the gang buster

How to get on the theater gang's good sides

Buster: Help him out around the theater (preferably for free) and ask about his love for his business while actually listening.

Rosita: Volunteer to babysit her kids and encourage her in saying that she’s good with her talents.

Gunter: You’re practically always on his good side if you aren’t an ass, but even more so if you dance along to his warm ups.

Ash: Don’t press on about her personal life, and listen to the songs that she writes, giving constructive criticism where it’s due.

Johnny: Listen to his piano playing skills and check up on him from time to time. Just don’t bring up his family business.

Meena: Just say hi to her whenever she passes by and be nice to her. And if you catch her singing, tell her that she did good!

Mike: Give him money and compliment him. Raise his ego.

Eddie: Hang out with him, play some games, just be a cool bro. Just don’t insult the games he likes.

Miss Crawley: Just say hello to her and listen to her talk about the good ol’ days she had when she was young. She likes having somebody to talk to.

Jude: Help them out with stuff they need help with and tell them they don’t have to pay you back. (Not gonna stop them though). Also if they look down, comfort them, but don’t press on too much on why they’re sad.

anonymous asked:

imagine Steve doing a newspaper (or web) comic that becomes massively popular

Long ago, when the stars were new and the world was barely formed, a mistake was made. A mistake so miniscule and seemingly inconsequential that it was never corrected. Unbeknownst to the world of men, that mistake trickled down the rivers of time, spreading chaos in its’ wake, until finally arriving at its’ ultimate destination; putting Clinton Francis Barton in charge of the campus newsletter.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t turn a phrase if he wanted to, or that he couldn’t handle the responsibility. In many ways, Clint was eerily effective at his job. The problem was that he when he thought something was a good idea, he committed his entire being into making it a reality.

Now, Steve could have finished not only the remainder of his collegic career, but indeed his entire life, without having the faintest knowledge of Clint Barton’s tendencies towards tunnel vision.

He could have. But Steve was friends with Nat. Nat, for all intents are purposes, was friends with everyone. The amount of people he’d been introduced to through her was starting to eclipse the number of people Steve had met in his twenty three years of life. Though whether or not his fiery haired compatriot was actually close to the people she paraded in front of him was irrelevant as far as he could tell. If she got it into her head that they could make for good friends or, God help us all, a love connection, he inevitably ended up drinking coffee with a stranger on her recommendation.

Thus, the planets finally aligned, and Steve was introduced to Nat’s ‘really, actually my best friend this time’ Clint.

Much their mutual shock, they hit it off like gang busters. Steve found himself actually investing in Clint’s outlandish stories and escapades, while he suspected Clint got a kick hearing so much sass and snark coming out of that fragile looking frame.

As far as Steve was concerned, they were all set to ride off into that bright sunset known as the ‘newly made friends.’ Or they would have been, had Clint not accidentally picked up a sketch that Steve dropped as they were packing up.

It was a tiny thing, nothing more than a pen and napkin doodle. But try telling that to Clint Goddamn Barton.

“Man, I need you to know that I say this with a truly massive collection of comic books to back me up: You. Are. Amazing! Please, just consider doing a strip in the newsletter, I know you’d have a great time and people would lose their shit over this. All we have now is the public domain clipart we paste to the top of articles. You can do whatever you want, totally dealers’ choice. So long as it’s appropriate or whatever, but seriously, don’t stress over it.”  

Steve had loved drawing since he was in diapers, and his mom bought him baby’s first color by numbers. It was what got him through hospital trips and anxiety attacks, boring lectures and less than successful dates. He was a sketcher, always had been, doodling away on projects that no one was ever supposed to appreciate or even see. A full comic strip in a bi-weekly newsletter was far out of his wheelhouse.

But Clint inherited his eyes from the happiest golden retriever to ever draw breath. Steve had known the man for less than two hours and he couldn’t even fathom turning him down when he just looked so darn hopeful.

It started with a few one-off funnies. Some vague jokes about life on campus and the follies of the administration. Nothing that hadn’t been done a thousand times before in a thousand different papers, but it was a laugh.

The student body ate it up like starving wolves, much to Steve’s personal bewilderment. Clint insisted that they loved his style, that it was the exact mix of Calvin and Hobbes and Adventure Time that every college student dreams of finding. He begged Steve to start on a more regular project, develop some characters and plot lines. It didn’t have to be anything monumental, just something to keep the people coming back.

Steve was mapping out ideas on the floor of his apartment when Sam, roommate and friend extraordinaire, piped up from his place on the couch. “If you’re short on ideas, you could do make it about us.”

“I know you’re desperate for fame Wilson, but if you hadn’t noticed, we’re not exactly making the front page here.” Steve was an arts student, Sam a volunteer at the Vet’s club. It was a good life, certainly the happiest years of Steve’s life so far, but the biggest adventures they found themselves in were making rent and avoiding food poisoning at their favorite dodgy sushi bar.

“So spice it up!” Steve should have made the connection before; Sam and Clint both share a certain single-mindedness when it came to ‘good ideas’, though Sam aired less on the side of pushy. “We could be hard boiled detectives, or a couple of brow beaten cops. Hell, give us capes and call it a day.”

“No capes,” Steve murmured but the wheels in his head were already spinning. He did have a pretty eclectic group of friends. There were possibilities.

He worked through the night on sketches and character designs, stuffing everything into a binder to bring to Clint. Steve barely got the first page out the table before he was engulfed in one of Clint’s bear hugs. Steve was air born for a solid minute before he was asked for a title.

It was still in such preliminary stages he hadn’t given that much thought. A group of heroes, all stuck together in what could be read as either a dorm or some kind of tower-

“Assembled.”

It was a work in progress.