#Summer BootCamp Near Me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

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Subconscious Match Making // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Kenny brings in his niece Y/N and her band to provide a demonstration of the stage presence of a band. More than happy Tarnished Poets become mentors during the process of bootcamp. Charlie’s eye is stuck on Kenny’s niece; Kenny’s so powerful he subconsciously did match making

Warning: Swearing, talk about car accident, angst, and fluff.

Words: 4.6k

A/N: The song used by my fictional band is High Hopes by the Australian band Yours Truly.

Masterlist

Being part of the audition aspect of Julie and the Phantoms was unreal, especially being young with such an opportunity. The timing couldn’t be better with the band stationed stateside for recording; Kenny had presented the offer to mentor during auditions. The capacity as a musician mentor was alien, but you would do anything for the guy you considered an uncle.

Stopping briefly at the bathroom, you encountered one of the options for Julie that Kenny had sent in the PDF file of people auditioning. As you stepped up to wash your hands, you noticed her lips moving along to the song they had been given.

“Are you okay?” You questioned turning to face the teenager no more than fifteen at the most. Her brown eyes colliding with yours unable to hide the nerves, “You’re auditioning for Kenny Ortega’s show, right?”

“Yeah. I’m Madison.” The girl spoke, holding out her hand to shake, “Are you auditioning for Carrie?”

You smiled at her question, “No.”

Julie went to answer before the glance at her watch, startled her barely getting a goodbye out before she was rushing out the door. You went back to drying your hands before heading to the room Kenny had messaged you about. It was a large room with people sitting at tables and four people on stage. All in a circle speaking quietly, you took the opportunity to settle beside Kenny and your three band members.

“Hey Kenny.” You murmured turning to the man, the myth, legend Kenny Ortega himself. The man beamed at you as he had not seen you in months due to touring.

“Y/N! Sweetheart.” Kenny spoke, taking in the differences, the bags under your eyes gone from the last time he had a video call, “You look stunning as usual.”

You chuckled at his compliment, feeling he was right; sleep was definitely better when not on a travelling bus. Late nights now found at the recording studio with the band and less stress on being hounded by fans.

“So, what do you want us to do?” You questioned glancing at the quartet on the stage each keeping their attention on each other, “Who are they?”

Kenny glanced at his colleagues ready for the day to start, “This the first time they will be performing on the stage as the band. They don’t know yet. As being their age, I’d like you to show them the dynamic we’re looking for.”

You nodded along with Lachlan, Brad and Jay. Kenny’s happy smile directed you guys for a second before turning to the stage. Huddling with your bandmates, you started throwing out song choices, one the most challenging things.

“Okay. Before we have you sing Bright, I convinced my niece to join us while they are off touring.” Kenny told the actors gesturing to the band in a huddle unbothered at the lack of listening, “Okay.”

Turning as Kenny’s voice centred towards you, the people on the stage caught sight of you all; Madison’s eyes grew. She adored your music, and not recognizing you in the bathroom, burnt her. The other guys were less familiar with the band other than Owen who knew them through Madison and Savannah.

“This is my niece Y/N along with her band members Lachlan, Brad and Jay. Tarnished Poets this is candidates for the show Charlie, Jeremy, Owen and Madison.” Kenny gestured to the two separate groups who quickly switched.

With a vast amount of experience, the small stage revamped itself with the band’s personal instruments. People held to move the stage drums to replace with Brad’s drums behind the clear plastic with quick succession as the remaining members took their places.

Your dark wash jean jacket tossed to the side of the stage mere seconds before Lachlan’s fingers started the song off with shredding on his baby pink guitar. The room melted away from your mind as the four got lost in the music.

You got the nerve to come and say

That you’re not standing in my way

When we both know

Eyes closed you moved to the fast beats feeling on the top of the world as if nothing would knock you down.

The room was quiet aside from the music enthralling the occupants as this band shocked everyone but Madison and Kenny. This was precisely how Kenny envisioned Julie and the band would be like as the room burst into noise as if it was a concert. The stage was electrifying, and the actors couldn’t sit still with big smiles and bodies moving to the beat.

Well I’ve had high hopes up til now

And I was kinda hoping.

You could be my hero

At the lull, in words, the guitars and the drums wove through the room as you flipped your hair side to side concealing the expression. The music brought a feeling euphoria to you as it always had because nothing made you feel as alive.

You never stayed in one place when you weren’t cupping the microphone singing you jammed with the others. Cleaning removing the mic from the stand you move to face Brad through the clear screen with a grin. A smooth practised twirl you found yourself by the bassist Jay delving into the lyrics once more.

You can’t take it back

With all, I’ve tried

And I know that you can’t shape me

Moving back in fluid motion Lachlan and you switched places across the stage from Jay. Lachlan began his solo ending just as you circled back to your original positions. Everyone had watched Lachlan they missed your microphone being replaced in the stand.

As the song came to an end, you ended the last note bending to the side with the stand, every member leaning over to the floor. The guitar notes faded as the room burst into applause.

“This is what I want the band to be like!” Kenny called moving to the stage you hug you, “I knew I chose the right people. Did you see how they commanded the stage? They used the entirety, exploding with energy.”

Charlie’s jaw was dropped at how great the band was, they transformed the room into a concert, and you were damn good. Owen reached over and gently pushed Charlie’s jaw back up without looking; this move alone gave Kenny insight into the dynamic between the actors.

“Can you all come up here?” You asked the four actors moving aside for them as they stationed themselves you all wandered around, “Naturally you’ve all equally spaced yourselves out. That’s good because you understand you need space to rock out, but it comes with a negative.”

Lachlan stepped forth his accent, bringing the group to surprise, “But don’t stay in the box you’ve created. The stage is yours. You’re a band so interact.”

“Don’t play the music. Become the music you play, Luke doesn’t just love music. It’s in his blood and part of his soul.” You finished squeezing the arm of Charlie, eyes fractionally widening at the solid muscle. Charlie’s eyes glued to your eyes he didn’t notice as you gently pushed the white guitar into his chest.

“Show us Luke’s bond with music.” You softly spoke, backing away from the Canadian male turning on your heel to sit with Kenny again.

Your eyes couldn’t help but return to the male with the cut off shirt, and his hair pushed up out of his face. Suspenders connected to his jeans rolled above the brown boots. Your lips parted as Madison introduced the group.

“Hi, we’re Julie and the Phantoms I hope you enjoy.” The girl spoke before the group transformed in front of the group. They were no longer actors hoping for roles, but they became the characters they desired to play.

Charlie melted into the character of Luke with ease; it was beautiful and poetic. What they didn’t know was that they were, in fact, the band.

As the music died down, you relaxed into the chair as Kenny cheered with his hands high in the air with the entire room as they bowed. Kenny’s teasing grin glanced back as he approached the stairs to the huddled youth.

“I don’t know. Can we?” Kenny spoke to the audience amused with the anticipation of the stage.

“Do it!” You called out with a grin along with the rest of Tarnished Poets keeping your eyes on Charlie. His energy intrigued you incredibly.

“Yeah you are our band.” Kenny announced changing the lives of the official cast forever. The quartet exclaimed in response clutching each other close as if they had been friends for years instead of months.

Charlie’s grin fluttered your heart as you leaned back, watching the excited group knowing you would be watching the show when it came out.

The summer breeze was serene in the quiet area outside of the beautiful city of Vancouver, Canada where filming had commenced. Scheduling was perfect with the members of Tarnished Poets breaking off for the break. Lachlan returned to his family in Perth, Australia while Brad and Jay decided on a road trip in their home state.

You had accompanied Kenny to Canada for the first part of filming moving into a small house near the set. The home quickly became the hub of the cast with the close proximation to filming, you had even given Charlie the spare key. You two incredibly close.

“So, this is where you disappear to.” The teasing voice came from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you met the gaze of Charlie’s hazel eyes.

He moved through the meadow to the tree you found shade under with your guitar nearby. You always had a feeling the adventurous guy would find the trail to the meadow you frequented. His forest green shirt bringing out the green of his eyes that you adored. As if you were a character in a Tumblr story, you fell for him and wondered if he felt the same.

“Sometimes I need to leave the city. I spent too much time in them.” You spoke, closing the notebook of the song you were working on. It wasn’t one you planned on using for Tarnished Poets, but instead something you hesitated on showing Kenny.

“I didn’t know you could play the guitar.” Charlie softly spoke gently, stroked the neck of the well-used guitar. Passed down from your mom who loved playing at cafes in her teens and into her early 20s.

“Probably because we perform with electric more often. Plus, I like doing vocals.” You spoke shuffling to face him, “So it took you over a month to find this meadow.”

Charlie chuckled glancing at the notebook with interest. He always wanted to know more about you from the moment he saw you.

“What are you working on?” He questioned slowly grasping the notebook in his hand. Usually, you would be shy and letting someone see an unfinished song. Still, something about Charlie never made you feel nervous.

“A song about regret over hurting someone.” You softly replied, moving to bring your knees into your chest thinking about one of the final devasting moments, “I’m kinda the female counterpart of Luke. I grew up in a small town where people had reliable jobs. I always loved music. My mom taught me to play the guitar.”

“Yeah?” Charlie smiled, wondering what a kid version of you would have been like. Your eyes raised to meet his.

“Her dream was to make a living out of her music, and she got rejected. A lot. I think she lost a part of herself when she gave up for a secure, stable job as an accountant. Didn’t mean she didn’t still love to play, so she taught me how to play as a hobby.”

“But you loved it like she did.” Charlie breathed picking up where the story would be going so he gently took your hand in his; something not unusual with you two.

“I posted videos of covers on YouTube and Lachlan saw it. He had moved to America to make his dream and closely, our band came together. We did some gigs around my hometown even making the long trips to the city.” You reminisced on the times where you were an underground band with a small following. Things went sour when you hit more immense success, “We had the opportunity for our music, and at eighteen we took it.”

Slowly you leaned into the body of Charlie relaxing as his arms encompassed you in a feeling of safety and warmth. His fingers tangling in your hair as he focused on your story.

“My parents found out, and Mom just exploded. We both said cruel things, and I left that night. We played gigs constantly, so I always pushed back, making up with her. Six months into the move, she got into a car accident.” You sighed nestling further into Charlie, “I wrote that song, but I couldn’t even finish it, but with Luke’s storyline, I think it would be perfect. I’m polishing it up to present to Kenny.”

“What’s it called?” He inquired, smiling as you shifted to lean your back against his chest to cradle the guitar in your lap.

“Unsaid Emily. My mom’s name is Emily.” Your words nearly buried under the soft notes from the guitar. Your lips opened to sing, but you didn’t have to. Charlie started it.

The emotion was raw in the air as the power in his voice brought you to tears, unable to do more than strum the guitar and harmonizing at one point. It was like Unsaid Emily was made for Charlie to sing. At that moment you knew, this was the song Luke needed to do for his mom in the show; however, it could be incorporated.

Overcome with an emotion you pushed to your knees to cup his cheeks as he trailed off the last word. The guitar keeping you from pressing your chests together to kiss you poured your feelings in the kiss. A kiss he returned with gusto.

“Whoa.” Charlie breathed, keeping his forehead connected to yours smiling as your eyelashes tickled his cheeks. Calloused fingers set the guitar aside as he tugged you into his chest as his lips drew closer.

Your lips parted as a tingle overtook your whole body as he lips caressed yours soft lightly you thought you imagined it. His mouth claimed yours in what might be the most passionate one you’ve ever had. Pulling away, you became aware your hands had flipped under his shirt with knowing.

“Thank you.” You spoke softly looking up through your eyelashes at the guy the grew as important as the band.

Charlie’s cheeks painted a soft pink set off by the hypnotizing brown of his hazel gaze as if you were his whole world. His eyes scanning all your features from the small scar in your hairline thanks to a table edge at six years old.

“For what?”

“Being you.” You replied tugging fists full of the green shirt to silence her thoughts with another fervent meeting. Yours arm coming to encircle his neck as his hands copied the move on your waist. Sitting on knees time slowed in the toe-curling kiss, he pulled away once more.

“I could kiss you forever, and it still wouldn’t be long enough.” Charlie spoke, keeping his eyes closed as his fingers pinched his skin. This was what he dreamed of, being able to hold you more than a few seconds of an embrace.

“How is this going to work? My band goes on tour when you’re at the end of filming.” You questioned nestling into his arms again. The future was scary when you both were incredibly busy with the upcoming months.

“I’ll fly over for a few weeks. See you in action.” He chuckled, pushing you away to stand up, “How about we start with dinner first?”

It seemed the universe took pity on a young couple when Charlie took you home to his family to meet. His parents and siblings being the only ones aware of the relationship. Tour came and went with Charlie, using the time before promoting JATP, attended before you flew back to Canada with him.

Being with Charlie was like breathing, necessary and beautiful. You got along with his family as he did with yours. It was remarkable how interconnected you became together in the months committed to the relationship.

“Hey.” Charlie spoke, kissing your cheek in your private home you were renting in the country of Canada. When whispers of the pandemic came around, you had flown from the house you rented in LA with a friend to home.

Charlie had had the same idea to return home to his parents’ home while you settled into a house further away from other people. Charlie walked the distance to your place, and when lockdown came into effect, the decision was, he would stay with you.

“Well hello.” You cheekily responded, resting your fingers on the sleep flush of his cheeks as the glazed look faded.

Charlie straight out of sleep was by far your favourite version of him with the genuine and raw unguarded emotions he displayed. In the nine months together, you had fallen for him swifter than Swiper from Dora could take items. Completely reciprocated on his side.

“You look happy.” Charlie murmured tracing the path from your temple to the corner of your mouth. The boy with messy hair, he had started growing it out after Julie, and the Phantoms wrapped.

“I am.” You softly spoke, shifting closer to him, “I’ve never been happier than I am tucked away from the world in your arms.”

The flush of Charlie’s cheek no longer came from the nap, but from the attention, you placed on the actor. He could feel the love radiating from your heart just by the look in your eyes.

“I’m going to be incredibly cheesy and reply that I am holding my world in my arms.” He expressed leaning over to press his lips against your forehead raptured by the honour he had at loving you.

“The next few days will be hectic.” You articulated running your hands through the thick brown hair focusing solely on his eyes—the building excitement budding within the actor.

Charlie’s lips parted to reply when his phone vibrated on the side table, “One moment. It’s Owen.”

You shifted out of the camera view per the mutual decision to keep the relationship under wraps for the time being. You absolutely knew the show would be a hit and thousand, make that hundreds of thousands, of people, would crush on the character. By keeping the relationship quiet, it would increase the fanbase because some people honestly only care about looks.

“Hey Buddy!” Charlie beamed at his fellow quarantine hair buddy with over 3,000 kilometres between each other.

“Eh! Charlie!” Owen greeted just as excited at his best friend delving into a story of the recent lego build his mom had made.

“So, the show debuts in a few days. How do you feel about it? I’m excited but also nervous. First leading role.”

“I think people will relate to the show. I mean the music is amazing, and the acting wasn’t too shabby.” Owen replied just about to open his mouth when he slammed it shut. His blue eyes narrowed together, picking up on the odd background. He had to lean closer to his phone, “Either I’m suddenly eighty years old or your definitely not at home.”

“W-what?” Charlie scoffed eyes flicking to the surroundings completely forgetting he was in his girlfriend’s home instead of his parents, “I’m at home.”

“No! We’ve chatted so many times I could draw your family’s house blueprint with my eyes closed. That is a bedroom and it ain’t in the Gillespie home.”

Charlie moaned hanging his head, “C’mon buddy. I’m at home.”

“Charles Gillespie, you have sex hair.” Owen deadpanned unamused at the obvious and quite literally horrible dishonesty from the Canadian male. Charlie’s cheeks puffed as he blew air out of his mouth and taking the ‘L’ in the situation.

“One moment.” He spoke, putting his friend on mute and setting the phone down to create a black screen. The entire short conversation you had delved back into the songbook always on your person, “Babe, Owen won’t let it go.”

“Tell him.” You replied gazing over the rim of your glasses with a smirk scarcely visible to your partner. Your full attention returned to scribbling in the book while Charlie inhaled sharply; psyching himself up.

“Okay. I’m seeing someone.” Charlie admitted sending the blonde into screaming having been suspicious. Jeremy’s wife, then girlfriend, had tried setting Charlie up with countless refusals.

“Who is it?”

“Don’t get upset. I’m dating Y/N-“

“-like Y/N from Tarnished Poets? The musician from Bootcamp that completely made us look like toddlers?” Owen demanded gasping as Charlie panned the FaceTime to the girl under the blankets, “Holy shit!”

“I don’t know how I managed to get her date, but it’s the happiest I’ve been.”

“Hey Owen.” You acknowledged the blonde drummer with a shy smile and kind eyes that he had found numerous times on set. He looked up to you along with loving the suggestions and help Brad gave him on the drums.

“How long have you been together?” Wondered Owen with the cute little smile you found endearing. You felt happy that it was Owen that had pieced it together.

“Going on ten months now-“

“-and I’m only just now finding out!” Owen exploded jittery in his seat at the pairing he had wanted to get together since the unbreakable gaze multiple times on set, “God I love the world!”

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? We want to keep this private; you wouldn’t have been told had you not figured it out.”

“More like hounded it.” Charlie muttered under his breath, slinking his arm around your shoulders as his right hand held his phone. You slapped the bare chest of the love of your life heart fluttering at the solid muscle as it always did, “We need to get together as soon as we can.”

“I’m so done. There’s nothing to do in Oklahoma man. So that photo from Tarnished Poet’s European tour was real?” Owen recalled the picture that had crossed his Instagram For You page a few months prior.

“Yeah. I flew over for two weeks having the best time watching my girl kill it on the stage, they destroyed the stage each performance.” Charlie gushed unable to hold himself from frantically telling Owen about you unfazed by your presence.

“Why am I so single!” Owen groaned flinging his head back, “Is it the whole living with my parents at twenty? Am I not established enough?”

“Nah, you’re just too boring.” Charlie quipped thankful he was out of reach of the taller boy earning a laugh from his side. Owen snickered with a quick retort to his fellow actor.

“Well I’d stay and chat, but my phone is at 10%, and I’m too lazy to find my charger.” Owen started waving as he hung up on Charlie without waiting for a reply.

Your lips twitched that the profanity that fell from your boyfriend’s lips at the abrupt end of the call. Owen was like that in the end, living in the moment to an extent. Charlie turned on his side to tug you into his side, uncaring of your task.

“You’ve slept enough.” You chortled at the clinging boyfriend you had.

“Do you think we should tell the cast? Owen will be bursting with the secret if we don’t” queried Charlie pining his gaze on the steadily flushing cheeks with a fondness, “They wouldn’t tell. I really want to brag about my hot rocker girlfriend.”

Your hand dropped the notebook to play with his hair, “We’ll just keep the relationship to close friends and our family.”

Too bad you didn’t place a bet with Charlie because two hours after the convo with Owen your phones harmonized together. Your iPhone showing Carolynn’s cute selfie while Jeremy called Charlie.

“You’re dating Charlie!” Carolynn practically screamed into the phone, completely excited, “Owen told Jeremy, and I have wife privileges.”

“Dude! How long?”

“Near ten months.”

“Damn, we missed so many chances for double dates, but hey now I know who you kept sneaking into the apartment. Not like the smug smirk, the next day and her stiff walking didn’t speak for itself.”

“Jer!” Charlie called out mortified yet also proud that you couldn’t walk the night after. Your reaction was to Jer’s blunt statement was to bury your face in Charlie’s neck, concealing the deep blush.

The two couples conversed a couple more hours before ending in the evening for food. The same routine would continue for the next few days with alternating between the cast. The day Julie and the Phantoms dropped on Netflix, you binged it. The acting was insane and the storyline paired with the songs? Beautiful.

The issue came when Episode 8 came with the tsunami of emotions as Luke shattered himself singing Unsaid Emily.

“Oh my god.” You sniffled shakily cupping your damp cheeks in your hands, “It hurts. He’s having this cathartic release while agonizing himself. His parents can hear him singing the song.”

Charlie tugged you into his side equally moved from the cinematic beauty Kenny’s team had done. Unsaid Emily was the most emotional piece of music you had ever written in your career; Kenny had fallen in love with it. His genius mind recreating the scene of Luke singing and changing his mother’s name to Emily.

“Sh.” Charlie soothed in your ear, rubbing circles on the small of your back crying along with you, “It’s just a show.”

“Where in the hell did you pull off that level of regretful sadness? Who hurt you.” You replied, breathing shakily as the scene. Your eyes still tearing up as Emily finally got a little peace back after losing her son twenty-five years in the past.

“I took inspiration from your story, and I watched a video with a bunch of people describing the last moment with their loved ones. Add some sad music and missing my family…well this happened.” Charlie explained gently pushing your hands away to wipe your damp cheeks in a soft smile, “You created the song. It’s your work that moved so many people.”

“I provided words and a melody. You provided emotion and bridge between Luke and the audience.” You retorted leaning closer to the Canadian boy so very much in love with him.

Charlie pressed another kiss to your forehead as you tried to pull yourself together but watching Luke and Julie try to touch? That shattered you even more. Luke deserved a hug, and he can’t even get one from his crush? Extremely tragic.

“Maybe we should write a song together.” Charlie suggested quirking up one eyebrow as his green eyes spoke volumes on his feelings no words could ever match. His long fingers playing your digits.

“I have a better idea.” You grinned, “I know season two hasn’t been confirmed but what if Jer, Owen, you and Mads write songs for the band? Give an authentic aspect to your characters and band. Do it together, in pairs and alone.” You breathed straddling him to ensure you had his full attention at the suggestion that lit a light in his eyes.

“You must be on to something.” Charlie acknowledged removing his phone from his pocket to use the group chat. In a few minutes, he had exciting suggestions for the song ideas, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You replied, sitting back as he continued planning both via the group chat and FaceTime with the others.

Kenny was a genius both on screen and at matchmaking. As evidenced with Charlie and Kenny’s niece.

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astarryon · 4 years ago

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Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart.

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp.

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself.

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #tfatws #catws #marvel #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #au #series #angst #hurt #comfort #1940s bucky

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sammy-gvf · 4 years ago

Text

Buckys Pin

- IMAGINE/ONESHOT-

40s!Bucky Barnes x reader

Age restriction : None

Warnings : None, just pure fluff

Preface -

Bucky’s last night at home.

The year was 1943.

Brooklyn was beautiful this time of year. There was so much to do in town on the warm summer nights, it was like a dream. Tonight though, I am seeing my sweetheart Bucky and we are going to the Stark Expo, something about the future of technology. I could care less about the contents of the expo though, it’s my last night with James.

Sergeant James Barnes is set to leave for the Army, the 107th. Shipping out to England tomorrow.

It was hard enough to see him go for bootcamp, now who knows the next time he will be home.

Bucky has been my man for a long time, even since before the whole draft thing. He is such a beautiful person, a gentleman. We have gone on countless dates and have had many beautiful moments together, I just hope that he is safe when he is away. I can't bear to lose him. Ever.

I will write to him every day. Every. Single. Day.

It's almost 6 oclock, I should probably get ready.

I slip on a beautiful but comfortable dress. It's a blue floral knee length dress that puffs out a little down near the waist with a little plunge in the front. I just know my father is going to make a fuss.

It's my last night with Bucky, I might as well dress a little special for him.

I finish up my hair letting the curls fall down to my shoulder, fluffing them up with a comb and the final touch, hairspray of course. Perfume and a little powder with a red lip should finish the look.

I suddenly hear a knock at the door.

“ Dang it, what time is it “ You start to rush around to find a clock around you.

You check the time. 6:00 on the dot

“ Bucky is always on time, not a bad quality” You say to yourself chuckling, grabbing your things and putting your shoes on.

You grab your blue cardigan and clutch, heading out your bedroom door and into the living room. You get to the living room, looking to the front door where your father and Bucky are standing there talking. Your parents and Bucky have always gotten along for the past 5 years of your dating Bucky. Never a problem, only when he would bring you home late from dancing, which was fine with you. Dancing was your guy's thing, the swaying and the subtle touch of Bucky's hands around your waist just made you feel like you were on cloud nine. Above the clouds, never wanting to come down. Slow dancing was intimate with him, you could smell his cologne and feel his freshly shaved face against your cool skin. You always closed your eyes and wondered how you got so lucky with such a down to earth man. Your hands touch and you lay your head on his shoulder, relaxing against him as you sway along to the beat of the music. His hand in yours, caressing the skin of your hand with his thumbs. He is yours.

Bucky and your dad turn around and turn towards you, both of their faces lighting up with glowing smiles. Bucky has a bouquet of flowers in hand, special for you. Your father knew it was the last time you were seeing Bucky for a long time, so he let a hug and kiss slide in front of him. He knew his little girl's heart was going to be missing a piece of her heart the minute Bucky drops you off at home after your date.

“ You look absolutely stunning doll” Bucky says to you as you give him a wide toothed smile, he always knew how to make you feel like you outshined the other girls

He hands you the bouquet of red roses and you quickly give it to your father to put in a vase.

“ Oh! I forgot to get something for you, hold on just a minute Buck” You say as you shove your clutch into Bucky's hand to hold real quick, him letting out a chuckle and you rush off to your room.

You were going to give him a necklace you had made for him. A sort of parting gift.

It’s a beautiful gold link chain necklace with a circle locket with a picture of you on one side of the locket and on the other side, a picture of you and Bucky.

Something to help him keep you close to him, even during combat. So he knows you are always with him no matter what. No matter where he goes.

You rush out of your room to see your father and Bucky talking on the couch, roses in a vase on the table in front of them making the room smell beautifully. Bucky rises and shakes your fathers hand and you give your father a kiss on the cheek. You take Bucky's hand and he guides you to his car, he opens the door for you and helps you get in.

“ Doll, we are going to have a wonderful night together, I don't want to see you upset.” Bucky says turning towards you while he buckles himself in.

You start to tear up a little bit knowing that this is it. You just have to hold it in.

“ It just feels surreal, you know?” You say looking at him. He has the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen. Everytime he looks at you, his eyes sparkle and you just get lost in them.

“ I know, love.” He says as he raises his hand to caress your cheek where one single tear is finding its way down your skin. The skin of his hand is soft but there's always going to be a certain roughness to them.

You raise your hand to his and hold it as he holds his hand to your face, still holding your slender cheek. Sharing a moment, you just sit there in silence.

He pulls his hand away gently from your face and puts the keys in the ignition.

“We are going to be late, we should get going baby” He says, giving a sort of smirk to you which instantly makes you smile.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You say as you put your seatbelt on, the car starts up and you hear a faint song on the radio, it's quite low.

You guys arrive shortly after being on the road for about 15 minutes, you get out and the sight in front of you makes your eyes glow.

It really is something like you have never seen before. Bright lights and extravagant displays in cases around you as you walk around together, marveling at the stuff on display. Bucky is especially interested in the flying car that Howard Stark is working on.

You continue to walk around with Bucky, looking up at him as you walk together to get glimpses of his beautiful side profile. His hair is hidden by his hat, he has the most beautiful soft brown locks that are always combed to the side to look sleek. His cheekbones are prominent and his pink lips are perfectly soft and plump on their own, his cupids bow is what ties his lips together.

As the night starts to end, you start to realize that you need to give him what you brought with you.

You are sitting on a bench together, people watching like you guys usually do when you go for a picnic with him in the park.

“Did you have fun?” You ask him, he grabs your hand and holds it in his with both hands wrapped around your small hands.

“ Of course,I did. This is how I wanted to spend my last night, with you by my side experiencing what I have left of civilian life.” He says smiling at you, he suddenly gets closer to you holding your hand with his right hand and he slips his left over your shoulder, pulling you close to him.

You lay your head on his shoulder, taking in the world around you. The smells of candy floss and popcorn fill the air, intoxicating your lungs. You slowly put your hand in your pocket as you watch bucky, who is still staring out into the distance admiring the view in front of him.

“I want to give you something, love.” You say, he turns to you and has a smug expression on his face. You hand him the box and you wait to see his reaction.

“ Go ahead, open it” You say nervously.

Bucky slowly opens the box and takes the chain out of it. He holds it up looking at it with admiration, as if he has never received something so beautiful like this.

“Open it, Buck” You say. He opens the locket and starts to get teary eyed, knowing that you put a lot of thought into your gift. He turns to you and gives you a gentle kiss and then stands you both up. He towers over you. He takes your hands and gives you the locket, he turns around and motions you to put it on him. You do with no hesitation. He turns around to face you, taking your hands and looking into your eyes.

“Doll, I love you with every fiber of my being. I will wear this every single day and touch it every time I need a reminder of my girl. You are so perfect and more than I have ever deserved.”

Bucky says, he brings you closer and brings you in for a hug that turns into a bit of a slow dance, the music in the background adding an ambiance.

After the song has ended, you pull away from each other and walk to the car hand in hand, reveling in the moments you have left together.

The ride home is silent but there's a mutual understanding in the air. Not of anger or sadness but of enjoying eachothers company, just being within distance of each other brings a feeling of comfort.

You reach the door of your house and you two just stand there together holding hands. Your father said to be home by 10, it's 9:50. You have only 10 minutes left with your lover boy.

“Buck, I-” You start to say but you are cut off by a soft kiss, his hands are caressing your cheeks and your hands wander up to hold his jaw. You feel as though the kiss lasted forever but it only lasted about a minute, you just wanted it to last a lifetime. He backs up from your face slowly, taking in your soft features.

You start to get visibly upset but you're trying to hold it in for him.

“ Babydoll, I just want you to remember all the good times we have had. Remember when we made Steve ride the Cyclone at Coney Island and he threw up everywhere? Or when we first met? God, I thought I saw an angel in those high school hallways. Steve had to hit me to come back to earth. I had to muster up the courage to come ask you on a date. It was the best decision I have and ever will make. You looked ravishing in the dress you chose to wear when we went dancing for the first time, I almost lost my cool. Not in a bad way, just wanted to pick you up and twirl you around and kiss ya. I’m not leaving forever, doll. I will be back for you, love.” He says holding your face.

You chuckle through the tears that are falling down your cheeks, taking a moment to calm down, you step away for a second to look at your watch on your wrist. The clock strikes 10 o’clock.

You turn around suddenly and give Bucky the tightest hug you could muster up, squeezing him with all your might, never wanting to let up. You pull back and give him a passionate kiss, hoping it will last forever but you start seeing movement in your house. You pull away from Bucky and touch his chest where his pins are. You sneakily take a pin that's on his collar and he just takes a minute to chuckle and let you think you did something sneaky.

The door opens revealing your father and mother.

Bucky turns to you, giving you one final kiss on the cheek.

“Goodnight,doll. Sleep well. I love you. See you soon.” He says to you. All you can do is mouth back “ I love you more, goodbye” to him. You feel like if you mutter one word, you'll completely lose it.

You slowly turn to face your parents and you hear him scream out

“ It's not goodbye doll, it’s see you later.” He says. You stand there with your parents as you watch him drive off.

You hold the pin to your heart, keeping it close always.

—————————————————————————————————————

WOW. This was the longest by far. I just hope that you all like the fluff that bucky has to offer!

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in my writing!! I should be making a masterlist soon.

AS ALWAYS, dont forget to like/reblog/comment !

Tags - @buckysdolls , @local-spacegirl , @ladyfallonavenger , @nerdy-depressed , @youcancallmeishita , @not-another-fangirl

#jamesbuchananbarnes #bucky barnes #mcu #steve rogers #captain america #40s!bucky #bucky fluff #bucky x y/n #marvel studios #marvel

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storytellingfandom · 4 years ago

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Calculators and Key Changes

Summary: Kazami blew into Republic City High like a hurricane. The students loved her, she changed how the arts program was run and rose it out of the ashes. She got along with most all of the staff, that is, except for one.

Lin would give her props for saving the arts program, but that’s as far as it went. The failed opera singer was obviously looking for what she’d see as an “easy” gig to get her back in the papers and then abandon her students. And she wasn’t going to offer praise for a one trick pony.

But when things shift, when there’s an understanding, can their students push the two titans of the school together to find their own happiness?

A/N: This is a completely self indulgent high school AU. I tried to write it in second person POV, but it didn’t flow well so it is third person with it being Lin x OC. Many props go to @kuvirasbrat for helping me get this shaped though <3

Word count: 1976

Pulling into the school’s parking lot, the sun had just started to rise and the soft glow was caught in the windows in the early autumn light. Bright blue eyes took in the colors as she pulled into the school parking lot and settled her car into her normal parking spot near her choir room. Turning the car off, Kazumi Ikeda sat in her car for a moment and sipped her vanilla chai latte a little bit longer.

She loved her early morning ensemble kids. The ones who were willing to get up early, go through music reading bootcamp, and audition for this class. The ones who not only enjoyed the music, but felt it through their being.

With a sigh, she opened her car door and grabbed her bag. Setting her latte on top of the car for a second, she reached in and grabbed a second bag with her materials for her music theory and history classes later on that day. Shouldering it, she grabbed her latte again before making her way into the school.

The start of a new year was always fun, at least it was after the first week. Waving to some of the other teachers that had sold their souls for early morning advanced groups, she slipped into her classroom and into her office. Switching the light on, she dropped her bag full of her materials on her desk and her purse into a drawer. Bringing her keys with her, she tossed them on the piano as she went over the music they’d be starting today.

At least these copies didn’t have fucking equations hiding what key it was in.

When Kazumi had started at Republic City High after a successful career in opera, the one person in the school that seemed to want to see her fall on her face was Lin Beifong. When she’d started, the woman made damn sure she knew what she thought of her. Barbs were sniped on both sides from that day forward. Barbs turned into more though when Lin made it almost impossible for some of her students to leave for competitions that they were needed on.

And she wasn’t about to let that go by unnoticed.

Finding out Lin liked to be in school just as early as she did, she kept her doors opened for practice, pressing keys harder than they needed to be so that the piano music would disturb the woman in whatever she was doing.

Lin retaliated in stealing things she needed for her other class. The projector was never there when she needed, she never got to show movies unless it was on the older tvs.

Kazumi didn’t take equipment, she understood what Lin’s job was and what was needed, instead she gathered the help of her students. Band kids offering their drum lines for a song that just had to have them. Sopranos doing what they did best and rang out louder than they needed to.

The next time she’d changed her music for her students, she found her music coded in math equations which meant she had to solve them in order to figure out the key signature. Which meant going in search of a different math teacher to help her solve it properly since of course Beifong was a genius in overly complicated mathematics.

Two years had passed and by now it was school tradition. You either sided with Beifong or Ikeda. Students offered ways for the women to get back at each other. Competitive sides fought over top marks in it. Anything from fundraisers, pep rallies, games, it all became a competition for which teacher would have the top group or would bring out the most from them.

This year though, Kazumi found herself over the idea of this silly thing. Over the summer, she’d lost a dear friend in a terrible accident and the competition suddenly seemed so trivial.

She doubted Lin would cooperate but maybe she could at least pull some of the stick that seemed to be shoved up the other’s arse out.

Shaking her head, Kazumi made sure the side braid she’d fashioned that morning was still in place before going to open the door to her classroom. Smiling when she saw Asami standing outside the door, she motioned in the young woman before setting the door hold in place.

“Good morning, Miss Sato. Did you have a good weekend?” Kazumi asked, following her back into the room.

“Yeah, I mostly got to work with the new engineering teacher on an after school group that will start up hopefully this week.” Asami answered, setting her bag near the risers before moving to grab her music folder.

“That’s great, Asami! You’ve been working on that for about six months haven’t you?” Kazumi asked, moving to sit at the piano to plunk out a tune.

“Yeah, I’m really hoping that others will be interested so that the school let’s it stay.” Asami answered walking over to the piano.

“Well if I can do anything let me know.” Kazumi answered, reaching for her coffee with one hand to sip on.

As the other kids started to file in, she greeted each one in kind. For the ones that were returning, she knew details of their lives. Their siblings, relationship with parents, their hopes and aspirations, little things as well like their favorite shows or what they were up to outside of school.

It was why the kids always seemed to connect to her.

“Ms. Ikeda?” One of the kids called out, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Huh? Oh! Sorry guys, let’s get started.” Kazumi announced starting into the familiar tunes of their warm ups. One blue eye caught the open door though and she paused. An olive branch. “Bolin, will you shut the door for me, please?”

Eyes went wide at the request but the boy stumbled over himself to pull the door closed. Poking his head out as he did so, he offered Beifong a wave before pulling the doors closed and shutting in the music.

An eyebrow went up seeing Bolin pulling the door shut. That was new. Normally Kazumi made it a point to leave the door open. Leave it so that the voices of their shared students filled the hallways. Way too damn early if you asked her. Especially the sopranos.

She was sure her forehead had become permanently imprinted with things such as her stapler or paper clips from the times she’d beat her head into her desk at the incessant noise.

But now the hallways were quiet. The voices were muffled, not flowing through, leaving the halls quiet and stagnant. The rest of the student population wouldn’t be here for another hour or so yet, and now all of a sudden, Lin found herself almost missing the sound of music in the hallways.

Not that she’d ever tell her that.

Draping her jacket over the back of her chair, Lin shook out the silk black blouse, making sure the cuffs were setting properly on her wrists. The charcoal grey slacks coming to a tapered cuff just above her ankles to reveal the small heel she wore. Steel grey hair pulled back into a bun, and makeup light and never more than needed.

Precise, angled, and too put together.

Reaching her her coffee, Lin sipped it quietly. Bitter in her mouth, the dark liquid was the opposite of what the choir director drank. Black, with only minimal sugar allowed in. Maybe she’d been a little harsh on the other woman. She’d been an accomplished opera singer from what she’d heard, something happened though and now here she was teaching. It felt like the story where she’d gotten a bad review and tucked tail to run.

Whatever the case, maybe the closed choir room door was a peace offering of some kind, and while Lin highly doubted they’d be friends, being civil did have certain appeals.

*********

Lunch time in high school was always a fascinating set of traditions. Friend circles grew, they shrunk, they included people Kazumi would never expect. They were fascinating. However, they were only as fascinating as that when she didn’t forget her granola bar sitting on her dining room table. Like she had that morning. Her lunch wasn’t for another couple of hours. This was fine.

Wandering between the tables, she waved at those that called out their greeting and paused when she heard others call her over for questions.

“Hey, Ms. Ikeda?” A student called out to her.

“Hey Ayama, what’s up?” Kazumi asked, walking over to her table.

“You studied literature for a while, right? I’m taking Mr. Kogarashi’s history of religion class and this text is so....empty of anything that I can’t figure it out.” Ayama answered, looking up hopefully.

“Ahh, I’ve heard rumors of his class. He does seem like one to assign those. Here, let me see the passage.” Kazumi answered and reached for the text. Tenzin really did pick the worst things for kids to read for class, no wonder the kids skipped.

It was perched on one of the tables going over a reading section with one of their students that Lin found her. Part of her dark brown hair in a side braid leaving the rest to fall around her shoulders. Elbows resting on her knees, the sun catching her toffee colored skin and showed off the warm undertones, catching the blue of her eyes that were lost in the book. While she wore tailored jeans and the sleeveless linen blouse that was tucked under a deep red cardigan jacket.

Wait, since when did she notice these things?

Shaking her head, she walked over to her normal spot, listening to Kazumi point out different imagery points and where she could connect them to the historic points that Tenzin deemed more important than others. A gentle hand on the students shoulders, and she was easing herself off the table.

Heeled boots guided Kazumi over to Lin, offering her a tentative smile as she came to stand with her. “Lin.”

“Kazumi.”

“You hear about the updates for the library?”

“Yeah, they have a new section for practical mathematics. Maybe the kids will see it’s used everyday.” Lin shrugged, her arms folded across her chest. Looking over, she noticed that the other woman didn’t have the normal granola bar that she’d eat during this time. “Don’t you usually have a bar or something?”

“Huh? Oh. Normally yes, but it’s currently making use of itself on my dining room table.” Kazumi shrugged, eyes straying over to the normal trouble makers. “I’ll be fine though.”

“You have the later lunch.” Lin pointed out, raising her brow. “You’ll be miserable by then.”

“I’ll be fine. Really.” Kazumi answered, confused as to why Lin seemed to make such a big deal out of it when they were barely speaking.

Sighing, Lin broke her granola bar in half and handed one side of it to Kazumi. “Here. I’ll never hear the end of it if I saw you before you pass out from low blood sugar.”

Eyeing the other woman, seafoam blue eyes looked on the other for a long moment before she took it from her. “Thanks.”

*******

The moment hadn’t gone unnoticed by the students who watched with large eyes as Lin passed the choir director part of her granola bar. Nor had the fact they’d been standing and having a civil conversation for more than ten seconds.

“Do you think…”

“I don’t know. She never shares food like that!”

“Are they still talking?”

“It looks like it.”

“Did Ikeda just smile at Beifong?!”

“She definitely did.”

“You know what this means?

“Beikeda finally sails?”

“Definitely. Asami, you get the coffees tomorrow?”

“On it.”

“Gotta start small. But we can do this guys. Let’s pay them back for everything they do.”

#lin beifong #lin beifong x oc #lin beifong/oc #lok fanfiction #fanfiction #legend of korra

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flagshipmarketing · 2 years ago

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How to Become an Entrepreneur in High School?

Planning to get started as an entrepreneur in high school? You are at the right place at the right time. Flagship.club is an online business platform for the rising studentpreneurs in California where kids can turn their ideas and passion into a profitable business venture. Our club is the marketplace for the kidpreneurs where kids learn barrier-breaking solutions through practical entrepreneurial courses. Don't think much if your kid also wants to learn new-age technology and digital marketing to develop a business early in life. These guys are organizing the Summer Boot Camp in California to teach marketing and entrepreneurship to students between 10-18 years of age.

#Summer BootCamp Near Me #Entrepreneurship Course #Entrepreneurship skill development #Bootcamp Entrepreneurship #Student entrepreneurship Program

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fundielicious-simblr · 4 years ago

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💕 Love Day Love Story Series 💕

Francisco & Zoe

How did you meet?

[F] “I grew up in a conservative, military household with my father enlisting before he married my mother, so my brother and I were born into the lifestyle. Because we moved every few years, it was easier for my mother to homeschool us so that our education wasn’t disturbed by the constant change in schooling systems and curriculums. Both of my parents are people of faith, so wherever we moved we’d always find a church to go to that was in line with our beliefs, and my mother made it a point for our homeschooling curriculum to be religious based rather than secular based so that we got the best education possible. When I was in highschool we moved to Strangerville permanently for my father’s work, he was promoted and therefore would be working at headquarters with other high ranking officers - this made it easier for me to make up my mind on whether I wanted to enlist because I’d been going to summer camp style trainings in Strangerville that helped me realise my want to serve, so I enlisted right out of highschool. After bootcamp, my first orders were in Strangerville so I was able to live at home with my parents for the first few years and when it came time for re-enlistment, I ended up getting deployed out to a base that sits just outside Newcrest for a short assignment. Once I’d found a place to stay in Newcrest (my rank meant I could live off base) I set about finding a church to attend. I'd heard great things from Newcrest Baptist from others in previous churches we attended so I thought I’d give it a go. That first service when the choir was singing, the lead singer caught my eye - my mother had started to badger me about starting to settle down “while I was still young” so I guess the thought was constantly lingering in the back of my head. After the service is when I learnt that Zoe was the lead singer for the service, she came up to me and introduced herself along with some of her cousins after she heard I was new to the area and didn’t know anybody. They essentially formed a welcoming committee and spent their time making sure that every day off I had was full of fellowship and fun; This also helped me to get to know Zoe more, she was slightly older than some of the other girls there and I admired her personality - I eventually realised that I wanted to take the relationship further than friendship, but first I wanted her to meet my family.

That chance came when her cousin Brittany had this fundraiser event in Windenburg, we found out that we had friends in common in the Dahlmanns - my father was friendly with Warren and supported his campaign whenever he could, and Zoe’s cousin was dating Colton (they even got engaged that same night) The fundraiser was great because our families got to meet one another and get to know each other, my parents loved Zoe and encouraged me to pursue a courtship and thankfully I was able to ask her dad if Zoe and I could start a courtship once we got back, which he agreed to. A couple of months into our courtship we found out that I was being reassigned to a post out in the desert near Oasis Springs, and I knew that I didn’t want to leave without Zoe by my side as it would be so hard to meet whilst I was away - so I asked her father if I could propose which he agreed to. I’d heard about this new botanical gardens that had opened up in Willowcreek, and I needed to head there to fix some of my paperwork and after seeing pictures I thought it would be the perfect place to propose, so asked Zoe if she wanted to come with me on the premise of me getting paperwork done while I was there. Macie came as our chaperone, and I dropped them off at her sister Adalynn’s house whilst I set things up at the gardens, and get my paperwork done. The proposal went off without a hitch, because I suggested a picnic at the gardens, she didn’t think it weird that we went there and Macie’s job (other than chaperoning) was telling us to pose for a picture together so I could get in position to propose. Zoe was a flurry in planning the wedding, the whole ride home from Willowcreek she and Macie had already began planning, I couldn’t help with the planning much due to work stuff so she was a powerhouse in getting things done in such a short time as we wanted to be married before I had to move.”

[Z] “I grew up the 4th child of 13, so I had a lot of responsibility as I grew up. My parents named me after my grandmother, and I always try and be loving and kind in the way that she was by always trying to do something to make someone elses life easier. As kids my parents made sure we all learnt how to play an instrument, so I learnt piano and guitar but singing is what I found to be the most fun for me. Over the years we’d travel to Family Bible Camp or political rallies and I loved getting to sing with a group, eventually I joined the choir at church and progressed to the lead singer. Everyone at home used to tease me for singing all the time, my buddy group had Reece, Beckett, and Amira in it and when I’d do their school with them I would help them make up songs to as we worked through their textbooks, so our corner of the ‘school room’ was always filled with song. As I got older I started working more on writing music, but as my older siblings got married and chores got redistributed I had to reorganise my priorities, but thankfully I was still able to work on my music.

I first saw Francisco when he visited our church for the first time, I was singing with the choir and had led the singing for a few songs, so he noticed me before I noticed him. After the service I was hearing all this flurry from the girls at church about how this new military guy was attending with us now, and how handsome he was and all the other things that come with a man in uniform [laughs] In my mind, all I was thinking of was how he was new to the area and knew nobody, so I wrangled together some of my cousins and we made sure to make him feel welcome. Over time as we hung out, I realised why all the girls had their feathers ruffled, but since I was older than a few of the girls there I assumed I wouldn't be the target audience of his attentions should it come to that. My mother always said that us girls should pray for our future husband and have certain qualities in mind that we wanted for a partner, but in that moment I wasn’t thinking about my list - or else I’d have realised that he ticked loads of boxes for me. I made it a point to keep my feelings to myself because I didn’t want to jeopardise our friendship, especially because he wasn’t going to be with us in Newcrest for a long time. Because his schedule was unpredictable at times, most times it was me and like 2 other people spending time with Francisco, which gave us a chance to get to know each other more, and eventually he did bring up talk of the future with me and at that point I told him that I would be happy to (inside I was shrieking) but he’d have to ask my dad. I guess our families meeting at my cousin’s charity benefit helped move things along because when we got back we made things official. A few months after we started courting, Francisco got news that he was being reassigned soon and in my head I’m thinking about how we were going to do long distance for however long before we got married, and when he proposed I truly had no idea that it was coming. He’d asked me if I wanted to come with him to Willowcreek because he had paperwork to do there, he suggested we have a picnic at this new botanical garden that had opened up there and I was all for it since we were trying to spend as much time as possible together. He was so gracious and even dropped Macie and I off at Adalynn’s house to spend some time with her and the boys whilst he fixed his paperwork and set up the picnic for us. When we got to the gardens, everything was so beautiful and we had such a great time, and when Macie told us that she’d take some pictures of us I thought nothing of it and started posing for a picture when all of a sudden Francisco is down on one knee and I’m in tears [laughs] The whole ride home was me calling my mother and making plans for what I wanted for the wedding along with macie on speakerphone, and even though it was a rush the wedding turned out great.”

How have you changed since marriage?

[F] “Our marriage started off with us moving into the desert, and I’m thankful that Zoe is so adaptable because these next few years are going to come with a few changes. Probably the biggest change coming up for us is our son who should be joining us soon, we’ve been rushing to get things done before he gets here. Unfortunately for me, soon after his due date I’ve got a training exercise out in the desert that will take me away for some time, so I’m thankful that Zoe’s sister Macie will come down to stay with her whilst I’m away. My parents also live a few hours drive away in Strangerville, so I’m sure my mother will be able to come down for support whilst I’m away as well.”

[Z] “One thing my sisters and cousins said after getting married is how quiet everything is when you’re in your new house, and I truly get it. Having to only cook and care for 2 (soon to be 3) people rather than working as a team in a house of 15 people was a bit jarring [laughs], and Francisco makes it so easy because he makes his own breakfast as he’s up at dawn! Going from the country where there’s loads of green to the desert where there’s nothing but hot sand was quite a change, but I wouldn’t exchange it for the world. Now that I’m in the final stages of my pregnancy where the only thing we’re left waiting for is baby , I’m excited for this new change and for baby boy to be here already. I’m still making my music, but obviously my priorities are going to be looking a little different for the coming future, and I’m okay with that.”

#fundie sims #fundiesims #quiverfull sims #quiver full sims #modest sims #homeschool sims #sims 4 romance #Love Day Love Story Series #collins family #collins legacy #sims 4 legacy #gen 3 #Francisco and Zoe #post #these two are cute #Zoe really hit the hot husband jackpot with this one #lets see what their kid looks like

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susanardisseny · 4 years ago

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6th week on UX/UI Bootcamp at Ironhack

What a hard week. Summer and high temperatures are not helping me to focus on the project. I feel quite tired. We are working on Onboarding WebApp and the research has been hard. Try to find people near to HR and working in August, is a bit difficult, but finally, I managed to get the information that I need to find out pain problems and try to offer an innovative solution to the project. So, I’m only a day late of my original plan. I’ll recover.

We are still working on it, so I hope next week I will be able to show you the whole project :). So sorry, but the deadline is chasing me!

#ironhack

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mainlinesummercamp · 3 years ago

Link

In this report, we dive into the trends reshaping how our clothes and accessories are designed, manufactured, distributed, and marketed.

#summer camp programming summer camp coding summer camp near me gameplay camp robotics camps top coding bootcamps web development bootcamps c

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codingninjasofficial · 5 years ago

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