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lordsister · 4 years ago

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Until Next Time (Nobunaga Oda x Reader)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Nobunaga Oda x Reader

Prompt #1: “Why do you write? he asked. So I can take my love for you and give it to the world, I reply. Because you won’t take it from me.” - Lang Leav

Prompt #2: “I didn’t think you were the type to lose your sanity for a girl.” “I didn’t either.”

Warning: None! Slight angst, I guess?

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 775

Ko-fi: Click here to support me on ko-fi!<3

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Sengoku or any of its characters. All of that loveliness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: This is @rikumorimachisgirl‘s prize for winning third place in my 1000 follower raffle. Merry Christmas, dear!! I hope you enjoy what I came up with!💕 It was my pleasure to write this for you!

Tag list: @yesmarsx @nad-zeta @jiyuu-chan @chibinerdyfangirl @kisara-16 @cheese-ception @cailann @vespeshadowmoon @ravenarld

Let me know if you would like to be (un)tagged!💜

Drip, drip, drip splatters of black ink made dark exclamations across the paper, but you didn’t care.

Your eyes ached with the strain of writing in the dim, the shadows of night and succor of sleep fended off by the paper lantern lit in the corner of your room and the throbbing need in your gut that forced you to put brush to paper again and again. Whatever drowsiness you had felt after a long day of work disappeared under a sudden bout of yearning that made your heart pound and filled your veins with a burst of lovesick adrenaline.

It was tiring, loving and loving with nowhere to go. You’d tried to throw yourself into your work, into sewing and your duties as chatelaine, but it had only worked for a time, and mildly at best, taking the edge off a hunger that would never be satisfied as far as you knew. This - writing out your love in stories and poems and personal accounts and whatever else came to mind - was the only thing that had really had any effect, leaving your heart a little lighter and allowing you to sleep peacefully at night without twisting and turning to dreams of red eyes and an arrogant smile.

If only he’d let you love him, let you take away the trauma and pain, but the task he’d set for himself wasn’t finished yet, not by a long shot, so he would continue to hold you close at arms’ length, near but far, until he could allow himself to slip, to be vulnerable for you. After it was all over, he promised you...

Shaking your head, you pressed the brush down more harshly. There was no reason for you to torture yourself by going down that path again, thinking that maybe it was actually because you just weren’t enough, unworthy to stand at the side of the great Nobunaga Oda. He didn’t want to accept your love yet? Fine. But you wouldn’t give him the relief of your love only when it was convenient for him.

With no outlet for your love you would write it, every word, every emotion, every bit of pain and anger and oh so stubborn love that refused to be quelled no matter how much you tried to put the feelings away, to hold his promise close and stay far away from him at the same time.

“Why do you write?” he’d once asked, red eyes curiously soft as they met yours.

“So I can take my love for you and give it to the world,” you’d replied. You’d wanted to scream at him, to punish him for dangling you on a string, but instead all you’d been able to do was smile, sadly, but understandingly. “Because you won’t take it from me.”

The screen door slid open behind you, but by then you had long since succumbed to the growing heaviness behind your eyelids, slumped over your writing desk and smudging words of choked adoration not yet dried.

…

...

Thick, calloused fingers wove through your hair, careful not to disturb you as you slept. A soft sigh passed your parted lips as you turned into the familiar warmth of the man holding you, your cheek to his broad chest as you fell still once more. Nobunaga drank all of it in, using the sight of you asleep in his arms to tide himself over until the next time he needed you close.

He didn’t regret his actions towards you. It was a necessary sacrifice if he wanted to focus on unification, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel the ache of your absence acutely. You belonged beside him, smiling that smile that came so rarely in this warring age.

Now, holding you like this, perfect and peaceful and everything he wanted in a vulnerable, innocent little bundle, it was almost enough to make him regret for the first time in his life.

He heard Mitsuhide sigh from the hallway and had half a mind to glare at the other man for interrupting one of the few moments he could steal with you, doubtless there to discuss his latest act of cunning. “I didn’t think you were the type to lose your sanity for a girl.”

Nobunaga chuckled, pressing his lips to your hair and breathing deeply. “I didn’t either.”

When you woke up the next morning tucked safely in your futon you would be none the wiser to his visit. The love in your heart would sit quietly until the time he would accept it, his whispered promise lingering against your skin like a blessing.

All until next time...

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dat-town · 4 years ago

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Busan drift

Characters: racer!Felix & racer!You

Setting : street racing au (all I know is coming from the Fast & Furious franchise so excuse my shitty knowledge about cars and races)

Summary: A new face around the races in your beloved seaside town always means trouble, especially if he’s as cocky and arrogant as that mysterious silver-haired guy seems.

Warning: nothing really apart from good ol’ competitiveness

Words: 4.7k

For the one and only @lily-blue! Love ya, dear! ♥

There's a smug smile playing on your lips the moment you cross the finish line, tires screeching against the asphalt as you step on the break and take a perfect U-turn to park your car in the middle of the impressed crowd. Adrenalin still rushes through your veins just as the car's engine still rumbles under you and fingers warm against the wheel, you let the satisfying feeling of winning hype you up before opening your door.

"That's my girl!" Chan welcomes you with a proud smile stretching over his lips, big palm patting you on the blade bones in congratulations before anyone else could. You grin at the brunette and reciprocate Changbin's half hug within the circle of your friends and admirers.

"Today's on me," you holler in the air followed by loud cheers and you know you gotta claim your prize for today's race before the sore losers would ruin your fun with their bitterness. A race is a race, there are no rules, so they cannot even call you out on cheating because technically there's nothing you could have done wrong. And well, everybody would laugh at them if they had to turn to such techniques against a girl.

It took you some time and definitely some nerve and thick skin to earn yourself a reputation and a title but by now, the Busan streets are like your playground and everybody who matters in this scene knows your name. You're the first girl who has ever won the local annual street race after all. Of course, you couldn't have done it alone. If it wasn't for your friends then you would have been nowhere near your current place. A lot of things had lead you to where you are now starting from your long friendship with Jisung who was your classmate in middle school. He introduced you to his friends, Changbin and Chan with whom you hit it off quite quickly. The eldest boy already had an interest in cars then and he was the one who taught you the most about how to pick a vehicle apart and then put it together thanks to his accurate technical knowledge. Changbin has been out on the streets for quite a while too, while Jisung mainly deals with the competitions: he gets the info about them, gathers maps about the routes and handles the prize money to make the most out of the cars.

But a bit of celebration never hurts, so you're off to go to your usual favourite place with the nice amount of cash in your hands when somebody steps in front of your and you have to halt your action. Annoyed, you look up at the tall guy in front of you and first, you think he must be one of those racers whom you left behind during the latest race. However, you are quite surprised when you see an unfamiliar face.

Busan might be a big city but the street racing scene isn't so big that you wouldn't know your competitors. It actually makes your job even easier because every driver has their signature type of driving and knowing them enables you to use this knowledge against them without them knowing.

"Impressive race," the stranger comments with a twitch in the corner of his mouth and you're once again taken aback but this time, it's because of the depth of his voice. He spoke up quietly but the deep rumbling resonated through the area.

"Thanks," you hum, not knowing why he has to stand in your way but at least, the guy doesn't waste your time and goes straight to the point:

"I can beat you, though," he claims confidently and he had some guts, you have to give him that but you laugh at his claim nevertheless. Not because you are that full of yourself that you think nobody can be better than you but taken the current circumstances it seems highly unlikely since you know the route well and newbie amateurs aren't competitors to you anyway.

"Ooooh do we have a Seoul boy here?" you raise a brow checking him out from head to toe not too impressed. He has slick, perfectly styled silver hair, showing off his undercut and dangling silver ear piercings. His facial features are defined by his high cheekbones, well-defined eyebrows and jaw as sharp as a knife. His dark eyes are like the night filled with fierce passion instead of stars.

Everybody can tell easily that he didn't belong here. It isn't just the expensive watch on his wrist or his weird dialect but the way he carries himself. There's some arrogance in it, as if he had some kind of privilege over countryside folks like you. But pity for him, whoever treats him as if he was a little prince, nobody here cares. He could have been the son of the president and nobody would have given a shit about his family background. On the Streets, nothing else matters just raw talent and what you have built for yourself. He couldn't just walk in him acting like he owned the place. That's very far from the truth and you take it upon yourself, enlightening him.

"You don't know how things work around here, do you? You can't just challenge someone like that," you tell him firmly and the crowd around you provides the sounds effects, gasping as if the guy just got burnt. He, however, doesn't seem too bothered. He merely raises an eyebrow back at you.

"Why? Are you afraid?" he mocks you, deep voice reminding you of deep waters. You wonder briefly whether it is possible to drown in a voice.

"Of course not," you snort since that's a ridiculous guess. Why would you have been afraid? Statistically he has like 1 to 100 chance to win against you. Busan is a maze made of beach strolls, mountain roads and tricky underpasses. Unlike him, you know these all too well, not used to the straight and wide roads of the capital city. "But I don't have to explain myself to someone who don't know or respect our rules. Educate yourself first."

You don't do it on purpose but the crowd around you seems to enjoy your remarks. However, the guy doesn't seem to take it to heart.

"Oh I know you have this open popup competition thing going on," he shrugs nonchalantly speaking so ignorantly talking about how your races are held that it rubs you off the wrong way. Doesn't he get that randomly getting notified of where and when the races are held meant that you have to be ready all the time?

" I was just wondering whether you were up for an off-competition race. Think of it like a challenge. I will be here same time tomorrow," he said and flashed you a smirk before turning on his heels and leaving the scenes while being watched by numerous baffled eyes including yours.

"So… drinks?" Jisung broke the silence with his hopeful question and everybody seemed to share the sentiment.

Originally, you didn’t want to care about arrogant guys’ any random challenge because you knew that if you agreed to one, then more would come after him and each of them would call you a coward if you turned any down. However, as Changbin reminded you that stranger boy with his ridiculous undercut called you out in front of a crowd, letting everyone know about the time and place, so you could be pretty sure there would be quite an audience there later that day with or even without you. You hated to give in like that, but you pretty much have no choice but to go there and teach that brat a lesson. That things weren’t played like this on your streets.

"Yah yah yah, guys! You won't believe this!" Jisung runs to the garage where you're currently trying to start the engine when Chan, the one working on the gears, tells you, too. Jisung looks dishevelled and a bit panicked, so it should be something important. Keyword is should because he tends to act so dramatic even because of stuff like a slightly burnt toast.

"What?" you turn towards him, having the urge to ruffle his already messy hair. Since you have a pretty casual brother-sister-like relationship with each guy on your team, it wouldn’t be something weird or out of line. However, you stay in place and turn the keys as Chan taps on the car hood, getting the engine finally fumbling under his handyman hands.

"The guy, you know, from yesterday… I found out who he is!" Jisung tells you all too proudly but he seems to jittery over such information. You guessed he must be a nobody from Seoul thinking car races on the streets of Busan are similar to the ones he had back at home, you even played with the idea, he only knew stuff like a wheel and gears from arcade games. However, when you shoot an uninterested look at Jisung, he whips out his phone and shoves a website into your face with the guy's unimpressed face on it.

He looks somewhat younger in the picture and his hair is wavy blonde instead of the short-cut silver like now but it really is him. That arrogant look in his eyes rubs you off the wrong way just by looking at his image with the description calling him Felix Lee.

"He's a legit car racer! The youngest one in the Australian national team!" Jisung basically shouts and your attention drifts to the headline of the article claiming that the boy abruptly moved to Korea.

Maybe you should be intimidated but you just snort. He acted so almighty just because he used to play with those super expensive toy cars within the set route of an arena? Hah, he would fail badly on the roads, especially if he isn't used to being done dirty by other racers. It wasn't some Formula 1 here, you have no such rules.

"And? I can still beat his ass," you claimed confidently, knowing your skills. Winning against a newbie in street racing would be easy as a pie.

"Still, keep it in mind that he isn't as clueless as we thought. He knows cars and is probably good under pressure," Chan a.k.a the voice of reason reminded you. You know that it's important to not underestimate your enemy but you're too annoyed by this prick and his arrogant attitude.

"Sure, but we know that area better than anyone. I have raced there multiple times, I know the shortcuts and the dangerous turns. There's no way he could do better on first try," you claim fairly sure of yourself and you glance at the time, seeing you have a few more hours until you have to be there, at the bay, behind that warehouse with Hyundai written on its side.

"Don't be like that, guys, no need to get stressed, she will show him how it's done in Busan. He'll get the authentic taste of losing," Changbin speaks up waking from his nap and you grin at him, giving him a high five in gratitude for his support. You know that the others worry for your sake too but you don't need that, there's nothing to be anxious about.

Or so you thought.

You start to get second thoughts when arriving to the venue you see Lee I Think I'm The Best Felix's car. A beautiful white Toyota Supra 2020. The paint on the sides seems brand new, the red strikes powerful and the smoke effect makes it aesthetic. But too bad, pretty cars are worth nothing if the engine is cheap and weak. But the thing is, you know this car. Or at least the type and you have been meaning to get your hands on one for literal years! It's just super rare and hella expensive. All your savings from competitions wouldn't be enough to get one. And now you're not only annoyed by the guy's behaviour but also envious of him. Huh, such a showoff though. Or rather a coward, you would like to think. Coming to race against you with a car that's being said to have one of the best acceleration speed. Compared to that, your baby is a veteran Nissan, having been used years and fixed up by Chan numerous times. But it's still running on high speed and you're familiar with every little thing, how to drift or how to use your nitro smartly, because of course, you have upgraded it over the years, even hand painted the 4RACHA sign onto its side.

"So… you came," the guy pushes himself away from his car, arms crossed against his chest and you don't like his content, bright smile. He seems genuinely glad to see you and seeing how much the crowd fawns over his fancy car, you're sure he came here to show off.

"Can't have you think you can just walk into Busan so mighty," you roll your eyes, adding internally: can't have him think you were a coward.

"Well, you can show me my place then," he chuckles all too amused and you press your lips together disapproving. You don't like how relaxed he is. As if he's already won regardless the result of the race.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna let you know about today's race to keep it fair and unbiased," atall, blonde haired guy from the Streets community walked up to you. Hyunjin is one of the organizers of the weekly and annual events too. They decide the routes, the prizes, the time and they invite everyone involved. They are pretty much the center of the Busan street race competition.

"I will be the one drawing the flag, you will receive the GPS coordinate you have to reach, there's no advised route. We will monitor where you are and see if you reach the point. The first one who makes it back will be the winner. Is it clear?" he asks looking from the new guy to you and when your eyes meet, you see his mouth turn slightly upward.

His smile has gotten you into trouble before and stupidly you still feel that nostalgic fondness towards your ex-boyfriend. It's been a while since you broke up due to the rumours that him giving out info helped you win so many races but you still care about him to a certain extent. You would have liked to stay friends but in this competitive world it's better not to keep too close attachments between organizers and racer. Too many people badmouth those.

"Sure thing," the newbie grins and you just nod. You have already known this after all.

"Alright, then get ready," Hyunjin tells you, a wavy blonde lock falling ahead into his eyes from his manbun.

You shot one last look at the silver-haired guy and his shining dark orbs before turning on your heels you sit back into your car after receiving encouragement from your friends and some regular viewers.

Sitting behind the wheels you already see the red dot lighting up on your integrated GPS map and already know you will go along the shore to go there instead of across the town. Less distractions and obstacles.

Once Hyunjin and some others you know through the races send the crowd a bit farther, giving the two lined up cars enough space around the starting line. Your ex takes the black flag and white you use for such purposes and stands in front of you, between the black Nissan and the white Toyota. You start your engine, running it, warming it up while he waves the flag above his head. You hear the counting down, the echoes in the back of your mind and when Hyunjin suddenly brings the sign down, you step on the gas, car shooting ahead next to the guy's.

He speeds up quickly too, even getting a meter or two ahead of your car and when you reach a one small alley between two containers, you have no other choice but to step on the break to get behind him and not run into that metal monstrum. But you grin nevertheless because this way, you can watch him take a right turn going into the suburbs not knowing about the tricky little streets and the business of that area around these hours. On the other hand, you take the empty road alongside the beach, going at a high speed already.

It makes you slightly anxious that you don’t see him and don’t know how he’s keeping up but then Changbin basically screams into your earpiece you usually wear during races in case you can get insights from the guys.

“You gotta speed up, honey, because that kid is crazy. He’s going at a breakneck speed even in traffic,” he tells you sounding astonished himself while monitoring the GPS signals of the two cars.

“What the hell,” you murmur under your nose and step on the gas even more, paying extra attention at that 90° turn at the end of the road before you’d end up in the sea. You cannot lose to that arrogant bastard, you tell yourself and pass by a few cars as you got into the port area driving towards the assigned point.

Your Nissan Silvia slides out to the main road just before the white Toyota and your grit your teeth that he’s so freaking close to you. The two of you race towards the crossroad that seems to be the point that the organizers appointed as your first goal. However, going ahead is too big of a detour, so you know that you have the best chance to take a U-turn which is kind of crazy at the speed you’re going. But good for you, your car was basically made for drifting and you’re pretty good at taking well-aimed sharp turns.

So just before reaching the crossroad you keep accelerating, only to take your footing off the gas and you pull the handbrake in when you hear the GPS exclaim that ‘You’ve reached your destination’. The sudden stop makes the back wheels lose grip and you feel the force weight shift, the seatbelt keeping your body still despite the car’s yanking and when you see the road you’ve just taken now you let go off the brakes, stepping onto the gas hard. Leaving nothing but screeching sound and your traces on the concrete behind, you speed up again.

Your heart still beats overdrive when you take a quick look in the rear mirror checking on the guy and you’re quite annoyed to see him not too much behind. He’s keeping up well, you have to admit and you hate that. You’re used to being able to predict the result at this point of a race.

“You’re doing great, just keep that distance between you,” Changbin tries to soothe your nerves, knowing you all too well and you bite your tongue to not make a repost at such a useful advice.

Instead, you take the turn back to the beach but this time, the Australian guy follows you and no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of him. The closer you get to the finishing line, the more nervous you get wondering what he’s planning, whether he wants to pull a dirty trick on you but in the end, it’s your car that crosses the line first, his a few meters behind and the most annoying thing is that you aren’t sure he wouldn’t have been able to pass you by if he really tried.

So why? Why did he challenge you only to lose? You just can’t wrap your mind around it.

Maybe that’s why when you walk around with two beers in your hands and you approach him when you spot him in the midst of talking and dancing people at this impromptu party someone’s high quality loudspeakers and the music coming from them causes with the amount of alcohol present.

“Here,” you hold a beer out for him to take. You try to sound nonchalant but you aren’t so sure that you managed to do that based on the look he gives you.

Felix or how the hell he likes to be cold, looks up at you with pure surprise written over his features. He has shred off his black leather jacket since the last time you have seen him get out of his car and in the plain white shirt beneath he looks somewhat softer than before. Or it might be because of his expression as well because there’s nothing arrogant about him as he takes the can from your hand.

“Thanks,” he murmurs in his deep voice although he stares at you so doubtful as if he was expecting for a long scolding or at least a prank pulled on him. You want to laugh at that thought because you really aren’t that scary or intimidating .But okay, maybe you have those deadly glares like Jisung likes to state. (But maybe if he learned not to put your stuff away then you wouldn’t look at him like that.)

You don’t even ask, you just plop down next to the guy, sitting in front of the Toyota and watching the starry night above the Busan beach. He doesn’t ask why you do so when a few hours before you were so keen on proving him wrong and then celebrating with your friends that you indeed did. He doesn’t question you but you can feel his eyes on you even when he speaks up.

“That drift was pretty sick. You almost lost me there for a minute or so.”

He doesn’t say it like ‘wow you are a girl but you can drive’ which would have been kind of offensive but he seems truly impressed by your skills and that feels nice. You being a girl does not limit you in anything and it’s nice to hear others admit it as well. Bad for him, you’re not that good of letting go of your grunge even if it’s that baseless like the one you had against him for being rich show off kid with no talent. Although you would only take back the last part.

“Thanks. You weren’t that bad either, I guess,” you mumble out though and that’s already something from you! Changbin could tell him about it. You’re too competitive to admit something like that so carelessly.

“You guess,” he laughs at that, genuine and carefree. He has a nice laugh. It goes surprisingly high-pitch compared to his deep voice.

He doesn’t seem too stiff or distant, so you decide to break the ice and not beat around the bush. You have always been straightforward in your own way. And maybe that can of beer you have already drowned after the race helps your tongue to get loose too.

“I heard you were a professional car racer. Why did you stop?” you ask, turning your head towards him, eyeing the pretty freckles over his cheeks and the way those silver strands sometimes get into his forehead. The thought of him messy haired and unstyled makes him younger in your eyes, more like his age. As someone who had been competing on the big screen from the age of sixteen. Like Chan said, that must have been quite the pressure and you wonder whether he ever felt so threatened like you did when he challenged you the day before.

“Oh so you did your research…” The boy turns around you, raising an eyebrow with a smug smile tugging on his lips and you want to smack him because of the teasing in his voice.

“I did not! Don’t get ahead of yourself!” You snort instead, rolling your eyes at him. You really did not, but if he doesn’t believe the truth like this, you won’t waste more time trying to convince him otherwise. Then, your comment is followed by silence and for a minute you think that he wouldn’t answer which you would understand. You’re a stranger after all. But in the end he shrugs, but his voice is sad.

“It’s just the typical sad reason. I don’t need your pity,” he says turning his gaze onto the floow, fingers intertwined in front of him and there’s a certain tenseness in his bones and moves.

“Oh I’m the last person who would pity someone who walked into my playground as if he was about to take it over,” you bite there, a bit playfully though and the racer laughs at that again, ruffling his silver locks casually in the meantime.

“My grandmother fell ill and someone has to be there for her, so I came back to Korea. I love being here though and grandma is the sweetest, I just miss racing,” he tells you in the end, words slurring together from the speed he’s talking but you guess he just wanted to get over with it quickly, like tearing off a plaster.

You can tell that he’s being sincere about his words, both about his love and caree towards his ill grandmother and his craving to race again. You can understand that, missing the feeling of the engine starting up under you, radiating through your body, missing the adrenaline and excitement of drifts and jumps, feeling like you're flying. That’s the only thing you’re really good at and you’re so invested that you don’t know what you would do if suddenly it wasn’t in your life. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. Maybe he’s just the same and he called you out only to feel that rush again. That’s why winning didn’t matter to him.

“You can always come and compete here,” so you tell him, letting him know that he’s welcomed to come back, to join the Streets and before he would think you have become sentimental, you gently tap the hood of the Toyota behind you. “It would be a pity to waste the potential of this beautiful car of yours.”

A soft smile appears on the boy’s face that only widens once he comes up with something equally teasing.

“You can drive it if you want,” he offers as if he didn’t care about the millions he spent on this car. He really must have grown up in a rich household.

“So generous,” you snort playfully. Although, if he’s being serious then holy shit, really? It would be a dream to drive such a car.

But the racer just chuckles, not getting offended by your remark. Then, out of blue, he adds: “I’m Felix by the way.”

“I know,” you hum, uninterested. At least you pretended to be seemingly. Once word got around that he came back to Korea, apparently everybody has been talking about him.

“I never caught your name though,” You raise a brow at that. “Everybody calls you on all sorts of nicknames.”

You let out a chuckle at that, it's true though, you're the girl of the Streets. Obviously not the only one but the best racer of them for sure, so the guys here treat you like their sister.

“Well, you can always ask. I’m pretty sure my friends would be happy to tell you,” you sigh, knowing your friends all too well. Sure, they wouldn't give out your contacts to every random stranger but Felix seems harmless. You're pretty sure Jisung would accidentally spill your name anyway.

“Nah. Too easy. I’m considering to ask for another race to earn it,” the silver-haired guy remarks with an elegant raise of his brow and it makes you laugh. He's surprisingly fun to be around if he's willing to go to extremes such as racing to get your name.

“Well, good luck with that,” you snort but without malice this time and clink your can of beer with his for a toast. You barely know him but giving him a chance, you have a good feeling about him with all his giggles. It might be a good start of something new.

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #felix scenarios #felix imagines #lee felix #street racer au #strories

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letterboxd · 4 years ago

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How I Letterboxd #10: Chad Hartigan.

Filmmaker Chad Hartigan talks to Jack Moulton about his prescient new sci-fi romance, Little Fish, why radio silence is worse than a bad review, and his secret system of Letterboxd lists.

Chad Hartigan has won prizes at the Sundance Film Festival and the Film Independent Spirit Awards for his acclaimed films This is Martin Donner and Morris From America. He’s also been a Letterboxd member since way back, joining what he proclaims as “my favorite website” in 2013. Hartigan has always been an obsessive logger: he has transcribed all of his viewing data since 1998 and continues to work on filling in the gaps in his downtime.

Like many ardent Letterboxd members, Hartigan is a diligent list-maker, keeping tabs on his best first viewings of each year and assembling an all-time top 1,000 films over the summer (with an accompanying 26-minute supercut). Perhaps unusually for a member of the film industry on Letterboxd, he’s unafraid to hold back his opinions and regularly voices his critiques on even the most acclaimed films.

Hartigan’s newest film, Little Fish, is a sci-fi love story starring Olivia Cooke (Sound of Metal) and Jack O’Connell (Unbroken). Written by Mattson Tomlin, it’s set during an imagined pandemic—shot long before our own actual pandemic—wherein a disease causes people to lose their memories. It was set to premiere at the 2020 Tribeca Film Festival, and then postponed due to Covid-19. It’s now out in limited theaters and on demand, and we were delighted with the excuse to put Hartigan in the How I Letterboxd spotlight.

Olivia Cooke as Emma and Jack O’Connell as Jude in ‘Little Fish’.

You made a pandemic movie before the pandemic. How do you feel about accidentally hitting that unfortunate zeitgeist and now consequently being asked questions like this one? Yeah, strange. The questions are fine. If it wasn’t this one, it would be another that you would have to answer over and over again. One of the things that drew me to the project was that it felt like a fantasy that wasn’t necessarily rooted in reality in a way that my other [films] were. I liked that it’s old-fashioned in its attempts to purely take you somewhere and wasn’t intended to hold up a mirror to our times—but then in the end that’s exactly what it’s doing. I’m curious myself, and I’m checking Letterboxd to see the reactions from people because I really couldn’t guess what it would have been like [now].

Are there any prescient details you’re proud of getting right? I’m so grateful and happy that Jack [O’Connell] is wearing his mask correctly. That’s the number one thing that I’m glad we got right. I think it was very smart of Mattson to focus the movie on [the relationship] rather than the details of this global pandemic. I feel the reason it’s not in bad taste is because it dealt with those things as a backdrop and instead focused on people just trying to remember what’s important and clinging onto those that they love.

Onto our own favorite memory aid, Letterboxd. How did you discover us and how did you manage without us? I’ve been on since 2013, so I’m probably one of the earliest people to jump on it. I love the interface and the diary, just aesthetically it was really fun. I’ve been keeping track of what I see with analog [methods] for as long as I can remember. I have diaries and planners so I logged all that old information. If I was running for president, my platform would be that everybody is required to use Letterboxd comprehensively, because I just love to know what everybody is watching all the time.

Do you talk about Letterboxd in the real world with the other filmmaking people? Yes, and I’m often trying to convince them to join. Other filmmakers are more concerned about having their opinions on peers be public knowledge than I am, I guess. I’ve made four films now and each one’s been bigger and more widely seen than the last. The very first one was a total no-budget affair that couldn’t get into any festivals and I was very excited when I finally got it into the Hamptons Film Festival. It was about half-full and one or two people came up to me afterwards and said they liked it. This was pre-Twitter so I spent the whole next day Googling to see if anybody had written anything. I was so curious to see what people thought and there was nothing—not a review, not a blog—just total emptiness.

When the next film got into Sundance, there were people tweeting their reactions and actual reviews and I read everything. People were asking if the bad reviews hurt me. Absolutely not—nothing can be worse than the radio silence of nobody caring about the first film. The fact that people care enough to sit and write about this movie—good or bad—is a win, and I’ve carried that onward. I like to see what people think, it can be helpful in how you view the film as a success or failure. You learn and move on.

Jack O’Connell at least remembers how to wear a mask in ‘Little Fish’.

Some filmmakers have told us they’re kinder to films after making their own, but you’re not shy at all about being critical. How did making your own films change your perspective as a critic? I don’t consider myself a critic so that’s why I’d be less concerned with someone reading what I thought. Why should they put any stock into what I think? If they get hung up on it then that’s their own stuff because I’m not a critic. Like everyone else on Letterboxd, I just love watching movies. Obviously I can appreciate and understand some of the technical aspects maybe moreso than people who don’t make films, but at the end of the day, rarely that’s the thing that makes you love a movie or not. There’s a great bit in Francis Ford Coppola’s commentary track for Finian’s Rainbow where Fred Astaire’s doing a dance number and [Coppola admits] he totally messed it up because Astaire’s feet aren’t fully in frame. He’s very honest about his mistakes because it’s one of his earliest movies. Then he goes on to say that he thinks there’s the same number of mistakes in Finian’s Rainbow as there are in The Godfather, it’s just that he made mistakes on the things that don’t matter for The Godfather. No film is perfect, but if it can latch onto this one magical aspect that connects you to it, that’s what makes you love it or not.

You had a project where you chart the best films made by directors at certain ages as you reached that age. Tell us more about it. That was a great project. I got the idea when I was 26. This was back when I had a Netflix DVD subscription and it was just hard for me to randomly choose DVDs to throw in the queue. I needed a system. I decided to watch movies from directors when they were my age and see if there’s some common denominator, something I can learn. At that point, there weren’t many, there were films like Boogie Nights and Fassbinder films. Not many people had made stuff when they were 26 or 27, so it was very feasible. Every year there were more movies and more directors to add to the list and it became time-consuming. I did it all the way up until I was 34 and the reason I stopped was because I had a son and there was no way I could continue this level of viewing output.

My favorite part of your account is the fact that you log every viewing of your own films. You know for a fact that you’ve watched Morris From America 26 times and Little Fish fifteen times. Why do you log them? What counts as a viewing? I’ve clearly watched those movies many more times in little chunks but I’ll only log it if we’re sitting down and watching it from beginning to end. I have a ticket to see Little Fish in the drive-in on Saturday, so it’s going to be logged again. Why do I do it? Like I said, I wish everyone was required to use Letterboxd comprehensively. That’s what it’s there for for me, an accurate log of what I watch. This is psychotic behavior but I’m tempted to have a Letterboxd account for my son. I’ll do his views for him once he starts watching movies until he’s old enough to take over. It’ll just be, like, Frozen a thousand times but he’s not old enough to watch anything yet, so we’ll see.

Have you discovered any films thanks to Letterboxd discourse that influenced your approach to filmmaking? For sure, I can’t maybe say specifically, but once I dropped the directors my own age system I didn’t replace it with nothing. I’m a Virgo and I have a little bit of OCD, so I have to have some system. I’ve replaced it with a new complicated system where I pull from different lists and that’s now my main source of how I choose a movie to watch. I have like ten or twelve different lists, each about a thousand movies with a lot of overlap. One of them is my own list of every movie I’ve seen in a theater and I’ll go and look through that and if it’s something I want to revisit. Recently I rewatched Twister, which I hadn’t seen in a long time and is an old favorite from when I was in high school.

I have a bunch of private lists I cycle through; every movie nominated for a Spirit Award, every movie that’s won an Oscar, every movie that’s played in competition at Cannes, the top 1,000 films at the box office. There’s another great website that I use as a biblical resource which is They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They? and their lists of acclaimed films for all-time and the 21st century. I hit those up often. Something that I watched purely because of the very high Letterboxd rating and really loved is Funeral Parade of Roses. I try to see as many movies as I can that have a 4.0 rating or higher.

You respect the Letterboxd consensus. I do, but I don’t always agree with it.

‘Little Fish’ director Chad Hartigan.

Which is your most underrated or overlooked movie according to Letterboxd? I can say I was the very first person to log a movie called Witness in the City, which is an Italian noir movie I watched when I was doing my ‘directors my own age’ series. Literally nobody had logged it, so my review was like “whoa, I can’t believe I’m the first person to log this!”. It was very exciting for me because it’s great, but I’m the OG logger of that movie.

From your list of every film you’ve seen in a theater since you were twelve, which was your most memorable experience? The cheap answer is that it’s hard to top my own movies. The Sundance premiere of Morris From America at the Eccles Theater is maybe the best, but if I’m disqualifying my own films, seeing Scream 3 in a very packed theater in Virginia Beach was really fun, really rowdy. There was a trailer for a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie and I remember the climax was Van Damme going “you lied to me!!!” and everyone laughed. Someone did a George Costanza move later during Scream 3 and yelled out “you lied to me!!!” and everybody laughed again—so that’s a high. That’s the thing I miss the most about movie theaters, and the worry I have if theaters go away, is that so much of how we feel about a movie can be tied to the experience; who we saw it with, what we did before or after, what the crowd was like, or if anything strange happened. There are a lot of movies I have strong memories and affection for because of the experience of seeing them and I probably wouldn’t feel the same way about if I just watched it at home on my laptop.

I typically like to cap interviews off with what filmmakers thought was the best film of the past year, but we have your data to hand. For you, it’s Garrett Bradley’s documentary Time. Can you talk a bit about what makes the film stand out for you? One thing I learned about myself from the pandemic is that the motivation and desire to see new things is very closely tied to the theater-going experience for me. Once that was taken away and you could watch a new movie at home, it joins the pile of all the other movies. The fact that it’s new doesn’t really do anything for me. Why would I press play on Da 5 Bloods when I still haven’t seen Malcolm X? I gotta see Malcolm X! There wasn’t an urgency, so I saw far fewer films than in an ordinary year. But Time I found incredibly moving and important. Similar to what I liked about the Little Fish script, it’s so hyper-focused on one relationship and within that one story it has so much to say about larger issues and the world at large. It was an emotional and rich viewing experience.

‘Little Fish’ is on demand and playing in select theaters now. Images courtesy of IFC Films.

#little fish #chad hartigan #life in film #film director #letterboxd #how i letterboxd #letterboxd member #letterboxd tips #olivia cook #jack o'connell #romance #romantic film #sci fi romance #pandemic movie #covid movie

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fullyellowsun · 4 years ago

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Subtle | 11

"Christmas Spirit"

I do not own the gif, credit to the owner.

This is my first series so please cut me some slack but also I welcome constructive criticisms! This is in Korean so for those of you who can read Korean and English, go ahead! I will post a full English version link to the Wattpad story in the masterlist!

Pairing: baekhyun x dayeon (reader), sehun x suah, suho x bora, chanyeol x sunny, kai x yoona

Genre: kpop group collaboration!AU

Word Count: 1303 words

Description: Today is the day where they start the process of creating the album book by taking photos! Oh, and it’s Suah’s birthday…

Disclaimer: I have no idea how any of this works. I’m just going off of the little info I DO know so please bear with me as I try to fill the chapters with what I think (or what I just make up) on how to make an album and the other kpop things.

Masterlist

"Cuz we have the Christmas Spirit! 우리는 너와 공유하고 싶다. 우리의 Christmas spirit을 받아들이겠어?"

"안녕하세요! Welcome to our VLIVE! This is our VLIVE for new album 'Christmas Spirit'!" 준면 starts as the directors give us the signal that the cameras are rolling.

"네, how about we introduce ourselves?" Bora says, right next to Suho. Yup. Our first VLIVE's as couples and each of us were sitting next to each other while 종대, 경수, and 민석 sit on the floor. There we 2 couches and 1 large armchair so Bora, 준면, 종인 and Yoona were sitting on the first couch, 선희 (Sunny's real name, Seonhui), Chanyeol, Suah, and Sehun were on the other couch and I was sitting on the large armchair while Dayeon sat on the armrest. This is the first time I saw her in like natural yet not too natural makeup. It was either really natural or really drastic. This was in the middle and th artists did well making her eyes look bigger, even though they were already big, and just making each of her features cohesive. Her outfit went really well with the makeup as well. An oversized knit sweater that I recognized as mine with mom jeans and a cute light up reindeer headband. Her hair, perfectly curled, sat on her shoulders nicely and overall, she looked like the star of the show.

"Ah, 네, I guess I'll start. 안녕하세요, 엑소 리다 수호 입니다." He bows formally. I was so close to yawning. This was as boring as we first met.

"안녕하세요." I snap out of it when I hear her voice. Oh, it's me next. "버불검의 다연 입니다." She bows.

"�� 네, 안녕 에리들!" I wave at the camera. "백현이 왔어!" I say dramatically. The others laugh and Dayeon slightly giggles.

"아, now that we've all introduced ourselves, why don't we start right away." 준면 starts again.

"Over here, we have some questions that the fans asked and we are here to answer them and maybe even share some Christmas spirit." Bora says pointing to the little coffee table in front of us with a acrylic bin decorated with santa hat and christmas light stickers. Each paper was a different color and were folded to resemble a santa hat.

"Good one 언니." Suah says.

"종대야 아니, 첸씨, would you like to pick one of these hats?" He pushes the bin towards 종대, who was across from him. He choose the green paper.

"Who had the most Christmas Spirit during the album process? By the way, 사랑해 오빠들이 그리고 언니들!" 종대 reads.

"Ahh..." 경수 starts. "I think 다연씨 had the most Christmas Spirit." He stops there. I laugh.

"왜요? Please explain." I say.

"Oh, well, she always wanted to help and was super bright and cheery but is still super kind and not annoying." He says.

"오, 감사합니다 but I'm always like that. That's not just Christmas Spirit. It's Dayeon Spirit." She says.

"Just accept the compliment." Yoona says tiredly. "Let's move on, shall we? 카이씨, do you want to pick one?"

"Sure." He reaches over to grab a paper. He grabs a purple one. We continue with questions and start to play some games.

"Our first game is a test." Minseok 형 explains.

"Ahhhh, we're not in school! 시험을 받는거 싫어요!" I whine slightly flailing my arms and legs like a child.

"This will be a more fun test," Minseok 형 continues calmly, ignoring me, "In your 'couples', you will take a test to see how well you guys know each other. Whichever gets the highest score wins 3 points, 2nd place, 2 points, 3rd place, 1 point. 알겠어요 여러분?" We nod. One of the staff members passes 형 a stack of clipboards and he hands each of us a clipboard. "Guys, spread out, we don't want anyone to cheat, do we?" As we spread out, I look at the form, it was the typical questions, favorite color, animal, things like that. Aish... I never asked her those, I should've asked. After 15, everyone was about done with their quizzes and returned back to their seats.

"Ahhh, now that we have finished the tests, let us now look at the answers. With your partner, check your answers and let us know your scores." The camera starts going around, filming the couples as they compare their answers. Dayeon got almost all my answers right, turns out she did a background check on everyone in EXO and now has random facts in her head from the weird websites she looked at. Me, on the the other hand, only got half right. Better than none I guess. We got about 85% average. Lucky for us, that was pretty high. Sehun and Suah got 60%. Junmyeon and Bora got 50%. Chanyeol and Sunny got 45%. Jongin and Yoona got 25%.

"Great start for this live right? Good thing you did a background check on all of us. Did you think we were gangsters or something? Why did you do a background check?" I tease Dayeon. She blushes and hides her face with the clipboard.

"I like knowing stuff..."

"Congratulations on your 3 points, dream team." Chanyeol gives us a thumbs-up. We played charades next, which was hilarious by the way, and of course, the dancers won. Don't worry though, we got second. 5 points... we're still in the lead.

"Lastly, the game we all have been waiting for, the 빼빼로 게임! 여러분, 이 게임이 아시죠? Since we do, let's just start." Kyungsoo starts.

"Dream team, you want to go first, or last?" I look over to Dayeon.

"Let's get this over with, we'll go first." Ouch, that hurt.

"You want to get this over with? Am I that boring?" I tease. We were passed a 빼빼로 stick. I bit on one end, she did the other. "도전!" I say with the stick in my mouth. We bite until our lips are touching but not fully. I let go and let the stick fall into my hand.

"와... 되게 짧아..." Dayeon whispers.

"How are we supposed to beat THAT?!" Sehun says.

"I have no idea... just lose?" Suah says.

"Yeah, we already lost." They shake their heads. The others have a hard time getting close to our 1 cm stick. Junmyeon 형 and Bora just kissed, they ate the whole stick. Smh...

"I guess the winners are Baekhyunnie and Dayeonnie." Bora says, slightly dazed from the kiss.

"8 points, not bad... we're in first place right?" I ask.

"Yeah, you never told us what the prize was." Dayeon follows.

"Oh, 맞다. That was the last game and the prize, I don't know but it's this box soo... here you go." Jongdae says. He hands us a wrapped present from under the tree.

"열어." I hand the box to Dayeon. She rips it open, her eyes lighting up at what was in the box.

"오빠, 오빠!" she pats my shoulder in excitement. "한우이야! 이거 봐!" I look inside the box and a smile immediately appears on my face.

"Why didn't you tell us the prize earlier?! We would tried harder!" Junmyeon complains.

"So you didn't try your hardest?"

"No, we did, but we would've tried harder."

"아무튼, we got 한우 and you didn't, haha..." I taunt.

"Okay, since 다연 and 백현이 won, you guys will sing your duet song in our new album, "Christmas Spirit"!" They pass us a microphone as the melody starts to play. 다연 starts singing the verse solo and then I start harmonizing. As we finish the song, I hear the others clap.

Masterlist

#baekhyun #exo baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #byun baekhyun #byun baekhyun exo #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun imagines #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #exo imagine #exo imagines #exo fanfiction #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun x you #baekhyun x oc

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backroomsaesthetic · 4 years ago

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Blog changes - version 1.3

I took a month long break from this blog to relax a bit. We are now 7200+ cyberpunk loving people and it’s time for some new things.

1. Write something Wednesday

Each week a writer (maybe you) will get an image prompt and try to write a 100 word paragraph. That will be featured on this blog along side your name and any website. At the end of a year (starting now) people can vote on the best one and that one will win a prize money. Send me a text via tumblr if you want to join. Anyone who wants to will get a chance to join

2. Artist spotlight

Once a month for a week long I will be featuring a single artist. Probably in illustration but maybe some fashion, music and other things too. I will start with some bio and that week will be filled with that person. I will give my opinion and critique on their pieces. If there’s anyone you wish to see feel free to comment or text me

3. Breakdown

Just like the spotlight the regular posts will be a bit more in-depth and also branch out to include other areas of cyberpunk like fashion, technology and music. Also more forms of art like statues and crafts and cosplay. So get ready for that too

I hope these changes sound exciting if so let me knooooow. If you wish to add anything or have questions just ask. I will be here for you. Also all this dystopia stuff and gloom can be a bit much so if you just wanna chat and I also down for that.

That’s it. Thanks for reading and see you in the next post

#me #personal #blog #crisiover #writing #writing prompt #prompt #writing contest #contest #win #changes

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all1e23 · 6 years ago

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Astrophile [Pt.9]

Chapter: Stardust

Summary: Bucky & Y/n spend the day apart, but find themselves struggling to make it through the day.

Warnings: Flirting. Fluff. Sweet Tony. Sweet Bucky. Slightly sad Bucky but only for a second!

A/N: Bucko is a little sad at the start, but I don’t consider it angsty at all. Progress babies. Progress. 😉Send me love because I’m needy, okay?! Plus all your comments make my day. Beta’d by the beautiful and talented @lokissoul I love you 3000.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

“What’s been going on with you lately?”

Bucky rolls the glass bottle between his palms and shrugs in answer, glancing up at whatever game was on behind the bar to avoid Steve’s probing glare. They have been in this pub for over an hour now, and Bucky has no idea what game he’s been pretending to watch, and he hasn’t heard a word Steve has said. As much as he wants to throw himself wholeheartedly into tonight, he can’t. Bucky hasn’t seen Y/n in over a week, he had to take an extra shift, so he’s had less time with Comet and with everything going today, neither he nor Y/n have had a minute to talk to each other. The last message he got from her was a quick good morning text, but he had a feeling she only sent it because he sent her a message first.

Today is not Bucky’s day.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bucky answers, distracted and withdrawn.

“We haven’t talked in weeks. I don't even know what’s going with you. Clint knows more about you than I do. You’re always glued to your phone waiting for a certain bookstore owner to call, and if you’re not on the phone with Y/n, you’re talking about her.”

“Nothing to talk about there, Stevie,” He sighs and tips his empty beer towards the bartender, slightly asking for another round. “We are friends. She’s been dating Tony for about a month. I don’t know. Seems to be going good. I guess their first date was amazing, and all that sappy love at first sight shit.”

“Not what I heard,” Steve mumbles against the lip of the bottle in his hands. “I heard she hated the restaurant and talked about you the whole date.”

“It wasn’t the whole date, and I don’t think she hated it.”

Bucky shifts restlessly in his seat, forcing himself to not look at Steve, using the bartender returning with their beers as his excuse – Steve isn’t buying it.

“Did – did she say that she did?”

Steve snorts at the stutter in the brunette’s voice and the painfully transparent way he’s been dodging Steve’s glances from the moment Y/n was mentioned. He nods his thanks to the bartender and spins around on his stool to face his friend. “Buck, come on. I’ve never seen you like this. Tell me what’s going on with her?”

“There’s nothing to say, man.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs, drumming his fingers against the bottle in his hands. “What if – Don’t give me that pissed off face. Just hear me out. What if the reason Y/n jumps up when you call or smiles every time you’re around, or I don’t know, spends all day talking to you and about you is that maybe, just maybe there’s something there for her, too.”

“Steve–”

“Hear me out, Buck.” Steve cuts him off before Bucky has time to tell him to shut up. “You have to know she is different. You’ve been different since she came along.”

Bucky hangs his head in defeat or annoyance he’s not even sure, and if he tightens his grip in the slightest there are going to be shards of broken glass all over the place.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Bucky asks, forcing as much annoyance into his voice as he can – he needs to be done with this conversation.

“Anything else besides her?”

“Alright,” Steve spins back around towards the bar, his leg bouncing nervously, and suddenly he blurts out, “Sam, and I are going to adopt a little boy, I think.”

Bucky chokes on his beer, spilling damn near half the bottle on the bartop making Steve grin.

“What?!” Bucky Shrieks. “You can’t just drop that shit on me.”

Steve shrugs looking complacent and not sorry in the least.

“When the hell did this happen?” Bucky asks, wiping himself and the bartop off.

“Remember Zoey from the gym?”

Bucky rolls his eyes but nods anyway.

“Well, it’s kind of her fault. We ran into her, and she was out with her nephew, and I don’t know honestly. Sam was talking to him and playing and…” Steve smiles and shakes his head.

“We are finally ready, I think.”

“That’s awesome, Stevie.” Bucky pats Steve on his back, drying his beer-soaked hand on his shirt. “You’re gonna be amazing parents. Ori might get a little jealous when she realizes she has to share her uncles, but I think it’s about damn time, to be honest.”

“She doesn’t have to share. I can make time for both of them. Babies sleep a lot, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “You don’t remember much from when Ori was a baby, do ya?”

“You’re a jerk,” Steve murmurs.

“Uh-huh. You gonna tell me why you didn’t tell me sooner, punk?”

“We started the process a few months ago, but I didn’t want to say anything until we were sure it was happening.”

“You’re sure now?” Bucky asks, not judging, purely out of curiosity.

“Yeah, I know we are,” Steve assured him, firm and sincere. “And, this isn’t because we are missing anything because we absolutely are not missing anything. Sam is all I could ever need, but – I don’t know to explain it. It was like once we met him everything kind of clicked, and it made everything brighter, more meaningful. Now that we know him-- Now that we know Oliver, I don’t think we could go back to a time without him.”

Bucky stares at the amber glass in his hand swallowing the knot in his throat, Steve nudges his elbow grinning widely, and Bucky forces the best smile he can muster.

“You know what I mean?” Steve asks, hope and excitement filling his voice. Bucky wants to be excited for them, and he is, but his mind is somewhere else tonight – somewhere wrapped in story pages and stardust.

“Yeah,” He sighs, “I know what you mean, man.”

-------

Today has been a complete nightmare.

Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s just been a stressful, long day and the nightmare started last night. It began with her neighbors flooding her bedroom the night before and being forced to stay in Manhattan with Tony. She would have asked Natasha or… someone else who lived closer but Tony was dropping her off when they discovered the mess that was her apartment.

Thankfully Tony was there to save the day.

The incident, however, meant the bookstore was closed for the day while they cleaned up her apartment and Y/n had to plan Ori’s party from Tony’s penthouse, which wasn’t winning any prizes for the coziest spot. It’s not that Tony didn’t have a beautiful place, he did. He was in the middle of Manhattan with the perfect view in every direction. High windows, marble floors and beautiful artwork on the walls. There were some questionable paintings hanging that she wanted to question but didn’t. He had a preposterously fancy couch, and the view off the balcony was breathtaking first thing in the morning. Sure, the view is nice, a chef is on-site, and Tony is always sweet, but it feels wrong.

The couch, with as much money as Tony spent on the thing, it should actually be comfortable! It’s hard, the back has awkward cushions and they doesn’t squish down like Bucky’s does. The arms are skinny and unyielding - there is no way she could curl up on that thing and watch a movie. The entire place is so clean she felt bad laying all party planning books and idea boards out on the table this morning. Tony had insisted it was fine, but it still felt strange to muck up his astonishingly tidy living room.

Tony left her be for most of the day, he had work to do, and she was busy planning a starry birthday bash. He had stopped in to check on her throughout and asked more than once, why don’t you just use that Pinterest website everyone uses? Or at least make all those lists on your phone?

She always replied the same, I prefer handwritten notes, Tony. Then I can doodle in the corners.

Out of everything? The thing she hates most about today? Bucky hasn’t sent her a text all day, except for the quick good morning he sent her which she is almost certain was Ori’s doing. Bucky wouldn’t think to send her a message like that first thing in the morning. It had bothered her quite a bit, and she wasn’t the only one who noticed her sour mood. Tony watches Y/n chewing on the end of her pen from his seat across his living room. She’s been staring at her notepad for nearly an hour now, occasionally glancing over at her phone (that hasn’t gone off since this morning).

Something is cooking in that pretty head of hers, and he is going to figure out what. He drops his iPad to the table and strolls over to the couch. Her focus is solely on what’s laying on her lap, he runs his hand up her bare leg stopping mid-thigh right below her shorts and sits down on the coffee table in front of her – she doesn’t seem to notice he is even there. She’s lost in star-shaped Rice Krispies Treats, recipes for the perfect moon rocks and what appears to be every space themed decoration she can think of.

“You’re doing all this for Bucky’s kid?” Tony inquires, giving a gentle but firm squeeze to her thigh. The mix of his voice and the tickle to her inner thigh seems to grab her attention, but there is still a little something indifferent in her eyes.

“Yes, I’m doing all of this for Ori and for Bucky. Bucky and I are friends,” Y/n explained, credulously and matter-of-factly.

Tony can’t help but smile at her. He leans forward and kisses her forehead, whispering against her skin, "You’re adorably naive sometimes.”

The edges of her mouth curl down into a deep frown, and her brows draw together. “What does that mean?”

“Listen,” Tony begged, ignoring her question. They can talk about that after Ori’s party. “I’ve got an idea for baby Barnes’s birthday if you’re okay letting me help?”

“Depends on what it is?”

“You said her favorite place is your bookstore, right?”

“Yeah, I mean that’s what she said, but I can’t have the party there. I would have to move all the shelves, my apartment is still a mess, and I have no room to cook anything there. I think Bucky just wants to cook burgers or something and,” She hesitates, nervously drumming the end of her pen against her knee until Tony snatches it out of her hand.

“And… what? You’re killing me with the suspense.”

“I’m not family,” she whispers, so soft that Tony has to strain to hear it. “I think they were going to do it at Steve’s because they have the deck out back and well, he’s her uncle. I’m just some girl that owns a bookstore.”

This is something Tony can’t let go. Tony grabs the notepad from her hands, tossing it and the pen onto the couch and pulls Y/n forward by her hands.

“Your apartment will be fine. I’ll make sure it gets done, and the shelves are not a big deal. Her dad and uncles have muscles coming out of their ass–” They both wince at his choice of words. “– Sorry. That was vivid even for me. Point is we can move them, and I can pay for a caterer. Don’t even try to fight me on that one. It can be my present, and as for the rest, you are far more than just a girl that owns a bookstore to that little girl and particularly to Bucky.”

A wide grin slowly stretches across Y/n’s face, and Tony does not like the smugness of that smirk.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t like one bit.

“You’re pretty sweet when you want to be,” She says, still beaming.

Tony reaches forward and covers her mouth with his hand whispering dramatically as he does, “Shh, don’t say that so loud. There are spies everywhere!”

A muffled giggle slips through his fingers, and she places a soft kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Thank you,” She manages once he drops his hand.

“I like the idea as long as Bucky is okay with it.” Her eyes wander back to her phone on the table next to Tony’s thigh, and it doesn’t have to be said – he can see it written all over her face.

“You wanna call him right now, don’t you?”

She gives Tony an apologetic smile with a small shrug. It’s supposed to be their date night, but she is not going to relax till she talks to Bucky and gets this party sorted – they both know it. Tony rolls his eyes affectionately and waves his hand towards the balcony as he stands.

“I have to change before we go out anyway. Go, make your call.”

Y/n slips out onto the terrace as Tony disappears into his bedroom. There is a moment of hesitation before she makes herself to dial Bucky’s number. They hadn’t talked all day, Y/n thought it was because he was busy, but maybe he didn’t want to talk? They aren’t family, they are brarey friends and she could be bothering him--

“Hey, Beck,” Bucky’s soft greeting makes her skin prickle and her worry fades away when instantly.

“Hi,” Y/n sighs, content and somehow lighter from two simple words.

“Hi,” Bucky breathes into the phone with a huge grin on his face, his nerves finally settling for the first time all day. He’s not sure how she does that when they are a good twenty miles apart.

“So,” she mutters quietly.

“So,” Bucky repeats with a soft chuckle.

Y/n knows why she called. They need to talk about Ori’s party but now that she has him on the line, for the first time in what feels like forever she doesn’t want to rush him off the phone. She admires the soft orange glow and the pink clouds peeking out over the Manhattan skyline, and she’s never wanted to be back in Brooklyn more than she does right now.

“I’m not sure what all the fuss is about the sunset from Manhattan,” She scoffs. “Personally, I like a good old Brooklyn sunset.”

Dammit. Why does she have to be so perfect? Bucky thinks as he sneaks through Steve’s living room and out the front door– no witnesses needed for this conversation. He spins around to find the sunset peeking through all the buildings. It’s harder to do the deeper you got into Brooklyn, but he was able to spot the peach colored sky. He can’t explain why, he just needs to know they are both looking at the same thing.

“You called me to talk about sunsets, Beck?”

Y/n chuckles and shakes her head as if he can see her but quickly remembers he can’t and answers him with a nervous squeak, “Um, no? I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Bucky echoes her words once again.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you are about to have dinner with Ori. I just…” I haven’t talked to you all day, and I hate it. She closes her eyes and turns around the block out the nightfall that’s overtaking the orange and slowly fading to plum. “I actually called about Ori’s party. If it’s okay with you, I would like to have it at my shop. I can handle everything. If you just bring the birthday girl.”

“That sounds good,” Bucky whispers, clearing his throat as he turns back around and drops his forehead against the front door – shutting out the dark falling around him, the one that seems to take over when she’s not with him.

“Ori would really love that. Tell me what to buy or set up. I can come early and help move things around.”

“Why are you whispering?” She asks in a hushed tone making him chuckle. “I’m hiding on the front porch at Steve’s. Why are you whispering?” He counters, grinning, foolish, and unabashed.

Y/n giggle softly, and the line goes inexplicably quiet. Bucky slowly lifts his head from the door and turns back around to find the sun was mostly set, he was about to apologize for teasing her when her soft voice drifts through the line, “Let’s not go all day without talking again, okay? I really hated it.”

Sweetest words he’s heard all day.

“God, me too,” He sighs. “Never again. I pinky promise.”

“Buck, you can’t pinky promise. We can’t lock pinkies,” She scolds with total seriousness because that’s just the kind of woman she is. “I’m in Manhattan, and you’re in Brooklyn. It only counts if you hook your pinkies together.”

“Who says we gotta lock, pinkies?” Bucky scoffs, amusement and sincerity filling his words. He may find her entirely adorable, but Bucky needs her to know he means every word – without a doubt.

“Maybe that will be our thing. Pinky promise without the pinky.”

Y/n finds herself unable to stop the ear to ear grin that forms. She drops her head back and looks up to the sky in hopes of catching a glimpse of the stars.

“No more days like today, Y/n. Pinky promise.”

There’s her glimpse. Perfect timing.

“Pinky promise, Buck.”

Previous // Next

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #single dad bucky #fireman!bucky #daddy!bucky #firefighter au #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #alternate universe

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projektnomad · 2 years ago

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2035

It started with you coughing up some blood now and then. Not even a lot, just some bloody phlegm on occasion, then more and more as time went on. You’d made the mistake of mentioning it on WhatsApp to a friend. You didn’t know at the time but you’d triggered keywords in an AI algorithm which had been given access to your WhatsApp chats via a quiz you’d taken on Facebook 5 years ago. The AI determined you had a high likelihood of cancer and, knowing your income and general wealth of your family and social circles, had determined that it would be fatal.

The data was added to your online marketing profile and within days your insurance company was aware of your situation. Before you’d even had a formal diagnosis your insurance premium was completely unaffordable and you’d had to drop out of your coverage plan.

Months passed without a proper diagnosis. You could just about afford one with the money you’d saved by selling your car and walking to work but couldn’t afford the day off it would take to get to the hospital, so had to keep showing up to work. Eventually you collapse on the job and are taken to hospital unconscious and against your will. With no coverage you wake up in a hospital bed with a huge debt for the ambulance ride and preliminary treatment. The staff discharge you but recommended you see a physician immediately.

You receive a text from work, you’ve been fired for gross misconduct: leaving the premises without permission. You owe them 4 weeks wages back as compensation. You can’t afford to challenge the decision. With your debt now mounting seemingly by the minute you consider heading back inside and taking advantage of the hospital’s ‘End of Life Special’; offering your organs up to pay for their euthanasia service. As you download the MyPassing app you receive an email from a reality TV company.

-Congratulations! You’ve been selected to apply for Fox’s new series, ‘Chemo Island’ where you’ll be pitted against 99 other contestants to claim the grand prize, FULL cancer treatment and a clearing of ALL medical debts. In the application stage you’ll receive a free diagnosis and (if selected) during filming you’ll receive life extending drugs. The filming is expected to last 4-6 weeks (depending on your prognosis). Contestants must be physically fit enough to complete athletic and dexterity challenges. Click here for more information.-

You ponder it for a moment, standing in the cold outside the hospital, the plastic gown they charged you an extortionate amount for billowing in the wind, exposing your genitals to a passing police drone, which immediately issues you a charge for public indecency and a fine you can’t afford. Could you do it? Every contestant you‘d be pitted against would be fighting for their life, same as you. Winning would mean consigning 99 other people to their fate, losing would inevitably mean death. But, free diagnosis...

You click on the email and visit the site. They’re no longer accepting applications for Chemo Island, the website having been overrun within the first few hours. But there is another one, specifically for contestants with a criminal record, something you achieved only moments ago. A new game show where over the course of a night you’ll be forced to fight against a series of increasingly violent former wrestlers, sports stars and b-list Hollywood actors for a cash prize that would not only clear your debts, but maybe even have enough left over to pay for treatment.

You click to fill out the form and feel a little bit of hope. How bad could a game show called The Running Man even be?

#running man #dystopia #neoliberalism

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iresecho · 4 years ago

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FRACTURED

hey! here’s a draft of a story i wrote recently. feel free to give it a read (it’s only a mere 1500 words) and let me know what you think!

oh, and about that word count? this short was for my class, so please bear with it. i understand it is very minimal for the amount of substance it contains. i hope you enjoy it regardless though! i’ll upload a finished version once i’ve completed it. any and all suggestions/critiques are welcome! pls be nice :)

Genre: Creative Fiction

Word Count: 1520

!TW: MULTIPLE DEATHS, BLOOD!

I sigh as I tap my pencil repeatedly on the table, the rubber nub of what’s left of the eraser pinging the oak beneath it. What’s it missing? There’s gotta be something missing I ponder to myself. I’ve been working on this poem for ages, but I still feel like it isn’t ready for this contest. I switch back to the website and read the headline ‘Do you want to become a new up and coming writer? Enter this contest to win!’ It’s the New York Times contest for a new up-coming author, and the grand prize would be enough to pay off my entire debt, and then some. I’ve had this poem written for awhile now, yet I still don’t think that it’s ready. I’ve read it over a million times, and I can’t seem to find what it’s missing. My mother was never too fond of my writing, but my father always loved it. He loved everything I did. My father’s always been proud of what I’ve done, and what I do. He’s never once shamed me for choosing what I believe in, and what I’m passionate about. I glance down at the gold-crested penguin pendant around my neck, lifting my hand up to grasp the cool metal. I smile as the memory it holds replays through my head. It was a gift from my father for my tenth birthday. He bought our family tickets to Disney World to celebrate, and purchased this necklace for me after I had mentioned several times in the gift shop how much I wanted it. Ever since it’s been my favourite animal. I hold it in my palm tightly, fingers grazing over the smooth, yet rigid surface of the pendant as I reach for my cell phone beside my open laptop. I begin to scroll through the messages between me and my father, a fond smile appearing on my lips as I read through the texts:

YESTERDAY

Dad: Hey, honey! How’s the poem coming along for the contest?

Me: it’s okay… I still feel like there’s something that it needs. I just can’t figure it out

Dad: When is the deadline to submit?

Me: tonight at 6

Dad: I’m sure you will figure it out sweetheart. You’re a great writer. Love you kiddo Xoxo.

Me: thanks dad, love you too

I smile again as I set down my phone, peering back to the computer screen before me. What seems like minutes go by and I get lost in the words in front of me. I jump as my phone begins to vibrate loudly on the table. I can’t help but shut my eyes for a second to brace myself:

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hello, what are you doing right now?”

It’s my mother. Great. She’s probably at work.

“Working on my poem for the contest, why?”

“....” There’s silence on the other end of the line. I wait a few moments, then,

“Mom?”

“...Huh? Oh, sorry. What did you say?”

“Forget it.”

“....” More silence. She does this every time. Doesn’t it bother you?

“Are you still at the hospital?”

“....” I’ve had it.

“MOM!!” I yell.

“What? Oh sorry honey, what were you saying?”

“Why do you do this to me every time? You never listen to me! You’re always on a call or too busy for me anyway!”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just hard for me when I’m at work sometimes honey but I promise I want to hear it.”

This is always her excuse. It’s always just too ‘hard’ for her to actually have a conversation with her only daughter. It’s always about work for her.

“You know what. Forget it. Call me when you have time for your daughter.” I hang up the phone.

Ugh she makes me so mad! Why does she never listen to me? First it was denying my talent for writing and trying to force me to go down some boring nine-to-five career hole I’d never get out of, now this?

I peer around my dingy, one bedroom apartment. Maybe she’s right. You’ve been living off chickpeas out of a can and barely surviving. I mean, look at you? You have barely any food in your fridge, and your ‘apartment’ is broken down and disgusting! What did you think your BA in English would get you anyway? You’ve been searching for a job in your field for a while, and still no opportunity has come up. Maybe your mother was right. Maybe you should have studied law. Maybe she would have listened to you then. Maybe you should have listened to her—

Me: hey dad, can I talk to you?

Dad: Sure honey, is something wrong?

Me: it’s mom, she’s always too busy to listen to what I have to say. it’s like talking to a brick wall

Dad: I’m sorry honey, but your mom is pretty busy at work. Maybe on her break?

Me: i’ve tried. she even calls me and then doesn’t listen! I feel like she hates me...

Dad: No she doesn't sweetheart, she loves you. And so do I. Xoxo.

Me: I love you too, dad where are you now? dad? helloooooo?

Ugh, now my own father is too busy for me too? I guess no one has time for me. Or maybe, I’m just not enough for them. Maybe I’m just some big disappointment, maybe—just take a nap, you’re probably stressed from being tired.

I’m abruptly awoken out of my slumber when my phone goes off loudly. I scramble to find it on my bedside table, slamming my hand down repeatedly to try and locate the device. I manage to pinpoint the phone, and hold it up before me. I squint at the screen, scowling at the newfound brightness and see the word “MOM” in bright bold text. I press accept and hold the phone up to my ear:

“Hello?”

I can hear her sobbing on the other end of the line. I sit up straight in bed, eyes wide with worry as I stare at the dark matter in front of me.

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

“Honey, your dad’s been in an accident.”

“What? What do you mean?”

I start to shake, eyes brimming with panic, heart banging against my chest as I wait for her response after an ill-conceived sob:

“He was driving on the highway, and um—I found his phone and he was texting you while driving and he swerved into the other lane and he—”

“What, he what?!”

“He’s dead.”

I drop the phone to my side as my life starts caving from the exterior in. I lose my breath as the realization sets in. How did you let this happen? How could you?

“No.”

A single tear streams from my face.

“NO!”

I sob as I wail into the darkness of my room, hands covering my flooding sockets as I scream. A steady river forms blurring my vision for what seems like eternity. I stay like this for a while. You did this. You killed him.

“I’m so sorry”.

I pace back and forth, raking fingers through my hair, tears streaming down my face as I try and accept the truth. How could I have let this happen? I’m the reason he’s gone, if I just would’ve called him instead, maybe things would have been different. I press my spine against the cool tile of the bathroom wall as I stare at my dishevelled reflection. You’re disgusting. I slam my fist against the mirror, shattering the glass littering shards throughout the room. My eyes begin to pour, as does my bleeding hand from the impact. I look below me at my feet, peering at my skewed reflection through the broken, bloody pieces. I’m sorry dad, this is all my fault. I’m so sorry.

“Thank you all for coming”.

I watch my mother from the church pew seven rows back, wiping her tears as she stabilizes herself on the podium. The room is dimly lit, filled with a few dozen family members I haven’t seen since infanthood. The white, flowered casket sits perpendicular to my mother on the stage behind her.

“She was always so driven” I hear her say. “She was stubborn,” she laughs, “but we all loved her the same.”

She takes a few new tissues from the funeral-gifted box, looking at my graduation picture surrounded with white roses, taking a breath before starting again with a shaky voice:

“It hasn’t been easy, with my husband passing and now my daughter. But um, I’d like us to celebrate her death. She was a brilliant writer, and it certainly showed when she won the contest for the New York Times Best Up-and-Coming Writer. I’m really proud of her, we all are.”

My eyes well up with tears as her words hit my chest like bombs. She’s proud of me? She thinks I’m a good writer? I smile to myself,

“I finally did it, dad. I made it.”

“I know sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.” He smiles as he wraps his arm around my shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go home.”

Winter eventually fades

Revealing the unknown golden flowers

Blooming just below

#fractured #short story #short fiction #creative fiction #creative story #novel #graphicnovel #literature #english #story #original story

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clickpimple1 · 4 years ago

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myemilycoates · 4 years ago

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Brainstorming ideas

I needed to start focussing on a problem to solve within cities, so I decided to have another big brainstorm. I considered how there is no where really in parks to congregate other than benches currently for a few people. So I could create the domes from my original city for working and gatherings, maybe make an app with activities for children to do around the park whilst the adults are working. I also thought about how buses don’t come quickly and frequently enough in some cities.

One of my favourite ideas was to create a walking/running scheme where if you run certain distances you get points, and if you ran to essential shops they would have rewards waiting there for you. This would promote a healthy lifestyle and getting places quicker, however I came to the conclusion that running is not everyones cup of tea and you probably wouldn’t want to go into shops all sweaty.

FAVOURITE IDEA:

My favourite idea was to create a cycling scheme around the city using the idea of a ‘pedal pub’ as everyone has to cycle and would have one driver to steer, the benefits being that it:

- would remove the use of cars

- get around the city in 15 minutes

- promote a healthy lifestyle

- provide jobs

- eco friendly

- clear up streets and conjestion on roads

It would stop around different key points in the neighbourhood, such as streets, parks, social domes etc. and lead to the city centre.

App?

- You would get points on an app the more key destinations you go to

- Would show you how far away the bikes are

- Nearest stop to you using your phones GPS

- Compete with friends/ have races

Physical system?

- Have maps showing where the stops are

- Create reward cards for the driver to stamp off, when filled up a card would get a new one with a different set of rewards. Would have a code linking to the website to claim prize.

- Design the signs for at each destination

A physical system like this would be more accessible for all age ranges, such as elderly and children

In both would win vouchers to spend at local business/ experiences in the city, such as food, retail, sessions at the local gym. The idea of this is that it would be supporting the local community.

I would have to redesign this idea to be more accessible for shoppers, such as having storage at the back of it, or perhaps the elderly/ disabled.

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tellhappystar · 4 years ago

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Home

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forhonorvoice-blog · 5 years ago

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