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jujutsukgojo · 4 months ago

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Lack of obedience

Summary: Unfortunately, Zenin completely slipped your mind. He was never on it to begin with. How were you supposed to know that your interaction meant something? Or that he would remember you, someone who he met once several years ago?

an: this is inspired by Stalking Laura (1993) which is a movie based on a true story. So, there are notable similarities that this has with the movie. tw: gun violence, stalking, assault, sexual harassment, criticizing makeup and weight (implied?), misogyny

All it took was one meeting. One look for you to immediately come to the conclusion that Naoya Zenin is repulsive. He’s nothing but an insecure joke. For someone who claims he’s strong, he sure as hell is worried about it. Hiding behind a macho facade that is practically leaking out a fragile and overinflated ego; shoving his ideals about women and not giving a damn about humanity or humility.

It began when your parents went over to the Zenin household when you were about ten or so years old. Even at that young of an age you marveled at the Zenin’s house. Truly, it’s a beauty. Elegant and traditional without it being outdated. As you were admiring the house and walking in the garden, a boy with blond hair with dark ends appeared behind an elephant statue.

You ignored him and walked past him. He didn’t like that at all. Immediately, he yanked you backwards and pushed you against the statue. “Women should walk three steps behind a man.”

You gasped at his sudden action and opinion. Feeling petty, you look around. "Where's a man?" He looked aghast, shocked by your quip. What did he expect? He just pushed you into a statue and believes that women should walk behind him. Did he think you’d take that easily?

His lip curls and eyes fill with rage. His face changed to red. “You bi-”

You quickly cut him off before he can finish. “If you’re talking about yourself, then I’ll remind you that you weren’t even walking.”

Just like that, he stopped. What you thought would be this random boy going off on you ended up with him giving a scowl. You took the opportunity to run away. He called out for you only to find silence.

Throughout the visit, the boy stared at you intently. Following his eyes, his father, Naobito, introduced him as Naoya. Even when his father spotted Naoya's attention on you, Naoya still insisted on studying your every move, making you too nervous to enjoy your meal. Your mother noticed how tense you became, and in a whisper, she asked, "Are you okay?"

Everyone turned to look at you. Despite wanting to out his staring, you shake your head yes. It's not that looking at someone is cause to get him in trouble, it's the way he's doing it. Like he wants to hurt you.

So busy looking at your hands, you don't notice that the adult to your left had switched seats at the boy's request. The adult cooed and awed, complying to his request. It isn't until a plate of cake is put in front of you that you notice the change. "You're going to eat this with me."

His father laughs at it and...cheers? The newly greying man slurs his question, reeking of alcohol. "Growing up to be a man so soon?"

The adults laugh with him, praising how well he's developing into "someone to take charge" and is a shining hope for a family. In the corner of your eye, you see him smirk with a twinkle of pride in his amber eyes.

It all goes over your head but doesn't sit right with you. You look at the plate in front of you. Although you love a good dessert, you don't touch it. The evening continued on without you picking up on his growing curiosity, rage, and infatuation.

Of course, you parents talked about the prospect of the two of you together. Apparently, they noticed him eyeing you from across the table and how "smitten" he was. You simply answered, ‘no’.

That was the last time you talked to or about him or any of the Zenins. As the years went on, your parents worried about your future and marriage. You brushed them off time and time again, much to their irritation. It got to the point where they were even threatening to cut off your college fund for it. Needless to say, you left. No one gets to decide shit for you.

With the help of some friends and a caring teacher that you remained close to, you were able to have a temporary shelter until you could get on your feet. It took months of saving and odd jobs but in the end, you were able to get assistance for college.

It was all liberating. Working hard and thinking for yourself. Being free without being proper or worrying about a stain or two. The blood, sweat, and tears were all worth it. Years later, you graduated at the top, opening hundreds of windows of opportunities.

Unfortunately, Zenin completely slipped your mind. He was never on it to begin with. How were you supposed to know that your interaction meant something? Or that he would remember you, someone who he met once several years ago?

You woke up in a good mood, having dreamt of memories, strangely. You remember how excited and nervous you were when you got hired at your job. Leo, your boss, is a boisterous and kind man who's larger than life. Despite this, he is stern in his rules and direction. It makes you chuckle on how your first day went exactly one year ago. After only a few minutes after meeting you, he decided to 'manifest’ that you'd get a higher position. Now, a higher position is open, and you are one of the people who are thought to be considered for it. Of course, you aren't banking on it. You've only been there for a short time and there are plenty of people who have more experience and do an overall better job than you.

It's nice to be thought of for the job even if you aren't really up for it. Not officially, at least. However, you have worked hard for a better position.

It's only been a year when you got hired and met all of your friends. At work, you clicked with Yuki, a woman with a gorgeous smile and has goddess braids that she herself put in (she made sure you knew that). When you first met her on your first day at work, she took an immediate liking to you. She talked animatedly about her dress for her sister’s wedding. As it turns out, Yuki does not like pink taffeta.

“It’s like she’s trying to make me ugly! Look at this. This is what I’m supposed to wear.” Her slim fingers scroll through her phone for you to see a bubblegum pink taffeta dress with one sleeve on the shoulder and lavender lace on the waist. The dress is form fitting until the bottom fluffs out in magenta tulle.

“Oh my God.” Lord, help her this is ugly. “Exactly! I’m not wearing that, screw it.” You pop a french fry in your mouth. “So, what're you going to do?”

Yuki stops for a second then puts a wicked smirk on her glossy lips. Her mocha skin glows in the sun from the window behind her. Her eyes gleam mischievously. “Wear a wedding dress.”

You nearly choke on your food. “Yuki!”

“She’s doing this on purpose. Look at the other bridesmaids.” She shows you four silk, Grecian like, gowns with subtle and elegant designs. “See? And I get stuck with that.”

You chew on your burger. “Could it be a joke?”

“No. Not unless my mom’s in on it which wouldn’t surprise me. She’s always been like that with us.” Yuki sips on her pop.

“This may be bad advice but go for it. Be the belle of the ball.” She laughs. “Yes, yes, yes! I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Now that you think about it, yesterday was her sister's wedding if you remember right. You wonder if she went through with it.

You stretch and get ready for work, looking forward to the possible talk you'll have with Leo about the promotion. Not only will you be accomplishing a goal, but you'd also get higher pay which would make Em, your roommate, happy.

"Morning, Em." She gives a light wave, clearly not fully awake yet. Confused, you look at the clock. "Shouldn't you be at work? It's seven."

"Hired a morning worker, remember? So, I shouldn't be working at four in the morning everyday thank God."

"Amen." You say and start making coffee. Although she is the owner of an excellent cafe, you usually make the coffee in the morning. It's your way of giving her a break from it even if only for a moment. You start to lightly chuckle as you notice the green jar.

"Don't you even think about it. I'm serious!" Em warns. You shake it a little. "You don't want decaf?"

She puts her hands on her hips. "It's seven in the morning. I need the hard stuff." You put the decaf down and grab the regular. "I wanted the hard stuff, too, remember?"

Em looks at you questioningly. "When I applied for the apartment? You served me decaf."

"Ha! That's the same jar too."

The house was of a decent size and clean. The outside didn’t look like much but the inside was decorated nicely if not a little quirky. In front of the entrance is a rug that looks like the carpet in The Shining. A clock on the wall in the shape of an apple, throw pillows of different designs and some look homemade. The paint on the walls is different in each room. Could she not decide on which color?

“Alright, where are you from?” The woman who is about your age with long hair asks. Her eyes are warm, and she has a few freckles. They’re cute, you note.

“I wasn’t born here, if that’s what you mean. I was raised in Kyoto though.”

She nodded, taking in the information and understanding your wording. You don’t want to talk about that. Lucky for you, she’s easy going and aware. “Okay, I get it. I don’t like thinking of that shit either.”

You look around the kitchen, secretly looking at the corners and the trim, wondering if you’ll see anything. So far, there isn’t a big hitch. “What’s the catch?”

She hums and looks up at you. “It’s a little too good to be true. I mean, sharing a house for this price?”

She scratches her face. “No catch. My old job helped me keep up the place, then I got fired and was able to finally get my cafe together.” She takes a breath. “I make enough now to not rely on my savings so much but not enough to pay for and take care of a house.”

You nod. “I get it. Y’know, getting started late.” You truly understand. After high school, it took you a hot minute to get to college and get hired for jobs.

“Exactly. Everything is overwhelming so I decided to risk my life and take my chance on a potential serial killer. Anything to save a buck.”

“If it helps, I’m not one. I’m quite normal,” You shrug. “Terribly, boringly, normal.”

She pats the counter in an upbeat rhythm. “How unfortunate. Coffee?”

She holds a pot. “Sure. Thank you.” As she finishes pouring you a mug, she looks up at you. “It’s decaf by the way.”

You stop mid sip. “Why would you do that?” You make her laugh to herself.

“By your reaction, I already like you. You’re quiet but a go-getter. Don’t sell yourself short.” You don’t touch your decaf again.

Em scratches her head. "That shit's got to be expired, toss it." She stops scratching and studies you. "What made you so nostalgic this morning?" That's a good question, honestly. "There's something in the air, I guess."

"Well don't bring that shit over here. It's way too early to think about my past, hell. I need something a little stronger than coffee if that's what we're doing." You roll your eyes at her. "No, Em, that's not what's happening."

You pour her a cup and place the cream and sugar before her. "It's possible that I get that promotion, y'know? I'm not fully qualified but it's possible. I'll be making more money..."

"That reminds me, your half of the rent is due."

"Em! I'm serious." She nods. "I understand what you're saying," Em looks at the clock. "Can we table this? We both have to get ready."

As you exit your car and walk into the building, you notice a familiar looking vehicle. For the life of you, you can’t place it. So, you ignore it and continue on. “Good morning, Rue.”

You wave at the receptionist who has the phone against her ear. She gives you a quick wave before exasperatingly answers whatever was asked over the phone.

“Ah, (L/n). This is the new hire, Naoya Zenin.” The name sounded so familiar to you. His hair is distinct, and eyes are very catlike. You can’t pin it, but you know him from somewhere. The little tick in your mind is pushed back. If you can’t recognize him then it doesn’t matter.

The man pats Leo on his back. “Transfer. Nice to meet you.” He shakes your hand with a firm grip. “So, I was about to give him the tour, want to join?”

“Leo, I already know my way around.” Your boss looks at you incredulously. “I distinctly remember you having to ask for directions to the bathroom.”

“Fine.” You scoff, a little embarrassed that he knew that. Leo leads the tour. Naoya asks questions about the departments and officials. Leo answers with ease then adds, “Then again, you aren't in this department."

"You misunderstand, I am not in a department. I am the future CEO." Your eyebrows raise. Leo copies your expression sticks and his hand out. "Oh, well, nice to meet you!"

"Did you not know this, Leo?" You whisper to him. "No, one of the higher ups asked me to. I didn't think anything of it."

The transfer pays no mind to you. You didn’t get the vibe that it was intentional though. You break off and head to your cubicle. From the corner of your eye, he studies you as he and Leo walk away, with Leo explaining the company in his usual light tone.

“I did it!” Yuki runs up to your cubicle. “What?”

She pulls out her phone to show her selfie she did in a stark white wedding dress in a bathroom. The dress was studded and had a mermaid silhouette and a sweetheart neckline. In usual Yuki fashion, her makeup was elegant and had a dramatic lip stain to her full lips.

“I can’t believe you went through with it…” She slides through the photos. She had the gall to take a picture of her throwing peace signs as her sister cries in the background.

“Hey, you told me to!”

“Oh come on. You were planning this before I…well, encouraged it.”

“Uh-huh! See!” You roll your eyes at her flamboyant demeanor. “Anyway, I didn’t stay long or was dramatic about it or anything.”

You side eye her and raise a brow. “Really?”

“I wasn’t! I felt too much like a lady. Look at me with my opera gloves.” She points to one of her pictures in her gown.

“Since you weren’t dramatic, do you think your family will take that into consideration?”

“Nope. My mother sided with her through it all and my dad then walked me out.” Yuki and her father are close. So, to have him escort her out must’ve hurt a little. “He said I looked pretty then he shut my car door.”

“Are you okay?” You whisper, noticing that her gaze went a little far. She blinks multiple times and lightly slaps her cheeks. “Yep! Oh, here’s Junie the other day!”

You respect her wishes to drop the subject and go on to coo at the image of her daughter, who shares her name. Rather than calling her Yuki as well, it was decided to just nickname her Junior.

---------

At lunch, you, Yuki, and a few others decided to go to a small mom and pop pizzeria. It’s small and dingy but by the Lord in heaven, they make excellent pizza. Per usual, you argue about the toppings. No one can make up their mind or compromise. You groan at the thought of ground beef being on your pizza with no cheese.

“Rue, I swear to God-”

“What? I’m lactose intolerant!”

The chair next to yours scrapes, causing you to look up at the transfer, Zenin. “We’re getting separate pizzas. It’s the easiest way, don’t you agree.”

His tone and words rub you the wrong way. Getting separate personal pizzas is an easy route, but how he worded it sounds wrong. Like he’s telling you. Rue raises her brows in a welcomed shock. She elbows Yuki, who is still looking at the menu for her toppings. Your friends might see this as a turn on, but it’s off putting.

Leo joins the group and explains that he and Zenin were at lunch when they were told that you and your friends went to the pizzeria. The waitress looks at you. “Crap…” You look over the menu, having forgotten what you wanted. Unexpectedly, Zenin pipes up once again and orders for you.

“We’ll share. It’s on me.” Zenin tells you. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. Seriously.”

“Hear that? It’s on Zenin!”

“Should’ve got extra toppings…” Rue whines.

Thirty minutes after random conversation, the pizza is out. Zenin puts a slim slice on your plate.

You’re in mid bite when he talks to you. “It's a fitting size for you." What the hell?

"Meaning?" You talk to him lowly, not drawing attention from the rest of the table. He shrugs and answers, "Meaning, it's the right size."

That didn't clear up shit.

-------

Since Em has decided to hire new staff and use some of her extra time with music classes, you hang out at her cafe alone. As you sip on your drink and read a book, someone takes a seat in front of you. You perk up and look up at the person. You end up meeting Zenin's cat like eyes. You are still unhappy and uncomfortable with how he acted at lunch a few days ago.

"What're you reading?"

"A book." You cross your legs. He sighs like he's dealing with a child rather than an adult who just wants to be left alone. "Did you not like the pizza?"

"Barely remember it since it was basically bite sized." He scratches his ear. "I only did that because Rue said you were insecure and watching your portions. I was just trying to support you."

That never occurred to you. It's not like you hate yourself or think low. You're just trying to watch it. "I'd appreciate it more if you didn't do that."

He freezes for a second. "Me doing and saying that must've come out wrong. Let me buy your coffee." You shake your head no, denying his request. "It's fine. I already paid."

“No, no. I’ll get your money back and pay for you. My treat.”

You stare at him blankly. Honestly, you have no idea what the fuck is going on. “I already paid. I don’t want you to.”

“It’s the proper thing to do.” He lightly grabs your arm, rubbing circles on it.

You scoff. “I don’t want you to pay. Think of it as a thank you for covering the pizza.” You get up and leave. There is something deep that’s making you flinch as you walk away from him. This dread and anticipation from a predator.

“Stop, don’t be dramatic.” You whisper to yourself, shaking away the feeling. There’s nothing to be weary of. This is a colleague, for crying out loud! Not some man in a white van.

You don’t tell Em what happened at her cafe since it was nothing to worry about. At least that’s what you tell yourself. Through the night the encounter ran through your mind. For some reason, it’s not leaving.

-------

Nevertheless, you head on and go to work the next day.

You enter your office thirty minutes before your time. You flick on the lights and see Naoya sitting in your chair with a coffee in his hand. He gets up and gives you the warm drink. You notice that it’s warm, not hot.

“What are you doing here?” Figuring that it may not be best to come off as accusatory or aggressive, you ask him with a smooth voice. “Well, with that report coming up, I guessed that you’d show up early,”

He spots something on you, staring intently at it. Naoya isn’t the most imposing man physically. What he lacks there is replaced in his demeanor and behavior. Naoya touches your face.

“Women shouldn’t wear so much makeup. It’s unbecoming.”

“What I do is none of your business, Naoya.” His eyes darken ever so slightly then clear up.

“Just be careful. People might get the wrong impression.” He touches your chin slightly. His eyes move to your lips and wipes them with his thumb. You stop breathing. You want to jerk your head away and fight but God…

“Enjoy the coffee.”

You can’t stop shaking.

-------

At lunch, you tell your friends what happened. “What?”

“Yeah. The coffee was warm, too.” You tap your foot.

Rue smacks her lips. “So what? He thought you liked warm coffee.” She takes another bite of her sub. You rub your temples. “No, I mean he was there for a while. It wasn’t warm like hot but lukewarm. He was there, in my office, in the dark, without my permission. He was waiting for me.”

The two of them stop eating. Speak of the devil and he’ll appear, the man walks in with a group of his colleagues. You couldn’t help but glare and make an annoyed face. Yuki points it out first.

“Honey, if you keep staring at him like that he won’t pay for your coffee anymore.” She says teasingly.

“I say take advantage of it, personally.” You roll your eyes at Rue and turn to Yuki. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

Leo comes up to your table. “What are you three clucking about?” You scoff at the man who seems to never get rid of his smile. “Rude. But to answer your question, (Y/n) over here has some news.”

Rue, you discover cannot hold water to save her life. Suddenly, he gets serious after she spills.

“You can take this up with HR. They can take care of this.” You sigh. “Don’t worry, I can handle him.”

After work, you head home. Nothing’s different or out of place in the routine. The neighbors still wave at you and the dogs still bark. Em isn’t at home, like normal at this time. Everything seems fine.

You get out of the car and lock it. Before you can even take the first step, another car pulls up. It’s sleek and black, clearly expensive and well taken care of. Out of the car is Naoya. You can’t hide the shock from your face.

He followed you home. You didn’t even see him.

He comes stomping towards you with a cup in hand. “I assume you didn’t drink the first, right? Here. Since you’ve acted like a brat all day and need coffee to behave.”

“This is seriously inappropriate! What are you doing here?” You don’t take the coffee from his hand. “If you don’t take it, I’m not leaving, I swear to God.”

You take it hesitantly. It’s iced and is slowly melting. “Since you don’t know how to act, I’ll have to teach you. Lucky for you, I’m a forgiving and patient man.”

He pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Read it. And drink.” He turns around and leaves you and slams his car door.

Dear,

When I provide, let me. It is not an option to deny a protector his darling and for you, my Summer sweet, to reject what I give. This letter is for you to know that the innate primal instinct is forever in your name even though you disrespected me.

Nevertheless, I will be here. Let me show you what a man’s supposed to do a few times. Denying an advance of a beautiful relationship speaks volumes of your pain that I wish to heal. One date at a time, one night at a time. All that is needed is your obedience.

“This letter…baby this is a threat. It’s…what’s the word? Crazy? Obsessive? You have to do something about this.”

“Rue said something about his position that worries me. His superior is his father. He’s got me over a barrel.”

“Yeah, he seems like a spoiled ass. What's this about your obedience? A night at a time? The guy’s a pig.” She tosses it on the counter. “This man can’t be reasoned with. He followed you home, broke into your office, followed you to my cafe-this is serious!”

You know that. You know that this guy is growing scarier. “I can handle it. I’ll tell him to leave me alone.”

“Baby, he asked you out in a threatening letter. Love? Being a provider and protector? This is insane. You have to tell your boss. Go to HR, something.”

“Leo knows of how he’s acting. But he’s out of the loop about Zenin following me home,” You walk through the kitchen for a mug. “Besides, HR is going to think we were together! They won’t believe me. Not when he’s sitting in a fancy chair that daddy gave him. I’ll handle this.”

"Why would HR think you're together?" She puts her hands on her hips. "Because it's a romantic poem-"

"There is not a damn thing romantic in this trash. At all." She rubs her face. “What’re going to do? All you did was not drink a coffee and he followed you home and wrote a threatening letter. This is serious!”

You pour a cup of coffee, not even wishing for the one Zenin gave you. “I can do this. Trust me.”

--------

At lunch, you tell your friends what happened. “What?”

“Yeah. The coffee was warm, too.” You tap your foot.

The two of them stop eating. Speak of the devil and he’ll appear, the man walks in with a group of his colleagues. You couldn’t help but glare and make an annoyed face. Yuki points it out first.

“Honey, if you keep staring at him like that he won’t pay for your coffee anymore.” She says teasingly.

“I say take advantage of it, personally.” You roll your eyes at Rue and turn to Yuki. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

Rue, you discover cannot hold water to save her life. Suddenly, he gets serious after she spills.

“You can take this up with HR. They can take care of this.” You sigh. “Don’t worry, I can handle him.”

He followed you home. You didn’t even see him.

He comes stomping towards you with a cup in hand. “I assume you didn’t drink the first, right? Here. Since you’ve acted like a brat all day and need coffee to behave.”

“This is seriously inappropriate! What are you doing here?” You don’t take the coffee from his hand. “If you don’t take it, I’m not leaving, I swear to God.”

You take it hesitantly. It’s iced and is slowly melting. “Since you don’t know how to act, I’ll have to teach you. Lucky for you, I’m a forgiving and patient man.”

He pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Read it. And drink.” He turns around and leaves you and slams his car door.

Dear,

“This letter…baby this is a threat. It’s…what’s the word? Crazy? Obsessive? You have to do something about this.”

“Rue said something about his position that worries me. His superior is his father. He’s got me over a barrel.”

You know that. You know that this guy is growing scarier. “I can handle it. I’ll tell him to leave me alone.”

“Baby, he asked you out in a threatening letter. Love? Being a provider and protector? This is insane. You have to tell your boss. Go to HR, something.”

"Why would HR think you're together?" She puts her hands on her hips. "Because it's a romantic poem-"

You pour a cup of coffee, not even wishing for the one Zenin gave you. “I can do this. Trust me.”

--------

At work, you avoid him like the plague. You even go as far as to change your schedule, much to your friends' dismay. Anytime he was conveniently on your floor for some fake ass reason, you leave. This behavior is becoming suspicious to your friends. They know of how he acted towards you but not to the extent that it has gotten.

Hopefully, he’ll stop coming towards you. He’ll stop breaking into your office and leaving coffees. If this continues on, you will go to HR.

You park your car and head inside the shabby little building. The lights flicker outside, fighting the dark. Its bold red print on the sign is fading and the parking lot only has a few cars. It is a writer’s class that you found with an excellent and self published writer for a teacher. All of your peers eagerly wait for her to come in.

“Hey! Did you get something down?” You ask Ren. His thick hair gets in his face before he moves it. His dark eyes trail to find yours and have a sparkle of excitement in them.

“A chapter! Like, a whole chapter. I couldn’t believe it.” You gasp and pat him on the back. “Getting out of your slump! I can’t wait to read it.”

Suddenly, the door opens and reveals a devil. Naoya Zenin waltz’s through in his casual clothing. The teacher introduces him to the class. You are the only one that doesn’t welcome him, earning a curious look from Ren. The teacher goes on and asks for anyone to present. Zenin stands up with his catlike eyes gleaming and a smirk on his face. This can’t be good.

He clears his throat. “My dearest dream weaver, my heart’s sake divine. I’ve wondered about these streets for years, hoping for a moment of clarity from you. Alas, there isn't a thing to make you go away. Did you know this when you saw me, you with a beautiful face?

You, my nightmare who keeps me up, a ghost of a heavenly past. I gave you words of my declaration yet you turn away from me. The turn of your face and hidden eyes aren’t what’s terrible in my mind. It is the question of what’ll happen after.”

The class is silent until the teacher praises his poem. He stares into your soul, a cold wash scaring you. After class, you get up and practically run outside. “Hey, let me drive you home!”

“No!” You shout at Zenin. You need to get out of here. To run into your home and hide. “Don’t be difficult!”

You drop your keys on the pavement right as you try to put them into the slot. Your hands shake. “Shit, fuck!”

“I just want to talk!”

You hear a car and see bright lights. No one drives a fancy car like that except for him.

“Please, please…” You get inside and lock the doors. Wasting no time that God has given you, you drive like a bat out of hell.

“I need to go…” You come to the decision.

--------

You tap your foot, nervous about this meeting.

“What are you talking about? Naoya Zenin is the son of Naobito Zenin. It is said that out of his brothers, he'll be the one to inherit,” HR is an older woman with pristine white hair in a bun. Her lipstick is a bit dry but otherwise impeccable. Her voice is so proper it makes you want to take classes to clean yours up. "This is not some run of the mill employee. What happened?"

“He’s followed me home twice that I know of, to my writer’s class, given me coffee and letters. He even read one in the class.”

“Perhaps you misunderstood the writer’s class letter. It could’ve been his genuine assignment.” She sits in her chair and gestures for you to follow. You sigh as you sit down. “No, it was his first time. He couldn’t have known about any assignments. Ma’am, please. He stares at me while I��m working and hovers through the entire floor until he finds me. I’ve even had to change my schedule to avoid him.”

She brings out a paper, a form for her to fill out. You begin to smile when you see that. “Did you have a prior relationship?”

“No, no. I don’t know him.”

“Spend time outside of work at any point?”

“His first day, I think?” She writes in perfect writing. “But everyone went. Actually, Rue and Yuki were with me at the time. We were already there when he and Leo showed up. He paid for the meal, but that’s it.”

Her eyes don’t look right to you. You smile anyway. Once she moves her eyes from the paper to you, a perfectly trimmed eyebrow raises up. “Do you always smile like that?”

Your face drops at the question and your heart aches when she writes it down.

You cry in the bathroom. Seeing your makeup smudging, you desperately try to save it at the same time.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Yuki comes in. Looking at her concerned face, tears start to shed again, relentlessly trailing down your face. Without hesitation, you spill everything. You don’t have the letters with you at the moment, but you insist on the legitimacy.

“I believe you.” You throw your arms around her neck and hug her. Her vanilla scent has always been fragrant and sweet. Yet never has it been sweeter and more welcomed than now.

“Come on, let’s go out to lunch. How about your friend’s cafe? She makes excellent muffins.” You chuckle and wipe your tears. “How can you think of food at a time like this?”

“Easy,” She looks you over, inspecting your state. “Oh honey, you’re a mess. No way am I going there with you.”

“The hell?” You look into the bathroom mirror and see what she means. Your mascara is running, foundation is suffering and various other things. You laugh as you side eye her.

“Come on, let’s fix you up.”

You bring out the only touch up makeup you have in your purse and do the best you can.

At the cafe, you see Em and wave. She hurries to you and Yuki. “Is everything okay? Is it the creep again?” She rubs your back gently.

“We’re just hungry and here for a ‘pick me up’.” Yuki smiles. Em pats her chest. “I was about to say. That creep is a menace. Do you know?”

“Yeah, she told us that he was in her office. I just now found out about the legit stalking when I found her in the bathroom. I knew he was being weird, but this is crazy.”

Em nods and turns to a barista with bright blue eyeshadow and full lips. “I need muffins, coffee, chamomile tea, cookies-”

“That’s not necessary, Em.” You touch her hand to get her to stop since she is still going. After she’s finished, she sits down and asks you, “So what happened? Why were you crying?”

Yuki nods and thanks the barista who sees your red, puffy eyes and gives you a sympathetic smile. You take a sip of your coffee and then clear your throat. The thought of the meeting that you just had makes your lip wobble.

“Apparently, I smile too much.”

---

The next day you attend work, the elevator door opens to a bouncing Leo. “You’ll never believe the news I have for you.”

You step out and walk alongside him, passing your colleagues and unattended Dahlia plant on a random desk. The receptionist on the floor scrambles to his phone and answers it with a professional, yet tired, tone. It matches Rue’s perfectly.

“What’s the news?”

“You’re up for the promotion.” You halt and gasp. “Me? Are you serious?”

“Dead. Come with me.” You follow him earnestly with questions on your tongue. “Why? There are people who’ve been here a lot longer. Surely, there are people who are better.”

You knew that you were talked about, but for you to be put in front of the line is crazy. He opens the door for you to enter his office. “Enough with the questions. Listen, this is a prime opportunity and you are way better than you give yourself credit for.”

You sit down on one of his chairs. “Leo, I’m serious. There must be a mistake.”

“Nope!” He sits behind his desk. And turns his pencil holder twice.

“Who would take that risk? Yes, I work hard. Yes, I am driven. But I’m not experienced enough. I knew it was possible for me and I’m excited! But for me to be actually getting it?” You bounce your stocking covered leg. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

Leo turns his pencil holder again. “It’s a promotion with numerous benefits. Higher pay, a better office-”

You interrupt. “Who’s taking that risk, Leo.” Your suspicion is growing. Not just because of the proposition, but the way he turns his clay pencil holder with his daughter’s sunflower painting on it. The way he avoids the answer and has a wide smile on his face that is now looking forced.

“A promotion is a promotion…right?” He sounds so unsure, almost as if he’s asking you for the answer and permission. The answer to this riddle is right there. A name and a face deep in your gut. “Zenin?”

Leo and the whole office knows about him now. It was Yuki’s form of being petty. No one has said anything to him or the higher ups, though. “Yes.”

“Leo! No, no I won’t accept something he has to offer. If I get promoted it will be fair and square.”

“I know it’s not ideal, but the rest agreed on you. Even though he brought you up, it was unanimous.”

You shake your head, now completely disgusted. “Leo, I won’t. I’ll never owe him a damn thing.”

Leo stands up. “I’m with you then, kid.”

------

You go to H.R. again. “Ma’am, look into it again. He’s now getting in the way of my job.”

She scoffs and takes a deep breath. “This promotion-”

“Isn’t right. I take pride in my work, absolutely so. What Zenin is doing isn’t fair to anyone. If I get a promotion, it’ll be on my terms. I won’t win unfairly. I won’t let him bypass all the others that deserve a chance at getting this position.”

She studies you and your conviction. “I will never owe him a thing. Here are his letters,” You slam them down on her desk. The thick wad of paper slaps against it, showing just how bad it has gotten. “And these aren’t even the ones he’s written in my class.”

She licks her lips. “I know this is odd. But men in his position are a bit eccentric anyway as far as I can-”

You interrupt her. “I also wrote down all of the witnesses including those on my floor. He walks through it and stares at me, following me. Tries to make conversation even when I say no. He’ll touch me in harmless ways that have more meaning than they look. He’ll break into my office! Lord only knows what sensitive information he’s touched."

You put your hands on her desk. "Ma’am, I’m unrelenting on this. He’s still following me home. You have to do something.”

She nods subtly. “I can suggest counseling to the higher ups and show how this has become. I cannot guarantee what’ll happen.”

It’s better than nothing. “What if they say he has to go and he doesn’t? He has a high position, also.”

“Yes, he does. But a unanimous decision trumps him anyway. May I keep these?” You say yes and push the letters to her. “And if there are any photos, emails, phone calls, anything, give them to me.”

---

When coming home, you decided not to go to your writer’s class. You haven’t dropped out, though. Breaks are good. They’re exceptional even. Perfect for mental health. This is the lightest you’ve felt in a while. Things were being taken seriously and the ball is rolling. You exit the car and are met with a furious Zenin, who comes from behind your home.

“How dare you. How dare you!” He stomps over to you. His hair is still in place and his suit is still pressed. “I hand you the answer to your prayers and you bite.”

“I’m not taking that promotion, Zenin. I want to get it fairly, without help.”

“Naoya. Call me Naoya.” There's a lilt in his voice. He stands perfectly straight and unbothered. He takes a deep breath. “Perhaps you didn’t understand me to begin with. (Y/n),” His voice is back to a serious tone. Zenin clasps your hands gently and stares into your eyes with sincerity. “Our relationship is simple. You are my woman; all I require is your obedience.”

He caresses your cheek. You can’t breathe.

“No.” Is all you can muster. You run inside to find the door unlocked and Em sitting in the living room. Quickly, you lock it securely. “Is the back door unlocked?”

“What?” She props herself up. “Is it unlocked?!”

“Don’t yell at me!” She drops her magazine on the coffee table. Your breath is ragged, too scared to work properly. Em makes her way to you and is gentle. “Everything’s locked up. Why? What’s wrong?”

“He’s out there. He thinks we’re together. It’s not a crush. He genuinely believes we’re in love.”

Em peeks out the window and sees him in his car, clenching his cellphone. The home phone that Em insists on keeping, rings. She answers it, not bothering to look at the ID. Suddenly, a wicked voice speaks through.

“Put her on the fucking phone now!”

“How the fuck did you get this number?” Em is way calmer than you. Way, way, calmer. “Put her on-”

“No!” She hangs up. The black corded phone rings again and again. “I can’t stay here, Em.”

“I’m going with you. No arguments.”

The two of you quickly found a new apartment with new numbers. Even the cafe’s number changed. The apartment isn’t the best. It’s a cheap one with bad neighbors and a shady landlord. All of it is temporary and honestly, you feel safer here. What you feel bad about is Em’s house. She still owns it and is trying to find new renters or if it comes down to it, buyers.

-----

It has been days, weeks, since you have had to be subjected by Naoya’s presence. Although the first day was refreshing, you can’t help but wonder if this growing anxiety is from his absence or from impending doom.

“Okay, you guys. I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back.”

Your friends, Em, Rue, and Yuki sit at a little round table waiting for the loaded nachos appetizer. You head to the bathroom and dodge the plenty of people in the popular bar. The smell of cigarette smoke and cold beer is slight. The dim lights still work and help you find your way.

Finally in the bathroom, you touch up your makeup. Not just for yourself but for a man at a table who has been eyeing you since you came in. Strange thick white hair, sparkling blue eyes, and perfectly sized lips. His long fingers gripped the beer glass, completely wrapped around it. How his round eyes peered over the glass just to look at you made your face incredibly warm.

It has been a while.

You finish swiping your lipstick when a loud bang shocks you. A furious Zenin charges towards you. His eyes are bolder and eyebrows so furrowed that you could swear they’d stay there. He is growing redder by the second and his hands twitch with anticipation.

“What did you do? How could you?”

“I need to go-” You try to brush past him.

“Don’t take another fucking step, I swear to God.” He comes a little closer. “How could you? Lie about me to the office and my colleagues? Force me into counseling to talk to a quack about our relationship? After all I’ve done to show my love, this is how you act. You embarrass me?”

“I never wanted to embarrass you. I just want you to leave me alo-” He smashes the mirror with his bare hands and yet has no scratches. You shriek when the impact occurs, your instincts realizing that you may die here. That he really is a man on the edge.

“Is everything okay?” A woman with dull red hair and bright green eyes enters. She looks at the two of you curiously and gasps at the mirror.

“Get out!” He screams at her. She screams and takes off. “Help me, please!” You yell before the door closes. You pray she heard you in time. To get some kind of help or to at least come back to save you.

“How far do I have to go? For you to remember our love? To accept it and how much of a man I am? Why do I even have to prove it?!”

“You don’t have to prove anything! We are not in love!” He backs away slowly. “Don’t make me lose my temper. Do not push me there. Take the promotion, work with me. I have to keep you on a leash since you won't behave on your own. Your rightful place is by my side, (Y/n). As your fiancé, I demand it.”

“I’ll go to the police, Zenin. I swear I will.” Tears stream down your face. You slowly back away. He opens the door. “If you do, I’ll show you what I’m capable of, God have mercy on you and me.”

When the door closes quietly, you faint, hitting the pink tile.

You walk to HR with the red haired woman’s number and statement in your hand. Along with it is the manager’s, and multiple people who heard your cry and saw you being carried out unconscious by the white haired man.

“Here. You wanted evidence. All of these people are witnesses on how far he will go. He trapped me in the bathroom, threatened me, broke property and-and-” Air is being slowly taken from you as you try to talk. A clenching feeling in your chest threatens to burst.

“This. I’ve had to move, change my number, I can’t go back to my writer’s class without him being there, convincing everyone that the letters are from his love rather than his psychosis.”

Her eyes become wider by the second as she reads everything. “I encourage you to get a personal restraining order. I’ll bring this to the higher ups but I cannot guarantee a company one. He has already been told to stay away from you unless necessary.”

You shake your head as tears fall. “I can’t. He’s threatened-”

“That matter is up to you. I will go by company protocol. This alone will not be enough, (Y/n).”

---

“What are you saying? Do you know who I am?” Zenin bounces his leg slightly, determined to not show that this is getting to him. The bright room with several elders at the rectangular table stare at him. Not a single thing in this is comforting.

“You do understand how serious this is, don’t you? Phone calls, stalking-”

“We’re in a relationship. We have been since we were kids. Our parents arranged our betrothal. I’m merely acting as a man should with his future wife.”

“No, no that’s not how it goes, Naoya.” A woman sits straighter, observing his behavior, catching every little thing. Naoya taps his fingers on the wooden table. “That’s the proper way a married couple acts. This isn’t stalking, this is making sure she stays in line.”

“She isn’t some fiance of yours. She’s an employee. Our employee.” A man with greying hair gestures between the higher ups. Naoya sits straighter. “Am I not a part of that?”

“Depends.” The woman states. He can’t help but glare at the woman. “As a shareholder, a man of the future position of CEO,”

“This will halt that, Naoya. That’s what we’re telling you.”

The world stops. He can only hear the faint buzzing noise. “Are you taking this company, my inheritance, away from me?” He’s burning hot.

“We want you to stay, Naoya. But this behavior has to stop. This is serious.”

Naoya stiffens then with the calmest tone says, “I have weapons like you wouldn’t believe. If I lose my job, my heritance, because of my woman’s dramatization, I’ll end it. Not just me but everyone.”

“Are you saying, if you lost your job, you’ll kill us?” The woman stiffens. “Everyone. I am Naoya Zenin, a man who will not be rejected.” The air is sucked out of the room.

----

“Naoya Zenin has been fired.” HR comes to you personally. “I want you to take a couple of days away. Not just to your home, but elsewhere. Just for a few days.”

“What’s happening?” Leo asks. He stands next to you, curious and cautious.

“It’s been handled. (Y/n), this is not our problem anymore. The ball is in your court.”

You stand up, smoothing your pencil skirt. “Thank you.”

“For your safety, I suggest a restraining order immediately.” She leaves. Leo looks at you with a frown on his face. "What the fuck happened?" You shrug, not wanting to know the answer.

“Mother?” She’s the first thing you see when the door opens with a suitcase in your hand and a forced smile on your face. “What’re doing here, child?”

“I just need to sleep here for a few days. Is that okay?” You didn't want to bring Em, Rue, and Yuki into this. You thought it was best to leave the apartment for a bit, so it didn't disturb anything.

“No. Not after all of this,” She closes the door and steps onto the porch. “Why now? After your independence.”

She crosses her arms and looks at you condescendingly. You want to scream. “A man at my job is stalking me. He just got fired because of it and they suggested I hide.”

“What?” She uncrosses her arms and gently touches your arm. “It was one of my bosses. He’s completely delusional.”

“W-well, who is he?”

“Naoya Zenin? You probably never heard of him. He was a big shot at the company but he assaulted me-”

“Child, who did you say?” You repeat his name that tasted foul on your tongue. “Why would you do this? He was almost-”

“What? You know him?”

“You do too. Then again, it has been a long time. Back then, he was smitten with you and we tried to set the two of you up. Never did I think he’d go this far. Especially when it was denied. Both of you went your separate ways.”

Your mouth falls as you process her information. “Mom…this can’t be. I don’t remember him at all. Did he know of your plans?”

“Yes, he did. His father was joking about it. Nothing was to come of it.”

You drop your suitcase. Is this why? He deluded himself or possibly love you in a psychotic yet childish way? “What do I do now?” You whisper, totally flabbergasted that he remembered you and held onto this. Something that was to never be. “Ha, actually, you’re the one who rejected him-”

“Mom! What do I do?” Her lips go to a thin line, contemplating your problem. She looks up at you with an intense stare. “Get a restraining order. It was a bad idea to do all of this but now you have no choice.”

The way she put it stings but the answer to the problem is a restraining order. It’s exactly what you did. Called a lawyer and got a temporary restraining order until trial.

It goes downhill from there.

The trial is set for this week, which you prayed that the day would come soon. Only for it to be met with gunshots. The first floor is the first to meet him. You hear them clearly while in your office. The window looks great to jump out of right about now. Before you can think anymore, Naoya bursts the door open with a bang. You stand up, terrified of not only the gun but how blank his expression is. Like this isn’t fazing him in the slightest.

There's no air in the room just pressure. Time is frozen as the two of you have a stare off. A buzzing noise comes from the broken lights in the hallway, the metallic scent of blood is too much. There are red splotches on his clothes and on the large gun. He carries more on him, more disgusting violence and stupidity.

“Naoya, no!” You grip the edge of your desk, hurting your finger. Perhaps the pain from it will wake you up from this nightmare.

“As my wife you should’ve known better. A restraining order? Against your husband!”

“I didn’t remember-”

He curses at you and fires a shot. Your body topples back from the impact. He stares at your unconscious figure, then goes to leave. "I know you're not dead yet. You better live because I'm not through with you."

When you awake, the shots are still firing. Screams are still heard, and the nightmare continues. “No, no, God, please…”

Your upper arm was hit, the bullet clean through. The blood is all over your shirt and even on your bottoms. You take your jacket off and press it onto your wound. Shakily, you stand up and slowly walk out. Reo, the receptionist on your floor, is the first you see. Slumped over his desk with a phone in his hand. The red dahlia plant is shattered.

Next, are two colleagues who worked at the other side of the floor, shot in the back. You quickly walk away, doing it as quietly as you can.

With every popping sound you flinch harder and harder. The phone on someone’s desk is untouched with blood or a dead hand. You pick it up and call for the police, somebody, anybody. “My name is-”

A smooth and stern voice interrupts. “This line is for-”

“Please, please save us. I’ve been shot.” You whimper. His tone changes to one of complete sympathy. “We can’t storm in right now. Just sit tight and hide. Where are you? What’s your name?”

You tell him what he wants to know. “He’s on the third floor I think? I can still hear him.”

“Thank you so much. Now, (Y/n), you have to hide. Put pressure on the wound and hide.”

“I’m doing that already. Please get me out of here-” You hear another shot that is closer. You duck behind a barrier, hearing the devil enter. The phone rings and Zenin answers with annoyance in his voice. “Before you say anything, you need to know that this is all because of her. My wife.”

“Who?”

“(Y/n) Zenin. Had she just listened, accepted me as her husband and a man, we wouldn’t be here. It’d never have come to this. This is all her fault.”

You silently cry at the truth. It is true right? Maybe if you just caved and went to him, accepted his love and left everyone out of this, they’d be alive today. “I will blow this building to hell if you don’t back off.”

Not bearing to hear it anymore, you crawl out the best you can. Worried for your friends, for everyone. "She's missing. I think she's walking around or escaped. If you see her, tell her I'm coming for her."

You hit the stairs as quietly as you can. He’s still ranting about you to the policeman. Hopefully the love of his own voice overpowers the sound of your footsteps. You see the sign for the lobby and push the doors open to it. Glass is everywhere in the lobby and blood coats the walls. To your right is Rue, laying on the floor with her eyes open in horror. Her red lipstick matches the blood on her chest. You touch her face with an apology on your tongue.

“Forgive me, forgive me…” You leave her and exit this hell you created. You pray that everyone else escapes it. You pray that time rewinds and you alone are punished with this. For Rue, for everyone.

The ambulance hauls you in. The corner of your eye Yuki stands with an officer, desperately hanging onto him, crying. You’re on the bus before you can apologize.

It takes hours of surgery to fix your arm. You’re ordered to stay for a little while. The small white room smells of bleach and cleaner. You can't close your eyes, or you will see Zenin, standing at the door waiting for you. It changes every time you blink. He'll have a gun and another he'll be completely unarmed and leaning on the door frame, smirking. You can't get rid of his image.

In the room comes Em and surprisingly, Yuki. Right as you see them, you beg for forgiveness and your apologies fill the room. You look Yuki in the eyes and are reminded of Rue’s death. Her bloodied corpse and horrified face will stick with you forever.

“Enough!” Yuki yells. She sports a cut on her eyebrow but otherwise looks alright if you don't count the slight shaking. “It’s over. All done.”

“He’s not out there anymore. He can’t hurt you.” Em says sweetly. She comes to your side and holds your trembling hand. Her warmth tries to bring you a comfort that you reject. “It’s all my fault. All of it. Every single-”

“No! This is on him and him alone. You have the right to say no. You did what you had to. It’s no one’s fault but his.”

“Yuki…” You can’t finish your sentence, choking up. Yuki’s eyes are watering. “We’ll survive this. He won’t win.”

“Ever.” Em affirms. Yuki grabs your hand, too. The guilt will always be there. But his hold will fade away one day at a time, and every time you will spit on his grave.

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majaloveschris · 6 months ago

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Hi Maja.

First of all, your blog is one of the only ones I’ve always felt was sincere, on point, respectful, and not toxic. I’ve always had a good feeling about you and how you are kind despite all the toxicity on here.

That feeling has never wavered and there is a big part of me that wants you to be right and win against these ridiculous anons that seem to want to put you down.

An opinion (which I don’t claim to be fact, just some thoughts here): I see a lot of takes on here popping up from blogs that claim they have PR knowledge and claim to be experts and read and follow along the gossip, but I think nobody really knows and they can only hypothesize on what they think is the truth.

I think CE being married (by public knowledge and Wikipedia) was the main goal here. I’ve always sort of felt this, which is why I ultimately was not surprised after he did his SMA spread that he went public with Fish girl and then later on “got married.”

The reason I say this is because HW and society is very judgmental and superficial. Being single or unmarried at a certain age always raises questions whether or not it is valid to do so. I disagree with this sentiment but unfortunately the world is how it is. It happens to regular people, so why wouldn’t it apply to celebs? Especially the ones who have basically become a pop culture icon of being an eligible bachelor/desirable.

Let’s think about this. After 2019, CE was no longer under the marvel umbrella. He had to start defining his post marvel career, and then Covid hit. So many things derailed. He randomly got an IG in 2020 but people found out it had existed as an account since 2019. Perhaps it was always the plan or it was a plan hatched by his PR team to keep him in the public eye. He became relatable internet BF with a Prince Charming storyline of when will he find the one? It was almost overkill from 2020-2022.

Now it’s 2024 and he’s supposedly been with this woman since 2021. It shows longevity and then eventual commitment. He now wears a ring in public so they see him as “settled down.” That’s the image he is now portraying for the public who doesn’t dig or care to deeper in his life.

I don’t think it’s about rebranding to attract a younger audience - if so, his pr team would have realized that gen Z actually does not fare well to age gaps and the subject of grooming and etc always comes up for this hypersensitive on PC/wokeness generation. Then add on the racism and weird ass crap from her/her friends. Definitely not boding well for a generation that lives on the internet and knows how to deep dive. His PR team would have looked at how the public reacted to other relationships like this and I feel, if it was simply he was in love with her and it was real real, would have told him to keep it on the DL DL until it was absolutely certain they had walked down the aisle. At that point, there would be no turning back.

But they marketed this before that happened. They wanted to portray her as the one similar to how in movies, they want to portray a main character and love interest as meant to be even if the audience may or may not receive it that way. How many times do we hear “this movie tanked because the leads had no chemistry and the relationship they wanted us to believe was not believable?”

But ultimately, the endgoal of if CE and his wife are a good couple or not doesn’t really matter. They have achieved their goal of he is now settled down and no longer on the market. If you choose to continue to follow him, stay for his career and not his personal life. Meanwhile, her - well, they’ll keep trying to make her happen because her end of the deal was getting more visibility and breaking into the American market. That much has been clear.

But you can lead a horse to water, you can’t make it drink.

What she chooses to do with the opportunities given to her are left to be seen. Also, how the public and CE/her fanbases chooses to receive them are also left to be seen.

Will this marriage last forever? I have doubts. But I do think they considered many options and this is what they came up with. I also don’t believe CE’s actions show he is very happy with the arrangement, even less so than fish is. Because even from the subtle clues from photos and “videos” - body language does not lie.

To be fair to fish, I doubt she’s in love with him either. I think she’s getting more benefits from this because most of the negativity is being directed towards him, not her. His fans hating and harassing her are just a pinnacle of what he’s receiving from his own fanbase. Some people will disagree with me but he’s the one getting the P and G and disgusting comments and being called the worst person on earth because he married her. His own fans are turning on him and her fans can also blame him but victimize her. The general public doesn’t care too much but will say how he looks because he got with her. She remains “innocent” of any blame because at the end, she is young and he is older so he should know better. Do you see what I mean?

Meanwhile, her fans are just happy she’s getting attention and somebody to fund her poor attempts at becoming a fashion icon. She lacks in talent and work ethic but it’s an easy way for her to get engagement by being attached to him.

The day this ends and she no longer has his name will be interesting and that’s what I think his fans (remaining) are hoping for. They don’t want to reward laziness and clout chasing opportunist and I too support this. They want HIM to be better and find success and love himself more so he doesn’t continue to end up in these shitty situations. But again, he has to want that for himself. He has to want to deserve better so he can work on actually deserving of better.

I hope I didn’t offend anyone with this opinion. Just my thoughts and I support YOU. I hope things work out in the end in your favor because you are a great person and I selfishly want you to be right (haha). ❤️

I completely agree with everything that you wrote down.

I remember seeing people criticize him for saying he wants to get married and have a family, yet he is still single and childless. As you said, it's stupid that people are being bullied and judged because they haven't already settled down, even if they wanted to. Finding a partner is hard, and finding a partner in his shoes is even harder. I obviously don't know whether he actually wants all of that, but saying he must not want all of that because he didn't do so is not right. A lot of people struggle with finding a good partner.

I never agreed with people calling him by the P and G words. I guess these people either don't know what those words mean or are simply that mad as Chris that they feel the need to spread lies. He is not those things and never was. Yeah, 16 years is a lot, but she was a grownup when they allegedly met, and I think people exaggerate when they say she looks like a child.

I think the reason most people are hateful towards him is because they are disappointed in him. I think most people had an idea about the person he is based on the information we had, and him being married to someone like her or even dating someone like her doesn't really fit into that. People aren't disappointed in her because most didn't even know who she was before Chris. We were just presented with her actual self, and we didn't have any expectations from her. But we had for him.

I doubt either of them is in love with each other. Alba doesn't seem that happy or comfortable around him either. I think this is just business for both of them.

I still think he is a good man who made a terrible mistake. I just hope the best for him, to be honest, which I know is an unpopular opinion now because it seems like wanting the worst for him is what is trendy nowadays. Maybe I'm naive; maybe I'm just holding onto an image, but I don't think the last 20+ years were a lie. I hope he will prove me right.

Thanks for writing this down and for being there. ♥

#majaloveschris #chris and alba pr #cevans-love

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thesublemon · 7 months ago

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best picture

For the first time in a long time, I watched all of the movies nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars this year. Partly on a whim, partly for a piece I’ve been working on for a while about what is going wrong in contemporary artmarking. I cannot say that the experience made me feel any better or worse about contemporary movies than I already felt, which was pretty bad. But sometimes to write about a hot stove, you gotta put your hand on one. So. The nominees for coldest stove are:

Poor Things. Did not like enough to finish. I always want to like something that is making an effort at originality, strangeness, or style. Unfortunately, the execution of those things in this movie felt somehow dull and thin. Hard to explain how. Maybe the movie’s motif of things mashed together (baby-woman, duck-dog, etc) is representative. People have been mashing things together since griffins, medleys, Avatar the Last Airbender’s animals, Nickelodeon’s Catdog, etc. Thing + thing is elementary-level weird. And while there’s nothing wrong with a simple, or well-worn premise, there is a greater burden on an artist to do something interesting with it, if they go that route. And Poor Things does not. Its themes are obvious and belabored (the difficulty of self-actualization in a world that violently infantilizes you) and do not elevate the premise. There’s a fine line between the archetypal and the hackish, and this movie falls on the wrong side of it. It made me miss Crimes of the Future (2022), a recent Cronenberg that was authentically original and strange, with the execution to match.

Anatomy of a Fall. Solid, but not stunning. The baseline level of what a ‘good’ movie should be. It was written coherently and economically, despite its length. It told a story that drew you along. I wanted to know what happened, which is the least you can ask from storytelling. It had some compelling scenes that required a command of character and drama to write—particularly the big argument scene. The cinematography was not interesting, but it was not annoying either. It did its job. This was not, however, a transcendent movie.

Oppenheimer. Did not like enough to finish. But later forced myself to, just so no one could accuse me of not knowing what I was talking about when I said I disliked it. I felt like I was being pranked. The Marvel idea of what a prestige biopic should be. Like Poor Things, it telegraphed its artsiness and themes and has raked in accolades for its trouble. But obviousness is not the same as goodness and this movie is not good. The imagery is painfully literal. A character mentions something? Cut to a shot of it! No irony or nuance added by such images—just the artistry of a book report. The dialogue pathologically tells instead of shows. It constantly, cutely references things you might have heard of, the kind of desperate audience fellation you see in soulless franchise movies. Which is a particularly jarring choice given the movie’s subject matter. ‘Why didn’t you get Einstein for the Manhattan project’ Strauss asks, as if he’s saying ‘Why didn’t you get Superman for the Avengers?’ If any of this referentiality was an attempt to say something about mythologization, it failed—badly. The movie is stuffed with famous and talented actors, but it might as well not have been, given how fake every word out of their mouths sounded. Every scene felt like it had been written to sound good in a trailer, rather than to tell a damn story. All climax and no cattle.

Barbie. Did not like enough to finish. It had slightly more solidity in its execution than I was afraid it would have, so I will give it that. If people want this to be their entertainment I will let them have it. But if they want this to be their high cinema I will have to kill myself. Barbie being on this list reminds me of the midcentury decades of annual movie musical nominations for Best Picture. Sometimes deservingly. Other times, less so. The Music Man is great, but it’s not better than 8 1/2 or The Great Escape, neither of which were nominated in 1963. Musicals tend to appeal to more popular emotions, which ticket-buyers and award-givers tend to like, and critics tend to dislike. I remember how much Pauline Kael and Joan Didion hated The Sound of Music (which won in 1966), and have to ask myself if in twenty years I’ll think of my reaction to Barbie the same way that I think of those reviews: justified, but perhaps beside the point of other merits. Thing is. Say what you want about musicals, but that genre was alive back then. It was vital. Bursting with creativity. For all Kael’s bile, even she acknowledged that The Sound of Music was “well done for what it is.” [1] Contemporary cinema lacks such vitality, and Barbie is laden with symptoms of the malaise. It repeatedly falls back on references to past aesthetic successes (2001: A Space Odyssey, Singin’ in the Rain, etc) in order to have aesthetic heft. It has a car commercial in the middle. It’s about a toy from 60 years ago and politics from 10 years ago. It tries to wring some energy and meaning from all of that but not enough to cover the stench of death. I’d prefer an old musical any day.

American Fiction. Was okay. It tried to be clever about politics, but ended up being clomping about politics. At the end of the day, it just wasn’t any more interesting than any other ‘intellectual has a mid-life crisis’ story, even with the ‘twist’ of it being from a black American perspective. Even with it being somewhat self-aware of this. But it could have been a worse mid-life crisis story. The cinematography was terrible. It was shot like a sitcom. Much of the dialogue was sitcom-y too. I liked the soundtrack, what I could hear of it. The attempts at style and meta (the characters coming to life, the multiple endings) felt underdeveloped. Mostly because they were only used a couple times. In all, it felt like a first draft of a potentially more interesting movie.

The Zone of Interest.Wanted to like it more than I did. Unfortunately, you get the point within about five minutes. If you’ve seen the promotional image of the people in the garden, backgrounded by the walls of Auschwitz, then you’ve already seen the movie. Which means that all the rest of the movie ends up feeling like pretentious excess instead of moving elaboration. It seemed very aware of itself as an Important Movie and rested on those laurels, cinematically speaking, in a frustrating way. It reminded me of video art. I felt like I had stepped through a black velvet drape into the side room of a gallery, wondering at what point the video started over. And video art has its place, but it is a different medium. Moreover video art at its best, like a movie at its best, takes only the time it needs to say what it needs to say.

Past Lives. I’m a human being, and I respond to romance. I appreciate the pathos of sweet yearning and missed chances. And I understand how the romance in this movie is a synecdoche for ambivalent feelings about many kinds of life choices, particularly the choice to be an immigrant and choose one culture over another. The immigrant experience framing literalizes the way any choice can make one foreign to a past version of oneself, or the people one used to know, even if in another sense one is still the same person. So, I appreciate the emotional core of what (I believe) this movie was going for, and do think it succeeded in some respects. And yet…I was very irritated by most of its artistic choices. I found the three principal characters bland and therefore difficult to care about, sketched with only basic traits besides things like Striving and Being In Love. Why care who they’d be in another life if they have no personalities in this one? It’s fine to make characters symbols instead of humans if the symbolic tapestry of a movie is interesting and rich, but the symbolic tapestry of this movie was quite simple and straightforward. Not that that last sentence even matters much, since the movie clearly wanted you to feel for the characters as human beings, not just symbols. Visually, the cinematography was dull and diffuse, with composition that was either boring or as subtle as a hammer to the head.

Maestro. Did not like enough to finish. Something strange and wrong about this movie. It attempts to perform aesthetic mimicry with impressive precision—age makeup, accents, period cinematography—but this does not make the movie a better movie. At most it creates spectacle, at worst it creates uncanny valleys. It puts one on the lookout for irregularities, instead of allowing one to disappear into whatever the movie is doing. Something amateurishly pretentious in the execution. And not in the fun, respectable way, like a good student film. (My go-to example for a movie that has an art-school vibe in a pleasant way is The Reflecting Skin). There’s something desperate about it instead. It has the same disease as Oppenheimer, of attempting to do a biopic in a ‘stylish’ way without working on the basics first. Fat Man and Little Boy is a less overtly stylish rendition of the same subject as Oppenheimer, but far more cinematically successful to me, because it understands those basics. I would prefer to see the Fat Man and Little Boy of Leonard Bernstein’s life unless a filmmaker proves that they can do something with style beyond mimicry and flash.

The Holdovers. Did not like enough to finish. It tries to be vintage, but outside of a few moments, it does not succeed either at capturing what was good about the aesthetic it references, or at using the aesthetic in some other interesting way. The cinematography apes the tropes of movies and TV from the story’s time period, but doesn't have interesting composition in its own right. It lacks the solidity that comes from original seeing. (Contrast with something like Planet Terror, in which joyous pastiche complements the original elements.) The acting is badly directed. Too much actorliness is permitted. Much fakeness in general between the acting, writing, and visual language. If a movie with this same premise was made in the UK in the 60’s or 70's it would probably be good. As-is the movie just serves to make me sad that the ability to make such movies is apparently lost and can only be hollowly gestured at. That said, the woman who won best supporting actress did a good job. She was the only one who seemed to be actually acting.

Killers of the Flower Moon. The only possible winner. It is not my favorite of Scorsese’s movies, but compared to the rest of the lineup it wins simply by virtue of being a movie at all. How to define ‘being a movie’? Lots of things I could say that Killers of the Flower Moon has and does would also be superficially true of other movies in this cohort. Things like: it tells a story, with developed characters who drive that story. Or: it uses its medium (visuals, sound) to support its story and its themes. The difference comes down to richness, specificity, control, and a je ne sais quois that is beyond me to describe at the moment. Compare the way Killers of the Flower Moon uses a bygone cinematic style (the silent movie) to the way that Maestro and The Holdovers do. Killers of the Flower Moon uses a newsreel in its opening briefly and specifically. The sequence sets the scene historically, and gives you the necessary background with the added panache of confident cuts and music. It’s useful to the story and it’s satisfying to watch. Basics. But the movie doesn’t limit itself to that, because it’s a good movie. The sequence also sets up ideas that will be continuously developed over the course of the movie.* And here’s the kicker—the movie doesn’t linger on this sequence. You get the idea, and it moves on to even more ideas. Also compare this kind of ideating to American Fiction’s. When I said that American Fiction’s moments of style felt underdeveloped, I was thinking of movies like Killers of the Flower Moon, which weave and evolve their stylistic ideas throughout the entire runtime.

*(Visually, it places the Osage within a historical medium that the audience probably does not associate with Native Americans, or the Osage in particular. Which has a couple of different effects. First, it acts as a continuation of the gushing oil from the previous scene. It’s an interruption. A false promise. Seeming belonging and power, but framed all the while by a foreign culture. Meanwhile potentially from the perspective of that culture, it’s an intrusion on ‘their’ medium. And of course, this promise quickly decays into tragedy and death. The energy of the sequence isn’t just for its own sake—it sets up a contrast. But on a second, meta level it establishes the movie’s complicated relationship to media and storytelling. Newsreels, photos, myths, histories, police interviews, and a radio play all occur over the course of the movie. And there’s the movie Killers of the Flower Moon itself. Other people’s frames are contrasted with Mollie’s narration. There’s a repeated tension between communication as a method of knowing others and a method of controlling them—or the narrative of them—which plays out in both history and personal relationships.)

Or here’s another example: When Mollie and Ernest meet and he drives her home for the first time, we see their conversation via the car’s rearview mirrors. This is a bit of cinematic language that has its origins in mystery and paranoia. You see it in things like Hitchcock or The X-Files or film noir. By framing the scene with this convention, the movie turns what is superficially a romantic meet-cute (to quote a friend) into something bubbling with uneasiness and dread. This is not nostalgia—this is just using visuals to create effects. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen anything that uses the convention before, although knowing the pedigree might add to your enjoyment. The watchfulness suggested by the mirrors and Ernest’s cut-off face will still add an ominous effect. It works for the same reason it works in those other things. Like the newsreel, it is a specific and concise stylistic choice, and it results in a scene that is doing more than just one thing.

In general, the common thread I noticed as I watched these nominees, was the tendency to have the ‘idea’ of theme or style, and then stop there. It’s not that the movies had nothing in them. There were ideas, there was use of the medium, there was meaning to extract. There were lots of individually good moments. But they tended to feel singular, or repetitive, or tacked on. Meanwhile contemporary viewers are apparently so impressed by the mere existence of theme or style, that being able to identify it in a movie is enough to convince many that the movie is also good at those things. The problem with this tendency—in both artists and audiences—is that theme and style are not actually some extra, remarkable, inherently rarifying property of art. Theme emerges naturally from a story with any kind of coherence or perspective. And style emerges naturally from any kind of artistic attitude. They are as native as script, or narrative, or character. A movie’s theme and style might not be interesting, just like its story or dialogue might not be interesting, but if the movie is at all decent, they should exist. What makes a movie good or bad, then, is how it executes its component parts—including theme and style—in service of the whole. When theme is well-executed it is well-developed. Contemporary movies, unfortunately, seem to have confused ‘well-developed’ with ‘screamingly obvious.’ A theme does not become well-developed by repetition. It becomes well-developed by iterationand integration. Theme is like a melody. Simply repeating a single melody over and over does not result in the song becoming more interesting or entertaining. It becomes tedious. However, if you modify the melody each time you play it, or diverge from the melody and then return to it, that can get exciting. It results in different angles on the same idea, such that the idea becomes more complex over time, instead of simply louder.

Oppenheimer wasprobably the worst offender in this regard. Just repeat your water drops, crescendoing noise, or a line about ‘destroying the world’, and that’s the same as nuance, right? Split scenes into color and black and white and that’s the same as structure, right? That’s the same as actually conveying a difference between objectivity and interiority (or another dichotomy) via the drama or visual composition contained in the scenes, right? When I watched many of these movies, I kept thinking of a behind-the-scenes story from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The story goes that Joss Whedon was directing Sarah Michelle Gellar in some scene, and when the take was over he told her how great she was, and that he could see right where the music would come in. And Gellar replied that if he was thinking about the music, he clearly wasn’t getting enough from her acting alone. This conversation then supposedly informed Whedon’s approach to “The Body,” a depiction of the immediate aftermath of death that is considered one of the best episodes of television ever made, and which has no non-diegetic music whatsoever. Not to imply that music is necessarily a crutch, or to pretend that “The Body” is lacking in other forms of stylization (it is a very style-ish episode). But more to illustrate the way that it is easy to forget to make the most of all aspects of a medium, particularly the most fundamental ones, once one has gotten used to what a final product is supposed to feel like.

And that’s why most of these movies don’t feel like movies. They create the gestalt of a movie or a ‘cinematic’ moment—often literally through direct vintage imitation—without a sense of the first principles. Or demonstrating a sense of them, anyway. Who needs AI when the supposedly highest level of human filmmakers are already cannibalistically cargo-culting the medium just fine.

[1] “The Sound of Money (The Sound of Music and The Singing Nun).” The Pauline Kael Reader. (This book contains the full text of the original review, rather than the abbreviated review that I linked earlier.)

#posts: art #movies #am rusty at blogging and don't have all the virtuous nuance i would like in this but we will go with it

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stayevildarling · 3 months ago

Note

Hi. I saw you are running low on inspiration for some Delia, Mina, & Billie fics. I was shifting through and found some fun prompts that could be fun to use with them!

“Where are you? Tell me where you are.”

“You left me alone.”

“Don’t cry please.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re bleeding.”

“Don’t yell at me!”

“What did you do?”

No pressure whatsoever, inspiration comes naturally so it’s okay if you don’t have it currently. I have been loving the Marvel fics too but I do miss our girls Delia, Mina, and Billie! Thankkk youu. Take care!

Cordelia Goode x Billie Dean Howard x Wilhemina Venable x Reader - Basement Blues

A/N: Thank you very much for sending these prompts. I got a request that instantly reminded me of this and so I combined it🫶🏼.

initial request:

Hiii as per usual I’m watching a horror movie and I was wondering .. could you write a fiction where r decides to join Billie during the inspection of a presumed ‘haunted house’ and her coworkers, while Billie is checking upstairs, pull a prank on r deciding to leave her behind in the basement. Little did they know that a ghost lurked there, anything but kind, leaving r absolutely terrified. Maybe she hurt herself trying to push the door open. When Billie finds out what happened, she is both outraged and deeply sorry for r, who won’t speak but only cry and shake in fear. It could be a hurt comfort fic w multiple characters too, I was thinking Cordelia and Mina maybe? (You choose) When Billie comes back home with r, Mina and Delia will surely ask her questions, noticing r’s state. The three of them trying to pick up the pieces. Thanksss <<3

tw: mention of ghosts, mention of haunted house, mention of cursing, mention of smoking, mention of blood

word count: 6k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay , @whitelotus00 , @ninaahs , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometime , @wastdtime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @stepintomyworld

The academy had been quiet today, the soft sound of rainfall shuddering against the windows overlooking the gardens and greenhouse of the coven, your home. As your partners go on about their usual days, Billie Dean filming her show- getting ready to film the last bits for her newest season, Cordelia working in the academy, guiding a group of witches in improving their magical abilities and Wilhemina equally at work, you find yourself feeling a little bored.

Now it certainly didn't happen often, as you had a career of your own, but unfortunately you are off from work for a week, which usually you would enjoy, if it meant their schedules lined up with your own. However, as it was a little short notice, neither of them could take any time off, leaving you almost like a lost puppy wandering the academy. Often you had wished you could also be a witch, get taught by Cordelia and spend your afternoons or days off working on spells, witchcraft and potions. But you couldn't and so the only thing you had been doing today was some reading, getting started on some dinner preparations and checking in on the supreme from time to time. Despite not being a student at the academy, you wanted to make yourself useful and so you had spent your morning in the greenhouse, tidying up the potion shelves, organising the various ingredients and labelling some jars. Afterwards, you watered the plants, ensuring they receive the proper care, despite the supreme caring and tending to them regularly but you knew she had been busy lately.

However, as the day goes on, you find yourself growing increasingly bored, sighing to yourself, you lean on the kitchen counter, overlooking the gardens and how it was by now pouring down with rain, the sky filled with dark clouds and making the aura almost a little gloomy. Your thoughts are interrupted when the sound of the front door opening and closing startles you a little, causing you to instantly turn around, your features beaming. A small smirk makes it's way onto your features, as you watch your girlfriend Billie Dean walk inside, abandoning her umbrella nearby before kicking off her heels. Almost with graze, she abandons her handbag and blazer in the hallway before sighing heavily at the rain and knowing she would need an extensive hair care routine tonight, as otherwise she would be overwhelmed with her hair going frizzy and wavy. You peek your head around the doorframe, watching her in quiet adoration and giggling a little at her antics.

,,Hi'' you beam a little, your genuine smile instantly lighting up the room as you didn't expect the medium to be home just yet. ,,Hi babydoll'' she greets you warmly, her features equally lighting up before opening her arms. ,,Come here'' she offers and you comply, letting her steady arms wrap around you as you nuzzle yourself further into her neck, taking in her scent of expensive Chanel perfume and vanilla. ,,How's my baby girl?'' she asks gently before you mutter out a quiet ,,I'm k Billie, how about you?''. As the two of you pull away, you follow her into the kitchen where she takes a seat, lighting a cigarette before filling you in about her day. ,,How was filming?'' you ask excitedly as you watch her light the cigarette with again such grace. ,,It was good darling, we have one more house to film at tomorrow and then we should be mostly done'' she announces, brushing her fingertips through her slightly soaked curls.

,,Where are you filming tomorrow then?'' you ask curiously before she fills you in a little further, the two of you getting lost a little in conversation and Billie filling you in on all the details about her day. She watches curiously as you listen intently to her every word and as she abandons her cigarette in a nearby ashtray, before turning the coffee machine on, she can't help but notice how spotless the place is, not just the kitchen but the academy as a whole. ,,What did you get up to today darling? other than cleaning?'' she chuckles, knowing you to be a bit of a neat freak. When your gaze averts hers, the blonde can tell that something was on your mind, in fact she had noticed it as soon as she greeted you as you normally aren't that clingy or cuddly straight away. Her features tense a little as she tilts her head to the side to get a look at you ,,What's the matter?'' she asks, her tone soft but a little stern at the same time. ,,Nothing Billie'' you assure, quickly smiling at her to make the statement more believable.

Her eyebrows furrow as she sits back down again, her gentle hand finding yours on the table and holding it in place. ,,What is it?'' she tries again, her eyes piercing right through you as you meet her brown ones. Sighing heavily you avert her gaze again before speaking ,,I've just been bored today, I have done everything that I could think of but I always feel a little useless when I'm not working or when I'm not around either of you'' you admit. The statement causes for her to frown a little before she begins thinking ,,You're off for the rest of the week right?'' she asks, causing you to nod at her question. ,,I'm sorry darling but I promise I'll take you somewhere nice this weekend hm?'' she tries, causing you to simply nod sadly, excited at her offer but knowing you would still have to wait a whole week for that to happen. Billie watches as an idea quite literally ripples through you, causing your eyebrows to shoot upwards, a smirk on your features ,,What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?'' she smirks before you fill her in ,,Can I pwease go to work with you tomorrow?'' you ask excitedly, your features beaming once again.

The medium scratches her head before beginning to play with her rings, thinking about it for a moment. You had often asked Billie as you are a big fan of her show and she had taken you for some promo bits a few times. Her crew loved you anyway as you always made yourself useful and got everyone coffee so she simply smiles at you before nodding. ,,Sure babydoll, I'd love to take you'' she reassures before you beam a little, kicking your feet up and down in excitement and she chuckles then at your adorableness, before pressing a kiss to the hand that she is still holding. Glancing at the time, you notice you should carry on finishing dinner preparations and so you do just that, walking back over the fridge and setting the ingredients down. You smile warmly as you feel Billie's arms wrap around you from behind, her chin resting on your shoulder ,,What are we having tonight babydoll?'' she whispers. ,,Tacos'' you announce before she presses a kiss to your cheek. ,,Oh, you truly are an angel'' she smiles before walking away, swaying her hips a little more than necessary. ,,I'll just be in the shower darling'' she announces before leaving you.

A while later, you finish setting the table and continue to prepare dinner, chopping some vegetables, overlooking the gardens once more, noticing how the atmosphere seemed a little lighter, even a rainbow in the distance somewhere before you see a presence lingering by the doorway from the corner of your eyes. ,,Hi Delia'' you greet her as she watches you in quiet adoration. ,,Hello sweetheart'' she smiles warmly before taking slow and gentle steps towards you ,,Guess what?'' you beam a little and doing some type of excited dance that she can't help but giggle at. ,,What darling?'' she asks, her heart fluttering at seeing you so happy. ,,I'm going to work with Billie tomorrow'' you announce proudly, almost a little smug. ,,You're what?'' she asks, acting as if she didn't hear you properly, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. ,,I-am-going-to-work-with-Billie-tomorrow-'' you slow down the words in a joking manner causing her to smirk a little.

,,Oh yeah? who says that sweetheart?'' she asks, the concern already laced on her beautiful features. ,,Me'' Billie Dean announces as she walks in, towel wrapped around her head from just finishing in the shower. The medium presses a kiss to your cheek before stealing a vegetable from the chopping board and putting it in her mouth ,,And why is that?'' Cordelia asks, her eyebrows still raised as she tries to keep her worry hidden and at bay. ,,She told me she's bored and I would love to take her'' the medium shrugs before leaning agains the kitchen island. ,,I'm not sure that's a good idea'' Cordelia protests, remembering the dangers that Billie's career brought, often finding the medium shivering and shaking at night after an especially rough few episodes. ,,Why not? I'll look after her'' the medium announces, giving you a little wink before speaking again ,,Besides, you have been here all day'' she argues causing for Cordelia's eyebrows to raise again.

,,Yes teaching witches all day'' Cordelia argues back, you watching the scene unfold quietly, knowing it's still light and mostly a joke. ,,Come on Dee, it's not like she's going to work with Wilhemina'' Billie jokes, before walking away to light a cigarette. ,,Who's not going to work with me?'' the redheads voice rings through the quiet kitchen as she returned moments ago. You beam a little seeing your Mina, having missed her today ,,Darling Billie here has decided to take Y/N to work tomorrow'' Cordelia announces, her eyes pleading with the redhead hoping she was going to agree with the supreme and share her concern. Wilhemina watches Billie's devilish grin before retreating for a smoke, your puppy eyes as if asking for permission, despite not needing it and Cordelia's eyes piercing through the redhead. Wilhemina remains quiet, not necessarily liking the idea of you being near ghosts and spirits but trusting Billie and her white light spirit that she talks about daily enough to let you go, knowing you must have been bored and feeling bad that she didn't manage to take any time off to spend with you this week.

As you serve the food, Billie returns before Wilhemina's eyes pierce through the medium ,,You better look after her Howard'' she warns before the blonde chuckles ,,Always''. Cordelia watches, her eyes meeting Wilhemina's surprised that she agreed before reminding herself that you are an adult after all and can make your own decisions. The tense atmosphere is quickly replaced by a comfortable one as the four of you talk about your days over dinner, the three of them thanking and praising you for you cooking and you making fun of Billie for almost dropping the entire content of her tacos on the table while trying to take a bite. The remainder of the evening is spent in the comfortable embrace of each other, the almost all too familiar image of Wilhemina sitting in her armchair by the fireplace knitting, Billie and you snuggled in Cordelia's arms on the sofa while watching some of her show.

The next day begins with a gentle warmth filtering through the windows of the academy. As the first light of morning creeps in, Wilhemina's alarm clock ripples through the quiet air, causing her and Cordelia to stir from their slumber, arms and legs still entangled in each other and their comforting embraces. Slowly, Billie Dean stirs as well, before opening her eyes, catching a glimpse of Wilhemina already on her way to the bathroom, Cordelia's eyes meeting hers. ,,Where's Y/N'' Billie asks confused, her voice still sounding hoarse from sleep. Cordelia glances towards the bathroom door, finding Wilhemina disappear inside, at first assuming you had been in there before her eyebrows furrow. The two of them briefly make their way downstairs, only to find you already having set the table for your girlfriends for breakfast, Wilhemina's lunchbox for work already prepared as you go on about your task while dancing along to a song playing in the background, swaying your hips as your excitement gets ahold of you.

,,Sweetheart?'' the supreme tries softly, however you are so lost in your buzzing mood that you can't hear her. Billie chuckles before walking over to you, startling you. ,,Morning babydoll'' she greets you with a chuckle and gentle kiss as your cheeks are coated in a slight red shade, not expecting them downstairs yet. Cordelia watches in quiet adoration, leaning against the doorframe and she can't help the fluttering of her heart or the genuine smile spreading across her features, seeing you this happy and content. It hadn't always been like this, the last two years having been anything but kind to you and she had often worried if you would move past it, make it to the other side but seeing you this genuinely happy, causes her both relief and joy. The supreme is startled when she hears the sound of Wilhemina's cane softly approach from behind, causing her to snap out of her thoughts and join the three of you for breakfast.

,,Alright I'm off, have fun little one'' the redhead speaks softly as she collects her things including the lunchbox you had made for her. ,,Thanks Mina'' you smile at her before she turns to the medium ,,Look after her'' she warns again before leaving, her cane echoing through the academy as she makes her way towards the driveway. The remainder of the morning you cannot await your departure with Billie, she made sure to make it special for you, helping you with the perfect outfit and even some makeup as she offered to maybe give you a little scene in her show after all if it wasn't too dangerous. After saying goodbye to the supreme, who's worried glance follows you until you are both out the door, Billie drives you to her usual coffee spot, picking up her pre work coffee and getting you a little something as well. ,,Thanks Billie'' you beam, loving when she spoiled you like this.

The ride to the location takes about half an hour and the two of you simply enjoy each other's company, the sound of the music quietly in the background. Billie truly was stunning and you have a hard time not stealing glances at her or to stare too much as she takes you inside to her crew, the mini skirt complementing her body in the perfect way. ,,Good morning Miss Howard'' her crew greets her and you watch in awe seeing her crew again and all the film equipment already prepared. ,,Morning everyone'' she greets with her usual cheerfulness until her colleagues take a look at you. ,,We've got a guest today?'' her assistant remarks excitedly and Billie nods, before introducing you to two male crew members that you hadn't met before, being familiar with the rest.

While they look over the last few details of this house's history and the spirit meant to be residing here and haunting the people living here, you inspect the camera equipment a little further, staying in the background as you didn't want to bother Billie or anyone. ,,Alright, start upstairs and then make our way down?'' her assistant suggests and Billie nods before checking herself in the mirror one last time, doing some sort of expression that you can't help but silently chuckle at in adoration. ,,I want you to stay down here with the crew babydoll k? I'll get you once I know it's not too dangerous and then I'll see if I find a little scene for you alright?'' she asks, bopping your nose with her finger and you nod and smile before she presses a kiss to your lips.

The house becomes quiet as they ascend the stairs, the only noises to be heard Billie as she takes the camera through the house, talking about the history of this home, what the owners had been going through and what they had researched about the spirit. Some of her crew members remain downstairs and you watch the two guys as they mutter something to themselves. There is some artwork on the walls and you inspect them a little closer as you see old family photos and you wonder who the people may be as the family living here was young and these photos looked a couple of centuries old. ,,Hey, your Y/N right?'' one of them asks and as you are awful with names you decide to call them ,,the blonde one'' and the ,,the ginger one'' in your head. ,,Yes I am'' you announce friendly, not particularly liking the company of men but wanting to be nice nevertheless considering they work for Billie.

,,We left some equipment down there, do you think you could fetch it for us while we do this?'' the ginger one asks and you nod as he gestures towards the computers where you see Billie inspecting upstairs and so far not having any luck as she works her magic in contacting the spirit. ,,Sure'' you shrug friendly, usually helping out her crew whenever you joined the medium the couple of times you had been to her office. ,,It's just a small laptop'' the blonde one says and opens the door for you. The entire basement is dark and as one of them turns the light on, a wooden staircase is exposed and you make your way down. As soon as you reach the bottom of the stairs and look around, the door suddenly bangs shut and you quickly go upstairs, still thinking this was an innocent mistake. When you hear both of them giggling and notice they had locked the door, you simply roll your eyes before muttering ,,Not very funny''.

In the end you sit on the stairs for a while, realising you have no service or connection to contact Billie. The door was thick and you assumed if you screamed she may not hear you and you simply will embarrass yourself more. In the end, you walk back down the stairs, checking out some more frames on the walls and countless storage boxes. It's when the light suddenly begins flickering and turning off altogether that your breath hitches a little. In a desperate attempt, you use your torch from your phone, despite it only providing a small source of light in the big basement. At first you assumed it was those same idiots that had locked you in here to begin with but you quickly realise it was more serious than that when countless of the boxes begin tumbling down the shelves, no presence of anyone visible.

,,Hello?'' you call out but instantly scold yourself as you had always mentioned how stupid it was to call out said word whenever watching a horror movie. Carefully, you walk around some of the boxes, shining your torch in the direction the noises came from when you see a shadow. It causes you to shriek a little before backing away. Now, due to the darkness you aren't sure but you could swear you had seen that face on one of the photos from earlier, a man assuming in his twenties with dark hair, dressed in some clothes that match the century vibes from the pictures. His expression looked angry, making you feel scared and uneasy. In a desperate attempt to flee the situation you begin screaming and banging against the door but you can't hear anything other than the giggling idiots on the other end.

,,This is my house, you have no business here'' a dark voice suddenly calls out before a torch comes flying your way, hitting the door and causing the glass to split everywhere, including your direction. ,,Please I just want to get out of here'' you plead, your rational side not able to believe that you are actually talking to a ghost and at the same time admiring how Billie could do this on a daily basis as this terrified you in a way nothing had ever scared you. It's when you hear heavy footsteps at the bottom of the staircase that you begin banging against the door, screaming for Billie and eventually using all of your strength to try and open the lock, hitting your shoulder and pushing all your weight against it in the hopes of opening the door.

,,Where is Y/N?'' Billie's voice calls out as she makes it downstairs again, seeing her two crew members but no sign of you. They both shrug and Billie is confused before looking around the house. ,,Y/N?'' she calls out before she hears you crying out her name. ,,Where are you? Tell me where you are'' she calls out in a desperate attempt, hearing your distress. She suddenly hears banging from the basement door and stares at the two idiots before rushing over, the camera still following her. The medium unlocks the door instantly, finding you shivering and shaking with fear as you practically fall into her arms, the spirit near seconds from you and she is quick to grab you, spin you both around so she faces the spirit before chanting some latin words and making him disappear.

,,What the hell happened?'' she asks as she takes your cheeks into her hands, tears continuing to stain them. ,,You left me alone'' you choke on a sob, feeling the fear still rippling through your body as you had never experienced something like this before. ,,Don't cry please'' she whispers as she holds you protectively. ,,Why were you in there?'' she asks confused before you meet her eyes and your guilty eyes meet the two idiots standing in the corner, their expression suddenly very serious. ,,Turn this shit off'' Billie curses as she stares at the camera, leaving you for a moment. ,,Are you serious?'' she screams, not being able to hold her composure. ,,Locking someone in a basement of a haunted house, congratulations, you didn't only scare her for dear life, the spirit is also gone'' she screams in frustration, her whole camera crew and assistant silent as they had never seen the medium like this before.

,,Get out of here, you are both fired'' she curses before turning to her assistant. ,,We are done here, I'll see you in the office on monday'' she announces and the woman simply nods as Billie reaches for her handbag. As you follow her, her assistant gives you a compassionate and sorry look. Billie takes your hand, guiding you towards her car before opening the door for you. She closes it gently before getting into the drivers seat, banging the door in frustration before lighting a cigarette. The two of you remain there for a little bit until Billie finishes, without a word she begins driving, the music still playing quietly in the background.

,,I'm so sorry'' she eventually whispers and as you turn towards her, you notice a tear running down her cheek and you are quick to catch it with your thumb. ,,It's okay Billie, it's not your fault'' you assure but the medium knows you are wrong. She should have looked after you, stayed with you and looked after you better. This is exactly what your other two girlfriends had been implying and that makes her feel even worse. ,,It is'' she mutters quietly and Billie was so lost in her daze that she never noticed your state, how pale you are, that your whole body is still shaking, the pain on your shoulder unbearable and your hands covered in blood from the glass and trying to open the door frantically. ,,I promise Billie it's okay, we can just forget about it'' you encourage her but she remains silent, struggling with the guilt of what had happened.

By the time you both make it home, you both notice Wilhemina's car in the driveway, unaware how long this whole thing actually took and how long you had been gone. Billie looks at your face, still so lost in her feelings that she doesn't notice your physical state. ,,We don't have to mention it promise'' you encourage and she simply nods as the two of you walk inside the academy. Now, the shock had momentarily made you forget about the pain and the state your body is in and so it's no surprise as the two of you walk inside, when both Wilhemina and Cordelia's face drop seeing your state. Cordelia's eyebrows furrow as they both walk over to you, Billie following behind.

,,Oh my gosh, you're bleeding'' Cordelia shrieks, quickly taking your bloody hands into her own, the blood staining her and some pieces of glass still stuck in your hands. Wilhemina takes one look at your painful face, quickly noticing the signs of shock as your knees and hands are shaking. You remain silent before looking into Cordelia's eyes, trying your hardest to force a smile. ,,I'm fine I promise'' you reassure but they are having none of it. ,,I just fell that's all'' you try to lie, not wanting to have Billie getting the blame but again they can see right through you. ,,Sit down'' Cordelia orders as she takes you in the kitchen, Wilhemina and Billie following, as the medium leans against a counter, lighting a cigarette in frustration.

,,What the hell did you do?'' Wilhemina's yelling ripples through the air, causing you to shake in Cordelia's arms as she checks and begins treating your injuries with her magic. Billie pretends that the raising of her girlfriends voice doesn't affect her, simply shrugging as she takes another long drag. ,,Don't yell at me'' she warns, not in the mood for Wilhemina's usual antics and anger. ,,You need to tell me what happened Howard because when Y/N left this morning she was the happiest and now she is shaking, bleeding and it looks like she is going to pass out'' the redhead warns, controlling her voice after seeing Cordelia's warning expression.

,,It wasn't Billie's fault'' you somehow mutter out, fighting through the pain of your shoulder injury. All three heads snap towards you and you begin speaking again ,,Her coworkers played a dumb prank but Billie fired them as soon as she found out, it really wasn't Billie's fault'' you defend her and Billie's heart swells with pride, her eyes filling with tears as she knows she deserved every bit of this but appreciating nevertheless that you are trying to defend her. ,,What sort of prank sweetheart?'' Cordelia asks seriously before you glance at Billie and fill them in. ,,They asked me to get something from the basement and then locked me in there'' you admit and Wilhemina scoffs at hearing your statement.

,,But then where did this come from?'' Cordelia asks confused as she points out the cuts on your hand and the leftover glass she had pulled from it. ,,There was a spirit but Billie didn't know and got rid of it'' you admit And Wilhemina can't help but lose her temper again. ,,Really you left her alone? with a fucking spirit in the basement?'' Billie is in no state to deal with this and so all she does is collect her cigarettes before placing her hand on your shoulder in a comforting manner before walking past you. ,,I'm sorry babydoll'' she apologies again before disappearing outside, needing some air.

Wilhemina can't help but notice your flinching and pained expression when Billie had touched your shoulder and she tilts her head to the side a little before stepping closer to you. ,,Are you in pain little one?'' she asks and you shake your head but when your two girlfriends glance at each other, they know you are still trying to downplay the situation. ,,If you are in pain, you need to tell us sweetie'' Cordelia encourages and you hesitantly fill them in. ,,I tried to break the door open'' you admit and they both look at you seriously before Cordelia points towards your shoulder. You nod in confirmation and with gentle hands, she lifts your sleeve down, exposing your beaten and bruised shoulder. ,,God'' Wilhemina mutters, seeing the state you are in and feeling like she wants to kill those idiots that did this.

,,That spirit should be grateful it's dead because otherwise'' Wilhemina mutters and you can't help but break out in laughter, startling the two of them. ,,Sorry'' you mumble and Wilhemina smirks ever so slightly, Cordelia happy to at least see you smiling again. As she inspects your shoulder a little closer, she realises the extend of your injury and glances at Wilhemina who knows exactly what this means. ,,Sweetheart, your bone seems injured, I can fix it but magic like this can be tricky'' she explains and you listen intently to her words. ,,Can't you just fix it?'' you ask and she bites her lip before sighing. ,,I can but the way this magic works is the bone will heal itself, it's very quick I promise but can be very painful'' the supreme explains and you glance at Wilhemina who looks at you with so much concern.

While Cordelia prepares herself for the spell, Wilhemina passes you some water and encourages you to drink the whole thing. ,,Ready?'' the supreme asks and Wilhemina reaches her hand out to you which you take. ,,Ready'' you mumble, feeling a little nervous before her hand hovers over your shoulder before she begins chanting some latin words. At first the pain feels tingling, the initial pain even leaving before the excruciating pain ripples through your body. Your eyes begin swelling up and you can't help but let out the most painful scream, that causes both their hearts to ache. ,,Done'' Cordelia whispers, her own eyes filled with tears at knowing how much that must have hurt. ,,I'm so sorry sweetie'' she whispers as she cups your cheeks. Your eyes remain closed but as you open them again, you notice the absence of any pain, her magic working wonders as if none of this ever happened in the first place.

,,Better?'' Wilhemina asks, her expression almost unreadable and you nod before Billie comes rushing inside. ,,What happened?'' she asks, hearing your scream from outside and never having heard you like this before. ,,Cordelia fixed the bone that broke'' Wilhemina mutters without the slightest bit of emotion in her voice, Billie's eyes widening in realisation. ,,Sweetie are you okay? you look awfully pale'' Cordelia acknowledges as the colour quite literally drained from your face. ,,Yes.. I think I'm going to have a shower'' you say before standing up, not wanting to be anywhere around for the confrontation that was about to unfold between your girlfriends. They all watch as you walk away, their worried eyes following you and Cordelia can sense with her magic that a wave of dizziness was going to wash over you any moment. With quick steps she aids to your side as you hold onto the nearest wall. ,,It's okay, I'll help you darling'' she offers and she takes your hand, gently guiding you upstairs, knowing what this type of magic and the shock from before can have an impact on your body.

Cordelia‘s movements are gentle as she helps you upstairs, sitting you down on the bed before retrieving some clothes for you. She knows about your desire to shower after today but she also knows your body is in no condition to do so after the shock and her magic. She washes your face for you, gently dresses you in some pj‘s before tugging you into bed. As she watches you get comfortable, she feels conflicted, knowing you both needed her and the desire of not leaving you alone but she also knew her other two lovers needed her in order for the argument that was bound to happen not to escalate. „It really wasn‘t Billie‘s fault Delia“ you mumble, already feeling the tiredness from the day wash over you. „I know sweet girl“ she smiles before walking over and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

„It‘s okay you can go“ you mumble, being able to tell how conflicted the blonde is feeling. And it almost brings tears to her eyes how well you know them, how kind and considerate you are. Now before the witch gets the chance to leave, the door opens and both of your heads snap in the direction, surprised when you see both of your girlfriends walking in together. You can tell by their expressions that Billie still feels guilty, that Wilhemina still feels angry but it‘s the way they walk in together, side by side, no distance between them that you and Cordelia can tell they had settled this among themselves. Billie remains silent, walking over to you as Cordelia checks in with Wilhemina, the redhead nodding as if to signal that all is well. „I‘m so sorry my sweet girl“ she apologizes again and knowing Billie you knew she would be sorry for a lifetime. „It‘s okay really Bills“ you encourage and she smiles contently before pressing a kiss to your cheeks.

„Now babydoll, me and Mina had a talk, considering the day you‘ve had, how about we order your favorite? you can have a little rest until it gets here and then we‘ll watch your favorite movie?“ your eyes sparkle at her statement and you glance at both Delia and Wilhemina who simply smile and encourage you to agree. „Yes please“ you beam, before sitting up excitedly, the tiredness suddenly gone. And so, the four of you find yourself in front of the TV a little while later, your favorite takeaway in your lap and your favorite movie playing in the background. You could tell there was maybe a conversation to come but by Wilhemina and Billie‘s causal bickering and joking you could tell everything was back to normal. After finishing your meal, Cordelia begins the dishes as Billie steals away for a smoke and you finally find yourself in the arms of your redhead lover.

„I‘m glad you‘re okay little one“ she whispers as her fingers trace patterns on your back. You smile as you nuzzle into her further, seeking her warmth and she wraps you closer, being able to tell. „Sooo“ you begin and by your tone of voice she can tell whatever you are about to say will make her smirk in that all too familiar way. „Does this mean I can come to work with you next?“ you smile cheekily and she simply raises an eyebrow before chuckling lowly. „Definitely not little one, if you think Howard‘s work is dangerous, you definitely don‘t want to meet my bosses“ and the two of you chuckle, Cordelia smiling from the kitchen having heard the interaction before melting into your girlfriend further.

#sarah paulson #cordelia goode #wilhemina venable #ahs #asks #american horror story #billie dean howard #sarah paulson x reader #cordelia goode x reader #anon #billie dean howard x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #ahs coven #ahs murder house #ahs apocalypse

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ordinaryschmuck · 11 months ago

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What I Quickly Thought about What If...? Season Two

For those who don’t know, I’m one of the few people who actually enjoyed What If…? Season One for what it was. Did it take advantage of telling interesting tales with the MCU, giving us intense glimpses of these universes that showed us what COULD HAVE been? Not all the time. Was it still good dumb fun? To me it was. And that’s pretty much what What If…?, as a concept, was, even in the comics. Yeah, you got interesting stuff like “What if Spider-Man never became a crime fighter?” or “What if Daredevil was raised by The Kingpin?” but it also had stuff like “What if the Original Marvel Bullpen Became the Fantastic Four?” or “What if Sargent Fury Fought World War Two in Outer Space?” The comics were less about high-concepts and more about writers doing whatever the hell they wanted with the Marvel Universe and being able to have fun with it because, well, none of it was canon. The same applied to the MCU’s What If…?, as it was a chance for the writers to do a murder mystery with the Avengers or make T’Challa fix the universe as Star-Lord. They can kill characters, make dumb(er) jokes, and play around with the heroes and villains in the MCU like they were action figures. And I’m into that. Don’t get me wrong, I would love more episodes like “What if…Doctor Strange lost his heart instead of his hands?” or “What if…Ultron won?” as they DO have a lot of great moments and show off what these characters are capable of than what the movies/shows proved. But at the same time, I didn’t mind watching the big buff lady that is Captain Carter kill Nazis or watch Spider-Man and a band of heroes try to survive a zombie apocalypse. It’s a show where everyone is meant to just sit back, turn their brain off, and have some fun while occasionally getting something interesting. Again, just like the comics.

So when Season Two got announced, I was genuinely excited. I like Season One and I wanted more of it. Then when the trailer came out with an episode list, I thought, “Okay, this could be the show embracing comic book wackiness.” Now, not a lot of people were into that…In fact, the majority said that a lot of these concepts weren’t even interesting and were, instead, kind of lame. I don’t get it, maybe because I’m in the exact mindset the MCU wants me to have with this series, but I was still looking forward to Season Two. The question is, was it worth it? Well, let’s quickly go over each episode to find out.

Spoilers Ahead

What If…Nebula Joined the Nova Corps?: Ooooooooh, what a great start. Watching Nebula act as a cop/detective, but with her cold, deadpan badassery still intact was a ton of fun in this dark, gritty setting made for this new version of her. I loved watching this new version of Nebula make her way through a darkened Xandar, with her never straying from this oath and acting as it should be intended, all while teaming up with Howard the Duck of all characters. Like, I kind of enjoy seeing Howard turn out to be this sleazy casino owner who treats Nebula as a true friend despite them working on opposite ends of the law. The concept itself is funny and execution is endearing with Seth Green giving much needed charm to the character. It’s part of the fun of What If…?: Showing characters who couldn’t interact in the movies or didn’t have much screen time and allowing them another chance to shine…Unfortunately, that’s not always a good thing. Because while I love seeing a character like Howard make a surprisingly good comeback, watching Yon-Rog, one of the more boring MCU villains, show up and lack any intrigue or fun is just…no. And then there’s Nova Prime who decided to betray the entire Corp by taking down the force field…Something that was HER idea to do and, given the pull she had, could have done at any point. Why string Nebula along when Nova Prime could have just made the ruling herself that the force field needed to be taken down? A friend of mine tried explaining how it could make sense, but I don’t know. It doesn’t change this weird got while watching. But while flawed, it was pretty cool to see this new setting in the MCU, carried by Nebula as the Super Nova (Love that name, by the way. It’s perfect). The plot has a big ol’ hole, not every character return works, but it gave me a half-hour of fun so I’m not complaining (Get used to that thought process, by the way).

What If…Peter Quill Attacked Earth’s Mightiest Heroes?: And this one’s a little rough around the edges. It’s fun to see this alternate version of the Avengers form to fight a Peter Quill who has Ego’s powers, but it feels like the entire episode is on fast-forward, almost like this is what would happen if the first Avengers movie needed to be made thirty-minutes long. It’s sort of the downside of What If having a half-hour runtime, where it has to both tell a story and introduce us to this new universe in under thirty minutes. It’s the same with the comics that had less than thirty pages to do the exact same thing, only to feel longer because comic writers in the seventies and eighties don’t know how to shut the hell up. The end result is a story that’s fine ENOUGH, but it would have benefited with more time to slow down and let us appreciate this new team of old heroes. I mean, we have the original Captain Mar-Vel, T’Challa’s father, and even Goliath, which would have been AWESOME to see them play a big role. But instead, the episode focuses on Hank Pym, Bucky, and THOR, somehow, making these other heroes valued members but also a bit of an afterthought. Also, despite this being a different version of the Avengers, they somehow make MORE quips than the original team, with few of it feeling like it’s in character. It has the same problem as Age of Ultron where everyone is cracking jokes at every second as much as they can, and it HIGHLY depends on your willingness to stomach that kind of thing if you’re willing to watch this episode. That and if you’re willing to forgive a character doing this STUPID AND RISKY thing that worked out for the better but doesn’t change how stupid and risky it is. Overall, this whole episode is a very interesting idea mixed with some very FLAWED execution that spoils the fun to be had.

What If…Happy Hogan Saved Christmas?: Now this? All kinds of fun to be had with this one. The return of Justin Hammer of all villains isn’t something I thought I needed, but I heavily enjoyed watching what’s basically the anti-Tony Stark show up and be his most despicably charming self. It was a blast to watch this scrawny little twink TRY and act intimidating as he dances all over the place. It makes him feel more and more like a cartoon villain, which is appropriate for yuletide fun. You don’t NEED a menacing presence for Christmas, you need a GOOF. And Hammer’s the goofiest with his lame catchphrases and very STUPID dancing, I couldn’t get enough of it. But the real star is Happy, who gets juiced up for an adaptation I NEVER would have expected from the MCU. The Freak is one of the sides to Happy that not many fans would know about unless they’ve immersed themselves with Iron Man lore (Or read a shit load of comics for the past two years like me), but it really is cool to see that side of him brought to life. The way Happy looks and moves like more of a manic Hulk on crack does great at setting him apart from the Jolly Green Monster we know and love, but also makes The Freak feel more unique from how he was in the comics. It was a blast of a holiday special with the only downside is that Darcy’s OCCASIONALLY annoying. Not much other than that, though, as this is the best Christmas present I could ask from Marvel.

What If…Iron Man Crashed Into the Grandmaster?: Fun fact, this was originally meant to be in Season One but was cut due to time constraints. Yeah, remember how weird it was that the Watcher plucked a version of Gamora we didn’t know? Well, now we finally know…through a story that’s primarily about Tony Stark that makes me wonder why the hell The Watcher didn’t take him.

But facts and jokes aside, I loved the shit out of this episode. There are probably going to be some cynics out there saying that the cars and the race is an excuse to sell toys or LEGO sets or some shit, but I don’t care because everything about it was AWESOME!. Not to mention that it lit up a special place in my heart and brain to watch Tony Stark be a hero again, not hesitating to save lives, putting everything on the line, and helping bring Gamora into the light, all while still being his snarky, Starky self. And huge props to Mick Wingert voicing him, who doesn’t sound like Robert Downy Jr at ALL, but still nails the energy and mannerisms. I can picture RDJ saying all of these lines and it helps make this feel like one last Iron Man story for the fans. Seeing the Grandmaster again was ALSO a plus, as he was his same goofy-self. As for the real hook of this episode, Gamora, she’s…fine. I don’t love that it’s Tony that helped her redemption arc since I always preferred how turning against Thanos was something Gamora decided for herself instead of this thing that someone brought out. It’s not a BAD idea, but it’s something that might have worked better with NEBULA, a character that could actually USE convincing, instead of Gamora, a character who would likely go to Stark to help kill Thanos. Still, I don’t HATE it, nor do I hate the episode. It was an adrenaline thrill-ride that gave us a return of Tony where he DOESN’T die in the end. I couldn’t have asked for more if I heard this episode’s title, and I’m glad it’s what we’ve got.

What If…Captain Carter Fought the Hydra Stomper?: I…KIND OF understand the reception towards Captain Carter. I don’t get why Marvel keeps pushing her more than their actual Captain America replacement, Sam Wilson. I mean, Captain Carter showed up in three projects (two seasons of television and a movie), where Sam made his official appearance as Captain America once…and hasn’t even cameoed in any other movie or show. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like the big buff lady and it’s awesome seeing her fight the giant robot. It’s cool, I love it. I also heavily enjoyed this episode, getting into the drama, action, and seeing Peggy make a surprisingly believable friendship with Black Widow. Heck, I’d go so far as to say that this is a better Black Widow story than her actual movie gave us. So I like it, I like seeing Captain Carter and some of her adventures. I especially like that this story isn’t a direct rehash of Winter Soldier like how the first episode is a rehash of First Avenger. The writers actually set out to make something more unique and it makes me like Captain Carter a little more. I just wish we could get that same love and appreciation towards Sam Wilson, whose movie got pushed back to 2025 and will count as the only time this character has been relevant since his mini-series. If this is our new leader of the Avengers and the man who will fight to save the multiverse, we’re probably going to need more than one appearance from the guy. I don’t think people would complain about more Captain Carter if Sam Wilson’s Captain America wasn’t so blatantly shoved too far to the side.

What If…Kahhori Reshaped the World?: One of the few rare times the MCU made an ORIGINAL superhero. There is no previous comic, movie, or show that Kahhori is based on. She’s a completely original character made up for this franchise, much like Miles Morales in the Ultimate universe or X-23 in X-Men Evolution (Check that show out, by the way. It’s pretty damn good). And just like those two, I REALLY hope Kahhori manages to become such a hit with audiences that she spawns more content, because Kahhori and her world is something I would love to revisit. Her personality is fun, her motivation is inspiring, and her powers are unique enough to make her stand out more to the other heroes in the MCU. As for her story, it’s your bare-bones origin story. The whole episode is about explaining her powers, the world she lives in, and the people she loves and fights for. It does all this while proving her heroics through fighting a supervillain set out to do some damage. Only, instead of some generic supervillain that matches her powers it’s this Spanish Conquistador who…honestly still looks like a supervillain, which is kind of funny. And it works for Kahhori, proving that while she’s currently the most powerful person in the world, she’s willing to fight against oppression and the monarchy, advocating for peace instead of a continuous war for who gains the most control. Like I said, that’s inspiring and it’s why I want to see more of this character and how far she can go when fighting bigger, more evil threats than the Queen of Spain. Whether it’s a spin-off TV show/movie, a comic mini-series, or even introducing Kahhori into the 616 comics (somehow), I wouldn’t mind seeing this new, wonderful hero more in the future.

What If…Hela Found the Ten Rings?: I…did not expect to like this one as much as I did. I wasn’t the BIGGEST fan of Hela, because aside from seeing her actress having a blast to go full ham, there wasn’t much to her. Yeah, she was this conqueror alongside Odin, which is an interesting backstory for HIM, but for Hela, it’s not enough. Instead of telling me WHO she is, Thor: Ragnarok kept telling me WHAT she was. Then here comes an episode of What If…? that not only gives me that answer, but a lot more. Sure, the first half is a bit wonky, but when we get to the second, we finally get an idea of who Hela is. Simply put, Hela doesn’t know who she is beyond a conqueror, and that’s because Odin never trained nor raised her to be anything more. This episode forces Hela to face that and discover answers she never knew she was seeking, having a surprisingly decent redemption, becoming a goddess of life instead of death. I…love that. I love that WAY MORE than I could have expected to love it. It makes me appreciate Hela a lot more and maybe see that there’s a tragedy to her in Thor: Ragnarok. Hela could have changed for the better if she met someone that could bring her good side out, but because she was banished into isolation by Odin, it caused Hela to be both spiteful and vengeful, making her refuse any alternative beyond being a conqueror or a goddess of death, with her final acts of life being someone who destroyed her home because destruction was all she knew. This episode has a better, more unique story to tell than Hela and Wenwu fighting over the Ten Rings to see who can cause more destruction. Speaking of, if there’s one thing to complain about the episode, it’s how underutilized Wenwu is to the story. He’s actually one of MY favorite MCU villains and it feels weird that he’s just…kind of there? Most of the meat to the story goes to Hela, and I do appreciate it, but Wenwu could have done more than wanting to bone Hela or assisting her in fighting Odin. But aside from that, I’d still say that this is a fantastic episode that surpassed my expectations.

What If…The Avengers Assembled in 1602?: Of all the episodes, this is the one I was looking forward to the most. I’m a sucker for seeing characters in a different setting. They’re very much the same in terms of personality but their differences vary from positions in life or the skills they’re capable of. It’s no different here, as so much of this feels like a period piece fanfic where the writers seemed to have so much fun making the Avengers be in 1602. And I don’t give a shit if people hate her, I LOVE that Captain Carter refuses to leave this world until she saves it from complete collapse. It would have been the same if it was Steve Rogers, I get that, but how do you expect me to hate a hero who’s willing to fight with her last breath to save the world? Those are my favorite kind of superheroes! You want me to give up what I love most about superheroes just because you don’t like that the big buff lady fights King Thor and his vibranium thunder sword? F**k you.

Also, this comes with the added benefit of watching big buff Steve and big buff Peggy constantly being on the VERGE of wanting to rip their clothes off and f**k each other whenever they’re on screen together. And, honestly, I can't blame them. They’re both gorgeous. LET THEM F**K!

Overall, I had fun, even if there are problems. Sure, the reveal that Steve is indirectly the cause of this universe’s collapse is way too predictable, no thanks in large part to the trailers SPOILING IT! And it’s pretty weird that Scott can still shrink and grow. Like…How can he do that in this setting? Also, this universe has a merry band of misfits that’s similar to Robin Hood, and there’s not even a SINGLE Hawkeye in it? Not even Kate Bishop? COME ON NOW! Come on now…

But, yeah, this episode is the perfect epitome of what makes What If…? enjoyable to me. It can offer you a fun concept of having the Avengers be in 1602 and just ask you to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. Not everyone’s going to be into that, but I am and I could take ten more seasons of this if I could.

What If…Strange Supreme Intervened?: You want me to hate the big buff lady and new MCU character Kahhori fighting Strange Supreme and a whole gaggle of universe killers just because *checks notes* Captain Carter is a Mary Sue? F**k you. I don’t care if you feel like Captain Carter is forced upon you, she punched a demonic Doctor Strange in the face with the power of INFINITY. That is awesome no matter WHO the character is and if you can’t appreciate it, then I guess this show really isn’t for you. As for the finale, the whole thing is awesome as this big fireworks show to close out the season, added with Strange Supreme going back to the dark side for the sake of reviving his universe. I’ll admit that Strange Supreme had a bit of a forced redemption last season, so it is great for this finale to prove that he is, in fact, still twisted inside while allowing him to earn a more true redemption in making up for his actions. It makes his tragedy STILL feel like a tragedy, giving everyone but him a happy ending. And, again, he got punched in the face with the power of infinity. F**k all you haters, this show’s great.

Season Two is a definite improvement to Season One. Sure, the pacing is wonky, the jokes are trying too hard, and animation can look gorgeous at times but ugly at others. But the writing’s stronger, the concepts are bigger, the fun’s funner, and I got to see a woman punch a demon in the face with the power of infinity–I keep bringing that up because it is so damn awesome. And it’s the same with this show! It just fuels that part of my brain that wants to see cool, comic book shit happening. It’s not for everyone, I know that. It’s neither good nor bad, it’s just…subjectively fun. It’ll either light up your world or leave you wanting more substance than dumb fun. I enjoyed the hell out of this season, but others won’t for their own reasons (some of them being that they just hate Captain Carter). They can feel that way all they want. Still won’t change how I enjoyed the hell out of this season and look forward to more.

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu reviews #captain carter #nova nebula #marvel what if #what if season 2 #kahhori #mcu the freak #happy hogan #mcu hela #hela #justin hammer #strange supreme #tony stark #iron man

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foursthemagicknumber · 1 month ago

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Essay on erasure under cut

@roze-realm @kis5ki5skai

The Marvel Cinematic Universe has a very big problem: the erasure of minorities in their characters. They continuously change parts of characters in order to appeal to a larger demographic of audiences. When in reality- the Marvel comics were never about that. In comics we have characters that aren’t even subtle about being minorities. There’s even an entire franchise based around the idea of superpowers creating a minority that faces major discrimination. All whilst telling a cohesive story. In the movies however, the characters that are portrayed as a minority like in comics don’t get a good story.

This is most present in a certain family. The Maximoff’s are a jewish-romani family. However in age of ultron where the scarlet witch and her brother were introduced they are cast as white. As well as had them work with literal nazis. Not only that but the movie immediately killed off one half of the twins. Peitro despite at least keeping his name unlike his X-Movies counterpart, was somehow shot to death by bullet’s he is meant to be faster than.

In the new show Agatha all along they cast Joe Locke as Billy Kaplan. Many may argue that Agatha all along is playing the representation game well, having a mainly female cast with a black and asian characters and the only male on board being established gay and jewish. However this view fails to point out the fact that we only ever see William Kaplan as portrayed as jewish. Any associations to religion with Billy Maximoff, who appears to be a completely different character, are to witchcraft adjacent religions such as wiccan and paganism. This paired with the fact that by extension of his mother’s erased romani identity, his was erased as well, it’s not looking good for him. Fortunately there’s still hope for his brother.

Now as much as a good example as the Maimoff family is, there are many others. Such as, America Chavez. Now my knowledge on the comic book character is limited due to the fact that simply haven’t gotten there yet, however I know quite a bit about her appearance in Marvel Rising, a series of short films focusing on new jersey hero’s such as Ms. Marvel or Inferno. And in such she was displayed as a dark skinned Spanish aligned queer woman working a job that was barely paying for her schooling. And in multiverse of madness, she’s practically the definition of white washing. Not to mention the down play of her character’s strengths and sass. Everything that makes America, America is taken away. It’s one thing to play down what makes a character a minority but that alongside with the down play of her characterization makes her into a weak link in the very weak chain that is multiverse of madness.

Now another great instance would be Loki, who in comics is gender-fluid and pansexual. In the movies however is treated solely as male and straight. In an attempt to give him a love interest the writers posed the question, “What if Loki was a woman?” However if they were simply comic accurate, there would be no alternative female version of Loki, because sometimes he is she. Loki is the epitome of a shapeshifter who’s gender-fluid. In fact they are the first that comes to mind when asked to think of the trope- simply because it’s done so well. Loki is meant to be a character who simply is, and is unapologetic for who they are good or bad, male or female, unfortunately the MCU gave us a bratty theater kid and called it a day.

After this point tw: Child abuse

Now all of this is well and good- but the final straw would be the Hulk. In comics the Hulk, or Bruce Banner has an incredibly tragic backstory. He is a demonstration of how at times the greatest danger to a child, is the one in their own home. Bruce was abused by his father as a child which eventually led to him forming dissociative identity disorder. The alter to Bruce being Hulk an angry and out of control monster, whom is eventually given its own form different from Banner in a very Jekyll and Hyde fashion. The movies however completely ignore this idea even to such an extent that a character tells him roughly“I control my anger infinitely more than you do” almost as though it were a competition as to who has suffered more. Bruce Banner’s trauma was downplayed so parents would take their children to see his movies.

To me this is a very personal essay. I want to love the MCU as blindly as I did as a child. But I have found that the more source material I read. That harder that becomes. A character in Daredevil once said roughly ‘To love something is to forget what you don’t like about it.’ If that be true then I no longer hold this same love. I fortunately believe in a different idea, that love is something that people love to think is inherently blind. But in reality, the most complex loves are the wary ones. I love the Marvel Cinematic Universe, however I grow more and more wary of the cinematic universe as I grow more and more in love with the comics.

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cerealboxlore · 2 years ago

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i just remembered another small idea for de-aged billy thats been playing in my head

so like billy’s been very bitter around the league for the whole time they’ve seen him de-aged and end up taking him out of the watchtower for whatever reason (or he finds a way to leave himself if the league doesn’t let him because they think it’s unsafe for him or whatever) and villainous shenanigans ensue, theres a lot of damage and a very, very, scared child

of course our dear billy goes to help said child (maybe the league try to stop him since they don’t think he can comfort the child in his current bitter state but can’t really stop him?) and that’s the first time they really see captain marvel in him

like they’ve seen his physical similarities (eyes, hair, ect.) but now they see him put on a big cheesy grin for this kid, his posture becomes so much more open and friendly, and he just manages to look like he can handle anything despite the fact that by all means a boy so malnourished should not look that way

i also imagine that the way he talks suddenly holds so much wisdom and kindness (he was very mean to the league lol)

also it’d be so cool if the moment the child’s safe and out of sight he just switches up immediately and looks so weary and tired, the moment he notices the league so much as glance at him funny he switches again to super feral

(seems i had more to say than i thought dear cereal)

I always love answering your asks, sorry that I end up procrastinating so much!

Now time to cook this baby 🔥

De-aged Billy (but not really) is one of my favorite things ever, and it brings forth so many opportunities for this small child to open up and talk about his traumas and problems to the world. (Once more people has seen the newest movie I will be creating my own post about Billy's traumas and how they affect him despite being coined as the immature, childish superhero by every other superhero in his world.) But the beauty and tragedy about Billy having every opportunity and chance to open up and be vulnerable with others, is that he's too scared. Too convinced that what he wants to discuss isn't going to be important to others and that his problems are his problems alone to face and conquer, when he's just a kid. A kid who's grown up too fast for his own good.

I imagine if the league tries to keep little mortal Billy Batson in the watch tower, he'd definitely try and fly the coop. The zeta beams, trying to hitch a ride with another hero back home, or just straight up using a spell he saved to float in a hamster bubble back to Earth in space. (Superman stopped him from that last one).

Ultimately deciding on letting this small and feral child version of Captain Marvel outside in his own city for some fresh air is the smart decision. There may be some of his villains looking for him for any opportunity to strike at him, but I trust that the Justice League wouldn't leave him alone without a partner/chaperone, as they joked. It was supposed to be just Billy and Green Arrow accompanying him while things got sorted out.

Unfortunately Plastic Man hitched a ride on the zeta beam at the last second and completely threw plans WAY off.

They end up getting spotted by a villain, Dr. Sivana possibly, and things get messy, as you said. Green Arrow shoots down his mechanical dummies while Plastic Man deals with dangling the bald man upside down a lamp post. But the catastrophic effect to the clean and nice street was evident. Buildings were crashed into and torn apart by Dr. Sivana, nearly killing off innocent civilians, had it not been for Billy Batson guiding them to safety routes and easing their escapes.

In the chaos of it all, I like to believe that Billy will still find calmness and ease in it, after living a life so full of it for so long. He'd still remain focused, especially when he hears the cries of a familiar voice. A classmate.

They don't know that he's secretly Captain Marvel, and he doesn't know their name. But what does that matter? They're both kids. They're both too young for any of this to be happening to them. Guiding them away from all the falling debris and rubble, Billy keeps his classmate calm enough to bring them away from the dangers of the battle close to them.

Green Arrow and Plastic Man manged to shoot/sneak a concerned and worried look over to their supposed de-aged teammate's way, only to be surprised when they see that Billy is smiling as confidently and with his big cheesey grin as before.

That's when they realize. Even if it wasn't real or a moment in bad vision, it felt like Billy's shoulders were much broader than they seemed. Like the weight of the world was on his shoulders more than they should have been, but that the boy would never complain and only ask for more weight to hold in return. Just like their regular Cap.

It's strange. They never noticed this side of Captain Marvel before. They were meeting so many new sides of him in just one day, despite knowing him for years at this point. Just how much of their friend had they not known?

"Hey, come on, hold my hand! I'll get you out of this, maybe you'll still have time to help give me the math homework answers for tomorrow!"

"B-but! I'm too scared to move!! Everything is falling, a-and I-"

"It's going to be alright. You have to make the first step if you want to keep moving forward. I'll be with you, I promise. Let's get out of here. Together."

At the end of the terrible, no good, very bad day for Billy Batson, and Dr. Sivana is dealt with and his classmate is sent home to their family safe and sound, Billy just collapses, intending to hit the grass and sleep off everything, had it not been for the swift and caring stretched arms of Plastic Man catching him in time.

Billy wants to argue and maybe even tries to scratch at Plastic Man to let him go, but Plastic Man is already swinging and rocking him in the air in his super stretched arms, singing loudly and annoyingly an out of pitch made up lullaby.

Green Arrow gets them zeta beamed back to the watch tower before Plastic Man can start on the next chorus, but at least they were able to give the de aged Captain Marvel some free time for once (even if that was ruined halfway through).

Billy looks so peaceful and soft when sleeping. Malnourished and scruffy, yes, but right now, he was safe, and that was all that mattered. They'd figure out how to age him back to normal soon, and Billy would find a way to get out of this troublesome situation....eventually. But for now? Billy can enjoy this well-earned sleep.

Whew. It feels like I had a lot more to say than I thought, Markus.

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ozma914 · 4 months ago

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Movie Review: Deadpool and Wolverine

One danger of watching "Deadpool and Wolverine" in the theaters is that you never know what was spilled on that floor you're rolling around on.

And I don't mean you'll be making out with someone because the movie's boring, either. No, "Deadpool and Wolverine" is exactly what it's advertised to be: Profane, fast-paced, irreverent, hilarious, and ... oh, yeah. Emotional.

That's the trick Ryan Reynolds and company manage to pull off. Deadpool speaks directly to the audience, talks about being in a movie, makes fun of Marvel and Disney, and just generally breaks all the rules. Then he grabs you by the feels and pulls you in until you actually care about this guy, despite the fact that you both know he's only a character.

Wade Wilson has left his super anti-hero days behind him and sells cars, badly, after a failed attempt to join the Avengers. But he's pulled back into his old life when he discovers his entire universe is going to end because of the loss of its anchor hero, Wolverine, who died during the events of "Logan". (Hey, it been out way too long for that to be a spoiler.)

That sends Wade on a multiverse-spanning search for another Logan to bring back, an attempt that treats us to several different Wolverines until Wade finds one that may work. Unfortunately, it's the worst Wolverine in all the universes. Together they set out on a blood splattered journey across timelines, encountering familiar help and villains along the way.

Yes, it has a plot. But just putting Reynolds and Hugh Jackman in a room together would generate plenty of fun for two hours, all by itself. They're clearly having a blast here, and yet, as mentioned earlier, they also generate plenty of pathos and suspense. After all, there are millions of universes, and Deadpool's isn't even the main Marvel one. There's nothing to say it will survive the fight.

I'm not sure there's any way to communicate just how much fun "Deadpool and Wolverine" is. It helps to know something of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (especially the TV series Loki). It also helps to be a fan of the comics, although its not necessary. Most of the main points we hit along the way are familiar to even those with only a passing knowledge of the MCU, for the same reason someone who's never seen Star Wars can spout off a dozen catchphrases and the basic plot.

Just the same, the sheer number of cameos, references, and background clues will bring squeals of glee from comic fans, even as non-comic fans enjoy the fast pace and no holds barred banter. Oh, and the stabbing. Lots and lots of stabbing. Did I mentioned the movie's rated R? Do NOT take your kids to see it.

But take yourself to see it. If you have half as much fun as Reynolds and Jackman clearly did, it'll be a good day. Where to find our books or just have some fun:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

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Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

Remember: Books can be just as much fun as Deadpool, without having to clean up the blood.

#humor #movies #reviews #review #movie review #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #wolverine

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covenantofthedeep · 1 year ago

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small talk; you are in love ☆

feat. | childe, thoma! summary | gradually getting more comfy w them a/n | plsplspls rb :] i hope this was close to what you wanted anon!! pls enjoy!

childe |

childe's used to stunning people into silence, but you've been nothing but silence since you met. one of your common friends had suggested that you two would be really good friends--maybe even more? you had agreed to meet with childe, solely because you figured, what could go wrong?

your first date (or... meet, perhaps) is perfect, except for the fact that you say about twenty words to him in total. he frets about it later; was he really so awful?

the second date, at a coffee shop, is marginally better, where you had tried to force yourself out of your shyness and ended up word vomiting about your feelings on straight black coffee. and then you realized he was holding a cup of black coffee, and you had wished for a giant sinkhole to swallow you up.

the third date, you're absolutely determined to make it enjoyable for both you and him. you ask him if he wants to see a movie you really like, and he agrees, wondering if you'll open up to him this time. (he's completely smitten with you, as much as he's embarrassed to admit.)

after the movie, stepping out into the blinding bright lights, you immediately start chattering. "oh, did you like the music? i swear i got goosebumps! i love movie theater popcorn so much, what about you? what's your favorite candy? honestly, i'm a little hungry, do you want to grab dinner or something? what did you think about the scene where...." you trail off, embarrassed, when childe laughs.

"that's most you've ever said to me," he marvels, winking at you.

and so you continue, dropping your thoughts about anything and everything, and, for once, childe is completely silent, and he honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

thoma |

you've had feelings for thoma since you first saw him at the kamisato estate. you were really close with ayaka at the time, and had seen him nearly every day. unfortunately, you always froze up when he approached, going completely silent.

ayaka had noticed this, and tried to push you two together, despite your protests that haven't you noticed that i can't say anything around him?

and so you wind up having a picnic together, and you have never been more nervous.

unbeknownst to you, thoma had been fascinated with you too--he liked the way that you laughed completely freely with ayaka behind her door, and how you snorted when you laughed. his aim for your picnic-date was to make you laugh like that, although, it appeared, it would be a little difficult.

it's a perfect day, with a spread of foods that would usually have you digging in, but today, you're so incredibly on edge that you've managed to spill the entire pot of tea and upend the tray of katsu sandwiches. quietly cursing under your breath and dabbing in vain at the stain of tea, you wonder why you had gone along with ayaka.

and then he beams at you, and you remember.

"here," he says, ever the gentleman, "leave that alone. it's fine, we can just cover it up with the sangayaki." he shifts the sangayaki onto the stain. "see? it's perfectly fine."

you shake your head at him and smile, reaching for an egg roll, when suddenly, the ridiculousness of it all shocks you, and you drop the egg roll and laugh. then you start wheezing, and snorting, and thoma looks so utterly befuddled that it gets you going again. a minute later, he joins in, holding onto his taiyaki with one hand.

he drops it into his lap, the chocolate spilling out onto his pant leg, and you realize, laughing at him, perhaps all you needed with him was a little push in the right direction.

#pspspsp do u get the song do u get it do u get it #thoma x reader #thoma genshin impact #childe x reader #childe genshin impact #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin imagines #thoma fluff #childe fluff #also sorry i think both of those were ooc. but um #i need to write more #this was totally honestly ass

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28dayslater · 4 months ago

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Please talk more about how you hated Deadpool 3, your sharp-witted hot takes sustain me.

Love you lots x

I probably wouldn't have been so irate about it if I didn't like the other deadpool movies. Like they're stupid and annoying but I do like them, I really like deadpool 2 I think it's genuinely well made. This was not.

So there were actually several things I liked:

Hugh Jackman seems like he's genuinely trying and I thought his character was, at the start, reasonably compelling. Like he's this total failure got all his friends killed depressed as fuck and doesn't even want to fight. Unfortunately he then becomes Generic Marvel Hero (personality variation: grumpy) and all that is lost

Emma Corrin is decent as the main villain and her outfit is cute

Matthew Macfayden is so good, this is him operating at 5% of his powers but he's genuinely so funny, his line delivery is amazing

I cracked a smile at one (1) joke (Wolverine very flatly saying "we don't know that guy")

Here's a non exhaustive list of complaints

Emma Corrin and Matthew Macfayden despite coming off well are given absolutely nothing interesting to do

Every line of dialogue has "fucking" shoved in at some random interval, has zero effect and just comes off like WHOA GUYS LOOK... THEY SAID THE BAD WORD IN A MARVEL MOVIE... ARE THEY ALLOWED TO DO THAT????

Deadpool's annoying dialogue is even worse than usual, we need to shoot Ryan Reynolds in the street like a dog. People were hooting and hollering in my cinema. Why. It's simply not funny

I hate scenes where the hero(es) go up against a thousand random indistinguishable goons and kill them all in one hit, there are approximately five hundred of those and they all last what feels like hours

I hate scenes where the hero(es) go up against someone exactly as strong as them and just punch/stab/shoot each other for ages and do no lasting damage so what was even the point, there are approximately five hundred of those and they all last what feels like hours

The emotional core of the movie is absolutely non existent, it's that Deadpool got dumped by Vanessa for not caring enough about saving the world or whatever so he's trying to prove himself as a superhero?? This is not compelling

I am not a fan of massive scale "we have to save the universe" stuff in general and where I think the previous two movies benefited from being a lot smaller scale (we have to beat the bad guy bc he is evil, we have to stop this boy killing someone bc then he'll become evil) this is like THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE IS AT RISK IT'S GOING TO BE OBLITERATED which essentially means there are no stakes at all. Like that means nothing. Who gives a shit

I also hate the stupid multiverse shit and I might have turned a blind eye had it not been so egregious. They get sent to this dimension where all the superhero rejects go and every minute of the film after that is like "look it's Elektra from daredevil 2003! Remember her? Look it's Random Xman #59! Look it's doctor strange's magic ring!" Ohhhhhhhh my god who CARES

There's this bit where he's trying to join the avengers and Jon Favreau gives this whole speech about how important they are, it's just five minutes of Kevin Feige sucking his own dick cumming into his own mouth and swallowing

NO CABLE NO DOMINO NO RUSSELL.... WHATS THE POINT

Why was "Shatterstar" there at all

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maple-the-awesome · 1 year ago

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We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 27

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 4,779

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: GOODNIGHT AND GOOD MOURNING

Bucky counts two rings of the doorbell and six knocks. Second ring in case the first wasn't heard, six heavy knocks in case the doorbell might be broken, and yet despite this extra work, he never actually had any real expectations for the door to open on its own. Unfortunately, he gave up hope on that a few weeks ago.

Setting some bags down by his feet and cursing when they immediately tip over, he uses his new free hand to fish through his pocket, succeeding in not only finding his keys, but the correct one to unlock this blasted barrier before him.

Per usual, he's greeted with an eerily dark hallway that seems fitting for the start of a horror movie. Shuffling through the door with another curse as the same pesky bags get caught on the handle, he kicks it shut behind himself then calls out into the darkness as if it would reply, "Hey...It's me!"

Unfazed by the greeting of silence, he leaves his boots and coat there before making a b-line for the kitchen, pleased to leave all his grocery bags there to officially free himself of their incontinent weight. He goes to the fridge first, not to put anything away, but rather to grimace at the barren sight inside. Some condiments, a little bit of milk, veggies that look past their expiration date, and a half rack of beer…Good thing he went shopping.

Walking around the bar and into the living room, Bucky almost makes the mistake of going further which would've taken him right past the couch and, more importantly, the motionless lump lying there. When he does spot it in the corner of his eyes, he sighs - for some reason he still has a reason to sigh despite this having become a despairing routine as of lately.

Slowly, he steps over the few empty beer bottles on the floor and squats next to the couch where his frown only grows deeper as he pokes the lump, "It's past noon...You should get up and eat something - You need to get up and eat something."

He only gets a groan in response, but at least that's better than continued silence.

"I bought groceries. I can make something if you want?" Nothing, "...Or I can even order some take-out. Anything particular in mind?"

"...I don't want anything..."

Bucky inhales, although he tries not to make it sound so sharp. Standing upright and grabbing the empty bottles, he heads back into the kitchen, “...You’ll make yourself sick living off of beer alone, you know?”

"For your information, I had ramen yesterday."

"I'm proud of you," He's truly sincere, not that you'd believe that, "That means today, we can have something other than beer or ramen. Now, what do you feel like? I was thinking we could just do a simple, early dinner. I got some frozen pizza. Maybe we can have that and do a movie night or somethin' - just enjoy an easy going, lazy day. What do you say? I wouldn't mind another marathon of Lord of the Rings. You still keep the extended cuts under the TV stand, yeah?”

He’s rambling and normally, you find it enduring, however today - and for the last few weeks - his voice has been a distant echo in your head; nothing but a dull mumble against the terrible thoughts that overtake your care and concern. It makes you feel shitty in every way possible. Bucky visits every day without fail, armed with unlimited patience and kindness that he somehow manages to smother you in without actually smothering you (it’s been painfully obvious that he’s desperately trying to give you some space while still being present).

"Oh yeah, and I also got your favorite. They had it next to check-out. 'thought you'd like some," Even when a candy bar is waved in front of your face, your eyes barely shift to it before disappearing from sight when you curl further into your blanket sanctuary.

"...No thank you.”

Although his smile does wobble a bit into a frown, Bucky forces himself not to break; not here, not in front of you. He’d be an absolute hypocrite to complain, after all, it was him who spent several years moping which (unintentionally) dragged you into quite a lot of trouble. You pulled him from that hole, giving him the support he needed to move on from his past as hard as that had been. Now it’s his turn to return the favor.

Still - and he’s afraid he might be thinking selfishly with this, but there are days where he just wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and force you to go outside for once because the worry is eating away at him right now. It’s been weeks since the Snap - Well, five years for everyone else, but only a few measly weeks since the two of you had been thrown into this whirlwind of events that have left you both shaken.

It’s strange to think you can close your eyes and find out five years have passed. It’s even stranger to be thrown into a war for the universe immediately after, receiving no chance to process everything going on until you’re left with nothing. Natasha, Tony, Steve…The people who you cared for are gone and you never got to say goodbye - not in the way you wanted.

You were so damn happy, too. At long last, you had fixed your life, surrounded by people who were close to Hollie or at least understood that you were once her. No more pretending nor biting your tongue; you were free to just be you, both as Hollie and (Y/n). To think, you were actually excited for your future for the first time in, well, years - decades, even…then it all came tumbling down within mere minutes…Now you’re left with the shattered remains yet again and can’t help but ask yourself: how many more times? When will you have suffered enough?

"...(Y/n)...” Bucky breathes your name and you notice the crack behind his voice as he kneels down beside you, gently moving a strand of hair away from your face, “I’m not asking for you to be okay or to move on. I’m just asking that you take care of yourself a little better. You’re not eating, you haven’t left the apartment in days - I don’t even think you’re really sleeping either. I -...I’m getting really worried about you, darling…”

He has a point. You know he has a point because this isn’t the first time you’ve been here. If anything, you should be an expert on grief and recovery, having learned from experience that wallowing doesn’t bring anyone back…so why do you still feel like utter shit then? You should be a productive member of society, counting your blessings and moving on because you’re lucky enough to even be here. So many people have it worse than you. Bucky, for example. He lost Steve, too. He tries to brush it off, but you see the pain in his eyes. Steve didn’t die or anything. He just…left. He left both of you willingly despite the suffering you’ve already been cursed with…He abandoned you both with it and while you want to be happy for him and happy that he got to be with Peggy in the end as they both deserved…you can’t help feeling pissed…betrayed even…

Bucky has a right to be mad, too. He should have his own time to grieve for himself instead of being stuck in this dark apartment babying you. Even if he has already moved on (not that you’d believe it), that would be all the more reason for him to go live his life. Why does he keep fussing over you when he should be taking care of himself?

“I’m getting really worried about you, darling…”

…You wish you could make Bucky happy. You want him to be happy, having moved on from all those awful things HYDRA had done to the quiet, simple life he desires, yet selfishly at the same time, you don’t actually want to let him go. You’re stuck in this awful limbo where you want to throw in the towel and give up on everything you’ve worked so hard on throughout the years, after all, it sure didn’t take long to crumble around you, but at the same time, you’re so tired of feeling alone…You don’t want to go back to that life even if it means desperately grasping at strings and dragging poor Bucky down with you…

At long last you peek out from behind your blanket, lazily gazing up at the man in question. There was once a time when you would shamelessly swoon at the thought of having his affection and admittedly, you’re heart still flutters at hearing his concern for you, however after the Snap, you can’t help feeling numb inside as if your heart is covered in frozen ice that even Bucky can’t chip away…at least, that's what you had begun to believe until finally getting a good look at him.

Your heart speeds up so suddenly it makes a wave of nausea run over your entire body, making you feel a bit more awake than you had been before. For once you find energy for something and that's to wiggle your arm out from under the blankets, reaching until your fingers manage to touch the top of his head.

"...You cut your hair," You observe so stupidly, avoiding his eyes as you focus only on his new haircut which is quite the change. Yesterday he had his hair pulled back into a bun while complaining of the heat, however today, his long locks are gone, leaving a rather short yet soft fluff behind.

"Yeah...'got it done this morning," He slightly bows his head down towards you more, burning through all his willpower not to fully lean into your touch. He’s as cautious with his movements as he is in watching your expression and asking the question, “Do you like it…?”

You finally allow yourself to look at his face, your fingers just barely running along his cheek on their way to falling limb against the couch again. For a brief second anyone could miss, your lip quivers, but you do good to press it back the same way you blink away any tears threatening to make an appearance. Maybe Bucky notices, maybe he doesn’t.

"...It’s a good look on you,” You inhale, eyes drifting over his facial features to catch every detail because at this point you’ve abandoned all caution. You’ll accept in this moment that you’re being selfish and you’ll also decide not to care, “...You clean up nicely, Barnes. Who would’ve guessed?”

Bucky beams - quite literally, he beams with a boyish grin and glitter to his eyes after hearing you say something more akin to your usual self. Oh, how he’s missed your teasing. Sure, your voice is cracked and barely more than a whisper, but it’s progress he won’t object to. He also doesn’t object to you slowly sitting up while running a hand through your own messy air and sighing at your headache.

“So, um…A movie marathon, you said?”

“Unless you have anything else in mind?”

You press your lips, never letting the hand fall from your head. There’s a voice inside who tries to argue, reminding you that it’ll only end in more heartbreak if you try yet again to pick up the pieces of Hollie’s life, but God, it’s so damn difficult with Bucky’s adorable, hopeful smile. He’s attached to you even without understanding the truth. He cares for (Y/n), he worries about you…That’s supposed to be a good thing, right? You wanted that - wanted to know that he could love you as you, not as just Hollie, however there’s a side of you that doesn’t feel quite right about it for some reason…some reason you’ll ignore.

“...No. A movie night sounds fun…”

Baby steps - that’s what it took for you to start functioning again after Bucky’s supposed death seventy eight years ago; lots and lots of baby steps. Misery doesn’t disappear overnight which is a cruel truth that hasn’t changed between then and the modern era, although misery does fade overtime if you can successfully focus on the things you like and the things you still have.

You might not have your family to pull you out of this funk like last time, but at least you have Bucky (a bittersweet switch, if anything). He’s kept you distracted with different movies he wants to watch and recipes he’d like to bake. He’s always around, in fact you’ve already told him he can keep that spare key to your apartment because honestly, neither of you can remember that last time he’s actually stayed at his own.

Once you stopped stubbornly pushing him away, Bucky was allowed to bear witness to some of the demons that have been haunting your mind since the Snap. It’s safe to say you’ve done your fair share of crying in front of him, letting your frustrations slip as you curse Thanos and the universe and anyone who can possibly be linked to causing your current pain. You’ve expressed your anger with Steve, your sorrow over Natasha, and mourning for Tony.

You’re thankful that, no matter what sobs or curses have escaped you, Bucky has never filled the gap with unrealistic promises that everything will ‘be okay’. You’ve grown tired of hearing that from others, so it’s been refreshing to have someone instead hold you during your moments of vulnerability while promising that they’ll always be there for you when life gets rough.

Thanks largely to Bucky’s encouragement and support, you’ve gotten better. Not ‘better’ as in fully fixed, but ‘better’ as in you can find the strength to go on errands into town and ensure you’re maintaining a healthy diet again.

Life seems to have returned to a small sense of normal again, strongly reminding you of your stay in Romania which you had treasured so much. Coffee together in the mornings, afternoons discussing each other’s day, movie nights, and take-out dinner…It’s no wonder that your parents have inquired about your ‘boyfriend’. Your relationship sure seems to be leaning that way from the outside looking in (more than it ever has before) and, despite how desperately you try to ignore it, sometimes you find yourself drifting too far into the domestic bliss the same way you had in Romania, dangerously letting your guard down until you’re ripped back into reality by an unwanted and awful reminder…First it had been Steve appearing in your apartment those seven years ago, now this…

“You know…” Bucky’s voice easily gains your attention, earning a pleasant hum as you curl your head closer to his chest in acknowledgment.

It’s hot out today meaning the air conditioning’s been blasting with a box fan rumbling mere feet away, yet you’ve still filed no complaint towards cuddling close to his side on the couch while binging an entire season of The Office.

Despite your patience waiting for a response, it doesn’t come too promptly. Instead he awkwardly adjusts his arm around you and swallows before speaking, “...We should go out to dinner tomorrow night.”

You’re both blind and deaf to his shyness, merely perking an eyebrow without taking your eyes off the screen, “Why tomorrow? Are you on a diet that says you can’t eat dinner on Tuesday nights?”

Usually he’d chuckle at such a comment, and he nearly does, a short sound making it past his lips which he quickly bites back, “N-No, I mean, we’ll still eat dinner tonight obviously, I was just trying - I’d like to go somewhere nice together. Sit down dining, type deal.”

Finally understanding the hint, you become a bit nervous yourself, “How ‘nice’ are we exactly talking? Red Robins kinda nice or um…make a reservation nice?”

“Nicer than Red Robins…” He rubs the back of his neck with a shrug, although you don’t get a chance to voice your concerns because he skillfully spots them first, “Don’t worry about money or anything like that. I’ve been saving. I was thinking I’d treat ya’ - take you out to dinner someplace special for the evening…I promised after all.”

Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise when you push away from him so quickly that you almost fall off the couch. It would be one thing for you to just turn and look at him, however your movements are desperate as if his touch had suddenly burned you. The way you’re actually looking at him doesn’t help, either. You appear as if you’ve seen a ghost, face pale and eyes wild as you stare.

“W-When?”

“Huh -?”

“When did you promise that?” You whisper rather cautiously, only further confusing the poor man.

“In Wakanda? A week or so before you came there I promised that when we see each other again, I’d take you out to dinner - as a thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Bucky frowns, visibly concerned about your behavior, enough so that he hesitates to reach out to you, “Are you alright -?”

“- I…I don’t know if that’s a good idea…‘sounds kinda like a date, don’t you think?” You try to calm your heartbeat through deep yet casual breaths, even attempting a poor laugh at the end of your sentence, however it’s clear such struggling is useless; that damage has already been done.

Bucky bows his head in shame while slowly retracing his hand, “...Would a date be so bad?”

You open your mouth only to close it, fearing the nausea that bubbles within your stomach. This isn’t how you expected your reaction to be. You’ve been dreaming of this moment, desperately hoping for the day Bucky asks you out so that you can finally rekindle that relationship you once had and miss dearly. It would have to be by his own terms, you decided long ago, not wanting to push him by making the move yourself, however secretly, there has been another reason for waiting - a certain anxiety that has interested in relevance over these last nine years.

"The second I get back, I'm taking you out to dinner - a nice place, too, I've been saving.”

“Let me do this for you, Hollie. Eight o'clock sharp. Houghton's. I'd say wear something nice, but you look dazzling in anything."

It isn’t easy having lived two lives. It isn’t easy having the memories of a different person - although still you - who remains in pieces only inside your mind and personality. You’re Hollie. You’ve maintained certain traits of hers and you continue to love all that she had…but you’re also (Y/n). You don’t look the same and you endured a new childhood, in a new world, with a new family…While in your own eyes, you’d argue that this change is minimum, equivalent to the way a child changes into a teen and a teen into an adult, there’s has always been a fear hidden within your heart that others might not see the same.

What if someone who knew you then doesn’t like who you are now?

You were able to set that question aside for the others. Steve knew Hollie as a friend. You were close, although your interactions were limited and rarely were you alone. Frankly, you became closer during your time as (Y/n) when each other's support was needed more than ever. Tony knew Hollie as an aunt when he was very young. His image of you was built upon four years of vague memories with your care and support being at the forefront; that’s all he expected from (Y/n)...Neither of them truly compared to Bucky, a man who loved Hollie in more ways than one and got to know her best despite your short time together.

What if he doesn’t like who you are now?

Bucky loved Hollie - he still loves her. You saw her picture in his wallet once when he brought groceries over. You’re okay with that part alone, however you worried that if you immediately told him from the very beginning that you’re the same person as that girl in the photo - from that first day you found him in DC - would he have only loved you because of Hollie? Because the concept of being with you was his only chance of being with her again?

It’s ridiculous and foolish. You act jealous of yourself, although you honestly believed it to be in the best interest for both of you. You don’t want to exist solely as a living memory, not an individual, and you don’t think it would’ve been healthy for Bucky, either. He needed to love you for who you are now. He needed to move on in some way.

He has moved on. Hollie’s still kept close to his heart, yet he’s sitting here now asking for you. He’s spent months - no, years probably - loving you and looking to you as a means to finally be happy. This is exactly what you wanted…so why do you still feel so shitty inside?

"(Y/n)!”

You turn your head. You can tell by his eyes that Bucky didn’t mean to raise his voice, but at least it gained your attention at last. Cautiously, he reaches for you again, this time committing to the action. It’s only when the cold metal of his thumb runs along your cheek that you realize you’re crying.

“...It doesn’t have to be a date. We don’t even have to go. Don’t -...Don’t worry about it, alright? It’s not that big of a deal?” Oh, but it is. Bucky’s such a terrible liar. If it truly wasn’t a big deal, then why did his voice crack with a dejected undertone?

“I-I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I’m just…being emotional for no reason at all,” You huff mostly to yourself, miserably attempting to rub the tears away with the edges of your sleeves. Bucky has much better luck at it, carefully using his thumbs and palms to catch your tears. All the while, he searches your eyes for any sign of harm which almost makes you forget your sadness…almost…

Meeting his gaze, you move a hand of your own to his cheek, smiling softly, “I’d love to go on a date with you, James.”

“But -”

“- I’m afraid.”

His mouth snaps shut after your whisper and it takes him a second to meet it, equally as silent, “...Why?”

You don’t answer too promptly yourself. A keen eye would notice your hesitation as you heavily debate your next action, although you hide it well behind the admiration you seem almost drunk on while running your hand back into Bucky’s much shorter hair. For years you’ve bit your tongue and danced around your inner thoughts which has been a tiring endeavor for sure, enough so that in a moment like this, you’ve lost the willpower to keep the act up, choosing to instead speak directly from your heart regardless of the risk.

“...You’ve always been so good to me, James. ‘a real knight in shining armor…You know, I was so alone before I met you, not thinkin’ I’d ever find someone who could keep up with my nonsense. Others figured me to be crazy, that or they were intimidated by me being too ‘unique’, as my family put it. Whether I tried to change or not, it didn’t matter because if I wasn’t different to the world, I was different to myself. There was no winning and my displacement only seemed to grow with age. ‘started to believe the universe cursed me for some reason - that I must’ve done something terrible in my past or perhaps I was simply too happy at some point, leaving an overdrawn balance now…I didn’t want to do it anymore, but then you came around again. You gave me hope - meaning, even.

“I feel happy with you - very happy, as if I can breathe easy and just be myself without ever worrying about judgment again because as long as you like me, that’s all I need to know that I’m not crazy,” Bucky opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get a chance when you gently place a finger to his lips, “You mean sooo much to me, James, in fact I don’t think you’ll ever be able to truly understand the full extent of my love for you…and that’s what scares me. There’s…Well, there’s something I need to tell you, but I’m afraid that whenever I do, you’ll push me away. Whether it’s because you don’t believe me or you get mad at me -”

“- I could never get mad at you, darling -”

“- You say that now and I'm sure you believe it, but once you hear what I have to say, you might change your mind -”

“- I don’t think that’s possible -”

“- James -”

“- You said that I might not understand the extent of your love, but I don’t think you understand mine,” He interrupts more sternly, slowly grasping your wrist and lowering your hand over his heart. He holds it there and doesn’t let go, a hint of shyness in his eyes, “You mean a lot to me - you have meant a lot to me for a while now. Around you, I feel relaxed a-as if all those things HYDRA had done never happened. I start to think that I might actually deserve a happy life by your side and even if I don’t, then fuck it, I don’t find myself caring. I want to be with you anyways because every second that I’m not, I’m restless like a piece of me is gone…Being here with you, I…It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time…There’s nothing you could say to make it suddenly go away.”

You chuckle apprehensively with a shake of your head, letting your gaze finally fall from his, “...I bet I could…”

“I highly doubt it,” He rolls his eyes, leaning close enough for his own quiet laughter to be felt. You steal a glance at his lips, nearly giving into your own temptation to touch them, although you hesitate there instead.

“You don’t know -”

“- I don’t need to then -”

“- This is serious, James!” You plead weakly, trying to pull your hand from his and move off his lap where you just now notice he’s brought you, yet it should be of no surprise that he’s stronger than you and won’t let this matter drop so easily without resolve.

Your actions cause his concern to return and he becomes serious once again, his stormy eyes watching you so very carefully with his bottom lip puffed out in a pout, “...What’s really wrong, (Y/n)? I don't get it. You just said that you love me too and that must be true - I believe that it's true because, I mean, why else would you have stuck by my side after all the shit I’ve dragged you into? I-If I have to do more to prove my love for you, I will, if that’s what has you so worried - Or if you’re not ready for a relationship yet, that’s fine, too. Just…tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it. No more beatin’ around the bush…Please, darling…”

Suddenly, your eyes feel so stern watching him despite the tears that fill them as you slightly bow your head in what you would deem as shame, although he might mistake it for anger given how persistent and strange you’re behaving. He’s all ears, though. Maybe slightly taken aback by your vulnerable speech, but this isn’t the first time you’ve expressed your inner thoughts with him since the Snap and he’s here to listen without judgment as he’s always been. He just hopes he didn’t make you uncomfortable by overstepping.

Usually you're the one to make him flustered. He thought all of your prior flirting meant he was safe to ask you out, however he’s now starting to second guess all of that. He hasn’t dated since Hollie, after all. He’s been out of the game for so long, it’s completely possible that he read the situation wrong. Then again, you just admitted to loving him, so what’s stopping you? You had assured long ago that you have no actual fiancé, he's certain you aren't dating anyone else at the moment, and you've both gone in public countless times together, so surely you aren't ashamed to be seen with him even despite his muddy past. Is it too soon after the Snap? Are you just not ready for commitment? Why are you suddenly acting so hesitant as if you haven't spent the last several years longing for each other?

"...Bucky," He shallows somewhat nervously when you whisper his name, meeting eyes once again, "...I'm Holiday Stark..."

NEXT CHAPTER ->

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teaandbatteries · 7 months ago

Text

Call and Response

Welp. Despite not having watched a Marvel movie in years, have a random Marvel fanfic that just kind of spilled out of me for no reason over the last couple of days, lol.

It's also a very different vibe from my usual writing for some reason. I dunno, if I'm being honest I feel a bit weird about it, like it's way more purple than I usually write.

Anyway, it was inspired (in part) by a little little section of the poem "Hydrophobia" by Sam Sax.

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Alexander Pierce sat staring at the laptop sitting on his desk. Next to him, an analyst stood with a clipboard, watching nervously at the way his boss's jaw clenched over and over again in frustration. On the screen, a video feed showed a cell holding the Winter Soldier and yet another team of medics and agents who had been sent in to subdue him, bleeding out on the floor.

Pierce scoffed, knocking the laptop closed so hard that it nearly tipped backward off the desk. "How the hell did this happen?"

The analyst swallowed thickly, looking down at his clipboard. "Um. Well, sir, he was displaying hesitation before making his assigned kills, so the medical team has been using depressants to suppress his empathetic responses. Unfortunately, he developed a resistance to them very quickly, so they kept increasing the dosage until, uh... Well, the dosage was increased too much, and now it seems to have caused some sort of mental break, sir."

Pierce scowled, rubbing irritably at his temples. "So what, then? We just wait until his resistance to the medication wears off and reduce the dosage again?"

The analyst took a step back with a shuddering breath. "A-actually, given his enhanced physiology, the medical team isn't sure his resistance will ever wear off..."

Pierce leveled a murderous look at the analyst. "Then what do they plan to do about this?!"

"I, uh, I don't... I don't..."

A knock at the office door came just in time to save the poor analyst from having to finish that potentially fatal sentence, and a young woman wearing a lab coat stuck her head through the door. "Sir? I believe I may have found a potential option for handling our Winter Soldier problem."

Pierce waved her into the room. "Explain, miss...?"

"Doctor Patricia Hardy," she answered, smiling politely as she crossed the room and placed the file open on his desk. "The Winter Envoy program may finally have a use."

Looking over the file, Pierce frowned. "Wait, there are other Winter asset programs? Other enhanced agents? Why wasn't I informed of this?"

She shrugged. "Because they were largely failures, sir. The programs were all ended decades ago. The only one that actually produced any surviving assets was this one," she explained, gesturing to the file. "The Envoy program was originally trying to produce a functioning telepath. They never succeeded; the closest they ever came was producing a powerful empath." She reached over to point at a table of data on the next page of the file. "She can detect and mirror the emotional states of those around her. Experiments also suggest that she broadcasts her own emotions to anyone nearby, causing others to feel as she does. If we can ensure that she feels calm and compliant, and then we send her into the cell with the Winter Soldier..."

He nodded slowly, drawing out the first few words of the sentence as he considered all idea. "Yes, yes this could work. How long before we can have her ready?"

Hardy grinned. "I can have her out of cryo this afternoon, sir."

"And..." Pierce hummed to himself, looking over the file again. "You said they never found a good use for her? Really?"

She reached across the desk again, to point out a different table, dense with numbers. "Records show a few attempts to use her for interrogations. They forced her into a state of panic and then placed her in a room with the subject of the interrogation. It seems that part of the experiment worked, but the interrogators were just as affected as the subjects, and they were never able to figure out how to ensure that she only affected the intended subject."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Sounds like they just lacked creativity. Well, in any case, let's get her prepped to handle this problem with the Winter Soldier. We can talk more about other uses for her later." He turned suddenly to the analyst, who was still hovering silently next to him. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go help Dr Hardy."

--------

I was still disoriented from the slightly nauseating process of waking from cryosleep. They'd injected me with something right after pulling me from the chamber - something that made me feel like I was floating just slightly outside my own body, and yet somehow also managed to feel heavy, like a false serenity was pressing down on every one of my limbs, leaving me sluggish and unbalanced.

The vertigo almost made me trip over my own feet as I was pushed down a dank hallway full of jail cells. I couldn't think, couldn't remember where I was. When the people wearing black masks pushed me through the door, all I could think about was how my fingers still felt numb from the cold of the cryochamber.

And then I was drowning in anger.

No, not anger. Not just anger, at least. The man in the corner of the cell was like a white-hot coal, radiating a vicious rage that can only be born of a deep, existential terror. He was an injured, cornered animal, with nothing left but a blind fury intended to take his murderers into the darkness with him.

Only, he wasn't injured. Not physically, at least. But I could feel the ragged edges of his psyche, shredded until it bled and scarred, and then shredded all over again, until there was almost nothing left. As the fog in my head finally began to clear, I began to understand who he was. What he was. He was like me - a captive plaything.

To the people who held us here, we were both nothing more than toys, to be broken and remoulded into whatever shape most entertained them today. And then put away, back into the cold dark, until they wished to play with us again. The shape of my scars might be different than his, but they were left by the same careless hands.

As I stared across the cell at him, I understood why they were so afraid of him. His hands were still soaked with the blood of the last team who had tried to force him into submission. Every muscle in his body was tight with tension, ready to lash out at any who came too close.

I wasn't afraid of him.

I should've been. A cornered animal was dangerous. But instead, all I felt was a kinship with him. I understood his rage, and I understood the fear that fueled it.

His gaze swiveled slowly around the cage until it met mine. The anger that lapped against my skin like fire began to change - imperceptibly, at first, and then faster as the minutes ticked by in silence.

Mine was not anger. What lived inside me was a cold hate, a placid glass lake no less dangerous than the fire because it was so easy to mistake for serenity. It was not calm - it was cold and it was bitter, and it would drag anyone who got too close down into its infinite depths to be drowned without remorse.

I see you. I know you. We are the same.

We'd both been people, once. Real people. Whole people. And then we were brought here and hollowed out until there was nothing left that made us us. Denied memories, denied personality, denied pathos, they'd taken from us more than just freedom. They'd taken our identities.

I could feel what a real life felt like, sometimes, from the staff around the complex. I felt the mild annoyance from one of the doctors when one of his children was late for school. I felt the little ache of heartbreak from the admin assistant when his date last night hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped. I felt the low, bubbling excitement of the gate guard at the prospect of her upcoming birthday party. All the little pieces of emotion that made up a whole life - a life I didn't get to have.

I'd had a life like that, once. So had he. And there was still an echo of our lost lives inside each of us, buried deep, even if neither of us could remember them.

I wasn't sure where the words had come from. It was a poem, or maybe a song lyric. The rhythm of the phrase said that these words weren't mine - that I'd heard them somewhere before. I had no memory of where. How I'd recalled them at all was a mystery.

there's a theory

that says you don't exist

unless someone calls

and you respond

But regardless of where they had come from, they were true words. Deeply true, in a way that resonated through the hollow in my chest, where my heart used to be.

Here, in this place, I did not exist. Neither of us did. Our bodies and our minds were assets that belonged to our captors. They were tools to be used. But I - I, the person, the human, the sentience that filled the mind and the body and the spaces in between - I did not exist here. I couldn't remember ever existing.

And then the silence of isolation was broken with a call and a response. I weren't sure whose was the call and whose the response. It didn't matter. It was the exchange. The recognition. I feel you. You exist.

This was Pierce's mistake. The act of sharing and mirroring emotion was not so simple or shallow as creating a general sense of calm. Oh, the Winter Soldier did calm - that much was true. The tension began to unwind from his muscles. His rate of his breaths slowed, and each inhale became deeper. He raised his head to meet my gaze, and his expression smoothed out of that twisted snarl into something more neutral.

But the emotions shared between us were nothing subdued or submissive. If anything, his rage ran deeper now than it ever had before. This was not calm. This was control. This was patience. No longer a machine of blind instinct, he remembered how to be human again.

And in return, he gave me fire. There was an old coal of anger that still lived in my chest. It had long since gone cold; what was the point in fighting to defend a life like this? But his rage was something worth fighting for. A hot flame sparked under my breastbone, coming to life once more under the bright radiance of his fury.

The cell door opened behind me with the sound of nails against a chalkboard. A man in a lab coat stepped inside, followed by two men in black riot gear with stun guns. The doctor was holding a needle, shaking in his trembling hands. Terror rolled off of him in waves so powerful that it made me feel ill.

The Winter Soldier never once looked away from me as the doctor approached. His eyes remained fixed on my face, holding my gaze with such intensity that it was as if nothing else existed - or nothing else worthy of recognition, perhaps. He hadn't looked to the cell door when it opened. He didn't flinch when the doctor pressed the needle into his arm. He didn't move. He didn't resist. He just stared until the two guards took me by my arms and led me from the cell.

--------

"I thought this was supposed to make him less dangerous." The guard to my left jostled me carelessly as he turned his attention to the guard flanking my right. It was as if I wasn't even there. "I heard the doc they sent in after the last meeting ended up with both his legs broken. And he was lucky the team managed to taze the bastard before it got even worse."

The right guard just shrugged. "I dunno. I guess it'll take a couple of meetings before the effect lasts after she leaves. Let the eggheads figure that stuff out and just do your job, man."

When they pushed me through the cell door again, I expected to meet the injured animal again, to feel that white coal of rage. He looked just as he had when I walked in the last time. His hands were not so covered in blood, but he looked just as coiled with tension, just as eager for violence.

Yet, despite what the guards were saying, I could feel clarity in him still. If anything, he seemed more controlled than he had at the end of our last encounter - no longer neutral, his control over his body language was absolute. The stiff, defensive posture were not instinct, this time. Was he doing it on purpose, then? And then, in response my confusion, I felt a faint, warbling thread of amusement from him. It was intentional. He was playing with them, misleading them. Convincing them to bring me back to him.

I want to see you. I want to know you. I feel real when you are near.

Yet again, I felt the spark of something within me that I hadn't felt in memory. And this time, it was something warm. Something good. Delight.

There was something delicious about the idea that the toy might have learned to play with his captors in return, even in such a small way. The warmth in my chest bloomed suddenly brighter. It wasn't anger - the heat was too gentle to be fire. And then I realized it wasn't mine: it was his pleasure at my approval.

Somewhere, buried deep under all the drugs, the obedience beaten into him, the feelings beaten out of him, the pain and the lost identity, I found the fragile shape of the man he used to be, once; the faint impression of a wicked wit and charm.

I felt the same mirrored in him - some vague sense of who I had been, once. It was small, hidden away under the layers of pain and loss, but undeniably there. Though him, I saw a piece of myself; a sense of justice that remained, even chipped and battered as it was, unbroken.

How long since I had known myself? It is difficult to understate the pleasure of knowing who you are, in even such a small way, after being nothing and no one for so very, very long.

--------

Pierce leaned back in his chair with a long groan, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "So she does stabilize him, but only while she's in the same room?"

Dr Hardy winced and nodded. "And when he's alone, his emotional instability is getting worse."

"We should end this experiment now, before he gets even worse."

The doctor shook her head. "Well, no, I don't think that's a wise choice. He's nearly useless as an asset on his own in this state already, so the risk we take by continuing to try to the Winter Envoy to stabilize him is very low. I have a promising new idea; if we leave them together for a more extended period of time, it may help recover his long-term stability because his emotions won't be swinging so often between states."

Pierce glowered at her. "We better not lose the Winter Soldier over this, doctor."

She nodded quickly. "I understand, sir. We'll begin the next stage of the program immediately."

---------

Maybe one day, I would have the chance to ask him for his name. But then again, maybe he wouldn't have an answer. Maybe he didn't know. I didn't know my own name, either.

The guards and the doctors called him the Winter Soldier. But that was the name given by our captors. That was the name for the hollow tool they tried to make of him. It was not a name for him. And besides, it was too cold for a man whose emotions felt like fire against my skin.

We never spoke, not even when we were together for hours. It was too dangerous to risk one of the guards overhearing something that they didn't like. Besides, we didn't need to speak - the better part of communication was emotion, anyway. Words weren't necessary. Even if it meant I couldn't ask his name.

The cell door opened behind me. Tension crawled up my spine and settled easily against the rumbling, defensive anger that flowed out of him in response. He didn't know why I was afraid - only that I was, every time, in that moment just before one of the guards entered the cell to take me away.

I was afraid of one guard in particular. None of them were kind, but this one enjoyed being cruel to me. The others all knew, of course - how could they not, when they could all feel my fear of him? They didn't care. But despite their disregard, it was still always a relief to turn around and see a face that didn't belong to the sadist.

Except, today, that was the very face smirking down at me.

It all happened so fast. The little spark of panic flashed in my chest. Even had I wanted to hide it, there was nothing I could have done. The next instant, he - my fire and now my protector, too - was standing in front of me, blocking my view of the guard. There was barely any movement, hardly a sound. There was just the dull thump of the guard, suddenly limp, crumpling at his feet with a broken neck.

I felt his uncertainty in the silent moment that followed. He hadn't really considered what would come next, after he removed the threat. I expected that uncertainty to bloom into panic, especially when panic of my own began to claw its way up my throat, worse even, than when I'd seen the guard. What would they do to him for this? They would take him away from me. I would never see him again. Never exist again.

And yet, despite the way my terror hammered against him, he snapped suddenly into that particular sense of calm that come from the comfort of familiarity. The tactics of violence and survival were things he understood well. He was not afraid. My terror eased, just a little. I could breathe again. I didn't need my own certainty - I could feel his.

He bent down to take the gun from the guard's body. Then, after a moment's thought, he pulled the vest from the guard, too. Then he straightened, checked the chamber of the gun, and held the vest out for me to put on.

"We're leaving." His voice sounded like gravel, so rough from disuse that it was difficult to even make out the words. But I didn't need to hear them - he wanted me close, and so close I would remain.

The cell door hung open, and I had the sense from him that chaos would erupt the moment we stepped out without the guard. Escape. We needed a way outside.

Well. I could help with that. Down the hall, out of the prison wing, turn right, and find a door. Some of the support staff used it sometimes. I felt that heady combination of nerves and relief when they were approaching it, and I smelled the lingering cigarette smoke when they came back - a faster way out for a smoke break, but one they weren't supposed to use. It wasn't well-guarded, so it probably led to a roof or something equally inaccessible, but it was still better than trying to weave through the entire complex to use the guarded main entrance.

No one expected us to actually try to leave. The alarm didn't even go off until we were out of the prison wing entirely.

Six people. He killed six people on the way out, and never even broke stride. Death wasn't supposed to be beautiful, but he was. It was the way he moved. Every time I'd seen him before, he was tense, stiff, almost lumbering. I had no idea he could move like this. Was this what dancing looked like? It should be. He was a masterpiece of precision, control, and absolute certainty in his actions.

No hesitation. No guilt. It wasn't that he enjoyed killing them. Each time a guard came down the hall, there was a simple choice to be made; he could kill the guard, or the guard would kill us. It was never a question, and there would never be a regret.

Beyond the door was not an exit - it was a window. It looked out into an alley. We were on the third floor. The window was open, the sill littered with cigarette butts. Not even the clinging stench of stale, cheap tobacco could ruin the miracle of breathing fresh air.

I felt it, the moment he judged that he could make the jump. Standing next to the window, he turned to reach for me, but there was a moment of hesitation just before his hands made contact with my skin. For just a beat, I wasn't sure why. Then I realized with a start that he was waiting for permission. I almost laughed - as if I would ever refuse him, as if I would ever choose to stay here, no matter what he asked me to do in the escape.

He did laugh, then, once he understood the nature of my surprise. It was a short, rough sound - almost a cough. But it was there, and the current of amusement underneath washed over me as he swept me off my feet. Then there was nothing but air, and I was glad for the way the wind tore the breath from my lungs, or else I might have screamed and alerted someone. He hit the ground hard and stumbled a few steps before he set me back on my feet.

Escape. Out of sight. Hurry, so close.

He didn't let go of my hand. Into the alley, around the corner. It didn't matter where we were going. Only that it was away from that place.

----------

He knew where to find an old dead drop of cash. I found a generous soul willing to lend us a change of clothes. A quick white lie to the clerk at the hotel front desk, and now, finally, there was warmth and quiet, and there was a locked door between us and the rest of the world. It wasn't safety, not really. I wasn't sure if we'd ever really be safe from people like them. But it was something close. It was good enough for tonight.

And we were free.

I expected to feel joy. Elation. Giddiness. But instead, as the last of the adrenaline drained away, there was nothing rose in its place. Just a void that had been filled with so much fear and pain for so long that, now that they were gone, all that was left was an aching emptiness. Could I even remember how to feel anything with enough power to fill that hollow? Anything other than fear?

And so it was fear that began to crawl back in to fill the vacuum. Fear that I had been irreparably broken. Fear that, after all I had suffered, freedom promised nothing more than this suffocating, blank nothing in my heart.

But it was only for a moment. He caught my wrist and I turned to him: sitting on the edge of the bed, staring up at me with the same cold dread on his face that was threatening to choke me. The ratcheting rate of my heart slowed just a little. I didn't have to face the void alone.

Call and response. I see you. I know you. I feel you. I exist with you.

I felt the spark in my chest. That was source of the ember and the fire. It burned with rage when we were captives, in defiance against those who would snuff out our humanity. But now that the threat was gone, the fire was still there. It was no longer a furious defiance, but rather a desire for confirmation - I exist when I am seen, heard, felt, touched.

Touch me. I want to feel alive.

His grip on my wrist loosened. His fingers trailed slowly up my arm, leaving a ripple of goosebumps in their wake. It was only the barest of touches, but it didn't need to be anything more.

Maybe this desire was already there, and it was only now that we noticed it. Or maybe it really had only crashed into us in this moment, to fill this void of fear with all the sudden force that I felt as it knocked the breath from my lungs. It filled the hollow in my chest and didn't stop - his desire fed mine fed his fed mine again, until, barely a breath later, every inch of my skin yearned so strongly to be touched that to feel the empty air was almost a physical ache.

The next moment, he had me by the waist and we fell together into the bed, eager to kiss, to caress, to be made real together. Every sensation was so potent that each alone seemed unbearable, but to endure them together was a bliss all its own. Even the hot sting of lust denied held a certain gratifying delight, so we lingered in stillness, breathing each other in and reveling in unsated hunger.

It was pointless to ask whose passion first overcame patience - to do so would be to ask whose warmth was felt where skin met skin, or whose pleasure it was that brought us crashing over the edge, or whose sweat was left dotted and drying on my skin afterwards, as we lay tangled together and trying to catch our breaths.

It was ours. Always ours.

Even with my eyes closed, I knew he was looking at me. My cheek pillowed on his chest, I tipped my head up to meet his gaze; hooded, comfortable, soft. He was never meant to look at anyone this way again. This was a sort of victory all its own.

A smile tugged on his lips. "And I don't even know your name." There it was again - the shape of his wit. Less fragile, this time.

I turned to press my lips against his shoulder, muffling my laughter against his skin. "That's alright. Neither do I."

"Then what should I call you?"

I was in no hurry to answer. We were wrapped up, safe and lost, in the infinite hours before dawn. "I'm not sure," I answered softly. I trailed my fingers along the lines of his metal arm. I had not expected it to be so warm. "I've never had a name before. Not one I remember, at least."

I meant to press a kiss to the edge of his jaw when I looked up at him again. He knew what I intended the moment he felt the surge of my affection. He turned to catch my lips, pleasure and affection and amusement mingling between us. His teeth grazed my lip, pulling a whimper unbidden from my chest - and then another as I felt the intensity of his reaction to even so small a sound. The intoxication of desiring and being desired in return swept over us again. On my back as the kiss was broken, I was pinned to the bed by his weight as we fought to catch our breaths. Was it normal, such intensity from nothing more than a kiss? Or was this a particular luxury of us feeling and feeding the passions of the other?

I was surprised to find a growing ache in my chest, but I understood suddenly why he wanted my name. There was a nameless thing that needed to be expressed, and the only way to express it would be to speak his name like a chant, a confession, a prayer. Because it is you who I feel here with me. You who reminded me that I am real. You whose emotions fit with mine like two halves of a whole. You. You. Only you.

I wanted to know his name, whatever it might be for now. "What should I call you, then?"

I could feel the shape of his words brushing against my lips as he answered; "The only thing I can remember being called is 'Soldier'."

My revulsion was fiercer than even I expected. "That is a name for the tool they tried to turn you into, not for the man you are."

His gaze was soft as he looked down at me, and I felt the sweetness wrap around his heart at the hearing the contrast given voice. "Not even if I'm your soldier?"

"You're not," I whispered. "You're free. You'll have no orders from me."

"Then not a soldier," he answered, his voice a low rumble that I felt against my chest as he kissed me once more. "Just yours."

#fanfic #fanfiction #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes #winter soldier #bucky x reader

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