#Thank you for sending this in!!!

[luimagines]

Heya!

Sorry to bother you, but I recently read your Legend-centric "Mirror Mirror" one shot. It was SUPER cute, I couldn't get enough. So, I did a quick doodle based on a scene near the end! I hope you don't mind. ^^"

Thank you for all the awesome writing, have a good day/night!

NOT A BOTHER AT ALL- ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?!

AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

LOOK AT THEM!!! THIS IS GREAT!!!

[kingkat12]

28 for the fanfic/author thing? + I’m OBSESSED with your writing, by far my fav Bill writer across all platforms 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 The amount of times I’ve reread your stuff- 😭 Also currently awake way later than I should be 🫠

awww that is so sweet, what an immense compliment😭💕 thank you so so much!!!<33333 (and i hope u got some sleep oop)

28: what's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

... i've had way too many. way way way too many.

most of them involve killing my favourite characters, or character A pleading with character B to stay only for character B to leave in the end, the typical stuff🫠

but all in all, i've gotten the impression here that you guys see me as an angst writer???? i personally think that's the furthest thing away from the truth, as i just see myself an extremely avid enjoyer of enemies to lovers? but maybe i'm wrong lol, idk!! i love to write happy shit, but there has to be tension, if that makes sense? not necessarily sexual ofc

[firstelevens]

your titles are so clever!! talk to me about "what's my age again?"

Thank youuuu! 99% of my titles are just word for world the silly joke that I make about a potential fic concept before I think about it for more than ninety seconds and then realize I'm going to have to attempt to write it

what's my age again is a canon divergent MCU fic (pre Civil War) where Bucky gets badly injured when he accidentally gets caught in the middle of an Avengers op and Steve insists on bringing him in, so he like, wakes up at the Avengers Compound and he very much does not want to be there, but he's hurt enough that he can't safely make a break for it yet, either.

And I know that all sounds very dire and I don't think it'll be completely without angst, but honestly I just wanted to write a fic where Bucky kvetches a lot and we get to see more dimensions of his dynamic with Steve and the others? Also maybe we deal with the Howard and Maria Stark thing in a more reasonable fashion than what Civil War chose to do. I was also very entertained by the idea of Steve dealing with the thing where you introduce two of your friends and you think it's gonna go great and it absolutely does not, which is the context for one of the few excerpts I've managed to write so far:

At least once a week, Steve approaches Bucky and asks him whether it wouldn’t just be easier to bury the hatchet with Sam. At least once a week, Bucky points out that he wasn’t the one to break out the hatchet in the first place, so why should he bury it, and anyway, why would anyone bury a hatchet when that’s an objectively terrible way to hide a weapon? (He’s only started tacking this last part on the last few times that Steve has approached him, elaborating on his thoughts about weapon disposal every time. Steve really must have grown as a person between 1944 and now, because he just walks away with a shake of his head. The Steve Bucky knew would have socked him in the jaw by now for being this annoying, arthritis be damned.)

[caramialunaestelle]

@umbrellabancho sent:

"Yo." A young man with a shaved head and stern eyes gazed upon the young lady in front of him. Hands in his pockets. "You're the girl from the church posters, right? Mind if we have a talk? It's important."

Unprompted Asks || Always Accepting!

Asa stopped in her tracks and glanced over her shoulder at the other. He looked about her age, maybe a little older. At first, she didn't know how to react, she hated how the Chainsaw Man Church had painted her as the poster woman of the group. They had plastered her image all over the city and boasted about how she was the best Devil Hunter they had, which only brought unwarranted attention to her of course.

But a part of her kinda liked the attention.

"Y-yeah... I guess," she replied, turning to face him fully. "What's up?"

[gutsby]

can we get a lil one shot of waiting games joel and reader with their first time fully agreed on creampie pretty please 🥺🙏 maybe a smidge of breeding kink cause ik that man is nasty

I’M DROOOOOLING. SALIVATING AT THIS!

yes holy fuck i’d love to write that. also as of part 3 at least reader isn’t on the pill so should we put her on it or just have them fuck around and find out 👁️👄👁️

[phoenixbxrn]

✔: A plot you would love to play out with your character

☄: A doubt you have about your writing

☮: Something you're confident about with your writing

Ask the Mun Meme

✔: A plot you would love to play out with your character.

HMmmmmmm. I answered this earlier but for a modern verse plot, I think it would be fun to do something where like both characters witnessed some crime and have to go into witness protection together. Then have to play as a couple/family or something. Or surviving some kind of post apocalyptic setting. Love those.

☄: A doubt you have about your writing.

One of the things I really struggle with writing is flow. It's something I've always struggled with and I just feel like my stuff comes off super choppy or hard to comprehend sometimes. And it always lowkey kills me when my partner's stuff flows perfectly and I have to reply, knowing that my writing is not quite at their level lol. I'm forever thankful they still write with me but I try and put out what I give.

☮: Something you're confident about with your writing.

I feel despite struggling with flow I'm still a decent RPer. I can always and will still always try and improve but I'm not the worst lol. So that is a win in my book.

[starrystevie]

would LOVE

“i can’t believe you remembered this!”₁ “of course i did. you’re important to me.”

from the valentines prompt list please!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

it's nice, having days like these. days where the girls are with joyce and hop, driving their pseudo-grandparents up the walls with repeated questions and all their boundless sugar-fueled energy. days where the house seems still, nothing but the ocean waves crashing in the backyard breaking up their moments of peace. days where it's just steve and eddie, as if no time has passed, as if they were still in their 20s and nervous around each other and desperate to see their entire world reflected in the other's eyes.

it's not like they had anything special planned for this valentine's day. eddie dropped josephine and roxie off early and came back with takeout and a bottle of wine for them to share. they didn't need fancy gifts or meals or declarations of love. they just needed to be wrapped up in one another, sharing their warmth, sharing their wine, sharing their lives.

"hey, ed?" steve whispers against the side of eddie's neck as they relax on the porch swing, looking out at the waves together. if he left his lips linger on the warm skin he found, no one needed to know about it. "i gotta go grab something, scooch over."

eddie blinks lazily back at his husband, his hand pushing back his greying curls from his face before pulling the blanket up so steve can untangle himself from it. he slips his hand in his husband's and pulls him down gently to meet his lips, steve smiling as he goes willingly.

"don't start that, i won't want to stop," steve mutters with his lips still pressed to eddie's.

"then don't stop," eddie mutters back, reaching up to wrap an arm around steve's neck to keep him right where he wants him.

"mmhmm," steve regretfully pulls away. "two seconds, babe, i promise."

steve had it prepared earlier, the boombox sitting with a bright red bow on top hidden under a blanket by the couch. he even put in fresh batteries so it wouldn't die even though it was as ancient as they are. steve grabs the handle and an extra bottle of wine, bringing along the blanket from the couch because it's already starting to get cold.

"where did you find that?" eddie asks, his voice light and laced with laughter. he sets his wine glass on the table next to him and reaches for the boombox. "god, i haven't seen this since what? '99?"

steve chuckles, throws the extra blanket onto the porch swing and places the bottle of wine on the table. "it still works, too. press play."

eddie grins at steve and it's like being teleported back to '96, when they first got the house and they danced barefoot in the kitchen to whatever obscure band eddie had found that week. his grin turns soft, the wrinkles around his eyes unfold as he listens to the tinny sounds coming through the speakers.

"steve, how-," eddie breathes out, and it's so gentle, like the first touch of a spring breeze to let you know warmer months are ahead.

it's eddie singing, faint and slow over the barely there whimpers of a sleepy baby, over the sound of a music box tinging in the background, something about sunshine and skies of grey. the singing turns to humming turns to the sound of door closing and the whispers of two new fathers who have no clue what they're doing.

"you think she'll like us?" eddie on the cassette whispers. there's a soft sound of a kiss, the rustling of the camera's microphone against clothes, sounds that are easy to hear with the visuals of a vhs tape but not so much on a cassette tape.

"she'll love us," steve whispers back. the singing picks up again, even softer than before, the two of them mumbling the words to each other.

"is it on tape?" eddie in the present asks, his eyes misty behind his glasses. steve nods as the track switches over to something a little more chaotic, the sounds of roxie's first birthday bleeding out through the speakers.

"you said you wanted it for your road trips to remind you of home, so i called up dustin. sent him the vhs hard copies and he-"

eddie cuts him off with the type of kiss that steve loves best. it's searing, it's a brand, it's home. "you put our life on a tape, for me? i said that in passing, i can't believe you remembered it..."

"of course i did." it was steve's turn to be misty eyed. "you're important to me. i can't forget a single thing about you even if i tried."

they kept the tape playing until they had to rewind and start from the beginning. sounds of their kids, sounds of their family, their friends, their entire life echoing throughout the still night air. the soundtrack of the novel of steve and eddie playing through a boombox that had been with them for just as long. it was them, all mixed from some fancy software that dustin had, taking them down memory lane of the messy, crazy, perfect life they had made together.

it was love.

[ramblerogueblogs]

Okay I keep trying to think of the best OC to give for the OC matching game since I feel like... It'd be more fun if it's not someone you already know through and through?? XD So I'll put forward my babygirl Viv from high school!! Upbeat, plant-y alien girl who's very excited to be your best friend!! (Please she hasn't talked to anyone outside of her own family for so long and she'll people-please her way into a friendship as much as she has to-)

A friend made this playlist for her way back when and I still think it captures her energy very well hehe >:3c

(Or alternatively, literally any of my blorbos who you think would be fun LMAO, you know them all!! XD)

AWWWW VIV!!!! So nice to see her again! :') She seems so sweet! (Also Planet by Anamanaguchi my beloved) Okay so first, it's hard for me not to assign Tiller to anyone who's LOOKING for a friend. XD It's a very predictable choice, but you know that Tiller is friend shaped! I think Tiller could match Viv's upbeat energy and also be good about introducing her to more people, and generally making her feel at home! Tiller would also ask non-stop about Viv's home planet like "what's it like there? Is everyone a plant? Surely there's water then, and oceans right? Are your stars the same as ours?? Do you know what lobsters are????" I think they'd be a hoot!

Alternatively, I think Viv and Eva would get along very well, maybe with more of a mentor dynamic! I'm sure they'd have a lot to relate to both being aliens and traveling away from their planets and whatnot! Plus, I think Eva's the type of person to see Viv's people-pleasing qualities and try to gently steer her away from that. Like "hey, of course be kind to people, but also make sure you seek your own happiness and not just the happiness of others!" sort of thing. Eva's protector gene is very strong XD

[prophecychanged]

@flappervcmp 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗔𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗣𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗬: ❛ you look like you've got something to say. ❜ (( for elena! ))

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝗷𝗼𝗸𝗲𝘀 , it had been this way since her parents died. since their car had driven off wickery bridge. every time elena thinks maybe , just maybe , life could be on track once more , something sends it all spinning into chaos. vampire boyfriends , witchy best friends , friends turning , werewolves , the list of freak events could go on and on. there is one thing , however , that is harder to wrap her head around , that makes her question her very existence in this world. was she truly meant to exist , or was she some sort of punishment of katherine's doing? it never got easier , it never was less jarring when having to stare at her own reflection when there was no mirror in sight. elena can't shake the nauseating feeling in her stomach , the sinking brick that makes everything that much worse.

❝ ──── i , ❞ words fail her. no , this wasn't katherine. the only other doppelganger known to her was accounted for , and the one before her was not. elena's mouth dries out , fear coursing through her ( very human ) veins. she tries to recall of her training from 'ric , eyes nervously scan every exit , determination to survive pounding every thought in her brain. ❝ you're not katherine. ❞ elena accuses , her tone even. she doesn't mean to project hostility on this version of herself , though so far , katherine has set the bar real low.

[runawaymun]

I know it has been five days, but 1, 5, 12 for Celeborn? From the character asks?

MY BOY CELEBORN!!!

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

The thing is I used to just kind of really not care one bit about Celeborn. I had no thoughts on him one way or the other. PJ's milk toast Celeborn in the films didn't help and he just never caught my attention much in the books.

BUT then I started writing my Celrond arranged marriage AU and Cel's POVs feature Celeborn a lot, so I was forced to sit down and actually think about him and try to make him interesting. And idk, the more I've fleshed out the Sindar, and Celeborn as a person, the more I've started to like him. He is still not completely blorbo shaped to me, but I do love shipping him with Galadriel in any case.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

Daughter - Sleeping At Last, because I love that song & constantly think about Celeborn in relation to Cel.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Amazing hunter & warrior, awful at politics. That's Galadriel's job. He's great at board games though and that's his and Cel's thing!

character asks

[harteatiing]

What would you do if... you're mother fell from Heaven?

send my muse what would you do if... scenarios. // accepting !

" I am confident that God, himself would fall first. My mother was always a devout woman-- kind, honest, not the sort who let her faith make her self-righteous, but the sort who let her faith bolster the good will she already possessed towards others-- She never hurt a soul, even when it would have served her much better to do so. That's the sort of thing that place looks for, yes ? The good-hearted faithful ? If someone like her fell from Heaven, it would have to be because all of Heaven fell. "

A Heaven that would cast out someone like Lydia Hartley... What a laugh.

[shadowpunk]

“  there’s something fascinating about blood.  it’s captivating. ” (language is up to you. :) )

prompt from this post.

Jasper schloss die Augen. Der Wind, der über die weiten Felder der Highlands jagte, wehte ihm die roten Haare ins Gesicht. Ein sanftes Kitzeln auf seiner Haut. Selbst die Luft war anders hier. Frischer. Reiner. Nicht im Geringsten vergleichbar mit der smogverpesteten Luft in Los Angeles. Auch wenn er zugeben musste, dass es ihm vorher nie aufgefallen war, wie schlecht die Luft tatsächlich war. Beinahe gierig sog er die Luft in seine Lungen, genoss das Gefühl wirklich mal durchatmen zu können. Er hatte auf Vika gehört und seine Schuhe ausgezogen, kaum dass er die Möglichkeit dazu bekommen hatte. Das Gras unter seinen Füßen fühlte sich kühl an, angenehm. Ebenfalls etwas, was er schon fast vergessen hatte über all die Jahre. Er konnte sich nicht mal daran erinnern, wann er das letzte Mal tatsächlich barfuß über Gras gelaufen war. „You were right, it really feels great to have grass under bare feet!“ rief er schließlich in Vika‘s Richtung. Diese stand einige Meter entfernt von ihm und hatte sich gerade einer ihrer vielen Pflanzen gewidmet, warf ihm aber ein breites Grinsen zu.

Aus reiner Neugier trat er schließlich zu ihr heran und beäugte die Pflanze ebenfalls. Auf den ersten Blick unterschied sie sich kaum von einer normalen Pflanze, wären da nicht diese winzigen Eigenheiten. Sichtlich fasziniert beobachte er, wie sich die Stränge um Vikas Hand schlängelten, beinahe schon wie eine Schlange. Jedoch wirkte das ganze weitaus weniger beängstigend, als bei einer echten Schlange. Vielmehr wirkte es wie ein Haustier, dass sich seine Streicheleinheiten bei seiner Besitzerin abholen wollte. Vorsichtig streckte er den Zeigefinger nach der Pflanze aus, doch kaum kam er in Kontakt mit ihr, zog diese sich in Sekundenschnelle zurück. „Shit sorry, I didn’t want to scare it.“ sagte er hastig und nahm die Hand wieder zurück. Er fühlte sich schlecht den Moment zwischen den Beiden zerstört zu haben, doch bevor er die Möglichkeit dazu hatte, sich weiter den negativen Gedankengängen hinzugeben, unterbrach Vika diese, indem sie ihn aufforderte ihr zu folgen.

Es war keine Übertreibung ihrerseits gewesen, dass ihr Garten riesig war. Ein wahres Labyrinth und Jasper ermahnte sich innerlich, sich bloß nicht zu weit von ihr zu entfernen. Wenn man sich einmal hier verirrte, würde man mit Sicherheit nicht mehr so schnell wieder herausfinden. Egal wo er hinsah, waren die verschiedensten Blumen, Bäume und andere Pflanzen zu sehen. Eine eindrucksvoller, als die andere. Von den vielen, verschiedenen Gerüchen brauchte man gar nicht erst anzufangen. Die pure Reizüberflutung überforderte ihn beinahe, gleichzeitig konnte er aber auch nicht genug davon bekommen. Vielleicht war das das verführerische Verhalten der Pflanzen, von dem die Fee ihm erzählt hatte.

Er hatte keine Ahnung, wie lange sie durch den Garten gelaufen waren – selbst die Zeit schien hier anders zu vergehen – als sie schließlich vor einer kleinen Pflanze anhielten. Zwischen all den anderen Gewächsen um sie herum, fiel sie eigentlich kaum auf. Wäre da nicht diese unbekannte Stimme, die ganz klar von ihr zu kommen schien. Interessiert neigte er den Kopf zur Seite, während er versuchte sie besser zu verstehen. Doch selbst, als er sich auf die Worte konzentrierte, ergaben sie für ihn nur wenig Sinn. Kaum verwunderlich, wenn man bedachte, dass er kein Gälisch beherrschte. „Is she swearing again?“ fragte er Vika, während die dunklen Augen immer noch auf die Pflanze vor sich gerichtet waren. Sie hatte ihm von der sprechenden Pflanze erzählt, die für ihr Leben gerne fluchte. Mit Sicherheit musste sie es sein, immerhin konnte selbst Jasper sie sprechen hören. Plötzlich fühlte er etwas Warmes über seine Wange laufen. Verwundert hob er die Hand und strich sich über diese, als er Vikas Stimme vernahm, die zu seiner Überraschung fast schon besorgt klang. „What is she saying then?“ fragte er, während er sich die Finger vor das Gesicht hielt. War das Blut? Mit einer Mischung aus Verwirrung und Unwohlsein blickte er zwischen Vika und der Pflanze hin und her, die ihm endlich nach einer gefühlten Ewigkeit eine Antwort gab: „She says: There’s something fascinating about blood.  It’s captivating.”

[serenescribe]

For the writers ask! 🍚 and 🍣

Fic Writer Asks

🍚 What genre do you have the toughest time writing?

good question! really good question! i don't want to list a genre i haven't tried to write before (because it's impossible to know if it would be tough until i try), so i'd probably say, at the moment, romance. or to be more precise, fluffy, sweet romances. slow burns where the focus are solely on the romance. i remember back in 2022, i started working on what was supposed to be a relatively sweet post-canon wedding fic for a different fandom, and then within the first scene it had already spiralled into hurt/comfort vibes. i cannot do this LMAO i need something along with the romance.

(but i don't really have a SUPER hard time writing it... i guess i can only answer this question properly if i attempt to write more genres in the future. i feel like mysteries might be hard for me. or sci-fi.)

🍣 What helps you focus or get in the mood to write?

i don't really have an issue focusing as soon as i get into what i refer to as "the flow" — if i write long enough, something usually clicks and i can keep writing hundreds upon thousands of words. so honestly, just being able to start helps me get into the mood to write.

apart from that... music can spur me and get me motivated, especially if it's music that inspired the current wip. seeing people enjoy my work can also be extremely motivating, as seen with me continuing to mash out chapters with how much people are enjoying glaciers. and if all else fails, i kick on the discord sprinto bot and force myself to get out something, anything.

[firstelevens]

Hi! For the Bake Off AU, I'm begging for a look back at two things in particular (because I'm greedy, no apologies): what was Sam and Bucky's first encounter like? And what was Bucky's final straw that made him realize he actually had feelings for Sam? If you don't get to these that's fine--seriously, thanks for the AU in the first place!

Thank you so much for reading and always having such kind things to say about the AU! As far as realizing his feelings for Sam, rather than a single moment of realization tipping over into big feelings, I think that Bake Off Bucky—to borrow a phrase from Jane Austen—was in the middle before he knew he’d begun. Here’s a first encounter, though!

Admittedly, when Sam had flirted with the Prince Charming looking dude who he met on his morning run, he hadn’t meant for it to be anything more than that. They’d tossed a little friendly trash talk back and forth and that should have been the end of it, except then they’d run into each other while heading back towards the hotel, and it eventually came out that they were both in town for Bake Off.

When his new running buddy—Steve, apparently—had asked whether Sam wanted to join him for breakfast, it had been an easy yes. Other people might not be on reality shows to make friends, but Sam has been cracking jokes for weeks now about Bake Off essentially being summer camp, and what’s summer camp without camp friends?

They’d chatted companionably on their way to the diner that had apparently been recommended to Steve by a friend (it had sounded like his name was Dumb-Dumb, but Sam was fairly certain he’d misheard it), and Sam had asked whether Steve had run into any other fellow contestants yet. He’d been expecting to hear about a run-in in the lobby or a shared ride from the airport, but instead Steve had lit up and animatedly begun explaining how his best friend had applied for Bake Off, too, just so Steve wouldn’t have to go through the process alone, and they’d both ended up getting cast in the season.

It’s an admittedly sweet gesture, and from the other ways that Steve describes his best friend, Sam is expecting the person who’s joining them for breakfast to have the same golden retriever energy that Steve does. Their booth has Sam facing the door, so he glances up at it periodically as he and Steve get their coffee and look through the menu.

The first time the door opens, it’s an elderly lady who takes a seat at the counter. 

The second time, it’s a delivery.. 

The third time, it’s a broad-shouldered dude wearing all black and a scowl.

Sam turns to Steve, who’s busy stirring cream into his coffee. “Are you sure your friend didn’t get lost? Should you call him or something?”

“I’m sure he’s fine; it just takes him a while to get moving in the mornings,” Steve says, waving a hand. “He once called me a masochist for getting up before six to run.”

Sam starts to laugh, but breaks off as he watches Tall Dark and Broody whip off his sunglasses, craning his neck to look around the restaurant like maybe if he squints hard enough, a patron will appear who’s not Sam or Steve or the old lady at the counter. His eyes land on their booth and he makes eye contact with Sam, who offers a bland but pleasant smile.

It’s not meant to look inviting, but the guy walks over to them anyway, looking as wary as Sam feels. Finally, Steve seems to realize that something is happening, and he follows Sam’s gaze, peering over his shoulder to see who’s coming towards them.

As soon as he spots Broody, he brightens, waving him over.

“You made it!” says Steve, and Sam feels his eyes widen slightly in realization. “I thought for sure we’d have to wait another hour.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” is the all but growled reply, but Steve seems undeterred.

“Sam,” he says, “this is my best friend Bucky. Buck, this is Sam. He’s going to be on the show with us.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky,” says Sam, smiling at him like he’s not completely baffled.

Bucky—which, what the hell kind of a name is Bucky? is this guy an animated woodland creature?—looks at Sam with wide eyes for a moment and then grunts a, “Likewise.”

Before either of them can say anything else, Steve’s phone rings.

“It’s Peggy,” he says, as he checks the screen. “I’ve gotta take this. Sorry guys, just order without me; I’ll be back in a second.”

They don’t have the chance to agree or disagree; Steve has the phone to his ear before he’s even halfway to the door. Both of them watch the door swing shut behind him, then make eye contact.

Bucky looks away first, sliding into the side of the booth where Steve was sitting. The server materializes to fill up his coffee cup, and he quietly thanks her before grabbing the sugar shaker.

The silence drags on for another minute, both of them drinking their coffee without a word, before Sam can’t bear it anymore. Because Steve is the only thing the two of them have in common, and Sam knows like, three things about him, he chooses to ask,  “So I’m guessing Peggy is the fiancé?” 

He gets another wide-eyed look of surprise in response. Bucky’s eyes are very blue, he notes.

“Steve mentioned his time in the Army.” Then, not that he thinks it’ll make a difference either way, Sam adds, “I was Air Force.”

“Oh,” says Bucky. “Uh, yeah, Peggy is Steve’s fiancé.”

“Cool,” says Sam. “I guess maybe planning a wedding makes a baking competition look like a breeze by comparison, huh?”

There’s a vague grunt of assent from Bucky, but in fairness, he’s taking a sip of coffee.

Sam follows suit, just to have something to do that isn’t asking inane questions, but Bucky isn’t exactly doing the heavy lifting, and there’s no way that Sam can bail without being rude, so he puts on his interviewer hat and plows through. “So Steve said y’all are from New York?”

Bucky nods. “Brooklyn.” After a second, miraculously, he adds, “What about you?”

“Just outside New Orleans,” Sam says, grinning just at the thought of his hometown. “Little place called Delacroix, but I live up in DC now.”

He hears Bucky draw in a breath like he’s going to say something, but then the server appears to take their orders. Bucky orders for Steve just as easily as he did for himself, and he’s polite enough to the server that Sam concludes his lack of conversation is more to do with the fact that it’s before 8 AM than some personal grudge.

“Should we have ordered for Steve?” asks Sam, once their coffee cups have been refilled and the server has walked away. “I kind of get the feeling it’ll be cold by the time he finishes up.”

“Just keeping things moving,” says Bucky, shrugging.

“What, you’ve got somewhere you need to be?”

“No, but if Steve has to wait for his own food, he’s gonna eat mine.”

“Ah, and you never learned to share in kindergarten. Got it.”

Bucky’s voice is dry. “Spoken like someone who’s never offered Steve Rogers a single fry and watched them all disappear in thirty seconds.”

Sam laughs, partly in amusement and partly in surprise, and Bucky’s face immediately goes pink as he looks back down at his coffee cup.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” says Sam. “Now I know ‘sharing is caring’ doesn’t apply to Steve.”

There’s a huff from the other side of the table that might be a laugh, but it’s muffled by Bucky’s coffee cup, so Sam can’t be sure. 

He’ll take the win anyway.

[positivelybeastly]

"There was a momentary wobble of a finger, a halting breath - before the scalpel moved, the gleaming stainless steel tip pressing to warm, unmoving flesh, unzipping the thin layer of - in front of the - that covered the, sternum, that . . .

Blood.

A clatter, a turn of a stomach. And then warm, pale fingers on the back of his neck, and Henry went stiff, feeling the familiar touch of his - mentor's hand on the so very human looking flesh of his neck."

[At the risk of tossing in the entire post, I will just include this portion. Amazing. Spectacular. Incredible.]

You do me entirely too much credit, friend. 🩵

So, this was something I've been wanting to write for a while now - the creation of Dark Beast, so many years ago in the Age of Apocalypse - and it's mostly because we have no idea what his early life was actually like. We can guess a bit, based on what we know about 616 Hank and how his early life went, but the Age of Apocalypse is a goddamn nuclear mutant supremacist nightmare, so we have to assume things went very differently.

When you start to fill in the holes in a character's history, you generally - or, well, I do, anyway - look at what you know about that character and then extrapolate backwards, and something that's always struck me about Dark Beast is his relationship with fear.

He clearly loves to instil it in others, clearly revels in being a figure of horror and power, but this isn't something you really see in Hank, he does exactly the opposite, he minimises, he clowns, he dresses and accessorises to make himself seem less threatening.

In Hank's case, that's a reaction to people seeing him as a threat, despite what he has to offer. Even when he looks human, he's afraid of being recognised as a mutant, and kinda rightly so - the instant he displays his talents, someone tries to take advantage of him, his parents get a little freaked out, and his life crumbles. But that's in a society that values normalcy, that values the human baseline.

So what does that look like in a society that values the 'abnormal,' that values mutant power? Suddenly, Dark Beast is, at least to start with, weak. He's fleshy, he's human looking, he just has big hands and feet, he's barely a mutant in the visual sense - and the only valuable thing about him is his brain, which is where Sinister comes in.

In the comics, they have an odd relationship - not quite peers, not quite enemies, not quite rivals, something all mixed up and strange, and I've always interpreted it as vaguely parental, or, at least, as parental as it gets with someone like Sinister. But he's also clearly afraid of Sinister. The entire reason he swapped places with Hank in the 90s was because he wanted to hide in plain sight, from a "very powerful man."

So, we can assume a mentor-student relationship that was - not kind. We also know that Dark Beast doesn't really know his family, since he doesn't recognise his grandmother's name in the issue where he nearly kills Hank's parents, so we have to assume he was taken young. Now, this upbringing can't have been fun by any measure, but Sinister isn't the type to just start beating and abusing a kid with obvious incredible mental gifts, so he has to be - gentle. By his standards, anyway.

Which means . . . well, there's no real way around it, grooming. I don't think in a sexual manner, but to try and mould a young Dark Beast into a worthy pupil, absolutely. Look, all the books you could want to read, a safe place in this hellish environment, freedom to do as you wish - by comparison, he has it good. And even if I doubt there was any real warmth there, it's easy to imagine Dark Beast feels indebted. A degree of attachment to the only caretaker he's ever really known. A need to impress, which is something that 616 Hank feels very often as well, a need for validation, which is so easily manipulated.

So, you have all of this incredible mental pressure being applied to this young kid, and he's trying so hard to perform.

"There was a momentary wobble of a finger, a halting breath - before the scalpel moved, the gleaming stainless steel tip pressing to warm, unmoving flesh"

In this little opening, you don't get Henry's name in narration, it's just his actions. He wobbles, he breathes heavy, the scalpel moves as if on its own, and it's partly because he's trying to remove himself from this equation, trying to separate his consciousness from what he's actually doing, but it's also because Sinister is sucking the air out of the room and exerting his control over his protege. There is no autonomy here, there is no Sinister and his student, it's just Sinister and the extension of his will. There's just fear, and tension, and disappointment, and a child being forced to hurt someone because it's what his caretaker expects of him.

"unzipping the thin layer of - in front of the - that covered the, sternum, that . . ."

This is Henry trying desperately to keep this clinical, but I think that there's still too much warmth in him to keep that straight, so he keeps fumbling, like a kid being put on the spot in a classroom and trying to find the right page in the book that'll get him out of trouble. He can't detach himself, it's still his fingers hurting someone.

There's a reason you do so much training to be a surgeon, you have to learn so much about adopting the proper mental state and schooling your emotions, but with Sinister? No. You do it when I tell you to do it, and if you feel anything about it, then that's your personal failing. That's the weak, human part of you that our society despises.

"Blood. A clatter, a turn of a stomach.""

It's one thing to start cutting, it's another to see someone bleeding. We don't even know how much there was, how much Henry's actually cut, but it's enough that it's all he can focus on, that little bloom around the scalpel tip means that this is real. This isn't a medical textbook, this isn't a cadaver, this is someone who is still alive and that is -

He can't stand it.

I also like creating a mental soundscape and letting the reader's brain fill in the blanks - it's fine but a tad boring to just write that he dropped the scalpel and he feels sick. But if there's a clatter, you, the reader, know exactly what happened, except now you've heard the sound in your head, you've put yourself just a little bit in Henry's shoes, even if you're only hearing what he's hearing. Especially in introspective pieces like this, it's really important to try and foster a connection between the reader and the character.

"And then warm, pale fingers on the back of his neck, and Henry went stiff, feeling the familiar touch of his - mentor's hand on the so very human looking flesh of his neck."

Something I love to play around with is very exacting use of bold and italics. I find it creates a good sense of cadence and rhythm, and denotes an easy signifier of something being important and worth dwelling on - it draws the eye, so you focus on it. You ask, why that word, and especially depending on what you surround it with, it can denote such passion and warmth, or cold, lip curled disgust.

This is probably the most basic literary technique ever, but it's still important because you want to start layering in your themes as early as possible, and while the degree to which this society hates human appearances will become much clearer later, the sooner it becomes apparent that it's significant, the better. You need to understand what would drive Dark Beast to, in a way, mutilate himself with his forced mutation - what drives him to such self-hatred of his body that he changes it completely?

(I'll also confess, I lifted some dialogue from the comic where Hank changes himself into the Beast for this fic, but altered it to fit Dark Beast instead. Instead of ego, it's fear. And I stole the unique narration because I just love the way this issue plays out and the way the story is told, the way that it frames Hank as this dumb kid making a mistake that might ruin his life forever. It felt appropriate.)

I also like to play with dashes in sentences. You can create such a sense of a mental lurch, of a pause to consider your thoughts, a sense of pregnancy and choosing your words carefully. It allows you to align what seems to just be narration from an omniscient writer, i.e. me, with the character. Suddenly, it's not me writing about Sinister's hand around Henry's neck, suddenly the narration has naturalistically become Henry's, coloured by his thoughts and feelings and emotions.

So, yeah! That's my commentary! Hope you enjoyed it!

[youngeditor1999]

Sharpay and Zeke should’ve been endgame !!

I completly agree!!!

I know that Sharpay was a little annoyed by him in the beginning (especially in the first one!) but then by then end, after it was revealed that he did some baking for her, she liked him a lot!!

They both would have been totally supportive of each other while also letting the other be independant and do their own thing. 💞

I understand why the writers/producers/creators of High School Musical needed to make Sharpay have this big thing for Troy, but it would have made a lot more sense if by the third one, she realized all along that Zeke was the right one for her. <3