#I wonder why the kidnapping victim you abused would feel the need to regain some of the power you stole from him as an individual

[cypheragent]

i feel like no one in mgs fandom really talks about it this way and i guess it's because kaz is a horrible person and for that matter pretty much everyone in mgs is. or at least major characters in the big boss era games are. and while i am glad as a fandom that we just accept everyone sucks and enjoys it anyway, there are nuances within horribleness, especially on the interpersonal side of things, and like big boss abused kaz lol. kaz is an abuse victim and big boss abused him. idk why this isn't talked about more because it was all kinda really terribly fucked up when you honestly think about it. and i say this as someone with bbkaz brainrot like that's flavor but holy shit, the abuse and brainwashing bb put kaz through was kind of insane. the thing about kaz is that he's not unique like at all when it comes to the people who make up the MSF and diamond dogs. he was captured by bb and beaten down until he could only say yes. and he deludes himself into thinking otherwise, he pretty much feels a need to talk about the whole thing like it was his idea. but like it wasn't, right. bb had him under threat of torture. no fucking wonder kaz feels a need to go behind his back and regain a sense of control.

and like bb beats kaz out of jealousy and possessiveness. like. that's really what's happening in the sauna scene if we're being honest. like yes it's insane but it is also. a bit sinister and frankly pretty dubious on the consent front? bb demands kaz to strip, kaz seems pretty hesitant, bb proceeds to essentially molest him while kaz asks what he's doing. AND during all his bb is interrogating him about his sexual encounters. and then beats him for it. i mean absolutely we can have a discussion about the ethics of kaz fucking a bunch of women he has power over... and being a general objectifying misogynist lmao. but is it really about that for bb? maybe somewhat. obviously not entirely. that he's doing it in large part out of possessiveness and jealousy over kaz is pretty obvious. and like i think people are inclined to justify the physical abuse because kaz can certainly hold his own against bb, and yeah in the end they laugh about it but um... that doesn't justify it lol. like if anything that kind of attitude is how a lot of people justify male on male abuse, especially in the context of queer male relationships.

and then the whole venom situation is just incredibly fucked up to be honest. aside from the fact that bb essentially ghosted kaz when their relationship was such that he deserved communication and an explanation, bb allowed kaz to be tortured for over a week. and if we assume venom and kaz's relationship was sexual at all (which i mean... probably, imo, though you could just as easily deny it i guess) that is a whooooole fucking can of consent worms.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Cross My Heart - CH.01

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Abusive behavior towards a spouse, angst.

WC: 2913

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s like any other day in her boring life, really. 

Chuck, her husband, has already left to do whatever he’s doing. She doubts that it’s work but what does she know, really. 

She was still sleeping when he left. He’s mostly up before the break of dawn, something with time zones and new deals. But she guesses it’s also because he doesn’t really want to see her and he’d rather go out early to avoid the awkward mornings together.

Y/N gets out of bed and hops into the shower. Afterwards, she dresses to impress, because that’s what people expect of her. They expect of her to always look presentable and the paparazzi are everywhere. 

She walks along the landing, her heels clicking on the marble flooring as she descends the stairs. 

While she passes the living room, she sees a stack of mail on the sideboard by the door. Chuck must have taken in the mail and put it there before he left. She stops to look through the stack. There’s the usual letters, bills and mortgages they need to pay, which is not really her concern since Chuck takes care of their finances. 

She used to do it, though. But about three years back, Chuck told her that she shouldn’t hurt her pretty head by worrying about bills and he took over. He was adamant about it and there’s nothing she could have said to make him change his mind. Not that she hasn’t tried. She graduated summa cum laude from Stanford and now she’s just a really bored housewife.

Chuck didn’t even finish College. Dropped out and worked his way up at a record label, and when he had had enough, he split from them and opened his own, not without taking all the talents with him which ended up in a big lawsuit and he had to settle the huge bill. 

Y/N met Chuck in College, they kept contact after he dropped out and after her graduation, they got married in Vegas. Not really a thing fairy tales are made of, she knows. Chuck was great at first and let her be part of his imperium. That was until he thought that his wife shouldn’t be working so hard. She basically got degraded from being a strong woman who still had her future ahead of her, to becoming someone's arm candy. Became something he can parade around. 

Their relationship changed after maybe the first two years. She’s been with him for so long, she can’t even remember when it all really started. His record label took off, everybody was talking about Apocalypse Records, he was praised, had so many articles in magazines about how he’s a self-made millionaire. Little do they know that she was the one who emptied her trust fund in order to support him at the beginning of his career. 

Y/N’s still skimming through their mail until an envelope catches her attention. There’s her name scribbled on it, no address, no stamps. She weighs the envelope with her hand, feels something hard and heavy, heavier than sheets of paper at least. She hooks the nail of her pinky finger into the latch and opens it, the content flutters to the ground. 

Pictures, she realizes, and then she squats and picks them up. Her heart stops.

They are all pictures of her. A picture of her while she’s out shopping, a picture while she’s having lunch on her own. Pictures of her sleeping in her bed in her own home. 

Oh my god.

Her hand’s are shaking as she reads the letter. 

  MRS. SHURLEY, 

THE SAME LETTER WITH THE SAME CONTENT HAS BEEN SENT TO YOUR HUSBANDS OFFICE AS WELL. 

WHAT DO WE WANT YOU MAY ASK?

THE ANSWER IS: WE WANT YOU.

  PS. IT’S NOT REALLY OUR MODUS OPERANDI TO INFORM OUR VICTIMS BEFOREHAND BUT WE LIKE TO PLAY WITH YOU, SO.

  PPS. HAVE A GOOD DAY.

 Y/N feels nauseous but she manages to pull herself together enough to grab her keys by the door and walks out to get into her car. 

On her way over to Chuck’s company, she tries to call him but it goes right into his voicemail. 

She arrives and nods at the security guy before taking the elevator up to the top floor. Chuck’s secretary stops her as soon as Y/N steps out, but she wouldn’t let herself be stopped so she walked right into see something she probably shouldn’t.

Chuck’s bend over his desk, his face buried in the cunt of his assistant. 

She slams the door close loudly, for the fucking dramatic effect, which makes Chuck jump and he looks at her, startled, the juice of his assistant still drips down his chin. The assistant screams and scrambles from the table, covers herself up with both her hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I being too loud?” Y/N says, storms in and slams the letter onto Chuck’s desk. It’s soaked in the assistant's wetness. Katy, Kathy, Karen? She can’t remember. 

“What the fuck!” Chuck shouts out.

“Karen? Is it?” She turns to his assistant.

“No, it’s Kacy.” 

“Awe silly me,” Y/N grins, “I knew it was something with a K .”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Chuck growls and something with a K is getting dressed.

“Read it.” Y/N just says, ignoring the assistant. She wonders if something with a K knows that she’s not the only one. Y/N for her part stopped having sex with Chuck already three years after their marriage, when she found out that he’s been fucking all the other whores he meets. They’ve mostly been ignoring each other since, but they have to keep up the facade, mainly because Chuck can’t afford to lose out on divorcing her. 

Something with a K slips out of the door and Chuck sits down on his desk, the swelling in his pants disappeared. Not that there was much to see in the first place.

“Is this a fucking prank? Why do they want me?” She asks Chuck and he’s still frowning while reading it. 

“I don’t know? Maybe they want to kidnap you? Get money from me?”

She laughs. Loud and sharp. 

“If they are watching me, they’d know that you don’t fucking care about me!”

“That’s not true, Y/N.”

“Oh, please! When was the last time you were here for my birthday? When was the last time we shared a meal together and I’m not talking about the outings we have to boost your fucking company!”

“I might not love you anymore but I still do care about you.” Chuck says, his voice is calm and she wonders if it’s sincere. She can never read him. Well, at least he’s being honest when he says that he doesn’t love her anymore, she has to give him that. Strangely, it doesn’t hurt as much as she thought it would.

“Go wait in the record studio. You’re safe there. I’ll get my team together, see what we can do. Does the police know?”

“I haven’t contacted them.” 

“I’ll do it. Go.”

*

She’s pushing around some buttons as she sits in the chair in the record studio, waiting for Chuck to come get her. Maybe she shouldn’t play with them because Chuck will probably get mad when all the buttons are at the wrong places.

Y/N smirks at the thought that Chuck would be pissed, and begins to start pushing at more buttons and messing the whole studio up. For fucking good measure.

Time passes and she looks at her watch. She’s been in here for almost two hours already. Lunch time came and passed. Maybe Chuck forgot about her? She wouldn’t put it past him. 

The door opens with a bang and she has to laugh. Chuck’s always so fucking dramatic. He walks in and closes the door behind him while she gets up from her chair.

“Okay, the police came and confiscated the letter and pictures. They did really send another copy to my office.”

“Crap. Do I need to talk to them?”

“Not yet,” Chuck sighs, “Here’s how it goes. I hired a bodyguard for you, he’ll protect you.”

“This is ridiculous!” Her lips twitch at the anger she feels, “I don’t need a bodyguard! Like really Chuck, who’s going to come after me? This is a joke. I don’t get it, I mean I know that you are struggling at the moment with signing on new talents and keeping old ones, so I doubt that someone can really dig for gold right now!”

She proceeds to walk away and out of here, but Chuck pulls her back by her arm, slams her against the wall and claws his hands around her throat. “If you tell anyone that I’m in a financial crisis, I swear!”

Y/N opens her mouth to protest but angry Chuck is not her favorite Chuck so all she can push past her lips is, “Okay,” 

Chuck rarely gets physical with her, so it’s a complete surprise and she’s shocked at the pain he inflicts her.

“Good. Let’s play nice, shall we?” Chuck whispers into her ear and then he lets go of her. 

Her hands immediately fly to her throat, and she has to cough. 

Chuck waits for her to regain her composure before he opens the door again to call someone in, “Mr. Winchester?”

“Yes, sir.” He hears a voice but doesn’t recognize it. She’s never heard it before but she likes how deep and low it is. Feels that the two words alone soothes her aching soul.

Chucks walks back further into the room, and someone else is joining them too. She almost gasps out loud when she sees Mr. Winchester. He’s tall and broad, wears a black suit. He has a light scruff, the tie is neat and sits right at the center, and when he smiles and nods at her, she can see the crinkles around his eyes. His face is sprayed with little freckles. Mr. Winchester’s eyes are green.

“Honey, this is Mr. Winchester. He’s an ex-marine and he’s your bodyguard.”

Mr. Winchester’s green eyes stay on her before his gaze travels to her throat. He frowns then but he doesn’t say anything.

“Chuck, I don’t need a bodyguard,” She tries to reason with her husband.

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N. We’ve been through this. You will do what I say and you’ll let Mr. Winchester do his job.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes at Chuck before she purses her lips into a thin line, “Fine!”

 *

 “You okay, Mrs. Shurley?” Mr. Winchester asks her when she settles next to him. Apparently, she’s not even allowed to drive her own car anymore, “Did he hurt you?”

So, he did notice it.

She shakes her head, “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Mr. Winchester frowns, the crease between his eyebrows deepens but he doesn’t press any further, just sends her a courtesy nod.

There’s silence between them and Mr. Winchester starts the engine to which she then asks him if he could take her to the next coffee shop.

He answers short, “Sure.”

And with that, Mr. Winchester drives off.

She watches him while he drives, tries to be subtle about it. 

“What’s your name?” After a while she asks him bluntly, and she doesn’t know if he’s even allowed to tell her but the silence in the car is killing her.

“Dean.”

“Dean? Can I call you Dean?”

He chuckles, “Of course, Mrs. Shurley.”

His answers are short, quick. He doesn’t look at her once. 

“You can call me Y/N.”

Dean doesn’t answer. 

She offered to buy Dean a coffee and something to eat too but he said that he wasn’t hungry or thirsty, so she took her coffee to go. It’s best if they get it over with, she thinks. He can drop her off and go about his day. And she can go into sulking. Maybe she’ll call her friend, Meg, and tell her the newest episode of dickhead Chuck.

Back home, she thought that Dean would leave her be but no, he gets out of the car and is right behind her when she unlocks the front door. 

“Don’t you have anywhere you should be? Maybe another bodyguard job?” She asks him curiously. 

Dean shrugs, “You’re my only priority.”

Wow, it has been too long since she’s someone’s priority. And she doesn’t know what it is but it makes her blush and her heart thumbs ridiculously fast in her chest.

Just when she opens the door to step in, she lets out a yell. 

Dean immediately draws his gun, grips her by the arm and pulls her back, acting like a human shield for her. “What?” He hisses while he tilts his head back to ask.

She, on the other hand, freezes when she sees Dean’s gun, “You have a gun?”

He looks at her with one raised eyebrow, “How else should I be able to protect you, Mrs. Shurley. Now tell me, what is it?”

“Look for yourself,” She whispers. 

She peeks from behind him, sees the overturned furniture in her home, sees the feathers laying around which spilled out from the pillows, sees that the walls and whole floor have been drenched in some kind of red paint that looks awfully like blood. Maybe it is blood because there’s this metallic smell in the air. 

Oh my god . If it’s really blood, who's blood is it?

“Fuck,” Dean mutters under his breath and she guesses that he too, didn’t think when he took over the job, that it’ll be this intense. 

“Where’s your room?” Dean asks, as they step inside. Their shoes are sticky with blood and they have to be careful not to slip and fall. 

“Upstairs.”

“Okay, follow me.” Dean stretches out a hand for her to take and she places her small ones in his. 

Dean’s hand is big.

Together they go up the stairs and to her surprise, her bedroom still looks the same as when she left it. They just made a mess out of the first floor. She thinks it’s shady as fuck and she guesses that Dean feels the same.

He checks the perimeter and calls the police when he comes back empty handed while she still tries to get the sticky thing off her shoes. 

It isn’t long before some crime scene investigators arrive to take pictures of her house. They also taped everything and honestly, it scares her. She’s terrified that someone was able to come in and make a mess in her own house. 

Unfortunately, it is also not long before the tabloids got wind about it, and began to show up one by one.

After a while, Dean and her had been informed that the blood is indeed real. But it’s animal blood and not human, so at least there’s that. She shudders when she thinks about it. 

Who in the fucking right mind would play such a sick prank?

She and Dean are sitting on the stairs as they watch the police work on the first floor. Dean’s on the phone with Chuck for an awfully long time, and when she gets up to go to her bedroom, Dean follows her absentmindedly. That dude sticks to her like glue. She can’t even be alone in her damn house. 

“Yes, sir.” Dean says into the phone and then he hands his phone to her, “Your husband.”

“Chuck,” Her voice is all shades of annoyed. Maybe not particularly because of Chuck. More because her life has become a fucking mess.

“Yeah, pack your things, you’re going away for a while.”

“What?” Y/N nearly screams into the phone. 

“Our home is obviously not safe and I doubt that any other buildings in the city are safe right now. If it’s not the kidnapper or killer, it’s the tabloids.”

She sighs, feels helpless. This is not how she thought her life would become. “Where do I go?”

“Mr. Winchester will take you to a safe house.” 

She eyes Dean when Chucks talks and Dean just stares at her. His gaze is intense, and there’s something in his eyes too. Worry, probably, she doesn’t know because he’s so hard to read.

“I’m safe in my own house.” She replies, knows herself that it’s totally a stupid thing to say.

“Are you?” Chuck has an amused tone in his voice. She wonders how much he really cares.

She sighs, “For how long?” 

“For as long as it takes for the police to catch those bastards.” Chuck’s voice changes and he sounds as annoyed as her. He was always a good actor, she has to give him that.

“Fine.” 

“I’ll be in touch.”

She hangs up without saying goodbye and hands the phone back to Dean. He pockets it back and then he stands up a little straighter. “Y/N, please pack light, we don’t have much space on the motorcycle. I’ll be back here in an hour. Be ready by then.”

There’s something fluttering in her stomach when she hears him say her name. It sounds good out of his mouth and she can’t suppress the smile. 

“I thought you were not to let me out of your sight?” She’s merely teasing him.

“I need to go pack for myself either,” Dean explains and ignores her smile, “A policeman will stand guard until I’m back.” 

“Okay,”

With a courtesy nod, Dean leaves.

CH.02

[thefaeriequeenofthewest]

This Is My Confession

Request: @slightlyvicked asked: “Could I please request a Spencer x femOC one-shot where she's in love with him but haven't told him because she doesn't think he's interested, and they have a case with an UNSUB targeting women that looks similar to her, leading her to get kidnapped...”

Trigger warnings: torture, slight cussing

A/N: I cut the request short as to not spoil the ending! Hope this is what you were looking for. This was not proofread so please forgive me for any mistakes. Requests are still open at this time. 

I didn’t know how much more of it I could take. The way he walked, the way he talked, the adorable crinkle of his nose when something confused him. It was intoxicating, distracting, and totally not reciprocated by him. 

Spencer seemed to sense I was staring at him and raised his head, chocolate eyes confused. “Is there something I can help you with, Y/N?” 

I shook my head. “Nothing, Spence. We still on for a Star Wars marathon this weekend?” 

His eyes sparked with delight. “Absolutely.” His grin was dazzling. 

Spencer had been my best friend since I joined the BAU two years ago. It wasn’t long before I realized I was absolutely, hopelessly in love with him. And it also didn’t take me long to realize he probably didn’t feel the same. 

Spencer had been through a lot. If I’m being honest, I don’t blame him for not wanting to open up and be with someone. The woman he loved was killed in front of him. That kind of thing....that kind of thing changes a person. 

Before I could reply, JJ whisked past. ‘We have a case.” She beckoned us both towards the conference room, where the rest of the team was already waiting and ready. 

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“Does it scare you?” Spencer’s eyes were wary. We were on the jet heading to St. Augustine, Florida. Our case was gruesome. A sexual sadist was kidnapping women between the ages of 25-30, all with (Y/H/C) hair, (Y/E/C) eyes and similar body structures. All similar to me, actually. He was mutilating their bodies, torturing them before they died. There was evidence of sexual abuse as well. 

I knew if he was asking if the fact all the victims looked like me scared me. Prentiss had already floated the idea of using that to lure him out. “I’ll be okay, Spence. Once we figure out his hunting ground, I can lure him out and we will be done before you know it.” I shot him a smile, gripping his hand tight. “No need to worry about me, Boy Wonder.” 

He gave half-hearted smile in return. 

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He was hunting in a local bar called Red Rum. Like in the Shining. How original. A serial sexual sadist hunting in a bar that, spelled backwards, spelled murder. The irony of it wasn’t lost on any of us. 

I was lounging at the bar, twirling my straw around in my drink. Prentiss had dressed me in a black, form fitting black dress with a plunging neckline and red high heels. I was uncomfortable, but the outfit was necessary to draw attention. All of our victims had been wearing similar outfits at this bar at the time of their abductions. 

“Everything okay in there, Y/N?” Rossi’s voice echoed in my earpiece. The team was outside in a van; all except for JJ and Prentiss, who were across the bar watching me discreetly while they flirted with some guys. 

“I’m fine, Rossi. Nothing yet.” It had been about an hour and so far, nothing. I was beginning to think nothing was going to happen at all. 

I saw JJ excuse herself to leave to the bathroom. Prentiss continued talking with their companions. It was then I felt the eyes of someone on me. I turned my head slowly, making eye contact with a handsome, thirty-something year old man seated at a both. I shot him a coy smile, shifting in my seat to face him a little better. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head towards the back door. I nodded. He stood up and walked out, beckoning me to follow. 

“I think I’ve got him,” I muttered to the team, following. “Back door.”

“Gotcha. Stay safe, we’re coming around now. Whatever you do, Y/N, don’t---”

Whatever Spencer was about to say next was abruptly cut off as something solid crashed into the side of my head, sending me spiraling into a dark oblivion. 

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The world came flooding back with a throbbing pain and a blur of colors. My vision swam as I scrambled to my knees. My hands were shackled to chains that were bolted into the floor. He had stripped me down to nothing but my bra and underwear. I took a deep breath, blinking as my vision finally cleared. 

It appeared to be a warehouse. Along with my dress, my earpiece was gone, as was my cell phone, and gun that had been holstered underneath my dress on my thigh. So were my credentials. 

“Finally awake, slut?” The man from the bar snarled from where he was seated in a corner of the room, eyes shining with malice. “Took you long enough. We’ve got some business to talk about.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The team was in chaos. Everyone was back at the precinct, desperately trying to find where the UNSUB had taken Y/N. Garcia had flown in from Quantico and had been able to find footage of the man dumping Y/N into a van, but after a few streets, they disappeared. 

Or so they thought. 

“Guys! Guys, you’re going to want to see this.” Garcia looked up from her computer, eyes brimming with tears. 

As the team huddled around her, they all sucked in a breath. It was Y/N. A live stream had been set up by the UNSUB. Blood caked the side of her face. She was on her knees, staring defiantly at the man beside her. 

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N.” The man’s voice was sharp. He looked at the camera. “And hello, rest of the BAU.” Y/N’s eyes flickered with shock for the briefest of moments before regaining their composure. “I see you’ve found out where I like to find my little playthings.” He walked over to a table and unrolled the black cloth there, tools gleaming silver in the dim light. “Since you seem to be such a huge fan of my work, why don’t you see it first hand?”

“Are you able to find out where this is streaming from, Penelope?” Spencer’s voice was quiet and strained. Garcia nodded. “He’s jumping the signal but its amateur at best. I should be able to crack it soon.”

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I hadn’t expected him to taunt my team like this. The shock had startled me for a moment, but I couldn’t let him see any weakness. I watched as he picked up a scalpel and advanced towards me. He pressed the blade against my stomach. 

“We’re going to play a little game, Y/N.” He smelled of alcohol and tobacco. He brushed his lips against my cheek. “For every question you answer, if I think it’s the truth, I’ll withhold a cut. If I think you’re lying...” He wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Are you in love?” 

I blinked. “Currently? No.”

Pain shot through my stomach as he slashed. I bit down on my lip, drawing blood to keep myself from howling. 

“I don’t believe you.” He wiped the blade clean on his sleeve. “You tensed. So I’ll ask you again.” He leaned in. “Are you in love?” 

I took a shaky breath. “Yes.”

“Better,” he cooed, stroking my cheek. “Are you in love with me?” He tugged gently on my hair. “I think you are. I could tell by the way you were looking at me in that bar. The coy smile you flashed. I could tell you wanted me. You needed me. So tell me, Y/N, is it me you’re in love with?” 

“No,” I growled. He clicked his tongue in disappointment. He slashed again, carving across the curve of my breast. I whimpered, straining against my shackles. 

“Are. You. In. Love. With. Me.” He ground out. 

“I said no,” I spat back at him, baring my teeth. 

Another slash down my sternum. The fabric of my bra was coming undone, and I could see the lust and enrapture in his eyes at the sight. It made my stomach churn. 

“ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH ME?” He bellowed, pressing the blade against my throat, eyes raging like fire. 

“No. I’m in love with someone else,” I hissed. “Someone better than you, smarter than you, and kinder than you. Someone who would never hurt me, someone who would protect me and love me if he felt the same way. Spencer....Spencer would never treat me like this. How could you ever think I would love you?” His breath was ragged now, the blade pressing against my throat. I could feel the blood dripping. “You probably tried to get those other women to say they loved you too, didn’t you? But they rejected you. So you killed them.” 

He snarled, and I could feel his arm shaking. I saw it in his eyes then. He was going to kill me, too.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No. I’m in love with someone else,” Y/N’s voice was a soft through the door as Spencer and Luke prepared to barge in. “Someone better than you, smarter than you, and kinder than you. Someone who would never hurt me, someone who would protect me and love me if he felt the same way. Spencer....Spencer would never treat me like this. How could you ever think I would love you?”

Spencer stifled a gasp. Luke looked across the frame at him, eyebrows raising in surprise. 

“DIE, BITCH!” The exclamation shook both the FBI agents out of their shock. Indicating to their S.W.A.T. team behind them, they barged in. 

“FBI! Chris Cortez, put the scalpel down.” Spencer’s voice was low with warning, his gun aimed at the man’s head. The scalpel was still pressed against Y/N’s neck, where blood flowed freely, mingling with the blood from wounds across her stomach and chest. Her bra was barely covering her anymore. Spencer kept his eyes plastered on Cortez. 

“Guess we’re both going down, baby,” Cortez cooed. In one motion, he made to slice Y/N’s neck. 

He didn’t get the chance. Spencer took his shot. Y/N slumped to the ground as Cortez was blown back from her by the force of the shot, her eyes closing.

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When I woke, everything was a blinding white. The soft beeping of monitors let me know I was safe. I was in a hospital. 

I groaned, blinking as I took in the people around me. Garcia smiled, relief shining on her face. Spence was seated in a chair close to my bed, his hand gripping mine. 

“Hey there, Y/N. You gave us all a scare there for a bit.” Garcia bent down to give me a soft hug. I raised my free arm to grip her back. 

“Thanks for finding me, Penny.” I murmured into her hair. “I know you found me through his stream. Thank you.” She nodded, tears splashing onto my shoulder. 

“Would you like some Jello?” She choked out, standing up. “I’ll go get you some.” She bustled off, leaving me alone with Spencer. 

The reality of what I said hit me. Spencer had walked into the room shortly after that confession. Which means.....

“You heard what I said, didn’t you?” My voice was barely a whisper. 

He nodded slowly. Heat rushed to my cheeks. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer. I never wanted you to find out like that. I-I know you probably don’t feel the same way, so please don’t feel like....like this needs to change anything.” I couldn’t look at him. 

“Y/N, look at me.” I sighed and looked up, meeting his doe eyes. “You know what the only thing that bothered me was?” His voice was soft. “That you said if Spencer felt the same way.” He stood up and moved to sit on the side of my bed, still gripping my hand. “You didn’t consider that maybe I do? Maybe I always have?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I...yes, I don’t express feelings well and yes, I don’t open up as much since Maeve but Y/N....” His face was tragic and beautiful. “I love you, too. I’m sorry you couldn’t tell.” He bent slowly, his lips softly brushing against mine. “I love you,” he breathed again before closing the space between us and pressing his lips to mine. 

“Oh thank GOD.” Penelope’s voice startled us apart, Spencer jumping to his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets sheepishly. “I was wondering how this was gonna play out!” 

I laughed, her excitement mirroring my own. “We both were, Penny.” I smiled at Spencer, taking his hand again. 

“We all were,” he agreed, bending down to kiss me again, his lips parting into a smile against mine. I smiled back, twining my hand into his hair to pull him closer. 

I heard Penny leave. But at the moment, I didn’t care she had run away with the Jello I was promised. 

I had something far sweeter to savor. 

[sebeth]

Babs-a-thon, part 4

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 Part 3 of the Babs-a-thon ended with Barbara thrown brutally, pointlessly in the fridge.  

Batman Chronicles #5 - “Oracle: Year One – Born of Hope” by John Ostrander, Kim Yale, and Brian Stelfreeze.

Chuck Dixon and Gail Simone often receive the credit for the development of Barbara Gordon in the 1990s and 2000s – and rightfully so.  However, Barbara’s true rescuers were John Ostrander and and Kim Yale.  The duo engineered Barbara’s escape from the fridge and transformed her into the Oracle in the pages of the Suicide Squad.  

Oracle debuted in the Suicide Squad but I will re-cap the Batman Chronicles first as it takes place in the immediate aftermath of the Killing Joke.

Barbara’s in the hospital suffering a range of emotions, mostly regret: “I can’t believe I was such an idiot.  I’m Barbara Gordon.  My father – my adoptive father – is Commissioner Gordon of Gotham City.  I’ve lived in Gotham City most of my life. I’m no novice.  I ran one of the largest libraries on the east coast.  I was Batgirl, for crying out loud!  So one night I hear a buzz at our front door and I just go out and open it!  I don’t use the peephole to see who it is, I don’t have the chain on, I just go and open the door!  What was I thinking of?  It was the Joker and he had a gun and there was a flash and there’s blinding pain inside me and I’m falling and I hear myself screaming and my Dad shouting and…and…! I don’t remember much else, fortunately. I’m not sure what else happened except I woke up in the hospital with part of my spine shot away.”

The above quote demonstrates how utterly stupid – and out of character – it was for Barbara to simply answer the door in the Killing Joke.  Babs lives in Gotham City and is the daughter of the police commissioner – she knows better.  The Batgirl Special shows Barbara using the peephole before opening the door for Marcy so it’s a standard precaution.  Another note – Babs was living on her own in the Batgirl Special – why was she living with her father?

Barbara doesn’t mention her term as a Congresswoman so I’m assuming it’s been retconned at this point.

Batman stands vigil at Barbara’s hospital bed.  Babs regains consciousness and she is furious: “Had he been using a regular bullet, I would have been dead before I hit the floor.  And he didn’t want that, no.  He wanted me alive.  Not because I have any intrinsic worth or meaning to him, of course.  No.  Shooting me…kidnapping my dad…it was all just a way to get at you.  Do you understand how humiliating, how demeaning, that is? My life has no importance save in relation to you!  Even as Batgirl…I was perceived just as some weaker version of you!”

“I heard how you two stood there, laughing over some private joke.  Tell me – was it me?”

Batman can’t respond and leaves the hospital.

“God, I hope I’ve hurt him. It’s nothing compared to the pain I’ve felt – or will feel.”

I hate the “Batman and Joker” share a laugh – utterly loathe it.  Completely out of character.  I don’t buy and defense of it.  I’m glad Babs let him have it.  I’m not sure how Barbara heard about it – were they still laughing when the police officers arrived? If so, how can Commissioner Gordon stand to be in the same room as Batman?  The next time Jason complains Batman won’t kill the Joker Babs should respond with “At least they didn’t share a laugh over the situation”.

Babs is released from the hospital “ten weeks and three days after the Joker shot out my spine”.

The above quote gives us a nice timeline of events between the Killing Joke and A Lonely Place of Dying. Babs attended Jason’s funeral so his death was approximately three months after the Killing Joke.

Bab’s resents the media’s attention: “The press wouldn’t even have bothered if I hadn’t been your daughter, dad.  I’m a symbol. We’re big on symbols in Gotham. You refused to have police guarding our home.  Every other big city police commissioner has them.  But you wanted to symbolize how open your administration is…”

“And you got hurt because of it.  I’m sorry, Babs.”

“I am, too, Dad.  I am too…”

Barbara spends the next six months in physical and emotional therapy: “I had to accept I was never going to walk again…worst of all was the fear I felt – of being physically helpless, unable to defend myself, of having no sense of self, of feeling that I meant nothing, that my life was over.  I sat in the back bedroom of my father’s apartment for weeks, afraid to go out, afraid of the next day.  And what would happen to me if – God forbid!  Dad should die or be killed?  How would I live?  On charity?”

Barbara’s encounters with Cormorant seem to have been retconned away which is unfortunate.  The Batgirl Special has Babs finally resolving the emotional trauma from her encounters with Cormorant.  Can you imagine what it would be like to finally have closure from the Cormorant incidents only to suffer a severely more traumatizing encounter with the Joker?

Babs decides she can no longer hide away: “I was tired of being a victim.  I had skills and abilities long before I was Batgirl.  It was time to make them work for me again. It was time to stop being afraid.”

Bab’s receives a grant from the Wayne Foundation and puts together a powerful computer set-up.

“One thing I knew how to do was research…I discovered an affinity for hacking, and I started to make some money.  I got into the internet before the general public really knew what it was.  And I discovered a world there…you didn’t even have to use your real name.  You were simply who you were online.  I found enormous freedom – and complete acceptance – there.  In a strange way, I became more real to me as well.  More content, more happy.”

“Then, one night at dinner, a chain of events began that led me to where I am now.”

Jim confides to Babs: “There’s this financier, a woman by the name of Ashley Mavis Powell.  We know she’s laundering money but we don’t know how. She does stuff with computers.  I know it’s your field, honey, but I hate ‘em!”

Babs researches Ashley Mavis Powell and discovers she’s a criminal called Interface and she is a “nasty piece of work”.  Interface has a “low-level metahuman talent that lets her interact directly with computers” and “she’s also a child abuser”.

Barbara decides to go after Interface via the computer: “She was elusive but I was determined and I had nothing else to do.”

Jim insists Babs get out more: “He was right, of course, but I didn’t like it.  I was a gymnast at one time, I was a dancer.  I loved how my body moved.  Now I just felt conspicuous and clumsy.  I used to walk everywhere and the traffic never bothered me.  Now, I’d come to a busy corner and I’d feel myself start to panic.”

Barbara is at an intersection when Ashley Mavis Powell approaches her from behind and throws her into traffic.  Fortunately, the oncoming traffic stops in time.

“She made me feel like a helpless victim again – and had laughed doing it.  Ms. Powell had just made the biggest mistake of her life.”

Yeah, Babs has definite issues with laughing over someone’s misfortune.

“I need a resource and not one from my Batman or my father.  One I would find on my own.”

Babs takes to the Internet, looking for someone who can teach self-defense to a wheelchair-confined individual.

Unknown to Babs, Batman responds (under his Matches alias) and arranges a meeting in Robinson Park.

Barbara meets an apparently homeless man at the park: “I take it you’re Babs.  A friend of yours told an acquaintance of mine about you. Don’t let the appearance fool you. My name’s Richard Dragon and I’m here to help you.  Maybe. First – tell me what you want.”

If I had to guess, the “friend” is Batman and the acquaintance is either Bronze Tiger or the Question.  Richard Dragon was the Yoda of the DC Universe from the late 1980s to the early 2000s.  He mentored the Bronze Tiger, Lady Shiva, the Question, Oracle, and the Huntress.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

“Fear’s useful in moderation.  What do you really want?”

“To walk again.  Can you fix that?”

“Nope.  That’s not what you’re really seeking.”

“I want my life back!”

“That’s who you were, not who you are.  Who are you?”

“I…I don’t know.  I don’t know if I ever knew…”

“Now you’re ready to begin. That’s what you’re hear to discover. And these may help.”

Richard presents Oracle with a pair of escrima sticks.

“And so began the weeks, the months, in the park, learning from a street bum named Richard Dragon the Philipine art of stick fighting called escrima.”

I wonder if Barbara and Helena ever bonded over their mutual mentor?  Did they ever realize they had a mutual mentor?

“The physical and mental discipline honed questions of my identity.  Strangely – or perhaps not so strangely – the answer came in the form of a dream.”

Babs – dressed as Batgirl – approaches an Oracle.

Babs informs the Oracle “I’ve lost so much.  I’ve lost everything I thought I was.  Who am I now? How do I go on?

The Oracle responds: “You have lost nothing that matters.  You have everything you need.  Everything before leads up to now and now leads to what shall be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Take away your mask and I will take away mine.  Then you will understand.

The ladies remove their masks and Babs realizes she is both Batgirl and the Oracle.

Babs awakens and realizes what she is going to do with Ashley Mavis Powell: “I realized that the Internet could be a mask as surely as any cowl.  I could assume an identity – and this time not a second-hand version of someone else.  This would be mine – my mask, my shield, my persona.”

The above quote is why I could never get behind Babs going back to the Batgirl mantle.  Even if her ability to walk had been restored in the pre-New 52, I think she either would have remained as Oracle or designed an entirely new alter ego.  Returning to Batgirl is as pointless as an adult Richard Grayson resuming the Robin mantle – you could do it but why would you?  Both Barbara and Richard are adults who have earned their adult identities – why put their training pants back on?

Oracle lures Interface into a cyber-trap that “catches her into a logic trap – endlessly repeating the same circuit over and over again at the speed of thought, unable to break free until I cut her loose.”

Oracle orders Interface to turn herself in or she’ll continue to locked in the cyber-trap.

Interface promptly turns herself in.

Babs meets with Richard Dragon in Robinson Park.  She informs Richard “I think I’ve found – well, not the answer but a start of the answer to my question.”

“Then you no longer need me. You know the forms.  Keep practicing.  Grow great, little spirit.”

“Thank you, Sensei. For everything.”

“A little over a year has passed since my old life ended, since I died and was reborn.  The shadows remain, but only to give contrast to the light. I am no longer a distaff impersonation of someone else.  I’m me – more me than I’ve ever been.  My life is my own.  I embrace it, and the light, with a deep, continuing joy.”

A great story that portrays the rage, fear, and humiliation in the immediate aftermath of Bab’s shooting and ends with her trademark determination to overcome and carve a life for herself.

Up next, it’s a Suicide Squad.