinished suburbs that ran out of funding halfway through a government project to “ upgrade ” that was met with widespread disapproval. it’s all empty pools & dirt lawns , a patchwork neighborhood of old houses mixed in with the new.

former golden boy who peaked in high school : star athlete , prom king , voted best smile. eternally toeing the line between CHAMPION & DIRTBAG.

well - liked , but known for being something of a hell - raiser. out every night , hungover every morning. it was less obvious back then -- he could easily brush it off as simple youthful rebellion , rather than a real personality defect.

his first taste of alcohol was in seventh grade. a summer night , with the sun retiring for the day but leaving her kiss on the still - warm pavement. his world -- previously filled with sunday school , tense family dinners , & 24 hour marathons of professional passive aggression , was forever changed. finally , the boredom slipped away. & not just that ! this was actually FUN.

but for someone with zero impulse control . . . a door opened , & he never managed to close it.

from a young age , his parents were always involved in the church. they attended every sunday , no excuses.

this lapsed as the years passed & the amante family found it more & more unpleasant to be in the same room together , but his parent’s beliefs never wavered. religion was used as a weapon in their home -- to shame & guilt. they claimed love , preached tolerance. what they practiced , however , was the opposite. as he grew older , julian managed to weasel his way out of most of their theological outings. he gained some freedom , in addition to the ire of his family. their disappointment in him grew from a tiny acorn to a mighty oak.

his parents had their own issues , long before julian came along. a marriage between two irreconcilable people. the love they should have shared mutated into something twisted , something that they could give only to their son. it was enough for them to feed him , clothe him , & put a roof over his head. anything else was simply asking too much.

despite coming from a low - income family , things have never been particularly DIFFICULT for him. sure , they struggled. he’s lost count of the times the power got shut off , or the water. but julian was the type of kid who could charm teachers into bumping his grade up to a 71% , despite the dozens of half - finished assignments & failed tests. he didn’t really have to try -- they just wanted to help him. ( pity , perhaps ? he turns a blind eye )

he coasted through school. one of those natural athletes that coaches & admin treat like celebrities , focusing all their attention on a teenager they have high hopes for. higher hopes than he had for himself , in fact.

julian never had dreams , not a plan for his future. all that stubborn arrogance fooled them : he’s spent the better part of the past seven years stalling. cutting corners & taking shortcuts , desperately avoiding reality.

he never expected to even leave his hometown , let along attend a prestigious college on a full ride lacrosse scholarship. somehow , he played enough games & passed enough classes to qualify for an opportunity that would pluck him from his sad , tragic storyline & deposit him on a shiny path to success. a fresh start.

he didn’t want to go. fought endlessly about it with his parents , his friends , himself. his place wasn’t at some hoity - toity school , surrounded by do - gooders & the conscientious. julian may have a knack for delusion , for spinning a story that suits him in whatever moment is passing. but he’s smart enough knows what his future holds : drinking himself to an early death in the very house he was born in. you can’t fight fate -- but you can surely postpone it.

in the end , it’s the boredom that convinces him. he’s said & done just about everything he can here , exhausted all the options he cares to consider. made plenty of enemies , as well as friends. built & burnt bridges.

the expectation of his teachers , his parents , were choking him. it’s foolish to think that this might be the way out – he’ll never change. but why not have some fun , while he’s still here ?

st.cade’s was a treasure trove for julian , filled with endless opportunities to amuse himself. despite his placement in reynold’s house & the mandatory church shit ( a part of his scholarship’s stipulations ) , it hasn’t been bad. another social scene for him to invade , conquests to be had , fights to provoke. the first few years were amazing : an intoxicated blur of his own little slice of this world.

he lives in the moment , greedily gathering every experience he can. nodding off in class , smoking behind the greenhouse , collecting all the free alcohol he manages to sniff out.

he’s learned this : a loud laugh & bravado can get you far. but now , his actions have finally caught up with him. the school is threatening to terminate his scholarship , to pack up his bags & send him on the first train home. & while he has no idea what to do , he knows he can’t go back. god , no.

even without what’s keeping him – the enticing mystery of helena’s disappearance , his friends , his freedom. he just can’t stand to go in reverse ; it would mean facing the consequences of every mistake he’s ever made ( & there are quite a few ! )

he’s a shark – he has to keep moving.

that first letter came soon after the school - wide assembly. small , neat type. direct. there was no mincing words , the sender made it perfectly clear : this is his only option. if he wants to maintain this lifestyle , this is the way. so he burns the letters , following their instructions. almost relieved to be given direction. it’s a respite in the current disarray – something he used to enjoy , but now just feels exhausting. he’s the band , humming away as the titanic sinks. not my business , he thinks. but he’ll drown all the same.

PERSONALITY ━

he’s an asshole but a F U N asshole -- that makes it palatable , right ??

not a dumbass , but the lack of impulse control + arrogance could have fooled me ! his intelligence is only hinted at , invisible unless you’re looking : reciting keats from memory , listing off all 79 of jupiter’s moons. remnants of past & fleeting obsessions.

has to actively undermine his own common sense -- for the laughs , of course !

selfish ; his needs & wants come before anyone else’s. a childish habit , yes , but one he’s been unable to break. ( not that he’s tried )

vacillates between aloof & dramatic. you can count on him to stir some shit up -- he adores chaos & just can’t keep his mouth shut. petty , to a fault.

he’s hot - shit & he knows it ; well aware of his pretty face & statuesque build. julian’s never been afraid of using it to his advantage , or even just reminding anyone around him of just how cute he is. ( listen up 5′s , a 10 is speaking ! )

has a strong aversion to authority. “ don’t tell me what to do ! ” . . . * quietly takes your advice when you’re not looking * . . .

the good parts of him are buried deep. his loyalty , his gentleness. a warm heart that can easily empathize , but chooses not to. julians pursuit of superficial gratification blinds him , warping his reflection like a funhouse mirror.

aggressive & unrelenting. this could be channeled into something of a work ethic , if he cared enough. instead , he uses it to get what he wants. whatever that might be.

curious as a cat with nine lives , he won’t hesitate to ask the question everyone’s thinking. that bluntness is almost appealing , as long as it’s not directed at you. this makes him somewhat of a good listener , even if he’s only paying attention to satisfy his own nosiness.

he’ll literally fight for the ones he loves. there aren’t many of them , but the sentiment stands. years of sports have taught him the value of teamwork , & he has yet to shake it. once you endear yourself to him , there’s no going back.

despite everything , julian manages to be a charismatic little firebrand. he’ll guarantee a good time , he just won’t help clean up the mess.

FUN FACTS ━

can fit his entire fist in his mouth

has The Loudest Sneeze Of All Time

once bit into an apple n saw a WORM inside so now he hates apples w a passion

right handed , but taught himself to be ambidextrous during the summer between fifth & sixth grade

promptly forgot he was ambidextrous & never uses his left hand

has surprisingly neat handwriting

can fall asleep ANYWHERE

likes country music ( will never admit it , tho )

his mother used to read him poetry , so he’s lowkey Very Into It

can’t carry a tune for shit , & his impressions are a w f u l. his british accent is just a cheap dick van dyke imitation , & his australian accent is what the british one SHOULD be

#atonedintro #i refuse to look at this anymore so im gna go play ac for 6 hourS

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animeniacss · 5 years

Text

What I Want - BadBoy! Taehyung x Reader Fanfiction Chapter 4 - Attention!

Synopsis: You are an innocent, excitable new girl, moving all the way to Korea due to your dad’s new job. As you anxiously learn about the new world around you and how you’ll make your mark, you stumble into none other than bad boy Kim Taehyung and his band of six crazy friends. He seems to be bothered but you, something he doesn’t even understand. Will you be able to tolerate the shenanigans of Taehyung and his rowdy friends, or will you fall victim to his charms just like everyone else?

Featuring Jihyo and Dahyun (TWICE) as your friends, and BTS members as Taehyung’s group of friends.

Genre: Romance, BadBoy!V, BadBoy!BTS, High School Romance, Drama

Length: approx. 5.2k words

Chapter 4 - Attention!

“Am I serious?!” You shouted to yourself. After you had walked away from the group of boys, your pace slowly sped up the farther and farther you got from the school. Before you knew it, you were sprinting away, it didn’t matter where, and you just wanted to be as far away from Taehyung as you could. You saw a big tree on your retreat, and you hid behind it, squatting down and covering your face with your hands. “There is absolutely no way I just told Taehyung that I was willing to help change hi into a different person! What am I nuts?! Oh my God, they all probably think I’m insane!” You let your head roll back a bit, and it rested on the bark of the sturdy tree. “If I wasn’t going to get beaten up before, I definitely am now. That was probably so rude to say…I can make him into a better person…tch. Oh my God.” You had no idea what to think right now, all you knew was that you could never pull off changing Taehyung even if you wanted to. He was obviously set in his ways, they all were! No backward new girl from out of the country could ever come in and change that…

…Unless You pursed your lips together, thinking really hard about what you had just said to Taehyung.

Deep down inside you, there’s a good little Taehyung just desperate to get out. One that actually wants to be a good person. I believe that. I just need to pull it out of you myself, don’t I?”

You thought about it again, and you did mean what you said. Though Taehyung looked the part of a tough bad boy and certainly did act like it, when he let his guard down, he just seemed like the average teenage boy, laughing with his friends and overall having a good time. It was just the skipping class, the constant fights, and the bad attitude that put him in such a little bubble. Well, all you had to do was just…encourage him to go to class, right? Right!

“Now that I think about it…” you began uttering to yourself. “I can totally do this! And once I encourage Taehyung, I’m sure the rest of them will follow suit!” You beamed to yourself, pumping your fists in the air in ignorant, yet eager determination. Standing up, you dusted the grass off your skirt and beamed. “I need to go home and make a plan. This isn’t going to be easy…” As you headed down the road to your house, you began thinking of different strategies and plans to encourage someone like Taehyung to want to be a good student.

The next morning couldn’t come quick enough, and honestly, you were pretty excited to see if you could improve. You had helped new kids adjust at school back home, and some of them came with questionable backgrounds. But with a little bit of kindness and encouragement, for the most part, those students were able to make a fresh new start at your school. This had to be the same thing, right? As you got up, got ready, and did your hair, you heard your brother come knocking on the door.

“Hey!” he called. “Breakfast is almost ready. Hurry up, or I’m going to eat it all!” When he didn’t get a reply, he opened the door and poked his head in. There he saw you, standing in front of your mirror, deep in thought. He called your name a few times but to no avail. Then, he groaned, grabbing your coat off the rack on the back of the door and tossing it at you. This immediately startled you, and you turned to your brother with an annoyed look on your face.

“What are you doing in my room?!” You asked.

“You weren’t answering me!” He shouted back. “Are you daydreaming about a boyfriend or something?” When he saw your face get hot, he laughed. “Ew, oh my god! You have a boyfriend!?”

“WHAT?! NO! Shut up!” You shouted angrily. Then, you heard it. It was faint, but it was heard. It was your father.

“Boyfriend?” You groaned, grabbing your belongings, you shoved past your brother and downstairs to try and stop your dad from his inevitable heart attack. When you made your way downstairs, you tried oh so desperately to calm down your dad, saying you “didn’t have a boyfriend” and “yes I know I cannot date until you’re dead, I know.” Anxious to get out of the conversation, you grabbed your breakfast, took a sip of coffee, and rushed out to meet Dahyun and Jihyo.

As the three of you headed to school, you were talking about homework, and school, until Dahyun brought up yesterday.

“So, did you get everything you needed for that test?” She asked curiously. You nodded.

“Yeah. I think I’m well prepared.” You said, beaming a bit. Jihyo chuckled at your enthusiasm as you guys arrived at the school. It was bustling with students, people waiting up against the wall until their friends or lovers arrived, and others were already headed into the building, switching out their walking shoes for their school shoes, and others already in classrooms, their faint silhouettes in the window as they talked with friends or scrambled to complete make-up work. As you three walked in, you heard a voice.

“Taehyung-Oppa!” It was the sound of a shrill-voiced girl, probably a year younger than you, and you saw Taehyung. He was standing up against the wall, a hand in his pocket as he chatted up girls that were walking past, each one giggling and saying hello to him. Then, for every boy that walked past, they would shuffle their feet quickly to avoid his harsh glaring.

So he’s not only a rebel but a ladies man. You thought to yourself as you checked the time. Class began in ten minutes, and you knew by Taehyung’s stance with his friends that he had no intention of moving from that spot anytime soon. It was up to you to make sure that you got him to class on time. You heard Dahyun and Jihyo still talking to you, but you turned to them.

“Sorry guys, I have to go. I’ll see you in class, Jihyo.” You waved. Jihyo raised an eyebrow. Where on earth could you possibly be going?

“Okay, but where-“before she could finish, you waved goodbye and hurried in the direction of Kim Taehyung. When Jihyo realized this, she gasped. “Where are you going?!” She shouted, but you didn’t answer. All you did was walk straight up to Taehyung, who was standing with Jungkook, the duo laughing about whatever the hell boys laugh about. As you got closer, you could hear it. They seemed to be talking about the attractiveness of some of the other girls that came walking past them.

“Oh, I think you’re being too harsh, Hyung.” Jungkook grinned a bit, nudging his friend as they laughed.

“No, I’m not. She has-“ Before he could finish, he saw you out of the corner of his eye and groaned. “Oh, crap.” He looked at you. “What?”

“Hi!” Jungkook said when he saw you approaching. You waved to him, before turning back to Taehyung.

“Class starts in ten minutes.” The boy snickered, shrugging. “…And?” he asked. “Doesn’t that mean you should go and leave me the hell alone?” You pouted, crossing your arms at his carefree attitude. As he continued to brush you off, and time was ticking away, you knew you had no choice. You grabbed his by the sleeve of his jacket, making him look at you again. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. However, you gave him no answer. You simply turned around and began walking to class, Taehyung’s jacket clutched tightly in your fist. Taehyung, who was taller than you, had to be tilted a bit because of the rough tug and was shouting at you. “What the fuck!? Let me go, you lunatic!” He shouted, but still received no response from you, you just kept walking. Jihyo and Dahyun watched the scene unfold, as did all the other students that were in the area. Jungkook was recording this on his phone, a big dopey grin on his face.

“The Hyungs are going to love this.” He said, before following them into the school building. You managed to drag Taehyung all the way to your classroom, your ears ringing with the constant swear words and threats, but you had to keep strong and did your best to ignore them. When you arrived, you flung the door open and alerted the attention of the students inside. Looking around, you made your way to the desk that had been empty since you started school, the one covered in doodles and swear words from the few times Taehyung actually did attend class and sat him down.

“What’s your problem?!” Taehyung asked again. He looked around and saw the other students looking in your direction, probably just as confused as he was. He quickly stood back up. “Who do you think you are telling me what to do?!” He asked. You responded with a hand on his shoulder. Giving a sweet smile, you gently guided him to sit back down in his seat.

“Class is starting soon, Taehyung.” You said simply. Taehyung blinked, looking up at you for a moment. What was going on? Were you serious? Why weren’t you afraid anymore, or avoiding him? He didn’t understand. You watched as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and slowly turned in his seat, looking directly at the front of the room and not saying another word. You stood by the side of his desk for a moment longer, hands clasped in front of you and a patient grin on your face as you waited to make sure he wouldn’t try and bolt. He could tell why you were waiting, and his eyebrow twitched. As he opened his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “I told you yesterday, I’m going to pull out that good Taehyung deep inside you.” And all Taehyung could do was scoff. “So enjoy class~.” He watched you as you walked to your seat, smoothing out your skirt and sitting down. Jihyo had already entered the class at this point, and was immediately at your side, scolding you for your behavior. However, you only replied with the same kind of grin and an optimistic attitude. It was confusing Taehyung. His head lolled back a bit, eyes fixated on the door as students finally left the area and made their way to their classrooms. He had about a minute left before the teacher would come in, so he could probably bolt now and make his way somewhere you couldn’t find him. He glanced at you again, just briefly, and saw you weren’t looking. Perfect!

…But why wasn’t he moving? He looked down at his lap, wondering to himself why his legs refused to move. He grumbled, swearing under his breath as he mentally tried to tell himself that he didn’t want to be in class! The others were probably wondering where the hell he was, and what was he going to say?! That he was in class?! No way! However, by the time he had enough power in himself to force himself out of his seat, the teacher walked in.

“Good morning, class.” He said. Then, he glanced at Taehyung. “Mr. Kim, so happy you could join us today.” Taehyung rolled his eyes, before looking back at you. He could see you were still giving that same smile you had before, and once again, his legs relaxed and he leaned back in his chair, hoping this class would go by fast. Unfortunately for him, though, it was a long period of nothing but absolute boredom. Taehyung found himself, resting his elbows against the desk, kicking the back of the chair of the boy in front of him, who was too afraid to tell him to stop and once again resorted to doodling pictures on his desk. You, surprisingly, were finding it hard to focus yourself.

You were taking notes and doing your absolute best to listen, but it was taking every fiber of your being not to keep turning around to see if Taehyung was still in the classroom. You hadn’t heard the door open or close, sure, but you assumed Taehyung was sneaky enough to do it without anyone hearing. However, the constant sound of a chair behind you creaking, and the boy in it groaning in annoyance reassured you that Taehyung hadn’t left yet. As the lesson progressed, you also kept thinking: Oh my gosh! I got him into class and kept him in his seat! I didn’t think this would work, but it did! Gosh, I was so nervous when he stood back up, but I stood my ground. Go me!

Excitement aside, you looked back up at your teacher, who was writing a math problem on the board, and you quickly scribbled it down. You found that, among everything else, you couldn’t help but think back to the face that Taehyung made when you made him sit back down in his seat. He looked confused, with an eyebrow raised and his lips slightly parted. You were looking down at him since you were starring, and you got to see his face in a new light. He was really attractive, that was absolute. Probably one of the most attractive people he- Realizing that your mind began to wander, you felt your ears become extremely hot. Looking around to make sure that nobody nearby had noticed, you covered your cheeks with your hands, only to feel that they were hot as well. You really had to go and start thinking about him like that, didn’t you? That’ exactly what he wants you to do. You thought to yourself, trying to turn your attention back to the lesson at hand. It was hard though, as you tried to desperately keep yourself from falling off the path you had set for yourself. You were only trying to make him a better student, in turn encouraging his friends to follow in his newly found footsteps and make all seven of them better in the long run. You weren’t going to fall for his flirtatious tactics, which was for sure!

By the time you and Taehyung knew it, the bell had rung and lunch break had finally rolled around. Each teacher that came in the classroom was surprised to see that Taehyung was there, and the class was just as surprised that he didn’t leave during any of the short breaks in between classes. Jihyo looked over to you once people began getting up for lunch.

“He stayed the whole time, I’m surprised.” She said. You turned to her.

“The day isn’t over yet.” You said simply, standing up and walking over to Taehyung, who was also standing up. “Tell me your mind is now enriched with all sorts of new information.” You beamed. Taehyung glared at you, not responding. “You going to get lunch?”

“Yeah, of course, I am. I didn’t bring anything, I’m not a kid.” He said simply. You held up your delicious lunch box, packed especially for you by your mom.

“You say that like a home-cooked meal isn’t the best thing you could eat.” You noticed Taehyung glance away from you after the comment, and you blinked. “Taehyung?”

“What?” he asked, obviously annoyed once again. You didn’t know how to respond. “I’m going to get something to eat.” He headed towards the door, and you followed. He was stopped when he felt you take hold of his sleeve again. “Ugh! What now, don’t tell me that you’re going to drag me there?” He said, turning to face you. He saw you looking up at him, a serious, and yet soft look on your face.

“Promise you’ll come back before classes start again.” You said. He was silent for a moment, a few kids in earshot turning to listen, curious as to what the reply would be. He felt his cheeks go hot for a moment, and he yanked his sleeve out of your grasp, crossing your arms.

“I do whatever I want.” He said simply, turning on his heel and heading down the hallway, out of your sight. You huffed, crossing your arms in disappointment. That sounded like a “hell no” if you had ever heard one. Jihyo soon approached you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t let it get to you.” She said. “You tried, but that idiots nothing but a lost cause.” When you didn’t reply to her comment, she patted your shoulder again.

“Let’s eat.” You nodded, grabbing your lunchbox again as you followed her back into the classroom.

Taehyung was storming down the hallway, hands in his pockets as he passed by the floor of the building meant for the first-year students. That was when he heard his name, and after turning to the sound, he saw Jungkook, rushing up to him and flinging an arm around his shoulder. “Where the hell have you been?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you sat in class this whole time.” Taehyung groaned.

“I was tired.” He said simply. “Didn’t feel like moving. But don’t worry, I don’t plan on going back over there. I’ve never wanted to gauge my eyes out more, it was awful!” Jungkook laughed as he led Taehyung to the cafeteria, where they grabbed some food and headed to their usual meeting spot, where the other five boys were waiting.

“Look who I found~!” Jungkook chimed, altering the boys in their direction. “And just in time too, he was almost swallowed up by the forces of education!”

Jungkook dramatically held onto his friend, both of them snickering and giggling in amusement as they joined the group.

“I was too strong!” Taehyung said proudly, flexing his muscles a bit. “They’ll never take me alive!” After a few more moments of dramatic idiocy from the two youngest in the group, Taehyung stretched, laying back in the grass. “It feels so good to be out of that stuffy classroom.” He said in bliss, sighing happily. He took a few deep breaths to let the air circulate in his lungs. Jungkook brushed some hair out of his face and took a sip of his iced coffee.

“Was it really that bad?” Jungkook asked. “I would’ve thought you’d have liked to be sitting there. It seems you had a perfect view in front of you.” Taehyung glared at him, and he grinned. “What?! You know it’s true, you probably spent the whole time looking at her!”

“I did not. Jeez, you’re so annoying. You like her or something?” Jungkook diverted his eyes.

“No, not really.” He said. “I mean not like that, I guess, but she is nice. Besides, you saw her first so you get first dibs, right?”

“First dibs!? Uh, no thank you.” Taehyung scoffed in response. “You can have her. If you want an annoying girl trying to tell you what to do. Grabbing on your sleeve every time she has something to say, and looking at you with those wide ass eyes, be my guest!” The boys were silent for a moment.

“No, please, tell us more.” Yoongi teased, smirking as the other boys began to laugh a bit. “I think you forgot about her gorgeous looks or her laugh or something else that makes me obvious you like her.” Taehyung felt his face heat up as he sat up quickly, glaring at Yoongi, who didn’t acknowledge it and only skimmed through his phone at pictures of his dog, Jimin leaning against him slightly so that he can also get a look at the dog.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at but I can assure you that that ain’t it.” Yoongi shrugged, not believing Taehyung’s obvious attempt at lying. The group sat in silence for a little while, just enjoying each other’s company and eating their lunches as they enjoyed the nice air in their lungs. It was starting to get colder, but, the air of October swiftly making its way into Korea as the warm embrace of summer air began to leave. Taehyung rested his head against a tree, his lips pressed together in a slight pout as he watched everyone else doing their own thing. He felt kind of off…what did he miss this morning while he was stuck in class? Did the others do anything fun? Crack a funny joke? Get into any trouble? It bothered him that he didn’t know, and despite J-Hope saying that all they did was lounge around an empty cafeteria, wondering where Taehyung was and watching the video Jungkook had recorded, Taehyung couldn’t help but still feel so left out. He didn’t want to mention it, the rest of them would probably just brush it off and tell him not to worry about it, that they would never do anything fun without the entire group. And that was true….but Taehyung couldn’t help but feel somewhat weird about it.

It’s all her fault. He thought to himself. If she didn’t force me to stay in class I could’ve had a good time with the others and done what I wanted. But she made me bored for all that time. Well…I guess I could’ve left when I wanted to….Ugh. Why do I feel so uneasy right now?! It’s pissing me off! I just want to stop feeling this way. Trying to push this feeling of uneasiness behind him, Taehyung looked at his watch. It was five minutes before the next bell would ring. He pursed his lips, wondering if he should go back. No, no way I’m going back! I don’t want to waste any more time there!

“It’s almost time for the next round of classes to start.” Namjoon pointed out when he saw other students walking past their little area. “You heading back to class, Taehyung?” Taehyung’s eyes narrowed at Namjoon, who let a little smirk form on his lips.

“No!” Taehyung stood up. “If anything, I’d rather sneak into the gym and play some basketball. Anyone wanna join me? The rooms usually empty by now.” He stated. The boys agreed, all getting up and heading towards the gym. Taehyung watched as students filed back into their classrooms, and for a moment, wondered what your expression would look like when he didn’t show up. But it was only for a moment before he reminded himself that he didn’t really care.

You sat in class, watching the door intensely as the minutes ticked away. There was no sign of Taehyung anytime the door opened. While he didn’t promise you outside that he would come back after lunch, you still had a small seed of hope in your stomach that the next time that door opened, Taehyung would stroll through the door. Whether he was in a good mood or not, you didn’t care, but you just wanted to see him come in. That would be the one thing you needed to truly know that Taehyung was a better person then he made himself out to be. Jihyo noticed you continue to stare at the door and patted your shoulder.

“Hey, as I said, he was a lost cause. Don’t beat yourself up.” You sighed, resting your head on the table. Jihyo was right, you could not make Taehyung, or any of the others, change their ways. You wasted your entire morning stressing out for absolutely nothing. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you heard the bell ring and students scramble to their seats. The teacher walked in moments after, greeting the class. After they stood up to bow and sat back down, the teacher began the lesson. It was only a few moments before you and the rest of the class heard faint shouting in the distance.

“COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE PRICK!” You sat up quickly, looking towards the door in curiosity as the class began to whisper in wonder about what was going on behind that wall. You watched the teacher stop the lesson and set the piece of chalk down, before heading out into the hallway. You were soon to follow, and Jihyo tried to tell you to stay in your seat, but you didn’t listen. You flung the door open and stuck your head out. The sight before you stunned you. A boy was being chased down the hallway, screaming and begging for someone to help him. Behind him, stone-faced Taehyung came racing down the hallway. Both of them were pretty bruised up, it was obvious that a fight had occurred, and judging by the scene before you, Taehyung had been winning. Taehyung shouted again, “Get back here! Let me kick your ass fair and square!” Jihyo was by your side when she too recognized the voice, and she held your shoulder protectively. You saw Dahyun and her class sticks their heads out of the door and window as well, curious about what was going on. The boy who was running for his life rushed behind the teacher, grabbing hold of his arm.

“Do something, please! He’s out of his mind!” Just as you were about to rush in to stop Taehyung, you felt a glimmer of hope when you saw Jungkook and Namjoon rush into view and grab him, doing their best to hold him back and calm him down. The others were standing in the distance as well, ready to jump in and assist if and when they needed. You saw Taehyung was now unable to move freely and took this chance to make your way over to him. You heard Jihyo call your name, but you waved your hand at her to dismiss her shouts. When you approached Taehyung, you frowned.

“Calm down.” You said.

“Get the hell out of my way!” He said. “I’m gonna –“ Not wanting to hear another word from him, you slapped him across the face. The slap was loud, it rang through the hall until it was the only thing that could be heard. Taehyung was stunned for a minute, his cheek throbbing as he looked down at you. “Calm. Down.” You said again. “It’s over. Whatever the hell happened, it’s over…” Taehyung’s breathing finally began to slow and he looked behind him to see his friends still trying to hold him down. When he was released, he continued breathing heavily, wiping his lip to reveal a slight trace of blood. Without hesitation, you turned him around and began pushing him down the hallway. “Let’s get you to the nurse and clean you up…” you said. For some reason, you felt embarrassed for him, but you weren’t sure why. Lucky for you, he wasn’t putting up a fight with you as you pushed him down the hallway and into the nurse’s office. The nurse was working with a few other patients who had gotten hurt while running outside in gym class, so you offered to clean up his wounds for him. Taehyung didn’t protest, he just sat silently with an angry expression on his face as you guided him to a seat.

Grabbing a first aid kit, you took his hand and examined it. His hands were bruised, his face had stopped bleeding, leaving only dried blood behind, and he had some scratched and tears in his uniform. “I can’t believe you got into a fight.” You said softly. “What was it even about?” Taehyung didn’t answer at first. “You better answer me, Taehyung.”

“Or what?” he hissed, glaring at you. “You’re not my mother. You’re not anything.” You smirked, holding up a cotton ball with peroxide dabbed on it. “I’m the girl who dictates how much pain you’re about to be in,” you said simply. Taehyung couldn’t help but snicker at that. He sighed.

“We went into the gym to play some basketball. That little…tch, that little asshole came in to get something and saw us. He told us we couldn’t be there because we weren’t a club, and we weren’t there for gym class. I told him to buzz off and then he started telling me that I should be in class. He said that you were waiting in the classroom for me to come back and that I was being awful for making your wait and getting your hopes up. And he kept talking and talking and it kept pissing me off.” He shrugged. “So I punched him.” You frowned. “I’ll give him credit. He got a few punches in before I got up and started chasing him.” He said simply. You shook your head as he continued to explain his reasoning to you. “He was getting on my nerves. I don’t need him telling me how you feel because quite frankly, it’s not even any of his business.” You pursed your lips.

“What if I tell you how I feel…?” you asked curiously. He glanced up at you. “I wish you were back in class on time, and I wish you didn’t get into such a stupid fight. I wish I didn’t even have to treat you this way, to begin with…” Taehyung sighed. “But I know you don’t care about me or my opinions so…if you want me to stop and leave you alone, then I’ll do it for good…” Taehyung glanced at you, then down at his bruised hand that was being held so delicately in yours. “I have no right to tell you what to do…that much is obvious to me now…” Taehyung didn’t like seeing you so upset…it made him…feel kind of guilty. He groaned a bit, scratching the back of his head with his free hand.

“I guess I can go to class…sometimes…” he muttered. You looked up at him, and he saw your eyes sparkle just a bit. “But only when I want to…so no more dragging me to class in front of the entire school.”

“Four times a week.” You said.

“Once a week!” He replied.

“…Three times a week?” You asked, batting your eyelashes a bit in hopes of sealing the deal. Taehyung blushed, looking away.

“..Yeah…sure three times a week.” He said. “But not Fridays, that’s my relaxation day.” You couldn’t help but giggle, and Taehyung turned even redder as you agreed. “Can we finish up here, please? I’m sure I have a meeting with my best friend in the world, President Bang.” You chuckled a bit. “He’s my best friend so he lets me call him President Hitman.”

“I doubt that.” You said, gently dabbing the peroxide dipped cotton ball onto his bruised and cut hands.

“OW!” Taehyung shouted. You snickered.

“Come on, tough guy, it’s just peroxide.”

“Yeah, doesn’t mean you have to drown my wounds in it!” Taehyung shouted. Once again, you had to laugh. You continued to clean the wounds on his hands, before dabbing away the dried blood under his lip. You both left the nurses office, you headed back to class while Taehyung strolled to the principal’s office. You couldn’t help but turn to glance back at him as he rounded the corner and out of your sight.

At least now, you’ll be able to pay attention in class.

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