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#I really don't like movies that much or at all
wandussyfantasy · 3 days
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request (i hope its still open)
powerbottom!Wanda x Beefy G!P reader
(this is gonna be kinda long and dirty so be prepared)
Reader and Wanda are both college students who have been mutual pining each other, Wanda tells Nat that she likes reader and really wants to get down and dirty with them but doesn't know what to do Nat gives Wanda these chocolates (which is like those sex Viagra chocolate things) and tells Wanda to invite reader over for a movie night and share the chocolate, and that leads to hella sexual tension and they both can't hold it in anymore and fuck, Wanda rides readers abs and also handcuffs reader to the bed and she teases reader a lot and after a while reader just wants to touch Wanda so bad that they break the handcuffs which turns Wanda on even more and they fuck hard, lots of overstimulation and maybe some breeding (also maybe some fluff at the end as well as reader wants to live in this moment forever so reader uses Wanda's polaroid cam to take a pic of her naked and saves it in their wallet)
sorry this is long but if you do decide to write it just have fun with it and add your own stuff as well, love your fics <3
Study Date
Summary: Wanda and Reader have wanted each other for so long. Natasha, being the good friend that she is, helps the two speed things along and realize just how much they want each other.
Pairings: Wanda x NB!AMAB!Reader
Word Count: 4,767
WARNINGS:
18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!
smut, gn!reader shapeshifter, powerbottom!lwanda, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, fantasies, teasing, foreplay, and creampie.
𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
“Hey Wanda, I noticed you weren't in class today. I thought I'd lend you my notes,” you say as you hand the pretty girl from your expository writing class your notebook. She smiles as she accepts your offering. 
“Awe, you're so sweet! You didn't have to do that! Thank you, I'll type this up and get it back to you as soon as possible,” she says. You smile back and tell her to take her time. The conversation falls flat but you don't want to stop talking to her. You stand there awkwardly as you try to think of something to keep the conversation going. Wanda was doing the same, she didn't want you to leave. She wanted to keep talking to you. She always wants to talk to you. “Hey, I heard there is going to be a party this weekend. My brother is hosting it so I'm going to be there and so will other people. Because it's a party! And that's how… anyway are you going?” Wanda asks nervously as she fiddles with the notebook in her hands. Natasha tries her best to not be repulsed by Wanda’s bad attempt at asking you out. She had no idea that her friend was crushing so hard on someone, let alone you. 
“Nah, I have a lot of studying to do,” you reply without giving the invitation much thought. “Maybe another time? This semester has been kicking my ass and I might lose my scholarship if I don't get my grades up.” You admit as you shift on your feet awkwardly. 
Wanda frowns and looks hopeless. Natasha rolls her eyes and then cuts in. “Wanda is a fantastic tutor,” she says. “Maybe you should ask her to tutor you,” she spells it out for you when all you said was cool. 
“I mean. Um. Would you have time to? I would really appreciate it,” you say as you gesture at Wanda. 
“Uh,” she looks at her friend.
“She is available tonight,” Natasha offers up. “I have plans so she’ll be alone in the dorm.” Natasha scribbles down information on a piece of paper and hands it off to you. “Let’s go,” she grabs Wanda and pulls her away. 
“See you later!” You shout at them as they leave. 
Natasha shakes her head as they continue to walk away. “That was pathetic,” she says to her friend. “I know you’re new to flirting but,” she starts as she opens the door for their dorm building. “That was not flirting. That was just… sad.” 
Wanda shakes her head, “I know. I know. I’ve never liked anyone the way I like Y/n before. I want them in ways that I’ve never wanted anyone before.” She presses her palm to her forehead as she blushes.  
“Like, losinging your v-card type of want?” Natasha’s eyes widen as her voice lowers while they walk to the elevators. “You hardly wanted to lose it to your Vision! And you were with him for three years!” 
“I know!” Wanda says as they enter the elevator. “But gosh, there is something about Y/n that has me,” she stops as someone enters the elevator. She puts her hand on Natasha’s shoulder and sends her a mind message to continue the conversation privately. “I’ve had several wet dreams about Y/n since I saw them running around the track field shirtless.” 
Natasha looks at Wanda with wide eyes and thinks, “They had their titties out on the field?” 
Wanda shakes her head. “No, they have a shapshifting ability. It’s why they prefer they/them pronouns because they can shift their physical appearance to how they feel they that day. And that day it was a male chest and it was strong and sweaty and-”
“Ok! I don’t need to know anymore. But that is quite an ability, I’m sure a lot of gender nonconforming people would love to have an ability like that.” She said out loud as they stepped out of the elevator. Wanda agreed. 
“I think they can do more but I could hardly focus. I started to imagine the possibilities and I was just happy mind reading isn’t one of their abilities.” Wanda says as they enter the dorm. 
“I’m glad it’s not an ability of mine either,” Natasha says as she opens the mini fridge. She flips through the different types of chocolate bars that she owns and smiles when she finds the one she it looking for. “I’ve been saving this for a rainy day and honey, it’s getting pretty cloudy.” She hands the chocolate bar over to Wanda. 
“Oh, I’ve been craving chocolate all day!” Natasha stops her roommate from eating the candy.
“Woah, not so fast. Wait for your date tonight. Share it with Y/n,” she suggests. 
“Why?” Wanda makes a weird face as she tries to figure out what is special about the unlabeled candy. 
“Just trust me,” Natasha quickly puts on a special bracelet that prevents anyone with telepathic or empathic abilities from entering her mind and she smiles as she flashes it at Wanda. “The less you know, the better.” She starts to gather her belongings. “I will be out all night. I gave Y/n your phone number so you should be receiving a text or something soon.” She looks around the room to assure herself that she has everything she needs. “Good luck, Wanda. I hope it all goes well. Just please don’t use my bed.” 
Wanda rolled her eyes at the bracelet and smiled at her friends departing words. The hug each other, “Thank you.” Natasha leaves the room. Wanda flops onto her bed as she waits for you to text her. She thinks about the times she’s seen you half-naked and sweating. How she’s wished to have your body on top of hers. Wanda bites her bottom lip as she fights the urge to slip her fingers between her legs and imagine that they are yours. 
Her phone pings with a notification and she springs up to look at it. It’s you asking what time you should arrive. She licks her lips she tries to make a flirty response but she ends up cringing at everything she types. She settles on just telling you to meet her an hour from now and flops back onto her bed with a sigh. She needed to get it together because in anhour you would be in her room and you needed tutoring. And some how she needed to work in sharing the mysterious chocolate bar with you. 
Wanda changed into something a little more suggestive and flashed on a set of lingerie underneath, just in case she became brave enough to try something with you. She cleaned up the room a bit and lit a candle that was enchanted to keep sound in any room that it was lit in. She doesn’t know why but she has a feeling she’s going to get her way and she won’t be quiet about it when she does. 
“Smells nice in here,” You say as you enter Wanda’s room. She shuts the door behind you. 
“Thank you, it’s a new candle I made. I kind of got into the trend,” she says sheepishly as she stands behind you. There wasn’t room for a sofa in the dorm room so there isn’t one. There was only beds and desk chairs as seating options. “You can sit at my desk,” she points to the desk that is between the beds. 
“Thanks,” you say with a blush, “Um, if you’re selling your candles, I would love to buy some from you.” Wanda’s cheeks flush bright pink as well as she sits on her bed. 
“I think I have a couple that I can gift you,” she smiles as she gets comfortable. “Alright, so what subject are we starting with?” She asks as you are pulling assignments out of your bookbag and setting them on her desk. She looks at the chocolate bar that was left on her bed and tries to think of how she can offer it to you without it seeming weird. 
“Um chemistry has been brutal,” you say as you organize yourself. You try to keep your eyes on the work in front of you because her shirt was tighter than the one you saw her in a couple of hours ago. It was hard enough to be around her when she had loose fitting clothing on. Now that it was accentuating her chest, you thought you might pass out. 
“Chemistry happens to be my strongest subject!” Wanda says as she leans over to look at your papers. She quickly gets into helping learn the formulas that you struggled with as well as a lot of the vocabulary that you had mixed up. Deep into the study session, Wanda starts to mindlessly break off pieces of the chocolate bar and eat it. 
You accept the pieces that she offers and by the time you've moved onto math, the chocolate bar is gone. You start to feel even hornier than when first walked in but you try to focus on the subject.
“It's kind of hot in here,” Wanda says as she fans herself with her hand. She doesn't know why but her body is on fire. Her clothes feel horrible on her skin but she can't take it off. Not with you here. Oh but she wishes she could convince you to take your clothes off. 
“Yeah, it um it is,” you shift uncomfortably as your eyes land on her glistening chest. Wanda’s eyes are glued to your chest as well. The sweat on your body was causing the white fabric of your shirt to become see through. The shirt was clinging to your abs, exposing your six-pack. “Maybe I should um-” 
“Fuck me,” Wanda gasps out as she bites her lips. “I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from I-” You cut her off with your lips. Finally kissing her after spending the past few years pining for her. Wanda responds to the kiss just as eagerly. She pulls on your shirt to pull you closer to her until you land on top of her. Your body against hers on her bed. She couldn't think of anything but your lips and your body. She needs you. She needs you now. 
“Are you sure,” you try to slow down your kisses. “We can stop at any moment,” you say as you try to catch your breath. Her lips start sucking on your neck and you let out a soft loud groan. 
“Why would I want to do that?” She says as she rips your shirt in the middle. You are surprised by her urgency. You didn't know that Wanda even liked you. “Wow,” Wanda gasps as she admires your naked chest. She unhooks your bra and her eyes grow hungrier at the sight. You get rid of the rest of the fabric of your shirt and toss it to the floor. You roll off of Wanda and lay next to her to start to get rid of your pants. You had most of your abilities down but when it came to sexual urges, there was one thing you couldn't control completely. That was the cock that is currently growing and will soon be straining against your jeans. 
But before you can unbuckle your belt, Wanda climbs onto your chest and kisses you on the mouth again. “I have an idea,” she says against your lips as she holds your face in her delicate hands. 
“Mmm, please share,” you say as you kiss along her jaw. She maneuvers you so that you are laying properly on the bed. Then with magic, she chains you to the bed. Wanda removes her tight shirt and short shorts to reveal the red lace bra and the black thong. Your eyes widen at her lingerie. You never thought in your wildest dreams that you would be here. 
Wanda straddles your hips and you groan at the contact of her skin against yours. Her thighs rest against your sides. Her pussy juices drip through her thong and land on your stomach as she starts to gyrate her hips on your abs. You watch her breasts bounce as she moves on your abdomen and you lick your lips as you think about touching her. About sucking on her breasts. Licking her smooth stomach. Wanda puts her hand on your breasts as she continues to use your abs to create friction. You moan as she plays with your nipples. She makes eye contact with you as she leans in close to you. She makes you think she's good to kiss you but then her hips slide down and her pussy starts to ride your bulge as her lips kiss your neck. 
“Fuck” you his as her lips move to your collarbone. She sucks on your skin lightly as she makes shapes with her tongue. You imagine her sucking your cock and it causes you to thrust your hips into her middle. She yelps and looks at you. Her pupils have taken over her emerald eyes as she takes your breast into her mouth. “Wanda,” you beg as you thrust your hips up again. She takes her mouth off of your chest as she sits up again. Teasing you by slowly removing her bra. You groan again as you fight against your magical restraints. When her breasts are exposed, Wanda drops her hands to your belt. She unbuckles the accessory and unbuttons your jeans. She pulls your zipper down and stops there. 
Wanda drags her fingers at the top of the waistband of your boxers. She is driving you crazy. When she slips her fingers into your boxers you can't take it anymore. With your super strength, you break the magic handcuffs off and grab Wanda and flip the two of you so that you're on top. “That was hot,” Wanda says as she kisses you again. 
You get lost in her lips as your hands touch her everywhere. You have them on her hips then on her breasts then on her ass. Her skin is so soft and you want to touch every inch of her. You begin to suck on her neck as you move to explore her body with your lips. She sighs and moans when you reach especially sensitive spots on her body. Her hands continue to trace the ridges of your chest. You drop her breast from your mouth and grin. “You like what you feel?” 
Wanda blushes as she grows a bit shy. “I’ve been dreaming about them,” she says with pink cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just want to appreciate them while I have them.” She reaches up and kisses your neck. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she starts to suck on your neck again. Her hands start to trail further down your body. She starts to push your pants and underwear further down until your cock bounces out. You moan from the relief. Her eyes widen at the sight. Her ex-boyfriend was a super computer that looked like a Ken-doll in the private area. She’s only seen dicks online and none of them come close to what is laying against her stomach. She couldn’t imagine how it was supposed to fit inside her virgin hole. She is surprised that fear isn’t controlling her nearly as much as it has in the past. But she can’t keep the thought as you roll your hips and the base of your cock grazes her clitoris just right. Her lips latch to yours again. You are typically someone that likes to take it slow but something has your body buzzing with energy and taking over your actions. 
Wanda’s hand wraps around your cock and you roll your hips into her soft hand. You have imagined her jerking you off before. It was in a car or in a closet or at a movie and it was always after or during a date. It wasn’t this fast, or this amazing. Your hand doesn’t compare to hers. You have to pull away as you feel yourself near your edge. 
“I’ve dreamt about you too,” you whisper against her lips. You fall lower on her body until your head is between her thighs. You kiss her left thigh first then her right. Wanda wimpers each time your lips press against her thighs. With your tongue you trace letters along her thighs claiming her as yours. “I’ve wanted to be in this position since I saw you at the freshman mixer,” you admit as you drag your tongue along the crevice between her thigh and vulva on her right side. “But you were taken for two  more years after that.”  You lick the left side and Wanda licks her lips as she watches you tease her. 
“Now I’m yours,” she says desperatley, “I’m all yours.” Her fingers lock into your short hair as she pulls you closer to her pussy. “Show me your deepest desires, Y/n.” You nod as you put your mouth on her entrance. You slip your tongue inside of her and use your abilities to have a deeper reach. Wanda’s eyes widen at the sensations as she feels your tongue wiggling inside of her. You feel a wall as you extend your tongue further and your eyes widen as you shrink your tongue to it’s normal size. 
You pull away and ask, “Are you a virgin?” Wanda grows shy again and tries to hide her face in her pillows. “It’s okay to be it’s just, are you sure you want to… with me… like this?” You say as you crawl up her body and remove the pillow from her face. “I just don’t want you to regret your decision later if there are reasons you waited this long,” you tell her softly. 
Wanda gazes into your eyes and takes your hand and brings it close to her. She kisses the palm of your hand as she holds eye contact and then places your hand over her heart. “I'm sure,” she answers softly. Then she pushes you back so that you lay on the bed. She pulls your pants and boxers all the way off and tosses them behind her. “I want you so bad right now, Y/n. I've wanted you for a long time.” She says as she moves her hands up your thighs until they meet in the middle to give attention to your cock again. She kisses the tip of your penis. Her soft plush lips send shivers down your spine just before she wraps them around the bulbous head. Your head falls back as she deep throats your cock. Taking as much as shee can down her throat without gagging. You’ve never seen that before. You can’t believe it. Wanda removes her mouth and you lift your head back up to watch her. “I don’t have a gag reflex,” Wanda smirks. You make a confused expression and Wanda giggles. She taps her temple, “Mind reader.” 
You sit up on your elbows, “Hold on,” you stop her from sucking your cock again. “You’re telling me that you’re more than a witch?” You shake your head. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry for what you saw today. I promise, I like you for more than-”
“No, I don’t… I didn’t read your mind earlier. I,” she crawls up your body and sits on your chest again. She holds your face as she tries to explain her abilities. “I don’t like to know what other people are thinking so I take something that decreases my ability to read peoples minds. I can only read your mind when I’m touching you. I wasn’t doing that earlier,” she explains. 
A slow smile graces your lips. You move your fingers a long the length of her arms. “Does that mean you’re seeing what I’m thinking about now.” You take the palm of her hand and press your lips against her soft skin. The hitch in her breath is enough to let you know that she can see exactly what you intend to do with her tonight. “And what do you think?” 
Wanda leans in close to your lips and whispers, “I already told you to show me your deepest desires. So stop stalling.” She meets your lips in a slow, deep, kiss. Every time she kissed you she felt the effects of something grow stronger. She couldn’t place where it was coming from but she has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with that chocolate that Nathasha was being so weird about. It didn’t matter anymore. She was so close to having exactly what she wants. 
“Yes, ma’am,” you say with a raspy voice as you kiss her back. You move your hands down her body and rip her thong off of her. You aim the tip of your penis at her entrance and slip just the tip in to tease her as the two of you continue to kiss. You pump in her softly, slowly stretching her out with your girthy cock. Wanda’s mouth falls open as you slip inside her previously untouched walls further. You move your kisses from her lips to her cheeks then to her neck. Her hands move from your face to your shoulders as she helps you lower her further onto your throbbing rod. Her nails start to dig into your skin and it causes you to lose control of your thrust as you break her hymn in one strong thrust. 
“Holy shit,” she gasps. “I can feel you,” she says as you lick the sweat off from her collarbone. “You’re stretching me,” she moans as you thrust further into her. “I’m so full with your cock,” she continues and you groan as you bring her breast into your mouth. You get the full length of your dick inside of Wanda’s tight walls and you nearly bust a nut from how amazing she feels around you. “It feels so good,” she says while she moves her hips. You smile with your mouth full of her boobs. Then you drop it with a plop as you grab her hips.
You begin to pump inside of Wanda and fuck her as hard as you can. She is shocked by the pleasure she is feeling from such force but she is far from complaining about it. “Yes!” She screeches out as you pound her pussy with your thick meat. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She pulls you closer to her by wrapping her both arms around you. “Fuck you’re in so deep! Oh fuck! It’s so good! Fuck me Y/n! Fuck me!” She shouts as she continues to ride your cock while your hips slam into her. 
Your thrusts get so erratic that your cock slips out of her hole and you have to stop your hips from moving. You flip the two of you so that you are laying on top of her before you enter her again. “Ah fuck your pussy is so good, Wanda,” you moan as you enter her tight wet walls that is gripping your dick and pulling you further inside of her. “I’ve never done it raw before. Oh my gosh this feels amazing!” You say as rock your hips into Wanda. The sensitive skin on your penis is feeling every inch of her and you can’t believe any of this is real. 
“I’m so close,” Wanda gasps as her nails start to dig into your back. You didn’t know that you’d enjoy that feeling as much as you do. It drives you to speed up your thrusts again as you rub her clitoris with your thumb. 
“Cum for me,” you tell her and watch as her eyes roll back and her chest arches up into yours and feel as her walls squeeze the life out of your cock as if her body was trying to milk you. She screams out as she rides the waves of her orgasm. You don’t stop playing with her clitoris even after her body falls limp. 
“Don’t stop,” she says as she enjoys the over stimulation. You continue to rub her bundle of nerves while you pump your cock into her. 
“I’m, fuck, I’m close,” you warn her. “Don’t, mphm, worry. I’ll pull out,” you grunt out as you start to slow down your thrusts. That’s when Wanda’s legs wrap around your waist and lock you in. “Wanda what are you-” 
Wanda pulls you into a deep kiss. She dances her fingers along your jaw as you try to pull away. “Cum inside me,” she whispers. You head starts to shake but the request is too delicious that your eyes roll back as your cum starts to flow out of you and flood her pussy. “Mmm I can feel you pulsing inside of me,” she says as your cock empties inside of her. When you stop erupting, you try to pull out but Wanda shakes her head. “Not yet,” she says, “I don’t want to feel empty just yet.” You nod as you keep the two of you connected and sigh as you lay your head on her naked chest. Your limp body laying on top of hers. She is combing her fingers through your sweaty hair. “That was amazing,” she kisses your forehead. 
You give her a lazy smile with your eyes still closed, “It was. I wish we could live in this moment forever.” 
“I’ll allow it,” she responds softley. “But you’ll have to promise that you won’t want to be with anyone else.”
You make a face, “That’s an easy promise.” You lean up and kiss her cheek. “There is no one I’d rather be with.” You grab her hand and lay it on your chest over your heart. “You can even scan my mind. Sure, I’ve slept with people in the past. But I’ve always wanted to be with you. No one has ever invaded my mind the way you have.” 
Wanda bites her lip and sighs. “I don’t have to search your mind. I trust you.” She kisses your lips. 
After an hour of laying in her bed, connected to each other, you eventually pull out of her. Some of your cum flows out when you do and Wanda catches some on her fingers. She sucks them clean and you almost get hard again. But you manage to control yourself since you’re no longer under the influence of whatever you were under. You grab her polaroid camera from the top of her dresser and you point it at her. She gets shy and pulls some of her sheets over her body. She covers her face with her long light brown hair and you snap a picture. You wave it to help develop the image even though you know it doesn’t really do much. 
You smile as you look down at the image a year later when you’re getting ready for your wedding. You put the image in your wallet again and it’s still there when you’re racing Wanda to the hospital to deliever the babies. You glance at it when you’re sitting with her in the nursery as you remember the first time you got to have the most wild sex with Wanda and think about how the chocolate her best friend gave her led to all of this. Natasha confessed to what she did in her maid of honor toast. You have it with you on your tenth wedding anniversary and show it to Wanda during the special dinner. She blushes as she remembers how things used to be before the two of you became parents. Although she still made enchanted candles, the Tommy and Billy were quite disruptive with nightmares and bedwetting. It made moments that the two of you wer alone long enough to have sex that much more special. 
“You still have this?” Wanda asks as she was looking for cash to pay the pizza guy for the twins fifteenth birthday party. 
“Babe, I will carry this in my wallet until the day I die,” you tell her and give her a sweet kiss before running the pizza boxes over to the insatiable teenagers. Wanda paid the man and smiled to herself as she admired her younger form. She kept herself quite fit and so did you, but she couldn’t help but think that some areas were tighter in the picture than they’ll ever be again. She puts it back into your wallet so that you can keep your promise and you do. 
The End.
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hotvintagepoll · 22 hours
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Do you have any opinions on modern (post-1970s) movies that you feel capture the essence (in a good way) of Old Movies?
No, unfortunately. That doesn't mean I don't like modern movies or that modern movies aren't good, but modern movies—and here I'm really using modern to mean post-2010, so contemporary movies—have different standards for pacing, characterization, budget, and production that make it harder (or impossible) to capture some of the magic of old movies. Even when modern movies clearly try to emulate that old-movie feeling—I'm thinking of La La Land, The Artist, The Shape of Water, In the Heights—they play the homage too broadly, or they ignore crucial components that make the original films work.
There's kind of too much to go into here without writing a full essay, but essentially, the Old Hollywood system—ugly, failed beast as she was—made some movies simply more accessible to make, due to the ongoing storage of props, sets, master craftsmen, crew, and onscreen talent that could move from one movie to the next without pause. If you needed a dancer, he was already on staff. If you needed a fancy bed, it was already in the warehouse. That kind of longterm storage is invaluable if you want to crank out movies quickly and cheaply because it saves so much time on individual negotiation and sourcing. Modern production companies have to work out individual contracts for every actor on every film; crew members have to negotiate rental contracts and source pieces from scratch; if you need someone with specialist skills, you have to contract them specially at a high rate, which a lot of small companies can't (or won't) budget to do. There's sand in the wheels where there needn't be any. It's wasteful, and costly, but that's the system modern movies are made with.
Which all means that even if the modern movie system wanted to make a classic movie musical just like the old ones, they couldn't, because the talent isn't already there—it hasn't been trained up enough, and there's not that breadth of knowledge you can only get from people who have been allowed to work in the same department in the same place for decades. Movies like La La Land fail, for me, because they present themselves as descendants of Fred Astaire or Busby Berkley movies, while missing the bit where Fred Astaire was a master of his craft. When you watch Fred Astaire dance—or Moira Shearer, or the Nicholas Brothers, or Ann Miller—you are watching a true artist at work, purposely showcased by the studios because they already have them on contract. Modern movies, on the other hand, tend to take people who already have star talent (as actors) and try to convert them into dancers/singers—or they pull dancers/singers off of Broadway, but then they don't have the star power built in. You end up with lackluster musicals where no one truly knows what they're doing, or they do but they're not built up enough by the studios to sell. And that's me discussing just on-screen talent for musicals—there is a huge loss behind the scenes, as well, for all kinds of movies, where roles that would have been filled by union crew who moved continuously from one job to the next have been swapped for freelance labor who live with immense turnover, financial insecurity, and knowledge loss. You could hand me the budget and I could try to make an old movie, but the industry itself has changed so much it's impossible to recapture that charm of steady, niche talent, the amazing possibilities of bonkers set design, and the ability to take a risk on a smaller movie because the other films being produced by the same studio can help balance the budget.
I've talked way, way too much about all of this! Sorry, I just have a lot of thoughts—and the one above is just one of them; the talent loss and storage issues are only facets of a much bigger problem that extends to how we watch movies today, how we market them, what we expect of them, and what's allowed in them. It's a crying shame because the talent is still there, but times change and so does the industry, for better or for worse. (And, just again to clarify, I don't think modern movies are bad—they're just missing a lot of the juice old movies got to play with, even if there's more talent available than ever before.)
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sjyluv · 2 days
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in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you
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genres! fluff?, angst, celebrity x celebrity, ex-lovers
word count! 1380
warnings! mention of breakup, heartbreak
synopsis! in another life, you and park sunghoon are lovers, just not in this one
mimi’s note! this fic was inspired by a quote from the movie ‘everything everywhere all at once’ also I'm not very good at writing angst because I hate it but I did my best
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“Congrats, big shot,” a familiar voice says from behind you, and you can hear the teasing smile in his tone, “actress of the year award, you're in the big leagues now.”
You turn around to face Park Sunghoon, a renowned figure skater and your ex-boyfriend. You haven't seen each other in almost a year but the sight of him still has the same effect on you it did all those years ago.
He's hauntingly beautiful and you're a house of horrors.
You offer a polite smile, but it's bittersweet as if you were greeting death itself.
“Congratulations to you too, you're becoming a bit of an A-list yourself since you won the Olympics.” you quip, and you both know what kind of game you're going to play tonight.
It’s the same one you always play, the one where he pretends you didn’t break his heart and you pretend everything is fine.
Sunghoon smiles at you too, like you're everything he's ever had and everything he's ever lost.
“Maybe we should exchange autographs like middle schoolers trade Pokémon cards,” he says, and you both chuckle.
“Hmm, I have a feeling mines will be more valuable.”
He playfully puts a hand over his heart. “That’s hurtful, y/n, but I can’t deny that it’s also true.”
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The gala was still roaring with life when you stepped out for some fresh air, you sat on concrete stairs, not caring if you got your 20,000-dollar dress dirty. You couldn't care about a lot of things lately.
You and Sunghoon had long parted ways, the conversation only lasted about five minutes before you were seated at your respective tables, you didn't see him again after that.
You’ve gotten everything you ever dreamed of at this point in your career, and you accomplished all your goals, in the beginning, it all seemed so impossible, but now that you're here and you've done it, you’re not so sure what's left anymore.
The sound of the door opening catches your attention, a tall, pale figure steps out, dressed in a purely black suit, and you recognize him instantly.
“Following me?” you prop your chin in your palm as your elbow rests on your knee, carrying the weight of your head as you tilt it playfully.
He’s not startled by the suddenness of your voice, which tells you, yes, he was looking for you.
He smiled. “Maybe.”
He sat next to you on the stairs, not caring if his 5,000-dollar suit got dirty, though it wasn't actually because he didn't care about the suit, but because he just wanted to be close to you.
You're both silent for a while, simply appreciating being in each other's presence after so long.
Or maybe it's because you don't know what to say and he has too much to say, so you settle for the piercing silence of unsaid words.
Sunghoon has been silent his whole life, but he promised himself tonight he wouldn't be.
“Was it worth it?”
Ah. There it is.
You think as the corners of your lips curl upward, you knew this question was coming, you sensed it the moment you saw him again.
If he had asked you that a year ago you would’ve said yes, no hesitation, no second thoughts, just a straight-up yes, and you would have meant it too.
Suddenly the silk fabric of your dress starts to itch your skin, your diamond embroidered heels start to hurt your feet, and your pearl jewelry feels too heavy.
In only a single minute, Park Sunghoon has stripped you of your persona, called you out for the fraud you are, and seen the real you.
And he accepted you.
You lie to save your pride, it's a habit of yours that he knows all too well.
He doesn't think you're perfect, but you would never have to be for him to love you.
“Sometimes,” you say.
You don't bother lying, he’ll know.
You had always been a good liar until Sunghoon came into your life.
He gently nods in understanding at your response, “Do you ever think about it? About us?”
With a chuckle, you reply, “Of course I do.”
It's true that sometimes leaving him is worth the life you're living now, but there are fragments of times when you imagine what your life could've been with him.
In another life, you never left Sunghoon, you got married, bought a home together, adopted a dog, and had a child.
On the surface that sounds nice, but in another life, you are a housewife with broken dreams, you bought a home together but it wasn't the one you always dreamed of because you had to compromise with Sunghoon, you adopted a dog but you were never really an animal person, and you had a child but motherhood was never for you.
In another life, you are happy to be a housewife, you and Sunghoon bought your dream home together, you adopted a dog that you both love, you had a child and you are the most loving mother.
In another life, you are not a housewife, you and Sunghoon bought a home even better than your dream home, you adopted a dog but you're more of a cat person, and you never had a child but you always wanted to be a mother.
In another life, you and Sunghoon work from home, you bought a decent home together, and although it's not your dream one, it's good enough, you adopted a cat, and you never had a child but because that's the way you liked things.
In another life, you and Sunghoon are divorced, the home you bought together is just walls and a roof with painful memories, you don't adopt any pets, and you never had a child.
In another life, Sunghoon is a househusband, you don't care about having a dream home because any place is home with him, you adopted a dog and a cat, and you had a child who has everything they could ever want.
In another life, you and Sunghoon are teenagers again falling in love for the very first time, and you have no idea what the future holds for you.
In another life, you and Sunghoon are just a little bit younger than you are now, in the kitchen of your shared apartment, and you are trying to figure out how to do laundry so all your clothes don’t turn blue again and how to properly calculate your taxes so you don’t go to prison for tax fraud.
In another life, you and Sunghoon have grown old together, and you are experts at doing laundry and taxes.
In another life, you are the bottles of salt and pepper on the table of a random diner and things are entirely less complicated.
In another life, you never meet Park Sunghoon.
The possibilities are endless, and the truth is, you never know what will happen in your life, and that's scary, but you hope in another life you learn to accept the bad just as easily as you accept the good.
“What does it look like?” he asks.
“Laundry and taxes,” you shrug.
You both laugh at that.
“What about you?” you ask.
“Taxes and laundry,” he smiles.
You both laugh again.
The party inside is completely forgotten about as you and Sunghoon spend what feels like hours just sitting and talking, until the realization that it’s time to go home dawns on you.
Sunghoon gets up first, holding his hand out for you to take, and you do, but when he helps you to your feet he doesn't let go just yet, instead, he looks into your eyes and you feel his thumb caress your knuckles.
“It was nice to see you again, y/n.”
“It was good to see you again too, Sunghoon.”
He finally lets you go and you already miss his warmth.
He almost walks away but turns to face you one last time.
With a hint of a smile on his lips, he says, “You know, in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.”
And then Park Sunghoon walks out of your life forever, and you let him.
In another life, things didn't end that way.
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© 2024 sjyluv, all rights reserved | do not repost, translate, or plagiarize
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radioisntdead · 3 days
Text
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Too sweet
Alastor x gn reader,
Warnings!!
Mild ooc, reader is dessert themed also kinda imagining they have eyes that resemble 1930's animation but that's just me, casual backstory drop in the middle that's just never brought up again, death, pacing is a little off, Alastor is prepared with angelic steel this time! It does not help whatsoever!
Song: Too sweet
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It wasn't a secret that Alastor strongly disliked sweet things, it wasn't a complete hatred but he wouldn't willingly eat any, he preferred bitter things.
It can't be said I'm an early bird
You were as sweet as pure sugar, with that oh so charming smile of yours, your big ol' cartoony eyes, eccentric and positive attitude, not to mention you were quite literally dessert themed, Cake themed outfits, frosted purses, phone case adorned with spackled frosting, sprinkles and charms.
It's ten o'clock before I say a word
You were the most recent addition to the hotel, a few of the hotel's residents didn't quite understand how someone as sweet as you could've ended up in hell, it was theorized that maybe it was an act, a honey coated trap that would lead to the hotel demise or something.
Baby, I can never tell
That was thrown out rather quickly when you kept the same sweetheart persona even when alone, it was just how you were.
How do you sleep so well?
It was concerning to a certain few hotel residents when it was discovered that you had a thing for the Radio demon,
The way your eyes would linger on him for a moment too long, the way you would gaze at him love evident in your eyes.
You keep telling me to live right
Husk gave you a warning one night at the bar, you were sipping on a drink that had more sugar then any drink should, he was cleaning up the bar.
"Look kid, Alastor is a bad decision, this won't end well for you."
"I know." You had responded, twirling around that sickly sweet drink of yours
You weren't naive like your personality seemed to make people think, you knew Alastor was a bad idea, bad news, he was a cannibalistic murderer for heaven's sake!
To go to bed before the daylight
But it was alright to have a small crush that you wouldn't act on, it'd pass eventually but for now it wasn't bad to fantasize about dancing with him, cooking together or about doing something unholy like handholding! Nothing would become of it, you didn't have a good history with relationships anyways.
But then you wake up for the sunrise
Charlie was supportive of your little crush, she had found out about it after accidentally overhearing you drunkenly tell Angel Dust about it, that sugary little drink really did a number on you.
She decided she would try to push you and Alastor together, gently, She was such a great wingman!
After all Alastor tolerated you more than anyone else in the hotel so that's a indication that you might have a chance right? A truly slim one but a chance nonetheless!
You know you don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then
When Alastor began enjoying your company a little too much for his liking it was like he, from his prospective had been thrown into a horror movie and trapped with little to no way out.
He enjoyed some of your antics and reactions.
Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?
You were helpful around the hotel, helping out with advertising, you'd proofread scripts he had written for his radio broadcast, every time you went out for a treat you brought back some type of pastry or snack for the hotel residents, in particular you'd travel all the way to cannibal town to pick up something for Alastor, you didn't have too, but you did.
Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?
As time went on the feelings didn't fade, especially since Charlie heavily suggested that the two of you should work together on hotel related things, and that pinwheeled into the two of you spending more time together, getting closer, and eventually you began to avoid Alastor, you had a tendency to ditch the people you were fond of in a way usually in a cruel fashion, you didn't mean too, truly! But you did and you didn't want to risk it with Alastor for his sake and yours.
If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great
You were a known partier back in your day, you died back in the heights of the roaring twenties where you had the money and privileges to go to lavish parties where anyone who was anyone could attend much like the parties Gatsby held in the great Gatsby, you lived what some folks thought the roaring twenties were all about, Flappers, speakeasies, parties and short-lived prosperity.
You were in your twenties, rebellious and reckless, drinking any drink given to you, playing around with people's emotions with those sickly sweet words of yours, taking whatever substance you were given, and a year before the stock market crash, you were found dead on the dancefloor poisoned by a former darling of yours who didn't like that you had left them because things were getting 'too serious' for you.
You didn't handle death well, and in order to keep at least some of your sanity you went to hurling yourself onto the hellish party scene, frequenting speakeasies, trying to keep some sense of what you knew, repeating harmful cycles, but you couldn't do it forever.
And so you gave up the party scene around the mid 40's, burning bridges and leaving behind many scorned people behind.
You were more unstable back then, but you had improved, at least you thought you did taking up the sweet attitude by a couple notches, switching from drinking alcohol each day to drinking sweet smoothies or milkshakes.
You cleaned up your act and you were continuing to keep it clean especially as you checked into the hotel.
No one there knew about your track record and you would like to keep it that way.
But while in this world
The avoidance didn't last long since Alastor cornered you asking why and you blabbered out your feelings in one big ramble.
And that was that.
I think I'll take my whiskey neat
Charlie was ecstatic to learn that you and Alastor had gotten together, Others were concerned particularly Husk, his bets were that either Alastor would end up owning your soul, you'd become just as twisted as Al or you'd end up dead.
None of them would end well for you.
My coffee black and my bed at three
The two of you were opposites, while he took his coffee black and bitter you loaded yours up with milk, sugar and whatever other toppings you wished, when he stayed awake for multiple days in end you snoozed away at night, when he was threatening someone who was messing with the hotel you were trying to defuse the situation with sweet words.
You're too sweet for me
Alastor didn't like sweet things, but he didn't mind you and your sugary sweetness, infact you could say he was growing a little bit of a sweet tooth.
Just the sight of your sweet little smile was enough to cause a slight ache in his heart and that fact that you could be called his now was just wonderful!
You're too sweet for me
He could see himself getting used to all this sweetness, he just needed to make sure no one knew that.
I take my whiskey neat
You smiled, listening intently and sipping on your sweet alcoholic drink while Alastor recounted an encounter he had, a glass of whiskey in his hand whooshing around as he spoke.
My coffee black and my bed at three
It was after a hotel game night mixed with alcohol, the two of you were tired and intoxicated, you were a giggly drunk, laughing at the most mundane things, Alastor was escorting you to your room and much to his surprise it was a challenge as you would stop every few steps to laugh at how the crack in the wall looked like a giraffe or how that stain on the carpet looked like a birthday cake!
You're too sweet for me
By the time he had finally gotten you to your room he was exhausted, you kicked off your shoes leaving them on your floor as you dived into your bed, reveling in the comfortable blankets.
Alastor rolled his eyes as he entered your room leaning down to pick up your discarded shoes to properly put them away in your woredrob, he intended to leave to his own room but you reached out your arms to him making grabby hands, he walked over and leaned in to see what you wanted only for you to suddenly grab him, pulling him down and covering him in the blankets before promptly passing out with your arm wrapped around one of his.
You're too sweet for me
He was going to get up, he truly was but he hadn't slept in hell knows how many days now, and the bed was warm, before he knew it his eyelids were drooped. His shadow thankfully decided to close the door to your room.
I aim low, I aim true and the ground's where I go
The next morning he was greeted by you humming while gently petting his fluffy ears, he wasn't sure you knew he was awake at that point, but he rather liked having his ears petted, at least by you and it wouldn't hurt to savor this moment for just a few more minutes before the two of you would have to deal with the duties that the day held for you.
I work late where I'm free from the phone, and the job gets done
Alastor preferred to have his radio broadcast aired in the morning but sometimes he wouldn't get the chance too, [Maybe he indulged a little too much in his morning time with you]
He would air around eight pm and sometimes you would hang around his tower, doing whatever activity you had brought along until he was done and the two of you would walk back to the hotel, maybe grabbing a bite to eat.
But you worry some, I know
Other nights you would turn on the radio in his room and curl up in a blanket on the leather chair he had, closing your eyes and listening to his oddly soothing voice.
But who wants to live forever, babe?
Alastor didn't particularly believe that heavens gates would accept sinners even if they were redeemed, but nothing is impossible and he, although he doubted it, could be wrong and the Hazbin hotel could be a success in redeeming sinners left and right and you were one of the residents checked in for redemption.
You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate
Alastor moved a piece of your hair away from your face, careful not to disturb your sleeping position on his chair, he could admit to himself that he had gotten attached to you, and he couldn't just have his darling little partner leave him behind to fraternize with the winners above now could he?
The rest of you like you're the TSA
He picked you up from the chair and moved you over to his bed, tucking you in.
If anyone in this damned place could get redeemed it was you.
I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong
And Alastor, well he wasn't the type to be looking for redemption or redeemed, he was even less of the type to blindly follow someone somewhere even if it was you.
He did wish he could see his mother who obviously was in heaven but that simply just wasn't in the cards for him, it was tragic but he did murder people, he died while burying a body after all!
You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain
Alastor cut into the dead deer he had just sat on his table, he was about to take a bite when he caught a glimpse of you shooting up from his bed looking around in hasty panic before you visibly calmed at the sight of him, with one of your signature surgery sweet smiles that caused swirls in his heart you bid him a good morning.
Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape
Alastor strolled into the hotel after a day of errands, only to see everyone cluttered together looking at something you were holding that he couldn't see, you noticed him and waved him over, grinning as you held the red creature in your arms that looked strikingly like Alastor, you went on a small tangent about how you had found the little guy while taking a stroll around the hotel.
If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait
In all honesty he wanted to hurl the creature out the window but you were stubborn in saying that the two of you should keep the catlike creature immediately dubbing it as your son much to Alastor's displeasure.
Until that day
He and the little creature begun a little rivalry, whenever he had his arm around you that thing would try and headbutt it off.
On the plus side you had taken to dressing the little one up in ridiculous little outfits, usually to match you or Alastor, from dessert themed outfits to Alastor's signature suit.
The creature did not like being dressed the majority of the time as the little thing felt it was taken less seriously thanks to the outfits.
It was right, when the little one would strut around the hotel he was usually awe'd over by Charlie and Sir Pentious.
I'd rather take my whiskey neat
Time flew by as extermination day drew closer, preparing became the focus in the hotel, coating weapons in angelic steel, in particular you had a axe that you covered with dessert themed charms finding it funny, because imagine getting taken out with a dessert themed axe of all things!
My coffee black and my bed at three
You had just barely convinced Alastor to prepare to use an angelic weapon, borderline begging him to do so, you didn't know what you'd do if he got taken out or injured because he was too prideful and foolish to use angelic steel in some way.
You're too sweet for me
He just couldn't say no to you when you looked at him with those cartoonish eyes that reminded him of 1930's animation and surgery sweet smile!
You're too sweet for me
It was the night before extermination, everyone was ready, living this night as if they were going to die tomorrow, which they probably will but they had something to fight for! You indulged on the classic surgery sweet drink that you always got, sipping on it as Niffty declared Alastor king roach leading to you chuckling.
I take my whiskey neat
It was the time where everyone retired, laying in bed you gently brushed a hand through his awful haircut, the two of you chatted about what could happen tomorrow and what the two of you would do afterwards because obviously the two of you didn't intend on dying.
You let out a yawn, deciding to call it a night you gave Alastor a light peck before laying your head on your pillow.
My coffee black and my bed at three
Alastor channeled his inner Edward Cullen and watched you sleep, blanket curled around you, that little creature was snoozing by you, dressed in a onesie that you had obviously put on him.
He didn't say it often, or at all honesty but he adored you, the only sweet thing he would willingly indulge in.
He would do anything to protect you, you would survive the extermination, he would make sure of it.
You're too sweet for me
He, infact did not make sure of it.
It was during his little encounter with Adam, the first man had gone to attack him but you had ran in, taking the hit for Alastor.
Resulting in a large gash in your stomach, blood pooled around you as Alastor got a few hits on Adam before turning to you, clutching your body as shadows overtook the two of you, taking you to his radio tower.
You're too sweet for me
Alastor scrambled, his usual composed self gone as you were actively bleeding out, he tried to stop the bleeding but you had already lost too much.
I take my whiskey neat
He held you as he demanded to know why the hell you would jump Infront of him.
You simply smiled, lifting your hand to touch his face, you said three simple words that would be your last, the last thing you saw was Alastor's strained smile.
My coffee black and my bed at three
Husk was right, it would end one of three ways, either Alastor ended up with your soul, you became just as twisted or you died.
And many died that day, the hazbin hotel lost two of its residents, Sir Pentious and you.
Sir Pentious had died for his friends and you had died for the person you loved, sacrifices that landed the two of you into heaven.
You're too sweet for me
Alastor sat in his newly built radio tower, that damned creature that you had brought by his side.
He had managed to survive the hotel collapsing, good for him, unfortunately the person that brought him there didn't survive, and now he was stuck with Alastor, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing anymore.
You're too sweet for me
Alastor despised sweet things, they were filled with sickly sweet sugar that would leave cavities behind in it's wake, even after being brushed away it would still leave some damage like you did, you left him like you had left others before only this time it was unwillingly, you were the sweetest thing he'd ever known, he made a unfortunately decision to get attached to you and now he paid the consequences, he would be unintentionally haunted by you, reminded of you every time he saw the portrait they hung of you in the hotel along with Sir Pentious or even with the cat that looked like him.
He wouldn't be making the mistake of falling for someone again that was for sure.
It's not like he could if he wanted to anyways.
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Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed this! I wrote it all in one day, I didn't write it because I got tired but the reader is totally fighting people to go back to Alastor, just "I JUST DIED AFTER TELLING HIM I LOVED HIM, THAT IS TRAUMATIZING"
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doki-doki-imagines · 2 days
Note
hello! I am the person who requested that reader with a cat who likes the boys a lot if u remember that request.
may I request (if ur not uncomfortable with it) some period comfort with an afab!reader (they/them pls) just taking care and helping reader with their period? if it's not too much can u also include reader sleeping a lot and craving lots of food (typical ik) and how reader just gets mad rlly easily.
characters: bi-han, syzoth, shang tsung, kenshi, raiden and liu kang
thank u and have a good day :) (smiling through the pain)
author note: I'm super late, but I suppose it's better than never. Hope you'll like these! Link to the cat post
Kenshi Takahashi: -He…He can smell when you are on your period. -Actually Kenshi can even tell when it is coming so he is always ready with food when it finally comes. -He tries to keep your pelvis warm and treat you softly since your body gets sore way more easily. -Kenshi goes a bit insane when you're ovulating, so now he is more calm and soft. -He'll try to make your mean comments slide, but it is hard for him, so it's better not to exaggerate, or Kenshi will snap back.
Raiden: -Really sweet and understand your needs. -But Raiden won't be a sticky boyfriend. He has work to do and won't take a day off. -When he finally understands how this period works for you, he will be prepared for the next one. -Your fave food? Check. Warm beverages? Check. Cover and 3 different kinds of movies to match your current mood? Check. -When Raiden gets home tho he is all for you. He likes to put you in his arms and draw circles on your hand, waiting for you to fall asleep on his chest. -Mean words are nothing to him. A king of taking the hit and making it slide off him.
Liu Kang: -"You bastard! Couldn't you erase menstruation while creating this world?" You whine into his arms, cramps making you curl in his body.
"Would you rather lay eggs, dear one?" Liu Kang replies, with a smile on his face, forefinger lifting your chin up to make you look into his brilliant eyes.
"You are just a meanie." You snap back, pushing his face away from yours, making a laughter blossom in his throat. -He tries not to make you eat too much junk food, but he'll back off when you look at him with fury in your eyes. -His body is better than any cover.
Bi-Han: -I'm sorry, but he would be pretty cold. -He was raised in a way that even if you were dying, you should take care of yourself without the help of anybody, so at max, he'll send your way a doctor. -Bi-Han has to work A LOT on being a normal human. He really doesn't know how to work around normal feelings that are outside his field of work. -And the future grandmaster lessons he has been given as a kid never focused on helping his partner out. It is already much that he decided who to be with. -Bi-Han probably knows very little about how menstruation works, mostly because they taught him not to care about other people and just think about how to be the perfect Lin Kuei's leader. -First work on making him act as a decent human, then Bi-Han will even make you a special tea to make your cramps less painful. -And if you look particularly pitiful he may snuck junk food too…
Syzoth: -The first time he saw you losing blood, he panicked because "Why are you losing blood?!?!" -After you explain how things work, Syzoth will let out a breath of relief. -Surprisingly, he understands pretty well that losing blood is a pain, so he doesn't mind following your order like a butler. -Syzoth is gonna snuggle under the covers with you, btw. -Not used to you being mean tho, even if he understands you aren't fine, he still takes those words personally.
Shang Tsung: -Actually, he'd make a potion to make your cramps fade. -But he doesn't do anything for nothing…are you ready to try his next experiments? Maybe the potion isn't as safe as he says. -Shang Tsung satisfies your cravings, but don't nag too much, or he'll get annoyed. -Also, don't be mean, or he will snap back, then you'll start to cry, and actually Shang Tsung has a weakness: your tears. Then he'll have to try to make you stop, but sadly, another mean word slips…it's an endless cycle that makes him think just "Hope this will end soon."
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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love
Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of
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Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Word Count: 5.8K
Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.
Note: This is told from Soldier Boy's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
********************************************
Previously:
"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.
"Who's asking?"
He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."
You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"
"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.
"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."
“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.
You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.
“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.
“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.
“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.
*******************************************
Present Day
*Soldier Boy POV*
The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.
When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.
Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.
He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.
"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"
Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.
It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.
When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.
You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.
The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.
And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.
Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.
Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.
And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.
Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.
When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.
But the thought of you loving him scared him.
As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.
You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.
So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.
The psychotic bitch that sold me out. 
It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.
"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.
He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.
"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"
"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"
"Her daughter." Hughie answers.
Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.
Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said? 
"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."
"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.
But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.
His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.
"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.
"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.
"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.
Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"
"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"
"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.
Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.
"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.
"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.
Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.
Of course she was upset.
He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.
Because you were his.
He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.
Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.
Could she still be alive?
Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.
The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.
He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.
Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.
Purposeless.
He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.
She was just so damn stubborn all the time.
"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."
Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."
"But-" Hughie interjects.
"Oi Hughie. Calm down."
"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."
"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.
***************************************************
"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.
Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.
Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.
A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with  enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.
"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.
"What floor?"
"8th." Butcher says.
When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?
The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.
If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.
The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.
"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.
As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses. 
And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.
Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.
He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.
That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.
He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.
The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.
Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it,  but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.
The apartment felt like you.
And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.
You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.
He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.
"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.
Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.
Where was she going?
Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking  and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.
He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.
She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-
The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.
But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.
He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.
He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.
Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.
The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.
The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."
When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.
"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.
"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.
But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.
"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again
"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.
"What?" Hughie asks.
"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“
Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game,  before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.
Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.
Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.
Maybe she should have.
He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.
He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't.  It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.
Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.
He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.
But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.
He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you.  He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him.  Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.
Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.
He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.
I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-
“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.
Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?
Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?
Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-
Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.
He remembers again what it was like to be with you in  bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.
You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-
Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-
He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.
He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.
Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.
He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.
The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.
He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.
Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-
His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.
But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.
I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-
Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.
Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.
***************************************
A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂
Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)
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arieswritez · 22 hours
Text
puppy love
puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3
chapter 2
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cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization
about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)
3.
you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.
your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.
you didn't blame yourself.
you couldn't blame yourself.
blame the love stories.
the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.
he could be the one.
true love's forever kiss.
you imagined it all.
movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.
all you had to do was get him to stick around.
you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.
you had to be perfect.
. . there was just one miniscule problem.
the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.
it's the way the two of you had met.
despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.
you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.
because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.
and he was just as quick to shut it down.
you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.
which meant they were at least acquaintances.
so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.
everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.
your boy was stupid.
your boy was shallow.
"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.
but warning you wasn’t enough.
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your boy barely looked at you.
and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.
you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.
you'd see him coming.
he'd see you.
time would slow as you walked past him.
your heart rate would pick up.
but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.
all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.
the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.
he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.
but eventually, he would.
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you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.
mark was vehemently against introducing you two.
you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.
whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.
it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.
thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.
you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.
and soon you became a master of disguise.
you studied them top to bottom.
those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.
you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.
. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.
it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.
his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.
and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.
it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.
the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.
you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.
specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.
whatever you did faded into the background.
it was all worth it in the end.
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something was wrong with mark.
and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.
he was looking at you. . differently.
he talked to his dad.
nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.
he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.
she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.
mark didn't know who to believe.
he just wanted to stop thinking about you.
his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.
senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.
he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.
he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.
something was wrong with mark.
he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.
something was wrong with mark.
when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.
he could see more of you.
freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.
he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.
smooth. soft.
he'd held you, once.
when was the last time?
something was wrong with mark.
he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.
thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.
your little humming. . but not singing.
never singing.
mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.
that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.
the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.
about you.
i like your hair today.
light.
you talk so goddamn much.
dark.
i missed you.
light.
your stories take fucking forever.
dark.
something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.
if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.
something was wrong with mark.
when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -
something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.
when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.
something was wrong with mark.
. . or so he thought.
because he'd later find out. .
. . no.
something was wrong with you.
all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.
triple texting.
mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?
mark was the one seeking you out.
something was wrong with you.
and he needed to get to root of the problem.
he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.
you looked happy.
fucking elated.
to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.
mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.
why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.
and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.
mark had always been curious.
and so, he went to see you.
the two of you were in your room.
you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.
and mark started looking.
you were predictable.
he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.
it was easier that way.
he pretended he didn't know where it was.
you pretended to have some privacy.
he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.
of your thoughts.
thank fuck you were still so naive.
thank fuck for dairies.
he'd found it in a box under your bed.
and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.
you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go
thump.
thump.
thump.
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Text
When Life Gives You Lemons
Rise Donatello x Reader imagine
Info + Warnings: Reader's at the Lair to help Mikey in the kitchen. Mikey's caught up in something else. Donatello gives Reader a way to pass the time. No gendered language, pronouns, or Y.N used for Reader. Vague not-friends to might-be-friends with feelings. Set a few years post movie.
Commentary: He's much harder to write for than a certain blue menace. IDK if this even sounds like him.
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It's easy to think Donatello doesn't care.
Well... that's not true. You've seen him unveil his latest and greatest inventions- he cares so much it's impressive.
But it is easy to think he's extremely (impressively) neutral on you.
It's a kind of intense neutral that you haven't seen anywhere else.
He's polite. Or his version of polite, anyway. It's not like he avoids you, he just is neutral in a way that somehow pulls on your attention.
You can't explain how or why.
You're just aware of it the same way you're aware of his family's fondness for you. His near-apathy has the same volume as Leo's jokes and Raph's warm support and Mikey's excited integration of you into their schedules.
You call it Hamato Intensity, in the privacy of your own mind, the way they all are. It's shapeless and beyond definition, and you really shouldn't think too hard on it because it simply is the way that gravity just is, but you almost can't help yourself.
They just have a presence.
Maybe it has something to do with that Ninpō thing Mikey and April tried to explain to you. It's like magic, but it's not magic, but it's kinda magic? But then Donnie had cut in to explain that it was absolutely not magic and he had a whole PowerPoint and everything got very derailed very very quickly.
You were more confused at the end than you were when the conversation had started.
So you try not to think about it too much. You get that they're glowy and dangerous, and it has something to do with ancestral connections, and you think April's haunted, and that's just going to have to be enough.
It's a lot like how you don't quite get Donnie.
You're pretty sure he doesn't dislike you. Over the few months you've known the family, you've seen him dislike several people, and it is always extremely clear. It's sharp and hazardous and can be a little (lot) intimidating- and he's never been like that with you. He's just dry. A little reserved.
The weird part is that it isn't really... awkward?
Like, it should be. It so should be. Right now, with you sitting at their kitchen table waiting for Mikey to get home so you can help him with his latest culinary adventure (per his request) and Donnie silently brewing coffee and typing away at his gauntlet, it should be awkward.
It isn't.
It's comfortable, in a strange way.
The realization is a surprise- one only trumped by the surprise of him speaking.
He says your name in way of greeting, and your head whips around like he'd screamed.
"Yeah?" You say, confused.
You think it might be the first time he's said it to you.
He stares at you for a beat like he's studying you, just long enough for you to start to feel out of place. "Still waiting for Michael, I presume?"
"Yeah," You repeat, no less confused. More confused, you think. "He's grabbing ingredients. Apparently Leo ate the end of something and Mike's making him portal them around to replace it," You explain (over explain? You can't tell) with a fond amusement. "Said they couldn't find it at the first place they tried, so they're making extra stops."
Something dings on his wrist, and he drops his eyes to type something into his gauntlet again. "Excellent," He says neutrally, still typing. "That leaves you free to assist me."
You blink at him, confusion growing. Again.
He seems to notice, his hand stilling on his keyboard for an almost imperceptible moment. "If... you are not otherwise occupied, obviously."
"Um, no. Nah, I'm free," You respond, finding your footing again and deciding that much stranger things have happened, really. "What's up?"
"I require an extra set of hands in the lab, to hold a circuit board in place while neither crushing nor breaking it, which- despite his best efforts and gentle demeanor- makes Raphael a less-than-ideal candidate," He explains, his typing hand coming up to twirl once in midair in a very Donnie motion of simultaneous acknowledgment and dismissal.
It occurs to you that this is the same lab that may-or-may-not have some sort of nuke tucked away in it, depending on who you listen to.
The thought is brushed away by the realization that your curiosity outweighs your caution (again).
You slip out of your chair, nodding at him. "Sounds... uncharacteristically simple," You say, testing the waters with a gentle joke at his expense.
It seems to pay off as he nods. "I assure you, the end goal is extremely characteristic," He says, and it takes you a second to realize he's- it's not joking, but it has a self-aware, playful edge to it. It's subtle, but it's there, and it catches you off-guard as two robotic arms reach out and pour a mug of coffee without him looking.
"Then lead the way."
He turns without a word, retracting one metal arm as the other brings the mug to his hands before disappearing into his shell.
You follow him to his lab, hesitating just outside as he slips right back into his element.
You've been in the lab before, but it's rare, and usually with the company of his entire family. Here, you have no cues to follow.
He glances back at you and raises a brow.
"Do I... need to take off my shoes or anything?" You ask over the synth and bass filling the room, only half joking. It feels like walking into an operating room, like you need to sterilize your entire being before you breathe on any of the impressive technology.
"No," He says simply, turning back to his workbench, "The floor is cleaned bi-daily by SHELLDON. Bi-daily, in this case, being twice-per-day- not every other."
You nod at his back. Of course it is.
You walk towards him, not quite able to resist the urge to look around. You settle for keeping it subtle.
"Here," He says, pulling your attention from an organized mess of cables and metal hanging on the wall like technologically-advanced macrame. "Hold this over here, at roughly a 59.6 degree angle."
Taking the circuit board- a foot square and heavier than you expect- you nod again, trying not to laugh as you step to his side and lift it up to rest against yet another unintelligible pile of technology. "Right. 59.6 degrees."
"Roughly," He amends, the start of a smile visible in your peripheral. He reaches out- into your space- and nudges the board into a sharper tilt, presumably finding that approximate angle for you as his metal arms grab things from the tool chest behind him.
"Like this?" You ask, trying to hold still as he pulls away.
Oddly, you almost miss his space in your own.
"Roughly," He repeats dryly.
That's alright. You aren't striving for perfection.
Roughly is fine.
You feel compelled to strive for perfection.
You swallow the urge.
He's back, hands full of drill and screws and metal hands holding more metal pieces that you can't quite see around his battle shell as he crouches slightly to look at the underside of the board in your hands.
"Slide it to the left- your left, not mine."
You nudge it gently.
"More."
You nudge it again.
"More- too much, back the other way."
You cock a brow at him- or more accurately, at his red-and-blue goggles, which show you your own reflection. You can't see his eyes, but he must see you, because he mimics your expression.
You nudge it back the other way.
"Adequate," He says in something close to approval.
It's nicer to hear than it probably should be.
"This will be an unpleasant sound. It will jostle the board. If it slides out of alignment, we'll have to reset you."
"Alright."
He's correct- as per usual. It's a very unpleasant sound, metal on metal combined with the whir of the drill, followed by clanging as his battle arms hand him extra pieces and parts.
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He ends up entirely beneath the metal monstrosity, supported by the two metal arms as he leans back to look up at the machine's underbelly.
You end up in a long-abandoned rolling chair. You tell yourself it's just because Mikey isn't home yet.
Eventually, Donatello calls your name.
"Yeah?"
"Four-point-five millimeter hex key."
You glance over at the little work table he'd rolled over earlier, and spot a tray of neatly organized hex keys. A closer look reveals perfectly placed labels.
One reads 4.5, so you slip it out of its slot and roll forwards to pass it to him.
"Thank you."
You hum a little acknowledgment, and kick your chair back slightly.
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"-and for some insane reason, he decided to catapult himself-" You wave an arm out in emphasis, mid-story as Donnie meticulously wires together the plates you had installed, and a third metal arm darts out to gently catch your wrist.
You stop speaking, and you stare at each other.
"Hotplate," He says after a beat.
You glance over your shoulder, and your hand is being held just shy of a metal platform on the desk behind you. There's a little red light on the front, and a bright purple sign plastered neatly below it, warning Hot. Do Not Touch. Do Not Use As Microwave.
"Thanks," You says softly. You can feel heat wafting off it now, enough to give you the impression that had he not interceded, you'd be nursing a nasty burn.
He hums and retracts the hand, tucking it neatly into his battleshell. "You were reminding me of Nardo's foolhardy ways?" He prompts, attention already returning to the project in front of him.
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Eventually, you hear Mikey holler from outside the lab, calling you.
"I guess that's my cue," You say.
Donatello does not look up. "Agreed. I appreciate your assistance."
"Any time," You say casually.
As you turn to leave, you're absolutely dumbfounded to realize you actually mean it.
You've enjoyed your stint as his lab assistant.
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"How was the lab?" Mikey asks, a little too playful for your tastes.
"Hazardous," You quip dryly, replaying the hotplate incident. "No wonder he's so protective of it."
You miss Mikey's response, mentally counting metal hands.
Donatello's battleshell has more than two.
You're pretty sure you've seen him with five before.
...So why did he need help?
"Hello?" Mikey asks gently, an innocent- too innocent- smile on his face.
"Sorry, flashbacks to my near-death experience." It's not quite a lie.
He doesn't quite buy it.
"I said if he asks you to test fit a helmet, say no," Mikey repeats.
You nod slowly. "Speaking from experience?"
"Don't worry about it," He chirps, slipping an apron over his head. "Speaking of experiences, are you ready for Angelo's All-You-Can-Beat Eggstravaganza?"
"Absolutely," You grin, happy for the change of subject.
And excited for lemon bars.
Win-win.
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"You're telling me-"
"Nardo, don't-"
"I teleported all over New York and the Hidden City-"
"You are in the way-"
"So that you could get your wrenches passed to you?" Leo exclaims, the picture of incredulity as he stands between Donnie and the equipment you'd helped with. "That was your grand plan?"
"I had no grand plan," Donnie responds, stubbornly sidestepping his twin. "Michelangelo had a grand plan. I was a victim, dear brother, same as you."
"Oh, of course, of course," He says, hands coming up in dramatic surrender. "Because spending time with someone you have the hots for-"
Donnie taps at his gauntlet, turning his music up over his brother while sliding back beneath his newest baby.
"-Is exactly the same as stopping in thirteen stores-" Leo continues louder, undeterred- "for a niche lemon species you eventually start to think Mikey made up!"
"And did he?"
"He might as well have, for how deep into Witch Town we ended up!"
Donatello rolls his eyes sharply, adjusting bolts above himself.
They don't need adjusting.
"If you don't come out to try their lemon bars- and sing their fucking praises- I will come in here and haul you out myself," Leonardo proclaims, ducking into Donnie's space. Persistent, unyielding, obstinate. "And I will tell everyone- everyone, you heard me- about last month and the rollerskates-"
"You are a monster."
"And I will do so in detail," Leo finishes, a smug grin on his face.
Donnie glares at him.
"We're not kids anymore, hermano," He says matter-of-factly. "You've taken on supervillains, aliens, ancient mystic entities, and all of NASA's cybersecurity-"
"Allegedly."
"-You can handle a direct conversation without hiding behind your tech."
Donatello does not respond.
Leo pats the metal chassis they're hunched beneath in lieu of touching Donatello himself and takes his leave.
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The kitchen is loud when you and Mikey present a tray of perfectly sliced, perfectly proportioned lemon bars, each presented in an adorable white paper liner and covered in a light dusting of powdered sugar.
It's loud and happy and sounds like love, and you find yourself marveling at that Hamato Intensity again as Raph and Casey bicker about the wrestling match they both watched the night before and Casey Jr excitedly asks Mikey all about the bars and April and Leo and Splinter sneak in closer to the tray, only freezing when Mikey fixes them with a dangerous glare over Junior's shoulder.
It's a lot. They're a lot.
It smells like citrus and sugar and coffee.
The coffee reminds you of the smell of steel, which reminds you of the clanging of metal, which reminds you of whirring drills and gentle nudges and self-assured sass from beneath a machine you still don't understand.
And then you're jolted from the surprisingly warm memory by Mikey sliding a lemon bar just under your nose, happily saying something about chef privileges, and the bars taste every bit as good as they smell and he's grinning broadly and your heart feels warm all over again at the happy sounds from the group you love so much.
Metal claws dip into your vision, dangling your keys in front of your face like a worm in front of a fish. "Missing something?" Donatello asks dryly, quietly, from behind you.
"Where were these?" You ask, cupping your hands beneath them and catching as the metal claw releases.
"Workbench," He says simply, his claw- and another- darting forwards and grabbing two bars by their liners. He drops one in your hands and takes the other, tucking his metal extensions away. "How did these turn out?"
"Why don't you try it and find out?"
"I like to know what I'm getting into."
"I'm biased," You shoot back, your voices similarly amused. "As a man of science, you recognize the issue here, no?"
"Touché." He takes a bite, chewing slowly, thoughtfully.
"...So?"
"It appears you are more-than-adequate in the kitchen as well," He says, and it feels like a compliment.
It feels like a big one.
You nod, playfully smug. "I'm happy to hear it."
You are.
The realization makes you feel a little brave. "If you find yourself needing an assistant again..."
"I'd have to be able to steal you away from Mikey."
"I think he can share."
"In that case," Donnie says, amusement in his voice as he speaks beneath the noise of his family, just to you, "I will keep you in mind."
It doesn't sound half bad, really.
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blue-blue-blooms · 2 days
Text
Eddie Munson Headcanons
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Eddie Munson x Reader
Established Relationship
You and Eddie had been dating for a while, pretty much since the summer of '85.
You were Dustin's babysitter which meant you knew him and his friends pretty well. This meant that when they tried to hide a psychokinetic, bald child in Mike Wheeler's basement, you caught them pretty early on.
You hadn't expected to become friends with Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler, but when they proved themselves to be different from your preconceived notions, you became close friends.
So, yeah, you'd fought alongside the party, kicking Demogorgon ass. You'd also gotten drugged and interrogated alongside your friends. You were aware of just how fucked up Hawkins really was.
You thought that it'd be hard to keep all of this a secret from Eddie but you found it surprisingly easy. It was nice to be around someone normal for once, even though Eddie didn't really classify as 'normal'.
You'd go on dates to the movies, share a milkshake at your favorite diner, hold hands as you walked around the woods.
Eddie would try to get you into metal music but you weren't really a fan. It made Eddie pout and stomp his feet like a child sometimes but you were a goddamn babysitter and that shit didn't work on you.
He tried to get you to play D&D but was immediately shot down.
"Last time I chose to participate in a D&D game, a child went missing. So, no way."
He understood that.
He understood a lot, actually. He didn't pester you with questions any time you jolted awake in your sleep, sobbing. He'd just hold you in his arms and sing to you until you'd calmed down. He'd pepper your face with kisses any time you seemed upset. He'd pretend to fall over or hurt himself to get a laugh out of you.
You weren't sure how you'd gone your entire life not having known him. But you knew for sure that you'd spend the rest of your life getting to know him, every version of him.
When Eddie gets caught in the middle of everything, he's incredibly surprised to learn that you already knew. He asked you why you'd never told him anything to which you promptly replied, "I signed an NDA, Eddie. I don't want the government after me." He couldn't really argue with that.
After he found out what happened at Starcourt, he'd thrown a shoulder around you and smacked a huge kiss on your cheek, "You're telling me you fought off actual Russian spies, got drugged, fought a fucking Mind Flayer, and made it out alive? Damn, babe, I didn't know you were such a badass."
He nearly fell over after he found out you broke Billy Hargrove's nose after he nearly killed Steve.
"That's really hot."
"Is this actually turning you on?"
"I mean...I wouldn't mind if you punched me in the face."
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sailor-aviator · 9 hours
Text
Hey.
Go ahead and get settled because this will be...long, in true Liz fashion.
So, by now I'm sure most of you have heard what's happened. If not, you can search this blog for some answers or others for more.
I joined this fandom offiicially at the end of September after being a long time lurker. I had just lost my job and times were uncertain for me. I felt inspired to write, and as someone whose formative years were shaped by the fandom experience, I wanted to feel that sense of belonging again - to feel like a part of a community. I've talked about it on here before, but I started my fandom days in the original Hunger Games fandom when the first movie had just come out, and then I shifted gears towards the SuperWhoLock fandom. If you know anything about SuperWhoLock, then you know you had to have pretty tough fucking skin to be a part of any of it.
Of course, this was back in the day when fandom was an actual community and not authors having to beg for scraps of engagement and people thinking its a numbers game. I was a fairly large blog within the SuperWhoLock community (Waywardly-Carrying-On was the username), but I left fandom for a few years because life got hectic and I felt like I had outgrown the fandom itself as I was no longer watching any of the shows. As the years went on, I started to yearn for the fandom experience again, which is how I found myself dipping toes into several different ones.
I was so excited to publish my first fanfic. I had convinced myself that I wasn't a good writer (much to the chagrin of my irl friends), and I had put a pause on writing my original story. I wanted to write this idea about a cowboy and a girl using characters that I had grown to love like I did way back in my older days. So, I started posting, and I was so excited for the story, that I kept posting almost daily. MamaMay was one of the first people to embrace not only my story, but me as a person into the fandom. She made me feel welcomed and wanted.
Pretty much right off the bat I was already getting anons telling me that I was being too much and that I needed to calm down with all the posting. I was confused because...this is Tumblr. It's literally a blogging website? Why wouldn't I post? I decided to ignore the mean words (not before giving my opinion, of course) and kept on doing my thing. Well, the anons got continually worse and worse. I had a suspiscion as to who the anons could be, but I never had concrete proof. So, I experimented with blocking suspects until finally it worked. I'm not naming names because that's not my style, so don't even bother asking.
The fact of the matter is, some of you have entered fandom spaces for the first time, and you don't know how to act. You don't care to learn fandom etiquette as you've made abundantly clear by calling fandom olds every name under the sun while utilizing the anonymous feature. Newsflash, you're part of the problem. You're the reason why authors don't want to publish anymore. You are the reason that something that's supposed to be fun is starting to feel like a goddamn chore.
How many times can authors on here say that we aren't machines? We have lives outside of this website: family, friends, jobs, school, etc. Some of you really are just hellbent on making everyone around you miserable, and it's sad. You can't just leave well enough alone and let people enjoy something, no you feel like everyone has to enjoy it the same way as you.
Some of you go after authors on here because of some weird sense of jealousy too. I don't know why my shit blew up, babe, I really don't. But I started out with no followers and no support just like everyone else. I'll tell you what helped me though: following fandom etiquette and reaching out to other creators to build an actual community. None of this "I've reblogged three of your things and now I'm messaging you so that you return the favor." No, I reached out to make actual friendships which is what fandom is SUPPOSED to be. If someone was clearly not interested, it was fine!! I backed off and kept doing my own thing.
Some of you think being mean on the internet makes you big and bad. Guess what! It doesn't! It's loser mentality and I feel genuinely sorry for you. I'm sorry that people in your own life made you feel so small as to feel like you had to lash out at strangers on the internet who are just trying to have fun.
Anyway, this is my really long way of saying that I am taking a break for a little bit. I have no idea how long it will be - could be the weekend, could be a couple of weeks, could be forever. I need time to decide if this is something I want to keep persuing. If I come back, I don't know if I will remain a TGM blog or if I'll shift gears and hop into another fandom with a rebrand. Guess we'll just have to see.
To the people on here who have been a constant source of joy, laughter, and support: thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your presence has meant everything to me, and I hope that my break sees me wanting to come back and giggle about the silly plane movie with you all again.
Nothing but love,
Liz 💛
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So... @muffinlance wrote a really awesome story. I read a post from a point in time, though I truly do not remember when since it seems like I've been working on this project forever, saying that she gives blanket permission for people to print and bind the story into a book (I think there was an also addendum saying that they do not give permission to be sold, since selling fic is illegal). This fic has had total control over my whole brain since it was sent to me (@creatorofthemind I believe it was you, so thank you forever for tuning me into it) back during the days of like chapter six or seven.
So here I am now, sharing this amazing journey of my first ever bookbinding adventure. Further reading below.
So to give you an idea of what's going on, this is a fanfiction about Zuko (Avatar the Last Airbender) (animated show version, the LA show did not exist yet and we do not speak of the movie) being adopted by Hakoda, Father of Katara and Zuko. (This might have also been what kicked off the Give Zuko A Parent craze, but don't fact check me.)
Overall, the characters from the show stick very well to the cannon versions, but where MuffinLance really shines is in the rich backstories and fleshed out feeling of all the non cannon elements. Especially the background characters. I would argue that the writing in this peice of fanwork could easily rival the cannon show at many points of comparison.
Now that you have context, we can get into the actual process.
To start, I used this guide to figure out where to even begin, and fount the included resource list to also be quite helpful. I cannot for the LIFE OF ME figure out where I found the template I used for the front matter and such, but it must be somewhere and I will link to it when I inevitably come across it again.
Then I began to typeset. This step took... a long time. I worked in chunks from about September of 2022 to late March of 2024. I would get a big section done, sometimes even the entire thing, but then find I hated the way I had done it and give up for months at a time. Such is the life of ADHD and flitting interest in projects I suppose.
And then finally, step one was done, and I was left with pages on a word document that look like this. (And do please let me know if you want the link to the document. It was so much work, and I would love to not be the only one to use it.)
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Next step was printing out this beast. Ended up being about eight pages of front matter, and about 630 pages of body text.
That I printed wrong.
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Twice.
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Before finally getting it right. And then not getting a picture of it, because I finished at 4 am and had work at 7, and am also an idiot.
Then I simply stitched along, putting everything together into a beautiful text block.
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And came up with a design for the cover.
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Yes the glue did end up lumpy. Ignore it.
Yes I did have to sketch out the design onto a scraped page several times before I figured out what I was doing. Ignore that too.
The cover design does wrap around the entire cover. No I did not get a picture before I glued the thing down. See again: I'm an idiot. And just... massively impatient.
Finally, we get to the stage of gluing. Behold, my bookpress.
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Of course, topped with Madam MuffinLances own actual professional-people book, Fox's Tounge and Kirin's Bone. It is Excelent. Here is the LINK so you can go and support this amazing author with the real-monies as well as the internet-kudos.
Then, once everything is glued together, one must give the book its "gilt" edges.
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04/24/2024 Daily OFMD Recap
TLDR; Rhys/TheCryptid Factor; Vico Ortiz; Nathan Foad; Kristian Nairn; Samba Schutte; Jes Tom; Kay Buchanan; Guz Khan; Uproar on Digital; MerMay; Watch Party Reminders; Fan Spotlight; Mini Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika
Hey lovelies! Sorry for the delay-- I know you say not to worry if there's a delay and I try not to but last night was particularly frustrating because I got most of the recap done, but then worked 14 hours in between that and fell asleep without actually hitting finishing up and hitting send! Anyway, bit late but here it is :)
​PS: Shoutout to the lovely @/MerakiRetreat for saving my butt the other day from a horrible auto correct error! You are a rockstar! Thank you so much!
== Rhys Darby / Cryptid Factor ==
There's a Cryptid Factor Tiktok now! He's out covering the Flamethrowing robot dog! If you have Tiktok, feel free to visit the link below, if you don't, I'm attaching the video here as well, but please, if you have tiktok, definitely go there to watch and interract so Rhys and TCF folks can feel the love :) The Cryptid Factor Tiktok
== Vico Ortiz ==
Vico being 🔥 Fucking 🔥 just like their short!
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Vico Ortiz IG
== Nathan Foad ==
Nathan continuing to shine in Love's Labour's Lost. You're not gonna stop hearing from me about this for a while because I find him all to adorable in this.
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Img Src: @Jodie_davie_creates IG
== Kristian Nairn ==
Kristian is going to be at the Captured Festival in Malta on Sept 5th - 8th. For more info visit capturedfestival.com!
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Img Src: Kristian Nairn's IG
== Samba Schutte ==
Samba's appearing in You Made It Weird! With Pete Holmes!
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== Jes Tom ==
Our dear Jes Tom out and about after surgery recovery!
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Img Src: Jes Tom's IG
== Kay Buchanan ==
More Leatherworking BTS by our dear Kay Buchanan!
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Img Srcs: Kay Buchanan's IG
== Guz Khan ==
Our friend Guz Khan is out with the fam!
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Img Src: Guz Khan's IG
== Uproar on Digital! ==
You can now access Uproar on Youtube Movies in the United States! If you're not in the US or NZ you can still buy/access them via a vpn!
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== MerMay ==
Save OFMD Crew is posting some prompts for the upcoming #MerMay! Check them out below and please feel free to share your creations with @saveofmdcrewmates on their various socials!
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== Watch Parties ==
It was brought to my attention I kept posting a picture that was set back in 2014 (Thank you Mich!!) ! Agh! Good news, we're back to the present. Today, Thu April 25th we'll be showing Short Poppies Episode 4 & 5 on the Rhys Darby Factor Discord, if you need a link, hit me up! Otherwise you can watch short poppies on Amazon Prime! Times: 3:30 pm PT / 6:30 pm ET / 11:30 pm BST
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== Fan Spotlight ==
Our friend @melvisik is still at it with another member of the Red Flag crew-- Teresa Lee!
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== Love Notes ==
Hey Lovelies! I'm sorry I didn't get to get as far as I wanted with last night's love notes, so I'll save them for tomorrow. I'll share some other folks love notes instead:
Img Src: @/genleeart on Instagram
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Img Src: @/YourBeautifulLife on Instagram
== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==
Sorry for the cheat today all, but I just, really needed to see this gif of Stede and Ed and their wonderful hands. Gif courtesy of my darling Jodi @saltpepperbeard
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OK-so it's Wednesday and WIPs and all that
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ok so i meant to get back to hockey and books 'cuz that's where i wanna be right now but my brain was in a not so creative place until someone broke me out of it last night
so for wirp wednesday i got bits of a new thing that is gonna be part of a series NOT-SO-MUCH ONE NIGHT STANDS (cuz well they don't necessarily stay that way) that i've already got 2 fics going for - one firstprince and one liam/pez cuz well that's apparently really becoming a thing for me
so first thanks @suseagull04 for the out of context lines tag - i have something for that too (not one of those other ones) throwing this on here too cuz i can lol
He kisses Henry on the cheek, whispers, “Get me whatever you wanna share,” and sneaks up to the office when everyone is finalizing the breakfast order
thank you so much for the wip wed tags @jmagnabo92 @theprinceandagcd @suseagull04 @firenati0n @adreamareads
@piratefalls @duchessdepolignaca03 @thesleepyskipper oh! and stealing @kiwiana-writes and @cha-melodius open tags cuz that's what they're for :)
nsfw words & tags (it's the words nsfw not the tags lol)beneath the tag
Now, it’s moments like right now, where he’s biting his way across Alex’s thighs, thighs sprinkled with just the right amount of hair, hairy in the way that Henry likes, not just a dusting but actual hair that catches on his tongue as he lavishes the spots he’s sucked bruises into. These moments are the ones that make him so glad he got away from everything else. He can have this anonymous moment with someone so hot he doesn’t want to kick him out the way he has the others eventually. It’s halfway through the morning after, and they’ve yet to get out of bed for more than bathroom trips – one of those with some spectacular moments in the shower – and some quick trips to the kitchen for drinks and some quick snacks when Alex lures him into turning on the tv and watching a movie after round three. They barely make it through the movie when Henry is orgasming for the fourth time that night. Henry is no stranger to multiple orgasms; he’s in his low 20s and knows that brings with it a quicker refractory period. But Alex, the stranger who’s fast working on filling Henry in on every aspect of his life so it no longer feels that way, is doing things for that quick refractory period he’s never experienced before.  Henry doesn’t know how he got so lucky last night when he accompanied Pez and Liam to the club, but he is beyond happy that Liam decided to bring his friend, and that said friend was agreeable to finding his way into Henry’s bed.
if ya already did this and i missed it i'm sure i'll find it - consider me a top gun pilot doing a fly-by lolz
tagging: @agame-writes @agostobuwan @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites
@dragonflylady77 @england-would-fall @firstsprinces @forever-fixating
@getmehighonmagic @heysweetheart-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine
@itsmaybitheway @jellibuns @junebugclaremontdiaz @littlemisskittentoes
@lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @mikibwrites @msmarvelouswinchester
@nocoastposts @priincebutt @sophie1973 @stellarm
@tailsbeth-writes @thedramasummer @thinkof-england @cricketnationrise
@tinyarmedtrex @typicalopposite @wordsofhoneydew @yrsacdfox
@captainjunglegym @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @violetbaudelaire-quagmire
DON'T MIND ME JUST ADDING AN IMPORTANT TAG THE SUN IN MY EYES MADE ME MISS LOLZ @taste-thewaste
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I come bearing another potential "sequel" idea. Obviously you don't have to write this. I randomly thought back to the "Sebastian with a reverse PA" story and, well...
Let's say f!MC decides she wants to return the favor, in a way. She decides to get a piercing of her own that can help stimulate them both. My mind says either a tongue piercing or a fourchette piercing, but that's completely up to you if you decide you like this idea 🤭
Anyways, she gets it and it becomes so hard not to ruin the surprise and she's holding off because it's still healing. She has to keep coming up with excuses for why they can't (too tired, have to study, etc). Both Seb and MC are sexually frustrated so by the time she feels it's healed enough, it's feral while also trying to be careful with both piercings.
(I'm just realizing how both my requests have a bit of a theme to them. Don't know what that says about me 🤣 Anyways, much love 💜)
Piercings pt3 - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC
🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI
My lovely cyan1de, your brain is absolutely filthy and I love it 🫶🏻. I’ve taken your inspo but I changed the piercing to something with a little less heal time for the stories sake. Hope you like it anyway 💕. Thank you as always for the requests!
Warnings: descriptions of healing piercing, please have mercy and if you get a ‘spicy’ piercing let it heal fully/follow aftercare instructions so you don’t get an infection, modern college a/u, unprotected p-in-v, oral f receiving, mattress fucking?
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Things had been incredible between them. While they had no label per say, they very much went on dates, spent the night with each other and hooked up fairly regularly.
She knew his birthday was only a few weeks away and while he swore he only wanted to spend the day with her and refused gift ideas, she had a fun little idea that had manifested after a saucy conversation or two about piercings.
After talking plenty about his she’d decided to ask what he’d think if a partner were to get one. He chuckled and gave her a wild playful look, hair messy from the combination of sweat and her fingers carding through it. “Wouldn’t mind it. What? You thinking about getting one?”
She’d only shrugged playfully, pretending to mull it over. She couldn’t deny the fact that she had in fact been thinking about getting a piercing ever since their first encounter. “Well if you do decide you want one-“ he paused to wiggle his brows and glanced at her bare chest “or two…I think it would be hot. But don’t feel like you need one just because I got one.”
She’d of course done her research of healing and pain and decided her top contender was a VCH piercing. Between the benefits, healing time, and the aesthetics of it she decided that would be the piercing she got.
Her roommate had agreed to go with her and hold her hand while she got it done, all kinds of on board for her and Sebastian since she seemed to be really happy since they’d started hooking up.
Thankfully the piercing wasn’t too painful, a big pinch and a bit of soreness but nothing she couldn’t handle. Her roommate had been hysterically laughing since she’d gotten home to look at it and her first words uttered were “She’s so pretty!”.
The next day Sebastian had tried to come over between classes for a bit of midday fun. But she’d quickly made the excuse that she was really tired and needed a nap. She’d also carefully evaded going back to his after a coffee date by saying she had to do some extra studying.
Luckily she’d been able to just get away with a good blowjob for him on the couch during their movie night at his place later in the week. He’d started to get a little suspicious after about two weeks of evaded sexual encounters or only blowjobs. “You know you can talk to me right? Like if something is wrong…is something wrong?”
She quickly waved him off just saying she’s been having some hormone changes which have made her tired and have a lower libido. In all honesty she was having an incredibly hard time telling him no, but she was almost halfway through the recovery and was determined to surprise him with her new piercing. “Love, is this because of your period?” He’d said while nipping the spot just below her ear, grinding against her thigh. “You know I don’t mind a bit of blood, I’ll still take good care of her. I promise.”
She of course already knew this since they’d already had period sex and he hadn’t been deterred in the slightest. Of course he’d been all too accommodating of her surge of desires during her ovulating week though.
He whispered incredibly sweet things and treated her like a princess but they definitely were a very sexually active couple. So when his hands began to wander when she stayed the night just a few days into her third week of healing she was losing her battle.
He whispered raunchy filth into her ear, rubbing and grinding against her inner thigh and moving closer to her crotch. One intense drag against her had her wincing and her mouth falling open.
Sebastian immediately stopped, cupping her face in his palms. “What’s wrong, love? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”
She finally broke down, just three days before his birthday she felt like it was unavoidable at this point. She flashed a shy smile, looking up at him cheekily. “So you know how I talked to you about getting a piercing right?”
Sebastian’s lust lidded eyes popped and she swore she saw them sparkle. “You didn’t.” He looked down between them as if he’d see it through her clothes. He looked back up with wide eyes. “Holy shit…what did you get pierced?”
She laughed and rolled him off of her, carefully shimmying out of her pajama shorts and spreading her legs for him. “Surprise! Happy Birthday.”
His eyes darkened and he looked up, licking his lips. “Gods I’ve missed your pussy…and now she’s all pretty for me. God you know you didn’t have to do that.”
She smiled, blushing as he looked back down in awe. “I wanted it. It wasn’t just for you, promise. What do you think?”
He licked his lips again and she practically moaned from the look on his face. “How long till it’s healed?”
She bit into her bottom lip nervously. “Healing time is 4-8 weeks and it’s been 3 weeks and 4 days.”
His eyes widened. “You got it to be healed perfectly on my birthday…” he crawled up the side of her body, holding her neck carefully in his palm and he whispered against her lips. “Naughty girl.”
He kissed her deeply, tasting her and groaning into their kiss. She could feel his arousal against her thigh and it had her moaning into his kiss. He pulled back, eyes dark and lusty. “You can’t make those sounds, not when I still need to let that pretty little pussy heal up baby.”
She practically whined against his lips. The soreness had long since disappeared and she knew if she kept things clean that it would likely be fine for them to fool around a bit. She pushed at him till he was shoved out of bed and standing beside it, confused. “You’ve showered, right?”
He nodded, a confused tilt of his chin as she waved him towards the bathroom. His gray shorts doing very little to cover all the freckles littering his skin or the bulging mass thickening between his legs. “Go wash your hands then come back to bed.”
His eyes bulged and he hurried to the bathroom. He came back quickly, sliding into bed with her. She could smell his hand soap and smiled up at him as he crowded over her. “What are you comfortable doing? I don’t want to hurt you.”
She reached between them, palming his erection through the sweatpants he wore and hummed softly with approval. “I need this tonight, that is, if you’ll give it to me.”
He ground against her hand, leaning down to nuzzle into her neck and inhale her scent. He groaned, rolling his hips harder before frustration pulled somewhere inside him and he reached down to free his aching cock. It sprung free, cool air kissing his swollen leaking tip, silver barbell glinting in the low light. “Gods I’ve needed your pussy.”
She giggled breathily as he notched himself at her entrance, sitting up to watch the head of himself disappearing, his eyes fixed eagerly on her brilliant new piercing. His mouth practically watered with the urge to roll his tongue against it, use his tongue to flick the jewelry over her sensitized clit. “Does it increase your stimulation?”
She nodded, gasping as the head of his cock sunk inside. She was tight from their lack of fucking and she felt him pulse excitedly from inside of her walls. “Y-yes, even just cleaning it and looking at it in the shower, whenever I bump it, feels so good.”
He groaned in agony, shutting his eyes and sliding another inch or so inside, rolling his hips to increase her friction and spread the wetness. “Gods your so fucking tight. Been too long since you've been stretched around my cock, love.”
She nodded, gripping his shoulders. His hand slid down, barely pressing against the jewelry and she cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. Holding himself back was going to be a feat and a half.
He sunk the rest of the way inside her and she constricted around him. He nudged the jewelry against her clit again and her head tossed backwards in pleasure. The sight of her falling into pleasure was absolutely breathtaking. He groaned, adjusting to straddle on leg, bringing the other so her knee hooked up over his shoulder, now spread apart his pubic bone ground against the piercing and had her moans heightening in pitch.
His thrusts were slow rolls that casually surged to desperately needy thrusts that he couldn’t hold back no matter how badly he tried. She felt far too good and it had been far too long. “God you’re cock, oh and the way your r-rubbing the piercing. Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”
He chuckled as she gripped the sheets and arched up as she tightened like a vice around him. He tried to keep a cocky tone in his voice but it came out far more strained than he’d hoped. “Oh yea? Already, baby? That little piercing really does help you out, doesn’t it?”
He pressed a thumb right over the jewelry and she lurched up, practically shrieking as she rippled around him, crashing over her edge so fast. He groaned, surging his hips through her orgasm till she finally stilled, loud cries dulling to whimpering coos.
He pulled out of her, having her look down at him in hazy confusion as he settled, laying himself between her legs, spreading her warm thighs open in front of him. She flushed all the way from her cheeks to her thighs as he groaned, spreading her open and grinding his hips against the bed, glutes flexing and drawing her attention before he whispered in a gruff tone. “Fuck it.”
He dove in, licking her cunt from her silky wet opening and up to her newly decorated clit. He moaned at the taste and she frantically reached for the mass of fluffy hair. “S-Seb you can’t! You just fucked me there!”
He made another groan, rolling his hips steadily against the mattress. “I don’t care. This pussy is mine and I’ll eat it whenever I want to. I don’t care if your fresh out of the shower or freshly fucked and filled with my cum. I’ll taste you whenever the fuck I feel like it.”
Heat pooled deliciously between her legs as his tongue flicked precariously over the jewelry through her hood. He teased it over her clit, ran his tongue below it and tortured her with direct pressure that had her absolutely wild and all the while his hips never stopped against the bed.
The sight from between her legs had her quickly climbing the rungs of another orgasm. Her tugs in his hair became more urgent as her toes curled against the warm blankets and her thighs bracketed his head as she arched up into his talented tongue.
She came, shuddering and loose against his face and she didn’t stop till finally he lifted his head, licking her shiny wetness from his lips and chin.
Her eyes bulged when he sat up and she saw the strings of cum trailing from his cock to the blanket. Had he really fucked their sheets till he came while eating her out?
His eyes met hers and he glanced to where she was looking, chuckling and using that low satisfied tone that made her tingle. “How about I change the sheets while you shower off so everything stays clean?”
She swallowed, nodding and getting up into shaking feet and padding into his bathroom while he tossed sheets into the wash. He joined her and a whole new fresh wave of arousal rising inside of her as his erection slipped between the cleft of her ass and she was suddenly wondering if the slap of his balls against her clit as he fucked her from behind would feel as good as it sounded.
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aihoshiino · 2 days
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chapter 147 thoughts
you guys ever hear the tale of the monkey's paw. grants your wish but you suffer dire consequences as a result? just felt relevant to this chapter for some reason. anyway.
Chapters Since The 143 Kiss Happened And Went Completely Unacknowledged And Unaddressed Count: 4
I'm gonna be up front and say that while I really wanted to like this chapter and it has the bones of interesting ideas, so many of the existing issues with the Movie Arc just bring it crashing back down. I probably dislike it more than I necessarily should because knowing that this definitely is the end and seeing concretely in hindsight just how much time was wasted and how much excellent material has been squandered or flat out skipped over entirely just makes me want to put my head through a brick wall. And it just sucks because, like… man, I don't want to dislike Oshi no Ko! I really don't enjoy feeling like I'm just putting negativity out each chapter because when the story hits, it hits so fucking good!! The Movie Arc has been clunky but it's had some truly breathtaking individual moments and character beats that make me remember why I fell in love with the series so deeply but then chapters like this come along and I wonder why I'm even bothering to keep reading.
anyway. Anyway.
To my genuine shock and surprise, the RBHK conversation happens entirely onscreen and isn't needlessly dragged out which I will take as a W at this point. What is less of a W is how just… underwhelming this ended up being? This is Hikaru's first meeting (that we know of) with the child he fathered and then essentially orphaned… at least as far as Ruby is concerned. So her total lack of reaction to him is baffling. The question currently seems to be whether Ruby is only pretending not to recognize him in order to try and pry the answer she's looking for out of him or whether Akasaka really, genuinely wants me to believe that Ruby does not recognize her father, when Akane recognized him on sight, he looks identical to her twin brother she spent 18 years growing up with and she is in the middle of MAKING A MOVIE THAT STARS HIM. If the latter is the intent then all I can say is that I feel genuinely fucking insulted on Ruby's behalf at her being dumbed down this badly and for myself as a reader that Akasaka thinks I'm stupid enough to buy this. So I am very much hoping it's the former.
The talk they go onto have is also………………………….. man. I want to like it. I really want to pull it apart and analyze it because it is fascinating. It's a really important look into Ruby's feelings and I even myself said this was something I really wanted to see Ruby dealing with - being faced with the realization that the person who killed her mother isn't some ephemeral faceless force of uncomplicated evil, but a fucked up human being who was hurt and suffering and who faced horrific and monstrous abuse just like Ai did. The idea of Ruby wrestling with her conflicting feelings of empathy and resentment, similar to Kana trying to reconcile her lingering hurt with her love for Ruby as her friend, is super compelling.
But like… she didn't! Akasaka having Ruby look into the camera and having her say "uhhh i was totally having all these deep and complicated feelings this whole time trust me bro" is the first we have heard Ruby struggle with literally any of this. It's yet another example of what I've been saying this whole time of Akasaka both lacking enough respect for Ruby to seriously interrogate her as a character and rushing her to the endpoint of what should have been long term characterization in lieu of showing us the work it takes to get there. Rather than organically weaving any of this into the prior story and letting us actually see Ruby work through this, she just starts awkwardly monologing about it to a conveniently placed guy who is, depending on your interpretation of the chapter, either some rando with an umbrella or the guy she's pretty sure killed her mom.
There is no reason her struggling to reconcile these contrasting feelings of resentment and empathy couldn't have been explored as the movie was being filmed. There were countless opportunities for this to have come up while the movie was filming the scenes dealing with Hikaru's abuse - we even get this set up in 139 during the filming of their first meeting but it gets derailed by a dumb brocon joke because I guess that was more important to spend pagetime on than the arc Akasaka is trying to suddenly pretend Ruby was having.
And it's not like it even matters! Unless the next arc is also going to be about 15 Year Lie where we interrogate the content of the movie not shown to us, Ruby's struggle here comes to nothing. That overhanging question of "Will Ai('s actress) forgive her killer or not?" is cut short and goes unanswered. So what was the point of this?
I also just really can't get my head around this continued thread of Ruby wanting to be an idol who 'surpasses' Ai. I had a whole rant about it here I ended up deleting lol but the long and the short of it is it feels entirely incongruous with the series' broader portrayal and Ruby's own attitude about chasing Ai's light and what being an idol did to Ai but at this point I've given up.
The exchange with Kamiki that follows is like, the one part of this chapter I think is just uncomplicatedly interesting and worth interrogation. He actually gives Ruby a lot of genuinely good advice here - that she can only find an answer to that question by interrogating it herself and an answer from someone else won't solve the issue. Does she actually want suffering and revenge? Are those really at the core of who she is as a person?
The framing here is obviously and overtly sinister and suspicious and we're pretty clearly supposed to think he was about to shove Ruby down the stairs, but a few things jumped out to me. The first is that if you pay attention to the backgrounds, they seem to have actually already been close to if not at ground level by the time Akane caught up to them, so… what exactly was a push from that height going to do if he did, in fact, push her?
Not only that but uh… holy shit! His white hoshigan!!!!
Like, am I misremembering, or is this not the one and only time we have ever seen adult Hikaru - maybe even the real Hikaru full stop - without black hoshigans??? Given what we've seen of him so far and how the black hoshigans have been used as a symbol, if he really was about to kill Ruby… where did THAT come from?
Added together with the deeply sympathetic portrayal of his younger self in the movie, it continues to raise a lot of questions for me as to exactly what we're supposed to be thinking of Hikaru and how we're supposed to feel about him that I am finding very compelling. ambiguity enjoyers when the
NINO IS HERE!!!! MISS NINO I'M FREE THURSDAY NIGHT IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO HANG OUT
Joking aside, I'm really glad Nino is here because it implies her whatever the fuck is going on situationship with Kamiki is going to continue into the final arc(s?) of the series and that we'll get to see more of her as a result. Nino's been one of my favourite OnK characters since I first read 45510 so any more content of her in the main story is a treat.
Kamiki's words about the movie killing him via public opinion also lines up with what I was expecting to happen more or less… I'm curious to see how this is all going to play out and what this means for Aqua given that, if last chapter is anything to go by, he's still very much struggling with suicidal ideation. can someone PLEASE give my son a bone crushing hug.
akane stalking kamiki is up there as one of the funniest things ever in this manga btw. what is wrong w her <3
This is unfortunately where me having nice things to say about this chapter ends because the chapter - and therefore the Movie Arc as a whole - ends with this transparently rushed sequence absolutely mach speech blasting through the remaining material of the movie in one and a half's pages worth of silent single panels. Honestly, I really can't properly articulate how mad and frustrated I am about this lmao. It really just feels like Akasaka admitting to the reader that he's stopped giving a shit about what the movie was supposed to be about. The HKAI breakup that was given a huge amount of setup and weight at the start of filming? Ai's pregnancy? AI'S DEATH???? It's all skipped over and brushed aside as if it never mattered in the first place. Never mind any of the interesting characterization we could've gotten out of it. Never mind that the Movie Arc was promised to be about Ai and untangling her past. Never fucking mind Ruby having literally any interiority about having to act out the death of her beloved mother and reliving the event that destroyed her and her brother's lives. If Akasaka doesn't care, why should I?
It feels like a slap in the face for getting invested in the story's promises and trying to engage with it. But of course, I'm going to be back like a clown doing just that when the next chapter drops anyway.
at least we're finally moving on to a new arc but by god. at what fucking cost.
break next week……………………………………………..
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elisaintime · 1 day
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Woah, I must have missed something, why are people jumping down your throat?
From what I can gather at this point, it seems like they feel like anyone who likes Anne Rice herself and the books better than the show=automatically racist. Even if they ALSO enjoy the show and support the race change of the characters and all the racial conversation the show incorporated into its adaptation.
Personally, I think it does a disservice to the fandom to assume that the only reason one could like the books over the show is because of racist reasons. Anne's books speak to so many people in so many ways, especially those who have ever felt like outcasts or apart from mainstream society, and many fans have extremely personal connections to the books for a huge variety of reasons.
Like I said in my videos, I was excited and intrigued to see this AU version of the story (I love AUs!) but my complaints with the writing of the episodes mostly came back to when the show was trying to stick TOO MUCH to the books.... Because the show was really making its own thing with its own versions of the characters and all these new ideas, but then suddenly it would shove in a scene/dialogue straight out of the books which would contradict or make no sense with everything else the show had already worked to set up with the new direction it was taking itself.
Critiquing sloppy/weak writing does not mean I or any other fan who feels the same is doing it for racist reasons. Much of my criticism was about how the scripts changed Lestat's character to make him so much worse than he was in the books (which would be fine, it's their story, whatever--except the show runners told us over and over again that the whole reason Louis was doing a second interview was so that this time we could see the real version of Lestat and how Louis felt about him instead of the mean, insulting version he gave in the first interview). There was a lot promised by the showrunners about what their adaptation would be like that was not delivered ("closer to the books than the 1994 movie," "true to the spirit of Anne Rice" etc). The entire reason I made my videos was to evaluate how well the show measured up to those promises.
Worse than making Lestat so irredeemable, the way the first season ended in a way that made so many fans believe that Louis might have been lying about everything didn't sit well with me at all--it's a harmful stereotype to make the black man a liar, especially when it comes to abuse. I know the "the DV didn't actually happen and black Louis was lying or mind controlled by his evil non-white boyfriend" became a running fan theory, but I personally don't believe it one bit. But I can see why so many fans do--again, sloppy/weak writing on the show's part.
Like I said in my video, the only thing Louis actually lied about in ep7 (and he was lying to himself, not deliberately lying to Daniel) was the depth of his love for Lestat at the end. And that's entirely canon for Louis to deceive himself about--admitting how much he truly loves Lestat always came hard for him. I personally don't think it's going to turn out that anything Louis told us in season 1 was a lie. I think the show would have revealed that at the end of the season, not waited another season (or two or three) to reveal that. And the theme of season 2's promotional material has all been about memory, not honesty. I don't think Louis could mistakenly remember getting dropped from a mile in the sky and the months/years of recovery afterward, so I personally think all those memories were real.
The first three episodes of season 1 made Louis's struggle with race its primary focus, and the series description began with how Louis was chafing at society as a black man. But then from episode 4 on, the focus of the show shifted entirely. Obviously racism still existed in Louis's world, but the show pushed it all entirely to the background with little things, like segregation on the bus, and we saw the characters quietly taking in stride, not making any plot out of it. Suddenly all of Louis's character-driving moments weren't about that anymore and we were in a whole new story, when his battle against racism had been the entire theme of the first three episodes. This was something I noticed and pointed out in my videos--I didn't say it was a bad thing (after all, seeing people be racist to Louis on screen, while "realistic," isn't exactly fun for anyone, and we'd already seen plenty), but I did think the sudden dramatic shift in story focus weakened the show's themes and throughline.
Again this comes down to writing, and the premise/script was written by white people. I think they could have done much better with much more non-white involvement on the writing level. I think the show could have been stronger with some more care taken to create consistency and smoother transitions between episodes (like when they take Claudia out to feed in episode 4, suddenly all the race riots are gone, when everything was on fire 2 hours ago). It's common for shows to have each episode written by a different person, even though they all collaborate in a writer's room, but to me it felt like the show lacked efficient script supervision to make sure all the scripts flowed into each other without any contradictions or inconsistency.
When I talked about these things in my videos, when I said I would have liked the show to do better with the way it missed the mark sometimes in handling racial aspects (even though other parts I commended as being great), and the way I critiqued the inconsistencies and contradictions, some people took that to mean I hated the show entirely. The point of my videos was to see how well the show measured up to Rolin Jones's promises that it was so faithful and respectful to the spirit of the books and that all he wanted to do was honor Anne's work. I know the books back and forth, enjoy having a ND hyperfixation that gives me near-encyclopedic knowledge of the texts and Anne as an author. So people ask me questions about them all the time, especially in comparison to the adaptations. Who better to make videos evaluating how well the show measured up to RJ's promises and claims of faithfulness? But some people took me comparing the show to the books to mean I thought it was a bad thing that they weren't the same, and I hated the show entirely for not being the same as Anne wrote it, and therefore that meant I (and anyone else who loves the books) was racist 🤷
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