#there is high change this edit just has a lot of mistake so...

[david-talks-sw]

How the narrative framed Mace Windu, back in 2002

So there's this 2002 book written by Marcus Hearn, edited by J.W. Rinzler, titled Attack of the Clones - The Illustrated Companion. It was released a month before Episode II was released.

AKA, before EU material and anti-Jedi fanon could publicly reframe the meanings of the film... and before more recent narratives could reinterpret the character of Mace as a robotic, protocol-worshipping stickler who never bends the rules (when evidence shows he's anything but).

So how does Marcus Hearn - "untainted" by all the above factors, armed only with the Prequel films and their screenplays - frame the character of Mace Windu?

MACE & ANAKIN

Fandom: "Mace hated Anakin from Day #1 and never trusted him. Mace was probably jealous as he always thought he was the Chosen One, not Anakin!"

Attack of the Clones' - The Illustrated Companion:

"Jedi Masters Yoda and Mace Windu lead the High Council in rejecting Qui-Gon's application to train Anakin, 'He is too old,' concludes Mace Windu. 'There is already too much anger in him.'

Hearn explains that the problem with Anakin wasn't that he was just too old, it's that because of that age he had become too filled with fear and anger to a point where taking on the Jedi training would be twice as hard for him as it already was for everyone else.

Hearn doesn't chastise Mace for this initial decision. On the contrary, he adds more context to it by using a line from the screenplay to explain where Mace is coming from.

He also goes further into Mace's view of Anakin throughout the book:

"[Mace] over-estimates Anakin Skywalker, paying little credence to Obi-Wan's protestations that the boy is too confused and disturbed to be dispatched on a solo mission."

"The Jedi Council is aware of Anakin's exceptional skills, and Mace Windu believes Anakin may fulfill the prophecy that says a being will one day bring balance to the Force. But Anakin still has a lot to learn…"

He's basically stating that Mace believes in Anakin, but that doing so is a mistake. Which, to be fair, considering how things turn out for Mace and the Jedi... is kinda true!

Mace's problem with Anakin is almost the opposite of what most of the fandom projects onto him.

It's not that he dislikes Anakin, on the contrary, he holds Anakin in too high of an esteem and is overlooking Anakin's glaring flaws because "hey, Anakin's the Chosen One. He's got this!"

That's not the only flaw Mace has, according to Hearn.

MACE'S (and the Jedi's) ONLY REAL FLAW

Fandom: "Mace and the Jedi had become too emotionally detached, they had lost touch with the common folk by spending too much time in their ivory tower. They focused so much on being selfless that they forgot how to care, they've become a bunch of elitist, righteous sticklers for protocol who care more about upholding laws than actually helping the people those laws are meant to protect!"

Attack of the Clones' - The Illustrated Companion:

"Although he is a senior member of the Jedi Council, little in Mace Windu's experience has prepared him for the looming threats of the dark side of the Force and Count Dooku's Separatists."

"Mace Windu's faith in the Jedi to protect the Republic is admirable, but it also blinds him to the true scale of the growing menace. He is aware that the dark side is growing, but still allows himself to be too easily reassured about the Separatists' ambitions. [...] Mace fatally misjudges Count Dooku, refusing to believe he could be behind any attempt on Senator Amidala's life. 'Dooku was once a ledi, he tells Padmé. 'He couldn't assassinate anyone. It's not in his character.'"

"Mace Windu's strengths are, in many ways, qualities shared by the Jedi Order as a whole - he is an accomplished diplomat and a fine swordsman. Such skills have served the Jedi well in their role as the galaxy's peacekeepers for a thousand generations. But such skills are not enough to save the Jedi from their own complacency, and the tumultuous changes that threaten to wipe them out forever."

Hearn perfectly grasps what the Jedi's only real flaw is, in George Lucas' intended narrative: they were unprepared, complacent, they were blind... and now they're stuck playing catch-up.

But when he's saying that, he's not blaming them for it. Because this flaw doesn't derive from some sense of elitism or superiority... it is an inevitable consequence of their qualities.

They've managed to stay out of politics as neutral diplomats... ... but that makes them vulnerable to the Sith's plot, which primarily takes place within the political arena, where they have no control or experience.

They are painfully aware of the corruption in the Senate... ... but as a result, they're too quick to trust the Separatist's talking points as well-meaning and genuine, instead of seeing the movement for what it really is: greedy big business trying to become the government.

They trust and agree with Dooku, believe in what he publicly stands for (after all this man used to be one of the wisest and kindest members of the Jedi Order, Mace's friend, Yoda's Padawan, etc)... ... but as such, they are blind to his true nature, that of a treacherous Sith who'd stoop to orchestrating assassinations.

The Jedi have their guard up, knowing that there's another Sith Lord still out there, orchestrating in the shadows... ... but they can't really find him, because the Dark Side has clouded everything, so only darksiders are able to sense the possibilities of the future! Them serving the good side is screwing them over, in this situation.

Flaws such as being too trusting or being unprepared, letting your guard down because you've established a 1000-year-peace, are flaws that kind, noble characters such as the Jedi are bound to have.

They may be flaws, but they aren't faults. And considering the way he describes Mace and the Jedi, it's clear Hearn grasps the nuance.

MACE'S RELUCTANCE TO JOIN THE WAR

Fandom: The Jedi joined the war out of arrogance, they thought they could swashbuckle their way through the problem and win, instead they didn't realize that they lost the very moment they joined.

Attack of the Clones' - The Illustrated Companion:

"Mace Windu believes in the Jedi as keepers of the peace - not as soldiers - but there comes a point when he reluctantly realizes that it is time to take affairs out of the realm of diplomacy."

Mace and the Jedi didn't want to start a war. If you read the script for Attack of the Clones, Mace and Bail keep grasping at straws to not engage with the Separatists up til the very end.

But when you consider that...

the Geonosians are about to execute Obi-Wan without a trial,

and the Separatists leaders have been unmasked as a coalition of unscrupulous corporate assholes who are willing to plunge the galaxy in chaos just to make more money.

... at some point, the Jedi have to come to terms with the fact that Separatist leadership (and Sidious) won't accept diplomacy because they want a conflict. A conflict will make them all richer. And the Republic, well, they're just dying to go to war too.

So the Jedi go save Obi-Wan and capture Dooku, hoping that in doing so, the conflict ends before it begins. They succeed in the former goal... but fail the latter one.

The Clone War has begun.

From there on, the Jedi are drafted to lead the war. Which is why - as Hearn points out - Mace was so reluctant to take action in the first place. The Jedi are ambassadors, they are not built for war... and now they've been forced into one.

Mace is by no means a perfect character... but he's someone doing his best. Just like Obi-Wan, just like Yoda, and all the other Jedi.

Overtime, Windu's character has been dumbed down to either "that one angry black man" or "the dogmatic emotionless dick who hated Anakin"... and I really think that that's not what we were meant to see him as.

The way Marcus Hearn (who also wrote The Cinema of George Lucas) refers to him is a much more charitable interpretation of how others (ahem Filoni ahem) do, nowadays.

#Mace Windu #mace windu appreciation #long post #jedi order #anakin skywalker #meta #in defense of the jedi #star wars #master windu #samuel l jackson #attack of the clones #aotc #star wars prequels #flashing gif #very long post

[junkissed]

happy ending

member — husband!junhui x f reader genre — angst, fluff, hurt/comfort word count — 6.6k synopsis — a pointless argument escalates until both of you need some space, but it couldn't come at a worse time. warnings — female reader, planned pregnancy, there's a big argument but i tried to not make it too toxic (jun and reader have a happy & healthy relationship i promise), swearing, there is a happy ending lots of fluff !! notes — requested by anon — this has been sitting in my drafts for months bc every time i look at it i get shy and wanna change my mind but i'm proud of how this turned out so i'm posting it finally! i know pregnancy fics aren't everyone's favorite but this was honestly very comforting to write so i hope anyone who chooses to read can find comfort in it as well <3 also the last time i proofread this was like april and if i try to proofread it rn i'll get shy again and chicken out so if there's any mistakes pls ignore! i hope you enjoy :)

you sat on the bathroom floor, trying to comprehend the weight of the news you held in your hand. you couldn’t believe it. you could? you couldn’t. 

after many months of trying to start a family with your husband, you had finally succeeded. the slim plastic stick with two tiny pink lines was the last piece of evidence you needed. it had been months of carefully tracked cycles, fertility doctors, and new positions that seemed too weird to actually do anything. but now, everything was finally falling into place.

you don’t know exactly how much time you spend sitting on the floor and staring at the pregnancy test; thinking, planning, and thinking some more. but when you finally stand up and place the positive test on the counter with shaking hands, it still hasn’t fully sunk in yet what’s happening. something you’d wanted for so long, and finally it was all right in front of you.

what do you do now? no— you know exactly what you need to do, and it’s a long list of things. the real question is, where do you begin?

you thought back to all the videos you’d watched over the last few weeks. somehow every social media algorithm knew exactly what you wanted to see, and it had given it to you in abundance; baby showers, gender reveals, those “get ready with me - new mom edition” videos. all getting your hopes up before you could confirm whether or not it had finally happened.

with your hopes high and expectations even higher, you were already beginning to plan how you would break the news to junhui. as your husband and your soon-to-be baby’s father, of course you wanted him to be the very first person to know, so you couldn’t wait too long to tell him. you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

maybe you’d get a little gift box and give the test to him before dinner. but, then again, it was literally a piece of plastic you’d peed on. surely you could give him… something a little nicer than that.

maybe you could buy a baby outfit and wrap it up for him. but you remembered he’d mentioned so many times about how excited he would be to pick out clothes once you got pregnant. you would want him to have the honor of picking out the very first one, going to the store together and looking through the whole section before finally settling on the perfect one.

what else was there you could do? bake a cake? make a crossword puzzle? buy him a t-shirt that says “dad-to-be”? so many ways you could do it, but none of them seemed perfectly right.

from the other room you hear the door opening, and hurriedly you stuff the test into a drawer, not wanting to tell him just yet. you need a plan first; waiting another day or two couldn’t hurt, so you’ll just have to figure out how to tell him later.

you flip off the bathroom light and stride into the hallway, barely able to contain the grin on your face. you’ve always been terrible at keeping secrets, and with news as big and exciting as this you have no idea how you’re going to be able to hide it from him for more than a minute.

but luckily you don’t have to wonder about it for long, because as soon as you see jun you can already tell he’s in a sour mood. 

you know it’s usually best to let him have some time alone when he’s upset, but not for too long because he starts getting frustrated with himself and won’t stop working until he’s exhausted.

but you’re still on a high after everything today, so you decide on being a little bit sweeter to him in the hopes that your happiness will be contagious and that it’ll lift his spirits, despite what was probably a really awful day at work.

you find him sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, long fingers pressed against his eyes trying to block out the light.

“hey, junnie,” you call out, sitting down in a chair next to him. “bad day?”

“yeah,” he answers shortly.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you hum, putting your hand on his shoulder, but he flinches and your hand falls away in surprise. he’s never done that before. weird. you try something else. “um, any requests for dinner?”

“not hungry.”

“alright. well, i guess i can cook up some veggies and leave them out, you can heat them up whenever you get hungry.”

he moves his hands away from his face and onto the table, sighing as he leans back in his chair. “can you just— leave me alone for a while? i’m sorry.”

you nod and stand up. “no, it’s fine. i get it. i’ll bring you some tea later then, maybe. text me when you’re feeling better.” you reach out and gently touch his hand before walking away, leaving him alone at the table.

it’s definitely one of his worser days, you note, so you retreat to your bedroom to watch more videos on your phone, trying to bring back your excitement from earlier. hopefully later he’ll be more open and you can sit down and eat something, and maybe by then you’ll have come up with a good way to tell him the news.

an hour passes and you come out of your bedroom to look for jun, having a question from one of your friends about the dinner you’d arranged to have together next week. but he’s no longer in the kitchen, so you peek your head into his office room and find him exactly where you expect him to be, trying to work himself to death.

you clear your throat before you enter, not wanting to startle him again. “hey, junnie, i know you’re in a bad mood, and i’m sorry to interrupt, but—”

“what do you want?” he snaps, never turning around from his desk. just from the way he’s hunched over his computer, he looks like the most stressed you’ve ever seen him, and your chest tightens with worry before your brain registers what he’s just said to you.

“i— excuse me?”

“i said, what do you want?” he repeats, still facing away from you.

you resist the urge to glare at him, knowing he’s probably under a lot of pressure, and you aren’t trying to add to it. “you don’t have to be rude, jun. i just came in here to double check about next weekend, minghao’s texting me.”

he finally lifts his head, slamming his hand down on the desk. “i’m really trying not to snap at you, but— jesus, you make it so fucking hard sometimes.”

you raise your eyebrows in disbelief, your voice lifting in tone. “well, i’m so very sorry to inconvenience you then, but i really don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, jun.”

“and i don’t appreciate you talking to me like i’m a child! when will you get it through your head?”

his comment stings, but you brush it off. “well, maybe if you’d just talk to me like an adult instead of throwing a fit and hiding in your office then i wouldn’t have to treat you like one!” you’re starting to get tired of how he retreats in on himself every time bad shit happens. all you want to do is let him know he doesn’t have to do it alone, and he’s just… exploding at you for no reason, so you don’t try to hide the snarkiness behind your words.

he scoffs angrily and stands up, towering over you at his full height. “oh, grow up! you’re so moody all the time and you expect me to just put up with it! as if i don’t have enough other shit to worry about, i have to worry about what you think of this and that and everything all the damn time!”

you’ve never seen him get so angry like this, and it’s almost scary how completely different this jun is from the jun you know and love. “okay, jun, fine, i’ll just—”

“no, don’t fucking “jun, fine” me. it’s like you’re doing it on purpose at this point, you act like everything is just so perfect and then when it’s not you act like it’s your job to fix everything! you can’t fix everything!”

“i said fine! just forget it, i’ll leave you the hell alone like you always want!”

he pushes past you and crosses the room in two strides, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door, his hand already on the doorknob. “i need to get some air. i’ll be back later.”

you fold your arms over your chest, trying to look unphased but inside your heart is breaking. “you’re really gonna walk out like that? you’re just gonna run away from this? real mature, junhui.”

he spins around, and the look in his eyes is cold. “if i don’t get out of this house right now i’m gonna say something i actually regret.”

and in a flash the door is slammed shut and jun is gone. you can hear his car starting up in the driveway, and seconds later everything is dead silent.

you stand frozen in front of the door, unable to move. you can’t believe it. you can’t. what just happened?

jun has never just… walked out like that.

his words ring in your ears; though your argument wasn’t very long, a lot was said in a very short time and you can’t even begin to think about how to process it as it starts to hit you all at once.

say something he actually regrets? what the hell does that mean? so he’s saying he doesn’t regret everything else, the cursing and the anger and the pointed words that were clearly meant to hurt you?

minute after long minute passes and you realize he’s not coming back anytime soon. finally you drag yourself away from the door, dropping down on the couch in a daze.

there’s never been a time where you and jun haven’t made up immediately after an argument. sure, maybe you take a little bit to cool down in your own space, but neither of you like letting the tension sit unresolved for very long. so what was it this time that made him leave without even a goodbye?

so many reasons, so many excuses, so many words you could’ve said instead. you shouldn’t have reacted like that, you shouldn’t have kept it going, you should’ve just left him alone. would that have made him stay? if you’d backed down sooner and just let him work through it on his own?

despite all the what-ifs and the doubts in your mind, your conscience won’t allow you to let him worry about everything by himself without at least offering your help. you’re a team, husband and wife, and you’ll be damned if you let him forget that. maybe you trying to help actually made things worse in the end, but at least you know you tried… right?

it’s not until you check your phone and realize that jun’s been gone more than half an hour that you finally let yourself cry. you’d been so focused on worrying about where jun was and whether he was okay that you’d barely even thought about what might happen after this.

will he just… come back and pretend nothing happened? will he come back and still be angry at you? it would almost be worse if he was calm and acted like everything was normal. would he even apologize? would you even apologize? of course you would. both of you said things that were fucked up, and you’ll be the first to admit it if it means this whole thing can be over. right now all you want is to have junhui back.

the tears keep falling but you don’t even feel yourself crying, your face rigid as the tears continue to stain your cheeks.

after an hour you force yourself to get up off the couch and move somewhere, anywhere around the house to try and get your mind off things. but you can’t erase his voice from your head, the look in his eyes as he walked out the door and the way his shoulders hunched from anger mixed with exhaustion.

you find yourself back in your bedroom and you fall onto his side of the bed, wishing you would wake up to find that this has all just been a very bad dream.

it’s after 10pm when you hear your phone buzz on the nightstand and you sit up in a panic, scrambling to see if it’s something from jun. your eyes sting from crying so much, and you blink away the remaining tears as you unlock your phone with shaking hands. your heart drops even further when you realize it is, in fact, from jun, but not the news you want to hear.

you let your phone slip out of your grasp, tumbling to the carpet with a thud. when he’d said he’d be back later you had assumed that meant he’d be coming back tonight. clearly you thought wrong.

tomorrow seemed so far away; too much time to spend alone in a house that was supposed to be filled with happy memories, but now all you felt was pain. you felt it in your chest and in your stomach and in your head and everywhere. the whole room was suffocating, heavy weight crushing down on you from every angle.

you slide to the floor and pick up your phone. you don’t text junhui back. you’re not sure anymore if he’d even read your message. 

instead you type in your friend seokmin’s phone number, listening to the line ring as you wipe the back of your hand across your eyes.

as soon as he picks up, he can hear the anguish in your voice and he’s begging you to tell him what’s wrong, but all you can muster up is a soft, “can i stay with you tonight?” because you can’t bear to be in this house another second without junhui. 

and of course he says yes, and of course he’s immediately on his way over to pick you up. and of course he stops at mcdonald’s on the way back to his house to buy you something to eat, because you haven’t eaten and even though you don’t particularly have much of an appetite right now, seokmin would rather die than let you skip a meal, especially on a night like tonight when you could really use something to keep you going.

you throw your overnight bag on the floor of seokmin’s living room with a small sigh. in a haze you’d tossed in whatever items you thought you might need; a toothbrush, pajamas, something to wash your face with. 

he gives you space for a while as he pulls out the folding bed part of the couch and brings out blankets and pillows for you to sleep with. you don’t say it, but you really appreciate his help. he’s been one of your best friends for so long, and you don’t know what you’d do without him. 

you hadn’t thought about it while you were packing, but as you stand in seokmin’s bathroom you think about the cleanser you’d grabbed; your favorite one, the one jun had gotten you for your birthday last year and you’d never switched to another brand since. 

every single thing reminds you of him, and you push down a fresh wave of emotion as you scrub the foam into your skin, trying to wash away all your tears.

when you’re done getting ready for bed you find seokmin in the living room with a pot of tea. he was just trying to help, but unluckily for him, he’d made green tea. it was your favorite… but it also happened to be jun’s favorite.

and this time you can’t hold back your tears, and seokmin is sitting wide eyed and bewildered, wondering why you’re crying over tea, but he doesn’t ask. he just reaches out to let you hug him, and you squeeze him so tightly you know it must hurt, but he doesn’t say anything, just lets you hug him as hard as you can and lets your tears stain his t-shirt.

it takes another half hour for you to calm down enough to talk. you’d spent the time watching whatever was on tv, not really paying attention and instead playing everything back in your mind. seokmin had just sat next to you, quietly keeping you company until you were ready.

“jun and i… had a fight,” you say finally, interrupting the commercial playing on the screen.

“i figured,” he says, offering you a comforting smile as he mutes the tv. “do you wanna talk about it?”

“i don’t know. there’s not much to talk about.” you take a shaky breath, remembering it all one more time. “we both said some awful things that we didn’t mean. at least, i know i didn’t mean them. then he just… left, and he texted that he’d come home tomorrow. that’s it.”

you don’t tell him about the pregnancy test. you’ve mentioned once or twice that you and jun had been interested in starting a family, but you’d never gone into detail about it and you weren’t going to now. you still wanted jun to be the first person to know, even though you didn’t know when that might be anymore.

you tell him about other things instead, about your day at work and your plans for the weekend. eventually you finish your tea, and seokmin retreats to his own room and shuts the door with a quiet click, leaving you alone in the quiet of his living room.

it takes you a long time to fall asleep, but soon your exhaustion catches up with you and you let yourself rest, physically and emotionally drained. at least the silence here isn’t as bad as the silence at your house.

across town in his friend seungcheol’s guest bedroom, jun can’t stop tossing and turning. he’s fucked up, he knows he fucked up, big time.

why did he leave? he shouldn’t have left. you had been absolutely right, he was running away from everything and it was stupid and dumb and immature. but in that moment all he could think about was what the next awful thing he might say to you was, and he knew if he had stayed for any longer he wouldn’t have been able to stop what came out of his mouth. he was out of control, and immediately he knew it.

not even the worst day in the world could make you deserving of all the things he said to you. you were the only thing that wasn’t bad in his life; even on shitty days like today, all you did was care about him. and all he did was hurt you.

jun barely sleeps that night, finally forcing himself out of the extra bed at dawn. he’d been too anxious to sleep, too frustrated with himself to do anything other than think about everything he did and wonder if you were okay without him.

he’d already gotten an earful from his friend last night, and he knew he was still in big trouble. the things he said wouldn’t just go away overnight. in fact, they’d probably gotten worse by leaving them to build up overnight, and again he’s kicking himself for ever leaving in the first place.

he packs up his things as quickly as he can, eager to get home and see you again. on his way out the door, he thanks seungcheol for letting him stay the night and he apologizes for bothering him so late.

“i’m not the one you need to apologize to. you better figure out how to fix this, jun.”

with a straight face he nods, bowing his head as he closes the door.

in his car, jun takes the long way home, trying to find an open grocery store. he knows it won’t make up for how he acted, but the very least he can do it buy you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

he walks through the aisles, basket in hand, trying to think of something else for you. maybe he’ll get the ingredients he needs to make your favorite dinner tonight; he hadn’t eaten last night, though you had offered to cook for him and he’d shot you down.

he feels another pang of guilt at the thought, remembering yet another kind gesture you’d tried to give him that he’d brushed off like it meant nothing. it meant everything to him, and in the middle of the frozen vegetables aisle he swore he wouldn’t ever do it again. 

he’d taken you for granted, and he was so lucky that things hadn’t ended worse than they did. he could’ve said something truly unforgivable, or he could’ve even lost your relationship altogether. but he was still yours, and you were still his, and he would just have to work extra hard to make sure you knew how sincere he was.

he’d been a little worried that you hadn’t texted him back last night, seeing that you’d read his message but never responded. you were probably still hurt, and he didn’t blame you; still, he’d hoped you would say something back.

with grocery bags loaded full of ingredients for dinner and the special things he’d bought for you, the drive back home feels a little more hopeful.

he plans out everything he’ll do in the car. he’ll bring the groceries in and put them away quickly; it’s still fairly early in the morning, so hopefully you won’t be awake yet. he’ll arrange your flowers all nice in a pretty vase, and he’ll come in and wake you up with the best apology of his life and hopefully a really big hug. after the last 24 hours he really could use a hug, and he’s sure you could too. and then he’ll explain how sorry he is and how he didn’t mean any of it and then everything will be better again. yes, everything will be okay.

the first part of his plan goes perfectly. he sneaks into the house and when he’s met with silence he continues putting everything away, quietly so he won’t wake you up in the other room. then, he puts the flowers in a vase and with everything in place, he walks down the hallway to finally face you.

but when he twists the bedroom door handle, the bed is made and the room is empty. you aren’t there.

he frowns, leaving the room and poking his head into the bathroom, then his office. he calls your name loudly, hoping you’re just in a corner of the house and you’ll come out once you hear him. but no reply.

he goes back into the living room and sets the vase down on the coffee table, trying to think. you aren’t usually up this early, but maybe you hadn’t been able to sleep and you’d gone out for a walk, or maybe you’d gone to the store to get more cereal? 

a sinking feeling rises in his chest, and he walks back into the bedroom to confirm something, sliding open the closet door to check. your overnight duffel bag is gone.

he ducks back into the bathroom to check something else. your toothbrush isn’t sitting in the jar like it usually is. he slides open the bathroom drawer to check one more thing, and—

his hand freezes on the knob, staring at something in the drawer that wasn’t there before. he’s not sure it is what he thinks it is, but either way there it is, clear as day in front of him: a little white piece of plastic, sticking out from underneath a tissue. 

gingerly he pulls it out, holding it up to the light to see it better. when he sees the two pink lines he nearly drops it in shock, but he stops himself, setting it gently on the counter instead.

this is something special, something precious, and he knew he had to take care of it. you’d saved it for a reason; you could’ve easily just thrown it away once you knew the results, but you had kept it instead. were you going to give it to him?

he covers his mouth with his hand, still staring at the stick sitting on the edge of the sink. it was just a cheap piece of plastic, but to him it was the most important thing in the entire world.

he deflates when he realizes you’d probably been planning on telling him last night, before he’d blown up at you. if he’d been paying attention to anyone other than himself, he would’ve noticed your mood was happier than usual, your face glowing with contained excitement. he should’ve been paying attention.

there’s a sense of urgency in his stride as he dashes around the house, looking for any other sign of you, but it’s clear you weren’t there. there were so many places you could be, he can’t even begin to think of where to look. your parents, friends, family; hell, you could even have stayed in a hotel, alone and upset. he should’ve been there. none of this should’ve ever happened.

immediately he presses the speed dial for your phone, but of course– no answer. he calls again, and again you don’t pick up. he curses, resisting the urge to slam his phone down on the table in frustration. no, he has to stay calm. that’s what got him into this whole fucking mess in the first place.

he remembers that your parents are out of town on vacation, so you probably wouldn’t have gone there. you wouldn’t have gone to a hotel because you always lecture him about the importance of saving money “just in case”, so you wouldn’t have paid to stay somewhere. your sister is still in college and shares an apartment with three other people, so probably not the best idea either. 

that narrows it down to one of your friends’ houses; seokmin, who lives a couple blocks away, or joshua, who lives on the other side of town.

he figures seokmin is his best bet, so jun takes a deep breath and finds the contact in his phone.

“what do you want?” seokmin’s usually cheery voice has an edge to it today, and jun knows he’s picked right.

“is she there?” he asks anxiously.

“she is,” he confirms, and jun exhales, letting out the breath he had been holding in. “but she’s asleep still. i’ll let her know you called.”

“wait,” jun adds quickly.

the line is silent for a moment, and he’s afraid seokmin’s already hung up, but finally he gets a response. “what is it?”

"can i–are you sure? please," jun pleads. if he could just talk to you, just explain what happened and that he's so fucking sorry—

“hold on,” seokmin says, and the phone goes quiet again.

jun’s heart is in his throat as he waits for a response, and he stops when he finally hears your voice. “hello?”

he breathes a sigh of relief. “sweetheart. i’m so sorry.”

you don’t reply, so he continues.

“i’m glad you’re okay,” he starts, trying to put the right words together. “i shouldn’t have said any of that last night, and i shouldn’t have left. i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry.”

“thanks” is all you say, and he hates how small and sad your voice sounds. it’s his fault you sound like that.

“i found your test,” he bursts out, unable to hide his excitement any longer.

“oh." you pause, swallowing. "so… you know.”

“yes, i do know, baby. i’m so sorry, if i had known before—”

you cut him off, your tone suddenly rising with anger. “‘if you had known?’ so you won’t yell at me if i’m pregnant, but you’re just fine with yelling at me when you think i’m not? is that the only reason why you’re even apologizing to me right now?"

“no— fuck, no, of course not. i shouldn’t yell at you, period. and i’m not going to ever again.” jun pauses for a second, rubbing his hand over his eyes. he’s done nothing so far but make everything worse. “i really messed up, honey, and i’m sorry. i can’t say it enough. but— please, come home. i don’t want to talk over the phone.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will away the tears that threaten to fall again. you don’t want to cry about this anymore. “okay,” you say finally. “i’ll be home in a little while.”

“thank you,” jun says, and the way his voice breaks makes your heart sink. you can tell he feels awful about everything, and you do really, really miss him.

“…i love you," you add, changing your mind at the last second.

“i love you, too!” he says immediately. “i love you, too, honey. text me when you’re on your way.”

“i will.”

he says “i love you” twice more before you end the call. you sit in silence for a second, processing everything before you stand up off the couch and head to seokmin’s room to give him back his phone.

"can you take me home now, please?" you tell him softly, and immediately seokmin stands up and hugs you, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"of course. let me know when you're ready."

half an hour later you find yourself in the front seat of seokmin’s car once again, this time sitting nervously in his driveway as he puts your bag in the trunk for you. you're still not sure if you're ready to face jun yet, but you know you have to.

reluctantly you unlock your phone and open your text messages with jun, your eyes landing on the text he'd sent last night that had gone unreplied. with shaky fingers you type out that you're leaving seokmin’s house, and jun replies almost instantly with a long string of heart emojis.

seokmin gets into the car and starts it, and you exhale and set your phone in the cupholder.

"are you okay?" he asks, turning to look at you. "because you can always let me know if you need anything. anytime, day or night."

"i'm alright," you say, taking a deep breath. "i'm fine. but thank you, seok. i really appreciate everything."

he smiles, shifting the car into reverse. "of course. it's no problem at all."

the second he hears the car pull up outside the house, jun jumps up off the couch, smoothing his shirt down anxiously. through the window he watches seokmin hand you your bag and close the trunk, giving you one last hug before he gets back in the car. he doesn't drive away until you're at the front porch, and with a deep breath jun swings open the door, before you can even knock.

you both stand there in silence for a second before he blurts out another apology. "i'm sorry," he rushes to say. "i'm really sorry."

you give him a weak smile. "can i maybe… get in the house, first?" you ask quietly, motioning with your free hand at the doorway.

"yeah, i— yeah, shit, of course," jun says as he practically jumps out of your way, holding the door open for you to walk inside.

you set your bag on the floor by the couch as he closes the door behind you. the sound of the lock clicking seems too loud in the uncomfortable silence that settles over the room.

"can… can i give you a hug? please?" he asks, and you stay quiet but nod. 

he closes the distance between you in one stride and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you so tightly and holding you close to his chest. "i'm so sorry, honey. i didn't mean any of it. i promise."

"i believe you," you finally manage, your voice a little muffled from how he's pressing you against him.

he doesn't say anything more, just holds you and holds you, and it feels so good to be home where you belong. there's a lot that needs to be said, but for right now you don't need any more words. you're just glad to be back together again.

after a while you pull your head away from him so you speak. "i'm sorry."

"why are you apologizing? you didn't do anything wrong, baby. i'm the one that needs to be apologizing."

you shake your head. "no. i said some things last night, too. granted, not as bad as you, but…"

jun breaks out into a grin at your joke, and you feel your mood start to lighten. "…which is true. and i'm sorry."

"jun, you can stop apologizing now. i get it, you're sorry. you don't have to tell me a million times," you say, trying to laugh a little.

now it's his turn to shake his head. "well, i'm going to anyway. because i am sorry." you look away from him, feeling embarrassment start to boil up, but he continues talking. "i'm serious. i'll say it as many times as it takes to make it right."

you turn your head back to him, struggling to keep a straight face. "why did you leave, jun?" you ask softly.

he takes a deep breath, and still trapped in his arms you can feel his chest expand with the breath. 

"it was stupid," he says finally. "i left because i didn't want to stay and risk hurting you more. but i realize i did that anyway, by leaving. i was just… i needed some air. but i shouldn't have stayed away, and i'm not gonna do that again. i won't do it, ever again."

"i just don't want you to leave me," you manage, trying and failing to hide the crack in your voice as you feel your eyes start to well up with tears.

he hugs you tighter and one of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, gently smoothing your hair with his thumb. "i know, baby, i'm sorry. i'm not going to, i promise."

you don't respond, but you know he's telling the truth. the last 24 hours have been hell for the both of you, and you don't doubt he means every single "i'm sorry" he's said.

"so…" jun starts, and you tilt your head up at him.

"so?" you know what he's going to say next, and despite the excitement you had yesterday you feel yourself dreading this part of the conversation.

"you're pregnant?"

you sigh, looking down and avoiding his eyes. "yeah."

he hums. "but you don't sound excited?" he asks.

"well, i was, last night."

"i'm sorry," he winces. "do you wanna tell me now and i'll pretend this didn't happen and i don't know about it?"

you shake your head. "no, it's fine. the moment's kinda… ruined, already."

he sighs. "yeah, i know. i'm sorry i ruined it."

"i said it's fine, jun."

"no, it's not fine," he says firmly. "it's one hundred percent my fault. this is important to you, and to us, and we should be celebrating right now. last night should never have happened."

"jun, it's in the past. it was messed up, but i forgive you," you say, lifting you head to look at him once more. "it's not a big deal. we're okay now."

"i just want you to be happy about it," he says with a sniff. "we've been trying for so long, and finally…" he trails off, staring at you with watery eyes. 

you smile at him. "i am happy about it, junnie. i'm so happy, you can't even believe."

"did you tell seokmin?" he asks, and his brows furrow when you shake your head no.

"no, i didn't. i wanted you to be the first i told," you say shyly. "i knew you would want to be the first to know."

"i love you so much," he says, still hugging you. he's never going to let you go, never again. "do you know how far along?"

"no, i didn't go to the doctor. probably like two or three weeks, though, if i've been counting it right."

"wow," he sighs, a smile on his face as he stares off into the distance behind you. "i can't wait."

you watch his eyes, practically able to see the thoughts running through his head. 

after a while he loosens his grip around you, moving to swipe at his eyes quickly with the back of his hand. "well—anyway," he starts, giving you an awkward chuckle. "i bought stuff for breakfast. if you haven't had any, yet. and i'm making dinner tonight, too."

before you can even respond his eyes widen, like he's just now remembering all the things he had planned, and he lets go of you, bounding into the kitchen. he returns seconds later with a huge glass vase full of flowers, practically tripping over his own feet in his rush to hand them to you. "and i got these for you, too. sorry they're not the best, it's all the store had this morning."

"junnie, if this is the best the store had, then i don't think i wanna see their best," you laugh, holding the flowers up and admiring the dozens of bright blooms. "this is gorgeous, but you really didn't need to get me anything."

"but i wanted to," he counters, still running around the room to grab the gift bag sitting by the couch. "consider it an 'i'm very sorry' slash 'congrats you're having a baby' gift."

you set the vase down on the table next to you and take the bag from him, pulling out the tissue paper and crumpling it into a ball.

"i didn't have a whole lot of time to look this morning, but i found these," he says nervously, waiting for your reaction.

from the bag you pull out a miniature plastic hanger holding a set of tiny pajamas covered in little kitties, attached to a matching set of striped orange socks.

"i wanted to be the first person to get you baby clothes," he explains as he fidgets with his hands. 

"i knew you would," you smile at him, setting the empty bag and the clothes on the table along with the bouquet of flowers. "and they're perfect. they're so… you."

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him back in for another hug. "i love all of it. thank you, jun."

he grins, rocking you back and forth in his arms and leaving kisses all over your cheek. "i love you too, baby. i missed you so much. i won't ever do that again."

"i know," you smile. "now… you promised me breakfast, isn't that right? because i'm starving. crying is exhausting."

he laughs. "no crying anymore. and i did promise you that, so tell me: do you want blueberry waffles, or strawberry?"

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[literaryavenger]

I just saw a skating show and one of the guys looked like bucky and now I NEED a yn × figure skating partner bucky one shot. With them working on a throw and he's all mad she can't land it then gets hurt and all the angst and comforting. Omg please I'll cry I love you! ❤️

Ok, I have to admit this was my first ask and I got so excited that this got a little away from me. I'd like to say I'm sorry for not putting much technical stuff about figure skating in it but I know really nothing, I did my best researching stuff but it's still not much. I hope you're happy how it turned out, if not let me know! I really just took it and ran with it, I really hope you like it. 🥹❤️

also, sorry it took me a little but my keyboard broke and I had to wait for the new one because writing on the phone I would've made too many mistakes.

On Thin Ice - Bucky Barnes x y/n Stark

Summary: you're paired with Bucky Barnes for an important competition but your negative feelings towards each other make everything much more difficult. Figure Skating AU.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Stark reader

Warnings: Bucky being an ass. Reader gets hurt. Angst. Language cause why not. Minimal use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 6.6K

A/N: I didn't proof read it honestly, I was just excited to publish it. I'm going to double check it sometime tomorrow and edit it later! ❤️

Masterlist

Being a Stark isn't always easy.

Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not like you’re superheroes or anything, but being the daughter of Tony Stark meant that you always had to be not only on your best behavior but you had to be the best in general, no matter what you were doing.

It’s always been a lot of pressure growing up, but it's something you're used to at this point.

All your life there just wasn’t room for failure.

When you were little you hated it, sometimes even hated your dad for it, but you had to give it to him that it made you detail oriented and more driven and focused than most, so with time you came to be grateful for it.

His continuous badgering you into taking various lessons as a kid is also what led you to discover your passion: figure skating.

Skating was something that just somehow came naturally to you, and the more time you spent at the ice rink the more you fell in love with it.

You loved just spending hours going and going, to the point where the world blurred around you and you almost felt like you were flying.

After seeing how happy it made you, your father eased up a bit on you, but he still expected perfection, which you always worked hard to provide.

All you’ve always wanted was to make him proud of you. Which he was and never failed to mention, but you were still terrified of disappointing him.

All the pressure your last name came with was nothing compared to the pressure you put on yourself, you were always your hardest critic.

That is, at least, until you met Bucky Barnes.

You don't know why, maybe he just hates you and likes to humiliate you, but it seems like he always has something to say about your performances.

It all started the very first day you met, you were 18 at the ice rink your father decided to buy for you on your birthday the week before.

You were shocked to say the least when he told you, but he had always been better at showing his love rather than saying it, and don’t ever let it be said that Tony Stark didn’t love his daughter to death.

It was the same place where you skated for the first time when you were merely 5 years old, which you then changed for one closer to your home, but this one held so much more sentiment for you that the extra travel time was worth it, and it was also much bigger, the place where a lot of the important competitions happened. 

The Saturday after your birthday you finally had some free time having just finished exams week and finally being done with high school once and for all, so you planned to meet up with Natasha at the newly named ‘Stark’s snowland’.

Natasha was also a figure skater and you two have known each other since you were 8 years old, participating in almost a lot your competitions together, which usually ended with the two of you in first and second place.

Then Natasha started doing more and more couples competitions with various partners, but you were still always there to cheer for each other.

When she texted she was running late, you decided to just wait for her on the ice so you went inside, put on your skates and just got lost in your head, glad that the early hour meant nobody was around yet.

Then, after having done a few easy moves and having just finished an Axel, you heard some clapping coming from the entrance of the rink.

You stopped abruptly and looked for the source of the noise when you spotted a brunette cheering on you like he was at the Olympics standing beside a blonde that looked kind of embarrassed by his friends' antics.

"Didn’t realize I had an audience." you said, while moving towards them.

"Well, you should with the way you move out there." the brunette said, shamelessly checking you out shortly before receiving a smack behind his head, courtesy of blondie.

"Sorry about him. My name’s Steve," the blonde said while you tried hard not to laugh at the look his friend was giving him. "and this jerk here is Bucky." He pointed at his friend, who seemed to suddenly remember you were there because he turned to you with a charming smile while you introduced yourself.

"Is this your first time skating here?" Bucky asked "I’m sure I would remember a pretty face like yours." he then added, making you blush.

"I usually only come here for competitions, but-" before you could finish talking you heard the door behind them open and Natasha screaming "Stark!" making the boys turn around to look at her.

"Romanoff!" you greeted her, laughing.

Bucky turned back to you, face suddenly all serious, which confused you a lot since he was all flirty smiles until two seconds before. He mumbled something about having to go and almost ran away as fast as he could.

You looked at Steve who seemed as confused as you felt, gave you an apologetic smile and went after his friend. 

You didn’t have much more time to ponder on the sudden turn of events because Natasha was in her skates on record time and raring to go.

All you know is, for the rest of the day you felt Bucky’s eyes on you but every time you turned to him he had a stoic look on his face, and every word out of his mouth towards you was criticism on whatever you were doing.

And here we are now, 6 years later and nothing has changed.

Now 24 and having graduated college, you can be found at Stark’s almost everyday while you figure out the next phase of your life.

It’s honestly not bad, your dad wanted you to intern for him at Stark Industries during college so, after you graduated, you could start working for him full time, but that’s not what you wanted.

If you’re honest with yourself you do want to take over your father’s empire one day, just not yet.

You wanted to keep doing skating competitions, therefore all the free time that you had during college was spent skating. And so, as a compromise, your dad had you teach a few kid classes during the week when one of the teachers unexpectedly quit one day, and you happily agreed.

You did this for all the duration of college, after graduating you kept doing it and, to your father’s delight, took on even more classes to keep yourself a bit more occupied.

It was at the end of one of these classes that you were suddenly approached by Barnes today, which was very rare.

Usually both of you did your best to avoid each other, even when you started being there everyday, you wouldn’t give each other even a second glance, as far as you were concerned.

You’ve liked him when you first met him, but after months of him being nothing but an ass to you, you decided to stop trying and largely ignore him unless you were in a larger group that consisted of you, him, Steve, Natasha, Sam, another friend of theirs that you quickly became friends with, and Scott, a friend you made your first week of college.

Needless to say, you were baffled to see Bucky walk up to you and not immediately insult your behavior during the lesson that just ended, like he usually does when he gifts you with his presence. Instead he said "Hey Stark, can we talk?"

"Uhm… sure. What’s up, Barnes?" you say while starting to put down the cones you'll need for your next class.

"You know the couples competition that we’re having here in a few months?" he asks, following behind you. You think he looks nervous, which you find weird as Bucky Barnes is as confident as they come.

"Yeah, what about it?" You stop what you’re doing and turn around towards him, too curious to not give him all your attention.

"Well, I wanted to sign up, but it seems like I’m missing a partner.,," he says while rubbing his neck, almost embarrassed by what he’s asking.

"Don’t you usually team up with Nat?" you ask him.

"I do, but she’s gonna be out of town that day, and all the other girls are either paired up or not interested…" he explains, still not going to the point.

"Where are you going with this, Barnes?" You ask, crossing your arms in irritation at the time he was wasting while you still have things to do before your next class.

"Are you really going to make me ask?" he almost whines and, when you merely raise your eyebrow, a clearly amused face at his almost desperation, he finally gets to the point of his interruption. "Fine. Will you be my partner?"

Although you suspected where he was going, it's still a little shocking to hear him ask. Before you answer him though, you feel the need to tell him "You know I’ve never done pairs before, right? Not even outside of competitions."

"I know, but I also know you’re a fast learner." at your confused look, he elaborates "You’ve been training here for what, six years now? I’ve seen you learn pretty advanced moves in a crazy short amount of time for last minute competitions or even just for fun. And, whether I like it or not, you’re one of the best figure skaters I’ve ever met." he finishes.

That last sentence has you scoffing at him and starting to get annoyed at him "You don’t need to lie to me just to get me to agree just because you’re desperate for a partner."

"Why would you think I’m lying?" he says while having the audacity to look confused at your anger.

"You do nothing but criticize me all the time! The real question is, why would I ever think otherwise?"

"Just because I criticize you, doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re good!" he says it like was the most obvious thing in the world. "Please Y/N, I really need a partner, and, right now, you’re my only choice. Please." he adds at the end, just for good measure.

To be fair, Bucky had never been this polite or patient with you, and has never even called you by your first name, so it was clear that this was important to him, which is probably what led you to say yes.

He seemed happy for all of two seconds before going back to being the usual jerk, which made you instantly start to regret your decision, but you figured old habits die hard, you just had to be a little patient and he would get easier to work with the more he got used to this. 

Boy, were you wrong. 

For the next three months you met with Bucky three times a week, working out your routine and training sometimes even for hours.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before, but what really annoyed you to no end was finding out that Bucky’s favorite brand of training seemed to be complaining.

All he did was criticize every move you made, right or wrong, even the couples ones you were still learning.

You also found out that being so close to him for such long periods of time made you clumsier than ever, which did not at all help the situation.

All it took was for you to be near him enough to be surrounded by his cologne and suddenly you were falling more than usual, missing your cues and straight up forgetting the next steps of the routine, which only gave Bucky more fuel to add to the fire.

It also didn’t help that whenever Bucky asked you why you were so distracted you lost all your natural Stark sarcasm and could barely get out a sound, not knowing how to tell him even if you wanted to, which you definitely didn’t, that he was the problem.

But you somehow made it through it and, with a week to go before the competition, you had it down to a T.

Or almost.

"Damn it." you say, frustrated with yourself, after you almost fall again on the landing of the throw jump.

The problem with throw jumps is that Bucky has to pick you up and quite literally throw you in the air and, while he does that quite easily, being so close to him right before he throws you disorients you just enough to miss twists and fumble the landing.

A thing that you’d never tell Bucky, which at the moment is giving the most annoyed look you’ve ever seen on his stupidly pretty face.

"Seriously, Stark?!" He almost yells while skating closer to you. "Why the hell is this taking you so long to get right? You’ve done harder things than this both by yourself and with me, so what the hell is wrong with you?"

Like always, you don’t quite know how to respond to him, not even wanting to acknowledge the cause of your concentration problem.

"Let’s just try this again." You say, quieter than you normally would, and get in position.

Your back is turned to him but you can hear him sigh before you feel him move and position himself next to you. You nod at Scott who’s controlling the music, and he starts again.

Everything is going great, until, again you fumble the landing, but this time you fall on your knees. You can hear Scott shouting your name, so you hold a thumbs up to let him know you’re okay.

You can see Bucky getting closer to you with your peripheral vision, but don’t look up or even try to make a move to get up.

You can feel the tears starting to form in your eyes, not because it hurts, but because you’re so frustrated with yourself for not being able to do this.

You’re trying your hardest not to cry out of anger when you see Bucky’s hand in front of your face, a silent offer of help. The last thing you want to do right now is look at his stupid face, so you slap his hand away and get up on your own, ignoring Bucky almost altogether and putting yourself in position to start again from the top.

Bucky comes behind you, but this time you can feel him looking at you while he says, "We don’t have to go again. We can stop here for today." his voice much quieter than it's ever been before, which only fuels your anger more.

"The competition’s next week Barnes, unless you want us to make fools of ourselves, we need to do this until I get it right." You snapped, letting him see you angry for the first time since you started training.

He was a little shocked but didn’t say anything else while he got in position, signaling to Scott to start the music.

All you can think about at this point is the disappointment on your dad’s face if you don’t win the competition, or worse fall like you just did.

You’re not even focused on Bucky anymore, in fact you’re so distracted that you don’t even make it to the throw jump before you fall, except this time you can feel that something’s wrong as soon as you hit the ice.

You can feel pain shoot from your ankle through your whole body and get immediately dizzy, you could barely make out the lights on the ceiling, your eyes going in and out of focus.

You can hear yelling and, once you concentrated, you can make out Bucky's voice saying words like ‘stupid’ and ‘incompetent’, which made you wish you had just passed out so you wouldn’t have to hear him insult you.

Your mind seemed to clear a little and you realized your tears finally started falling at some point, but you didn’t have much time to ponder on that before you were being helped to your feet, Scott telling you he was taking you to the hospital and everything was going to be okay.

You realized Bucky was no longer next to you before you even realized you didn’t have skates on anymore and were barefoot, but you just assumed he was too mad at you to care about your ankle.

-

You’re sitting in a hospital bed with a stomp on your left foot when your dad walks in, worry all over his face.

"Hey junior, are you okay?" you roll your eyes at his nickname, surely you don’t expect Tony Stark to be any less sarcastic seeing you well enough, but you’ve begged him to drop the stupid nickname which he refuses to because ‘but you’re just like me, it's a compliment!’

"I’m okay dad, just have to wear this for a few days." you say, pointing to your foot on a pillow.

"Good. Wanna tell me what happened?" he asks, taking a seat beside your bed.

"Just landed wrong while practicing the routine with Barnes. Too distracted, kept fucking up landings." you tell him, not daring to look in his eyes.

"Pushing yourself too hard?"

He surprises you with this question, but you promptly answer it. "If I was, I would’ve been able to land all my moves correctly. If anything I’m not pushing myself hard enough."

You can’t look at his face just to see the disappointment at your failure, but when you feel his hand on yours you force yourself to look into his eyes, and, to your surprise, there's no hint of disappointment.

"You know, sweetheart, I do mean it when I say you’re just like me. And there is nothing more heartbreaking to me than looking at you and seeing the same self-destructive tendencies I have reflected on you." he wipes a tear you hadn’t realized was falling from your cheek and keeps going. "I hate that I passed that on to you. I should’ve been more careful with you. I thought that letting you know I was proud was enough, unlike my dad, but maybe I should’ve been more specific."

"What do you mean?" you ask, sniffling a bit.

"I’m not proud of you because you always come first in competitions, or because you get the highest grades. I’m proud of you because I know you always try your best and put all of yourself into everything you do. That’s what being a Stark is all about. Plus you’re my daughter so let’s be honest, I’d love you to death even if you were a high school dropout who deals fake drugs to college kids."

You laughed while drying your tears, grateful for your father’s inability to stay serious for too long.

You hug him and say "Thanks, dad. I needed that more than I thought."

You let go of him and tell him about the real reason you couldn’t concentrate: the long-haired asshole with eyes so blue you felt like you were flying in the sky while looking at them, and like you were drowning the second he opened his mouth to say shit about you.

Of course you didn’t put it on those exact terms, but your dad was pretty good at reading between the lines.

By the end he had a smirk that made you want to legally change your name and run away because you just know he’s never going to let you live this down.

"Well, sounds like he’s really something." that’s all he says, weirdly. You eye him suspiciously but he doesn’t add to his sentence.

In fact, he doesn’t say anything more about it until he’s helped you get comfortable on your bed back home.

"You know…" he starts "little boys pull little girls’ pigtails on the playground to get their attention, because they don’t know what else to do." he says.

"Yeah, boys are stupid, so what?" you deadpan and he laughs then surprisingly says "Exactly. Maybe you’re not the only one that feels something here. Maybe there’s a stupid boy that can’t take his eyes off of you, but doesn’t know how to get your attention other than criticize you." he says, clearly happy with where he ended.

"Is this your long way of saying that you think Bucky likes me the same way I like him?" You raise an eyebrow at him.

"This is my long way of saying don’t be a stubborn Stark and try actually talking to him about this. You’d be surprised how fast stupid boys grow up just to keep the girl they want. Just ask your mother." and with that he leaves with a wink, leaving you wondering how much more immature Tony Stark could’ve been to have to grow up enough to sweep Pepper Potts off her feet.

You spend the next few days as a little ball of anxiety on your bed, not being able to do much but overthink about Bucky, only getting a break when Scott came to keep you company.

The day before the competition you've enough and convince Scott to drive you to the ice rink, knowing Bucky was probably there.

When you get there you can hear music but you don’t think much of it until you get right in front of the door and realize it was the song you and Bucky chose. Frowning, you open the door and what you see makes your jaw drop.

There they are, Bucky and Natasha, doing your routine.

You don’t know when you got closer to the rink, but you cannot take your eyes off of them, that is until you hear someone beside you say "they’re good, aren’t they?"

You turn your head to see Sam and Steve, the latter looking at you in a knowing way that almost seems apologetic of Sam’s words, the effect of which Sam doesn’t seem to notice.

You always felt like Steve could see right through you when it came to Bucky, always looking at you like he knew exactly how you felt and how much his words hurt you.

Seemingly reading all the questions swimming in your mind right now, Steve offers you some answers.

"Natasha came back early from her vacation. He brought her up to speed and she agreed to help him out. They’ve been practicing non-stop everyday since the day after you got hurt." Feeling like you have enough information, you turn back to the ice. 

You watch them work in sync, almost like they're connected by wires and one can’t move without taking the other with them.

You watch as Bucky picks up Nat effortlessly and throws her like she's made of air. You watch as she moves so gracefully that it's almost surreal. You see her land every jump perfectly.

Again. And again. And again.

Every jump, every twist, every second you watch them something inside you brokes more.

You don’t know why, Natasha has been Bucky’s partner countless times before and it never mattered to you, and you’ve only skated with him for less than four months.

Maybe it was the fact that they're using the routing you and Bucky had come up with together, maybe you feel replaced.

Maybe it was the fact that you were coming here to talk to Bucky about your feelings and now you were seeing him flying around the ice rink as close with another girl as he was with you, maybe even closer.

They finish the routine and you can hear Bucky’s laughter, you can see his smile as he tells Natasha how perfect she was, how impressed he is at how fast she picked up everything, how glad he is that she showed up when she did.

Then it hits you.

Of course he’s glad she showed up. He never wanted to do this with you, you weren’t even a second choice, it took literally every other girl he knows to be unavailable for him to even think to ask you.

Why wouldn’t he be happy to have her back? He certainly never acted like this with you. He never laughed, barely even smiled...

He didn’t choose you, he got stuck with you.

Suddenly, it’s like everything he’s ever done, everything he’s ever said to you comes crashing down on you all at once.

It’s like you can actually hear your heart breaking and there’s only one thought on your mind: He likes Natasha.

It makes sense, the first day you met he seemed into you, right up until he saw her and the second he turned around he was done with you.

Maybe he started to be an ass just to make that clear, not wanting to actually say anything. After all, he always was very nice to Nat. To everyone but you really.

And it’s not like you could blame him, Natasha’s always been better than you. Growing up she was always your only competition, it’s a fortune you ended up friends really, considering how easy it could’ve been for you to hate each other.

She’s the reason you spent so much time trying to be better, and you’d like to say it was the same for her, but you doubt it very much.

She’s always been prettier, thinner, stronger, smarter, better with boys and at making friends. She was the obvious choice.

Of course she was Bucky’s choice.

You didn’t realize you were so deep in your thoughts, or that you were still staring at them, until you feel a hand on your shoulder and hear Sam’s worried voice asking if you were okay.

You look at Steve and Sam and all you want to do is get out of here. It was already a miracle you weren’t already crying.

Without saying a word you turn around and walk away as fast as you can with the damn stump on your foot. You aren’t fast enough though, because halfway to the door you hear Bucky’s voice, much too close to you to your liking, calling your name.

For a second you think you hear something seeming happiness in his voice, but quickly dismiss the idea and try to keep going, but then you feel his hand on your wrist turning you around to face him.

His face seems to instantly fall as he looks at you and all you can think about is how sick you are of being the only one that takes his smile away.

"What’s wrong?" he asks in a weirdly soft tone, but you can’t find the voice to answer him.

You two just stare at each other until you hear someone clear their throat behind Bucky, and you look over his shoulder just as Natasha starts talking.

"Hi, Stark. Heard what happened to you." she nods towards your foot "Sorry I haven’t been to visit you, we’ve been pretty busy."

You don’t look at her while you answer, turning your eyes back to Bucky, who’s still holding your wrist, while you say "I can see that. Don’t worry, Romanoff, I’m just glad Barnes finally has a partner that’s not incompetent."

All he does is stare confusedly at you, which makes you angry enough to yank your hand away from him, turn around and walk away, ignoring the calls of your name behind you.

You miss the sadness on Bucky’s face, or the way he questions Sam and Steve about everything you said and did since the second you entered.

Bucky, on the other hand, did not miss the tears starting to fall down your cheeks as you turn away.

You decide not to go to the competition the following day. It would be the first time you voluntarily miss one of Nat’s competitions, but you don’t feel like having a replay of yesterday’s show when it’s already been on replay in your mind all night.

Your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends. Nat and Steve being the only ones that understand, even though they’re not very happy about it.

Another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by the group is how much more agitated than normal Bucky seems to be.

Even during competitions, he’s usually very calm, but today the only thing that makes him stop pacing around the room is Natasha’s sharp ‘would you sit down’ that makes him sigh and sit next to her on the bleachers where they’re waiting for their turn.

He can’t seem to keep his body still as he starts to bounce his leg up and down out of nerves, and can’t seem to stop even when the redhead gets up abruptly with an exasperated ‘for the love of god’ and goes to sit further from him and near Sam, exchanging seats with Steve, who puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, effectively bringing out of his head and making his body still with another sigh.

"You know, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to." Steve tells his anxious friend.

"You know I have to Steve. Otherwise Fury won't let me do other couples competitions."

"I know, but the whole reason you started doing them was for the chance to pair up with Y/N, which never even happened until now." Steve points out while frowning.

"I’m not the one that chooses the pairs, Rogers, it’s always Fury. He’s the whole reason Romanoff and I worked so hard this week just so she could do this. Plus Y/N’s never been interested in these competitions so this whole idea was just stupid to begin with. Now after I finally convince her, she gets hurt and thinks I think she’s incompetent, for some reason." Bucky hasn't been able to stop thinking about what you said yesterday.

Why would you ever think he thinks you're incompetent? He knows he's been a dick to you for years, but never has he ever said you were incompetent.

It's really just constructive criticism given in a poor way. A very poor way... Yeah, he really just has himself to blame for the way you feel about him now, he knows it.

He doesn't even really have a justification for it, either. If he's being honest with himself, he's intimidated by you.

The first time he saw you he thought you were the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, you were so graceful on skates and looked like you were exactly where you belong, lost in your own little world.

Then when Natasha said your name, he realized who he was talking to: the daughter of one of the richest families in town.

He'd heard a lot about you and your family, your impressive achievements on and off the ice. He's ashamed to say he felt small all of a sudden, knowing just from hearing about you that he'd never be good enough for you.

Still, he couldn't help but be drawn to you, couldn't help but watch you as much as he could get away with, but the only way he could justify that without being seen as a creep was to criticize what you did. It made sense, right?

Bucky is pulled from his thoughts, again, by Steve’s voice.

"Well, you were basically yelling that at her when she got hurt last week." at his words Bucky's just as confused as he was yesterday when you stormed out.

"I didn’t…" then it hits him. "I wasn’t talking about her! I was talking about Scott because he wouldn’t hurry up!"

"Oh. Listen, buddy, we both know you like her. You fucked up, big time, and it’s gonna take a lot to get her to forgive you. You could start by stop being an ass to her and apologize." Bucky knows the blonde is right.

It will take a miracle just to get you to look in his direction, let alone allow him to apologize, but he has to at least try to make things right.

He stands up suddenly, startling Steve, and says, "you were there for all our rehearsals, right? You know the routine?"

Steve is confused, but answers with a slow "yeah, why?" but Bucky gives no further explanation, too busy picking up all his stuff.

When Steve puts together what his friend is hinting at, he quickly says "I didn’t mean right now!"

"No time like the present! Go change." he says, nudging Steve toward the changing rooms.

"Buck, if you go now Fury’s gonna kill you!"

"I don’t care!" he yells, basically running out the door and ignoring Natasha yelling his name, the only thing on his mind being running to you as fast as he could. 

Every thought in his head, though, is instantly forgotten as he comes to a sudden stop at the top of the stairs outside of the rink.

There, at the bottom, is you, looking just as shocked at seeing him there as he feels.

After a few moments of just looking at each other, you can’t take it anymore and decide to break the silence. "I didn’t know if I should come in. Didn’t know if Nat wanted my support after I was so rude, you know."

When he doesn’t say anything and just stares at you, you feel the need to keep going.

"What are you doing out here? Did I miss your turn? How did it go?" that seems to snap him out of it and he starts to move towards you, still not saying anything and making you even more nervous as you start regretting coming here.

When he comes face to face with you, finally, he speaks. "I was gonna come looking for you." your brows furrowed in confusion.

"why?"

"I have owed you an apology for a long time now. I’m sorry for being a dick to you for all these years… it really wasn’t about you. I just felt insecure and acted out about it, and eventually I felt so used to it I couldn’t help it..."

You were shocked to say the least, this was the last thing you were expecting tonight. "You felt insecure? Why?"

"Because you’re you!" he almost yelled, gesturing to your whole body and startling you a bit. "I mean you’re a Stark, you’re kind of a legend who lives up to the legend. You’re smart and talented and confident and beautiful. I never thought I’d be good enough for you... I still don’t."

You don't know what to say, but you aren't running for the hills so Bucky keeps talking. "I’d also like to make it clear that I’ve never called you incompetent. I was talking about Lang, that idiot took ages to get his keys to drive you to the hospital. I didn’t even realize you might’ve heard me until Steve pointed it out to me just now while we were waiting our turn and I just had to find you and tell you."

Once everything he said actually registered in your brain, the words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. "Wait, you left the competition to come find me? Natasha’s gonna kill you!"

He chuckles a little while saying, "I’d be more worried about Fury."

"Fury?" You're confused again. "Why would you be worried about Fury?"

"He’s gonna be pissed that I left. He’s the whole reason Romanoff and I trained so hard to make it here, I wanted to skip it after you got hurt, but he said if I did he wouldn’t let me do any more pairs."

"I thought this competition was important to you, that’s the whole reason I said yes. And you wanted to quit it?" You're more confused than ever.

"It was important because it was my chance to finally spend time with you." he says, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I’d rather not do our routine at all if I can’t do it with you." he adds, shrugging. 

"really?" you can’t help but smile at hearing him say ‘our routine’ "But you and Nat work much better than you and I do."

"perphabs, but I still think you’re the best there is. Even when it’s with me, a person you hate." He says the last part while looking at his feet, almost afraid of saying it aloud and perfectly aware that he’s the reason why.

"I don’t hate you." you say, almost too fast.

His eyes snap back up to yours. "You don’t? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’d hate me if I were you."

"Sure, I don’t always love the things you say about my skills, but you’ll never criticize me more than I criticize myself. Mostly, you’re just a distraction." you say shrugging, not fully realizing what you just confessed.

"I distract you?" he says with a smug smirk that kind of makes you want to punch him, bringing his hand to your cheek.

You groan but let him keep it there, loving the feeling of his warm hand against your skin. "Don’t get cocky with me, Barnes."

He laughs, but doesn’t say anything else waiting for you to elaborate with an expectant look.

"Fine." you sigh. "Yes, you distract me. You might be a jerk, but I can’t concentrate when I’m around you. All I can think about is the sound of your voice, and the way you smell and the color of your stupid pretty eyes... I can’t help but like you, no matter how much of an asshole you are to me, for reasons I’m sure have something to do with my father."

He laughs again at your last sentence and you swear you’d never heard a better sound. "So I guess I should be thankful for you daddy issues, huh." he says making you laugh with him.

"Yeah, you very much should be." you put your arms around his neck when his hand drops from your face and his arms wrap around your waist. 

"You distract me too, you know. Everytime you’re in the room you’re all I can see..." He sighs. "I’ll never apologize enough for all the things I said to you, but let me try. Let me take you on a date, for starters."

You pretend to think about it all of two seconds before you’re nodding with a smile, so he adds, "What about right now?"

"Slow down there, Romeo, why don’t we go cheer on our friends first." you giggle at his pout while you take his hand and lead the way inside.

When you take a seat next to Sam, just in time to hear the announcement of Natasha and Steve’s names, there's no wiping the smile off of Bucky’s face. His arm goes immediately around your shoulders to bring you closer as you greet Sam that had a knowing grin of his own.

You watch your friends go through the routine perfectly, to your joy and surprise. You really are proud of them, and you make sure to tell them when they are close enough to the edge of the ice while waiting for their score.

"Maybe after we can all go out to eat something." Steve suggests, still slightly out of breath.

"I’m sorry, punk. I have a date that I’m not missing for anything in the world." Bucky answers without taking his eyes away from you, his smile seared onto his face.

Steve chuckles at how whipped his friend already seems to be, moving closer to the judges with Nat when it was time for their scores.

Second place, not bad for a last minute thing.

As you cheer for your friends while they're given their medals, Bucky leans down and whispers in your ear "we would’ve come first."

You burst laughing and Bucky known in this exact moment that he would do anything to hear that sweet sound for the rest of his life.

You look up at him and raise your voice just enough for him to hear over all the screaming, with a smile big enough to match his "We totally would’ve."

#bucky barnes #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x you #sam wilson #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes au #tony stark x daughter reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #avengers au #bucky barnes x reader #dad!tony stark #mcu au #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes imagine #marvel au #y/n stark #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fanfiction #literaryavenger's request

[hard-core-super-star]

make every mistake [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you run into your ex at the vanity fair party, almost a full year after your breakup, and are forced to accept some hard truths.

warnings: technically none; bitter exes being bitter but also getting distracted; A LOT of references to cheating [very open to interpretation, though; more than one reference to JA; rubix please get over sunkissing challenge; did not proofread at all so it might not make the most sense at times; does this count as a ventfic?

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: i was supposed to be writing something else [what a surprise lmao] but...it's sunkissing's anniversary and unfortunately, that song still means a lot to me and i needed to be nostalgic for a second. plus, last year's vanity fair party is what inspired me to start writing fanfiction again so...consider this a very weird, bitter, and nostalgic first anniversary celebration. i hope you enjoy and thank you so much for your love, support, and patience this past year, i plan to continue writing for you guys for a LONG while <3 [and yes, this is sunkissing (sad girl edition)]

* * * * * * * Whoever coined the phrase,”wrong place, right time,” as a good thing seriously owes you some compensation. It implies that there could be something possibly good in the situation you’re in but what could be good about being stuck at the same party your ex is also at?

Of course, that person might get along with your friends who have been trying to convince you that this situation is a fantastic opportunity for you to show how happy you are. Something that would work if it were true.

But it’s not.

How could happiness be anywhere on your radar when every time you interact with someone, they’re quick to remind you your ex-girlfriend is currently parading around with a quarterback? Not to mention, the amount of cheating rumors hasn’t been helping you feel much better about the situation.

Maybe you’re overly petty or arrogant, maybe even codependent, but time has done little to heal the wounds caused by a certain actress.

Which is why you were supposed to be out having fun in the first place…although maybe all of this could have been avoided if a certain 22-year-old hadn’t lied her ass off and told you there was no chance in hell your ex would show up.

All you know is you’re stuck in a room full of people you don’t care about, anxiously looking around every few minutes hoping you won’t run into her. It’s exhausting but it’s also highly addictive.

You’re in the middle of debating ditching Billie and the rest of your friends instead of torturing yourself for another hour when you catch a glimpse of the person you’ve been trying to avoid all night. 

Your eyes find her for just a few seconds and yet the whole world seems to stop all at once. 

Just like the first time.

You wouldn’t say you have a habit of romanticizing the past…except when it comes to Hailee Steinfeld and her ridiculously enchanting energy. A lot of things have changed since the day you met but the one thing you’re sure will remain a part of you forever is the way your heart takes off running when she's around.

Running away would be easy. It would probably be the solution to your impending problem and yet you stay. Because as much as you hate to admit it…you’ve missed her. Seeing just a glimpse of her feels like ecstasy after spending so long trying to erase the thought of her from your mind.

You know you’re chasing after someone who isn’t even there anymore, someone who vanished the day Hailee chose to go out to dinner with that guy instead of coming home to you. The person you love has been shoved back into far more closets than you can count but you’re an addict and the thought of getting her back for just a few minutes gives you a greater high than anything else ever could.

So, despite the thousands of reasons not to, you find yourself walking toward her. You tell yourself it’ll be fine, she’s in the middle of ordering a drink and the chances of her paying attention to you are close to zero.

You quickly learn close to zero isn’t enough.

You arrive at the bar right when she’s turning around to go back to whoever it is she’s pretending to get along with tonight. Her eyes instantly find yours and whatever liquid courage you had fades away in that very same instant.

For a second, you expect her to walk away without even acknowledging your presence, but then her mouth opens. “I can’t believe you actually left the house for this.”

There were a thousand sentences you were hoping to hear her say and the one she chose is nowhere on it. It does nothing except remind you of all the infuriating reasons why you can’t be around her anymore.

“Gee thanks, don’t sound too excited.”

She merely shrugs, acting like she can’t see the way your smile drops. “Just being honest.”

At some point in your relationship, you would have made fun of her for sounding so much like the characters she loves to play on TV but today, her attitude pisses you off like nothing else.

“Honest, huh?” You scoff. “That's gold coming from the cheater.”

There’s a flash of something in her eyes, mostly annoyance, and you know damn well that’s exactly what you’re looking for. A sign that she’s still human despite how much she loves to pretend like she doesn’t have feelings anymore.

Unfortunately, you’re sure her reaction has more to do with the fact that you’re in a room full of people who could overhear you than anything else.

“Oh, come on. I didn't cheat on you,” she says in the exact same tone as all the times before.

“Right, right, you just casually had dinner with your new boyfriend while we were still dating.”

A crack begins to form in her facade but you’re too annoyed to celebrate. 

All she does is groan before placing her drink down on the bar and coming toward you. She wraps her hand around your arm, seemingly unaware of the sparks her touch ignites, and drags you toward the first secluded area she finds.

“Are we seriously going to have this fight again?” She questions you once you’re away from prying eyes.

“Sure,” you reply. “The only thing we ever do is fight.”

“Stop acting like I’m the only one in the wrong here. We both made mistakes.”

You scoff. “You’re right, I trusted you wholeheartedly. What a stupid mistake.”

“Oh my God.” She throws her hands up, frustration dripping out of her every pore, and yet she makes no move to walk away from you. “You haven’t changed one bit.”

“Changing isn’t always such a good thing. Just ask Martini and Brando, I bet they love the weather in Buffalo.”

It’s another cheap shot and you know it. Most of all, you see it. The flash of hurt that lingers in the eyes you know so well. 

“Don’t,” she warns.

You can’t stop yourself from adding more fuel to the fire despite her warning. “Why? Is that more honesty than you can handle?”

“y/n, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re right, I don’t know. Because I have no idea who you are anymore.”

It suddenly strikes you that you’ve had the same exact conversation with her before. You don’t know why you keep doing the same thing and hoping for a different ending. Especially considering Hailee is the most stubborn person you’ve ever met.

“You’re not the only one,” she says with a sigh, practically deflating in front of your eyes. “Believe it or not, you’re not the only person I’ve disappointed lately.”

“No offense but that’s the most accurate thing you’ve said in a while.”

A small chuckle escapes her and the sound instantly brings you back to simpler times. To spontaneous dates at the beach, random car drives to the middle of nowhere to watch the sunset, sleepless nights spent helping her rehearse for an early morning shoot the next day.

To being in love.

Back when your love actually mattered.

“Do you ever regret it?” You find yourself whispering into the space between you after a long silence. “Regret us?”

Her answer might split you in two but you're tired of the desperation that clings to you from the sheer amount of unsaid things that still linger in your mind. 

“No,” she replies, her voice so quiet you almost miss it. “I regret how things ended, I regret what I did to you…do you?”

You shake your head before you can stop yourself, the truth spilling out of you just as fast as the tears that painted your face the day she left. “I regret…how much I love you…how impossible it is for me to hate you.”

For a split second, you catch sight of the Hailee you once fell in love with. The one with warm eyes and the softest smile imaginable. The one who could easily break your walls down with a single chuckle. 

“Give it a few days,” she replies. “It’ll stop being so impossible.”

 It’s ridiculous how enamored her words make you. It’s also stupid and infuriating that no matter how badly you want to walk away from her, you can’t find a way to make your feet move. You’re stuck and that growing smirk on her face tells you she knows exactly how much you’re struggling.

“No witty comeback?” She questions, her head tilting slightly to the side in an almost mocking gesture.

“I’m just trying to decide if I should slap you or not.” Your words hold no real bite to them, even if you wish they did, and you both have to pretend neither of you notice the way you lean toward her.

Her eyes betray her as they slide down your face until they reach your lips. Her gaze rests there for longer than would be appropriate for an exchange between old friends. But you’re not old friends. You’re something more. Something that exceeds categories and reasons.

Something that rests completely in the space between your mouths.

It should be easy to turn away from her…but it isn’t…and you can’t stop yourself from meeting her half-way when she leans in close enough for you to feel her breath on your lips.

It’s a mistake.

But it’s one you make as easily as falling in loving her.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

[writingwithfolklore]

Taking Notes from Editors

I did a post on giving and receiving feedback, but now that I’ve been an editor for a little longer, I’d like to do a follow up on taking feedback specifically from professional editors.

                While ultimately writers are the rulers of their work and can make the final decisions on it, there's a lot of growth in your manuscript to be found by trusting your editor and taking their notes. As an editor, it’s my job to make your work as good as it can possibly be. It’s also my job to maintain your style and voice and make sure everything you do best shines the brightest.

                We’ve studied and practiced this goal. So the biggest thing I want to impart on you is:

1. Trust your editor

Go into the process with the mindset that you'll accept at least 85% of the edits your editor suggests. When another editor works on my writing, I accept about 95% of it, sometimes %100 (for shorter pieces).

Writers sometimes get hung up on the smallest changes an editor tries to make. Be careful not to be too precious, allow your work to be explored from a different perspective and lens.

You can always keep a separate doc that has your original piece, it doesn’t go away or get ruined when an editor works on it. While it's your work in the end, it's helpful to go into it with an open mind. Often feedback you may have never considered is the key to really elevating your piece. Make some room for your editor's opinion and expertise, trust your editor.

2. Choose your battles

If you are going to reject a suggestion, I recommend it be something really worth going to bat for. Choose your battles, and choose only the biggest ones. You ultimately know your work best, so fight only for the stuff you believe is integral to keeping the same.

This will be an easier battle to win if you’ve already accepted the vast majority of other suggestions. Does it really matter if your main character’s name is Jolene or Veronica? Maybe not, so take that suggestion so you can afford to keep her queerness, or the subplot about her mother, etc.

But going back to the trust your editor idea, don’t think about it as a battle. We are not on opposite sides, we’re both fighting for the same thing—to make your work the best it can be. Respectfully acknowledge a suggestion you don’t like, give it a day or two to think on it, and then decide if that’s something you’d really like to advocate for.

As an editor, when a writer has a solid justification for rejecting a suggestion it helps me understand their work better, and builds trust between us.

3. It’s okay you’re not perfect

Sometimes as a writer receiving feedback, my impulse is to be embarrassed I’ve done something ‘wrong’. Then, of course, I go to defend myself or justify it or attack. We don’t like feeling threatened, and it can cause some high tempers and nasty disagreements in the editing world.

It’s really important that you recognize that impulse to defend yourself, and choose not to react to it.

By that I mean, if you feel yourself getting defensive over a piece of feedback—take a deep breath, don’t answer it right away. You don’t need to explain yourself. Think on it for a bit, just try it out. See what happens when you make that change. If you still hate it, think about why. If you’re just rejecting it on impulse, you’re probably in that “defend” state.

                You’re not being attacked, and you’re not a bad writer. It’s okay if you’ve made a decision that didn’t land, or a mistake that’s kind of embarrassing.

                As an editor, I can assure you that I don’t judge my writers. Ever. When I make suggestions, it��s from a pure ‘just trying to help’ standpoint, and I really appreciate when my writers are open to my suggestions and ideas and accept or reject my suggestions with friendliness and grace.

                I’m not a super experienced editor in any way, but if anyone has any questions about the editing process, the job, or anything else about it, I will do my best to answer!

Next post we're going to talk about when to reject a suggestion or feedback because the editor/reader isn't always right. Follow to catch that when it's out!

#writing #writers #creative writing #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #filmmaking #books #film #writing advice #editor ama #taking notes from editors #editing #receiving feedback #feedback #ama

[corazondebeskar-reads]

remember what you're staring at is me

jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 8 - found footage | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 2.9k

summary: A videotape is left on your porch one morning, and it changes everything about your budding relationship with Joel Miller.

warnings: Jackson!Joel, some dark!Joel, some soft!Joel, we love a man who contains multitudes, ambiguous ending, I wish I had made this a much longer one shot but oh well, references to The Hospital Incident, oral (f & m receiving), implicit p in v

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You find it on your porch one morning in an old paper bag. Someone’s written right onto the brown wrapping with black crayon—”you need to know the truth.” It seems rather dramatic once you peel back the paper to find a videotape. 

It's not high quality—the footage is fuzzy and crudely edited together. But there’s just no mistaking the man on the screen. 

Joel and Ellie came into your life when they arrived for the second time in Jackson. You had heard the gossip the first time, but never met the pair. 

You met him fairly quickly when he swung by with a torn jacket, gruff and blunt but polite. Steady. “They, uh, said to ask you about some mending?” 

“Sure thing,” you say easily, smiling at the very handsome stranger. “Let me take a look.”

It was a casual thing, the sewing, and you liked it that way. You didn’t make anything, didn’t haul things to the market. You spun the wool for those who did craft things, and then you kept to your little projects at night.

The push and pull of the needle was the meditation you needed to keep going every day, even now, even safe here in this bubble. Something productive, something to keep your trembling hands busy and your mind blank. 

And in return, you got company and conversation. Most folks knew your services could be bought with a warm drink or baked good, a promise of a favor you’d never call for.

“How long?” he asks, voice flat and serious, but it didn’t prick at you, didn’t land as rough as it set out. 

“Not long,” you muse, looking over the tear—a knife gash of some sort, and the thin lining that peeked out. “Ten minutes if you just want it sewn up, or if you give me a day, I can get it properly stuffed.”

“Sewn, please.” 

Please. You like that. Manners at the end of the world. 

“You sure? Be a lot warmer if I fill it out.” 

“I don’t—” he scowls at the ground. “I barely have anythin’ to offer ya for the mending.”

You want to tell him it’s on the house, call it a welcome basket, but he’s holding out what he does have to offer and your jaw drops just a little, lips parting to make way for a soft, pleased “oh” that has him straightening up. 

“I can find somethin’ else,” he says.

“Oh, no. That’s… amazing,” you say, taking the jar into your hands and popping the lid. They certainly aren’t potent, not like you remember, but oh, you could die from just the faint smell of the cinnamon sticks. “This is… more than enough. I’ll owe you, I reckon.”

“I dunno about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Seriously,” you say, eyes wide. You set the jar on the counter. “For that, I’ll get the whole thing done tonight.” After all, the delay had only been so you could go to bed. 

“Y’ain’t got to do that, I don’t mean to be a bother.”

You brush him off and start gathering your supplies. If you steep the thread in tea for a bit, you think, you might be able to get close to the color of the fabric.

He turns down a cup when you offer but does take a seat at the table. He’s as stiff as your late husband’s favorite bourbon, but the blunt edges grow a little duller when you don’t try to keep up small talk.

The bright overhead light casts him in shadow, deepening the circles under his eyes and drooping his wrinkles in inky black. But his eyes are bright and curious as he watches you start to add unspun wool from your stockpile into the jacket, trying to shape and layer it evenly through the inside. You have to make a couple incisions but keep them tight to the hemlines and existing stitching.

The thread dries quickly with the hearth raging and he speaks for the first time as you weave it through the needle’s eye.

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a threader,” you say, offering it to him to see after you’ve pulled it loose. “I, um. I’m not as dexterous as I used to be and I can’t say my sight’s as keen, either. Makes it easier to use these damn tiny needles. Luckily, it wasn’t a very in-demand item when people were raiding shops.” 

“Huh,” is all he says, sliding it back across the table to you. 

The stitching is quick and rote. You’re used to people pouring out their life stories and desires and drama when they sit at your table or on your sofa, feet kicked up on your coffee table while you sew. 

But this silence with Joel is warm, too. You’re almost regretful the job didn’t take longer.

You stand up and he follows, pushing his chair neatly back into its place. He takes the coat and runs a gentle finger across the original wound.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. 

You give him a wan smile, never having found those words to settle right in your skin. “Nice meeting you, Joel,” you say instead. “You know where to find me if you need anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and lets himself out. 

You lock the door behind him and wonder why you feel so energized. That tea was decaf, after all. And a little fuzzy, if you were totally honest, but you weren’t going to dump it down the drain just over a few fibers. 

One day when he comes, it’s with a bundle of thick socks and another, smaller jacket. Not a difficult job, but the gift he brings to trade knocks you off kilter so hard that you have to sit down.

“Not sure if it’ll be any use to you, but figured you’d know someone who can use it if you don’t,” he says, looking at the floor.

You’ve gotten to know him a little better, though his visits are few and far between. But he’s gotten more comfortable around town, more interested in following that wild daughter of his than hiding away. 

Sometimes, he’ll even sit at your table in the mess. You’d even go as far to say that the two of you were friends.

So you can tell what he’s trying so hard not to project. He’s nervous.

It looks almost like a desk lamp with its sturdy base and bent wooden arm, but in place of a shade and bulb is a hoop. You recognize it immediately and your stomach swoops. It’s an embroidery stand and you might faint just from that, just from having a steady way to hold the fabric tight as you sew. 

But that isn’t all. He shows you how to turn the peg that loosens the grip of the handle on the side, a raw hewn thing that doesn’t match the worn stain of the stand. You’re burning, head spinning, and the fuzzy darkness at the edges of the world stop you from focusing on the gift. 

The carved handle, he says, with hands curling around either side of you, has been partially hollowed to accommodate the end of the magnifying glass. You can raise and lower it with the peg and rotate the handle to use the other side of the glass.

“Joel,” you say uncertainly. He doesn’t really seem like he’ll want the attention drawn to it, but you have to know. “Did you make that?”

“Nah,” he scoffs. “Just added the glass is all.”

“Just added the glass,” you echo in a whisper. But you know he doesn’t mean he only attached it. He made the entire attachment and fit it onto the stand. 

His ears are red and he won’t look at you. 

You set a cautious hand on his arm where it reaches across your shoulder, still resting on the table. He’s caging you in from where he leaned over to demonstrate. “Joel, this is incredible. This is… this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Ain’t a big deal,” he mumbles but he doesn’t shake off your hand. “Just saw it and thought it might be useful.”

You feel emboldened by his kindness, so you curl your hand around his bicep. “Can I thank you?”

He looks down at you now, seeking something that he must find, confirmation in your blown out pupils and parted lips, and nods. 

He doesn’t break away as you slip from the chair to sink onto your knees or when your fingers loop around his belt to pry it open. 

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” you say, voice tight. 

He shakes his head. “You’re not.” His voice is the rumble of thunder breaking a tense summer night. 

You don’t bother removing his belt, simply knocking it open to reach for his zipper. 

You’re about to tug his pants down when the door opens. 

“Hey sugar,” Tommy drawls, “all my fuckin boxers have holes. Can you help a guy out? Promise they’re cle—“

His loud mouth gave just enough warning for Joel to pull his shirt down over his belt and for you to fumble at rolling the cuff of one pant leg up just so, reaching for a pin. 

“Oh hey, Joel!” Tommy says happily. “Finally fixin’ those ratty old things?” 

It’s a fucking miracle that he’s in these jeans, his favorites. Actually, it’s not, he wears them all the time, and they’re just a little too long so the bottoms are torn up. 

“Guess so,” Joel scowls. He’ll have to finally let you hem them now. 

“Just leave ‘em on the table, Tommy,” you say around the needle between your teeth. “And tell Maria to stop bein’ so rough with them.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “She can’t help it, sugar. I’m irresistible, see?” He claps his brother on the back and takes his leave. 

You slump a little, sighing as you set the needle on the table before moving to resume your activity. 

But Joel steps back. “I should get goin’,” he says. The line between his brow is cavernous and his lips are tugged down at the corners. 

“Oh. Okay,” you say, and pull yourself up with a hand clutching the table. 

“So. Thanks again,” he says. And then he’s gone. 

You let yourself drop dramatically into a chair, groan growing as it turns physical when your tailbone hits the seat wrong. 

You’re rubbing your forehead and thinking about going to bed to give yourself a pity orgasm when the door opens. He’s quiet and cautious, but he pushes the door shut behind him and locks it. 

“M’sorry,” he says. “I…”

“It’s okay,” you say with a tired smile. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” he says, offering you a hand. 

You take it and let him pull you to standing. 

His other hand finds your waist. “I was bein’ a coward.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“Darlin’, you couldn’t,” he says. His arm slides further around, pulling you to him in a gentle embrace. He looks down at you through heavy lids, watching the way your lips part just a little. “You still want this?”

You bring a hand up to cup at the hair that curls down the nape of his neck. “Please,” you whisper. 

He matches your motion, cradling your head in his palm as he dips his head to kiss you. He wastes no time, licking into your welcoming mouth, seeking out the earthiness of the tea still lingering on your tongue and the sweet shiver of goosebumps prickling across his skin as you wind your fingers into his hair.

“Shit,” he mumbles when you break away for air. “What do you want, baby? What can I have? You gotta tell me now, before I can’t think straight.”

“You can have whatever you want, Joel,” you say, hot breath brushing his swollen lips before he presses them to you again with a growl.

It’s a much quicker kiss, and he breaks away to drop to his knees and push your skirt up to your hips. You have to lean back with both hands clenching the edge of the table not to fall over in shock.

He nuzzles against the soft cotton of your panties and groans at the smell of your wet cunt. He mouths at it gently over the fabric before hooking his finger around the gusset and pulling it aside to part your lips with his tongue. 

“Not fair,” you gasp as he feasts. “I was supposed to—supposed to do that for you.”

“You said whatever I want, darlin’,” he says against your pussy, chasing the taste of you. 

“Fuck,” you pant. “Fuck.” 

“Gimmie one and I’ll let you suck my cock if ya want it so bad,” he says, plunging two thick fingers in and basking in the way you squeal and squirm. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, pistoning in and out like he’s trying to win a race. 

It works, with his tongue on your clit and his fingers against that soft, secret part of you that no one has touched before, you gush around where he spreads you. “That’s it,” he croons, “good girl. Good fuckin’ girl, give me another.”

“You said—”

He cuts you off by sucking on your clit and your hips rock, wobbling the table as he takes another from you anyway. 

“Couch or bed?” he says, tugging your panties down your legs now that he’s sated the immediate urge. 

“Don’t care,” you say.

“Alright, bed,” he says. “Wanna do this right.” 

“Don’t think you could do it wrong,” you say, a lazy, sated smile on your face and a lightness to your eyes that he thinks he could get addicted to. 

He does let you suck his cock, and thinks maybe he could die happy from the warm, wet of your mouth and the way you look up at him like he’s the only thing in the world. 

At that moment, he is. You had resigned yourself to keeping your little crush a secret until it faded, too fond of him to risk it, but here? Now? Now that you’ve had him, you don’t think you can ever go back. 

He’s gentle in a way you can’t quite name. It’s not that he’s soft with you, but just aware. Like he knows where you’re capable of meeting him and settles there. He makes room for himself in you like you’d done for his coat, opening you up and stuffing you until you’re warm and full and renewed. 

He doesn’t leave you to stitch yourself up, either. He buries his face in your tits and holds you tight after, cleans the both of you up with a warm towel, and kisses you before he leaves.

Neither of you want him to go, but he’s got Ellie at home and won’t—can’t—worry her by not coming home. Not without warning. Next time, he whispers, and it carries a question and a promise. 

There is a next time. And another. And another. You think you might be in trouble. You do far less mending jobs once your evenings are taken over by Joel. You still take them, darning socks on the soft with your feet in his lap, or basking in the way he looks proud and satisfied when you use the stand to fix up bigger projects. Some of your favorite nights are when he sits and strums his guitar while you sew, just two people finding peace by creating it themselves. Together. 

So when eight months later, that tape finds its way into the VCR you’ve only used twice, you’re more than familiar with the bulking shape of him. The way his hair sticks up when he runs worried hands through it. The grip of those hands, sure and steady.

He finds you there on your third viewing. You didn’t even hear him come up the porch, didn’t realize the sun was starting to crest over the mountains, that he’d be coming by with breakfast just like he promised.

The little Joel on screen is working his way to the operating room. You’ve stopped flinching at each crack of the gun or collapsing body. 

“Where the hell did you get that?” 

You do startle when he speaks, unaware that he’d been watching you watch the tape for a minute. His voice is low and slow, something lurking beneath the baritone that trips an alarm. 

This isn’t your Joel. This is that one, the one from the TV. 

He moves like a jaguar, slinking and graceful. “Where,” he snarls, breath curling off your clammy skin, “did you get this?” His hand curls around your shoulder at the base of your neck. 

“It was on my porch,” you whisper. 

His fingers dig in a little where he holds you in place. “Try again.”

“It’s the truth, I swear. I didn’t know what it was.” 

“How much did you watch?”

“All of it,” you whisper, though it feels like the click of a lock.

“Goddamnit, baby. Why’d you have to do that?” 

There’s an actual click, the unmistakable flick of a release. 

“Joel, please,” you say, voice breaking. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“I can’t take that chance,” he says. 

He still hasn’t brought the knife close to you, though, so you hazard a glance over your shoulder. You wish you hadn’t. He’s gone, his sweet eyes dead to the world, no whisper of his gentleness to be found. 

“I swear, please. You can trust me.” 

“Can’t trust anyone in this world, darlin’. You shoulda realized that by now.”

*title from "Through Glass" by Stone Sour

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #jackson!joel #dark!joel #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #dead dove fic #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday8

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Early Jim Kirk: Why So Serious?

To the people who said that Paul Wesley's Captain Kirk was "too serious" or that it "wasn't our Jim Kirk":

Let's have a kiki, shall we? :)

A lot of folks seem to forget who Jim used to be before meeting him in TOS.

In an interview, Paul Wesley discussed how different Jim's early character and life was from TOS Kirk. Wesley's study of Jim and his early characterisation was in fact based on TOS descriptions and relevant lore surrounding it. I was not at all phased by the Jim we saw, as early Jim is described as quite a departure from our flirty, confident TOS Jim. Wesley did his homework.

From the chat that Kirk has with Gary Mitchell in TOS (Where No Man Has Gone Before 01x03) and Bones in Shore Leave (01x15) re: Finnegan, we learned in Jim's younger years, Kirk didn't always have that swagger. In fact, Jim used to be a rather serious nerd.

Kirk in the academy was described as "a stack of books with legs", "positively grim", and "watch out for Lieutenant Kirk. In his class, you either think or sink".

He also adhered to Starfleet rules far more in his early years a la Boimler. For example, he reported an error that older officer and very good friend of his Benjamin Finney made on the USS Republic, leading to Finney's demotion and later the events of Court Martial (01x20). He reported one of his own besties to HQ and got him demoted. Quite a departure from how often Kirk violates Starfleet orders and directives for Spock on TOS. Again, he is not the same Jim. Character growth.

I think folks get so wrapped up in Spock being the thinking guy and Kirk being the action guy that they forget: You kind of have to be a brilliant genius and thinker to even get a starship command, let alone the flagship. Jim is not dumb and never was; he is exceptionally smart. Spock is just a freaking GIGA GENIUS and anyone standing next to that might look less bright in contrast. But make no mistake, Jim is also brilliant as a military man and diplomat.

Jim is often stereotyped as a swaggering meathead when he is actually an intelligent and capable diplomat even from his earliest years with Starfleet. As a cadet, he was decorated by Starfleet with the Palm Leaf for his peace mission work on Axanar (Court Martial 01x20). As a Captain, Jim helped to complete just as many successful federation member recruitments as he did take names and kick ass.

Jim loves chess. He loves his dad's old books and classic literature. He memorizes quotes from those texts and references them constantly in TOS. How many jocks do you know out here memorizing classic literature to reference even now in our time? One of Jim's most precious, prized possessions is an old text copy of "A Tale of Two Cities" he got as a gift for his birthday from Spock.

There are still those glimpses of old Jim planted throughout TOS and the movies.

As you examine him and his past, every description of him as a young man in the original series was that he was a nerd. Kirk, as a character, shows how much we change as people from high school/uni to adulthood.

The early Jim Kirk is not the Kirk we knew and loved, and he often comes as a surprise to folks accustomed to the Jim he later becomes. He grows into his own over time and finds himself, like many of us. But Wesley's portrayal seemed surprisingly apt to me, considering early descriptions of James T. Kirk's character.

TLDR: Jim Kirk was described in his early years as "serious", "positively grim", "a stack of books with legs", top of his class, and would report you to HQ for a crumb. This is not the Captain Kirk you knew who took command of the Enterprise in 2265. Jim Kirk used to be a serious, passionate Starfleet nerd.

All in all, I thought Paul Wesley's character study with all this considered was

Anyway, thanks for coming to my Ted X Talk about baby James Tiberius Kirk.

I'd love to hear from you folks, feel free to chip in, add to this or correct any errors. :) LLAP.🖖

EDIT: See Part 2 of this Jim Kirk SNW AU Analysis where I respond to an ask from @letteredlettered​; we get into the importance of the Triumvirate for Kirk Prime, as well as the relevance of why Jim Kirk being assigned the Farragut would be a poor choice of command commission for him. It further solidifies that this is not “our Kirk”, but an AU where we see what would come of our Kirk if he did not get the flagship commission or meet his boays to form the Trek Trinity. 

#thats my BOAY #my nerdy stoic boy who used to carry around textbooks in starfleets halls #and used to get the shit bullied out of him by Finnegan #scaring other cadets when they saw him in their classlist knowing he was going to be a pain in the ass #THATS OUR JIM #star trek #kirk #meta #1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt #tos #snw #star trek tos #star trek snw #star trek the original series #star trek strange new worlds #william shatner #paul wesley #jim kirk #james t kirk #captain kirk #cadet kirk #lieutenant kirk #I need to get my PHD in James T Kirk #oc #octrek #octrekmeta #st:tos #st: snw

[kit-and-wolfe]

Neon Requiem - Band Rivals Hobie x Guitarist! Reader

Based on @rexlroze and @the-kr8tor 's original ideas that just started to eat my brain.

NOTE: I don't write Hobie/Miguel--in fact--I don't write fanfiction at all. As the fandom's resident Chaos Goblin Queen!Spider-Mom writing characters half my age is a bit of a stretch for me. This has not been proofread/edited for foreign language used. All repetitive info, boring shit, and grammatical mistakes are 100% my own and brought to you by the letters ASD and the numbers 5 (as in year-old-child with aforementioned ASD) and 3 (as in hours of sleep that I get each night).

Also, written like a screenplay, so I could turn this into a proper comic coming up. Also also, get you a person who looks at you like Hobie looks at R.

ACT 1 SCENE 1 - FLASHBACK - EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT In a gritty, neon-lit alleyway, Young teen R is busy wheat-pasting posters for her band's upcoming gig. The posters feature a cybernetic skull (looking suspiciously like Spider-Man 2099 mask) with glowing eyes, the band's name "2099" emblazoned beneath it. As she works, Hobie appears from the shadows, a spray can in hand. He's tagging a nearby wall with a stylized anarchy symbol.

HOBIE (noticing R) Oi, what've we got 'ere? Another lost soul in the concrete jungle?

R (startled, then regaining composure) Hardly lost, mon ami. Just spreading the word about the revolution. Hobie steps closer, examining her posters.

HOBIE "2099," eh? Sounds like a proper cyberpunk outfit. You lot singing about the end of the world or sommat?

R (grinning) More like the rebirth of a new one, through science and technology. It is the brain-child of mon ami, his idea for a band... but he sings like...a cat in heat yowling from inside a Cookie Monster costume. Fun concept though. I'm going to take lead vocals.

HOBIE (intrigued) That sounds painful... but color me impressed, love... You can sing? Right? Not every day you meet a bird with brains, talent, and beauty. R rolls her eyes, but there is a hint of a blush on her cheeks, but before she can respond, the sound of police sirens fills the air.

HOBIE (grabbing R's hand) Bollocks, your dystopian future has arrived! They run through the winding alleyways, adrenaline pumping, until they finally come to a stop in a secluded courtyard.

READER (catching her breath) Merde, that was close!

HOBIE (grinning) Stick with me, love, and you'll never be bored. As they lean against the wall, laughing and trying to catch their breath, a spark of connection flickers between them.

READER (realizing) Wait, I never got your name.

HOBIE (extending his hand) Most just call me Dirty Punk, or Punk for short. He jokes, self-deprecating, he doesn’t want to tell her his name yet, it feels really personal now, like it's just Hobart, it's not that cool. It’s definitely not cool enough to tell her.

READER Punk, eh? Really? Fine, then call me R. Yeah, Punk, I can sing...

SCENE 2 - PRESENT DAY - EXT. CITY STREETS - NIGHT

In a gritty, neon-lit alleyway, READER, a French metal chick with ever-changing hair color, is struggling to wheat-paste a large poster featuring her band "NEON REQUIEM" on a high, hard-to-reach wall.

Suddenly, SPIDER PUNK (aka HOBIE BROWN), a British punk rocker and vigilante, appears hanging upside down on a web behind her.

SPIDER PUNK Need a hand, love?

Reader spins around, eyes wide with fear and surprise.

READER (stammering) Spider-Man! Je suis désolée, It… yeah.. it's exactly what it looks like.

SPIDER PUNK (waving his hand dismissively) Nah, don't sweat it, mate. I'm all for stickin' it to the man. 'Sides, that's a wicked poster you got there.

Reader relaxes, a smile spreading across her face.

READER (relieved) Merci! I thought I was busted for sure.

SPIDER PUNK (flips down from the web and lands on his feet, like a cat) Not on my watch, love. 'Ere, let me give you a boost.

Spider Punk gently wraps an arm around Reader's waist and shoots a web to the top of the wall. They ascend together, Reader grinning as they reach the perfect spot to place the poster.

As they work together to smooth out the poster, Spider Punk notices the band details: Reader, Miguel, and Gabriel. Guitar, Bass, and Drums. Miguel is handsome, long-haired, massive band-mate. Miguel back up vocals and bass he is the epitome of a metal-head.

SPIDER PUNK (chuckling at Miguel's serious metal-head expression) This bloke looks like he could use a laugh.

With a mischievous grin beneath his mask, Spider Punk uses his web shooter to draw a silly mustache on Miguel's serious face.

READER (giggling) Oh, il va être furieux! But it's too funny! My poor brother.

SPIDER PUNK (admiring their handiwork) There, now that's a proper work of art.

As they descend back to the ground, Reader turns to Spider Punk, her eyes sparkling with amusement and gratitude.

READER (sincerely) Merci beaucoup, Spider-Man. You really saved my ass tonight. You should come cheer us on at Battle of the Bands.

SPIDER PUNK (bowing dramatically) All in a night's work for your friendly neighborhood Spider Punk, love. I might be there, afterall, the Spider Punks are playing-band like that is my namesake, innit?

With a wink beneath his mask, Spider Punk shoots a web and swings off into the night, leaving Reader grinning and shaking her head in amazement.

SCENE 3 - INT. BAR - NIGHT

Later after dropping by her hostel room to change and wash up from paste, READER, aka, R is at a bar when she spots the only open spot at the bar. It's next to a 20-something nursing a pint. SPIDER PUNK, aka HOBIE BROWN aka PUNK, a British punk guitarist in his mid-20s, sits at the bar, nursing a pint. His lean, wiry frame is clad in a torn Sex Pistols shirt and tight jeans, held up by a studded belt slung low on his hips. Fishnet gloves adorn his hands, their black polished nails chipped from endless hours of guitar playing. Piercings glint in the dim light, catching the eye and hinting at his rebellious nature. He's in his civvy digs, a signature blend of 1980s anarcho-punk style that makes him look like the second-coming of Jean-Michel Basquiat, all raw talent and unfiltered edge. Lost in thought, an achingly familiar voice, something from a buried memory, suddenly catches his attention. It can't be...

READER, [loosely based on Gwen Stacy's Black Cat] a French metal chick with ever-changing hair color,  also in their mid-20s and equally skilled with a guitar, orders a drink next to him. Her effortlessly cool vibe is a result of her world travels. She is now in her full stage persona costume with all the eyeliner and leather that comes along with it.The two don't recognize each other at first.

READER (to the bartender, in a French accent) Un Jack Daniel's, s'il vous plaît.

Hobie glances at Reader, a flicker of recognition in his eyes... doesn't he know her? Battle of the Bands? Must be it, mate.

HOBIE (in a thick British accent) Blimey, that's a proper choice, innit? You 'ere for the battle of the bands, love?

READER (surprised) Oui, how did you know?

HOBIE (smirking) Just a... sense...Call it a punk's intuition, darling. I'm in the mix too, y'know.

MIGUEL O'HARA, Reader's handsome, *built* Hispanic bandmate, approaches. At 6'7" and 310lbs of pure muscle, he cuts an imposing figure. His younger brother GABRIEL, a softer, sweeter version of Miguel, follows close behind.

MIGUEL (Finds Reader and is by her side instantly, voice dripping with sarcasm and derision) R, you snuck out on practice...just to drink in this hellhole? Is that Jack? No puedo mas... Carnalita...This shit is bad for you.

READER (smiles to her bandmate, she has just arrived but she is hiding her wheat-pasting activities from the stern older band-mate) You worry too much, Miggy, mon ami. We've been practicing all week.

MIGUEL (softens) Gabri and I could have come out with you. You shouldn't go out in an unknown city alone. It's not safe for you, carnala.

HOBIE (puffs a bit, all charm, recognizing Miguel from the poster, he puts it together that R is the same girl from earlier. Hoping to impress this 'brother' of the cute girl, he offers Miguel his hand. Miguel looks him over and is unimpressed, he does not take Hobie's hand) Keeping the lady safe, mate. You can trust me. I'm one of the Spider-Punks.

GABRIEL (shoulders his brother to the side and takes Hobie's hand, gushing) We've heard of you guys, the local punk rock band, yeah? Your drummer is... gahh...Ah-Mazing! You think we could meet?

Someone's got a crush on Gwen Stacy.

MIGUEL (scoffing, stepping closer to R) You call that punk noise "rock"? Metal is where the real skill lies...Real talent is in the complexity, the technical skill. Metal pushes boundaries, takes you to new places. Punk's just three chords and an attitude.

HOBIE (visible shift in attitude, he eyes Miguel's massive frame) Never skip leg day, eh bruv?

R stifles a laugh as Miguel's face reddens with anger. Gabriel looks nervously between his brother and Hobie.

READER (trying to defuse the tension) Allez, let's save the competition for the stage, d'accord?

HOBIE (smirking, he stands, not as tall as Miguel, but nearly so) Tell you what, mate. Let's settle this on stage. We'll let the crowd decide who's got the real chops.

MIGUEL (grinning fiercely, are those...fangs?) You're on, punk. Prepare to be schooled.

READER (interjecting, her eyes sparkling with amusement) Ah, mais non, Miggy. There's art in simplicity too. Punk, metal, it's all about the energy, the message, non? Who is your drummer, she sounds enchanting.

GABRIEL (nodding) She is, she's go this...energy. Pero, R's right, Miguel.

There is a not so subtle look that passes between the brothers, an undertone of: DON'T RUIN THIS FOR ME MANO from Gabri, Miguel nearly rolls his eyes.

Music's music. Let's just focus on putting on a good show and maybe we can learn something from their band, eh?

HOBIE (winking at Reader) Aye, love. Can't wait to teach your wall of meat here a thing or two. Let's give 'em a show they won't forget...later?

READER (brightly, oblivious to the brothers' feelings) Later!

As Hobie saunters off, Miguel glares after him, his fists clenched. Gabriel places a calming hand on his brother's arm.

GABRIEL (softly) Easy, hermano. He's not worth it.

As Hobie leaves the bar, Reader shoots Miguel a disapproving look.

READER (oblivious to the brothers' feelings) Was that really necessary?

MIGUEL (shrugging) Just giving him a taste of what's to come. We're going to blow them away, R.

GABRIEL (sighing) I hope this doesn't get out of hand, their drummer is way better...I wanted to meet her.

READER (shrugs, trying to ease the tension) You will, I'll be yoru wingman, yeah? Gabri. You got this. And mano, Miguel... nothing wrong with being confident, but..just...save that aggro energy out on the stage. Come on, we're going to kick some ass!

MIGUEL (glaring at Hobie's retreating back) Don't tempt me. Let's go, carnalita, time for practice.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #atsv fanart #miguel spiderverse #miguel o hara #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel fanart #miguel o’hara fanart #beyond the spiderverse #hobie atsv #hobie brown #atsv hobie #spider punk #hobie fanart #hobie x reader #hobie spiderverse #across the spider verse #atsv #astv hobie #hobart brown

[awakenedsalamander]

Alright, so I’ve obviously given Mage and Vampire some attention. It’s about time I talk about Werewolf: The Apocalypse, you know, round out the “big three.”

Truth be told, I have kind of a love/hate relationship with Werewolf, though that kinda implies it’s an even split of things I enjoy and things I don’t, but that’s not quite correct.

A more accurate breakdown of my feelings would be something like:

- 60% stuff I really love and appreciate

- 20% stuff I go back and forth on

- 15% stuff I dislike but can tolerate (pretty standard for WoD)

- 5% stuff I really, truly, passionately loathe

And it’s honestly that last 5% that I struggle with most. To be clear, a lot of the WoD games have things in them I don’t just dislike, but find sincerely objectionable or harmful. (A certain Vampire sourcebook, the title of which I can’t even comfortably write out, immediately comes to mind.) But I get past those things, because 1) no work of art is morally flawless, and your tastes as a hobbyist or audience member are not your ethics as a human being and 2) a lot of that stuff is from the older editions and has largely been divorced from the game.

So what’s different about Werewolf?

Well, some of it lies in point 2— there are things in Werewolf that are bad and (barring the controversy of 5th Edition’s lore changes, which is a whole other kettle of fish that I’d rather not dive into right now) are still part of the game. Improved somewhat? Absolutely. But the ugliness of some choices still haunts the game.

The ways Werewolf: The Apocalypse talks about native peoples, from Indigenous Australians to First Nations Americans, is a big example. I don’t feel it prudent for me to go into those details, if only because I think it’s not my lane and voices from those cultures should really lead those discussions, but the game has a very weird attitude toward indigenous groups— at one recognizing their history and the atrocities they’ve come through with respect, while still finding ways to exoticize that history, and appropriate much of it. To say nothing of the ways in which it feels comfortable speaking over indigenous groups, even in matters of their rights.

That’s just one example. There’s the way Werewolf conceptualizes ethnicity and ancestry in general, which is weirdly archaic in places despite seemingly trying to criticize that view. There’s its approach to disability and bodies that differ from an assumed norm, which as many have observed can sometimes come across as genuinely eugenicist on occasion.

And of course, the game is about monsters— you’re not meant to agree with the Garou on much of their beliefs, and you’re meant to engage with those very real issues and wrestle with the right way forward.

And honestly? That last part— the reality of the issues at hand— that’s what makes the bad parts of Werewolf so hard to look past. You know, the other games in the World of Darkness deal with real world issues, but they do so in a fairly abstract way. Like, sure I can and do identity the Technocracy of Mage with destructive and cruel systems of power in the real world, but like… there isn’t actually a league of hypereconomists using secret math to influence the fate of the world. That’s just an exaggerated and metaphorical way to engage with the problems at the heart of a late-capitalist world.

But Pentex? Pentex is basically real. The Apocalypse in Werewolf: The Apocalypse is climate change. It’s happening now. When the game tells you that you need to Rage against the dying of Gaia… that’s almost as literal as it gets. And that makes its fumbles, its mistakes, and yes, its deliberate offenses, harder to swallow. The stakes are high enough that when things are wrong, it really hurts.

But… let’s also acknowledge: The reality I’m talking about it? It’s what makes that 60% stuff I like so amazing. The lows of Werewolf are hard to stomach, but the highs are just… exhilarating.

Like, Werewolf is a game that says, “You see the state of the world? You see its monstrous past? Its insidious present that only hides the horror? Do you see the doomed future its on a crash course with? Let’s take it, and let’s rip it to fucking shreds. It these tyrants and thieves want to kill the world, then we’ll kill them first, if that’s what it takes. If the Apocalypse happens, it happens on our terms, on the terms of the people being victimized and shoved to the margins. You and I? We’re gonna build a better world or die trying. All our anger might ruin us, but we have to try. The consequences of our actions are dire, but we don’t go down without making the bastards work for it. Not without a fight.”

And fuck, when the game is saying that? It’s priceless.

In fact, this has all been too down on Werewolf as a whole. I want to get my problems with the game out front, just to acknowledge them and keep space for the critique and change that they demand, but at the end of the day, I am a Werewolf: The Apocalypse fan (if one with a lot of notes). I want to do something a little unusual and show you an outline for an Apocalypse chronicle I haven’t yet had the chance to run, to show you what I love about the game.

So, stay tuned for a glimpse into that later— a glimpse into “Blood Ripples Out.”

#wod #world of darkness #werewolf the apocalypse

[thegrimreaperisanerd]

hi :) binge read your de fic that you have posted on ao3 last night and really enjoyed all of it! excited to see any updates. was wondering if you have any rec for other fic youve read and enjoyed-- i am not god's bravest soldier and do not enjoy trudging through tags and was wondering if you had read anything yourself that you really enjoyed lolol

Hey, thanks so much!!! Sorry it's taken a couple days to answer this, I'm poor as shit and have two jobs now wah... capitilism...

I'm working on the next 46' chapter, It's about 70% complete and I generally let it sit for an evening once it's done then re-read it the next day to catch the vast majority of mistakes (I edit everything myself) so I'd say expect that in the coming days.

I have some thoughts! I... Have never been asked for fic recs before so I'm gonna list a bunch in no particular order that I enjoyed, and reasons why. I will note that I tend to enjoy meaty plot-based works over fluff, so that's what I'll be recommending. Anyway!

Paddling Out (THE REPEATER CORPSE CONUNDRUM) - @transhitman - So this is the first DE fic I read and it set the bar pretty fucking high. YOU'VE GOT: a very cool and insular setting (don't get me wrong I like fics where they travel around Revachol too, but there's something to be said for building a set and living in it for a while) YOU'VE GOT: extremely harrowing tension and pale-fuckery YOU'VE GOT: some genuinely beautiful, heartfelt moments (I don't want to spoil anything but "people don't need your permission to care about you" kinda undid me) YOU'VE ALSO GOT: Amazing art?! Always a bonus, I wish I could draw people lol

Have You Heard The News That You're Dead? - Wizardlover - Time Loop shenanigans hell yeah! Basic premise: Kim is *unable* to save Harry's life after he's shot at the tribunal, each time he dies he Reawakens in Martinaise on the first day and desperately has to try and find a way to either prevent the Tribunal entirely, or survive it. I think the major draw to this one is how well it's characterised and how well that lends to the major source of tension: trying to convince THE WORLD'S BIGGEST SKEPTIC that you *a man he 'has only just met'* is actually stuck in a time loop. Juicy shit.

The Case Of The Man Who Two-Thirds Wasn't There - @glisteningceruleaneyes - We got another case fic here, gang. This is one of those "they travel around Revachol" numbers I previously mentioned. A lot to love about this fic; the minor OCs are all loveable (or at least well-written, looking at you Mr. Bigot-All-Rounder), the elements of writing in the game's style (particularly use of Harry's 'to do' list that you find in the ledger, you don't see that as often!) are all fantastic. Also without spoiling too much I'm a sucker for hurt/ comfort :) I like when bad things happen to our specialist guy :) ALSO! alternating chapters, Kim vs Harry's perspectives contrast REALLY well! Just a super enjoyable read. - On that note I also wanna include a special mention: there's a podfic for this one and since I mentioned my two jobs, I've been listening to audiobooks at work (I'm a cleaner. It's very boring) and that was a fun change of pace!

The Emergent Causeway - hal_incandenza - Now you KNOW this one is good because it's the only *unfinished* fic I'm recommending. Again, We've got art! We've got a brand new (non-Revachol!) setting that still feels excellently Elysium! We got that excellent balance of humour and misery from the get go! EXCELLENT murder mystery so far, I am intrigued AND also there's a fucking puppy. Hell yeah. This one's from Kim's perspective and does a really good job of it, nothing like a man being begrudgingly sent on holiday and being somewhat relieved to have a corpse to deal with.

A Spilled Kaleidoscope - @spilledkaleidoscope - I'm actually recommending a series here. Real definition of "came for the art, stayed for the writing" I mostly have a soft spot because I got to watch a few "haha, what if-?" musing text posts become a series of written chapters and INCREDIBLE DRAWINGS HOLY SHIT. Like, you really just draw hands for fun, huh? This person made a pact with some sort of devil beasts to draw hands very good, at the bare minimum we can read their fiction.

Nothing To Lose But Our Chains - Lepak - I almost forgot this one and I honestly can't believe it because this is one of these ones that you need a cigarette afterwards. Good fucking god. This is probably the best fic I've ever read in terms of not shying away from the heavy themes that make Disco Elysium such a beautiful, moving game. It tackles a racism in many forms, particularly how people like Kim (in working for the RCM) and immigration laws do their part in upholding racist systems, despite the way it hurts him too. Of course, it's also excellently written with tense scenes and some real funny moments. A real good'un here.

The Catacomb Killer - SupposedToBeWriting - Give Harry more memory loss. Make him convinced he killed a kid. Make *Kim* convinced he killed a kid... Then the plot thickens. I won't lie I can't remember fuck all about this one because I was mostly drunk when I read it, but if it was good enough that I kept reading instead of smoking a spliff or something then it must have been excellent... I will re-read it when I have the time, lmao.

MURDER ON THE AIRWAVES - @randomisedmongoose - I'm just a really big fan of murder mysteries and gore. You show me somebody with brain matter pouring from their earholes and I'm like "yum yum, more of that please." I am a sucker for curious methods of murder and this one's good for that. Lots of trekking back and forth like in the game again. More ACAB - always good.

I did not mean to include this many...........................

Oh well. Here's my list, there are plenty of others I've enjoyed but these are just the ones that came to mind! Thanks again for reading my fic! Always makes me happy when people let me know they enjoy my writing :3

#hey if i tagged u in this and u don't want to be tagged then PLEASE lemme know and i'll remove u #likewise i dont know if everyone has tumblr so if u know somebody does ping this post their way and if they wanna be tagged let me know and #i'll do that #fic recs

[storm-and-starlight]

Storm's Fic Recs: Transformers Edition

I was in Transformers fandom from June 2022 to February 2024. Here are the fics that I'll still carry with me, even though I've moved on. (I tried to tag as many people as possible, but I couldn't find everyone -- my apologies to cerkowah, jabberish, & buttface)

Victory Condition and Champion by Astolat (@astolat on Tumblr) Victory Condition more or less rewired my brain, and I don't just mean that it yeeted me into Transformers fandom almost entirely against my will or intention. It... sort of reset the way I saw the world? it's hard to explain. Either way, the poetry is very good. Champion is something of a spiritual predecessor to Victory Condition, but a lot more. just. fun. Ending the war with the power of dance parties. It's great. Victory Condition: Loosely G1, Megop, rated E Champion: Loosely G1, largely gen, rated T

Lonely Signals by Anefi (@anefi on Tumblr) SPACE WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALES god I love a good space whales story, and not only does this have space whales in abundance it also manages to nail down the impact of a four-million year war perfectly, without feeling too small or like it's going too big to be felt. IDW2005, Cosmos/Soundwave, rated T

Rest Easy by Largishcat (@largishcat on Tumblr) I barely ever read Dratchet, but this one... it's not "so good I read it despite the ship", it's so good I read it for the ship. Like Lonely Signals, it's one of very few fics I've found that actually manage to sell the scope of the war, and the Ratchet characterization is on-fucking-point. IDW2005, Dratchet, Megatron/Ratchet, rated E

the triumph of time (series) by oriflamme (@sunderedstar on Tumblr) I read all 400,000 words or so of this series in about four days. It's a rewrite of the end of IDW but make it epic (as in Tolkienesque) (seriously, idk how else to describe it except that I get the same sense of world-weight and cataclysmic events as I do from a lot of LOTR and high fantasy) but add in poetry and melancholy and history and also repairing everything that went wrong in IDW that never really got addressed. IDW2005, mostly rated T, some G. Check the tags for pairings.

Hazard Light by EatYourSparkOut, Emporianne, & cerkowah (@eatyoursparkout & @emporianne on Tumblr) This one's mostly on here for two things: 1.) doing hanahaki in a way that is like. actually thoughtful and not weird about love or unrequited love or anything like that, and 2.) doing hanahaki with robots. It's an absolutely brilliant setup that's brilliantly executed, and also Brainstorm and Percy are cute and pining and very dumb about it. MTMTE, Brainstorm/Perceptor, rated M

I'm All Full Up on Yesterdays, Don't Sing Me No More Blues by DesdemonaKaylose (@desdemonakaylose on Tumblr) Look, I know I say this a lot, but this fic has got the vibes down. It's exactly the take on Jazz that I've been looking for, all music and motion and city lights. Loosely Transformers: Prime, Jazz/Prowl, rated M

Send us a Blindfold, Send us a Blade by Trinary (@trinarysuns on tumblr) This was the first non-Astolat fic I read in this fandom that actually had an impact on me, and what an impact it was. One of the things that I love most about Transformers fic (especially IDW fic) is the sense of the... the timescale of the war? The weight of looking back and seeing how much has changed, and this fic really nails that specific sort of nostalgia. (Same kinda thing with how Lonely Signals/Rest Easy handle the war, but this one handles the revolution.) IDW2005, Starscream/Thundercracker, Starscream/Thundercracker/Skywarp, rated M

Attaque Composée (series) by neveralarch (@neveralarch on Tumblr) It's a fencing AU, but also they're all still robots, but also it's one of the most heartwrenching takes on IDW Starscream that I've seen (and that's saying something). The twisting of canon to fit the AU is masterfully done. IDW2005, Starscream/Wheeljack, mostly rated G, one T, one M.

Mistakes on Mistakes Until- by jabberish This one's an excellent sci-fi epic with everything that Jazz lends himself really well to in fic? Intrique and plot twists and General Shenaniganery. It's really fun. Transformers - All Media Types, Jazz/Prowl, rated M, currently incomplete but updating

Fathomless by Sroloc_Elbisivni (@sroloc--elbisivni on Tumblr) This is exactly the kind of vaguely-fairytale-magical-realism sort of tragedy-with-a-happy-ending that I live for, and it's especially notable in that that is not, precisely, the vibe that Transformers lends itself to and yet this fic pulls it off so well. Loosely G1, Jazz/Prowl, rated T

Your Own Hands by SatelliteSoundwave (@satellitesoundwave on Tumblr) An absolutely incredible example of non-linear storytelling. Not only is the actual order of scenes non-linear, it's tightly tied to the story itself. Wreckers Trilogy, Taraprowl, rated M

the only thing left out in the light by buttface Literally the only fic I've found that deals with the whole "Rodimus died on the alternate Lost Light and Drift held his funeral" thing, and it does it so beautifully. MTMTE, Driftrod, rated T

#fic recs #transformers #maccadam #leaving the fandom fic recs #Transformers fic

[lem0nshark-writes]

"Unexpected Mornings"

Thranduil x Male Reader

Type: Soft smut (?)

Word count: 1003

Warnings: technically a nb reader because no gender specific language was used but written with m!reader in mind :), elf reader, Thranduil being a FLIRT, Thranduil lowkey being a whore, maximum shameless flirting mode, nervous and awkward reader, not really a smut but I dunno what else to mark it, mostly it's leaning towards smutty themes XD so smut mark it is XD

Summary: You are Thranduil's personal assistant and have a major crush on him, and unknown to you it is very obvious and he knows.

A/N: Request by a lovely reader on wattpad.

My dudes sorry I didn't update for a while and it took me so long to get to my requests. I've kind of had a lot of bad things happen this past year and even more so this past couple of months and my mental health has gone down in that period but now I'm slowly getting back together and onto writing again so thank you very much for your patience and sticking with me! Also had a weird hyperfocus high happen this past 2 days and basically wrote 3 full oneshot requests within 24 hrs 😅 so expect more fics out these days once I get to edit them around and proofread them 😁

I hope you all have fun reading this little fic and have a great day!! 💕

You made your way down the tall halls of Mirkwood's palace, your robes flowing behind you as you took long strides through many corridors and turns, heading towards your king's chambers, hands tightly wrapped around a stack of papers.

See, you were king Thranduil's trusted personal assistant, always there whenever he needed it, doing everything and anything he asked and thus ended up high in his ranks. Second in command if you will, after Legolas that is.

You came to the tall doors of the entrance to his chambers, knocking quickly and not bothering waiting for a response, hurrying straight into the room, eyes glued to the papers nestled in your hands.

"Sir I have the papers you asked of me to find.." you hurriedly entered his room flipping through the papers to once again check and see whether you've brought all of them and if they were all in order, walking further into the room whilst doing so.

Finally looking up, to say you were shocked by what you saw would be and understatement. Cheeks shot up in warmth at the speed of light, placing a hand over your mouth and flushed cheeks and eyes and immediately stuttering, you quickly did an 180° turning around, eager to rush out of the room as fast as possible.

He was half naked, luxurious sleeping robes partially hanging draped down his arms and lower back, back fully naked and his smooth skin glistening in the morning light that creeped through the windows through the trees of the beautiful forest. Body partially facing you as he seemed quite unbothered by the state you caught him in, even seemed a tad bit amused.

"Oh my Erú I'm so sorry sir!! I should have knocked!" you mentally slapped yourself over and over again for your mistake, the image of Thranduil seeming to have left quite an impact on your mind, the picture not seeming to leave it whatsoever.

"I'm gonna get out and let you change-" you quickly made your way to the door, hurriedly trying to escape this hell of a situation.

Thranduil, staying quiet till now, smirks before speaking, amusement laced along his tone, "No please, help me out."

Hand on the handle you choked on air, trying to cough it out as casually as you could, hesistantly turning around before slowly making your way towards him, trying to avoid eye contact at all costs but feeling his teasing gaze all over you, not leaving your figure.

See Thranduil knew about your little secret, he knew you had a tiny little huge crush on him (and quite frankly he was fond of you too) and was 100% using it against you at all times, in a good way of course. Seeing just how much he could get you all flustered and bothered around him.

As you fumbled with his robes, suddlenly completely forgetting how clothes work, desperately avoiding eye contact and, well, staring at his perfect well toned body, Thranduil's piercing gaze burned holes into yours, so much it made small droplets of sweat trinkle your forehead and temples.

"You seem.. rather nervous darling Y/n, .. something on your mind?" he spoke as the corners of his lips upturned into a teasing smirk, tilting his head slightly to the side to get a better look at your face that you desperately tried to hide, thinking he doesn't have a clear visual of how nervous and flustered he made you.

"No, not at all sir-.." you pulled your lips into a thin line, eyes quickly darting over his clothes and your fiddling fingers, trying to get this over as soon as possible.

He humms, clearly letting you know he's not buying it as you finish up getting him all dressed up, "Do I make you nervous?" he asked with a smirk on his face, head still tilted slightly as his icy blue eyes pierced into yours, stepping in closer, your bodies now dangerously close to each other.

You tried not to bolt out of the room then and there, screaming internally but not moving an inch, frozen in your spot.

"S-Sir I-I.." you tried to mutter out but your tongue, and your mind too, being completely unable to form proper words let alone sentences.

"Hmm? What is it? What?" he spoke softly, dreamy gaze tracing all over your face, hand finding it's way into your long hair, fiddling with a strand playfully.

Your brain tried to process what was going on but you could swear it turned into a complete mush the moment you were in 1m radius of the beautiful king, and while you were trying to get your body to respond to your internal screetching, you failed to notice said king moving in closer, but the soft feeling of his lips on yours made sure you were brought back to reality.

Eyes darting wide open and brain working even faster it took you a bit to catch onto what was going on before you, without any thought made whatsoever, melted into the kiss, heat of the situation had your cheeks feeling like lava. But before you could completely turn into a steaming puddle in his hands he pulled away, soft smile on his lips.

"Is this what was on your mind?" He asked, tone voiced with amusement and slight smirk spreading on his face.

Your cheeks burst back into flames, "N-No!- Yes.." you looked down, slightly embarrassed by your apparently so obvious crush on him.

"Hm!" He let out, chuckling gently, amused by your answer.

He moved away from your still frozen form, fixing up his luscious hair before speaking, "Dinner tonight 8 pm, don't be late," he mused making his way to the exit door of his chambers with confident strike.

"Now lets go, we have lots of work to do!" he let out nonchalantly, hiding a smirk from your flustered self.

You quickly nodded, getting yourself out of your frozen state and quickly rushing to follow the tall man suit.

#Thranduil #Lotr #the hobbit #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil x reader #thranduil x y/n #Thranduil x male reader #Thranduil x m! reader #Male reader #Thranduil x gender neutral reader #Thranduil x gn reader #Gender neutral reader #Gn reader #Thranduil x female reader #Female reader #Y/n #Oneshot #Fanfiction #lotr fanfic #the hobbit fic #Tolkienverse #lord of the rings #The hobbit #M! Reader #M/m #M/f #M/gn #Fic

[noahsresources]

reflective prompts.

sometimes your muse reflects on some things about themselves, your muse, or another muse. on things that are new, things that are old, and things that just haven’t changed, even with everything they’ve been through together. darker & spicier prompts towards the bottom! CW: swearing, mentions of drinking & smoking weed. feel free to edit pronouns/descriptors as needed, & play around with context ♡

❝ you look ... different.  ... happier.  like there’s a lot more pep in your step. ❞ ❝ you still have this air of ... sadness about you. ❞ ❝ you don’t need to try so hard to be good ... deep in my heart i know that you already are. ❞ ❝ ... i still have this burning desire deep inside to ... to fuck over everyone, everything, that has wronged me. ❞ ❝ everyone makes mistakes, even you. ❞ ❝ i still have no idea what i’m capable of, even after all of this ... ❞ ❝ i still feel like such a cruel son of a bitch ... like a murderer, even ... ❞ ❝ you’re still such a leader ... in so many ways. ❞ ❝ my family would be so ashamed of the person i’ve become ... ❞ ❝ i finally think i’ve learned how to show a bit of mercy. ❞ ❝ you know, going around following strangers is gonna get you screwed one of these days.  haven’t you learned anything from the past? ❞ ❝ he’s/she’s/they’ve really mellowed you out.  it’s nice to see you taking on this kind of change. ❞ ❝ i can’t believe you’re still so sensitive here. ❞ ❝ dammit, i hate that i’m still sensitive there ... i thought i grew out of that ... ❞ ❝ i loved when he/she/they touched me ... but i guess i won’t be feeling that anymore ... ❞ ❝ i think getting married to him/her/them helped him/her/them see the world a little differently.  like things aren’t so bad. ❞ ❝ your bladder’s still small as ever, huh? ❞ ❝ ... whoah ... you look incredible in that suit and tie/tuxedo/dress/gown/other specified article(s) of clothing ... ❞ ❝ he/she/they still look(s) like he’s/she’s/they’re gonna piss his/her/their pants. ❞ ❝ haha, [name] ... still hiding from everyone/everything, huh? ❞ ❝ you’ve come out of your shell so much.  ... i can’t help but feel kinda proud of you. ❞ ❝ you/he/she/they doesn’t/don’t seem like the kind of person who would do something like that. ❞ ❝ i feel like i’m drowning in your eyes ... ❞ ❝ no, keep singing for me, please ... you’re quite good. ❞ ❝ look at you, begging for attention like this ... so cute ... ❞ ❝ ... being lied to has never broken my heart this much. ❞ ❝ ... do i love him/her/them?  not even i know ... ❞ ❝ ... you’ve never cried like this before ... are you okay? ❞ ❝ i wonder how you got this scar ... ❞ ❝ who knew you could be so shy? ❞ ❝ still the same shy person as always, huh? ❞ ❝ i never knew that you/he/she/they could be so adorable. ❞ ❝ i haven’t actually spoken to him/her/them for quite a while ... i have this sense that he’s/she’s/they’re still so wounded and bruised. ❞ ❝ you do not seem like the kind of person who’d be afraid of something like that. ❞ ❝ he/she/they look(s) like he/she/they just got bit by a snake, died, ascended to heaven, descended to hell, and ascended back up to the overworld. ❞ ❝ so, you finally learned how to use my weapon. ❞ ❝ ... have you ... have you ever kissed anyone under the stars before?  ... just like this? ❞ ❝ i never took you for much of a swearer.  it’s an interesting change. ❞ ❝ ... i’ve never really been much of a swearer.  i guess it just comes with the changing times, right? ❞ ❝ ... can i ask how you lost your arm/leg/finger(s)/toe(s)/other extremity? ❞ ❝ ... it’s an old gunshot/stab/etc wound ... i didn’t think it’d still be visible after all this time ... ❞ ❝ heh ... glad to see that he/she/they didn’t kill you after all. ❞ ❝ ... you killed him/her/them, didn’t you ...? ❞ ❝ .... he/she/they ... killed [muse name] ...? ❞ ❝ ... no way ... you fucking kissed him/her/them! ❞ ❝ ... no, you did not sleep with him/her/them ... ❞ ❝ you never seemed like the type to like drinking. ❞ ❝ i didn’t know you smoked weed ... gimme a hit. ❞ ❝ fuck ... i haven’t felt this kind of ecstasy in ages ... ❞ ❝ man, you’re high as a kite ... ❞ ❝ hang on, you’re drunk.  i’ll help you. ❞ ❝ oho, now just where did that hickey come from? ❞ ❝ ... you look kinda sexy in your underwear. ❞ ❝ damn, you’re real hot when you’re naked, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ i didn’t know you were into dressing so sexy like this. ❞ ❝ who knew you’d like it when i touched you like this ... ❞ ❝ ... i love it when you touch me like this ... ❞ ❝ i want to trace all the curves in your body ... to touch every part of you that i’ve always wanted to but never got the chance to ... ❞ ❝ th-that feels good ... right there ... ❞ ❝ fuck ... your hands feel so good there ... ❞ ❝ does that feel good? ❞ ❝ who knew you could get so riled up so easily? ❞ ❝ keep moving that hand down south and you’ll be crossing a border that can’t be uncrossed. ❞

#rp ask memes #rp ask meme #rp memes #rp starters #rp starter #ask meme #ask memes #rp prompts #romance #fluff #angst #dark #suggestive #memes #mine

[happyinjection]

♠️♥️High Card Bonus Short Story “Dear My Frivolous Senior” (1/1)♦️♣️

(Limited SS distributed physically at s1e01-12 all-night screening.)

Author: https://twitter.com/poipheno

#09 BY YOUR SIDE “Dear My Frivolous Senior”

.

.

“This is farewell.”

I have a family to save.

For that reason, I’ve made up my mind.

It doesn’t matter what it costs.

Because there’s no such thing as miracles,

Should I be made to dance around by a bad bet,[*]

I was ready to pull the trigger.

From the moment we held each other at gunpoint,

we have been running on our lifeline.[**]

Even if the end has yet to come,

What’s important to me will always stay the same.

I only have one thing I need to protect.

No more girls, playing dress-up, or music.

It’s the same for you, isn’t it?

If we were just coworkers, perhaps it would’ve been simpler.

The two of us have been through a lot of things together.

Although there are times when I got mad,

I can’t deny that the time we’ve spent together is sincere.

I should’ve had one true purpose and nothing else.

So how could my feelings have changed so much,

We’ve made more memories than I can hold.

However, there’s no place I can return to.

Despite being so close that our hands are touching, I’m still unable to say it.

“Thanks for everything.”

.

.

#11 CHRIS “Dear My Beloved Junior”

---Instead of calling it the end--- Please read it backwards.

TL notes: Please do not repost this translation anywhere, or where the staff can possibly see! I’m in no way a professional translator so if you find any mistakes, please do not hesitate to inform me right away. Reading the text normally shows Finn narrating his feelings (after the door scene in ep 9), while reading it backwards shows Chris’ true feelings (from phone call scene in ep 11). Edit: This SS referenced the OP and ED songs, [*] this is a line from “Trickster”, while this [**] is a line from “Squad!”

#highcard #high card #short story #hcss #finn oldman #chris redgrave #translation

[quirkwizard]

Same person who asked the "eccentric quirks for social media influencers" question, just realized I never specified I was referring to your Original Quirks. Apologies for forgetting that one crucial word, it kinda completely changed the trajectory of the answer.

It's fine. It was an easy mistake and I still had fun making the first one. Though for this, I will be covering Quirks that are useful in specific fields of influencers and help with influencers in general. I will give an honorable mention to "High Fi". For any of this influencer stuff to actually work, they all need one thing: Internet. You need at all times and you need it to be reliable.

Bulk: This would basically be every other exercise focused influencer where they show off their workout, but now the user is bench pressing cars, long jumping across buildings, and run across an entire city.

Kinesthetic: This has a lot of the same coverage as "Bulk", but more in the acrobatics and athletics side of things, such as performing impressive gymnastics, doing complicated dance moves, or pulling off trick shots.

Cook Out: This could work to cover a lot of health and food based kind of influencer, just changing whatever kind of weird cooking utensil you need to make food. Plus it makes for a cool show if you decide to stream it.

Deep Think: I often joke about his is the speedrunner's Quirk, but it could it certainly fit any kind of gaming streamer. Play the game in front of your adoring fans and then just going into your clutch mode for their particularly tough moments.

Fashion: Obviously, this fits under a lot of the fashion influencer. You can make whatever kind of odd look or outfit you want to or do commissions for people. You could make special versions of your mech that you hand made or look cool on camera.

Make Up: While this could fit the kind of make up or beauty channels, this really could work well with any kind of influencer. I mean if you want to be in a camera every day of your life, you better put on your best face and make sure you look nice.

Disc Set: To actually be an influencer, you need proper cameras and audio. You can put these discs wherever and get the best possible video you can get wherever you need the shot. And if you need to edit it, it's even already on a disc.

Decisive: This may seem like an odd choice, but it can certainly be great to have input on your decisions with so many people watching them. Like, say, you are about to do something catastrophically stupid that would tank your whole career.

Screen Tear: So if you are going to be any kind of influencer, you need at least some understanding of how to edit. This makes it way easier. Just jump into your latest project and add in whatever filters and sound affects you want in a matter of minutes.

Sleepless: Look, if you really want to be a top influencer, you need to give up certain things. The first would normally be a consistent sleep schedule, so why not do away with that entirely. Now you can dedicate all the time you want to your content.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks #Original Quirk

[sakarrie-creates]

It’s that time of year! Here’s my 2023 art summary! After two years of having to include non-colored pieces, I finally did enough ‘full’ pieces to fill my art summary template! I did have to get a bit creative with the months since I was able to draw a LOT more during the summer, but I’ll take it! Sorry it's a bit blurry. I'm not sure if that's just for the preview or not, but it was a smaller file than normal and since these reflections are 99% for my own interest, I decided it wasn't worth trying to change.

As usual, I got rambly so reflection questions are answered under the cut. The template I used is available here in case anyone else wants to make their own! My fic summary will be coming in a week or so, so stay tuned for the stats and round-up there. :)

What events did you participate in (with art)? Player Appreciation Week, Fandom Trumps Hate, Dear Fellow Traveler (Animatic), Weird People (Editing), SPN Comfortably Queer Zine (dropped), and lots of zine applications for page artist, merch artist, comic artist, and spot artist roles!

What was your biggest challenge this year? While time, like last year, was still a challenge, I think my biggest challenge was a mix of low motivation and an intense perfectionistic mindset. At the start of the year, I got super into TOH and was super hyped about all the zines with apps opening. I really REALLY wanted to get into them and figured I should apply for art too just cause it would increase my overall chances of getting in. After the finale, I did a screenshot redraw that ended up being absolutely fantastic for where my skill level is. I went deeper into rendering than ever before, and somehow it worked for me. 

That probably was the start of my unreasonably high expectations, and I got it into my head that maybe if I could make a whole portfolio of artwork at that quality level, I actually stood a chance at getting into a zine as an artist. From then on, I was hardcore crash-coursing perspective, rendering techniques, and generally trying to improve without allowing room for mistakes. While I do think it helped me grow a lot, it burnt me out so I struggled to work on stuff past summary (when all the zine apps were) and even dropped from the SPN Comfortably Queer Zine cause my imposter syndrome was so strong. (Though that was also partially because it was a ‘sign-up and you’re in’ zine, so they never saw my art during the application process and had no way of knowing if I was good enough.

What was something you were surprised by? I’m pretty sure I discovered the perspective tool is CSP this year! CSP has so many tools I’m not aware of (despite watching tons of tutorials and guides), so it wasn’t super surprising but it was nice. I have to say, they’re a serious hassle to work with and require a higher understanding of vanishing points and such than I currently have, but I could see it being very useful for future scene art pieces.

Did you try anything new this year?

Yes! This year I kicked down the door to the merch world and have been collecting and designing throughout the year. Though the designs have mostly just been for zine app portfolio’s, everything has worked out really well for me and I hope to produce charms for my collection as I improve my skills. Where do you think you most improved? Definitely my confidence in rendering! And probably my rendering itself too. I did a ton more pieces with it this year and it’s definitely a favorite part of the art process for me. I think I’ll have a lot more fun with it this year too, since I’m trying to keep it lower pressure, so I can experiment more to find out what brushes and styles I like most. What are you most proud of? I think I’m most proud of how ambitious I was with my zine apps. Though I didn’t get into any for art and it burned me out a fair bit, I did a lot of hard work and made pieces I can be mostly happy with. As for specific pieces, I’m very proud of my animatic clip for the Dear Fellow Traveler MAP (which is what the Belos art from the summary is from). My portion was about 5 seconds with 24 fully colored and shaded frames. A few of those were moving frames too, so the end result is the closest thing to actual animation I’ve done. I also really like the rendering on the Huntlow Epilogue art and generally how the Steve&Matt hug turned out.

How’d this year compare to your 2023 goals? I honestly couldn’t remember what my goals were, but all things considered, I didn’t do too bad! Thankfully past-Sakarrie was wise and made it a bullet list so I can just check things off. Met: -Player Appreciation Week -Add to zine portfolio -Apply to at least one zine as an artist (fine if don’t get accepted) -Keep experimenting with backgrounds and shading -Pull out some old WIPs -Build more consistency of style

The checked off ones I definitely met, so good for me! This was a very zine-focused year, so I way exceeded those goals. The last two I did do, but they’re a bit subjective. Specifically, I think the ‘WIPs’ I was referring to were old sketches, but most of the old WIPs I revisited were already colored and I was either adding rendered or cleaning them up for zine usage. As for style, I’m REALLY bad at telling haha. That said, my characters seem reasonably similar when I draw them, so I’m going to tentatively count it. Kinda: -One fully colored piece per month

I’m gonna give myself a half check on this one. I didn’t have a fully colored piece every month, but I did have over 12 fully rendered pieces in the end, several of which had backgrounds. So while I didn’t meet the letter of the goal, I feel like I met the spirit of it.

Did Not Meet: -Finish Huntlow comic -30 minutes animatic digitalize rough draft -Maybe make some fanart of my favorite fics

These don’t shock me. They’re all personal projects and this was a very external-goal-driven year for me. The Huntlow comic is a big love of mine but it’s definitely ambitious for where my skill is. I’ve got the whole thing messy-sketched and most of it has been clean sketched, but the jump from that to lineart is gonna be hard, and I have no idea what I’d be doing with color since the panels don’t have a background. That said, I do feel like it’s some solid work and I adore the angst vibe of it, so maybe I’ll get it done one day. I could also see myself posting it as a messy lineart comic so that others could enjoy the concept being executed in case it never gets finished.

As for the 30 Minutes animatic, I still 100% intend to complete it eventually. I love the way it fits to the music and I’m so proud of the thumbnails. Even if it never becomes a full animatic, I want to digitize the frames and line it up with music so I can share the concept I see in my mind with others. My brain was somewhat overtaken suddenly by TOH this year, so now that that’s settled and I’m hoping to follow my muse more this year, maybe this will be something I can get excited about again.

The fanart for favorite fics is no surprise since it’s kinda the tack on. With low motivation and projects with deadlines that needed my focus, personal art like this was buried way below other priorities. It’s a nice though for sure though.

Alrighty then, now it’s time for 2024 goals!! Oh goodness, I really don’t know what to expect of myself. I definitely am going to try to allow for more personal projects with lower pressure, but I do still have some goals. Hopefully most can be accomplished without applying big pressure though.

2024 Goals:

-Number One Priority: Create for my and don’t put myself in a place to get crazy burnt out and still have requirements. If I meet this goal, then it’s okay if I don’t meet any of the others. (It would be sad.... But I would still count it as meeting overall goals.) -Participate in Summergen and PAW Week (Art or Fic) -Design Handplates charm as anniversary gift (November) -Design CS Charm -Have a fully usable Zine Portfolio (Currently need more merch samples and rendered pieces with backgrounds) -Apply to new TOH Zines or other loved fandom zines. If I end up getting into any, I can pull back, but since that doesn’t seem likely, I want to get into the habit of always being ready to apply with what I have. -Make an ongoing project list to pin to my tumblr. This applies mostly for fics, but that way people coming to my page can see what fandoms I’m actively creating for and what they can look forward to (as well as have an opening to ask questions if they’re interested). -Post more (at least 10 times throughout the year) and add my best pieces to instagram (8+ pieces by end of year). -Do ONE of the following:     1. 30 minutes digitized so it can be shared with music      2. Open Up Your Eyes fully thumbnail      3. Fanworks for other people’s fics      4. Participate in an extra bang or exchange with art      5. Design and manufacture a pin -Play with different brushes and rendering styles -Draw something from scratch every month, no matter how small -Not exactly art, but I want to have a finalized long-term merch display plan for all my items Overall, how’d the year go? I think I did well! I didn’t meet all my goals and I pushed myself too far, but I learned and improved a LOT this year. All things considered, I made pieces that last year me would be blown away by, so I think that’s an automatic win. I’m pretty uncertain on how this next year will go (even more so than last year, which is surprising since I was changing schools last year), but I’m hoping to enjoy what I do and create art semi-regularly. Here’s to 2024!

#sakarrie's art #the owl house #carmen sandiego #voltron: legendary defender #non fandom #willow park #toh hunter #cs player #cs carmen #cs black sheep #cs the cleaners #belos #toh mattholomule #toh steve #tw puppets #huntlow #willow/hunter #angst #fluff #end of year #art summary #2023 summary of art