picking up new habits

Modern Baseball asks
  • Tears over Beers: Are you currently in love?
  • @Chl03k: Do you believe in online relationships?
  • See ya, Sucker: Do you have a 'hangout' spot in your town that you frequent?
  • Fine, Great: Are you addicted to social media?
  • Rock Bottom: Describe your perfect day-in
  • Apartment: Where did you meet your former/current partner?
  • Going to Bed Now: Are any of your friends social media/phone addicted?
  • Your Graduation: Do you still think about a certain someone from three years ago?
  • The Thrash Particle: Do you feel like your relationship has to be secretive?
  • Holy Ghost: Have you experienced a death in the family?
  • Mass: Whats the farthest you've been from your home/home state?
  • It's Cold Out Here: Have you ever been rejected?
  • The Waterboy Returns: Have you ever been caught in a downward spiral?
  • Jake Ewald: Do you tend to pick up new habits/talents easily?
  • Brendan Lukens: Who do you think impacts you the most?
  • Sean Huber: Are you in a band?
  • Ian Farmer: What are three things you'd consider 'nerdy' about yourself?
Anchor

A moment on the Stan o’ War II, post-finale, where one of those better-left-buried memories of Stan's rears its ugly head. Luckily, Ford’s well-versed enough by now to handle it. Brotherly fluff with a touch of hurt/comfort because I can’t resist.


Tap. Tap. Tap.

Ford paused in sketching out the ship’s course for the following day’s journey, fingers curling around his feather pen. He had a knack for drowning out background noise whenever he became intent on his writing, a habit picked up from working in rowdy New Jersey classrooms and then even rowdier community colleges.

Certainly, if he could study for his doctorate during the week leading to spring break, he could ignore his brother’s attempts at breaking his admittedly impressive paddle ball record.

After another ten minutes of continuous tapping, however, Stanford began to suspect that he’d overestimated his abilities.

He groaned. “Stanley, would you please stop that incessant racket?”

“What?” said Stan innocently. “I’m entertaining myself. No harm, no foul.”

Staking his head, Ford asked tartly, “Where did you even get that toy?”

“Found it,” Stan replied, shrugging.

Which basically translated to, “You stole it.”

His brother smirked, utterly unabashed. Ford snorted.

“Better not bring the Coast Guard down on our heads again, knucklehead.” Or as his brother so fondly called them, the Ocean Police.

“For what, aggravated paddle ball theft?”

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It’s Our Thing [ Steve Rogers x OC-Reader Insert ]

Prompt :  Steve drew the reader.Something cute and fluffy because they’re not together but Steve has a huge crush on the reader

Pairing : Steve Rogers x OC

Genre : Romance |   Warning : None

Author’s Note : I hope you enjoy this story! :) Don’t forget to tell me what you think of the stories :) You could request a name of your choice for OC if you want. Send me a prompt, genre, and the characters you want me to write a oneshot of. :)

Request here

(gif doesn’t belong to me)

Originally posted by thnksfourthmmrs

Steve bought a dozen sketchbooks when he woke up in 2012. He filled it out with sketches of passerby, buildings, and stray animals. He drew anything he found interesting or new for him. It wasn’t easy to pick up this habit of his, he realized. 70 years on ice made him feel things, dream things, think of things he knew he shouldn’t. It was a difficult time for him.

It wasn’t until he joined the avenger did he realize that he just need a muse. That he needed an anchor and fortunately (or unfortunately) he found it in his new best friend, [Y/N]. She was kind and she was as in love with art as he was, which was a great big plus. They would go to the park with their sketchbooks to draw for a few hours before they were called for a mission. It was like a therapy for him. It was how he managed to climb out of his shell and feel human again.

Two years and 3 months. It took two years and three months for him to admit that he has feelings for [Y/N]. That he was in love with her. Natasha was the one who cornered him and asked him about his intention on her favorite little avengers (Natasha really thinks she could just adopt [Y/N] as her sister). Steve stammered his answer and blushed to his neck. Natasha smirked, gave him a little pat on the back, and told him to get it together. She put a sketchbook, his sketchbook on his hand before she sauntered away.

“Did you open it?” He croaked out. Natasha’s glance before the door closed on her was enough of an answer for him. He slowly flipped open the sketchbook and his lips automatically curved into a soft smile. This was the first time he started to draw [Y/N]. They were on their usual outing and they were supposed to draw the scenery. He drew her instead. She looked so serene and happy, Steve couldn’t help but to pick up her pencil and draw her.

There were more sketches of her soon after that. But his favorite would have to be the sketch he drew a year ago. They went on a trip to a small city in Europe after their mission. Her eyes were so bright and she was smiling the whole day. They sat down on the pier and she lost herself in her own drawing while his eyes were fixated on her. He took in her side profile and his hand moved on its own. He never told anyone about it. It was his little secret. He knew [Y/N] probably think of him as nothing but a good friend and he was okay with that. Bucky would’ve smacked his head and told him to stop being so scared and start asking her out. Steve had a bittersweet smile on his face as he put his sketchbook back in his room.

* * *

Bucky did smack him on the back of his head when he came back a year later. He was in the middle of his therapy session when he remembered a sliver of memory and told Steve about it. It ended up with Steve telling him about his secret pinning for [Y/N]. Steve was grateful Bucky didn’t smack him with his left hand. Bucky looked a little proud for remembering.

“He’s getting better, right?” Steve turned to [Y/N] who sat herself next to him on the couch.

“Yeah. He remembered some things. It’s a progress.” Steve nodded.

“I talked to him today.” [Y/N] watched Steve spluttered his drink and stared at her in surprise.

“What? Really? Bucky doesn’t like people.” He may have gotten a lot better than when he first stepped inside the tower 6 months ago but he still has a long way to go.

“Yep. He told me something interesting.” She grinned.

“What is it?” Steve swore he would kill Bucky if he told her about his crush.

“He said you were a little scared of being rejected. I asked him why and then he gave me this sketchbook.” She pulled out a very familiar looking sketchbook from her bag. Steve’s eyes bulged out. He’s going to kill Bucky.

“Wha—di—did you open them?” Steve stammered.

“I saw the first page.” She smiled. “It was a lovely drawing.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Steve mumbled.

“I do. It’s why I want to give you this.” Her hand shook as she took out another sketchbook and gave it to him. Steve turned his attention from her nervous expression to the book and flipped it open. A soft gasp escaped his lips as he went through each pages. There were sketches of him. Of him.

“We’re a little bit stupid when it comes to this, aren’t we?” She softly spoke out. He looked up with bright eyes and huge smile on his face.

“It’s kinda our thing, doll.” He replied.

Habits [A Gruvia Fanfiction]

There’s something rather flattering about somebody picking up your habits. Especially when it’s not on purpose but comes as a natural result of spending days and months together.

Or so Gray would have liked to think until Juvia starts to take off her clothes at random intervals.

He knows she cares about him - that much is obvious from miles away and he honestly never needed Erza to point anything out for him - but he’s convinced she goes too far to show him most days. Of course, the cakes and the muffler are kind of endearing, in her own insane way, but the body pillow took it way too far.

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Nickolas had picked up a few new habits since he had been gone on vacation. He found more amusement from pissing people off that he didn’t know, but found the best enjoyment of pissing people off that he knew, by using what he knew against them. At first, he started with his parents, but of course, they didn’t care, they never did, but he still managed to get under their skin. “The atmosphere of Bora Bora inspired me.” The male smirked. He knew he was talking out of his ass. Although, it was nothing new, Nickolas just enjoyed doing this more often. “They taught me to channel my inner self.” He looked at the other, with his hand in the air his four fingers against his thumb. “And that’s what I plan on doing.” He smirked, placing his hands in his pockets for warmth. “I can tell you. I have a lot of enemies in Bora Bora now.” He smiled with amusement. “But, you could assume that.”

Okay but imagine that Bucky likes to personally mend Steve’s uniform when it gets ruined. Bucky’s still recovering from being the winter soldier, and has a new arm thanks to Stark, and to practice his motor skills with that arm to get used to it, he takes up sewing. He remembers steve and himself mending each other’s shirts back in the 30s when they couldn’t afford new clothes often, and has picked up the habit again.
So he mends Steve’s uniform, each tear with whichever coloured thread is nearby, and the press starts speculating about the technicolor of patches on Captain America’s uniform. When asked if he thinks the ‘new look’ compromises his image as a hero by the press, Steve answers with 'the person who mends my uniform does it because they care enough to spend the time to do so, and I think that that is something precious, and something admirable. The love put into the effort is more important to me than a clean uniform that looks new’

I like to think about Finn continuing to hold hands with people.

Like he makes a bunch of new friends with the Resistance and picks up a habit of platonic hand holding as a matter of course, as they stroll along hallways or wherever. When Rey comes back, he holds her hand too (she doesn’t protest this time). BB-8 rolls along beside him and Finn lets his hand hang low enough to brush his fingers against the top of the droid’s antenna.

The first time he takes Poe’s hand, it’s a little shyly, (this is *different*, it’s not platonic at all, this isn’t like holding hands with Rey) but Poe beams at him and laces their fingers together.

Finn + holding hands okay.

i hope you picked up a bad habit, or a new activity or stopped buying that cologne brand you used to always wear or maybe you stopped going into that store that has that sales girl that looks like me and smells like i used to smell but mostly i hope every single time you think of me you need to swallow down the pain of knowing it was your fault and i can only hope you still want me back.
—  ~j

Allison’s fingers intertwined with each other. She picked up a new habit of playing with her fingers. It was a way for Allison to check if this was real, if she was real. She didn’t think she would ever see Beacon Hills again. She sighed as her eyes glanced to a newspaper that reported people dead because of an “animal” attack. She picked up the paper and looked at the pictures the paper contained. “Well, Beacon Hills is still a questionable place to live.” She commented to herself, not realizing there was a person near her listening.

Cocaine Blue

Waging war within myself
Dropping bad habits
Picking up new bad habits
How much is one night worth?
300 dollars?
I don’t know
I never studied economics

I wish I wrote more
Though when I do actually write more it always seems like I’m writing less
Does that make sense?
Maybe I’m writing the wrong way
I can’t tell anymore
I can’t drink anymore
I can’t stand anymore
Can someone buy me a mobility scooter?

Mediocre Poetry Inc.
Would you buy my book if I named it that?
You don’t have to answer
Should I take a picture so no one thinks I’m lying?
You don’t have to answer

Maybe I should take a break before I lose control
Have I already lost control?
You don’t have to answer
If you know you’ve lost control does that mean your back in control?
You don’t have to answer

Call a doctor
Call a cowboy
Call your mom
Tell her you’re doing well
Call 911
Call in a pizza for delivery
Call the California Psychic Network
Call the president of the free world
Just to see how he’s doing

Am I making sense?
Should I use more concrete details

The sky is black
The streets are cold
My legs are crossed
My house haunted by cigarette smoke
blah blah blah
Everything fading

Who do I have to let down to get ahead ‘round here?
What do I have to learn to move on with the next chapter of my life?
What leg will have to break to stand straight?

I’m probably overthinking things
I usually do
Mediocre Vomit Poetry Inc.
All natural
State certified
Bullshit

I’m leaving you tomorrow and
I’ll cut off all my hair.
I’ll scrape my face as a statement
and I’ll paint my nails black.
I’ll buy that red lipstick that you said attracted all the men–
And I’ll wear it everyday.

I’ll pick up old habits that I left behind and leave behind new habits I picked up.
I’ll read Ginsberg in the rain, and sing Bob Dylan in the attic.
I’ll preach my liberal ways from the highest rooftop till the Feds shoot me down.

I’ll find someone who loves me and then breaks my heart– or maybe I’ll break a few of my own.
I’m leaving you tomorrow so I’ll do as I damn well please because I’m doing just that: leaving you.

—  “Maybe We’ll Meet in Another Life.” (via writersdelusion)