#he could've just been reserved and not quite sure who to trust yet - it's not like he knew maxtible was responsible for the whole thing

[a-b-riddle]

Taken Chapter Ten: A New Reality

Warnings: Religious Trauma, Cult, Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Non-Con, Dub-Con. Violence against women. Threats and intimidation. Childhood Trauma.

By the time Elizabeth finally pushed through the fog that had consumed her entire being it was well into the afternoon. Even if the storm clouds no longer loomed menacingly in the sky, the sun would be setting soon enough. She had been awake for nearly half an hour, but whatever Bucky had given her had kept her cognitive, but immobile.

Her body was heavy. Her limbs weighing her down into the soft, feathery duvet. The only sensation she could detect was the pain in her feet. A sharp, stinging pain.

'Those god damn pine needles.' She thought bitterly.

Although they stung, the small cuts in her feet would heal soon. A day or two of having to walk with caution. It wouldn't be nearly as bad as stone bruises.

She remembered running from the compound the first time. The padding of her bare feet had stepped on a rock in just the right (or more so wrong) spot. Pain scaled up from her heel to the back of her knees. It didn't make her fall, but slowed her down enough to be caught.

In all, she was never really good at running. Today's little attempt made that very clear. Hiding was her forte. Maybe if had she concealed herself somewhere in the woods she would have had a better shot of escaping the super soldiers.

But should've, would've, could've.

And before she could even think about making another attempt at getting away, she needed to be able to move.

Moving was the first step. She could figure out the rest later.

Elizabeth started wiggling her toes, gaining what control she could get over her body little by little. The remnants of the quaaludes still swam in her system. Any type of sedative always seemed to hit her harder than it would most people. She always blamed her size.

Yet, one would think after so many years she should have built some sort of tolerance by now. Granted, this was better than the K-comas of her teenage years but she had put on a considerable amount of weight since then. Quaaludes and ketamine were two different things, but her circumstances not so much.

Either way, she was rendered helpless.

Slowly, but surely she got enough stability and strength to pull the duvet off of her body. The covers feeling like they were filled with stones rather than of goose feathers. Although her skin had become slick with a thin sheen of sweat, she had no desire to get out from underneath the comfort and protection of the thick blanket.

But she needed to get up. She needed to move.

After a few feeble (and quite pathetic) attempts to push herself up, she accepted that she would just have to wait; wait for him.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Everything, all of it just seemed so surreal. If someone had told her what he would have done, she wouldn't have believed it. She knew Bucky.

Or at least she thought she did.

Bucky was kind and thoughtful. He was funny and made her feel like nothing bad could happen even as the world around them was falling apart. Bucky was good. Bucky loved her.

God.

He fucking said he loved her.

The weight those words carried meant nothing now. Someone who loves you wouldn't do this. And maybe he never really did love her. That was probably the most painful part of it all. Elizabeth had prided herself for keeping up that wall, holding her barrier strong.

But with Bucky... everything was just so easy. It was easy to let those walls crumble. She had let herself trust him with very little reservations and look what it had cost her. She had let herself dream too far from reality and it had cost her everything.

The reality was that Bucky was and is still capable of hurting her. The reality was she had essentially isolated herself from anyone who could potentially help her. The reality was she had let herself get into this situation. As much as she currently hated and wanted to blame Bucky for lying to her all this time, Elizabeth found the only person she could truly blame was herself.

The sound of the doorknob pulled her out of her self-induced guilt trip. In that time she never moved from her position on the bed. Laying on her back, staring blankly at the wall.

She tried to cast her eyes toward the door, lifting her head up almost hopeful. But the remembrance that it could only be one person made her feel foolish; her hope quickly dying.

It has him.

Of course it was him.

Nothing had physically changed about him; his still sporting the same shaggy hair cut. His eyes the same piercing blue. Yet, he looked entirely different. The sparkle gone from his smile. His face no longer one she could trust, seek comfort in.

"Hope you're feeling better." It was astonishing how casual he sounded. As if she wasn't his prisoner and this was still just their romantic couples getaway. He leaned against the door way. Hands buried in the pockets of his faded blue jeans. His Henley perfectly covering his toned arms.

Fucking. Asshole.

"I was hoping you wouldn't be out long, but I'm afraid you missed lunch." HA! As if she had any sort of appetite. It was a tie between his presence and the drugs still in her system that were causing her current wave nausea. She let her head fall back against the pillows, remaining silent. Staring at the ceiling as if it were the most intriguing thing in that moment.

It was easier to blink back the tears that were beginning to form. It was easier to not look at him. It was easier to hear Bucky's familiar voice when a complete stranger stood in his place.

Bucky let out a sigh. He had honestly prepared himself for an all out tantrum. Screaming, crying, things flying toward his head-- if she could have mustered up the strength maybe she would have. He had expected to be called a monster, a pervert and every other foul thing she no doubt thought of him now.

Her silence was worse.

Her silence meant that she was going to take a bit longer to break. She wasn't fighting him -- yet. It was the yet he hated waiting for. Would it be tomorrow? Next week? When would she finally make the attempt to escape?

It was all a waiting game and he had waited long enough for his little bird.

"Just wanted to check in. Wanted to see if I could get you anything." He was once more met with silence. Even the sound of her breathing was so soft even his enhanced hearing barely picked up on it. "Anyway, I'll be back to bring you down for dinner."

Elizabeth lifted her head up ever so slightly. Staring back at him so intently her gaze felt like it was going through him. He had expected her to hate him, prepared for it. He had gotten used to how she looked at him in both her bashful glances and smitten stares.

But he would be lying if he said it didn't slightly rattle him. He expected her to show some sort of emotion. Anger, sadness, fear, utter disbelief, but instead he got nothing. She had always been so easy to read. When she was nervous at their first encounter like a scared doe, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. How when she was happy she practically warmed up the room she was in. Elizabeth Snow had been an open book.

But as Bucky looked back at her, just as intently as she did him, he saw nothing. It didn't mean the anger or the fury wasn't there.

No.

She just did well at hiding it.

Bucky said nothing more before he gave a curt nod and shut the door behind him. When the door clicked shut, she didn't move a hair. She stared at the door waiting until she could hear his footsteps slowly fading before she laid her heavy head back down.

What Bucky didn't know was this wasn't her first time being caged.

By him? Yes. But she knew what he would expect. She knew he would expect her to cry and beg and plead. He would have his guard up no doubt; something she obviously should have done with him.

He would be waiting for her to attempt to escape. The windows were no doubt sealed shut. The doors locked and any possible exits secured.

All this was was a waiting game. She knew Bucky could only be on his toes for so long before he slipped. And if she needed to wait, so be it. Elizabeth had made the grim discovery that once you make your first attempt, they come down a million times harder to ensure you don't try it again.

She had gotten off easy in her opinion. Some drugs to knock her out and waking up in a most likely locked room. She wasn't 100% sure as she hadn't checked but it was a good guess. Bucky didn't know her past, but he wasn't stupid. He knew to lock the door behind him.

She needed to be able to keep track of time. Bucky said it had only been a few hours. Something about a missed lunch? Today just meant it was Day 1.

This was her starting point.

Bucky came back several hours later. Her window revealed a pitch-black scene where she could barely make out the outline of the trees; the moon hiding behind the clouds. She had finally managed to still upright, but still too disorientated to stand upright.

He was still wearing that stupid fucking shirt she had loved him in. "I made dinner." He said, almost like a parent speaking to a child they had scolded too harshly mere hours ago. His tone was soft, coaxing. It made her sick. "Why don't we go downstairs and eat?"

That part was ironically shocking given this whole situation. In their entire time together, Bucky had never once cooked dinner. Either she did or one of them got takeout. She knew it was a ploy.

That's what men did.

They would do something out of 'kindness' yet expect something in return. Bucky was no different than the rest of them.

Eventually after so many good deeds she 'owed' them. It didn't matter. A paid dinner, help moving, even walking her home just to make sure she got back to her place okay. It didn't matter. Nothing was really ever free. And all the help Bucky had given her in their time together had cost Elizabeth her freedom.

She nodded but made no attempt to move. She knew what she had to do but gave herself a minute to gather the strength to do it. Elizabeth took a deep breath in her nose before letting it out her mouth. 'I can do this.' She told herself.

"I need help." She said softly, careful to conceal her anger. Bucky approached her, prepared for her to do something that would only get her into trouble. Elizabeth remained as stiff as a board as he placed his arms underneath her; picking her up bridal style.

"If not given the circumstances, this would be pretty romantic." He tried to joke. She didn't react. Not a scornful glare, not so much as a side eye of disapproval. She kept her eyes down, staring at nothing in particular.

She remained just as stoic as he carried her out of the room and toward the kitchen. Given the fact that Bucky had never cooked a dinner, whatever he made didn't smell half bad. A cooked roast and vegetables was laid out on a silver platter that probably cost the equivalent of one month of rent for Elizabeth's long forgotten apartment. 

The kitchen island also had a plastic tub of what looked like microwaved mashed potatoes still in the black plastic container it came with along with. Hot rolls rested on the baking tray that Bucky had pulled out from the oven right before he went up to grab her. "It's nothing special." He sat her down on a hightop chair before picking up a fine china plate. He knew that although his spread wasn't exactly as put together as hers usually was, surely she would appreciate the gesture. "Eventually I'll start letting you cook again when I can trust you around sharp objects."

She knew it was meant to be a joke, but couldn't find the strength to give a half-ass sharp exhale through her nostrils in amusement. 'Nothing about this is funny.' She wanted to spit out, but held her tongue and kept her poker face.

Bucky took note of her silence to continue speaking even though all she wanted him to do was just shut the hell up.  "I'm not expecting you to be okay with this all at once." He said as he piled on a huge piece of meat on her plate along with some of the roasted mushrooms and carrots he didn't bother peeling before throwing them into the crockpot. "But you'll realize soon enough I only want the best for you. For us."

She sat quiet as he spooned on the mashed potatoes and a roll. Even is she were actually hungry--hell, even if she was down right ravenous- she still couldn't finish all of the food he had just scooped onto the plate he just put in front of her. 

Bucky gave himself the same heaping portions and sat himself opposite of her on the other side of the counter. "I would offer wine, but I don't think it would be a good idea with you still coming off of the sedative." How thoughtful. Now he was concerned over her well-being. 

"No wine, but could I have a knife. I need to cut the meat." She spoke evenly although she felt like Bucky could see the outline of her heart trying to pound its way out of her chest. 

"It's been cooking for hours. Use your fork." He poked the tender meat with his own fork to prove a point before putting it in his mouth. 

"I couldn't even get out of the bed. Do you really think I could hurt you with a butter knife?" She said it with a soft hint of humor in her voice, pretending that their entire situation wasn't fucked up. But she knew that was what was going to get her out of her. It's what saved her before. Pretending that she was docile. Pretending that she was obedient. 

Bucky gave a soft chuckle in response. He could see her light was still there. Not completely extinguished from the day's events. "I never know what toexpect from you, Birdie. Can't be too careful." Although the meal appearedappetizing enough, the false narrative of it all made her stomach churn indisgust.

She dug the side of her fork through the chuck roast. He was right. Fork tender.

They sat there in unbridled silence. Several minutes passing before Bucky was almost halfway through his meal and Elizabeth had barely touched her own. Bucky took a moment from stuffing his face to notice that she hadn't touched anything. "Do you want salt?" He asked, oblivious as to why she wasn't eating.

"Why did you do it?" She asked, preparing herself for his mask to drop again, visibly cringing away from him as if he were going to combust. Bucky would be lying if he said he didn't hate it. He didn't want her afraid, but if it took her fear to make her obedient then so be it. 

"I wanted you and you needed me." He said it so matter-so-factly she had to stop her jaw from dropping. "You and you barely survived working that shitty job or even living on your own. You needed someone to take care of you." Is that what he really thought? That she needed him to kidnap her and hold her prisoner in the middle of nowhere?

"You were always such a doll and not bad on the eyes." He continued, finishing up the last few bites of his meal. "You were a sweet girl. It all worked out for the best."

"Me being nice doesn't explain why you brought me here. Why you kidnapped me, Bucky." She said it with no anger or malice. She spoke softly as if she were talking to a child who didn't fully understand the gravity of the situation. Now that did irritate him. Bucky was no longer the hollow shell that he was before. He was a person--a man. "I can take care of myself. I was."

"Well," he gave a tight lipped smile. "You being nice," the word was said with such venom she recoiled, shrinking back further. "sure made it a whole lot easier to get close to you."  His words felt like a slap to the face. He pointed his chin toward her plate, signaling her to eat. 

Elizabeth remained still, her hands placed in her lap as Bucky continued to speak. Bucky could feel himself becoming agitated. "Plus you couldn't exactly take care of yourself when quarantine started. You were jobless. You had nowhere to go. No one to rely. Not a single friend." He stood up from his seat, rounding the counter to stand next to her.

His vibranium arm rest on the counter top, a stark reminder that Bucky was more than just a man. He was unlike any man she had ever encountered. Bucky seemed to tower over her as he spoke, she stared down at her plate, shoulders hunched as if she thought making herself smaller would save her from any of the blows he could deliver with possible fatal consequences.

"You didn't have anyone. No one who would even bother checking in on you if you were to go missing." She could feel a fresh batch of tears forming. He was right. As much as she wanted to call him a complete fucking psycho he was actually right. She would have been homeless. She would have starved or been exposed to the virus if he didn't let her stay cooped up in the tower with him all those months during the quarantine.

Bucky knew he had won when he saw a tear fall onto her hand. He didn't need to see her face to know he had broken through to her. There wasn't a need to continue on being a hard-ass. He could ease up. Good Cop, Bad Cop as Steve suggested. Show her that he could be kind and gentle and that he can also be stern and have a firm hand.

"Face it, Doll." He said, his right arm coming up behind her to rub her back soothingly. "You needed me and that's okay." Part of him wanted her to keep riling him up just enough for him to feel justified in putting her over his lap. He had been itching to punish her for nearly the past year of playing so hard to get those first few months. He gave her a kiss on the top of her head. "Eat before it gets too cold." He ordered before stepping away and retrieving his plate.

He had his back turned toward her as he rinsed off his dishes. She made no move to take a single bite; her stomach still reeling at his proximity, his intimidation only moments early. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, a cry threatening to work its way up and tear her to shreds.

"I still feel nauseous." She said as soon as he turned off the faucet. "I think it's the sedative."

"Then just the bread." He relented, wiping his hands dry on a rag. "You need to eat. I'm not letting you go on some bullshit hunger strike." She nodded before picking up the roll and breaking off a small piece before putting it in her mouth.

"I won't." She promised and, even if he didn't believe her, she meant it. She didn't need to go on a hunger strike. Bucky could easily make her eat, even if he had to shove it down her throat and she needed the strength if she was ever going to get out of here.

Chapter Eleven: Rules

[ahogedetective]

"Sorry again for dumping all this responsibility on you. I know it's a lot to take in, especially with how young you are." *the incredibly tall detective smiles as he settles into the chair, eyeing the much smaller detective in front of him*

"He's pretty reserved, shy even, so I know getting him to open up will probably take a bit of time. Then again, I've been told that you're pretty quiet yourself so I'm sure the two of you will hit it off just fine. Birds of a feather and all that." *he chuckles, easily able to imagine the two tinier detectives bonding while not saying a single word to each other*

"Hey, don't tell the others I said this, but I'm glad he'll be here. This seems like a far more peaceful place than Kanai Ward's ever been. This is somewhere you can walk around without feeling like you have to watch your back constantly. We've all been though quite... quite a bit together. Yeah, I'll just leave it at that. Maybe some other time I'll regale you with some of the crazy cases we've had to deal with." *there's a proud smile on his face as he sits up just a bit straighter, a mischievous glint in his eyes partially hidden by his large, circular glasses. however, his demeanor just as quickly shifts as his face drops and he gives him a rather pathetic and somewhat strained smile, yakou quickly covering his stomach after it loudly rumbles*

"S-sorry about that! I got lost trying to get here and by the time I finally arrived was no way I could've ran into a convenience store and made it back without being late. Damn it, I almost nailed that first impression too, haha... augh..."

"N-No, it's no trouble at all. I would be more than honored to do this, sir." Shuichi with a smile of his own, albeit a nervous one. It still felt hard for him to believe that he was going to be training someone, himself. Before then, Shuichi was always the trainee, specifically under his uncle's teaching. Yet, Yakou is entrusting to him. He did not want to let doubts cloud his mind, but he wondered to himself...would he able to do a good job as a mentor? But as Kaito reassured him; if he truly was incapable, then he never would have been chosen to train Yuma in the first place. Trying to remind himself of that mental note, he nods along as Yakou explains.

"Ah, yes, haha... I heard we are quite similar like that. And knowing that feeling very well, I could sense he has a quiet and shy demeanor, too. I..will help to become a comfortable presence around Yuma, so that he can feel okay, opening up to me." It was why he wants to shake his own nervousness off, as he would hate to present that kind of demeanor around Yuma when he sees him. As he doesn't want to be just a mentor to him, but a friend, too.

"I see...then, I'm relieved as well. I did hear that Kanai Ward was not..a safe place to live. Rest assured that Yuma can feel much safer, here. Ah, I understand! I can imagine you both have been through so much that isn't easy to really talk about. But when you are, I'll be curious to hear about it." Though when You suddenly gets embarrassed when his stomach rumbles, Shuichi can't help but laugh, before waving a hand in assurance that it's okay. Not exactly at him, but just found it funny since it was so unexpected. It still did help him relax a bit more, his smile looking less nervous as well.

"I-It's okay, it's okay! I still think you made a great first impression to me. I mean it; it's why I'm so honored to be able to talk to you like this, Chief Yakou. A great detective like you...putting so much trust into me like this. I...won't let you down. I promise to bring out the potential in Yuma that I know he has. Even if he's a trainee, I believe he deserves to feel proud of himself, as a Master Detective. So I will help him...gain the confidence so he can feel proud!" And he meant it; Shuichi, a boy who also struggled with confidence and feeling proud of himself... will want to help Yuma so the same, as others have done for him. Yakou, his uncle, Kaito and the others; they all believe in him. He refuses to let them down.

"That being said, could I offer you anything from the kitchen, sir? I'd feel bad if you sat there, hungry...it's the least I can do!"

[artdecosupernova-writing]

OC Kiss Week Day 1: Greeting

WIP: Darkspace Portent series Pairing: I’m…not sure how to answer this. Timeline: Between M31 and M33 CW: heavy kissing Rating: T idk lol Words: 1,456

***

Warren stared, flabbergasted, at Commander Sig Libra sitting on the other side of Thrive down the bar. They poised their bottle of sparkling water at their grinning lips, watching Thrive's reaction though they'd just addressed Warren not a moment ago.

"You want me to what?" Warren exclaimed, the register of his voice practically soaring above the casual commotion of the establishment.

Sig tipped the neck of their water toward Thrive. "Provided he gives consent."

Thrive turned his head to Warren, an indecipherable expression curtaining his true feelings on the matter. "I do. Though I feel the need to point out that Guetry harbors a particular attachment to Warren that may be cruelly exacerbated by this."

Warren scooted his glass of bourbon aside to jab a finger onto the bar top. "Uh, excuse me…Thrive gets a consent check over me? I'm the one you dared to kiss Guetry as soon as he got here."

Sig shrugged. "You can say no. I wouldn't worry too much about him, though. After the shock wears off he'll think it's funny."

Eyeing the door of the bar somewhat hesitantly, Warren frowned. "I get the feeling this won't go the way you think it will, Sigmet."

"His instincts have merit," Thrive said to Sig after swallowing the remainder of his rosé. "I think, ultimately, the decision is yours, Warren. If you truly feel that what is intended to be a harmless prank will result in disaster, no one is going to force you into it."

Warren watched a drop of water roll down the outside of Sig's bottle. Part of him wanted to go through with it just to see the look on Guetry's face when he acted like nothing happened after the fact, and that was the part of him that was convinced that Sig had a point. Warren may have been Guetry's best friend, but Sig was a partner, someone who saw every facet and flaw, and there was no reason not to trust them up to that point.

"What would Mercury say?" Warren finally asked.

"He'd be in hysterics," Sig said. "Trust me. I wouldn't suggest any of this if I thought it would hurt Guetry in any way."

"That's true, too." Warren rotated his tumbler between idle fingers and gave Thrive a final peek. "You sure you're okay with this?"

Thrive folded his hands. "I have reservations, but none of them involve the idea of you kissing someone else." He impressed on Warren another cryptic look, and as Sig busied themself with talking to the bartender, a wordless exchange passed that was as loud as anything they could've audibly said to each other.

Warren read it loud and clear. "Right." He downed his bourbon and pushed away from the bar, suddenly needing a restroom. "If he comes in when I'm gone, I'll do it when I get back."

He rolled over the prank in his mind well into washing his hands, during which the bathroom door opened and Guetry popped in, presenting himself with no makeup, just an oversized t-shirt and ripped jeans—unusually downplayed for an outing on the Node.

He gave Warren a playfully shifty glance. "…Cougar."

Warren sighed, opting for paper towels as he didn't trust the sonic drying technology quite yet. "Okay, Christ. I wasn't supposed to see you yet. Sig's got something planned. They insist you'll be okay with it, and I trust them, but I don't know, man. Something's fucky about the whole thing."

"How fucky?"

"They dared me to kiss you as you came up to the bar. Unprompted, full-on make-out. They said you'd find it funny."

Guetry narrowed his eyes. "That's pretty fucky."

"See! The fact that you're not on board with this does not sit well with me at all. Even Thrive was uncomfortable with the whole thing. I could've said no, but like I said, I didn't have a reason to think they'd make things uncomfortable for you on purpose."

"No, look," Guetry aimed a placating hand in Warren's direction. "Sig's great, you know that. They just…they don't get it. If it was anyone else, I would've thought it was funny, but because it's you...this was well-intentioned but poorly thought-out." He passed a hand over his chin. "But…I think there's a way to get them back. I'll just need you and your boy to be cool with it."

—

"He here yet?"

Sig shook their head, working through a serving of mixed appetizers. "Not yet."

Warren resumed his seat, picking a small onion ring from the plate and noting the empty barstool between them. "Where'd Thrive go?"

"He said something about needing to leave for an emergency meeting. But he had a weird look on his face when he checked his comm, like he was being told an inside joke. Love the guy, but he's an enigma."

"Ah, dang it," Warren grumbled. He chewed with a solemn scowl. "It was supposed to be his night off. Ah, well. I don't mind being the third wheel. Guetry should be here soon, yeah?"

Sig's eyes darted over Warren's shoulder. "Actually, he's here now…" They watched, confused, as Guetry slunk stealthily through the crowd and out the front door again. "Where's he going?"

"I dunno." Warren ran his slats card over the reader in the bar top and shoved it back into his pocket. "Should we go after him?"

"Might be a good idea. Last time he acted like that, he blew himself up with his electric whip a couple minutes later."

"Oh. Uh. Yeah, we should go after him."

Warren trailed behind Sig and moved past bystanders to the front, the mild din becoming a barely noticeable murmur when the doors slid shut behind them.

"Where'd he go?" Sig asked, craning their neck to see around each corner leading into a different corridor.

Scratching the back of his neck, Warren threw a noncommittal point in the direction of the door to the maintenance tunnel directly to their left. He cleared his throat. "I dunno…yo, uh, you see that door just close?"

They made it through the door and around the dark bend before Sig slowed to a stop and heaved a world-weary sigh.

Guetry had been pinned to the bulkhead with his chin firmly in Thrive's hand, engaged in a very lascivious, very intense kiss. It was almost enthralling to see—they went at it like they'd been doing so together their whole lives. Thrive pulled out all the stops, all the techniques he'd found Warren appreciated the most, pressing tight against him and nipping at his bottom lip. But when he gripped Guetry's hair and tipped his head back, moving his mouth down to his throat, Guetry caught sight of Sig.

"Oh hey there."

Sig rolled their eyes.

"Okay, Thrive," Warren laughed. "Thanks."

Thrive stepped back and smirked, brushing away a spot of wetness from the corner of Guetry's reddened lips with his thumb before winking at him and moving to stand beside Warren.

"Real cute," Sig said. "Alright, fine, I get the point."

"Do you, dumbass?" Guetry fanned his face and the breathless grin was only half genuine. "Warren's off-limits. Learn it, know it, remember it."

"Well…okay. If I knew that it really bothered His Majesty so much, I wouldn't have suggested—"

"It doesn't bother him, Commander, it bothers me."

A pause settled in the maintenance tunnel, and Warren watched the comprehension dawn on Sig's face as the levity further fell from Guetry's.

Sig nodded, sheepish. "Needless to say, I apologize," they said, holding their palms together. "I…don't think I fully understood."

"That said," Guetry interjected, "if the obhelian's down to clown at any point—"

"Absolutely fucking not," Warren said.

"Sounded like a 'maybe.'"

As Sig and Guetry moved closer to talk, Warren addressed Thrive, mildly exasperated. "I want to forget this ever happened. And onion rings."

Thrive held out a hand. "I believe I can provide at least one of those services."

"What was that like for you?" Warren asked, curling an arm around Thrive's waist as the other one looped Thrive's arm around his shoulders. They strolled out of the maintenance tunnel and into the artificial sunlight of the Node. "Was it weird?"

"No. Human displays of affection only serve one purpose as far as I'm concerned, and that's making you and you alone feel everything you want to feel from me. Otherwise, they're meaningless."

Warren bit his lip. "What'd you pick up from him?"

Thrive tipped his head as if he wasn't sure he should answer. "…He was definitely more invested in the plan than I."

"I'm sure you didn't need to make physical contact to find that out," Warren snickered.

"Sadly, I didn't."

Warren made a noise of combined disappointment and disgust and they re-entered the bar.

[galacticlamps]

‘we see now that kemel is no slave’ coolio now give him some lines, quick, before they junk the epis--

in all seriousness, what a loss. I know this is just the beginning of it, but ‘67 had quite the habit of introducing side characters of color that were frankly really consistently interesting but unfortunately just as consistently killed off, and typically marginalized onscreen before they died too. but even bearing that pattern in mind, it’s hard not to be especially upset about Kemel, who’s around for so much of the story, whose help allows our main characters not only to rescue the new companion in this serial, but also do to so in a collaborative effort that specifically highlights the best of humanity, and who’s already an important person with an existing relationship to said new companion, who’ll go on to become a series regular that never quite gets over her father’s death, which happened at virtually the same time as she was witnessing Kemel’s.

Like, it was all right there! We were even in Victorian England, and he was working for the evil rich guy - it’s not as if he couldn’t’ve been believably stoic and kind of quiet in that context without having to’ve been literally mute, with no lines at all! And then to have all his episodes lost on top of that! And if you listen to any interview with Sonny Caldinez, it’s immediately very clear just how much thought & consideration he put into his work, and wasn’t afraid to speak up on set about how scenes he was involved in were played - so even though he mostly did stunt/monster/extra work on Doctor Who, I’m sure his Kemel was played as much more than a blank-faced background character - which in no way rectifies the pointless lack of dialogue, but absolutely makes it that much more depressing that such a character was relegated solely to visuals, and that those visuals no longer exist.

[greensaplinggrace]

honestly THANK YOU for saying all that abt baghra bc i thought i was going crazy from not liking her??? bc i haven't read the books and only summaries of them on wiki and like. i dunno why ppl like her actually even in the show bc this guy, her son, is like "i wanna make the world better for us grisha" and she's just like "no." even tho he sees that she's MAKING HERSELF SICK from suppressing her powers! she's literally like in bed coughing in the flashback yet seem much healthier at the little palace. also like after everything, after her disapproval, after the fold, after centuries of waiting for the sun summoner.. he never abandons her. he makes sure she's cares for. he doesn't harm her. and i have to wonder if baghra has ever thanks him for that, for just not leaving her alone. like i dunno how im suppose ro believe aleks is a heartless villain when he still cares for his abusive mom like this. like has baghra even told her she loved him (honestly she reminds me of a classic emotionally unavailable asian parent but maybe that's just me). also im wondering if baghra ever told aleks that he had an aunt.. bc like.. now that u bring up her isolating him it's like hmmmm...

not at me being like alina... why do u trust the bitter old woman who literally beats u with a stick and verbally abuses u every chance she gets.. just bc she showed a bad painting... like.. pls use two braincells to see that who u figured out as his mother... is also using his protection..

like baghra could've upped and left with alina. but no. she stayed bc she knew she was safe under aleks's protection.

alsoim just impressed that after his first friend tried to drown him and harvest his bones... he didn't go into hiding???? he still wanted to make a safe heaven for grisha!!! HE STILL WANTED TO PROTECT GRISHA EVEN AFTER HIS GRISHA FRIEND TRIED TO KILL HIM FOR HIS FUCKEN BONES. like... this is the guy im suppose to believe is the villain???

honestly i feel like part of the reason why LB's plotlines seem so bad and disconnected (and sometimes outright racist but that's another rant) and why darkles is disproportionately more violent and villainous in the later books is bc she didn't expect the darkling to be so popular and wanted to stick with her guns of making him the villain. but also wanted the money from aleks's popularity. but like you can't have ur cake and eat it too.

Well thank you for sending this ask! It's very sweet and very passionate. I'm glad you liked my post! I didn't put as much thought into it as some of my others lol. I kind of just talked. But it was nice to be able to finally talk about some of the problems I have with both her character and the fandom/author's perception of her.

HERE is the post this is referring to, in case anyone's wondering.

👀👀 You've hit the nail on the head for so many things, here!

Baghra is extremely emotionally unavailable, basically to the point of neglect. She's also verbally and physically abusive, traits which I doubt were only reserved for her students and not her son. Baghra claims she would do anything to protect him, but I've known a lot of parents who have that mindset and yet still harm their children because they think it's "good for them".

Aleksander stays at Baghra's side for years, and even when they're opposing each other she's never too far away from him. Idk if you've read the books but he does eventually hurt her. And as much as I don't like Baghra, I think his actions were horrid. But I'm also honestly kind of surprised it took him so long lmao.

Yeah I mean, in terms of isolation, let's not forget that she never wanted to introduce him to his father, either. Baghra's sense of eternity clouds a lot of her judgments on relationships, which means she views most people as dust and therefore teaches her son to as well. The problem with that is that he's a growing child, and he needs those social and emotional attachments for healthy development.

I would bet quite a bit of money that Baghra has either never told him she loves him or she has told him so few times it's practically forgettable.

And everything becomes more complicated because so many of Baghra's actions are understandable because of her life and her history, but the impacts they have on the people around her, especially Aleksander, are permanently damaging. And the fact that that's never gone over in critical depth in the books or how it's glossed over in fandom is just very disconcerting. Like, acknowledging Baghra's failings doesn't mean we're excusing Aleksander's actions, it just means we're holding Baghra liable for her own. Which the fandom should be doing, considering she's the epitome of an abusive parental figure.

And Alina trusting Baghra over Aleksander is even more confusing! Especially in the show!! This is the woman who beat her and abused her and tortured her friends when they tiny little children (and who probably still does so now that they're adults). This is the woman who mocks you and harasses you and insults you on a regular basis. Why does Baghra revealing she's Aleksander's mother make Alina change her mind?! Like fuck, I'd just feel bad for Aleksander. No wonder he kept it a secret, I would too! And that painting is enough evidence?! Really?! A random painting shown to you by this abusive mentor that's been making your life hell. That's what you're going to betray your new lover over?

The friends trying to harvest his bones thing is a good point, too. I think Aleksander, especially show Aleksander, is incredibly idealistic. I think he cares too much for others - those he's deemed worth his care (a sentiment given to him by Baghra). Despite everything she's tried to teach him about hiding and abandoning others and never caring and never doing anything to help or reach out or connect with people, Aleksander still continues to do so. It's likely because he never got it from Baghra growing up, and so is desperate for those emotional needs to be fulfilled elsewhere.

His turning point, when Baghra tells him it was understandable that those kids tried to kill him because the world is such a hard place for them - that's crucial. And the reason it's possible as a motivating factor is because of that idealism and that desire to help and that desire to be everything his mother isn't. Baghra tells him this trauma he just experienced was because of the oppression of his people, and instead of following her lead and accepting that, going into hiding and abandoning everybody to their misery, he goes I can do something about that. I can make it so this never happens again. Which is usually how trauma like that combines with one's core personality traits at a young age, especially when there's none of the essential support systems in place to aid in recovery (ie, the role Baghra should have been filling but wasn't, because she decided to exacerbate the problem instead).

And yeah, one of my biggest problems with the ham-fisted "beating you over the head with a sledgehammer of evil deeds" look-how-bad-this-character-is! portrayal of the Darkling in the later books comes from the impression I get that Bardugo doesn't trust her readers. She's so desperate to have us hate this character and think him an irredeemable villain, not trusting any of her readers to engage critically with a morally gray character, that it feels quite a bit like condescending fucking bullshit. Which ew, I know how to engage with literature, thanks.

She really does seem to look down on a large part of her fandom, and imo, the infantilization of the female characters in her books seems to carry over to her impression of most of her female readers as well. Which is why the Darkling's character arc gets fucking destroyed. But he's still a good cash grab, of course, so she'll shake his dead corpse in front of the fandom for money every time she wants something from it.

Also! Another reason I think her plotlines feel disconnected (I'm sorry Bardugo I respect you as a person, but shit-) is because the writing in SaB is just bad. I mean, nevermind the absolutely nauseating implications of the way she portrays the Grisha as a persecuted group who's situation is never actually fully addressed as it should be, considering Grisha rights is what her main villain is fighting for (imo for a series called the Grishaverse, LB seems to be pretty anti Grisha), but her characters and story alone are just wrong for each other. They don't fit together.

And the ending is one of the main pieces of evidence in that regard! You can’t say the ending where Alina isn’t Grisha anymore is her “going back to where she started” when she’s always been Grisha. She just didn’t know she was Grisha because she denied that part of herself that she was born with.

Alina is reluctant to move forward or change, she struggles with adapting, and she’s very set on the things she’s grown attached to throughout her life. She also has some latent prejudices against the Grisha, and so denies the possibility of being Grisha for those reasons as well.

Alina’s lack of powers in the beginning of her life because she willfully doesn’t learn about them to avoid change versus her lack of powers at the end of the book when she’s accepted them and then they’re stripped away from her by outer forces are two entirely separate circumstances. You can’t make a parallel about lost powers and lack of Grisha status bringing her back to the start when she was always Grisha and she always had powers and she simply refused to come to terms with it because of personal reasons.

The first situation is an internal conflict that indicates a story about growth and a journey of self acceptance. Denying herself the opportunity to learn about her heritage and to find acceptance with a group of people like her because she’s tied to the past and because of the way she was raised is the setup for a narrative that tackles unlearning prejudice and learning how to connect with a part of her identity that was denied her and learning how to grow independent and self assured. It’s the setup for a different story entirely. The second situation is an external conflict that centers around the ‘corrupting influence of power’... for some reason.

In a world where Grisha do not have social, political, or economic power and they are hunted, centering your heroine’s journey of self acceptance and growth around an external conflict about... the corrupting influence of power (in a group of people that don’t actually have any power?!) just doesn’t work. It is literally impossible to connect the two stories Bardugo is trying to push in Shadow and Bone without seriously damaging the main character’s developmental arc.

The only way a narrative like this would work, claiming that she has gone back to where she started, is either a) if the Grisha weren’t actually a persecuted group and instead were apart of the upper class, or b) if the one bad connection between the two instances is acknowledged - that Alina denied a part of herself crucial to self acceptance and growing up, and that losing her powers at the end has also denied her. It is a tragedy, not a happy ending.

Alina suffered because she didn’t use her powers. She grew sick. It was bad for her. This was not a resistance to 'the corruption of power and the burden of greed', it was her suffering because she couldn’t fully accept herself.

Framing the ending as a return to the beginning can’t be done if you don’t address how bad the beginning was for your main character. You brought her back to a bad point in her life. You regressed her. This should be a low point in her arc. It should be a problem that’s solved so she can finish developing organically or it should be something that is acknowledged as a tragedy in it’s own right, for the future the world (the writing) denied her.

This is a ramble and it makes no sense and I’m really sorry, but my point is that Bardugo put the wrong characters in the wrong story. The character arc required for organic development doesn’t match the story and intended message at all. The narrative doesn’t fit the cast. She's got two clashing stories attempting to work in tandem and she ends up with both conflicting messages that fans still can’t comprehend in her writing and an ending that doesn’t suit her main character to such an impossible degree that it’s almost laughable.

So yeah, there's a few reasons why I think the story and the plot feels so bad and disconnected. I hope you don't mind me making this answer so long! 😅 I was not expecting to write this much.

[lunaticus-platina]

That goddamn smirk of his.

That smug, self-satisfied upturn of lips did him in.

It couldn't be helped now. Just for that small infuriating action, BK would show the whole wide word how deep his own idiocy reached its roots. There was no winner without the beaten, no game without a pawn, no play without the actor, and he was quite a jester if he'd say so himself. Being a King's clown is the highest honor, he used to say. To him the sentinel of North Kill was no mere Knight. He was every bit deserving of that crown.....only, it was not what the man wanted.

Power, he surely craved. But it only stemmed from the stolen control over his life, his very own fate. Struggle for freedom and individuality, whilst juggling his two major obligations: maintaining the sacred oath intact, which keeps the morality and community secure, and upholding his role to guard the kingdom of the old malignant monarchs. Decades of dedication was a testament to his loyalty.

Loyalty. Out of all the traits a person could possess, Loyalty, was what drew BK in the most. Being born with a heart three times too big to properly fit into the ribcage, he made a habit of wearing it on his sleeve at all times, on full display. All kinds of vermins gathered by the fresh, bright, beating source of life. Mind games became a norm, betrayals, routines. His charred, tethered and mangled heart has been sewed back together until he lost count. Yet he held on. All that trials did him was making his skin thicker, mind tougher, and his heart stronger than ever before. And so he waited. With that same burning heart dangling at his sleeve, he illuminated the dark path ahead with it, the little boy inside him still looking for that treasure that'll make his endeavors all worth it.

And what a treasure he found. Living in an era where sincerity is as rare as a meteorite shard in a desert, to find a man who is genuine in every abrupt way without a single word said out loud. The sheriff sure could keep his mouth shut, but his mask was crudely drawn over the painful awkwardness and fear of possible denigration or rejection. The old cop's uptight demeanor amused BK greatly. Not too often did he come across such an intractable creature. If he wanted, he could have his way, like usual. But something told him it was not the right approach.

No, he had to lose. He had to lose a lot.

He was to be the giving tree. Every red ripe apples belonging to his special one, the cool, shady spot under his leaves reserved for only one grumpy man to sit and rest. Branches he'd gladly break down to be used as timber woods, warming that man's soul on frigid days, even the sturdy trunk, he'd let be chopped away, so the man could build a cozy home for himself, a refuge for his weary self.

To love was to give. How could he call it a sacrifice, when there was no loss? Travis gave him plenty. His company. His effort. His trust. Which all translated to care. The more he poured into the other, the fuller his heart felt. This was love, he was sure. Too hard he tried to turn away from the implication, blaming Chronos and Moirai for such unpromising predicament they put him into. But he had to cherish what little he had. For what little time he was given.

Travis Hackett was more than what he could've asked for. So he decided, it must be the universe's last ditch attempt at apology. A final gift.

The hanging man closed his eyes, smiling a crooked smile.