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merryhelps · 3 years

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plotting etiquette : a players guide

[ coming soon / an admins guide ]

plotting is an essential part to writing together; whether you’re in a group, an indie blog or even a 1x1, you need to be able to communicate with your peers in order to build a story. and that’s why we’re all here, right? to create worlds, no matter what the context, and most importantly, to do this with others. roleplaying is a team effort - no matter what universe you’re writing in. below the cut are some helpful tips, tricks and advice to remember when attempting to plot with others. if you’ve found this guide useful, please like and/or reblog to spread the word - and hopefully help out others along the way. ***a part two will be out next week for admins on how to promote and help your group with plotting.

i. ‘i’m scared of bothering people!’

this is a statement i’ve seen the most often around the rpc - whether it’s from a various text post people reblog, or as an admin who’s been on the receiving end of messages like this.

it’s important to remember that most of us get a little nervous about reaching out. while writing original pieces or fanfiction can give you some distance between the creating portion and the feedback process, there’s no real space for roleplaying. it’s an instantaneous thing - we put our words out there on the screen, and someone else has to reply to that in some capacity.

whether you’re an extrovert, an introvert or something in between, this can often be the beginning of the end for a lot of roleplayers. maybe you’ve joined an established group, and it seems like everyone has set dynamics and you don’t want to shake things up. or maybe you’re an indie blog, but you’re too scared to talk to someone you’ve idolized and want to write with.

the thing is, you can’t expect people to know what you want if you can’t verbalize it yourself. let them know you’re a little nervous ! chances are, they are too. we’re all on this platform trying to do the same thing, and everyone gets nervous about exposing themselves to strangers now and again. ultimately, we put a little piece of ourselves in every character we create, and that can be terrifying to show to people and expect them to accept. but a little effort goes a long way - making the first move can often help build a bridge to someone you might not have otherwise gotten the chance to write with. you’re going to have to take a risk sometimes. while not everyone is going to be receptive, most people will be. and chances are, if you start with something as simple as “hi, i’d love the chance to write / plot with you,” you’ll be met with an extraordinarily excited new partner. understand that if they don’t, it’s not a bad thing ! some writing styles don’t mesh together, some people have a harder time talking freely than others, and so many of us regularly forget to reply to a message. know that if you’ve put yourself out there, that’s a huge step in the right direction, no matter what comes of it, and next time it’ll be even easier.

ii. come prepared.

this is ultimately where a lot of players fall short. it’s one thing to say ‘let’s plot’, and another thing to do it altogether. you need to have some sort of jumping off point.

some ideas include:

a prompt / plot idea.

this is especially important if it’s a new person you’re trying to interact with. it’s difficult to come up with things on the spot, and if you’re reaching out, you need to have something to reach out with.

in a group you’ll want to take the time to read their biography / about / wanted connections if they have them listed. it’s a quick way to ensure you have a basis of what they want, and how you and your characters can then fill those needs.

as an indie / 1x1 see if they have any ‘wanted plots’ or ‘prompts’ tags. check out their ask memes tags. ensure you’ve read their guidelines on both of these, and follow them. while most people have similar rules, you can’t know that for sure unless you’ve read through them.

questions about their character(s).

everyone adores talking about their own characters - give them an opportunity to let them tell you about theirs! even if they’re playing a canon character, they’ll have their own take on them, with headcanons and quirks and hobbies that might not show up in the specific canon the character comes from.

use ask memes if you need help coming up with questions - ask memes are extraordinarily helpful when it comes to fleshing out muses for developmental purposes as it is, and while they’re usually made for general tumblr interaction, they can be a great jumping off point for talking specifics.

don’t be afraid to point out things in their bio / about / etc. this shows that you’ve gone through and read their pages, which shows that you care about them as a person and a character, and not merely another faceclaim.

talk about your character(s).

it’s always good, especially in a group, to have a small statement of facts about your character. in business, this is called an ‘elevator pitch’ - a few concise sentences that can get someone else interested.

for example, merrick wood is a former cheerleader who would do absolutely anything for her sister, holly, has no real ambitions and loves the weird and supernatural. you can find her swimming, or listening to mix cd’s she makes for her own amusement, or even on the hunt for big foot. this now gives the other player a few things to pick through - what kind of music is she listening to? why is her sister so important to her? is cheerleading still important enough for her to mention it to someone?

iii. plotting is a two way street.

the above two points work on the basis that you’ve made the first move - but say you’re the one who’s gotten the message of someone eager to plot with you ! takes a little stress off of your plate, but adds to their own. no matter what, remember that there is a real person on the other side of the screen. be kind, and treat them how you’d want to be treated - even if you’re not interested in writing with them, let them know ! a simple thanks for the message! i’m honored you’re interested in my characters, but at the moment i don’t think we’d be a good fit is enough of a response that most people should leave it at that. if you get a message saying they’re not interested, simply say ‘thank you for replying!’ and move on. as stated above, not everyone will always click - respect people’s boundaries, and understand that you’ll find a new partner in due time.

responding to plotting messages is as important as creating them; if someone says they want to plot and gives you ideas, play off of them. don’t simply say ‘okay!’ or ‘cool!’ - a habit a lot of people have had over the years.

example. if jenny says “i think it would be great if robert could surprise them with flowers,” reply wth “oh how cute!!!” and end there - expand on it, adding your own input - “that’s so cute! denise adores lilacs, and would be flustered to get them from someone she admires so much!” the latter sentence gives your partner something to respond to, something to work with, and may just end up being in the thread you write together!

iv. don’t make your admins do all the work.

this section is primarily for group roleplayers.

your admin(s) already do so much. behind the scenes, there’s constantly updating the main pages, queueing ads, coming up with tasks and events and plot drops to keep players entertained and happy. at the same time, they’re trying to play in the group with you - create their own stories, write their own characters. they should not have to spoon feed you plots. these are things you need to develop on your own and with fellow players.

example. in a town rp, and you have a social butterfly character ? throw a birthday party for a character, giving the other characters something to participate in without an official Admin Sponsored Event. you should of course ensure the admin is okay with you having ‘events’ like the above for various players, and you need to ensure you’re inclusive in them - don’t ‘throw a party’ and not invite half the group because you don’t want to plot with them. take the time to message players of characters who might not normally show up and figure out something else with them, or a reason why they would be there or even why they wouldn’t!

v. stop bubbling.

at the end of the day, plotting together is the best way to stop bubbling from happening in your group. no one wants to be the player left out of everything - make sure to try and reach out to the others, especially if you think other players may be ignoring them. writing together - in a group, on an indie, anywhere really - is supposed to be fun and challenging and a different experience every time. before you go to your admins about being left out / ignored, ask yourself if you’ve done the above. have you messaged other players ? asked them about their characters, and given ideas of potential prompts for the two of you to write ? if you have, and you’re still getting ignored, then absolutely talk to your admin team! but try and be proactive instead of reactive and you’d be amazed at how far you can go.

hopefully this guide will help you - remember, your roleplay experience is ultimately cultivated by yourself. you choose which groups to apply to, which characters to bring, and your attitudes and behaviors can affect your gameplay. being in a group, specifically, is about being a part of a team. become a team player, and you and your characters can find the roleplay family of your dreams ♡

#rph #rpt #guide #plotting etiquette #writing help #rp advice #©#© | guide #© ashley #requested

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rose-madder-gaze · 3 years

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It's official! Here are the prompts for every day of FFXV Girls Week, which will run from September 13th through the 19th. All info (including guidelines and FAQ) can be found on the event's carrd, which I will transcribe the link to with spaces around the points to elude that good, good algorithm: ffxvgirlsweek2021 . carrd . co

This is a casual, low-stress event, so don't sweat it if you can't participate every day or are already busy that week! Using the #FFXVGirlsWeek hashtag will allow others to find your work, even after the fact. If you have any questions after reading over the event guidelines, please feel free to DM me here or over on Twitter.

Image descriptions are under the read more!

Day 1 prompt collection. Poem: Excerpt from "Witch-Wife" by Edna St. Vincent Millay. Poem start: She has more hair than she needs; In the sun 'tis a woe to me! And her voice is a string of colored beads, Or steps leading into the sea. Poem end.

Song: Night Like This by LP.

Prompt List. Column one is Verb/Activity: out on the water; errand hangout; late (to) dinner. Column two is Adjective: blue; sparkling; unexpected. Column three is Noun: oasis; favorite food; cobblestones

Five-color pallet: #C5FFFD, #88D9F0, #8B8BAE, #526760, and #374B4A.

Day 2 prompt collection Poem: Excerpt from "One Love Story, Eight Takes" by Brenda Shaughnessy. Poem start: But, I’d like to talk with you about other things, in absolute quiet. In extreme context.

To see you again, isn’t love revision? It could have gone so many ways.

This just one of the ways it went. Tell me another. Poem end.

Song: Everything + Everywhere by The Butchies.

Prompt List. Column one is Verb/Activity: long-distance call; pet- or house-sitting; visiting a museum, gallery, or monument. Column two is Adjective: rustic; tacit; mellow. Column three is Noun: garden hose; jazz or blues station; fairy lights.

Five-color pallet: #E09F7D, #EF5D60, #EC4067, #A01A7D, and #311847.

Day 3 prompt collection Poem: "Dreaming of Being Held" by ABV. Poem start: Is it longing or only wanting to be in your arms or for arms to be around me, to kiss or be kissed, does the want know or does it only know to want to want to know what it might be like if you loved me or I wanted to be loved? Poem end.

Song: Vanilla Sundae by Emily Burns and Olivia Nelson.

Prompt List. Column one is Verb/Activity: free for the afternoon; bike ride, skateboarding, or roller skating; caught in traffic or stuck in line. Column two is Adjective: abashed; enchanted; obvious or telling. Column three is Noun: skylight; grassland; pillow fort.

Five-color pallet: #EDEEC0, #433E0E, #7C9082, #A7A284, and #D0C88E.

Day 4 prompt collection Poem: Excerpt from "Poem for Haruko" by June Jordan. Poem start: Now I do relive an evening of retreat a bridge I left behind where all the solid heat of lust and tender trembling lay as cruel and as kind as passion spins its infinite tergiversations in between the bitter and the sweet

Alone and longing for you now I do. Poem end.

Song: Real MVP by Siya.

Prompt List. Column one is Verb/Activity: picking up an old hobby; looking for a lost note or message; finally doing something that's been put off. Column two is Adjective: ambitious; velvety; familiar. Column three is Noun: recollections; songs and sonnets; observation.

Five-color pallet: #EBD4CB, #DA9F93, #B6465F, #890620, and #2C0703.

Day 5 prompt collection Poem: Excerpt from "The Anactoria Poem" by Sappho. Poem start: she's not here, and I'd rather see her lovely step, her sparkling glance and her face than gaze on all the troops in Lydia in their chariots and glittering armor. Poem end.

Song: Know You by be steadwell.

Prompt List. Column one is Verb/Activity: getting out the fine china; laundry day; making a big change or decision. Column two is Adjective: missing or gone; ill-fated; multiplayer. Column three is Noun: hallway or corridor; holiday party; birthmark or scar.

Five-color pallet: #C33C54, #254E70, #37718E, #BCE784, and #ADF3F1.

Day 6 prompt collection Poem: Excerpt from "My Love is a Thistle" by Theresa Jean Tanenbaum. Poem start: My love was a soldier and a peacemaker and a caretaker And she’ll regale you with stories of far off lands Music flows through her hands which I know are strong enough to stitch me together when I’m falling apart. Poem end.

Song: Sing to Her by Kodie Shane.

Prompt List. Column one is Verb/Activity: going to a concert, music fest, or opera; DIY or asking for help on the internet; planning a trip or vacation. Column two is Adjective: tangy; brand new; riveted. Column three is Noun: chocobo; lucky number; soda pop.

Five-color pallet: #E1CE7A, #FBFFB9, #FDD692, #EC7357, and #754F44.

Day 7 prompt collection Poem: Excerpt from "On Word-Making" by Nomi Stone. Poem start: To love is to tell the story of the world. There was an ocean with a boat mountains a meadow too painful to stare at directly. Haven’t I been here before? Yes. No: not quite here. Poem end.

Song: Marrow by Thao & The Get Down Stay Down.

Prompt List. Column one is Verb/Activity: writing or sending a text or letter; watching the stars or planetary convergence; walking along railroad tracks. Column two is Adjective: final; unlikely; beloved. Column three is Noun: happenstance; last days of summer; the place we met.

Five-color pallet: #CEB992, #73937E, #585563, #5B2E48, and #471323.

#FFXVGirlsWeek #FFXV #Final Fantasy XV #FFXV event #FF15 event #long post #alt text #described #text heavy

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onyxiana-is-obsessed · 4 years

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Executioner II | Demon!Hitoshi Shinsou x Master!Reader

Hello friends! This is a part two to a server prompt I did last month and it was requested by @owoweeb I hope you like it and I’m very sorry that this is so late! It’s really long so I hope that makes up for it! It skips around a bit, I apologize for that and the ending doesn’t make much sense. Length: 3.2k

Executioner (Part 1)

Summary: It’s been about a month since Hitoshi made a proper pact with you, how is it going? What about that blood thirst of his?

Tag list: @sweetlikepeppermints @shiggi-trash @peachy-yabbay @boku-no-dumbass @happynoodle @neon-tries-writing

Full Name: (y/f/n) Quirk: Summoner; user can create a pact with and summon demons from hell to aid them in battle. Age: 20

It had been about two months since you had made a proper pact with Hitoshi, allowing him to stay with you for as long as you wanted. This also came with a number of other benefits, most notably your ability to actually control Hitoshi. Although he was a very obedient demon, you still needed to learn how to stop him from losing control. You had also decided to attend the adult classes to become a hero while training under your mother to become a better fighter.

Both were tremendously stressful but Hitoshi was by your side the entire time. He was always cooking the best meals, he was able to help with any sparring training, he gave the best massages, and always had a bath ready.

He felt like a godsend, which was ironic since Hitoshi was a demon. He’d made your life easier, better, and you were so happy he’d read your mind that day.

That night was great, you’d never felt so happy and safe before. You and Hitoshi were much closer than before. After that kiss, things seemed to change. You two had made it… kind of official. He didn’t ask you out like a human would, instead, he pledged himself to you for eternity.

He marked you with one that mirrored his, and was right in the middle of your back. It wasn’t just a regular mark, something your mother was sure to point out. It was a love mark. Something that declared you as each others forever.

At first, your mother wasn’t too sure, you two had barely known each other for a month but Hitoshi argued the opposite. Whether or not you loved him, his feelings would remain unchanged. He’d never felt this way about anyone before and he’d been alive for centuries.

Hitoshi was willing to give you time and you’d accepted thinking it was better to wait. But after a little while, you realized you felt the same. Besides, life was short. So why not bind yourself to a demon for the rest of it?

Every romantic act made the mark glow. It brought you both a sense of comfort and warmth. If you ever had a bad day or felt like your mental health wasn’t too great, all you needed was for Hitoshi to hold you. When the mark glowed, it fixed everything. Hitoshi’s arms were often a safe haven.

One you needed right now. It had been a long day with your hero classes, training with your mother, and then work. You were exhausted and everything hurt. The second you were at your door, Hitoshi was opening it.

He helped you out of your jacket and took your purse, putting it to the side. You could already smell the delicious food and smiled to yourself.

“I have a bath ready for you and so is dinner. When you’re done, we’ll eat.” Hitoshi explained as he pulled you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and inhaled his particular scent. He smelled so nice.

He took your face in his hands and placed a soft, gentle kiss against your lips. He was always so soft and gentle, something you adored about him.

After, Hitoshi urged you to the bathroom where you took your bath. It was exactly what you needed after such a day. The warm water helped relax your aching muscles, while the light rose scent cleared your mind.

You felt so rejuvenated afterward. You and Hitoshi had dinner together, another thing you loved. Even though he couldn’t really taste human food, he always ate with you.

Finally, it was time for your favorite activity. Cuddling. Hitoshi led you to the bed, letting you lay down first before he joined you. You laid on one wing while the other rested on top, protectively.

Hitoshi arms felt so nice around you and there wasn’t a place that felt safer. Even with such a dangerous demon in your house, you felt at ease. Enough to let yourself drift off. You knew in the morning when you woke up, Hitoshi would be right there.

***

Your eyes opened when the bright sun shone down on your face. You winced at the brightness, frowning a little and holding your hand up to block the rays. You turned around, facing Hitoshi and burying your face in his chest. You wrapped an arm around him and felt his arms tighten around you.

Ever since he came into your life, your mornings were so much brighter. Hitoshi would always be there by your side and this is usually how you’d wake up. Wrapped up in the arms of someone you loved so much.

You looked up to see Hitoshi's closed eyes. His resting face was so cute, he looked so innocent and peaceful, even though he was neither of those. Hitoshi was peaceful in a sense, but being an Executioner demon didn’t help. You and your mother were still trying to figure out what to do there since Hitoshi needed to kill to keep from losing control. The four men he’d killed the first time he’d arrived kept him going so far, but it had been months now.

“You’re staring.” He said, his eyes still closed, making you giggle and snuggle into him further.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumbled, kissing his cheek. A smile took over his face as he opened his beautiful lavender eyes and looked down at you.

“Oh? Are you choosing to lie now, master?” That was something a little bit difficult to get used to. Since both of you had an official pact now, he was your servant and you were his master. You preferred he call you by your name, but on rare occasions, he’d call you by your title.

You smiled and turned the other way, burying your face into your pillow with a giggle. Hitoshi only smiled and leaned over your smaller form. His hands were on either side of you, trapping you between himself and the bed. He pushed your hair out of the way and kissed your neck, slowly moving down to your shoulder. The action made your marks glow a dull (f/c) at first before getting brighter for a second.

You giggled and turned around, facing him again, a light blush on your cheeks. He finally leaned down and captured your lips. You weren’t a morning person and Hitoshi knew that, so he always did his best to make every morning great for you.

***

“No, I think you’re supposed to mix the wet ingredients first.” Hitoshi said pointing to the bowl with the milk, butter, eggs, and oil in it. You were currently holding the flour in your hand, ready to pour it into the bowl.

“Oh!” Putting down the flour, you grabbed the whisk and started to mix the ingredients. Today was a rather slow day, something you adored. You had no classes, your mom was busy, and you were off work today and tomorrow. So that meant Hitoshi had all your time today and you had no problems with that.

Currently, you two were baking a cake. You’d been watching some baking shows and suddenly had the urge to bake and decorate. So… here you were. You’d gone out and bought all the supplies you needed, and Hitoshi was more than happy to help.

Both of you were reading a recipe online and although it was pretty straightforward, it seemed harder than you thought it would be. As you mixed the wet ingredients while Hitoshi added the dry ingredients together, doing the same, an idea came to your mind.

“We should make chocolate! Oh! And chocolate-covered strawberries! We still have the big strawberries I bought a while back!” He smiled at your enthusiasm and nodded.

“Anything you want.” As you continued to mix the ingredients, you noticed something odd. Was… Hitoshi shaking? He didn’t get cold, well he was physically cold, but he wasn’t normally cold. Besides, it wasn’t that cold today anyway.

“A-are you ok?” You inquired, pointing to his shaking hand and he nodded, with a smile.

“It’s just something that happens when we’re out here too long. I just need time.”

“I can send you back if it’s too much.” He shook his head, denying your offer.

“Oh, no need. I need to get used to this world anyway. It’s better if I just wait it out.” You nodded, going back to what you were doing. Although, when you thought about it, you’d never seen any of the other demons your mother had shaking like that. But then again, you were young and didn’t remember much. You took his word for it, not wanting to question something that made sense anyway.

As you were mixing the ingredients, Hitoshi picked up some flour on his fingers and smeared it across your cheek. Your eyes widened and you looked at him, seeing his teasing smile. You quickly grabbed some confectioner’s sugar nearby and threw it at Hitoshi. Both of you quickly started throwing all the ingredients at each other, until Hitoshi jumped in front of you, his large wings spreading open.

You paused, your eyes staring at the wings in awe. They were large, longer than him, and pretty strong. You watched as they slowly lowered and wrapped around you, followed by an arm around your waist. Hitoshi tugged you towards him and you smiled at him as his lips came down to press against yours.

He picked you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands threaded into his purple locks, giving it a light tug. The mark on your back started glowing and grew warm as the kiss deepened. His hand roamed over your body, sliding down to your thigh and around your hips.

However, the oven beeping made you both pull apart abruptly. You giggled a little as he placed you down on your feet and you ran around the counter to the oven. You pulled the door open while Hitoshi placed the cake pans inside of it, ready to bake them.

Afterward, you two decided to start on the decorations. Since you’d wanted to make the chocolate covered strawberries, Hitoshi heated up the chocolate melts while you washed the strawberries. He also helped prepare the icing for decorating the cake.

You both had lots of fun decorating the cake and even though it didn’t look exactly how you pictured it, you loved it regardless. You and Hitoshi enjoyed the cake and the rest of the day was spent cuddling. Just how you liked it.

~**~

It had happened so fast. One minute you were grabbing what you wanted from the store, the next there was a villain attack. Everyone around you was screaming and running in a panic and you’d frozen up. That’s all it took though. The villain was on you, holding you hostage as the heroes tried to do something. No one was able to do anything, except wait and hear out the villain’s demands. She had plenty of them.

“You know exactly what I want! Move an inch and I’ll tear their pretty little head off!” She threatened, pulling at your hair, making you scream and reach for her hands in an attempt to lower the pressure.

The same fear from that night started spreading to you and tears spilled down your cheeks. You still weren’t strong enough to summon another demon and Hitoshi wasn’t with you. All of this hard work, pushing to try to be a hero, it wouldn’t work out. Yet again, you were helpless in front of a threat. What kind of hero would you ever be?

The hopelessness spread through your being and the determination you had started to fade away. You’d never be a hero. You’d always need someone’s help and you weren’t ever going to achieve anything.

The woman kicked the back of your knee, causing you to fall to your knees as she yanked your hair back. A cry ripped out of your throat, followed by a sob as you met her toxic green eyes.

“A pathetic waste of a human life.” She growled and you didn’t think differently. In fact, you agreed. You felt yourself getting weaker and weaker, before a scream tore your gaze away from hers. Both of you looked in the direction and your eyes widened.

Hitoshi was right there, but he looked nothing like himself. He was terrifying. His eyes were glowing bright pink and he was much paler than you’d ever seen him. Sharp teeth peeked out from his lips and the same red veins stretched around his body, glowing as if they were cracks in his skin. As he walked forward, black energy flowed up from where he’d step.

“Get away from my master.” He threatened, his hands clenched into fists. You’d never seen him like this and it scared you more than the villain.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill them!” The villain warned again, but Hitoshi wasn’t in the mood for listening to anyone, much less some pathetic villain trying to hurt you.

Chains burst out from the ground, wrapping around the villain’s throat and pulling her down violently. The second you got free, you stumbled to your feet, and dashed away from her. Two large swords appeared in Hitoshi’s hand and he disappeared from where he was standing and appeared in front of the villain. He raised his sword to strike the downed villain, however, something tackled him.

You turned to see a very familiar demon fighting Hitoshi. It belonged to your mother and you were silently thanking her. Hitoshi was out of control, you’d never seen him like this and the only answer was his blood thirst. What were you supposed to do?!

“(f/n)!” You heard and looked behind you to see your mother running towards you. You looked between her and Hitoshi before choosing to run to her, instead of your raging demon.

“MOM!” She ran to you and took your hands, pointing to Hitoshi.

“He’s lost control! You must take it back!”

“Wh-what am I supposed to do?!” You cried out, making your mother take your face in her hands.

“Breathe. Calm down. You’re not weak, (f/n). You’ve been training and you’ve been doing so well. Go and control your demon. You’re the master.” Ok, that was ZERO help, but a scream pulled you back and you watched with wide eyes as Hitoshi practically slaughtered your mother’s demon. He turned his attention back to the villain, ready to kill her too.

He was going to kill another villain. You were going to stand by while your quirk KILLED a villain even though you weren’t certified. You knew you had to stop him, if your mother couldn’t, no one else was gonna be any use. That large demon your mother summoned stood no chance against him. So your only option was yourself.

Without thinking, your feet started moving. You could hear your mother and the other heroes calling out to you, but you couldn’t stop. Not only were you already too far towards him, but Hitoshi needed you. You ran to Hitoshi and yes, you were terrified, but you needed to do something.

He was facing away from you as he raised his sword up, reading to kill the villain. He froze when your small arms wrapped around him from behind. Your mother screamed out at the top of her lungs as the heroes pulled her back. She didn’t mean for you to go hug him! He was going to kill you!

“Don’t do it,” you cried, tears sliding down your cheeks, “don’t kill her, Hitoshi.” You weren’t sure what you were doing, all you knew was that you needed to stop him. You needed to stop him before he’d kill a villain. Sure, the villain almost killed you, but you were uncertified and Hitoshi was still part of your quirk.

The only thing you could think of was to kiss that mark of his. You’d done it before, making it glow as it would whenever you two did anything romantic. You watched Hitoshi shiver and almost shy away. It was the most adorable reaction you’d ever gotten out of him… but what would happen now?

He stopped abruptly when the mark on his back started glowing, along with yours. A simple kiss on it and it was glowing brighter than ever. You looked up at him, watching as his wings lost those glowing veins.

The need to kill, the thirst for blood, slowly started to melt away as Hitoshi returned to normal. His eyes were back to their normal lavender, his sharp teeth disappeared, and the anger was gone.

He blinked multiple times, his eyes shooting to the swords in his hands. He had no idea what had happened but he could hear a soft sob behind him. He dropped the swords, causing them to turn to dust as they hit the ground, and turned around. He felt a pang of guilt at your tearful expression. The fear was practically radiating off of you and you backed away, flinching from him when he raised his hands. That hurt even more than the eternal pain he was supposed to feel in hell.

“M-Master?” He called out, softly, causing another sob to escape your lips. He had no idea what had happened, but he was sure it wasn’t good. He looked around, taking in the scene.

You must’ve gotten attacked when you were at the store and accidentally summoned him. Your fear was the last straw and he lost control, letting his rage and blood thirst take over. He could see your mother in the distance, with the same fearful look plastered onto her face, along with the other heroes next to her.

“I-I’m sorry m-master.” He whispered, backing away a bit. He wanted to run, run far away from you and give you all the space you needed. However, he promised to never leave your side until you wanted him gone, and even though you looked terrified, you hadn’t told him to leave.

Hitoshi stood a few feet away before getting down on one knee. His hands were placed on the ground and he bowed his head, like the faithful servant he was.

A hand flew to your mouth at the sight and you looked back at your mother. The fear was gone and a relieved smile had replaced it. You could see how proud she was of you and you felt the same for yourself. You’d done it. You saved the villain and tamed your demon.

“St-stand up.” You said, watching as his head shot up. His eyes met yours and you saw uncertainty behind them, yet he quietly complied. He stood up straight in front of you, ready to hear his punishment. Much to his surprise, you walked towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Wh-what are you doing, (f/n)?” He asked, his arms moving away from you. Weren’t you angry? He’d lost control and almost killed… well who knows what he’d done. He couldn’t remember anything.

“I’m so glad you’re ok. Thank you,” you said, looking up at him, the tears still slipping from your eyes, “thank you for saving me.” His wings came down, wrapping around you and his arms followed suit. He gave you a tight hug, thanking every deity he could for sparring you. For making you strong enough to stop him.

“I’m… glad you’re ok too, ma- (f/n).”

#mha #mha imagines #bnha #bnha imagines #my hero academia #boku no hero x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso x reader #mha shinsou #hitoshi shinso imagine #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #bnha shinsou #shinsou x reader

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sevenfactorial · 4 years

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Info about applying to PhD programs in pure math

This is... basically what it sounds like. I’m sure a lot of this is applicable to other PhD applications but I’m only very familiar with pure math. This is aimed at current seniors about to apply, but there is a section about prepping for applications in advance.

The highlights:

Recommendation letters are the most important thing. Most schools ask for 3ish. Try to get people who know you well, not just a student in the class. Someone you've conducted research with and one from a different institution are ideal if possible

Ask for rec letters at least a month before the due date is a good rule of thumb.

Research experience is probably the second most important.

Get the opinion of multiple professors who know you in order to build a list of potential schools. Then widdle it down to your will-actually-apply list (probably 8-14 ish).

My opinion but please apply to at least 3-4 safety/match schools. Even when you're fully qualified, acceptance rates are simply low enough that a bit of bad luck means getting rejected or waitlisted from a few of them.

Most pure math due dates are in early-mid Dec but a few schools are in Nov and some are as late as mid-Jan.

Schools will generally have their own graduate application portals. Some are better organized than others. Some require you to submit all your material before you can send a request for submitting rec letters so plan accordingly.

Acceptance letters will very slowly start going out in mid-Feb but the vast majority of programs won't send out anything until like, March and not be done until later than that. Accordingly, wait until at least mid-March to begin freaking out if you haven't been accepted anywhere.

You should 100% be expecting a tuition waiver and stipend from a program if you're applying for a PhD.

The rest of the posts is.... ridiculously long so I’m putting it under a cut. I mention things to do in advance to help you decide if grad school is right for you and things that make your application look good, give a full time line of the process, a list of things applications commonly ask for, and some miscellaneous notes. (The points above are repeated in more detail).

In addition, some links to other resources math students may appreciate:

an old post of mine about grad school apps (overlaps a lot and features some ranting from during the application process)

about REUs including my addition specifically about math ones

summer programs for undergrads that aren’t REUs by @counter-example and @jungleuniversity

Tips for prospective grad student visits

Also about prospective grad student visits by @thisurlhasbeenleftasanexercise

Also for context, I went to a large state school in the US for undergrad. I started as a CS major and added on math as a secondary major after my first year and dropped CS during third year. I’m primarily interested in discrete and algebra, though I have a significant topology background from undergrad too. I got most of my advice from people around the department, as I became pretty involved during my third year. Now, I’m a first year grad student at another large state school in the US, generally considered pretty decent though not a “top math program” at all. Not that much else has happened so far.

Things in advance (aka things to help you decide if grad school is for you and things that look good on an application)

Take the standard classes. For pure math, this is at least one semester of linear alg, abstract alg, and analysis each. Linear and analysis are also good for applied math but I'm not sure what else if anything is considered standard.

Take some grad classes if you have the option. Most people are not ready for this until senior year, but some do manage as juniors. Talk to people who know you well and the prof teaching the class before you do this though.

Try to get involved with research whether this is through independent studies at your home institution, REUs, internships, or other stuff.

Be involved in your department. This helps with getting you more personalized advice for applying.

The rough suggested timeline (assuming junior yr is your second to last year and senior is your last of undergrad)

Junior April: Take the math subject GRE so you can take it again in Sep or Oct if desired (perhaps not applicable atm). The general can be taken kinda whenever; I suggest fall of senior year.

Junior April/May: Start talking to professors/post docs/mentors/etc. about programs you may be interested in. Write/type it down. Don't worry if it gets long, you will shorten again later.

Summer: Do some research if possible; an REU or research at your institution (if an REU, also get your mentor's opinion on potential schools towards the end as well)

Senior Sep: Start whittling down your list. 8-14 seems to be the "normal" range of schools to apply to but some people panic and do more. Remember that asking for waivers is completely acceptable but applying is still just generally expensive (I spent around $800 for 10 schools)

Senior Sep: Apply for the NSF GRFP. You can apply as an undergrad senior and once during your first or second year of grad school if you didn't already get it. The due date is in mid-late OC but ideally you'll have a draft of your essays and ask for rec letters by the end of Sep, if not earlier.

Senior early Nov: Ask for rec letters if you haven't already. The rule of thumb is a month before the due date. Provide them a list of schools you want to apply to including due date and where/how to submit as soon as possible (as well as anything else they request of course; many ask for a resume and a draft of your personal statement).

Senior Dec-Jan: Submit stuff! Pure math programs typically have deadlines in Dec or early Jan. I think the big days are Dec 10th, Dec 15th, and Jan 15th but some are earlier or later. (applied math masters tend to be earlier I think; in Nov). I suggest putting them all into a list or calendar. In addition, some schools won't let letter writers submit until all of your stuff is submitted so start applications early, even if you don't finish them immediately.

Senior Feb: Programs will slowly start sending out offers in early Feb and pick up in mid Feb, but don't fret until AT LEAST the beginning of March! Grad programs are just way too slow at getting out offers for it to be worth worrying until then (and even then, it's definitely not time to panic but mathematicians are frequently anxious people so I get it). Waitlists are slower to come out; usually starting in early March. Also note, there are many programs that don't actually send out replies to everyone unfortunately.

Senior late Feb-early April: prospective student days! They might be online in 2021 unfortunately but try to attend whatever form they're in if you can (only one of my visits during spring 2020 was online since the others happen to be very early and safely beat covid in the US). Be warned, it's very possible to get offers of admissions and to visit very last minute. I do not have advice for how to make that less stressful.

Senior April 15th: Common reply deadline. If you got your offer in the first round or two, this is probably your deadline to accept. In addition, this means more offers will likely come out shortly after once more people have declined.

Senior summer: graduate. Send a completed, official transcript to your new institution. Check your new email account for stuff you're suppose to do. Some programs have some sort of program during the summer for in-coming students. Most places have graduate student training of some sort for a week or two before semester starts.

Some common things to be asked for in applications

Not actually a thing asked for but many graduate schools have their own portal for which you will have to make an account to submit an application. A few use a common system that kinda sort shares a database of accounts? Some are fine and some massively suck.

Personal Statement/Statement of Purpose: Occasionally called something else and once in a while actually separate things; will usually have a prompt of wildly differing specificity. Sometimes, the prompts come from the department itself and sometimes from the university's graduate school. I suggest having one or two "base" essays then tweaking them for each school. Sometimes a word/page limit is specified but if it's not, around 2 pages/1000 words is pretty reasonable.

Transcript. Some accept unofficial but some require official but generally not an unsealed one. I ordered myself one official transcript and sent it to multiple schools instead of paying for them to be sent to each school during the application process.

Resume or CV: Most ask for either a CV or is fine with either, in which case I give them my CV. I sent more or less the same one everywhere.

Some other notes

Yes, ask for application waivers. Just be polite about it.

Your goals for your essays are primarily to show that you're interested in math and math research and are capable of like…. writing things that make sense

Do not start out an essay with either "I loved math since I was little" or "I actually didn't like math when I was young" or any variations of those. (I had one essay that started with a mildly humourous anecdote from undergrad combinatorics and another that talked about how my undergrad department has greatly affected me).

You should 100% expect to get a tuition waiver and living stipend as part of a TA fellowship (or more rarely, an research fellowship) as part of your offer of acceptance for a math PhD program (pure or applied). Health insurance is also frequently part of the package. This is not true of masters programs unfortunately.

How schools do waitlists depend wildly though most don't have super long ones like prestigious undergrads do. If you're still interested in a place you're waitlisted at, follow their instructions to confirm your placement on the waitlist then wait until April before following up again, expressing your continued interest and asking for an update. You might even want to wait until around the common deadline, April 15th. The number of people who declined before April is just really really low so nothing really happens until then.

#grad school applications #math grad school applications #math phd applications #math grad school application tips #math grad school application advise #seriously not qualified beyond i managed to do it #but hey it's good to have more people's advice for cross referencing!#seven stories #long post #grad school #god

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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

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The Shops on Shield Street

Steggy Week 2k20, day 4 Prompt: AUs and crossover

Summary: Running a small business is already hard enough without someone trying to sabotage things.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents for organizing!

The first time Peggy visits Steve’s shop is the day he opens.

Working just down the street, she’s spent the past few months watching the renovations at what had been most recently been a short-lived scented candle business. When the new signs and awnings had gone up naming it as Shield Street Books, she’d been further intrigued; she’s seen various stores come and go through the space, but a bookshop is new. Now, on her lunch break, she takes the opportunity to go visit.

She looks over the front windows first: the right-hand side is filled with buzzy new releases and bestsellers for adults, the left with books for younger readers. The windows themselves are painted with a colorful but subtle border of books on the right, while the left side features lovely illustrations of Wild Things marauding across the bottom, a mockingjay pin hidden along the side, a Little Prince floating among the stars at the top, and a web reading “Some Pig” in the corner. The chalk sign reads “Grand opening” on one side and “Ask us about our events!” on the other.

Peggy is cautiously optimistic as she steps in, a cheerful little bell jingling as she does. The space isn’t cavernous but it’s large enough, and the high ceilings, big front windows, light wood flooring and shelves, and friendly gray-green walls make it seem more open. The checkout is easily visible, a chalkboard wall above it featuring a listing of upcoming book club meetings, a coffee and cookies social series, and a reading by a local poet (Peggy supposes that you have to be a bit more established to start getting better-known names).

The front area has all the typical souvenirs everyone around here sells - magnets, mugs, pens, postcards - along with fancier or more specifically bookish things like scarves, tote bags, and book weights which seem to be attracting some good attention. A few people are looking at the cookbooks and coffee table books lining the walls and stacked on tables nearby, and she can see browsers in the labeled aisles spanning out into the main area of the store: mystery, biography and memoir, young adult, politics, each with an appropriate, particularly-styled illustration. A sign pointing downstairs advertises a used book area, as well as a gallery and event space. She breathes in the scent of fresh wood and words on paper, officially impressed.

She is examining a table just before the aisles which is covered with a display of staff favorites when a voice behind her says, “I love that one.”

Turning with the copy of My Favorite Thing Is Monsters still in hand, she encounters the man who until now she’s only seen at a distance, occasionally ducking in and out of the store while it was under construction. He’s tall and blond, with broad shoulders beneath his heather gray T-shirt, plain except for a small, oddly-rendered sketch of a pale turquoise bird in side profile and showing one large eye. She tries not to let on how distracted she is by the hint of a darkly-inked tattoo peeking out from the bottom of his sleeve; his blue eyes are watching her clearly from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses.

“I’m sorry?” she asks politely, trying not to let on that she’s slightly lost the thread of how things started.

“That’s a great book. I love it,” he offers, shrugging awkward shoulders although his smile is still lovely and genuine. “Although it’s not too surprising seeing as I’m most of the staff here, so the table’s pretty much stacked with books I love.”

“You must be the new owner then,” Peggy says, putting out a hand. “Congratulations. I’m Peggy Carter. I run Top Shelf Tea and Coffee up the street.”

“Steve Rogers, good to meet you." He shakes with her, then gestures to the book she’s still holding in her other hand. “Are you browsing for yourself, or just over here to check out the new neighbors?”

“I think I can do both quite handily,” she says, smiling back at him. “Though I don’t typically read graphic novels. Perhaps you can recommend something else?”

Nothing precisely shifts about his posture, but she suddenly has the sense that he’s more settled on his heels, focused even more intently on her. “What do you typically read?”

“Very little, of late,” she admits, making a bit of a face. “I used to read quite a bit of mystery - Gothic, classics, noir, Agatha Christie, Tana French, and my favorites were those where you get suspense and a good story but a good sentence too. But with everything on my plate, I’m lucky if I can get through a half chapter before I go to sleep.”

“Sure.” He crosses his arms, which does nice things for his muscles, as well as showing off an extra sneaking bit of his tattoo. Watching him think, she has the sudden feeling that she’s in very good hands. And, when he rings up a collection of P.D. James short stories and one originally published in Swedish called An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good (“With your schedule, it might be easier to enjoy a little section over a night or two rather than trying to force yourself to make it through a hefty novel”) along with a copy of Dorothy B. Hughes’s In a Lonely Place that he’d tracked down in the used book section (“It’s not long, and it’s dark, smart, psychological noir”) it seems she’s right.

Peggy is not behind the counter when Steve shows up at her shop the next day, but she comes out from the back when she recognizes his voice ordering the house blend coffee.

“I had expected you to have more of an opinion than that,” she teases as she walks through from the kitchen with a tray of fresh scones to load into the display case and finds him waiting to pick up his drink. He’s come in past the commuter crush and before the lunch rush, but even with Peggy’s staff working quickly and efficiently as usual there’s enough of a wait to guarantee a moment to chat. “I certainly anticipated your drink of choice would be something with minimal fuss, but I would have guessed at something with a bit more imagination at least.”

He laughs. “I’m just trying to get the lay of the land here, and the house blend is how I know what kind of joint you’re running here.” Rose places a cup labeled “Steve!” on the counter, smiling at him before she twirls away again. He picks it up, takes in the steam rising through the lid, smiling as he does. “It smells good. But when you name your place ‘Top Shelf,’ you have some pretty high expectations to meet,” he warns, smile still flickering around his mouth.

“Don’t worry.” She leans over the counter toward him. “The expectations are exactly where I want them.”

His eyes widen after the first sip and he takes a second before he’s even swallowed. “You were right. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I know,” she says plainly. “And my true expertise is with the tea. Try the Irish blend next time you’re here, or a cinnamon rooibos latte if you’re feeling adventurous.”

His eyes smile over the top of the cup and he takes another sip. “I guess I’ll have to keep coming back with so much to try.”

“I suppose you will,” she says, trying to sound friendly but casual when she adds, “And I’ve finished two of the stories in the P.D. James, so I might have to come back for more recommendations soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he tells her. This time, even with the clamor of people waiting behind him or skirting huffily around to pick up drinks, he isn’t smiling, he’s grinning.

By the time Steve drops in one afternoon eight months later, he is a very familiar sight. Daniel wraps one of the enormous seasonal apple-cinnamon muffins as soon as he walks through the door then waits for him to order a drink - the staff knows that while Steve certainly has favorites on the drinks menu, he changes between them often enough to keep things interesting. (He always orders a muffin, though: apple-cinnamon in autumn, blueberry the rest of the year.)

Usually they don’t have time for lengthy chats during the day considering the crowds at Top Shelf and the customers and part-timers waiting for Steve to return over at Shield Street, but today when Peggy comes out to say a brief hello, she finds Steve sitting at one of the tables. The small tilt of his head as their eyes meet is enough for her to slide the proposal she’s reading about switching dairy providers into her pocket and walk over to sit with him. The little two-seater he’s picked is away from the large front windows, and she seats herself in the comfortable leather armchair across from him with a feeling of relative privacy.

“Is something wrong?” she asks. Steve’s doing well enough as far as she knows: Shield Street seems often to buzz with foot traffic and they’ve been promoting their online store, there is a solid slate of events and programs including the coffee and cookies socials for which he sources the refreshments from Top Shelf, there was a lovely recent write-up in the local paper, and he’s even been able to hire a full time employee other than himself. Still, she knows entirely too well that the life of a small business owner can be somewhat exacting and stressful. Small mistakes in ordering stock or taking on a bit too much can be enormously costly, and even when you’ve done everything correctly, factors outside your control can conspire against you without much of anything to serve as protection. Steve’s tense expression mirrors the way she sometimes felt in the first few years after she’d opened - and still does today, if she’s being honest.

He sips his tea slowly, and she can tell it’s not because he’s finally remembering her advice about allowing the flavors to settle.

“There was a guy in at the store this afternoon,” he says finally. “Stuck around a long time, looked in every corner, and then didn’t buy anything. But I overheard him on the phone when I was coming over here.” He looks up at her, eyes somewhere between hard and stricken. “Peggy, I think he’s from Hydra.”

The common wisdom is that the largest threat to small businesses are superstores and online giants, the franchises of the world which can spring up on every corner or be available at a moment’s notice, backed by large pools of money that leave them free to take risks and undercut other vendors, offering brand recognition to customers across large areas without being tied by communal or ethical bonds to any of the places they land.

Hydra, a business conglomerate few had actually heard of, took the pushback against big chains and used that for its own ends. Rather than focusing on any single industry, or even establishing Hydra brand all-in-one stores, their model was to sweep in to buy various local businesses and keep their original names, or to establish seemingly innocuous storefronts without any stated connection to Hydra. But while people thought they were shopping locally and supporting their own neighbors, helping to maintain healthy competition and a diversity of business, mass-produced goods would slowly replace the higher quality ones, workplace regulations would be flouted while employees were scared into silence by the power of the corporate owners, and money would flow out of communities and into Hydra’s distant and ever-deepening pockets. Steve and Peggy kept their finger on the pulse of the small business world, and they had read stories online, often later hastily retracted or swiftly vanished, stories of small towns and cities across the country where, within a few years, whole streets full of businesses that seemed to be independently-run and community-owned were actually just cheery facades under one corporate umbrella.

And now Hydra was here. Peggy thought about the shops between her business and Steve’s: the florist, the hardware store, the brewpub, the rare family-owned pharmacy, the ice cream parlor which is part of a beloved local chain, the independent movie theater, the places on other streets in their town which sold toys and art supplies and comics and shoes.

Behind her, the door opens. A squat, balding man enters, grandfatherly dapper with a suit, a bow tie, round glasses, all undercut by the coldness in his gaze. He looks around at what Peggy has built - the scattered tables and cozily diverse seating options from armchairs to stools to window seats, the carefully hung plants, the racks of magazines and stacks of available books which Steve has selected for her, the displays of art by students from the nearby universities, her talented staff, and of course her carefully curated menu - and writes something brief in a small notebook. He steps up to the counter to order.

“That’s him,” she says to Steve, barely a question. “That’s who you saw.” He nods, looking down into his mug, fingers tight around the solid pottery. Peggy remembers picking out these cups, sorting through dozens of listings until she found the exact ones she wanted: an entire range of colors, big enough for a good serving size and for wrapping hands around, but not awkward to sip at.

“If it is them,” she says, knuckles clenching beneath the table, “we won’t let them win.”

Steve looks up at her; the smile on his face is wan, not up to the usual brightness she looks forward to, but it’s the first one she’s seen at all from him today. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The man approaches Steve first, introducing himself as Arnim Zola. He’s done his homework, knows about the finances of the shop and about Steve’s personal finances as well, from the loans he’s taken out to the fact that his mother had barely anything to leave him when she died.

“You’re a smart businessman, Mr. Rogers, I have seen that quite well. Though you might have good growth now, who knows what tomorrow might bring? Selling now and taking the money which comes with the offer, that is the smart business decision.”

And Steve, for whom courtesy is not second nature but first, has trouble turning him down with a “no thank you,” rather than a “piss off.”

Zola seems to hear it anyway, but he overcomes the spasm of anger with a smile. “I will be happy to speak to you later, if anything happens to change your mind. As I said, there is quite a lot of unreliability in business ownership.”

A pipe bursts in the back of the store that night, even though they’d all been replaced as part of the renovation. A good chunk of inventory gets soaked. Peggy walks past the next morning to find Steve putting the less damaged material out on a rack to sell at a steep discount. He tells her what happened with barely concealed fury in his throat. They hadn’t heard about Hydra deliberately driving owners to sell, but neither of them is exactly surprised.

Peggy goes to work for the next few days with her head full of rage and incipient plans. When Zola comes to request a meeting and make his case later in the week, she turns him down so sweetly that it takes a minute for him to understand that it had even happened.

She’s never had Steve over to her little flat above Stewart’s Sandwich Spot, but after a few days of working across the empty tables of Top Shelf or cramming into Steve’s office after they’ve locked up for the night, she invites him to join her.

“I had concerns about pests and odors when I first came,” she says as they climb the narrow back stairs single-file, “but I’ll have lived here five years this January and haven’t had a problem with either. In fact, waking up to the scent of their fresh bread every day is quite the bonus.”

“Plus you can pick up dinner on your way in.” Steve’s voice behind her is teasing, though accurate, as he’s currently holding the bag with the food they’d bought three minutes ago: a Tipsy Texan for her and his Peter Paul Ruben along with several orders of the fries which Peggy promises are outstanding.

She’s right. The agreed-upon brief break for sandwiches spirals into experimentation as to which of the various dipping options is the best for the french fries, then into conversation about places they’ve traveled and the best foods they ate there. Peggy backpacked a bit after university, and still tries to take a bit of vacation when she can. Steve, she finds out for the first time, was in the army and was deployed several times.

“The guys I went over with, we all came home,” he says quietly. They’ve gotten into the wine at this point. “We all got these together.” He stretches down the collar of his shirt enough for her to see some very nice muscles as well as a tattoo: concentric red and white circles with a blue center marked by a star. The outermost circle reads “107th Regiment.”

“What is the one on your arm?” she asks before she can stop herself. He chuckles and lifts his sleeve where she can now see the words clearly inked in black around his bicep: “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,” ended by an ellipses trailing from black to gray to white.

“My mom used to read Tolkien out loud at bedtime,” he explains. “And I still think about the way that one sentence opened up a whole world, a whole life, for me.”

She pours a touch more into her glass, shifting her feet up onto the sofa beside herself. “You’ve always loved reading, then?”

“Yeah. Back when I was growing up, if I wasn’t really sick, I was just getting through being sick or getting started being sick again. All that time in bed, I needed a lot to read; I was always going through the big stack of books next to my bed, or listening to some audiobook on my old Discman. When I was doing okay, I used to go talk to the librarians, and I was around so much that eventually I started volunteering there.”

He chews through one of the last remaining fries, cold now. “When I got discharged, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with myself. All I could think of was how good books made me feel, how important they were for me, how I could help put them in the hands of others. And then one day I was walking by, saw the For Sale sign on the space, noticed that the street sign said Shield, and just knew.” He shrugs. “There are small business loans aimed at vets, and my friend Bucky went into construction after we came back, helped me put the place together the way I wanted it.”

“And all that starting with one little hobbit,” she says with a smile. She pushes her hair back, feeling flushed and a bit young.

He leans against the back of the couch. “How about you? What made you decide to open Top Shelf?”

“Spite,” she answers promptly, making him laugh. “It’s entirely true. I wish I could tell you some sweet story about my grandmother bringing me to a tea shop every Saturday back when I was a girl, but I wouldn’t lie to you. The fact of it is that my mother accepted my coming to university in the States, but as I was finishing my degree, she became quite adamant about my doing graduate work to enter into law or finance. I had little interest in either, and didn’t want simply to put in the investment because she was forcing me.

“At the same time, I had a part-time job at a coffee shop where the owner was the worst sort of boss: constantly critical without any actual suggestions for improvement or true understanding of daily operations, unwilling to make necessary changes or updates, over- and under-scheduling the staff at a whim. Finally I told him that in one day I could have the place running better than he ever could, at which point he started fuming that doing his job was harder than I could imagine, and fired me. By that evening, when my mother called once more to have a ‘little chat about my future,’ I told her that I had started a business plan and would be opening a tea and coffee shop as soon as possible.”

“How did she take it?” His voice is softer. Somehow they’ve moved closer together on the sofa. With his arm draped along the back, his fingertips graze the gauzy sleeve of her blouse.

“She shouted at me, hung up, and refused to speak to me for several days, but that just gave me time to become more confident and knowledgeable by the time she called next.”

“And you succeeded.”

“I did.” She stops herself from leaning into him the way that she wants to. She might get a bright rush hearing his voice at the counter during the day, might drop by his shop for a new book even while she already has several still waiting at home, might relish this extra time to discover the thoughtful, generous, opinionated details of him of which she’s seen captivating hints over the past months, but they have a purpose here. She clears her throat, steadies herself. “I succeeded, and I mean to keep what I’ve made.”

It’s after midnight when Steve finally goes home. She tries to tell herself that it’s a shame that they didn’t really have a chance to work on their strategy, but when it means that they come back to her house the next night, and go to his the night after, she can’t be truly upset.

As a business owner and a town resident of over half a decade, Peggy has been to a council meeting or two in her time. But she prepares for tonight with special attention, leaving the shop early enough to take a longer than usual shower. She chooses a recently purchased top - navy with silver and pale blue detailing, a flattering silhouette, and a modest V-neck - and adds makeup with more than her usual care. She finishes with her usual scarlet lip and, taking in the finished product, nods firmly, picks up her bag, and goes to meet Steve.

He arrives at nearly the same time, and they take seats together in the center of the town hall meeting room.

“A good turnout,” Peggy says quietly, glancing around. “And look who’s here as well.”

Zola sits in the back of the room, quietly taking things in. She suspects that keeping abreast of town news is a part of his job. Hopefully he will be earning his salary tonight.

Most of the agenda is spent on the typical dull dealings: a proposal to change the language on parking citations is taken up and passed, followed by a bit of a tussle over the budget, then it’s on to a rousing discussion about recent changes to state alcohol legislation and the impact on local restaurants. At least the recognition ceremony for two teenagers who rescued a man drowning in the nearby lake is touching and breaks the monotony.

“And finally,” Chester Phillips, the head of the council, grumbles. He’s clearly very much past ready to adjourn. “We have an item put forward by Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers. An item very recently put forward,” he adds, shooting a glance at Peggy. The official deadline for getting onto the agenda is 24 hours in advance, but Peggy knows that the secretary, Miriam Fry, usually prints and posts things a bit early. While their proposal came in just under the deadline, the agenda had already been publicized; Peggy wanted as much of an element of surprise as she could muster to avoid sabotage.

“Good evening.” Peggy starts them off. “As many of you know, I own Top Shelf Tea and Coffee on Shield Street. I’ve been so pleased by the welcome the town has given to myself and my shop over the past several years, and I wanted to come forward tonight to raise awareness of something which has been recently affecting our local business community.”

She knows her points well after running through them with Steve for the last few nights. Without referencing notes, she smoothly and carefully explains Hydra’s background and the way their business model has caused trouble for other communities. The articles she references, entered conscientiously into the record, might be smaller pieces, but they are from reputable and reliable news outlets; Bruce Banner, the reference librarian, had helped them put together the resources with that in mind.

“Mr. Rogers and myself have received offers to purchase our businesses. We would also request that that council hear from others who have also been under recent pressure to sell.” Peggy gestures over her shoulder, where a good-sized part of the assembled crowd is standing, ready to come forward.

“Before we get to that, is there an actual proposal attached to all of this?” Alexander Pierce asks. He’s a popular, long-serving council member, distinguished and seemingly considerate, but there’s a strange hint of ice in his voice, in the blue-gray of his eyes, that makes Peggy suspect who exactly put the town on Hydra’s radar and why they seemed so certain that they would be able to work with impunity.

“Our proposal is a council resolution simply acknowledging the remarks made here today,” Steve says, the words not loud but quite firm. “It isn’t the council’s responsibility or within their authority to prevent private sales between willing parties, but we want to make certain that everyone in this town knows the coercive measures Hydra has taken in the past and will almost certainly take in the future in order to gain and maintain control of local businesses.”

He takes a breath, pushing up his glasses reflexively before he speaks. “I opened my store more recently than Ms. Carter did hers, but I’ve also felt lucky to have been able to support and be supported by this community over the past months. Moving here and opening my business has given me something I never thought I would find.” His gaze moves, for just a moment, from the council in front of them, to Peggy, who is watching from beside him. Their eyes meet so quickly she nearly wonders whether it even happened before he turns back to conclude, “I have no intention of giving up my business. And we want everyone to know that we are willing to continue fighting for however long we have to.”

“Now I—” Pierce started, but Nick Fury, a council member who rarely speaks and who Peggy knows always gets his coffee first thing in the morning to avoid running into anyone trying to discuss council issues, leans forward so his microphone picks up his words clearly.

“I’d actually like to hear from our fellow citizens, Alex,” he says, and nods for the first speaker to go ahead.

The comments last for a long while. Some people speak only briefly about being approached by Zola or other Hydra representatives, bombarded with testimonials from business owners from other towns who sold to Hydra in the past. Others have lengthy (and well documented, Peggy made sure of that) stories of escalating problems and harassment: health or building code inspectors being called and finding minor or suddenly appearing violations, delayed shipments from previously reliable vendors, spontaneous problems with heating or cooling systems.

Someone from the local paper always covers council meetings, and she’s sitting in the front row scribbling away for what will undoubtedly be a far different article than usual. But news travels fast, and as the hours march onward, more and more of their fellow townspeople squeeze into the meeting room to hear things for themselves.

Steve and Peggy expected it, but as the last of the business owners moves aside, they trade a glance seeing Arnim Zola step up to the podium.

“In my capacity as a representative of Hydra, I would like to officially demand that minutes and records of this meeting be restricted pending a defamation lawsuit which the corporation will be bringing,” he says, eyes flashing behind his glasses. The words are so practiced that Peggy feels her suspicions about the fight against Hydra in other places nearly confirmed.

“Those are a matter of public record,” Mrs. Fry says sternly. Peggy smiles. They don’t always see eye to eye, but she knew that Miriam could be relied upon to protect the integrity of the process.

Fury adds laconically, “And it will be a little difficult to put the genie back in the bottle.” He looks over everyone’s heads to the back of the room, and raises his voice to ask, “Live stream still running smoothly, Stark?”

Tony Stark, the teenaged son of the municipal head of IT, barely looks up from his phone as he gives a thumbs up. “Directly on the town website, YouTube, and Twitter, plus a few backup sites I’ve set up just in case. And I’ve been live-tweeting the whole time. First council meeting that’s ever been even close to interesting enough for me to even want to do that.” He leans back in his chair, feet up on the table and fingers typing rapidly.

The calculation is clear across Zola’s face. Leaning into the aisle so he can hear her, Peggy says quietly, “If you still manage to convince someone to sell, there’s little we can do to stop you. But you can see the town turning against the idea of you, and any of the usual tricks you try to pull will only make it worse. I doubt you’d ever be able to make a success of things here. I would cut your losses now, Mr. Zola. Everyone knows who and what you are. You can’t hide in the shadows anymore.”

Zola leaves before the resolution passes. Although they keep an eye out for him over the next weeks, they don’t see a sign of him again.

They have the other business owners over for a drink down in the event space at Steve’s shop. It was already late when the meeting finally adjourned, and it is even later once the last person - Thor, who owns the Norseman brewpub and is still laughing heartily at a story told by Luis from the electronics repair store - closes the door behind him.

“I wanted to tell Sam to take the morning off,” Steve says as they tidy things up, “but I have the feeling we’ll be even busier than usual tomorrow.”

Peggy smiles, collecting the empty bottles in a paper bag for recycling. “I think he’ll forgive you when he sees it reflected in his paycheck.”

Steve glances over the used book shelves, making sure they’re all orderly, switching a few around to keep things alphabetized. “If this keeps up, maybe I can have Nat and Wanda full time soon.” With one last glance at the shelf, he goes over and drops tiredly into one of the chairs that they have yet to fold and put away. There are plenty of other places to sit, but Peggy comes and turns a chair so she’s facing him. Their knees are nearly touching.

“I hadn’t realized quite how tense I was until the weight was removed tonight,” she says softly, just for him. “And while I know that we should stay alert and that complacency works against us, it will be such a delight to go into the shop tomorrow without feeling as if ruin was coming up on the horizon.”

“You deserve that,” Steve says, and somewhere over their work together, they’ve become comfortable enough that he already has her hand in his and she didn’t even notice until just now. “And even if they regroup fast, we’ll have a day or two to catch our breath before we start putting out resources for other communities dealing with Hydra.”

That familiar determination is back in his voice, and she realizes that so much of him is familiar now. She knows that his glasses are the last hint of the poor health which plagued him growing up, has seen pictures of his mother and recognizes where he inherited his fair hair and strong features. She has seen his tattoos and knows what he wanted to memorialize on his skin.

Looking him over, she sees that sometime after the meeting he has changed into a T-shirt that she recognizes.

“That was what you were wearing the day we met,” she says. “What made you choose it for your opening?”

He glances down. “It’s the Pigeon, from the Mo Willems series. Popular picture books, ” he explains. “I know that I can be a little intimidating for the kids, and I wanted something that would be familiar and friendly, something we could talk about together so they could get to know me and wouldn’t be as nervous.”

It’s such a simple answer, so unsurprising and considerate and right, so Steve. She frees her fingers from his so she can hold his face in her hands.

“You’re a very dear man,” she informs him, and presses her mouth to his.

Quite a while later, as Steve finally turns the lights off in his shop, finally put to rights, he asks, “Are you free again tomorrow night? I’d like to take you out somewhere that doesn’t serve sandwiches.”

“I won’t mention it at Stewart’s.” She tucks herself under his arm as they step into the cool of the street and he turns to lock up.

He laughs. “They don’t have to worry much. I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“I’m certain we will, though perhaps Thai for tomorrow,” she says thoughtfully as they walk. “But come to the shop sometime earlier, will you?” A grin is growing on her face. “I have some ideas I want to discuss about unseating Mr. Pierce at the next election that I’m not sure are proper date conversation.”

“My definition of date conversation is whatever you want to talk about,” he says, his voice never anything but honest. “But sure, I’ll come by tomorrow. I can’t get through the day without your latest matcha concoction, and I want to hear what you have planned for Pierce.” His grin is growing to match hers. “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t bet against us.”

#steggyweek20 #Steggy #Steggy fic #Peggy Carter #Steve Rogers #alternate universe fun ft. small businesses

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reyesstrand · 4 years

Note

Hi!! I’m absolutely obsessed with your writings! You are absolutely amazing. If you’re still taking prompts would love to see 11. “How could you ask me that?” and 36. “You’ve shown me what love can feel like.” Thank you so much. 💕💕

thank you so much! i’m sorry for the wait on this one but i hope you enjoy!!

feel free to send me a number from this list if you’d like. also available on ao3!

“It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve gotten you alone.”

There’s no bite to Michelle’s words as she speaks, but Carlos immediately picks up on the insinuation that she’s lying down: that Carlos is a little too caught up in the whirlwind that is TK Strand for him to make time for their weekly tradition of drinks and street tacos at their favourite place downtown. He’s missed the last three or four chances they had to hang out, due to picking up shifts or getting wrapped up in his — what, friend? boyfriend? guy-that-he’s-exclusively-seeing-but-has-no-label-for is too wordy, but it’s really the only thing that makes sense when trying to describe what he has with TK.

“Sorry,” Carlos says, because he is. Michelle’s been there for him through thick and thin ever since he was barely out of high school and he started hanging out with her as much as he hung out with Iris. But she waves him off immediately.

“No need to apologize, I know that boy of yours, you should feel no shame for getting as much time in with him as you can,” Michelle offers him a wink, but when he just sort of sighs and sinks down into his chair, she cocks her head to the side. “Is everything okay with you two?”

Carlos could offer her the same response he’s been giving his sister, who’s wanted to meet his so-called mystery guy for almost a month, now. She’d noticed his change of tone whenever he spoke about his and TK’s relationships, and Carlos had quickly chalked it up to him being tired after a long day. Which was true — but he could just sense that something was up with TK, and it wasn’t something he was ready to get into with his sister. But Michelle’s different; she might actually know if something’s up with the 126 that could be attributed to TK’s slow but steady act of pulling away from him.

“Actually, uh, he’s been kind of distant, lately,” Carlos says, trying to keep it casual, but Michelle’s eyebrows furrow almost immediately.

“For how long?” Michelle asks, bringing her beer to her lips and taking a sip.

Carlos sighs. “Two weeks. I thought maybe something was going on at work?”

Michelle presses her lips together, but the corners of her mouth still turn down in a frown as she shakes her head. “I mean, he seems normal at the station. The whole team does.”

They’re quiet for a few moments, as Michelle taps her fingers against the neck of her bottle.

“How is he being distant?” Michelle finally asks, and Carlos shrugs, squinting as he looks off into the distance, the setting sun just low enough to be in his line of vision.

“We still go on dates and stuff, but he doesn’t really talk to me like he did before. He always seems like he’s lying when I ask him if he’s okay,” Carlos shrugs, taking a breath before speaking the words out loud, finally voicing the fear that’s been brewing in his chest. “I think he might want to break up with me.”

“Are you serious?” Michelle looks at him with wide eyes, and Carlos slowly nods.

“I mean, what else could it be? We gave us a shot for real two months ago, maybe he doesn’t like how it’s turning out,” Carlos rubs at the back of his neck.

“I’ll talk to him,” Michelle says, eyes suddenly a little darker as her protective side starts coming out. Carlos quickly reaches across the table and takes her hands in his.

“God, no way, Michelle, I don’t want you to scare him off,” Carlos insists, rubbing a thumb along the inside of her wrist to calm her, a little. “I think I should just ask him tomorrow. Be straight up about everything.”

He makes the decision without really thinking it through. Maybe he’s the one that’s freaking out too much — TK could just be exhausted, or dealing with his dad’s chemo appointments on top of having a strenuous job. But he knows what his ma would say, that he probably should’ve already talked with TK about this when he first started worrying. And the way it seems to settle Michelle’s willingness to go after TK herself is also a bonus.

“How’s your mom?” he asks, to shove the focus off of his issues for a little while. And it seems to work, Michelle only giving him one last wary glance before she talks about their plan to bring Iris a care package, Carlos quietly stewing in his own mind over what to do next.

* * *

Carlos knows that work isn’t the best place to do this. But he also knows just how distracted he’s been all day just thinking about all the possibilities of what TK’s struggling with, and if he doesn’t get his emotions off his chest he’s going to crash and burn. Besides, they’ve been called to an accident at a state fair — a malfunctioning ferris wheel, that hadn’t moved for half an hour with people stuck on the ride — and once the 126 rescued the ten stranded people, they were all milling around, waiting for the all-clear, and Carlos has been watching TK just chat with Marjan for the last ten minutes and he figures this is as good a time as any.

Marjan catches his eye before TK sees him, and she says something quickly to him as TK begins to turn around. He offers Carlos a small smile as he approaches and Marjan clears her throat.

“I’m just...not going to be here right now. Nice to see you, Carlos,” Marjan says as she slips away from them, going over to where Mateo’s checking on equipment. Carlos nods at her as she leaves, and TK steps a little closer.

“How’s your night going?” TK asks, and Carlos frowns a little at the way that TK has yet to really look him in the eye.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Carlos says, instead of actually answering the other man. “But are you trying to break up with me?”

After ten seconds of silence, TK barks out a laugh. But when he takes in Carlos’ worried look and his tense jaw, his eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Sorry, I’m just being an idiot, I—”

“Wait, Carlos,” TK says, curling his fingers around Carlos’ wrist. “Talk to me?”

“It’s just...you’ve been distant, over the past couple of weeks. And at first I thought you were just tired, or maybe wrapped up in your head, which I totally get. But I want to be there for you no matter what, and I feel like you couldn’t wait for me to get out of your hair on our past few dates.” Carlos explains, watching as TK runs a hand down his face. “So, do you want to break up with me? I just can’t keep doing this, Ty.”

“How could you ask me that?” TK’s brought his voice down to a whisper, and Carlos shakes his head.

“I’m just wondering where we stand, Ty,” Carlos says. “I really like you, but I don’t want you to feel forced into this relationship if you—”

“I don’t,” TK quickly interjects, stepping even more into Carlos’ space. “I don't feel forced into anything. You have to believe me, okay? I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. And it still blows my mind that I get to have you in my life. Carlos— you’ve shown me what love can feel like. After all I’ve been through and all that I’ve put you through, you’ve stood by me, and I can’t even express to you how important you are to me.”

Carlos feels warmth spread through him, but he still doesn’t get the distance. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, TK presses on.

“I’ve been distant because I wanted,” TK stops for a second, inhaling shakily as he glances around, his eyes illuminated under the twinkling lights of the various rides and the signs advertising games and food. He meets Carlos’ gaze again and finally continues. “I wanted to ask you to be my boyfriend. Officially. But I didn’t know how to do it because you mean so much to me and I wanted to do this right, and I’ve been kind of stressing out about making things perfect and—”

“Hey, hey, TK,” Carlos says, bringing his hands up to frame TK’s face, practically feeling the other man’s mind going thousand miles a minute. “I think boyfriend has a nice ring to it.”

TK’s mouth quirks up in a lopsided smile. “Yeah?”

Carlos hums in agreement. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” TK says, “that’s the last thing I wanted to do.”

“Well, this is much better than all the other scenarios I was imagining,” Carlos jokes, but when he sees the flash of worry clouding up TK’s eyes, he presses a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s temple. “It’s okay, Ty. I swear.”

TK opens his mouth to speak, only for Judd’s voice to pipe up.

“Hey, loverboys! I won’t hesitate to use this hose on y’all,” Judd teases, as the others smirk all around them. “Come on, TK, we gotta go save some chickens from a barn fire.”

“Texas manages to surprise me every day,” TK mutters, meeting Carlos’ eyes one last time. “What are you doing later? I have to make things up to my boyfriend.”

TK waggles his eyebrows and Carlos snorts, leaning in quick to kiss him. “Come to my place when you’re done, I’m making you dinner.”

“You’re seriously the best,” TK says, as he turns to head toward the rig, where Marjan’s holding the door open for him.

“Be safe!” Carlos shouts out after him, and TK gives him one last smile and wave before he’s disappeared into the truck. As he retreats to his squad car, he shoots Michelle a quick text — things are all good, won’t need you threatening my boyfriend any time soon — before he heads off to the next call, unable to stop himself from smiling to himself over that label, one he hopes will stick for as long as humanly possible.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #my fic #phanfiction--addiction #one shot collection

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softbiker · 5 years

Text

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: a couple of bad words

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After being injured on a mission, Bucky winds up spending a day with the Avengers newest recruit. Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is my submission for @nacho-bucky ‘s writing challenge! My prompt was ‘the smell of freshly baked bread’. As a side note, I drank a whole pot of coffee yesterday and wrote this in one afternoon, so it’s also unedited :) As always, let me know what you think!

By the time the quinjet is an hour out from New York, Bucky Barnes is in an irredeemably foul mood.

Breaking up terror cells in Germany was supposed to be an easy mission - in and out, with the practiced ease of their well-oiled strike team. Really, they took the mission to spare German special forces the trouble...that, and a potential connection to an old Red Room contact of Natasha’s. With their “dream team” (Sam’s words, not Bucky’s) of Cap, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha, this should have been a light op, a scrimmage, Nerf ball.

Turns out superheroing is a contact sport, and they’ve got the bombs and broken ribs to prove it. A train station, a decoy, and an explosive device Natasha failed to disarm. With Sam coordinating civilian evacuation, there had only been a couple dozen injuries, but the suspect had slipped away, leaving them bruised and empty-handed.

Bucky had taken a brutal hit as he pulled Nat to safety, and now he is curled in his seat on the jet, metal hand holding his ribcage. He watches Steve scowl in the cockpit, jaw unflinchingly tight as he goes over the mission in his head. The captain doesn’t know how to let things go - never has, never will. Sam is actually piloting the quinjet, making unreturned small talk about a basketball game he went to last weekend. Natasha sits across from Bucky, a Stark tablet in her hands, dissecting bomb schematics and diagrams of diffusion techniques. There’s a little scab of dried blood on her bottom lip that she pokes at with her tongue, red brows lowered in concentration.

Bucky is exhausted - his hair smells like dust and smoke, his mouth is tangy and dry. There’s dried sweat underneath his uniform and he itches and his feet are hot in his boots and his ribs really fucking hurt. He lets his head fall back against the seat, and wishes they were home already.

**********

She pops her head up over the back of the couch when she hears them. What a sight they make: Bucky, propped up on Steve’s shoulder, Natasha dust-covered and buried in her tablet, Sam still sweaty and tugging at the harness on his suit. She still smiles, tentative but kind.

“Hi guys.” She lifts her fingers in a little wave. “Everyone okay?”

Bucky grunts in response; Natasha says nothing, making a beeline for her room and a shower. Sam, without doubt the most talkative person on the team, props himself on a stool and blows a harsh breath past his lips.

“We’re alright, yeah,” he sighed. “Barnes is a little beat up but he’ll get over it - he’s just dramatic.”

“Fuck you, too, Wilson.” Bucky flips Sam off over his shoulder as they hobble towards the elevators.

She winces, not yet used to their harsh banter.

“Hey man, be nice in front of the rookie, alright?” Sam hollers, mock-offended. “You’re creating a hostile work environment!”

Steve chuckles a little at that, jostling Bucky’s tender ribs, which makes him scowl at his best friend.

“Bucky is a hostile work environment,” Steve deadpans. They’ve reached the elevator, and shuffle inside, turning to face the common room. Bucky catches the rookie’s eyes as she giggles behind her hand.

“She’s fine,” he rolls his eyes, sparing a wink for the rookie. “When I make it hostile, bird brain, you’ll know.”

The elevator doors close, and he leans on Steve a little heavier, and jabs his elbow into Steve’s stomach.

“Thanks a lot for that, by the way,” he huffs.

“What?” Steve feigns innocence, and very poorly. “Didn’t know you were so worried about making a good impression on the rookie.”

“I’m - I’m not.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

They meet Dr. Banner in the medical wing where his lab adjoins the clinic; Sam had messaged him half an hour ago that they were inbound with a broken supersoldier, and Bruce had taken the liberty of setting up some of his supplies. Of all the doctors on staff, Bucky favored Dr. Banner - he was mild and soft-spoken enough to not trigger Bucky’s anxiety, in spite of the needles and IV drips and the snapping of latex gloves.

An X-ray and some bandages later, Bucky is removed from the active duty list for two weeks.

“Even with your advanced healing factor, I wanna be careful with this,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses to scratch the side of his nose. “I mean, your medical history is a little blurry, to say the least - and with all the shit HYDRA pulled, who knows what kind of stress your bones have been through before.” He taps away on his tablet, notifying FRIDAY and the admin system to remove Bucky from the roster. “In the meantime, take it easy - no missions, no training, no lifting weights. Probably avoid the motorcycle, too. I’ll check on them again in two weeks, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve is nodding - he never leaves Bucky by himself in medical - and crosses his arms. Neither of them have changed out of their uniforms yet, and in this sterile observation room, Bucky can finally smell the layers of grime and sweat clinging to them. His nose wrinkles when he gets a little whiff of himself, feeling bad for the nurse who bandaged his ribs.

“Oh I almost forgot -” Bruce turns around and reaches for something on his lab bench. A little blue bottle, full of round white pills. “Here. I developed these for the two of you - since you metabolize normal painkillers so quickly, I figured we might need something that would work in the event you sustain heavy injuries which…well, seemed likely. Take 2 every 4 hours, okay?”

His metal fingers grip the little bottle, rattling the tablets inside.

“Sure thing, doc.”

**********

She lifts the hem of her shirt, wiping at the sweat on her forehead, and leans against the wall of the gym. Her breath comes in short pants as her chest heaves, trying to cool down from her last bout with Agent Romanoff.

“Heads up.”

Her hands barely make it up in time to catch the flying water bottle headed for her face.

“Good catch,” Romanoff smirks a little. She’s sweating, too, but in a way that’s decidedly more sexy, little red curls hanging by her face. She looks fresh from a Pilates class, not a suicide workout - the rookie can feel the heat of her own face, the sweat drenching her clothes, and knows she’s not nearly as glowing as her trainer.

“You did really good today,” Romanoff continues. She keeps saying to call her “Natasha” but that is so hard to do with a woman so intimidating her alias is one of the world’s deadliest animals. “Really good. You’ve shown tons of improvement since we started. I’m going to recommend we start letting you shadow on missions in a couple more weeks.”

“Wow, really?” Her face lit up in spite of her exhaustion.

“Sure.” Natasha smiles. “I know it’s gotten a little boring, having you go through all of this.”

“Boring” was an understatement. Despite having a few years of experience under her belt - well, according to Tony Stark, vigilantism barely counts as “experience” - the rookie was assigned to a training program for her first couple of months on the team.

“Too much of a risk to put you in the field right away,” Stark had rattled off, handing her forms to sign and an official t-shirt (‘Look Mom! I’m an Avenger!’) and a tablet with a map of the compound. “Legal says we can avoid liability issues with a training program before we gradually phase you in, and I’m inclined to agree, so! Welcome to the team, but not officially!”

Her days consisted of early morning workouts, followed by combat and tactical training with Black Widow herself, and then...well, not much. There was research, of course, and she stayed on top of the intelligence briefings with the rest of the team. She went to meetings and official dinners and unofficial karaoke nights, but the rest of her time was mostly her own. Frankly, she was chomping at the bit to get back out there, in the action. Helping people.

“Well, hopefully it’ll pay off,” she sighs, giving Agent Romanoff an exhausted smile. “I wouldn’t want to be the weak link on the team.”

“You won’t be, believe me,” Natasha shakes her head. With a glance at her watch, she picks up her own water bottle and heads for the door. “Now I’ve gotta run, Skype meeting with Fury in 5. I’ll see you later, Rookie!”

**********

Bucky Barnes was feeling good.

Like, damn good.

Like, ‘Banner should label his controlled substances’ good.

Thing is, post-HYDRA and post-fugitive and post-cognitive reconstruction therapy, Bucky was more mentally okay than he had been in decades. He had the occasional rough day, and he definitely wasn’t perfect by any means, but with the shrinks that Stark had on retainer, he was getting better at dealing with it all. His physical health, however, was more of a moving target. In spite of receiving a bastardized supersoldier serum, he had been pumped full of so much other shit and gone through so much physical stress that his body had fundamentally shifted equilibrium. Multiple appointments with Dr. Cho and Shuri revealed that his chronic pain may never fully heal - if it did, it would be a very gradual process. Normal painkillers in reasonable doses did nothing for him, so Bucky settled in to his discomfort, carrying it the way he carried his knives and his scars - always.

24 hours into his medical leave, a few doses of pills down, and he couldn’t feel a single ounce of pain in his body - he shifted his awareness to each part of himself, like that guided meditation thing Wanda did sometimes, and he couldn’t find the pain, not even lurking behind the muscle and metal. He might be a little miffed at being off the active duty roster, but if his whole vacation is going to feel like this? Well, he doesn’t mind to let Steve handle the next threat to world peace.

With his schedule suddenly wide open, Bucky wonders what he’ll do with his day. He can’t remember the last time he truly had nothing to do - it’s an exciting prospect. So he lets himself ease through his morning, sleeping in, long hot shower, slipping on those plush Black Widow pajama pants Nat gave him as a gag gift. He knows everyone else will have had their breakfast and moved on to morning briefings and training drills by now, and he wanders down to the kitchen in the hopes that they’ve left him some coffee.

He sees her there, perched on a stool at the island and frowning at the tablet in her hand. There’s a little scrunch to her nose when she does that, he notices.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying and failing not to startle her.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” she smiles, watches him round the island to the coffee pot on the counter. “I didn’t see you there.”

“S’okay. I’m quiet.”

“You didn’t get tapped for the recovery mission? They’re going after your suspect from Berlin again, I think.”

“Oh, I’m off missions for two weeks.” He turns, giant ‘Don’t forget to be awesome’ mug gripped in his metal hand. “Banner’s orders. You didn’t hear about my smashed ribs?”

“Oh no, I guess not - are you okay?” Suddenly she’s concerned, and a little sheepish. “Sorry, I’m still a little out of the loop I guess.”

He feels guilty for that - she’s eager, bright, kind, a brilliant recruit. But it can take a while before you’re ‘in’ with the team. Not because they exclude her, but, well - a group made up of outsiders has a hard time adding new faces to the mix.

“Don’t apologize. Not your fault.” Bucky digs around in a jar on the counter for a few sugar packets, dumping them into his mug. “Anyways, I’m off the roster for now. Gotta figure out something to do with myself, I guess.”

Her smile is slow, ducked under pretty lashes - he really needs to stop noticing these things.

“Would you - I mean, you can hang out with me if you want?” She chews on her lip. “I’m done for today - my training with Natasha ended early and they didn’t need me in on the briefing so…”

The rookie was lonely - he could see that, anyone could. The fact is, between their own training and missions, it had been a little hard for the team to spend very much time with her. Bucky himself was often a bit of a loner in his free time, preferring to hole up in his room with books and movies rather than go out for drinks or another karaoke night. And yet, he found himself feeling eager at the thought of spending a relaxing day with the new recruit, getting to know her a little, hearing that funny little laugh through her nose.

“Sounds great, Rookie - what did ya have in mind?”

**********

“Okay, I just wanna go on the record and say I called it. I called it!” She’s grinning. “I knew you would love this.”

“Well, hey, in my defense, I’ve never hated beautiful women.”

She just rolls her eyes, kicks her feet out to rest on the coffee table in front of them. There’s a pile of DVD’s, all hers, laying across the surface, picked through and ranked in order of what was most important for Bucky to see. His film education was obviously lacking, considering he missed out on 70 years of movies, and didn’t even know what he liked anymore, so he was content to let her pick. After raiding the kitchen for an array of snacks, they settled in, opposite ends of the same couch with a bowl of popcorn and dark chocolate M&M’s between them.

Approximately 20 minutes into the movie, Steve appears, just passing through for an apple from the fridge. He stops in his tracks behind the couch, the crunch of the fruit in his mouth just above their heads.

“What is this?” he says around his mouthful. If his Ma could see him now, Bucky thinks.

“It’s called ‘How to Marry a Millionaire’ - came out in 1953,” she answers, smiling over her shoulder at him. “It’s one of my favorites honestly.”

“That’s - that’s Lauren Bacall!” Steve perks up, smacking Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, punk,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Betty Grable’s in it, too.”

“No shit!” Steve is grinning now, and he gives the rookie a conspiratorial look. “Y’know, Bucky used to have her pin-up poster. The one in the white bathing suit? Had it in his suitcase when he shipped out.”

“Oh, really?” She’s looking at him now, eyes sparkling at the rosy blush climbing up Bucky’s cheeks. “Betty Grable, huh?”

He clears his throat. “Well, everybody had that picture, I mean...it’s famous for a reason. All the boys had ‘em.”

“No, no, I get that,” she shrugs. “I just had you pegged as more the Rita Hayworth type, that’s all.”

It takes him back for a second, Steve too, that she knows these starlets, that they could’ve been having this same conversation 75 years ago. He can see that look in Steve’s eyes, sly and knowing as they slide towards him. Bucky works his mouth, tries to control his smile.

“Well, nothing wrong with her either,” he drawls, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “But did you see Grable’s legs?”

“I just thought you might’ve had a thing for redheads!” she laughs.

“They’re alright, I guess - now Dugan on the other hand…”

Neither of them notices Steve leave the room, tossing the apple in his hand and a huge dopey grin on his face.

**********

“Tell me again what the recipe says?”

“One cup of pumpkin puree.”

“Oh - shit, I thought you said one can.”

She smacks her forehead. “No wonder the batter is so goopy!” She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re trying to ruin my bread, Barnes.”

“I swear I’m not, doll - it was an accident.”

“Okay, new plan - we just make a double batch since the can has two cups in it.”

She shuffles around behind him, grabbing her flour and sugar and sour cream and other ingredients, hands flurrying to measure and fix the dough. It’s mid-afternoon now, a couple of movies down, and they (she) decided they needed to get in the fall spirit by baking a ridiculous amount of...breads. The banana bread is already in the oven, the pumpkin will be on its way as soon as she fixes his mistake, and a blueberry bread (made from muffin mix) is next on the list.

“But...what’s so special about making it into breads?” He had asked, causing her to look at him like an idiot.

“Ask me that again after you try them, Bucky.”

So he shut up and cracked eggs and sifted flour, stirring when her arm got tired. He was already regretting his words now that the smell of the banana bread was drifting towards him from the ovens, and he had to admit the pumpkin and cinnamon from her bowl was making his stomach growl. With all the bowls and measuring cups laying around, they were making enough sweet breads to feed an army, but hey - the Avengers are practically a small army of their own. And besides, Bucky intends on taking an entire loaf - baker’s privilege.

He decides that he likes watching her work, bouncing around the kitchen, some oldies playlist on the speakers, her tongue poking out between her lips. She’s got her sweater sleeves pushed up over her elbows - he had to help with that, after she got dough on them. This song is good, too, and he wants to ask her who wrote it-

“Are you gonna stand there staring at me, or are you gonna help?” she quips over her shoulder. He has no idea when he last smiled so much.

“You’re the boss, Rookie.”

**********

She’s got her feet in his lap now, and they haven’t said a word in an hour, and Bucky doesn’t even remember taking his last dose or two of his pain pills but he doesn’t feel a goddamn thing.

There’s a huge book in her lap, Stephen King - a favorite, he’s learned.

“I read at least one of his books every year in October,” she tells him. “You know, to get ready for spooky season.”

“Spooky season? What the hell is that?”

“You know, Halloween time!” she smacks his arm. “It’s Halloween first, Buck, you gotta get in the spirit.”

“I’m -” he sputters, face drawn in the most adorably confused look. “Halloween first?”

She hands him a book of his own and now here they are - he’s 20 pages into The Shining, but he’s stopped paying attention because she’s yawning behind her book and her eyes are fluttering shut, and it shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

He forces his eyes down to his own page, to Jack Torrance and haunted hotels, but they’re drawn back up when her book finally drops the rest of the way to her lap. Her head slumps sideways onto the back of the couch, mouth open just a little. He draws the blanket down around her feet and tucks it in a little tighter, but other than that, doesn’t move a muscle. He’s just fine right here, thank you.

He’s sinking in again, driving up the twisting mountain road to the Overlook, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Carefully - in the way highly trained superspies can be careful - he lifts his hips up and pulls his phone from his pocket, managing not to dislodge her feet or wake her up. She merely sighs in her sleep, nuzzling her face into the couch pillow. A text notification from team group message lights up the screen.

It’s Natasha. A photo, a photo which she somehow managed to take without him knowing, of him and the rookie, practically snuggling on the couch and reading together. Her legs are propped over his lap, and Bucky’s eyes are staring straight at her over the top of his book. Nat has captioned the photo: “looks like Barnes found a good nurse.”

He snorts a little. Natalia. Glances up at her, still sleeping, and tilts his phone upwards a few degrees and snaps a picture to send back.

“She sleeps on the job” he types, thumbs still slow on the phone keyboard. Instantly, his phone starts buzzing with more texts from the team, but he mutes it and lays his phone on the coffee table. He doesn’t feel like talking now. Well, talking to them.

“Hey...Rookie,” he whispers, reaching out and shaking her shoulder a little. She hums in her sleep, but makes no other move.

“Rookie, I gotta ask you something.” He wiggles her leg a little, shaking her feet in his lap, and whispers her name. He’s rewarded with her eyes fluttering open, her mouth drawn down in a pout at being woken up.

“Whatisit,” she sighs, still slumped into the cushions. He clears his throat. Here goes nothing.

“So, there’s a charity gala for the Stark Foundation coming up next weekend,” he starts bravely. “And - and the whole team is going anyway, so I know you’re gonna be there, but - well, maybe you would consider going...with me?” Courage runs out, and his brain backpedals. “I mean, just as a friend?”

She huffs. “I can’t believe you woke me up for that.”

“Oh.” He looks down, hair falling in his eyes. “So...you don’t want to go with me?”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Barnes,” she sighs. “Now shush. I was napping”

His face hurts from the stretch in his cheeks when he smiles. He’s gonna give Bruce those pain meds back.

#nachobuckychallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel fic

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imaginethathaikyuu · 5 years

Text

kinktober - day 9

yaku morisuke - toys

kinktober faq prompt list

*NSFW warning featuring the usage of sex toys specifically this one fem reader

“Y/N, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Surprises from Morisuke were never normal or necessary, and were rarely actually for you - so when those words leave his lips, you immediately start to feel uneasy.

One time, one of his surprises was that he scheduled a two week long beach vacation. For three years in advance. Another one of his surprises was a new pet goldfish. And just last week he’d come into your bedroom shouting the dreaded ‘S’ word, only for him to show you he had gotten a tattoo.

You had concluded that his surprises could be literally anything - it could be as simple as a goldfish he had yet to buy a tank for, or as permanent as the simple tattoo he now had in the crux of his elbow. And while it was interesting at the start of your relationship years ago, by now it was downright stressful.

So you squeezed your eyes shut and prayed it’d be a bouquet of roses and not a lip piercing.

When he walked into the kitchen, you peeked one eye open, inspecting his face carefully. It was clean of metal - thank goodness.

He dropped a medium sized box on the counter with a loud thud, the smile on his face a mischievous one.

“What did you do?” you asked carefully.

“Well, I was up late a few nights ago.”

“As usual.”

“Leave my sleeping patterns out of this,” he said. “Anyway - I saw an ad online for something that looked… interesting. And I knew we had to have it. So I bought it. And here it is!”

He gestured to the brown box, as if there was any indication of what’s inside it. And when he finally opened it and pulled out the surprise, you were genuinely caught off guard.

“No.”

“Come on, baby, let me use it on you -”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be fun! It said ‘orgasm every time,’ so it’s got to be good!”

You couldn’t believe he bought a sex toy. A bright pink one, no less.

“Mori - why?”

“I don’t remember exactly what I was thinking, but…”

There was a beat of silence as Morisuke tried to come up with an argument in his favor - but he came up empty.

He put his hands on your shoulders to say, “Look, baby, I’ve got to leave for work now but please, just think about it, okay?”

You sighed. “Okay.”

His hands moved to your waist, pulling your body against his. “And tonight when I get home… if you want, we can use these toys and I’ll take care of you, okay, baby?”

He was obviously attempting to seduce you - throwing in that extra sweet baby to punctuate his sentence, but you only heard one word.

“Toys? As in you bought more than one?!”

He scurried out the door, leaving you alone with the box of surprises.

And you didn’t touch them the entire day. In fact, you took them to the bedroom, put the box on Mori’s night stand, and honestly forgot about them as you went about your normal day.

Mori got home later than usual due to a meeting that ran much longer than he expected, so you were already in bed by the time you saw him again.

“You’re going to bed early,” he said, beginning to change out of his work clothes.

You sat up, “I didn’t have anything else to do. It’s boring when you get home late.”

“I know, baby, I’ll try to make it up to you and get home early tomorrow, okay?”

You nodded, and after he got his sweatpants on he jumped into bed with you.

“You ate dinner, right?”

“Yeah, there’s some for you in the kitchen.”

“You mean there’s nothing in here for me to eat?”

He pulled you close to him as you laughed, pointing out how cheesy he is.

“I thought it was a pretty good line,” he argued. “I’m not hungry for anything but you, baby.”

He rolled on top of you as his lips softly kissed your neck, in a trail leading toward your chest. Your low cut tank-top caught his eye the moment he walked into the room, and it made your collarbones and chest perfect targets for his lips.

“You smell good,” he noted, his nose brushing your collarbone.

“New shampoo.”

“Well you should keep using it,” he said, taking a deep breath of your sweet scent.

You hummed and allowed him to do as he pleased - his hand snuck up your shirt, and he pulled it off of you easily.

While he was focused on your breasts - and he was very focused on them - you were distracted. You could see the box from this morning in the corner of your eye, and as much as you hated to admit it, the curiosity about it was eating you alive.

You at least wanted to see which ones he bought. And who knows, maybe one of them would catch your eye.

“Mori.”

His wide eyes looked up at you, your nipple in his mouth, and he quickly let it go. “Hm?”

“The box is over there.”

“...the box?”

He turned around to look where you were gesturing.

“Oh! The box!”

He looked back at you, not catching your eye roll.

“Want to try them?”

“Just… let me see them.”

He hops up and gets the box, emptying its contents on the bed.

There were multiple, but honestly less than you expected. You knew Morisuke had a habit of going all out when online shopping, but it seems like he chose these items with care.

Really, he just bought multiple different vibrators. The bright pink rabbit vibe called Malibu Minx is what caught your eye at first - but not for good reason. It was big. And bright. And you did not want it inside you.

There was a small purple one in the shape of a bullet - literally called The Bullet Vibe. You weren’t really interested in that one, either.

A white one that looked like a microphone was familiar to you - you knew those are really common, but it didn’t look like it’d give you much pleasure.

There were a couple other boxes, as well as a bottle of lube, but you just felt overwhelmed. You looked up to Mori, who had a big grin on his face.

“Want me to pick?”

“Just get an… easy one, okay?”

He must have had this planned, because he didn’t hesitate to grab one.

The Womanizer.

The name alone was intimidating - but you decided to just trust him.

He sat between your legs and opened the box, pulling the contraption out, along with its instructions.

The toy was small, with a head that looked something like a suction cup.

He started to enthusiastically read the instructions: “Meet The Womanizer: the revolutionary air-powered clit stimulator! The Womanizer uses waves of air pressure to drive your clit wild. It comes with 2 silicone suction tips, so you can use the one that fits your clit the best.” He stopped reading to pick up the toy, glancing down at the silicone tip attached to it. “Does this one fit you?”

“How should I know?”

“...We’ll just say yes. ...The tip fits around your clit, while The Womanizer uses puffs of air for stimulation – making it feel similar to oral sex!”

“So why don’t we just… have oral sex?”

“Baby, sh, I’m reading. 100% waterproof… eight stimulation modes… clean before using - I’ll be right back.”

You groaned as he quickly ran to the bathroom to clean the toy. This seemed like way more trouble than it’s worth, and by now you weren’t even in the mood for this.

When he returned he quite literally hopped onto the bed, and then crawled on top of you.

“Are you ready to be womanized?”

“Morisuke.”

He giggled, “what? You don’t think that was funny?”

Even though you were laughing, you said, “no.”

“Well, I’m going to need verbal consent, baby. The instructions said so.”

“Just take off my underwear and use that thing so I can prove that this was a bad idea.”

“We’ll see,” he said with a grin, tugging your underwear off as you instructed him to.

He positioned the suction-cup like head at your clit, and with a kiss on your cheek asked, “Are you ready?”

You hurried him along, so he flicked the toy onto the first setting.

And your eyes widened.

“Holy shit.”

“What? Are you okay -”

“Turn it up higher.”

He hit the button a couple of times - unsure if anything was even happening - and you gripped his shoulder tight.

“Holy shit.”

“Does it feel good?”

You looked at him with what he thought was a worried expression, and nodded. “Yeah, yeah it does - ah, oh, fuck!”

It really did feel like oral sex - it felt exactly like Mori’s mouth, but with much more controled pressure.

“Mori,” you moaned, throwing your head back on the pillow, “fuck, Morisuke!”

“You’re moaning my name and I’m not even touching you.”

“Shut up, I’m about to cum, shut up.”

“Already?”

“Mori -”

“Go on and cum, baby, please hurry and cum for me,” he begged as he turned the toy up again, as high as it would go. “I need you to cum for me, baby girl.”

Your hips jerked as you searched for your orgasm, but you didn’t have to - the toy was basically pulling it out of you. You dug your nails into Mori’s shoulder as you came with a loud groan - it felt like your body was exploding into fireworks and that toy was the spark that set you aflame.

It was intense, but it was short. You pulled at Morisuke’s wrist to get him to turn it off when you were finished.

“Holy shit.”

You both managed to say it in unison as you attempted to catch your breath; Mori threw the toy onto the bed.

“That was hot,” he told you. “Really fucking hot.”

“It felt good. This was officially a good idea.”

He mentally patted himself on the back, and then caught your lips for a small kiss.

“Which one should we try next?”

tune in tomorrow for kinktober day 10: cock worship + deep throating

#kinktober 2019 #kinktober #yaku morisuke #yaku morisuke x reader #yaku x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot

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spideypoolbigbang · 4 years

Text

SPBB 2020 F.A.Q.

For those over 18, feel free to join the Spideypool server through this link. Please make sure to introduce yourself and state that you are a participant in the SPBB, as well as what type (writer, artist, beta) so that we may assign you the correct roles. This will grant you access to the SPBB rooms, where you can discuss your creations freely.

What is a Big Bang?

A Big Bang is a type of challenge wherein writers have a set amount of time to write a story that fulfills a minimum word length requirement. This story is then claimed by an artist, who will create art for the story.

Writers and artists work together as a team. They share a posting date and create a masterpost of both the story and art that is promoted by the challenge blog. This is a collaborative effort, NOT a commission. Though writers can suggest scenes they wish to have drawn, ultimately it is the artists who choose an aspect of the story they would like to draw. The artist should also respect what the writer suggests and take their notes into consideration. Communication is key to a fun and friendly experience.

Artists can claim up to two stories and can work with multiple writers. However, writers will be matched with only one artist. If an artist drops out after claims, we will arrange for a pinch-hitter (someone who will create art for the story at the last minute).

This is a fun event and a collaborative effort that will hopefully create more Spideypool content for the fandom and foster closer fandom friendships.

How do I sign up as a writer/artist?

Sign-up forms are linked on the blog during the sign-up period. If you have trouble finding the post or have issues/questions about sign-ups, let the mods know either through an ask or by emailing us at [email protected]

I missed sign-ups. Can I still register?

Unfortunately, only writers and artists signed up within the given timeframe can participate in the event. If you missed it, please follow the blog for updates, as this is a yearly event, and you will have an opportunity to join the event the following year.

Can I sign up as an Artist, a Writer, and a Beta Reader?

Firstly, we applaud anyone willing to undertake such a heavy workload! We do not recommend this route because editing can be just as time-consuming as writing and drawing. However, we do allow those registering as only a Writer or only an Artist to register as a Beta as well. You must fill out both the writer form and the beta form.

Will you email me reminders? What if I need more time?

We will send out email reminders several days before official deadlines. Reminders will be emailed for all check-ins, claims, and posting dates. Please consider adding the dates posted on the schedule into your calendar to keep track. We will grant extensions on a case-by-case basis. This is a low-stress event, and we understand that life gets hectic. If you feel like you need more time, let the mods know as soon as possible before the deadline.

I’ve never participated in an event before. Can I sign up?

Yes! Everyone is welcome to participate as long as you are above the age of 14. However, we do ask that you are fully aware of the responsibilities that come with signing up. So make sure you read the rules carefully!

Will we be assigned a prompt?

We do not assign prompts. You can write what you want, as long as the main pairing is Spideypool. You may work from a prompt, but you cannot reveal what prompt you’re writing from until after claims and it cannot be a prompt you have discussed writing publicly in the past. This is to keep the anonymity of your fic during the claims process.

When can I start writing?

You can start writing as soon as you sign up (or even use a previously unpublished WIP for this event).

I want to talk about my fic, but I’m afraid of revealing too much. What is considered information I can reveal?

The most important thing is that no identifiable details of your fic are made public before claims have been completed. This is to prevent the possibility of an artist seeing it and connecting that detail to you. We want to make sure the claims are absolutely anonymous so there is no bias while picking the stories. All stories will be chosen by artists based on summaries and visual components only.

If you need group feedback and are 18 or older, the Isn’t It Bromantic Spideypool Discord has a designated section for the SPBB event, where there will be rooms for participants of the event. Event announcements are also posted within the SPBB-specific rooms, as well as on the tumblr blog and via email. Event rules apply to the server, as it is a public forum. However, there is a writers-only room named #spbb-writers-cafe, where writers may discuss their works freely and receive feedback/brainstorm ideas. This means that writers may not share details of their story in any other chat.

If you are under 18, or otherwise cannot/are not interested in joining the server, discussing details with your beta or another individual (who is not participating in the event as an artist) in a private one-on-one chat is allowed.

Here are a few examples of what information is allowed and what is not:

“I’m almost done with writing my SPBB fic!” ← This is okay because it reveals no specific details about your story that an artist could recognize.

“I’m almost done with my Princess Bride AU fic for the SPBB!” ← This is not okay because it is a specific detail.

“I’m writing a story involving an alien invasion, but I kind of want to write this royal au as well. Which one should I pick?” ← This is not okay. Even if you didn’t mention the SPBB, you’re using one of these stories for the SPBB, and it might be recognized based on these descriptions.

“Is there anyone not drawing for the SPBB who could help me bounce plot details (In private chat) for this idea I have?” ← This is okay because you will be taking discussion to a one-on-one private chat.

Can I use any version of Spider-Man and Deadpool for my fic/art?

Yes. We understand that there are many versions of these characters, whether it be the actors or the comics. We ask that teams respect each other’s preferences. As long as appropriate warnings are given in the story and the art, teams are free to create what they please, and that includes underage Peter or Tom Holland!Spidey/Ryan Reynolds!Deadpool. Or Spider-Man Noir/Sumo!Wade Wilson, if that’s your thing. Go wild! Please note that we do not tolerate shaming or harassment of any kind. Leaving negative comments or complaints or otherwise being disrespectful to or about another participant’s creative choices because a piece depicts an iteration of Spider-Man or Deadpool that you do not approve of will result in disqualification from this round and a possible ban for the next round, as well. Be respectful and mature when communicating. If you have a problem with the iteration of the characters your partner is using, please contact the mods for mediation.

Can I write other pairings, such as Spider-Man/Mary Jane or Deadpool/Cable?

You can, but keep in mind that the fic has to be majority Spideypool and endgame Spider-Man/Deadpool. Poly ships such as Peter/Wade/Vanessa or Spider-Man/Deadpool/Daredevil are also permitted, as long as they are not the main focus of the story and are not the final pairing.

If your preference is to write polyships, we encourage you to seek out a polyship big bang event.

When am I assigned an artist/writer?

You will be assigned a partner during Art Claims. It will be an anonymous claiming process, wherein the artist chooses a story they would like to create art for. Instructions will be sent out by email before claims. You cannot pick your own partner.

Are we assigned beta-readers? What is a beta-reader? Do I have to use one?

A beta-reader is an editor who will go over your work. They mostly look for grammatical and structural errors. We require all participants to have at least one beta-reader look over their work. It is good etiquette to thank your beta-reader and also credit them for their help in the author’s note of your story once it is posted.

You will not be assigned a beta-reader. However, we will have a list of volunteer beta-readers prepared, and a list of their contact information and preferences will be sent out through email to all the writers. You don’t have to work with the SPBB betas if you already have a beta to work with, but if you cannot find a beta, you will be able to contact any beta on the list we send out.

Be aware that they will have refusal rights if your story goes against their stated preferences (i.e. If they state that they aren’t comfortable with Tom!Spidey fics and your fic is set during Infinity War, they can refuse to beta for you, etc.). It is your job to read up on what they offer and to contact them. Make sure to do so as soon as possible to ensure a beta is available to work with you. You will be asked to name your beta on the final check-in form, so it’s a good idea to secure one earlier rather than later. They will need time to beta your work, and you’ll need time to edit before posting day, which is why we want to make sure you have found a beta ahead of time.

Artists are also encouraged to work with an art beta, which can be found in the Discord SPBB artists chat. Basically, the best people who can give you feedback are your fellow artists participating in the SPBB.

What is a Check-In? How do I check in/submit rough drafts/summary/visual components for claims? What are visual components?

When we say “check-in”, it is usually done through a form sent out via email a week before the check-in is due. Check-ins let the mods know that you’re on track and show us any progress you have made.

Summaries sent in during the initial Writer Check-In will be used to give Artists an idea of what each story will be about prior to Art Claims. They are not an official summary. The Claims summary can be as detailed and spoilery as you want. More information and examples will be sent out with the first Writer Check-In email.

Visual components will be a simple list of what color palette/aesthetics/mood the story might provoke and/or maybe places/scenes that stand out in the story. Example: Fic has lots of cloudy days, grey colors, sometimes in forests. Hectic blood rituals. Moonlit nights. Wade fights a lot of ninjas. Peter likes to cosplay Steampunk. They are used to help artists better narrow down what they would like to draw.

I prefer to wait to read the finished draft before starting my art; is that okay?

It’s important to remember that the event is a collaborative process, and both writer and artist participants are expected to be working on their projects throughout the event in order to meet their required check-ins. This means that you should begin working on your artwork as soon as you have received and read the draft of your writer’s story after Claims. If you feel inspired to make art for parts of the story which haven’t yet been written—bearing in mind the draft you receive will be 50% complete with an outline of the remaining plot—you should still begin work on this: you can have detailed discussions with your writer in order to form your ideas, or base it off the parts of the story written so far and the outline. Your writer has their own deadlines to work towards, and should not feel pressured to write particular scenes for you to illustrate or finish the work ahead of final check-in if they feel unable to do so. Remember, “WIP” exists for a reason!

What is Preview Day?

Preview day is a few days before the actual Claims, and is the day summaries and visual components are sent out to artists Artists then have a few days to read over all the summaries and pick their top 3. In consideration of the Writers participating, Artists should not share their top choices on public forums.

If I sign up as an Artist, how can I be sure that I don’t accidentally claim a story that contains content I’m uncomfortable reading?

When the Writers submit their summaries and visual components for preview day, we ask them to include as spoilery a summary as possible so that there aren’t any surprises for their potential Artist later. We require tagging for all major AO3 warnings (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, and Underage), and encourage including any other potentially triggering or squicky tags as well. We will be asking Artists for any particular tags or story elements they want tagged during claims on the Artist sign-up form so that the Writers will know to include those tags in their previews during Claims. Our main goal in hosting this event is to make sure that everyone is having fun and enjoying what they do, and making sure that all participants are comfortable with their partners and the work they are creating together is a top priority.

What is Claim Day, and how do I claim the fic I want to draw for?

Claim Day is the official day when Artists will be sent a form to submit their top choices for stories to draw for. The email will be sent out at a specific time and date detailed in the Previews email. Because claims are assigned on a first come, first serve basis, it is important for artists to fill out the form as soon as possible to best assure that they receive one of their top choices. We have done our best to pick a time that will work for a wide variety of time zones, but as the Mods are based in the UK and the USA, we had to choose a release time that best fits our own schedules as well. Be aware that this might mean that you have to set an alarm for the middle of the night depending on where you live to make sure you have the best chance at getting your top pick.

I haven’t heard from my partner in a while; what do I do?

When you sign up for this challenge, you are agreeing to communicate with your partner through emails or other methods determined by you and your partner(s). Some teams might communicate only a few times, and some might communicate regularly. It is up to the team members to check in with each other. It is critical that you respond promptly to your partners and check your messages, even if it’s just to say you’re busy and will respond later.

Team members are required to make contact with each other within 48hrs of the Team Intro emails being sent out so that drafts can be exchanged and you can begin working together as soon as possible.

At all other times, if you send a message to your partner(s) and do not receive a response within 2-3 days, please contact a mod so that we can attempt to reach out separately. PLEASE DO NOT WAIT UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE TO LET US KNOW YOU HAVEN’T HEARD FROM YOUR TEAMMATE. If a participant does not respond to their partner(s) and/or a mod within 7 days, they will be added to a probation list. If this happens repeatedly, that participant will be disqualified from next year’s event. Ghosting your teammate will also lead to disqualification. We take communication between teammates seriously, and we hope our participants do as well.

What if I need to drop out?

There is no penalty for dropping out before claims. However, we ask that you let us know as soon as possible so we can remove you from the mailing list.

If you have gone through claims and need to drop, contact us immediately at [email protected], so we can arrange for a pinch-hitter for your teammate. You must also let your partner know you will be dropping out. Please note that dropping out after claims (for anything less than an emergency) will disqualify you for the next round of SPBB.

In the event that an artist drops out of the challenge before posting, we will arrange for a pinch-hitter for the writer. If a writer drops, artists can still post their art on their assigned posting date. Do not announce that you are dropping out through social media before telling your partner. We do not want your partner finding out that way. Instead, let the necessary people know through private chats or emails.

If there is an emergency, get in touch with us as soon as possible, and we will work with you the best we can.

What’s a pinch-hitter and how can I become one?

In the case of an artist dropping out of the event, leaving a writer without an artist, a pinch-hitter is asked to sweep in, often with only a few weeks notice, to create art for that writer’s story. Artists will also be asked during sign-ups if they’d like to register as a pinch hitter. If a pinch-hitter should be necessary, we will contact the artists who agreed to be pinch-hitters first. Should none of them be available to assist with the story in need, we will then post an open request for an artist.

Am I allowed to write timestamps, epilogues, or sequels for this fic? What about additional art?

You may write as many timestamps, epilogues, or sequels to your fic as you like, however these can only be posted after the event is complete and the final Masterlist has been posted by the mods.

Additional art can be posted after the Masterlist of Writers and Artists has been posted by the mods and the current round is over. If someone creates fanart for your story as a gift, you may include it in the notes of your story, but the original fanart created by your partner must remain in your masterpost and linked or embedded in the AO3 story as well.

Commissioning art for a story or asking a friend to create additional art for you because you dislike the art you received is not allowed. This is a collaborative event and to do so is disrespectful to your artist’s efforts. If you wish to commission art or have someone else create art for your story, you may not include that art within the story itself until one year after the posting date. The original art created by your partner must remain linked directly in the story.

What if I’m co-writing? Do we sign up together or separately? Do we get two Artists?

If you plan to co-write, both of you must register separately. There will be a place in the sign-up form for you to name a co-writer, but each co-writer must submit their own form with contact information, etc. during the sign-up period. You cannot add a co-writer after writer registration closes. Co-writing is essentially working together to create one story. As per the rules, each story, even if you’re co-writing, will only receive one Artist. This also does not mean you can demand more art from your artist. They only need to fulfill the minimum requirement and can choose to create more art if they have the time to do so.

Can I have multiple writing partners?

Yes. While we prefer that teams stick to one or two Writers and an Artist for schedule coordination and easier communication, we have no problem with a team of three or more Writers submitting a story together. As with co-writers, you will still only be paired with one Artist, and all writers in your group must sign up for the event separately.

To make communication and scheduling easier for everyone, we would also ask that your team choose a point person to respond to communication, coordinate schedules, and submit check-ins and posts when applicable. While we have no problem with large writing groups working together, trying to chase down three or more individuals for one story is a bit more challenging than we, as mods, are equipped to deal with. All participants will still receive relevant emails and reminders, but if we only have to look for one email instead of three or more, that will make our jobs significantly less challenging.

What is the Promo Period? Do I need anything special for it?

The Promo Period will be a month where (depending on how many teams we have), each team will be creating what is essentially a teaser for your team’s story and art. These posts may be used by the teams to promote their upcoming work on whichever social media platforms they wish, but as the original post will be submitted to the SPBB blog, you may reblog it from the SPBB blog, but do not repost on your own tumblr. We will post a promo for a new team every day during the Promo Period, in posting schedule order. This is why we ask that each Artist create a banner for the story they are creating art for. More details on what is needed from both artists and writers will be sent out a week or two before the actual promotional period.

How do I post, and when do I post? What if I’ve never posted on AO3/Tumblr/etc before?

We will be sending out emails to the teams with details walking you through the process of posting and will be on hand to offer support and answer any questions. Make sure to contact the Mod Team at least a few days prior to posting for a walkthrough. If you do not have an AO3 account currently and are in need of an invite code, please contact the mod team immediately (AO3 invites can take anywhere from a few hours to a few months to go through AO3’s approval system, so please make sure to let us know you will be needing one ASAP), and we will try to accommodate you.

One team will post per day during the posting period until we run out of teams. Both Writer and Artist must post your works within your given day. We will send out emails asking which days your team can and cannot post, and will be creating a posting schedule from that information. Make sure to discuss availability with your partner.

If I don’t want to be associated with my story after the first year, can I delete it from AO3?

Yes, but we encourage you to orphan the work, rather than deleting it if you choose to remove your affiliation with the story past the one-year date.

Why are we posting during February? Why not sooner or later?

Because, my beautiful chimichangas, that was when Deadpool the movie was released. And we all know a Spideypool Bang is what Deadpool would have wanted. To honor his glorious movie debut, we are going to release a bunch of Deadpool romancing Spidey (and vice versa) creations into the world.

[Credit to the kind mods of DCBB (DeanCas Big Bang) who gave us permission to use their FAQ as reference.]

[Banner edits courtesy of jdragon122, who kindly took the time to make these awesome high-quality banners.]

#faq #frequently asked questions #mod post #spideypool big bang 2020 #spbb2020 #spideypool

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ezzydean · 3 years

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Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

(click here to read them all on my tumblr and not the dash)

1. It takes approximately forty-two minutes before Stiles can convince himself to get up off the loveseat where he’s happily squished between Danny and Isaac. (love aka part 3 of the Stiles/Peter slow burn I wrote because of Catt)

2. “So. What the djinn did to Dean in, what was it, season one? Two? Whatever. Yeah totally legit. Negative fifty out of ten. Would not recommend.” (promise aka part 2 of the Stiles/Peter slow burn)

3. Hajime freezes when he hears the distinct sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat behind him. (the 5+1 mistletoe kisses prompt)

4. Stiles’s phone lights up and he gives it a wary look when he sees the text notification on his screen. He’s already been warned, by a few different people, that he would probably be getting a summons soon. (trust aka part 1 of the Stiles/Peter slow burn)

5. “There comes a day in every man’s li—”

The officiant is cut off by a loud cough and he takes a bracing breath, eyes fluttering. (the magic in you aka KageUshiIwa magical fluff)

6. The sky is turning gray, clouds rolling in to cover up the sunset, when Kuroo finally turns to Shouyou and sighs.

“Call him.”

Shouyou snickers at the defeated tone of Kuroo’s voice but he pulls out his phone. (we’re in a parking lot somewhere aka KuroHinaDai something or other I’m writing)

7. It still hurts sometimes. Not his wound. It’s scarred up rather nicely. As nice as a giant scar across half your face can be anyway. (a yet to be titled/plotted ATLA Zuko & Toph thing)

8. It starts early one morning — mere minutes after the door has unlocked and the sign has scrawled itself into a brilliantly colorful OPEN complete with sparkles and tiny fireworks — not long after everything has started to quiet down. (Well it had technically started years and years ago when they were all childish and stupid right little shits to each other but that’s a different story for a different day.) (only time will tell aka my Draco/George & Theo/Fred fic)

9. Neville snaps his head up, instantly wary of Hermione and that tone of voice, and then flushes when he realizes what he’s done. It’s Hermione after all. She’s entirely too clever for her own good but she’s not some sneaky devious creature he has to watch his back around. Though sometimes when she smiles the way she’s smiling now he remembers that, actually, yes she is a sneaky devious creature. She just likes him enough that, for the most part, he doesn’t have to worry about watching his back around her. (an untitled HP everyone comes back as professors fic)

10. Some things in life are certain. They’re just going to happen no matter what, no matter how much you might try to prevent them. So the smart thing to do would be to just go with the flow, right? Just let the things happen and try not to stress over it. Morisuke likes to think of himself as a fairly smart person. So he’ll just take a few deep breaths and let it go, right?

Wrong. (untitled TsukkiYaku fake dating fic)

11. Issei stumbles out of his bedroom and shuffles down the hall doing a really great impression of a zombie if you ask him. He’s got the groans and the unsteady steps and the unfocused eyes and the inability to use higher brain functions like speech and decision making. (my last first everything aka HanaMatsu slow burn mutual pining childhood friends to lovers)

12. The cauldron in the fireplace rattles and Daichi gives it an unimpressed stare. (cauldron bubble aka BokuDai magic accidental baby acquisition)

13. Tobio’s eyes cross as he tries to focus on the object dangling in front of his face. He leans away from it and presses the back of his head against a warm stomach.

“Hello Iwaizumi,” he says. (a place in the sun aka IwaKage fluff)

14. The cupboard under the stairs isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to be. But if you are five and want to hear what the adults are talking about so seriously in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place then, sadly, the cupboard it is. (matchsticks and dragon scales, year 1 aka my Harry Potter rewrite)

15. Hajime takes a sip of his coffee and sighs, ignoring the world around him for just a few minutes while he sits and at his table at Generic Coffee Shop and gets his morning dose of caffeine. (roots and sky aka the IwaOi part of my childhood friends to lovers series, the dichotomy of you and me)

16. It’s two in the afternoon on a Tuesday and all Tadashi wants to do is go home and sleep. Maybe for a week. Maybe for a month. He’s not too entirely picky to be honest. (stars and sea aka the YamaTsukki part of the dichotomy of you and me)

17. So. Library.

Not exactly where he’d thought he’d be working when he was back in high school. But it’s, objectively speaking, not the worst place he could be working. Like sure it’s not quite as interesting as working at the aquarium like Watari. But it’s also not as taboo sounding as working at a funeral place like Matsukawa.

So. You know. It’s not that bad. (past and future aka the KinKuni part of the dichotomy of you and me)

18. Tetsurou glances at the screen one last time before posting and immediately closing out of his browser and signing out of his email. He shuts down his computer a moment later and stands with a quiet groan. It’s been a shit day. It’s not the worst Thursday of his life or anything like that. Just. A shit day. All he wants to do is clock out and go the fucky doodle home. Which is why he hurries past his boss’s office with his head down — he has the worst problem saying no when his boss asks him for things which is how he found himself with Social Media Coordinator tacked onto his business card a few months ago — and when he hear his boss’s door start to open he hurries a little faster and opts for taking the stairs down instead of waiting for the elevator. (body and soul aka the KuroKen part of the dichotomy of you and me)

19. Kei stretches idly as he waits for practice to start. They’re already a few weeks into this year’s season but today they’re apparently waiting for their new team trainer. Or assistant coach. Or something. He wasn’t entirely listening to the announcement from the captain yesterday. (we’ll meet at the horizon aka my epic HinaTsukki slow burn)

20. He knows the moment the words leave his lips that he’s gone too far, that he’s made one too many jokes, said a few too many things he shouldn’t have. He always screws up, is always too much for people to handle. ((don’t) write me an elegy of your past, love aka that AkaKuro & BokuDai fantasy au)

I have no idea if I have any patterns other than I go for humor, a lot. And I can’t pick a favorite cause I love them all for different reasons.

#ezzy writes #ask meme #(sorta)

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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07. Attack in the Pumpkin Patch

AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. Installments can be standalone pieces. Word Count: 3904 Trigger Warnings for this one include: racism, classism, and violence.

Simon arrived with a satchel and a big gym bag, but Grace was still asleep. He looked at her and the way that her makeup was a little smeared on her face, but she still looked so incredibly pretty that it just didn’t make any sense. The alarm on her phone went off while he was hovering and gawking. When her eyes opened, his eyes widened. She shut off the alarm and smiled sleepily at him, “You’re just in time for my wake up photo shoot,” she announced and handed him her phone.

“Your… what?”

They spent several minutes with her posing in various positions in the gown, in bed and getting up and heading for her lavatory. She let him know when it was the last one and said that she needed him to edit them and post them to her social media with the hashtags “iwokeuplikethis,” “belleoftheball,” “beautyrestchamp” and “apexbeauty." She also got him to tag everyone who had anything to do with her look the previous night with a cutesy apology that she delivered for him to type, calling out their names through the door while she washed her face and brushed her teeth, to his annoyance in trying to spell some of these people’s names or handles. He would have complained that he didn’t work for her, but Grace probably purposefully did this right now because she knew that he wasn’t going to interfere with her getting ready today.

The way that Grace simply tossed her gown onto the floor whenever she went to get ready, how she spent far more time than reasonable on her hair and hygiene, and then went through a tedious procedure to pick the perfect outfit was a level of blatant disregard that Simon was definitely used to. He brought along figures that he needed to work on and set up his workspace at her reading bench, with a drafting table that she let him stash in her huge closet, specifically for times like this.

Simon would focus enough on his hobby that Grace's dancing around her room in a tank and boy shorts was… ignorable, while not necessarily the easiest thing in the world to turn his attention from. If I don't look, I won't stare, he'd remind himself whenever he heard her say something, sing something or do something that might elicit a glance at any other time. "Aha!" She said, grabbing her fourth attempt at a shirt selection.

If he paid attention to her, she'd milk it. If he tried to rush her, she'd slow down. Simon didn't react at all and left her to her own devices, because he had known her long enough to know that anything else would keep them in this room longer than her typical antics. "Ppbbbbbbrrrrrrrrr!" She sputtered, looking in the full body mirror. Simon glanced up and winced, immediately regretting doing so, because not only was she still not dressed, she noticed him in the reflection and smiled. He put his head back down and began vigorously painting his figure. "Simon," she called, "You're doing okay waiting, right?"

"I am," he lied, but this time not looking up.

"Good. Because I think that none of this is working for me. It's chilly outside and I need a new fall wardrobe," she whined. "I should have gone shopping specifically for a pumpkin patch date outfit." Simon looked up at the mention of the word "date," but she had gone back into the closet and came out with an armful of clothes.

"That's it!" He said. He set his figures down to dry, slid from his seat and grabbed his new skateboard (same skateboard he stole the previous night, but now it was officially his). "We go to the pumpkin patch every year. It's not some kind of new event and I'm not waiting all day for you and missing out on stuff because you wanna be the fashionista of the pumpkin patch this year!"

She rolled her eyes and slowly sorted through the clothes. Simon paced for a moment, then he sat back down, like she knew he would. Go by himself? Somewhere that other people would be? Simon wasn't doing that. He hated other people. And doing stuff like this wasn't fun by himself - only with her. He fumed and asked, "Could you please hurry up?"

"I'm going as fast as fashion greatness will allow! Don't you WANT me to look good?"

Simon blushed and groaned, "I don't care how you look!"

"The cuter I am, the more free stuff they give us," she reminded him.

"I get free stuff all the time and I never have to be ‘cute’ to get it," he complained.

"Noted… but, I don't feel like robbing farmers and stuff. They're nice, good people just trying to sell their wares. Now, if they GIVE me their delicious treats, that's another story. A story that starts with how cute I am. Which one?" She asked about two sweaters. Simon looked between the two, selected one and she set it down to put on the other. Joke's on her. I picked the one I didn't like as much. I know exactly how she is. Which was moot because she looked good in anything.

It hugged her curves and fell just to her thighs and she gave herself a nod before grabbing her leggings. Simon sat by the window and looked out of it. Her locs were down again and she slid a tam hat over them and purposefully set the number of locs she wanted to hang out.

Nobody had brought up last night's kiss. He was awake all night thinking about it and what she meant by it. He’d stayed in the shower until the water was freezing, he’d laid down and stared at the ceiling, asking Samantha everything that he needed to know, “Was she just caught up in a moment? Does she actually like me? If she likes me, would she even really ever date me?...” Samantha eventually left him and he just thought more questions, vowing that the cat was a traitor that always left him whenever he needed her. She ran past his door and he jumped up. She ran the other way and he rolled his eyes and laid back down. Cats were weird… Like that kiss from Grace. Because, that was weird, right? They weren’t… like that. They were friends. The best of friends, but… friends, yeah?

He would ask her, but they didn't need to elongate her preparation time. He'd ask her at the pumpkin patch. Maybe over some pie and cider…

"All set!" She announced. “I look good, right?” He begrudgingly nodded. “Totally worth the wait!” She added. Now, he just threw her a look of disbelief and she smiled at him, already convinced that her look was worth the wait, whether or not he agreed. It wasn’t like they’d be late. He always arrived much too early to everywhere, including her place when she had to get ready.

Grace's driver dropped them off at the entrance and Grace let him know where and when to get her, many hours later and many miles away. She was on her third driver since her hair incident and this one she knew wouldn't last long, because he bothered her parents too much. The last one didn't touch base enough. The one before that didn't like Simon. She couldn't remember these days how she got rid of him, but not liking Simon was indeed a deal breaker for her. What if he’d told her parents about Simon? What if he’d said something that would prompt them to forbid her to see him? She didn’t think the guy would, but if he might, he had to go.

Whenever they went through the patch, she noted that Simon seemed deep in thought. "Dude, if you're thinking about student council or the cub scouts or something nerdy or pretentious, like war reenactment or your engineering grade; I'm un-dating you today."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "We were cub scouts as little kids. It's just called a scout, now."

"That's all he heard," she said, shaking her head.

"I heard you," he said, rolling his eyes. "Addressing it seemed non-essential. All you did was make a list and throw it at me. You're not leaving me at the pumpkin patch. We do the pumpkin patch every year."

"You're just really not gonna tell me what's on your mind, then."

He opened his mouth, shut it, tilted his head in thought and said, "Last night."

"Last night? Last night was amazing! How can you think about last night and make this face?" She imitated his face but totally exaggerated it to be far more sullen than he knew he looked. He was troubled, but not like THAT. "This is the face I make when I think about last night." She smiled as big as she could smile and pointed to her smile with both of her thumbs. He couldn’t help but to laugh. “You’ve got it, now.”

He stopped laughing and sighed, back to his broody self. “Simon, listen to me. As far as the time we spent together, as far as I’m concerned, last night was THE BEST NIGHT that we’ve ever had!” He nodded his head in agreement. “So, don’t stress yourself out. Be thankful that what started as a really crappy night, thanks to Mom, ended on such a high note!” He blushed.

A high note. They ended the night kissing. It was small, but there was no such thing as a small kiss as a teenager with precisely one friend. She tucked her arm into his. This wasn’t necessarily new, but it felt so different to him now. It felt more romantic. It felt more emotional. He looked at Grace’s smiling face and she looked exactly the same as she always had, but she somehow looked totally different, like he was looking at her with somebody else’s eyes now… somebody in love with her and not just loving her as a friend. Oh God! Was he… in LOVE with Grace? Was that why he was so preoccupied with what that kiss meant? He’d presumed he just wanted clarity of her intentions, as to not taint the friendship or make things incomprehensible, but… He was feeling love feelings!

Within moments, she broke the physical connection and he immediately craved it, but she was rushing towards the line for a hayride, doing a jazz run and chanting, “HAYRIDE, HAYRIDE!” with her fist in the air. He laughed and followed, just running like a regular person, not some kind of pumpkin patch fairy, but also cheering, “HAYRIDE, HAYRIDE!”

Later on, she got a phone call, while she was trying to stuff a handful of popcorn into Simon’s mouth, despite him playfully shoving her away. They both knew he wanted to eat out of her hand. She placed a single finger up to indicate “wait,” tossed the popcorn at his face and only a few pieces went in, while the rest slapped various parts of him. He dusted himself off while she looked at the phone, hesitant. He was going to ask who it was, but she answered, “Hi, Mom?”

She listened for a moment, then her charming voice kicked in, explaining, “Sorry about the gown, I went to this exclusive after party with the best of company and… Oh! Of course you don’t care… Sorry I. Yes mother. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Oh?” She was listening for a little while longer, then said, “Well, I have plans with Sim… uh… some friend…” Simon heard it and instantly turned red, staring at the ground with a dejected glare. “Yes, of course, I’ll be there. Yes. Thank you. I appreciate everything that you do for me.” She hung up and put her phone away, instantly noticing Simon’s change in mood.

“After meeting her, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that that’s the way that you sign off of a phone call with her,” he said, shoving the bag of popcorn her way.

“So, good news!” She cheered, not addressing his comment, but accepting the bag of popcorn.

He looked up and she just KNEW, he was not about to let this go easily. She tried to graze over it anyway. “My mom was just setting up this video chat interview for me for later on…" He raised an eyebrow. "Apparently someone contacted her about the pics you posted this morning, and I just might become a brand ambassador for this holistic health and beauty company to tap into the teen market!" She was extremely excited for a moment, then her excitement died. "But that's stupid. It's skin and hair and makeup and fashion… Like, I'm a dancer? I'm a musician…" his face hadn't changed. "Sorry about the uh, the other thing. It's just… I mean, you've met her now. You can see how she'll act towards you…"

"So, I'm supposed to not feel it whenever you throw me under the bus to save face in front of your mom?"

"I mean… she's not important, to us, Simon. How I have to communicate with her is fake. You shouldn’t feel it. Don't worry about it." She flicked his little ponytail with her fingertips and watched him blush, but he was still glaring at her. She handed the bag of popcorn to some kid passing, and reached under Simon’s hoodie.

“What are you?...” He didn’t get to finish asking, and his widened eyes shut, though he was just as red from her reaching under as he was from her tickling him. “STOP! THAT’S NOT FUNNY, GRAAAAAYYYYEEECE!” She stopped and he fumed for a quick second, then rushed at her and began to tickle her back. She tried to jump over a pumpkin to begin running but he caught her mid jump and declared, “Tickle fight!” She squealed and laughed and fell back onto him and they both crashed to the ground. He groaned and she continued laughing.

“Are you okay?”

“She asked, after laughing very vigorously at my pain.” She got up and held a hand out to help him up. He rubbed his back. “Who’d have thought that a tickle fight could get so rough?” They laughed and continued.

Even later still, Simon was in line for pie, Grace was going to get the hot cider, and they were gonna meet up to have their picnic before selecting pumpkins. She went along, humming to herself and lightly dancing towards the line whenever she bumped into someone. “My bad,” she said, with a smile.

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” He asked, roughly. She glanced around, noting that Simon was out of eye shot, and decided not to escalate, because of it. It was a big guy, older than her. She’d venture to say this was actually a grown man by his features, and he looked like two things - like one of those dudes that flew a Confederate flag from his truck, and also like he had a gun on him.

“I apologize,” she said through smiling teeth. She turned to leave and he mumbled a word at her. She still heard him clearly. Her eyes stung and she turned to glare at him, but he simply gave her a daring smirk until she left.

Shaken up and angry, she got into the line and ordered drinks and a cup holder. She traveled back over to meet Simon, who was setting down stuff for a little picnic, but she shook her head and reached into the bag for her mask. He became alert almost immediately as she took off her sweater. “What happened?” he wondered. This was the pumpkin patch. They kind of were known here and the way that she looked, her mask wasn’t going to hide her identity today. She shook her head, angry and ready to fight as she put the mask on and picked up two of the four ciders.

Simon had just realized that there were four ciders. She had her mask… those two ciders were weapons in her hands “Grace, your interview!” She was breathing hard when she stopped and looked at him. "Don't let someone take that away from you." He walked over to her slowly, removed the mask and took the ciders. “Tell me what happened.”

Breathing hard, she repeated the story for him and he nodded his head. She could tell that he was livid, even though he seemed to be keeping his cool. She got back into her sweater, now that she wasn’t fuming, the undershirt was nothing for this wind. “Where is he?” Simon wondered, with eyes darting around the area. She described the guy, but she didn’t see him around or anything. They sat in silence. She didn’t seem hungry anymore and Simon couldn’t enjoy himself with her like this. “Wanna go?” He asked.

“I’m Grace Monroe,” she said. “I mean… He was some null who probably barely scrapes by for a living, and he calls ME the N word?” She shook her head, “I’ve gotta get away from here. I don’t even feel comfortable here right now.” Simon nodded and packed up his bag. He handed her a leftover cider and she accepted it, but wasn’t drinking it.

He couldn’t ask her more about the kiss and he felt kinda bad that he was even thinking about that while she was going through… something. He couldn’t really tell what she was going through. He only understood this experience in passing and from reading about it. It wasn’t really something applicable to his life, but he was guessing from her reaction that she had not had the experience herself, or she just didn’t often and it shocked her system or something. If she had ever been called that before, she'd never told him about it. She was really… upset. He hated how much. He knew that she would feel weak for it. It hurt him to watch.

They walked for a little bit longer, heading towards the exit when she stopped and narrowed her eyes. Simon looked at somebody who fit the description of the person she described earlier. He was larger than she made him seem, and he just looked extremely mean and probably violent.

Simon passed her up, slid the cider out of her hand and beat her to the punch… or rather, the splash. Simon was so quick the man didn't know he was coming at him until the cider was in his eyes. Dude went down. Simon swung his skateboard at him and hit him with it. Grace looked around, making sure nobody saw him and picked up the bag that Simon dropped.

Nobody seemed to notice them yet, but the guy was screaming, although, she was sure that the cider had cooled down a lot, maybe it was Simon cracking his head with that skateboard. Simon slammed the butt of it into his throat and he started coughing and gagging, but he wasn’t screaming anymore. “We gotta go, Gray Eyes,” she said. Simon nodded once, reached for her hand and she took his, smiling triumphantly as they took off running. They made it far enough away to feel okay pausing and she laughed. “Oh my god, I know you like SERIOUSLY hurt that guy!”

Simon held out his hand, smiling, “And I got you a gift.” It was a lighter. He put it in her hand and closed her hand around it.

"Are you alright though?" She wondered, not smiling now. Simon had been vicious. She had definitely seen him mad before, but this was the most aggressive that she could remember him being and she wondered if… if it wasn't something else.

“I’m never gonna let anybody get away with making you feel bad like that. I've never seen you so upset and helpless. It was like he'd taken your power, and I had to be the one to get it back. You have too much going for you. If somebody noticed you... I don’t know what I’d do if you got into trouble.” It was partially that, partially he felt protective and possessive of her, partially he wanted her to look at him exactly the way she was right now… like he was her king.

“You’re the best friend that anybody could have… You… I’m gonna bring you home to my mom and dad. I’m gonna present you and I’m gonna DEMAND that they treat you with kindness and respect.”

He held out his hand for hers again and she took it, and leaned in closely to him. “I don’t… know if… I want to be your friend…” Simon said.

She frowned and nodded her head. “I definitely get that feeling… But… I think we should. I mean… I think we work really well like we are, and that we shouldn’t mess that up. People turn into boyfriend and girlfriend, then when something bad happens, they hate each other. I can’t have my one person hate me. That would hurt me more than getting caught burning some null.”

His face went through a range of emotions that she wasn’t looking at. She was avoiding seeing his face at the moment. “Are you sure it’s just that?”

“What do you mean?” She asked and stopped walking.

“The way you talked about that racist null… Like he should’ve known better because you’re rich and he’s not. It's the way that the rich kids at the academy talk about me."

“Oh.” She shook her head, “Whenever I say stuff like that, I don’t mean YOU, ever. You were right when you said you deserve to be one of the elites. It’s not your fault that your parents don’t have as much as some of ours, just like there’s nothing I’ve done to deserve it. But, you should know that whatever is mine, anything that I have power over is yours, too, Simon. Anything that I get, I split with you, always. You’re my other half.” She intertwined their fingers and he squeezed them together. He smiled at their hands, but her face suddenly changed to one of... contempt.

She knew that something was bothering him at school, but every time she asked him about it, he’d tell her that everything was fine and that he was glad that she was happy. She should have known that people where being mean to him. They were all just fancily built nulls, flagrantly trying to assert their dominance. Well, not over her Simon. Not on her watch. “Why aren’t we RUNNING the Academy, by now?” She asked him, flustered with thoughts of the past few months being hard on him and her... not even noticing...

“Because you’ve been playing nice and being everyone’s friend instead of showing them who you are and using them like stepping stones,” he said with a shrug. "You’ve hidden your power every time we step on campus."

“Yeah… I’m not doing that anymore. They're not gonna disrespect you as long as I exist. The Apex is taking over the Academy.” He smirked at her and she smirked back. Maybe he didn't need to have her romantically. She had a point - they were still a team, even without a title or the responsibility of romance… no, not just a team… she’d said before, and even tonight that he was "her other half."

They were one.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics #Attack in the Pumpkin Patch

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tibbinswrites · 4 years

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Yi! I am the anon who requested 16 and 77. You could do angst but with a happy ending?

Hi Anon! I did it! Finally xD sorry you had to wait so long. I might have more time on my hands but that doesn’t mean I always spend it wisely, or that my brain wants to cooperate when I tell it to make a story.

Man, I really love this prompt. You picked a gooden. I won’t officially pair it with prompt 16 because I’ve already used that number (though I did add a kiss in it for you ;))

Warning for mentions of suicide (no one named, no details, just mentioned).

I hope you like it ^_^

I’ve now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #77, #78, #170 and #502

I also have 3 prompts waiting for: #20, #33 and an addition to #170 so if you send me a new one in be prepared to wait a while!

77. You just stood there and held me, then you started dancin’ slow. And as I pulled you tighter I swore I’d never let you go. (Point Blank)

Sam and Dean had been gone for almost two weeks now. Cas wasn’t worried, they checked in on a daily basis with updates and requests for lore and questions about how Jack was settling back in so he knew they were okay. They were hunting something with some kind of mind altering tendencies, whether a djinn, wraith, witch or something else was yet to be determined but it had killed six people. The victims had complained of nightmares a few days before their deaths. Suicides, all of them, and not clean. The thing was proving difficult to track down, it didn’t seem to have a preference of victims, man or woman, old or young. Different ethnicities and social circles, there didn’t seem to be anything that linked them. Cas could sense their frustration, but no, he wasn’t worried.

He did miss them however, especially Dean. Jack was good company; they played board games and Cas taught him some of the basics of fighting with a blade, just in case he was ever faced with an enemy while he couldn’t use his powers. They watched Netflix together, the brightly-coloured modern cartoons that Sam and Dean scoffed at and Jack asked him questions about angels and monsters and lore of all kinds, but there was always a certain level of separation to it, in the way he understood that there had to be between parents and their children and there were less jokes than when the Winchesters were around, less laughter. Cas wasn’t very good at jokes. His dry humour would sometimes get a snort or a small chuckle, but that was the extent of it. He didn’t have Dean’s ability to goof around and act the fool, nor did he have Sam’s quick tact in knowing where to poke to cause a laugh rather than offence. Jack wasn’t very good at jokes either though, so they rubbed along quite well together.

It was on the twelfth morning that Sam called for the second time that day and when Cas looked at the phone he knew something had gone wrong.

“What happened?” He demanded without preamble.

“Dean had a nightmare.” Sam’s voice was tight and worried, “A bad one.”

Cas frowned. “That’s not too unusual. Unless you think…”

“The thing got him. Yeah.”

“So you have… what? Less than two days until he becomes a suicide risk?”

“Yeah.”

Cas clenched his jaw, reached his free hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not far away, I can be there-”

“No,” Sam said firmly. “I don’t want Jack anywhere near this thing and you can’t leave him alone right now. You need to stay where you are. We’ll figure this out.”

“But-”

“I know,” Sam said, and he really did sound apologetic. “Trust me, I’d rather have you here too. But we have Jack to look after and I’m not actually sure you coming here would help Dean. I mentioned you before and he just kind of… froze up.”

“He did?” Cas frowned at the far wall, that didn’t make any sense.

“Yeah. And he got this look… I think his nightmare was about you, or had you in it or something. Of course, I don’t know because he won’t talk to me but… It might be best you stay away for now. I’ll keep you posted.”

Cas sighed, biting down on his instinct to run to the garage and grab a set of keys. With his failing grace there was no guarantee he’d be able to do something so complex as break a curse or purge a venom or completely undo a biological reaction#. There were certain intricacies involved and he wasn’t certain he had the strength. The brothers could still fix this on their own, they still had time.

“Alright.” He conceded. “I’ll give you forty-eight hours. But after that I’m coming to meet you. I can’t just sit here and wait for that call.” His voice wobbled a little at the end as his imagination ran wild. But it wasn’t just the thought of Dean taking his own life that terrified him… selfishly it was the idea that Cas needed to see him again, that he couldn’t let the last memory he had of Dean be one where he’d walked away.

“That’s fair.” Sam agreed, and Cas could picture him running a hand through his hair, the way he did when he was stressed and worried. “But it won’t be needed. We’ll fix this. We’ll kill the thing and it’ll be fine.”

“Get Dean to make a list of everyone he met or bumped into yesterday,” Cas said in lieu of something reassuring. He had complete faith in the brothers, knew that they were more than capable hunters, that Sam at least would do whatever it took to save Dean, but there was still a tiny kernel in his brain that whispered what if he can’t this time, and Cas knew that it wouldn’t go away until the danger had passed.

The rest of the phone call was tense and perfunctory, but once he hung up, not being able to hear Sam’s concern actually alleviated his own. The danger wasn’t immediate yet and he trusted them to find a solution fast.

Xxx

It took them until the next morning. Cas was sitting with Jack and they were talking over bowls of cereal with the kind of sugar content that always made Sam purse his lips. Jack hadn’t seemed overly concerned about Dean when Cas told him what had happened; apparently he had the same confidence in the Winchesters that Cas did, and his surety was comforting.

The phone rang and even though Cas was sure nothing was wrong, that this was just Sam’s daily update on the situation, his spoon went clattering back into the bowl, splattering milk everywhere as he jumped to answer it.

“Sam?” He said. His voice did not tremble.

“We got it.” Sam’s voice was pure relief. “Witch. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Cas sighed heavy and cleansing. The expression on his face must have told Jack everything he needed to know because he smiled, gave a thumbs up and went back to his cereal.

“I’m glad,” Cas said. “Dean’s alright?”

“Yeah, the curse has broken.” Sam hesitated then, and his voice dropped like Dean was close by and he didn’t want him to overhear. “But it was real tough on him. Sent him into some kind of waking nightmare. Screaming fit, something. So he might not want to celebrate or anything when we get back.”

Which was code for ‘don’t be offended if Dean locks himself in his room for the next three days.’

“Of course. It’ll just be good to have you home. See you soon, Sam.”

“Bye, Cas.”

Cas placed the phone down and smiled as Jack munched on his cereal.

“They’re heading back. They should be here by noon.”

“Cool,” Jack said around his spoon. “I’m glad Dean’s okay.”

“Me too,” Cas agreed.

“I mean… I wasn’t exactly worried,” Jack continued, a slight furrow in his brow. “Is that wrong? I don’t know if it’s because of my soul or if I just knew they’d make it back.”

“The Winchesters do have an excellent record for making it through these kinds of situations,” Cas said carefully. “It’s not wrong to expect them to always make it back. It’s easy to feel like the danger isn’t real when we have all faced so much worse than a rogue witch. But many experienced hunters get killed on routine cases. The danger is always real, sometimes it’s just a matter of luck.”

“Or a matter of having your lives written out by God,” Jack said, a slight quirk to his mouth that Cas couldn’t help but mirror.

“Yes. I suppose knowing that Chuck has a specific plan for them makes it easier,” he said. “Knowing Him, if Sam or Dean dies on an ordinary case He’ll just resurrect them until they can play out His story. Or at least, their own story. They’ve never been good at following rules.”

Xxx

It had just gone midday when the door of the bunker clanged loudly, indicating the return of the brothers. Cas hurried to the war room to meet them. It was silly perhaps but he wanted to see Dean for himself, to make sure that he was alright. Dean shuffled behind Sam, his head down. He looked pale and wan, like he often did after the kind of nightmare that drew Cas into his room to try and soothe away. Clearly, whatever the witch had done to him was going to take more than a gas station burrito and a drive in the impala to get over. Sam looked like he needed a hot shower and a long nap. He nodded to Cas as he passed, clapping him on the shoulder. When Dean caught sight of him though he stopped halfway through a step. He seemed to forget that he was walking and began to tip forwards. Concerned, Cas stepped in to catch him and found himself with Dean’s arms around his neck and Dean’s smell in his nose and Dean’s mouth on his and his whole existence narrowed to just Dean, Dean, Dean.

Thoroughly overwhelmed by the whole situation, Cas decided that his best course of action was not to move so he stood there stiffly until Dean pulled back, only to bury his face in Cas’ shoulder instead and, in a move more terrifying than the wrath of God, began to sob.

“I killed you.” Dean’s voice was tiny and broken, barely audible, even to his ears. “I killed you and you let me and I had to burn you all over again.”

Cas didn’t know what to say. What would be the point in telling Dean that it was just a bad dream brought on by a curse? That it wasn’t real? Dean knew that, just as Cas had known that the room full of Deans that Naomi had made him kill weren’t real. That didn’t make the guilt any easier to carry. So instead he said nothing, raising his arms to fold them around Dean’s back, pulling him closer.

“I felt it,” Dean muttered against his neck. “It was so real. I had to, I just knew that I had to. But I don’t know why, and it doesn’t matter. I don’t care what happens, I know that I can’t do that again. I don’t care if the world burns.”

“I love you.” Cas whispered back, because for the first time it needed to be said. It had existed in the in-between spaces of their lives, of course, their love. Cas knew that Dean felt it too, knew it probably before Dean himself had accepted it. But Cas had let it exist without acknowledgement. He didn’t need a declaration and Dean wasn’t ready to make one. The feeling was enough.

Dean didn’t say it back, but Cas felt it in the way he clung on tighter, his fingers digging into his shoulder blades even through his trenchcoat and shirt. So Cas said it again, and again, his words the song forever playing in his mind, a symphony of feeling. So he began to rock Dean along to the sound, soothing and slow, patient and endless, and it was almost dancing, he thought, tightening his own hold. And as he did so, he knew that be it forty more years or four more minutes, Castiel would be content if he got to spend them holding Dean.

#prompts #prompt #supernatural #Destiel fanfic #spn fanfic #suicide mention cw #writing #TibbinsWrites #fanfiction

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eabhaalynn · 4 years

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Punisher and Why it is my Album of the Year... Already

Every few years, we come across a singer-songwriter who is so devastatingly assured in their talent that they come to be generation defining. Their songs are synonymous with the era they’re written in, with the themes they discuss. Names like Bob Dylan, Stevie Nicks, and Amy Winehouse come to mind. This weeks’ release of “Punisher,” the sophomore album by Californian indie-rock icon Phoebe Bridgers has solidified her name on that list.

From her first note of her first album ‘Stranger in the Alps’ in 2017, we could see -or perhaps more fittingly, hear- that Phoebe is a force to be reckoned with. Her distinctive, haunting vocals from that album have made the soundtrack to many summers since, and many films to match. ‘Motion Sickness’details the emotional abuse of a relationship the then twenty-two-year-old musician had with Ryan Adams, an established voice in the alternative rock scene. In the years since, numerous allegations of sexual misconduct against Adams have come to the public’s attention. This only further points to the bravery of Bridgers’ in writing and releasing such a poignant track so early on in her career.

Thematically, Stranger in the Alps touches on death, depression, emotional abuse and heartbreak, without ever verging into the cringe or the cliché. Bridgers’ raw, honest vocals and song-writing skill make it a strangely comforting experience to listen to, and an album that is as melodically beautiful as it is lyrically heart wrenching. You would be forgiven for thinking that it’d be too impossible an act to follow, especially for an artist so early on in her career.

“The future’s unwritten, the past is a corridor.” – Smoke Signals, 2017

Ms Bridgers swiftly followed her solo debut with 2018’s Boygenius and 2019’s Better Oblivion Community Center. The former, a collaboration with Julian Baker and Lucy Dacus, played into the strengths of all three musicians, resulting in a fusion of indie-rock and folk-rock, and giving Phoebe ample opportunity to release more of the distinctive poetic lyricism that have become synonymous with her name. The blend of the three genres and voices is a beautiful and haunting EP that has aged with Ms Bridgers and become a defining moment for her career.

The latter, Better Oblivion Community Center, is a duo consisting of Phoebe and long-term friend and collaborator Conor Oberst. Their self-titled debut album loosely is themed around a dystopian wellness centre of the same name. The record is coherent, creative and once again plays to the strengths of both musicians, their voices complement each other beautifully, despite or perhaps because of the contrast in their styles. The album is undoubtably a feat of production, and plays into elements of electronic and country music, for the first, though evidently not the last time in Phoebe’s discography.

“So sick of being honest / I’ll die like Dylan Thomas” – Dylan Thomas, 2019

Which brings us swiftly on to 2020, the year of COVID, contradictions and confusion for all of us. Punisher, Phoebe Bridgers’ sophomore album was released on June 18th, at the perfect intersection of lockdowns lift and the beginning of summer. The release itself coincided with a time of social upheaval across the US and further afield, prompting Bridgers to move the official release date a day forward from ‘Juneteenth’, the official end of slavery in the US. Across her social media profiles, she prompted her fans to donate to organisations seeking racial justice.

"I'm not [delaying] the record until things go back to 'normal' because I don't think they should,” – https://twitter.com/phoebe_bridgers

The album opens with the instrumental track, ‘DVD Menu,’a seventy-second long, vaguely ominous string-led instrumental reminiscent of the video-game themes the artist would’ve grown up with in the early 2000s. It provides the perfect anticipatory build up into lead-single ‘Garden Song,’ a prospective looking, dreamy love song. Initially released on February 26th, 2020; Garden Song acts somewhat as a sequel to Stranger in the Alps’ Smoke Signals. It follows thematically, melodically, and continues Phoebes’ established lyrical poeticism. Like Smoke Signals, Garden Song is slow, but enthralling. The melody makes you want to listen, the lyrics make you want to fall in love.

Following on from this is second single, and third song, ‘Kyoto,’ in sharp contrast to the slow, strong self-awareness of the earlier songs, Kyoto presents a whirlwind of emotions, an aural dissociation of sorts. Kyoto is fast-paced, guitar led, and even difficult to follow. Almost anxiety-inducing, Kyoto is an exciting accomplishment of alt-pop. Phoebe’s strong descriptive lyrics manage to change themes between and even within verses, suggesting a struggle between her inner and her outer self, and how this same struggle bleeds into her relationships with others.

In musical circles, a ‘Punisher,’ is a name for an overzealous fan. The titular track of the album places Phoebe herself in this role. The song imagines a conversation between Phoebe and an artist she clearly admires very much. It is the first piano-led track of the album; and marks a contrast with the prior songs as she is able to outwardly express her emotion and feelings in the song’s narrative for the first time. While this is essentially a song to a stranger, it is marked with Phoebe’s distinctive emotional lyrics and vocal; and retains the same charge of emotional attachment that has become so characteristic of her discography.

Following this is ‘Halloween,’ a song that plunges us immediately into Phoebe’s narrative and lived situation. Utilising picking on guitar strings to produce the holiday season of the song’s setting sonically, Ms Bridgers takes us into her loveless relationship just in time for ‘cuffing season,’ and the all too familiar feeling of holding on to something that isn’t there, just because of the time of year. The melancholy is only furthered by the repetition in the song’s latter half by Conor Oberst, collaborator and Better Oblivion Community Centrebandmate.

Fan-favourite, and a personal favourite of mine, ‘Chinese Satellite,’ reflects on loss, and grief. Musically, it builds, starting slowly with a single guitar line and Phoebe’s vocals. By the end of the first verse, both the guitars and vocals have been layered, producing a haunting effect only furthered by the synth and drums of the latter half of the song.

Lyrically, Phoebe starts out questioning her circumstances, wondering why this unnamed event has occurred. She later turns this uncertainty onto herself, questioning her own lack of faith. Finally, she remembers memories of herself with the person who has been lost, and in retrospect, she yearns for the belief that she will see them again. This yearning that closes the song is accompanied by a drum, once again paired only with her voice, that is sonically reminiscent of a heartbeat. Chinese Satellite has provided a great comfort to me personally in a time of great loss, and while I know I am calling it extremely early I do not doubt it is my song of the year.

“Moon Song” follows, and it is a love song to someone facing issues with their own self-esteem. With beautifully raw production, the tough scratch of an acoustic guitar provides contrast to the soft and kind vocals. The song provides some of the best lyrics of the album, or perhaps of her entire discography, and in doing so, manage to make a fairly specific story of love through mental illness and self-deprecation accessible to Ms Bridgers’ broad audience.

‘We hate ‘Tears in Heaven’ / But it’s sad his baby died’ – Moon Song, 2020

This theme of a somewhat doomed relationship continues into ‘Savio[u]r Complex,’in this similarly acoustic ballad, orchestral strings pitched above Phoebe’s voice play further into the melancholy and toxicity described throughout the songs’ lyrics. Her use of metaphor and allegory throughout the song helps retain the accessibility of the otherwise characteristically dark lyrics, her strong descriptions throughout playing into the same emotions of Stranger in the Alps’ ‘Funeral.’

‘ICU’ initially released as ‘I See You’ due to the timing of the COVID crisis, was the final single released before the album, on May 19th,2020. It is a typically Phoebe Bridgers’ breakup song, one that acknowledges the love that she’s losing. Starting with a soft scream, literally, the songs’ vocals are raw over a distorted synth background. Sonically, the song is a mesh of all of the components of the songs preceding it, building to a climax before dropping out just in time for the final verse. This is, in my opinion, the best single, and one of her best to date.

Penultimate song ‘Graceland Too’ swings the album in a bluegrass direction, and in doing so, provides an ode to the influences Bridgers has taken from the genre. Its title references Elvis Presley’s ranch and tourist attraction of the same name. The song features her Boygenius bandmates in its latter half, resulting in an admirable melody not dissimilar to their EP.

The album closes with ‘I Know the End,’ an anthemic ballad that falls just short of six-minutes long. It begins telling different stories, centring around episodes of low-mood and depression, the causes of which are implied consistently to be related to the stresses of touring and the musician’s lifestyle. These stories are told over a guitar-led melody, initially pitched to be much quieter than the vocals. A feat of production, the messy string melody gains traction as the song progresses, building over the first half of the song in pitch, volume and number of instruments. Around the two-minute mark, the song is split by an instrumental, and when vocals return, they bring with them an increasing sense of urgency. The latter half of the song details a road trip Phoebe takes and pays heed to the sights and sounds she encounters throughout.

The song, and thus the album, concludes with a chorus of vocals repeating ‘The End is Near,’ over a chaotic melody of all sorts of instruments and assorted sounds, before descending into shouts and screams from Phoebe and friends in the last number of seconds.

I don’t even believe I need to clarify this, but just in case you have any doubt, this album is my favourite of the year so far. 10/10

#Phoebe Bridgers #punisher #stranger in the alps #boygenius #better oblivion community center #indie pop #indie #music #music review

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idontworkforsega · 5 years

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*drum rolls Presenting another list of cutegirlmayra’s amazing work! TA~DAH!!

“Boom!Sonamy: I need more jealous/concerned sonic please. Whatcha got miss?” | “Anymore Sonamy Sonic Boom headcanons” | “Ok, I got an idea! A Sonic Boom Prompt (doesn’t have to be necessarily sonamy-ish) where the gang go on a death defying mission! Like chock full of action! I’d be interested to see how you’d do this :)” | “I was thinking of a prompt that there is going to be a half hour special of Sonic Boom that features time travel where Eggman sends Sonic to the future and he meets the older version of the team, but they’re angry at him thinking he abandoned them! What do you think Mayra?? :3” | “Anymore Sonamy Sonic Boom headcanons?” | “Hiya~ it’s Alii. I got a prompt for ya! I was reading the other prompt that you wrote for an anon, and it definitely got me thinking: What were to happen if Sonic and Amy were official, but had to keep it hidden? I’m picturing them stumbling to do so, especially Amy. Try to keep them as canon as possible, which I know is hard, but it can be done!! Also, if you could, I would love to see how suspicious Tails gets. He’d probably pick up on Sonic’s change of behaviour? aa thank you!! xx” | “Ok this is just a Sonic Boom! Prompt, and you don’t have to do it if you don’t have time. Anyway, one of my major Sonic Boom headcanons for me is that all the team have mysterious pasts. So this would take place when they’re on their way to find Lyric and they find an old wise man in a temple they fall into. The man tells them they need to know their pasts in order to be a good team, so he uses his magic to help them see eachothers memories. I hope you get really detailed, but anything is great!” | “How about just headcanons for Knuckles (as in character development-ish)” | “Can you do a boom!prompt telling the story of when the gang met sonic for the first time? And possibly add some sonamy? Like what they first thought of him. (I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense xD) Thanks!” | “Mission Prompt for Sonamy” | “If you still are doing the meme prompt, can be the letter I with Sonamy? 👉👈” | “Hey, if you wouldn’t mind, could you do something with Sly/Carmelita with F from the second prompt meme? That would be amazing!” | “Mission: Prompt 4” | “Mission: Prompt” | “Oh oh oh! Can you do a boom!sonamy prompt where amy is totally stressed out bout stuff and almot pulling her hair out (not literally lol) and so sonic takes her out for a night on the town! If you please, :)” | “OKAYOKAYOKAY SO I SAW THE THING ABOUT HOW THE SONIC BOOM GANG WERE THE ORIGINAL ANCIENTS AND I TOTALLY FLIPPED COULD YOU DO A BOOM!SONAMY PROMPT BUT INSTEAD OF SONIC AND AMY YOU COULD WRITE ABOUT THE ANCIENT AMY AND ANCIENT SONIC AND THEIR STORY?? I AM SORRY BECAUSE YOU PROBABLY NEED MORE INFO TO WRITE ABOUT THAT BUT YOU COULD MAKE IT UP FOR ALL I CARE IM SORRY IM YELLING I JUST LOVE THIS IDEA (okay I’m calm now)” | “@elyzahere My internet isn’t letting me ask you this, so I’ll have to write it out here. Hope you don’t mind. ^,^’” | “Pssst, can you whip up a little modern!sonamy for me? I’ll leave the story or mood or Anything to whatever ya like, really! :D” | “Ok! A Sonic Boom Prompt where the gang is after a fox girl villain (who just so happens to be really pretty) who holds the last crystal fragment in her clutches. After drawing straws, Sonic is forced to flirt with her. That way, Amy, who has the best sneaking skills, would be able to take back the crystal piece. Amy hears them flirting and thinks Sonic is being serious and gets her heart broken…you do the rest!” | “Boom!sonamy prompt: Sonic and Amy have a flirting competition while no one is around XD” | “OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DOING THE SLY COOPER AU!!! I actually loved, could you do another boom! sonamy sly cooper au? If you want, you don’t have to. But yeah, thanks!!! <3” | “Can you do a boom!sonamy prompt where sonic gets really beaten badly and amy is healing him? (cough cough beauty and the beast reference coughcough) And make it really fluffy! Feels galore if the missus don’t mind ;D Thanks dear!” | “have you got any lifestyle headcanons for the main sonic cast? like, a routine they always do, something they can’t stand, a particular belief they hold? this is just for any characters you like/ make headcanons about :P not really a prompt, just wondering :)” | “hey, a bit out of your norm, but could you please write something for the chaotix? headcanon, theories, anything like that? thanks very much, lovely :)” | “Here’s a prompt : Sonic Boom : Sonic and Amy are forced to share a room (or more importantly, a bed) after the team finds a village, can you write something about how they would react to that, and how they would make it work? That would be interesting!! (and evil >:D ) KAY BYE!!!” | “I would lile some cute fluff boom!sonamy, please! Whether it be flirting, singing, dancing, cuddling, anything!! Thank you, dear!” | “Okay, okay, I’m done messing with you~ Here’s a CANON prompt! (Modern) Sonic gets blasted by a laser that took his speed away! Now, he was to walk around like a normal person until Tails finds a way to fix him. WHAT WILL HE DO?!? (Just a little funny thingy)” | “Hey can I as for a special request..? Uhm, I know we all love sonamy ,everyone’s otp as well as mine and I really do love your cute stories but uh…I’m trying to get over someone and I was wondering if you could maybe make a story where Amy moves on..? Or where they except that they can’t be together and that’s it’s okay. I know it’s not very modern but maybe boom..? You don’t have to but I hold her dear to me and wonder how she would handle a break up/ getting over someone…” | “Prompt maybe: After a lot of arguing in the gang, the group decides to sit down and say nice things about each other (most of which are really corny) and then sonic and Amy’s turn gets quite cute and yea… :)” | “How about this for a prompt: Sticks sees this new guy in the village and likes him. Only problem is, SHE’S TOTALLY FREAKING OUT CAUSE SHE LIKES SOMEONE, THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE, SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHAT TO DO, and is generally freaked out (like her reaction to most things). So she tells Amy who tries to help. Take it away~” | “Heya! Could you do a Sonamy Boom Prompt that can be anything you want but on one condition: you have to include these three objects/things, in no particular order: 1. Enerbeams 2. Stars 3. A Distraction.” | “Prompt!(BOOM) (Since Amy is keeping this a secret, I decided to go that route) Sonic walks into Amy’s room to get some old books she asked for, when he stumbles upon a drawer full of love notes, poems even photos with red hearts drawn with marker around his face!! Of course, being the nosy hedgehog he is, he decides to read them all!! What will happen when Amy finds out? WILL she find out? How would Sonic react? What will be the concequences? MWAHAHAHA!” | “Prompt! Or two prompts! PLEASE! ANYTHING! MY SONAMY FIRE HAS BEEN REKINDLEDDDD😍😍” | “can you do a boom prompt about something in the 1920’s? like a detective thing? Sonic as the detective, amy as his client, knuckles and tails as the assistants? (and could you somehow add a hint of sonamy?) Idk thought it would be interesting. I’m sorry if this is weird XD” | “September cold: can you cheer me up? wildcard for sonic headcanons, whatever is on your beautiful mind :) thanks xxx” | “"strong amy” for her birthday? yes please! boom prompt maybe? however you want it…“ | "Can you do a boom sonamy prompt where sonic calls amy beautiful? Like he just says it and she freezes and is like "Wait what?”“ | "boom!sonamy prompt: Amy and sonic just being awkward around eachother, like their hands touch or something and they flip out? Just awkward and embarassing fluff!! Thaaaaank you!” | “Could you do a Sonamy Boom Prompt where Sonic and Amy are in a duo mission when after slightly flirting with each other, Sonics enerbeam goes hay wire! It ends up wrapping around them, forcing them to be quickly pushed together and they accidentally kiss….? (And try to mention somehow that enerbeam is controlled by actions from innermost thoughts or heart, so subconsciously, whether he knew it or not, Sonic wanted to give her a hug.😋) …did that make any sense at all?” | “Boom!Prompt, Knuckles’ backstory, where he use to be really small,and everyone kept calling him weak,then he decided to train himself,to become stronger and bigger.” | “Prompt! :(Modern) Sonic was running around at night when he noticed Amy sitting on a cliff, watching the stars. He gets confused, and nervously walks up to her. Turns out, she okay, and they end up just having a cute little conversation while laying rather close to one another (But not too close, according to Sonic XD), watching the stars! :D OOH! I just thought of something, PUT A SHOOTING STAR IN THERE TOO!X3 (P.S:Just so you know, not all of my prompts are for advice, I LOVE to read them!!:D)” | “Prompt :(Boom) While fighting Eggman, Knuckles gets separated from the team. As he finds his way home, he encounters a cute, young, and loud girl who claims that she’s lost her family. Being the hero he is, he agrees to help her. But, she’s a pest. She keeps setting off traps and gets into in danger, and she won’t shut up! Knuckles get’s irritated and yells at her. As the little girl ran off, he tried not to think about her safety, but, is Knuckles really a tough guy on the inside? Hint: NOPE!” | “Hmmm… Not sure if I want it a sonic and tails or Sonamy headcannon. But it’s where either sonic tries to ask tails about his "funny feelings” for Amy, trying to make sense of it, or just asking plain advise. OR tails finding out and confronting sonic about it (add some humor too? :D)“ | "Boom!Sonamy Headcanons (Cause they popped up in my head lol XD)” | “You may have already answered this, but what kind (if any) Sonamy moments do you think will be in Sonic Boom?” | “More Sonic boom headcannons please?” | “do you have any bonding headcanons for Knuckles and Amy in Boom? :)” | “Do you have any more Boom!Shadow headcannons?” | “Wait, question! For headcanon 49, what is Amy’s backstory?” | “So I heard that Shadow is confirmed to be in the Sonic!boom world. Got any headcannons between him and the gang?” | “Wait, you ship Tails and Sticks, right? I think you’re the one who got me shipping them :’D do you have any more headcanons about them? Because they’re ADORABLE.” | “Can you do a boom!sonamy prompt about sonic and amy raising a child? I don’t think you have done this before, have you?”

And while I was rechecking a few prompts on your blog…boy, I found the gold mine!! But I’m not sure if I already found some of them before and included it on the previous list I sent to you, and there are a few more lying around here that I am not so sure if I already submitted on the previous list…Can you please send the list back to me? Is that even possible?

If so, THANK YOU! ~ <3

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Once again, thank you for this post! But like previously stated with (x) <-- your other list, it’s a little difficult to know which ones I’ve found and which ones I haven’t.

If anyone could let me know if I haven’t reblogged any of these, me and Cutegirlmayra would be very much obliged!

Thank you once more for your contribution in saving many of @cutegirlmayra’s amazing works! Continue to help the cause! We all want to be able to read her stuff in an easier way!

#Idontworkforsega #cutegirlmayra #prompt help #find my prompts!#submission

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