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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

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Inner Conflict

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3586

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Some Angst, Some Fluff, Sam and Bucky being idiots, Mentions of PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression

A/N: Here’s Part Three to my FATWS Series, which I’m making a masterlist for that you can find Here.

Uh…it’s a little long, and I apologize for that. It doesn’t even encompass the whole second episode, only the first half, so a Part 3.5 will be coming out later today probably (it’s my day off work so I have all day to relax and write!) I tried not doing a line for line rewrite of the episode, but there are quotes from the show in here. Mostly it’s Reader’s thoughts and feelings towards what’s happening while conversations are going on around. Reader’s backstory is a bit more unfurled. It’s more action packed and more scene-for-scene of the episode than the previous two. Less emotions shared and less hurt/comfort type of thing, but that’ll be back in the next part probably along with more scenes not in the show. The next part I’m planning won’t be as long, it’ll mainly just be the Couples Therapy scene and a bit more angst with her and Sam and her and Bucky.

Because there’s four more episodes and I don’t know what’s going to happen in them, I’m kinda hesitant on spilling out exactly what is going on with the Reader and what her role was on the original team, but we’ll get there. Also, I wasn’t expecting to be writing multiple pieces for one episode, but if the other episodes are as packed as this one, prepare yourself for more parts than anticipated. We’re already on Part 3 and I’ve got Part 3.5 coming. Just bare with me as I don’t know what’s going to happen in future episodes! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

(Not beta’d so excuse any mistakes.)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

Walking out of the shower, ruffling a towel through your hair to dry it off, you froze at the sound of the TV. A sigh left your lips. It’s all he’d been doing the last few days - watching the news. Keeping up with the tour for the new Captain America.

You peeked out of the small bedroom to find Bucky sitting on the floor, brow creased as he watched John Walker talk to the Good Morning America hostess.

“You shouldn’t be watching that.” You spoke up, leaning on the doorway, still patting your hair dry. He glanced over to you, taking in the towel wrapped around you, before looking back at the TV. Seeing you like that wasn’t anything new. “Buck, I’m serious. Brooding over it won’t make anything better.”

“What do you want me to do?”

You let out a sigh, shifting your feet and biting your lip as you thought about how to respond. “I-I haven’t figured it out yet. But obsessing over the new guy-”

“Aren’t you mad?”

You frowned at his question, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I told you already that I am.”

He tilted his head, which he did when he was confused, his eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you show it? Why aren’t you screaming or cursing or crying or something? You, of all people-”

“Because it won’t help anything, Buck.” You shook your head, pushing off the wall. “I want to. But if I let myself go down that road…” Dropping your gaze to the floor, you take a breath, collecting your thoughts. “This is such a complicated situation, James. I’m being contacted left and right for a statement on the new Captain. People trying to see my reaction. Senators trying to get me to meet with him. I can’t let myself snap. I can’t.”

He scowled. “They’re still bothering you?”

A dry chuckle escaped your lips and you nodded. “Makes me miss the days when no one knew who I was; when I was the behind-the-scenes seventh Avenger. But I made that choice to come out, and I have to deal with the consequences now. Blowing up will only-”

“Even though I never met him…he feels like a brother.”

That one statement stopped you in your tracks. Bucky’s head whipped back to the TV, his jaw ticking, his nose scrunching up.

“Did he really just say that?”

Bucky merely nodded, his chest heaving as he tried getting his breathing under control. “Feel like snapping now?”

You purse your lips as you held in the tears stinging your eyes. After composing yourself, you moved over and grabbed the remote, letting out a tiny sniffle as you did so. You tentatively touched Bucky’s shoulder, silently asking him if he needed anything from you. His response was to open his arms, so you quickly got down besides him to hold him.

“He is my brother, doll.”

“I know, Buck.” You pressed a soft kiss to his head, which rested against your bare shoulder.

Your bare knees are pressed harshly against the wooden panels of the floor, and you’re twisted awkwardly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. As long as he was comfortable, you would take the uncomfortable position. As long as he was being held, you would take the soreness it would leave. As long as you could help him be some sort of okay, you would take not being okay in this position.

You two sat like that for a few more moments before your phone buzzed. You gave a sigh, pulling back and holding his cheeks in either hand. He wasn’t crying, although he was on the verge of doing so. You’d seen him cry before, so you knew he didn’t mind. For you it was a different story.

Bucky had maybe seen you cry twice since the whole Blip thing went down. And one of them was over the phone, so he didn’t see it so much as he heard it. You didn’t let yourself cry in front of him. Or anyone, for that matter. It was a part of you. The only person you ever felt comfortable enough around to cry in front of…wasn’t there. And you couldn’t change that.

“We’ll figure it out.” You told him, nodding gently and letting a small, sad smile quirk the corners of your lips up. “Okay? We’ll figure it out.”

The clench in his jaw loosened as your fingers worked circles into the hinge, making him relax and nod back. You pressed a tender kiss to his forehead before standing up, moving across the room to where your phone was on the counter. You assumed it’d be another government official or news reporter, so you were slightly shocked to see ‘Sammy’ flashing up at you.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you read his message, a slight pout forming on your face.

“Doll?” Toned arms wrapped around you, warm and cool, his chin setting on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sam. He needs my help with something.”

“I’m coming with you.”

You turned in his arms, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why?”

He shrugged, licking his lips. “You might need help.”

“Bucky, you can’t go if you’re just going to yell at him.”

“I won’t.”

You studied his features. He was lying, you knew that. Of course he was going to snap at Sam for giving up the shield. He was mad and they got on each others’ nerves every chance they could find, so of course he was going to.

But you still found yourself saying yes and telling him to go pack a bag. You were never able to say no to Steve and it seemed that got passed on. What a nuisance it was.

****************

And you were so right. It was the first thing he said once Sam came into view coming down the stairs.

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“James.” You squeezed the hand he was holding, voice pleading for him not to do this right now. He huffed, stepping back to let you greet Sam properly, giving the man a hug. “Hi, Sammy.”

“It’s been a while.” Sam commented, pulling back and holding you by the shoulders. “You look good. Not that you’ve ever looked otherwise.”

You gave him a small smile. “You do too.”

“Thanks for coming. I know it’s short notice, but-”

“It’s fine, Sam. Really.” You insist.

Sam nodded, before eyeing Bucky. “Did you have to bring him?”

“Samuel-”

“This is wrong.” Bucky cut in, staring Sam down, falling into step besides him as the man started heading outside.

“James-”

“Hey, hey. Look. I’m working, all right?”

You rolled your eyes as the two started arguing, stopping your stride to take a breather. You used to joke about babysitting them, but it didn’t feel like a joke anymore and you were getting tired of it. All the bickering for no reason. The contempt they held for one another. Steve made you promise that you would look out for them, and you were trying, but they weren’t making it easy.

When you joined them again, you raised an eyebrow at the direction the conversation turned. How the hell did they get from arguing about the shield to what a wizard is?

“Ahh! Haha! A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat!”

You gave Sam a look as he babbled about how he was right. “Sorcerer Mickey has a hat. Isn’t that, like, how he gets his powers and everything?”

Bucky grinned at you. “Thank you!”

“Excuse you!” Sam scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at you. “We were having a conversation!”

“Yeah. A stupid conversation I just ended. Now I’m gonna be in the plane. Feel free to join me when you’re done being idiots.”

They both spluttered, but you were already walking away, leaving no room for arguments. As you loaded onto the plane, you spotted the Lieutenant whom Sam mentioned who had been helping him out with missions. Torres, you thought, remembering his name from a previous phone call with your friend.

“You Lieutenant Torres?” You asked, walking up to him.

He blinked, before his eyes widened, a grin appearing on his face. He seemed young, which you were perfectly okay with considering you’ve been working alongside old men for the past decade. It was always nice to work with a fresh face, which you found after you started working with Wanda and Peter.

The thought of the two youngest members made you falter, not having heard from either of them since Christmas almost six months prior, but you quickly recovered yourself, shaking away the worries you had for them.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N! I’m a huge fan! I’ve read all your files!”

Chuckling a little, you held out your hand. “Most of those are heavily classified.”

He ducked his head with a little blush, rubbing the back of his neck after shaking your hand. “I, uh, I might’ve…used connections.”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him, throwing him a wink. “I won’t tell. Can you tell me what’s going on? Sam didn’t exactly explain the situation.”

He nodded, getting into ‘work mode’, something you’ve seen in most military men, informing you of their recent missions and the group known as the Flag-Smashers and giving you a file on them. He was in the middle of telling you about his solo mission in Germany when your two fellas came in, sending each other small glares, but remaining quiet.

Bucky caught your eye and sent an apologetic look your way, to which you just smiled at before turning back to Torres.

“Well I’m glad you’re okay.” You told him once he was done.

“Oh yeah. It wasn’t that bad.”

You laughed and nodded. “I’m sure. You seem like a tough kid.”

He smiled, before looking around and jabbing his thumb behind his shoulder. “I-I’ve gotta go, but-”

“We can talk later.” You promised with a grin.

“Really?!”

“Of course! I have a feeling we’ll be working together more, and I like getting to know who’s gonna have my back.”

He beamed and nodded, walking backwards. “That’d be awesome! Talk to you later then!”

You giggled as he turned around and jogged off, pumping his fist in the air. You turned to a grinning Sam and nodded towards where Torres left. “I like him. Seems like a nice kid.”

“He is. Very energetic. A little reckless, but he’s got a good heart.”

You hummed, the smile falling from your face as you flipped through the file Torres gave you. “So…Munich?”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry again for taking you away from the search, but-”

“Search is off.” You informed him quickly, not looking up. “Until further notice.”

The plane went quiet, before Sam cleared his throat. “So…no sign of Wanda yet, then?”

You shut the file, looking up at the men whose features were laced with concern. “I’m gonna go talk to the pilot. Behave while I’m gone. No pushing each other off the plane.”

“Doll?”

You were stopped by the hand that grabbed your wrist as you passed Bucky. You shot him another smile, knowing it wasn’t convincing enough for him, but it being the best one you had. “I’m okay. I’ve just gotta ask him some questions.”

************

Opening your mouth to stop him, you groaned when Bucky jumped out of the plane before you could speak. First Sam jumps without sharing the plan, then Bucky jumps without having a plan. Or a parachute. Or wings. Or anything.

Torres looked at you, but all you could do was shrug. “I dunno what to tell you, kid.”

“You’re not gonna do that, are you?”

“No.” You reassured him, shaking your head. “I’m gonna wait ‘til we land like a normal person and take my bike. I just have to pray that they’ll wait to do anything stupid until I get there.”

They didn’t wait. You’re pretty sure they didn’t even think about waiting. By the time you got to them, they were fighting - and losing, might you add - to six really strong people on top of two semi trucks.

Because why wouldn’t they?

Oh, oh. And on top of that, the fake was there, throwing the shield. The shield that didn’t belong to him. The shield that meant so much more than he would ever know.

“Hi, doll! Sorry we started the party without you!” Bucky shouted from where he was hanging off the edge, that close to the street and getting his head torn off by the tire.

“I’m so tired of babysitting you two, you know that?!”

“Oh! Sorry we’re such an inconvenience for you! Blame him! He jumped the gun!” Sam shouted, coming to fly next to you as you rolled up your sleeves, standing on your bike, using one hand to steer.

“Can I get a little help already?!”

“Sam-!”

“On it!”

Knowing that no matter how much they pissed each other off, Sam would make sure Bucky was okay and vice versa, you focused on getting to the top, where Walker and a buddy of his were struggling a little bit.

You climbed up to the roof of the semi no one was on, wincing when you heard your bike skidding across the pavement. There goes half your salary.

You couldn’t dwell on it for very long, considering one of the guys appeared in front of you. You recognized the fighting - the strength - and faltered, a memory resurfacing at a very bad time.

“C’mon, honey. You can do better than that.” Steve grinned at you, holding out a hand to help you up.

“Excuse me for not having super strength, Rogers.” You huffed out, taking it and letting him pull you up.

“You don’t need to be stronger than me. You just need to be smarter.”

“That’ll be easy.” You teased, stretching your arms before getting into your stance again. “You’re a dumbass sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, who chose to be friends with this dumbass?”

“Everyone needs a dumbass for a friend.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “So I’m your dumbass?”

“If you want.”

The grin he shot you made your heart skip a beat. “If you’ll have me.”

You blinked, but Steve wasn’t in front of you anymore and you weren’t in the gym in DC.

The guy caught the punch you distractedly threw and twisted your arm, making you cry out, kicking him in the back of the knee and flipping him over your shoulder.

You went to kick him again, but he caught your leg and threw you against the side of the other semi. You were able to grab onto where Bucky had ripped through the side, but you winced as the metal cut through your palm. Sam had just flown under the trucks, taking Buck with him, and you knew when a fight wasn’t worth it, so you quickly moved around the truck, letting Walker and his pal distract the Flag-Smashers, before letting yourself fall onto the side where the grass was.

You wanted to lay there, to catch your breath and curse yourself for getting distracted. You hadn’t had a flashback like that in a while. But you didn’t let yourself. You had to make sure the guys were okay.

Standing up made you cringe; you could feel the throbbing in your shoulder from where it was no doubt dislocated and your leg was aching, the muscle probably pulled when the guy threw you.

“Doll!” You turned, seeing Bucky and Sam sprinting towards you a few yards down the road. “Hey, hey.” Bucky immediately had his hands hovering over you, scanning your body. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, shoving his hands away. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“I think I dislocated it.”

Sam frowned. “What the hell happened?”

You gave him a weird look, starting to limp across the field to where you noticed a side road earlier. “They were super soldiers, Sam. And we got our asses kicked.”

“Yeah, but you know how to fight a super soldier-”

“It’s been a while.”

“Bullshit.” Sam side stepped in front of you, making you stop. “What happened?”

“I-I just got distracted, okay?”

“Y/N. Look at me.” Bucky took your face between his palms, eyes worried. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. A tired sigh left your lips and you looked anywhere but his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just hurting. My leg, I think I pulled it or something-”

“C’mere.” Bucky turned and crouched down, making you blink.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be walking. We don’t wanna make it worse.”

“But it’s just a strain, it won’t-”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get on the man’s back, Y/N.”

You bit your lip before sighing and carefully climbing on his back. He shifted you gently, making sure to hold your leg with caution, leaning his head into yours when you hooked your chin on his shoulder. “You-you don’t have to talk about what happened. Just-just know that when you do…I’ll be here, okay?”

You nodded, moving to press your nose against the column of his throat. “Okay.”

But you could never tell them. How could you? How could you tell the world’s longest POW that you were having nightmares? How could you complain to an Air Force vet who served two tours in Afghanistan and watched his best friend get blown out of the air that you were having flashbacks?

You weren’t sure if it was PTSD or anxiety or depression. Maybe all three. It didn’t matter, though, because you didn’t want to admit it. You wouldn’t admit it. No one thought the Blip messed you up that badly. No one thought Steve leaving did that much damage. And you were okay with that. You were okay with them thinking you were healing - that you were fine - because they needed to see that it could be done. That they could be fine, too. Especially the men walking, Sam teasing Bucky per usual.

It wasn’t until a horn honked that you allowed yourself to be pulled out of your thoughts. A scoff left you when you realized who it was, switching the side you were laying on so your cheek pressed up against the cool metal of his left shoulder, facing away from the jeep.

You tried ignoring the guy as he talked about working together and shit, taking a shuddering breath, making Bucky squeeze your uninjured thigh. There was no way you were working with him. You couldn’t. It’d be like betraying Steve and you didn’t need that on top of all the other things you were dealing with.

You couldn’t deny the need for a ride though. The airport was 20 miles away and you were hurting pretty bad. You suspected that was the reason the guys relented, Bucky tenderly setting you down in the jeep between him and Sam, careful of your injuries.

You stared at your lap as Walker and Sam talked shop. You understood where they were coming from, you were always able to see both sides of the coin, but it didn’t mean you were going to willingly work with him.

“I got mad respect for all of y’all, but you were kind of getting your asses kicked till we showed up.”

You scoffed at that, finally raising your eyes to meet Walker’s friend’s. “Like you were doing any better?”

Bucky reached over to grab her hand that was resting on her lap. “You know, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you.” Walker faced you, eyes raking down your form. Bucky shifted in his spot, but you ran your thumb over his knuckles before he could do or say anything stupid.

“Yeah. I know. My phone hasn’t stopped blowing up for a week. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Walker frowned. “If you just answered-”

“I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what you’ve done. I’ve been a little busy doing my job to blow smoke up your ass on national television. Sorry if my saving people’s lives has been an inconvenience for you, but some wannabe playing dress up isn’t my top priority.”

Walker’s brows furrowed and he was about to say something, when Bucky cut in, asking his friend who he was. You were already that close to jumping out of the jeep, when the guy, Hoskins, told you three that he went by ‘Battlestar’.

If the situation wasn’t so aggravating, you would’ve laughed when Bucky immediately told the driver to stop, opening the door before the car even stopped. “C’mere, doll.” He murmured, lifting you up into his arms bridal style, before walking off, tuning out Walker as he shouted after you two.

You pouted a little when you saw Sam still talking to the guy. “What’re they talking about, Buck?”

“Some nonsense about him not replacing Steve. Just trying to be the best Captain America he can.”

You laid your head against Bucky’s chest. “The best Captain America is Steve. He can never be Steve.”

“I know, doll.”

“Steve told me once that all he was trying to do was be a good man…it’ll always amaze me that he didn’t see he was the best.”

You missed the distraught look Bucky shot towards you, the look in his eyes almost heartbroken while you talked fondly about his best friend. The tortured scrunch to his features seemed to melt away at your next words, though, and he held you tighter as you curled into his hold.

“Just like it amazes me that you don’t know how important you are to me too, Buckaroo.”

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leahseclipse · 4 years ago

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May the show begin (Part 2)

May the show begin masterlist | Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst

Warnings: Kidnapping, general criminal minds stuff, angst, cursing, blood, mentions of death.

Summary: While working on a case, y/n gets targeted by the unsub that kidnaps her.

A/N: Hello! Here's the 2nd part! Thank you to everyone who liked the first part, it means a lot to me!! I hope you'll like this one- I really do my best at every fic, I hope it's not too bad- lmk if you liked it- have a good time reading. - Lex

Don't hesitate to send requests, I'll be more than happy to write them!

Word count: 5.5 k

_______

"Y/N."

I woke up with a start after hearing a voice calling my name.

I looked around, but no one was there. I almost thought it was Spencer calling me for a second.

I immediately felt panic invade my whole mind as I realized the situation I was in.

The room was dark, which didn't reassure me at all, because I hated being in the dark, and in this situation, I wasn't even somewhere safe.

I'm scared.

I want to get out of here.

What is going to happen ?

I knew that the following hours, or even days would be the worst days I'd ever have, and I didn't even know if I would get out of here alive.

I couldn't be sure of that.

It didn't really take long until I realised that I've also been drugged. I was struggling to stay awake, and my sight was blurry for a while.

I even tried to move for a bit, but quickly noticed the ropes restraining me.

As I tried to dig into my memories, trying to even remember anything from yesterday, the only thoughts that came were the faint sounds of a car, and then...screams.

My screams.

The next thing I did after almost regaining full consciousness was to look at my own body; I had felt a soft fabric against my skin, but still couldn't guess whether it was my clothes or not.

Then, as I lowered my head,

I realized.

Someone had put a dress on me.

I knew that I had this on for a specific reason, but I still couldn't remember why.

I did my best not to crack under the pressure, because the more I'd look around, the more I'd feel like crying out of panic. My head was full of panicked thoughts, I prayed for it to stop, but I knew well that I couldn't. Not until I'd get out of here.

If...hold on.

I remembered something.

The dress.

It's what was on the women that are now...dead.

Right now, what I only wished for was for someone to find me as quickly as possible. I couldn't remain calm, knowing that I could eventually die here.

This wasn't planned at all, I never thought this would happen one day, I did everything to protect myself, be careful outside, and some guy, or girl, managed to get into my apartment to kidnap me.

And right now, being the nervous and dramatic wreck I am, I could only think of the worst things that could happen. And...that are about eighty percent accurate to happen, I'd say.

This really can't...I'm not done saying all of the words I need to say to Spencer, I need more time with him, my life can't end now, it can't end here.

We're even supposed to get married. We're too busy with work that we haven't planned anything yet.

I can't leave him behind like that.

I can't.

My thoughts were interrupted by a sound, causing me to come back to reality.

I suddenly heard the door opening, followed by footsteps; these becoming louder as the person approached.

"Hello there." He said, as I froze out of fear, his voice sending chills down my spine.

"I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. I wished I could have processed this meeting in another way. But apparently, you were quite busy with your job. It was quite difficult to catch up with your schedule. So, I had to pay you an unexpected visit. It's nice to see you again y/n." He added, as he walked in front of me. I looked at him while he talked, but his face was masked, I couldn't see anything.

It's nice to see you again'? Do I...know him?

I still couldn't put a name on the voice, but I knew I did hear it somewhere. But the problem is that I didn't know. It could be an old friend, a colleague, a neighbor, but unless he'd say his name, I wouldn't know.

"You can talk, you know, I didn't say you weren't allowed." He let out a laugh, his hand touching my face, while he traced my jawline with the tip of his fingers.

"I...why am I wearing a dress," I finally let out, with a shaky voice. "And how do you know me…?" What I just asked was probably stupid when I thought about it after, but I was too terrified to think of anything else. These were the only words I managed to let out. I guess it's better than the curses. Maybe.

"Oh, the dress. I made it just for you. It's just a bit loose, sorry. I couldn't get your measurements from far, when I was watching, so...I did my best. I hope that you like it. I didn't want you to keep what you were wearing, it wasn't very pretty." He paused, probably thinking about the other question.

"And, how do I know you…? Well, it's not my job to tell you, you're a big girl, so I think you can remember it by yourself. It'll come, soon enough. It's not difficult, you used to see it all the time, a long time ago, and kinda...recently." He said, as he put his hand on my hair, taking a strand between his fingers.

This really has to be a joke. What am I supposed to do, guess your name until I get the right one?

"You really are...amazingly pretty. If I kill you, I can't keep you forever. That'd be a shame, really. I can keep you for a while, if you behave nicely. So, be an angel and don't make me angry, okay?"

"Be a angel"...how am I even supposed to react to that?

"...keep me forever, why?"

"You see," He said, as he kneeled in front of me. "I couldn't keep watching you, you exactly look like my daughter would have looked like if she lived another ten years. But, some bastard killed her, and now, all I have left...is you. I can feel her presence through you, I know she's here. That's why I want to keep you for a while. You'll love me, soon enough. It'll be like the old days. I just, really am obsessed with you. It'll probably hurt your poor boyfriend, but I'm sure he won't mind if I take you from him. He won't."

He totally lost his mind. I don't think he's thinking sanely right now. If I take his words, his mind totally blew up when he saw me…like to the point he'd do things, without getting scared of consequences, he hadn't realised at all the risks he took, and I don't think he does right now.

I could feel the rage burning sensation in my body growing larger every second I'd look at him. He should consider himself lucky that the rope is too tight for me to move. Otherwise, he'd have no face anymore.

I couldn't help but wonder why he would do that. Both my father and sister died when I was only 10, but I didn't go and stole someone else's father and daughter to replace mine. It took a long time, because I had to accept the death of someone twice, suffer even more, alone, in my room for months, but I coped with it and moved on a few months after, taking control over my life once again after the event I've been through.

I know they would have wanted me to do that. They both hated it whenever I was sad.

"Why do...you just take girls from their families, to just end up killing them a few days after? Is making people suffer okay?"

"Look, if I do that, this way sweetie...the police will finally understand my anger. It's been two years, and they still haven't found the guy who killed her. I even wonder if they haven't forgotten about it, or given up. And after, they proudly appear in newspapers while a killer is still on the loose. Wow, look how great police is."

Is this how people are supposed to cope with the death of someone? Making other people suffer isn't the right way when you have to deal with a loss.

"Killing people won't resolve things, it's sad for you, but sadly, it won't bring her back. I won't."

"We'll see that; if your smart-ish friends manage to find you. Unless they don't, you'll get to travel with me. Exciting isn't it? I know, right? You'll like it. I can feel it. You'll become my pretty little doll. Till you break. I hope it'll last long. We've only been together for half a day. We have plenty of time to get to know each other once again. It's been a long time since our last meeting so I'm sure we both have a lot of things to say. A lot.

"You're fucking crazy."

"If you say so. But soon, you'll like- no, you'll adore me."

"Never." I exclaimed, glancing at him, my eyes filled with all the rage I felt for him in this moment. He'd be stupid if he didn't see that.

"You won't say that in a few days. I think you'll even beg-" He said, cutting off mid sentence, before I spat at his face.

I knew the consequences of it, but I didn't regret it. Now, he'd know that I'm not his toy, and that I'll certainly not beg him for anything.

He stepped back, chuckling, before hitting me in the face with his fist. Soon enough, a few drops of blood flowed from my nose, falling on the dress, as the tissue slightly absorbed it.

I didn't know if it was the punch or the effects of the drugs that I had just felt, but I suddenly felt tired as he hit me, bringing me back to the state I was in when I woke up.

"You bitch...who do you think you are to do that? TELL ME." He yelled, his voice filled with anger. Even though I couldn't see his face, I knew it probably was red from all of the anger he's been accumulating.

The veins on his hands contracted, surely meaning he was restraining himself from hitting me again, or even...strangling me.

"I'm...not a toy...for you to play with. It's sad that she died...but I already said I won't replace her."

"I NEVER ALLOWED YOU TO TALK, SHUT UP!" He paused, taking a large breath of air, as he pointed at me with his index. "You'll do...whatever I'll tell you. If you care enough about the ones around you. That'd be a shame for them to die because of their...stubborn friend." He added, glancing at me as he left the room, aggressively closing the door.

I couldn't stop shaking the whole time he was in. I'd never imagined that this would ever happen to be one day. It happened to Spencer, and I was devastated the whole time. Watching him on the livestream, I couldn't stand it for more than a few minutes.

And now that I'm in the same situation, he's the one that is suffering. None of us know if I'll get out of here alive. That's the worst.

Until they'd find anything about him, both of us had to stay there, wondering if the other was doing okay, and in Spencer's case, wondering if I would make it.

I really prayed for that. I need to see his smile again, run my hand through his hair, cuddle in bed with him, all of the things I love to do with him, that I love him for.

No sound was coming from outside, either the walls of the room were isolated in order to not let any sound in, or the house was in the middle of nowhere.

The only thing I could do while being tied up was to look around; of the two windows, the only one that would allow the light to go in was closed by the blinds, only allowing a short film of light into the dark place. The left one was being blocked by the shelf in front of it, so not any light came out of it.

Even if I would try to escape, how could I even do that? I was tied up to the chair by the rope, almost suffocating me; my hands were both restrained to the back of the chair, each hand on one side of it, so whenever I'd try to move them up, the head of the chair would block my hands.

I then looked more around, a lot of costumes were displayed in the room. Some were complete, some half done or in bad shape; he also had sewing kits, measurement tapes, a lot of stuff to sew, in general.

There were some boxes in the corner, some papers, and...a pair of legs coming out of behind the boxes. Someone was lying there.

A stream of blood was dripping from her tight, while the puddle of blood underneath her limp body slowly became wider.

Her skin was pale as snow, and I quickly came to the realisation that she was either dying or...already dead.

Tears soon began flowing down my cheeks, a quiet sob escaping my lips. I couldn't do anything to help her, the only thing I could do was to watch her die, if she was still alive.

And now...he's really going to do the same to me…? No. It can't happen...it can't.

The thought of myself soon being in the same situation as them even went through my mind for a second, terrifying me. I wasn't sure of it, but it still could be one of the scenarios that could happen.

Who could even know if he didn't kill other girls? From what we all know, two have been found, and plus the one I just saw, three, or more, I couldn't confirm that; they'd had to search the house, or he'd have to say it to me in one of his possible attempts to threaten me, otherwise, I didn't know if there was more, I seriously hoped that he hasn't killed other girls.

But, from what I've seen from the way he was acting, he felt...pressured, in a way. I think that when I...got angry, which resulted in him realising that I wasn't going to be the perfect doll he expected me to be, something might have changed in his plans, he imagined that he'd keep me much longer, thinking that I'd be obedient, calm.

He had his reasons to think like that, I think. It's not really in my habits to flip people off, I'm usually nice in general. Even with weird guys that try to flirt with me for example. I always try to be as nice as possible when trying to tell them I'm not interested. Some aren't really mean in general, they just need a talk to understand.

I had this one teacher in college, back then, I was taking theater classes, thought it might be fun to do that for my last year. It didn't cost anything, and I had nothing to lose if I tried it. It really was fun, I got to make some new friends, discover new plays, and the teacher was really nice with us. He was like a second dad. You could talk of anything to him, he wasn't the type of guy to judge you, he was quite understanding in general. He wouldn't force you to talk unless you wanted to, and wasn't the type to slide in personal conversations. He was pretty friendly, you couldn't really talk bad to him, he was always nice.

What was his name…? I think his family name was something like...Miller?

Even if it really was that, hundreds of people wear that name, so I'm not even close to finding it; and I was not really in the mood to play guessing games.

I'm currently being kidnapped, so...it's logical.

The door abruptly opened once again, as he turned the light on, a sudden burst of light brightening the room, causing myself to startle out of my thoughts.

My eyes involuntarily closed, whilst my vision got blurry for a bit, focusing back when it adjusted itself to the light.

His shadow appeared on the floor as he headed towards me; I could even see my own shadow, not having noticed that I was shaking so much until I actually saw it right in front of me.

"Let's have another chat, shall we?" He took a chair, sitting in front of me while taking the mask off his face. "Remember me now?"

________

SPENCER'S POV

10 hours since the disappearance of y/n

I pushed the glass doors of the 6th floor's office, walking through the hallway, as I made my way to the conference room.

A few minutes ago, I had reached the point where I just couldn't think anymore, I just had to get some air before getting aggressive with the others out of frustration.

Even if I knew that it would be all of the anger I've accumulated talking, and not the usual Spencer they know, I preferred not to go outside with anyone.

I was too distracted over the fact if we would ever find her alive again. If it's the guy that killed the two women, it'll only be a matter of time before he kills her.

When I stepped into the room, I sat by the seat next to Morgan, putting my elbows on the table while my hands rested under my chin.

Papers were scattered all over the table, as everyone's voices raised, arguing on the proofs they had, trying to understand who could be behind that. We only knew what the guy was doing, but had no clue of who it was.

We barely had anything. The only thing we had in stock was that the guy was between 40-50, and that he probably was a theater teacher, but again, it wasn't sure.

The thing was that we didn't even know if this guy was from here or not. He could be a guy that used to live here, and moved somewhere else.

Some argued on the fact that he always lived here, some on the fact that he just drove here so many times that he ended up knowing the city, or some that someone else who actually knew the area drove with him.

We weren't really close to finding any constructive proofs.

As for me, I wasn't close to finding any mental stability yet. My whole mind was a storm, a storm that I don't think anyone in the room would be able to stop.

What if she was already dead?

Although I wished more than anything that she would be okay right now, I couldn't get this thought out of my mind since we knew she was missing.

Her face appeared in my mind, her wonderful smile with it. She would radiate so much joy, that it would always be enough to cheer the team up for a bit whenever we'd work on a complicated case.

She would always care about others before herself.

Even if we would never ask for it, she would suddenly burst out of the office, and come back a few minutes later with coffee, or even take a few files behind our backs so that we could go home early. She'd take a lot from Matt, JJ and Hotch; but while they'd go home early, she would go home late.

We would even find her the next morning in the conference room, along with the finished files next to her. We weren't that evil, so we would let her sleep a bit more.

She'd eventually wake up with a start, claiming that she just closed her eyes and didn't actually fall asleep.

I always liked it when she tried to cover the fact that she didn't fall asleep, it really was fun.

But, I don't regret once meeting her, I've been in love with her since her first day at the BAU.

She got in about two years after I came in and when I saw her I just...immediately fell in love. Back then, I had shorter hair, and wasn't as sociable as I am today. A lot has changed about my behaviour and personality since. And...I think most of that is thanks to her. She made me a better person.

15 YEARS AGO, OCTOBER 2005

The previous day, we've all been notified of the arrival of a new member, coming from New Jersey, but Hotch didn't say anything else, probably to keep the element of surprise, and so that they could introduce themselves to us properly.

We all were excited, a new member meant an additional person to join our family, a new co-worker, a new person to know, it really sounded fun.

The next day, on a Tuesday morning, at exactly 7:40, she entered the office along with Hotchner.

She was trying to keep up with Hotch as he was walking, he was much taller compared to her, so she had some trouble walking at his pace.

They both headed towards his office, probably to talk a bit, sign some papers, I remember doing that on my first day here.

A few minutes later, Hotch and her went out of the room, as she shaked his hand, exchanging a few words.

During the whole time, I couldn't keep my eyes off her. I even waited for her to come out, staring at the door for at least twenty minutes.

The others even tried to call me, but after a few minutes, I think they noticed that the thing I was focused on wasn't the files,

It was her.

Finally, Morgan decided to come to my desk and move his hand in front of my face, as I blinked, looking at him in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"Hotch called the team five minutes ago, you were apparently too focused on the new one so you haven't even heard him calling us. If you don't want to get lectured by Hotch, get up fast."

"I wasn't focused on her..." I mumbled, while getting up, walking towards the conference room with Morgan.

I entered the room, noticing her next to Hotch, as the others were quietly talking together.

She glanced at me, and gave me a sympathetic smile before walking in my direction.

"Hi, you must be...Spencer Reid, right? I'm y/n y/l/n, it's nice to meet you." She said, reaching out to me.

It took me a few minutes to get out of my bubble, before I came back to reality, looking at her. "Oh, yeah, that's me. It's nice meeting you too." I said, giving her a handshake.

"Everyone, I think you've all met her now, but let's welcome the new member of our team. She'll be working with us from now on. We all look forward to working with you, agent y/l/n." Hotch said, as everyone clapped once he was done talking, welcoming words following.

And, of course, the following days Garcia kidnapped her a few times in her 'batcave', for getting to know her more, y/n was probably polite, and liked her too much to refuse her invitation, so she would always come, asking Hotch if anything was planned. Penelope wasn't that evil to the point of letting Hotch lecture her.

I enjoyed every moment in her presence. The little time we'd have with each other was more than enough for me. But at the time, I wasn't courageous enough to confess my feelings to her. So, we just were two close friends.

Nothing more.

We really grew closer the following months, we would get coffee for the other one, eat on breaks when we had time, exchange files, but my most favourite things were to see her arriving in the morning, and walk her home at night.

She would always have this beautiful smile on her face whenever she'd greet everyone on her way in. Eventually, I stopped staring at her like an idiot when I'd see her, and talked instead.

She seemed to like my random facts a lot, so before she would arrive, I would write a fact on a piece of paper, and drop it on her desk. She liked that small attention of mine, and kinda began doing the same with cheerful words she'd write on paper or randomly say to me throughout the day.

Slowly, it became a habit.

Our habit.

I liked saying that. It almost sounded like...we were together.

We weren't until, one day.

I suddenly came to her desk, and asked her out. It was now or never. Because if I hadn't done it back then, I don't know if I would have done it later.

Surprisingly, her first reaction was to cry. I got scared, thinking that she was about to announce that she already had a boyfriend or something else, but instead, she got up, and wrapped her arms around my neck, bringing me in a tight hug. I returned the hug, wrapping my arms around her waist.

"You took a lot of time to ask, I thought you'd never do it." She mumbled, loud enough for me to hear.

Soon enough, the team quietly gathered around, smiles on their faces. They wouldn't see that everyday, so might as well enjoy this moment.

When y/n broke our embrace, her eyes were still watery and a bit puffy because of the crying.

Before y/n even got to, I brought my fingers to her small face, wiping the tears from her eyes, which she immediately responded to with a smile.

Her smile.

That's the reason why I fell in love with her, and recently, asked her to marry me.

"Hey, Reid. Reid. You there?" A familiar voice said, snapping me out of my thoughts. I then realized it was Morgan a few seconds after.

"Yeah, sorry. Overthinking. I just got stuck in my thoughts for a minute." I said, trying to keep up with what was said previously by listening to Morgan's short resume.

"He kept the first one four days, and the second two days." Emily said, tapping her pen on the table. "Which gives and doesn't give us a correct estimation. But, from that, we could possibly conclude that he would approximately keep her…"

"Three or four days." I interrupted, while running my hand through my hair, in an exhausted way.

Everyone was exhausted at this point, we didn't even know if we would get the guy once, but mostly, we didn't know if we would be able to find her in time before he decides he wants to kill her.

We would have this crushing weight on us if we wouldn't manage to save her. We'd not lose an agent, but a member of our family.

And I don't think we'll get up from that.

Derek, Luke and Matt always act like she's their little sister, they like to tease her, take things from her desk and wait for her to notice it, bring her the wrong order before saying that it only was a joke, they really like her.

Emily, JJ, Garcia, and Tara immediately became best friends with her, they really liked going out with her at night, or even hanging out with her in general. She wasn't a big fan of girl nights, but she'd come anyway, it distracted her from all of the stress she had throughout the week because of work.

Which I understood, because even I like to throw myself on the couch and watch as many Doctor Who episodes as possible till I end up falling asleep. I do that, or just sleep.

When you work there, get as much sleep as you can because you never know if you'll get called for a case, and when you'll get sleep when you'll start working.

And lastly, Hotch and Rossi are like the fathers she never had. Rossi often invited her to teach her how to cook, chat with her, watch tv, he really is considering her like she's his real daughter.

Hotch always protected her, he likes to sit down with y/n to talk whenever she feels down, needs help with files, and she really looks up to him. He still lectures her sometimes, but he doesn't mean any harm.

They both are like her fathers, the fathers that I'm sure she would have wished for.

So, losing her would be the worst thing to ever happen to us right now.

From now on, every single second would be crucial. I could not permit myself to get distracted; it was a matter of life or death from now on.

Even if I had to go to the guy's place myself, I'd do it.

I would risk my life for hers.

I would do everything for her.

She's my everything.

Her life always mattered more than mine. She'd always say to me that I should stop saying that, but I meant it, it was absolutely true. I would have never lied to her about that, or anything else.

She always supported me in all of the imaginable ways. She never left my side once. Even when I'd beg to stay alone, she would come anyway. She always came.

Y/N always felt bad when she couldn't come to a date we've had planned, by making sure to bake something for me the next day. I never got mad, if she couldn't come, it was totally alright.

Everyone would sometimes get sick, or too busy with files. But no matter what I'd say to her so that she'd know that it was okay, I would continually find something she baked for me on my desk.

Losing her was my worst nightmare.

A nightmare that could become reality if we didn't find her in time.

"I'm sure we'll find her. You'll marry your girl, don't worry." Morgan said, a slight smile on his face. He probably was trying his best at being positive.

"I know you're supposed to think positively in these cases, but I just can't. If it's that guy, who knows if he's not going to kill her off, who knows if she's not already dead, I don't know what to think of anymore." I said, tears forming in the corner of my eyes.

"Hey, it's going to be okay. We'll do everything to find her. I promise, okay? Now calm down, you have to be strong for her."

"Yeah, I know, I know. We'll find her."

The rest of the day consisted of piles of papers, some short naps, coffee, emotional breakdowns, everyone was overwhelmed by the situation.

I never had to deal with it before, so I didn't know what to do, how to manage all my emotions, I was completely lost.

Just a month ago, I proposed to her, and now we're supposed to get married. I don't even know when.

It's not easy to plan something without it risking to be cancelled at the last minute because of a case. You can even get called at 2AM.

These last weeks, we actually planned to organise the wedding, but just when we had free time to do it; two cases appeared. I'm even wondering if we'll ever have time to do the actual wedding at this point.

We were supposed to discuss it this weekend. Garcia even wanted to help us, she adores weddings. It's the first one she'll get to organise. She was so excited when I asked for her help.

And now, all of our joy and excitement from the last days shattered in pieces when we heard of what had happened.

We all were devastated.

________

A few minutes earlier, Garcia had returned to her office, probably wanting some alone time. I knew she didn't really like to show her emotions in front of everyone, she finds it embarrassing.

Everyone was pretty much doing the same, trying to stay strong even through I know we all were on the verge of tears.

I was about to walk out of the room to talk to Morgan who had come back to his desk, when my phone loudly vibrated. I quickly noticed that it was a call, whilst I answered, placing the phone to my ear.

"Spencer, you need to come, now." Garcia said, with a panicked tone, hanging up before I even got to place a word.

Apparently, she had sent the message to everyone; some of the team members were already there.

I headed into the room, as all my hopes shattered at the sight of what I've just seen on Garcia's monitors.

I swore I almost heard her voice for a moment.

I wished for it to be true.

At that moment, I felt like everything around me was collapsing.

Hotch was the last to come in, closing the door after entering, as he headed to where I was, his hand now resting on my shoulder.

We're almost there y/n. Almost there.

__________

Taglist: @amanda-rotigliano , @thatsonezesty13 , @eevee0722 ,

A/N (2): I hope you liked the chapter! I'm sorry it took so long,, I had a lot of struggle writing it haha- See you soon for the next and probably last chapter. The post that will close this story after the 3rd chapter will be the Epilogue.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler fic #spencer reid fic #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds fic

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greenjudy · 3 years ago

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Inquisitor Ask Meme

Reposting this for fun.

Anyone else want to take a crack? What kind of Inky would you be?

@allsortsoflicorice? @tyramir ? Bueller?

1. Race:

Human.

2. Class/Specialization:

Rift mage.

3. Your homeland?

The Free Marches. Wycome, to be precise.

4. Your family?

Keep my family out of this; they have things to do besides die.

5. Who were you before?

A Circle Mage of some skill and much fear. Given my personality, the Circle would probably not cater to my strengths. It would make me more nervous and paranoid than I already am. The Inquisition would force me out of my comfort zone and give me some resilience I would never otherwise develop. Left to my own devices, I’d fall prey to obsession, and possibly possession by a Pride demon.

6. Would you be religious?

I’ve read a lot of books by Brother Genitivi and Philliam! A Bard; I’m actually using my clout as Inquisitor to gather whatever is known about the Black City. You might say I’m an originist, I want to know where we came from; Andraste is kind of late on the scene for my interests.

Post-Trespasser, this quest will more or less eat my brain.

Short answer: obsessed with “religious” subject matter, not religious per se.

7. Do you have a mabari?

Nope. But I spoil Cullen’s baby.

8. Your opinion on other races?

Raised to “not be racist” (as far as that goes) in cosmopolitan, edgy, free-wheeling Wycome; family with a ton of Dwarven trading connections. Angry about the elves. Knew loads of elven enchanters in the Circle, but I have awkward awareness of human privilege around the Dalish.

Fascinated by the Shaperate. Wish all Thedas had those. Can you imagine?

Worried about the Qun, but deeply impressed with the handful of Qunari I’ve met in person. Not mindless drones at all. Disciplined. Community first has some virtues, must say.

9. What would Varric’s nickname for you be?

Baffler.

10. What would your tarot card look like?

The High Priestess: an older, abbess-looking chick standing at a scriptorium, surrounded by magical paraphrenalia and a gorgeous view out my high window. Raven (with message) standing on the windowsill.

11. Where would you hang out in Skyhold?

My bespoke mage tower, if I’m not in the Undercroft picking Dagna’s brain. Do a little weeding in the herb garden from time to time; we’re growing some fascinating things in there.

After Solas leaves, I’d go spend time in the destroyed holding cells, watching the water fall.

12. What would you do for fun?

Study. Knit. Paint. Visit my horses; the smell of horses is very comforting.

I’d have highly technical arguments with Dorian and spend a lot, a lot, a lot of time talking to Solas.

13. What armor would you wear?

Cutting-edge tactical enchanted fabric. Light, layered, tweedy, enchanted.

I’d probably get sucked into magical materials research, specifically, making improvements to armor base-layers. I’m obsessed with armor. I have a whole research group (headed by Dagna, Cullen consulting) devoted to armor improvement.

14. What would your room look like?

Given the state of my current room, a chaotic mess of books, papers, research tools, letters from colleagues, blueprints, schematics, dirty dishes, orchids, and automata (Josie and I would be doll-geeks together).

15. Who would be your friends at Skyhold?

I try to make sure that the Inner Circle understands how much I appreciate them as a general rule.

As for friends:

Cassandra is one of the great ones. Just about the best person I know. Never met anyone so ready to acknowledge her mistakes. I’d trust her to be the next Divine.

Dorian is a dear. One of the best sounding-boards. Somebody peel that man a grape.

Cullen and Josephine are terrific advisors, couldn’t ask for better, their own problems of course, we’re all doing our best. I’d like to know Cullen better—suspect we have things, Circle things, to talk about. In another life, maybe.

I’d get on with Varric—everyone gets on with Varric, come on—but I find him ultimately very armored, hard to know. Hid his best friend, didn’t he? Never talks about the lady he loves.

Sera is actually easy to understand. Raw genius with a bow, one of the best to have along, out in the field. Not exactly my friend. So down on the Dalish. It’s her business, though. She and Dagna are adorable together. She makes Dagna happy, that’s good enough for me.

I have a bit of a GP for the Iron Bull. (He had me at “front-line bodyguard.”) Never acted on it, though.

Solas is my… see… well, see below.

16. Would you have any friends outside of the Inquisition?

I’d have the Thedas version of LinkedIn comrades in Antiva, Nevarra, and Orlais—researchers all. Plus one brilliant friend who’s a materials mage based out of Denerim, working with Sandal on woven metal enchantments; call her my “knitting buddy.”

17. Who wouldn’t you get along with?

Leliana would trouble me. Don’t like having someone this emotional and vindictive managing our intel networks. It’s bad juju, Ambassador; can’t trust her judgment, can you? And that feels like a loose end. Put us in a tight spot someday. Couldn’t we ask Varric…? No, I quite see that. Still.

I’d understand Vivienne, and try to maintain a cordial relationship because I think most of her head is in the right place, even though she is entirely too power-oriented for a real friendship.

Blackwall’s “find Darkspawn, kill them, repeat” approach would bother me. When I found out the truth about him, it would confirm my feeling that you need to lie to yourself, a lot, to just have enemies and kill them without compunction. I would also find myself highly influenced by Solas’s take on the Wardens.

18. Who would you romance?

I’m a Circle mage who’s watched close friends be tormented by romantic love. Demonic possession and Tranquility. Babies taken away. This is not the kind of conditioning that disappears just because you take me out of a Circle. In my youth I worked it out by restricting myself to impossible love objects—there was this one Templar, very stern, very disciplined…he’d barely speak to me… Well. That was many years ago.

That said, the best impossible love object I’ve ever encountered in my life is Solas.

What does it matter, really? Bonds of friendship, don’t you know; romantic love leads to envy demons. I’m old now, at any rate. Inquisigeezer not exactly a romanceable character.

19. Would you do pranks with Sera?

Probably not. Too busy. Too tired. Feel too much sympathy for her innocent victims.

But I would do operations with Sera, with pleasure.

20. Would you sleep with the Iron Bull (casually if not romance)?

My front-line bodyguard? Get on with you. It would get too complicated—for me, I mean, not him.

21. Would you keep Cole around?

Yes. And I’d agonize about what would be the best path for him to take, and probably make him a spirit.

22. Can you play the game (politics)?

Yes. I’m better at it the more distant it is. If you’re talking about what to say at a party, I’ve developed a persona for that sort of thing. Stakes are high. Can’t be fooling around. A mage, remember? This guard drops, I get possessed; lose my temper, might incinerate you, can’t have that.

23. What would be on your tombstone in the fade (What are you afraid of)?

“The world fell apart on my watch.”

24. Who would you recruit to seal the breach?

Mages. I understand mages. Their leadership’s been simply awful. Not sure what Fiona did with her spine. Without decent leadership, it’s mages running amok, trying to protect themselves, doing awful things out of fear; can’t have that, they’ll pull their own house down. Get them out of the weeds, stick ‘em in the Inquisition, give them a chance to show what they can do for the right cause.

25. Opinion on Mages versus Templars?

It’s all about training, though, isn’t it? Templars and mages both need much, much better training. Without training, without a penetrating education with a solid grasp of magical theory, history, ethics—co-train the mages and templars, make ‘em take core courses together. Make them work together in strike teams; I’ve been doing that since we recruited ‘em, they actually partner well, as long as you’re not, you know, mad.

I would become obsessed (do you see the recurrence of this word) with the idea that mages could be Seeker-trained to resist possession and mind control, obviating the need for Tranquility. These disciplined (another key word) and trustworthy mages could be placed in a position of joint authority with properly educated Templars to create a College of Magi with research cells all over Thedas…

Yeah. We’ll see how that works out.

26. Who would be put in charge of Orlais and why?

Celine and Briala. Celine is the one with the right temperament, and for some reason I viscerally understand Briala. I’m all about reparations and integrating elven populations and something something protect the Dalish (can’t we actually give them the Dirth?).

27. Would you sacrifice the Chargers?

I couldn’t.

28. Would you go after Blackwall?

Oh, yes. And I’d keep him on, as Thom Rainier.

29. Would you drink from the well?

Knowing me? Not knowing the implications except for those vague warnings? Yes, I would, and it would affect me for the rest of my life.

I’d spend what’s left of myself using whatever insight and connections the Well gave me to work on Solas.

30. Where would you go if the Inquisition was disbanded?

Under ordinary circumstances, the College. Daresay they’d want me to do something draining and administrative because of my being the (ex)Inquisitor; I’d look for a research niche but probably not get to keep it.

Solas is not ordinary circumstances. I’d dedicate the rest of my life to that problem.

31. How do you react to the egg telling you he is an elven god?

I’d naively and arrogantly imagine that I could—if we could just get enough time to sit down together—he must understand what he’s likely to bring about, he needs people to talk to, dammit—

He would be the death of me, I’m afraid.

#DA:I

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iwillgetridofyourangerforyou · 5 years ago

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The Good Doctor Kuseno

More questions than answers Possible Spoilers ahead!!

@gofancyninjaworld has a few excellent posts about this already please read them if you’re interested. These posts are well researched and provide a different perspective than my own. I recommend that everyone consume different perspectives to help inform and diversify their own. I also reference a few of them in my post here.

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/612670463398772736/when-cancel-isnt-an-option

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/612685729355759616/what-about-if-the-mad-cyborg-was-created-by

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/190986677872/the-nysh-forward-the-following-meta-has-been

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/187738207032/so-conflicts-of-interest-with-whowhat-else#notes

https://gofancyninjaworld.tumblr.com/post/184129389540/how-to-grow-old-and-stay-mad

What do we actually know about the good doctor?

As Fancy Ninja noted:

He claims to have been chasing ‘that cyborg’ for longer than Genos has been.

He used to be angry over some injustice.

He’s not afraid to take up arms in person.

He’s a skilled scientist/engineer, specifically he “likes to dabble with mechanical engineering”

He’s deeply invested in Genos. Seemingly in both the literal and figurative sense.

Additionally and significantly, He’s not a monster.

Why is 6 important? I mean, if Garou teaches us anything it’s that the lines between Human, hero, and monster are not as clear as we may have initially assumed. And yet, Monsters truly exist in this universe and their existence is significant. (It's also notable here that we have seen a few instances where monsters appeared as the humans they were before they consumed monster cells only to reveal their identity later, but for the moment this seems to be unlikely of Kuseno.) One of the possible interpretations of this fact is that despite his past anger and continued obsession with hunting this cyborg he still has something within him that keeps him human. I’m not sure exactly what that is in this case because if I’m honest, I’m not super certain what makes humanity human in general, in OPM or otherwise. Aside from that, we know fairly little about the good doctor. We know almost nothing about his past.

What he tells us:

“When I and Genos first met, we didn’t have a single ally. It was as if the pair of us were lost and alone fumbling in the darkness… I dived into research with all I could, trying to come up with some way to fight back at the forces of evil... and yet our troubles were just beginning, because me and my boy-”

vs THis:

What does Kuseno have to gain from all his tireless effort into Genos?

Despite my reservations about Dr. Kuseno I’d be remiss to fail to admire his work on Genos. Kuseno has done an incredible job with Genos’ upgrades. The aesthetic and humanizing touches he’s given Genos are so, and I cannot emphasize this enough, important. He has a human looking face and hair. Kuseno has even been aging Genos appropriately over time, he can even eat food normally. (And we all know he’s been keeping Geno damn hot in the process) The things that he’s done to humanize Genos is sincerely one of the most compelling arguments that Dr. Kuseno is a truly good bean. But he’s not off the hook yet.

When he says that seeing Genos reminded him of his youth when he was righteous and feared nothing always charging in without thought of consequences and I have to wonder, what consequences did Dr. Kuseno experience in his life that changed him? If he’s experienced so much in his life why is he still walking the path of vengeance and promoting that path for Genos? Even if he’s not promoting the path for Genos but merely ‘supporting’ Genos on his path wouldn’t you think someone who was so similar in their youth know better than to fuel a revenge mission? But I’m not particularly apt to believe Dr. Kuseno is merely going along with ‘pushy’ Genos. He definitely has his own motives here and we’re not very clear what those are yet. For this I recommend reading Ninja’s conflicts of interest post to get some different perspectives on his varied motives. One possibility is that he’s effectively living through Genos. There is a scene in Season 2 of the anime where Dr. Kuseno is standing in a beam of light talking about his quest for justice in his youth and Genos stands under Kuseno obscured in shadow. That image made me shudder. Now the care and attention Kuseno gives Genos feels much creepier, like a doll to be dressed up and played with. I hope that’s not the case.

Who is this Dr. Kuseno and what is his relationship with Genos? Fatherly? Or Patronizing? And what are the ethics and implications of allowing Genos such extreme body modifications.

I love a found family as much as the next person, but I find it slightly suspicious that a doctor that just happens to be an expert in cybernetics arrives in time to save Genos’ life after his village was destroyed by a CYBORG. So, we’ve learned that Kuseno was chasing the mad cyborg before Genos was so maybe that explains the convenient meeting but that makes me wonder, when and how did the Cyborg’s trail go so cold that neither Kuseno or Genos seem to know where it is at the moment (or maybe Kuseno knows something more about this and is hiding it from Genos)? We’ve also since learned that even though cybernetic components are relatively commonplace in this world modifications over 30% are extremely rare. ‘Enhancements’ as extensive as Genos’ are almost unheard of and extremely risky, including a risk of madness. How did Dr. Kuseno become such an excellent doctor of cybernetics? I couldn’t have just been overnight? Learning takes trial and error and mistakes. God knows Genos has given that man more than enough trial and error for a lifetime but what about before Genos?

Ninja noted that in all of the lab frames Dr. Kuseno stands a fair distance away from Genos. I immediately think of the anime Dororo from 2019 and the way Jukai handles Hyakkimaru, who is likely not less dangerous than Genos in context. Jukai is genuinely fatherly and close, only teaching Hyakkimaru to fight once it became clear the boy would not walk a different path. In the lab Kuseno is cold and distant and the atmosphere is draped in shadow. The contrast between Dr. Kuseno’s behavior toward Genos in public verses in the lab is notable. I don’t really know what specifically to note about it, except that it reinforces for me that the two men barely know each other, which is disturbing given that Genos has known Dr. Kuseno probably longer than he’s known anyone and Kuseno was effectively Genos’ guardian. How much does Genos really know about the man who holds his life in his hands if Genos didn’t even know Dr. Kuseno had a battle suit? What else is Kuseno hiding or omitting? At the same time Dr. Kuseno notes seeing a new side of Genos at Saitama’s apartment. Does Dr. Kuseno know Genos as well as he thinks he does when he says things like “you remind me of myself in my youth.” ?

Genos believes he isn’t good enough and never will be good enough. Intentionally or unintentionally Dr. Kuseno feeds into this insecurity. Does that mean he’s responsible for Genos’ insecurities? No. But it is a piece of the troubling looking puzzle connecting the two of them. Unfortunately, when Genos goes to see Kuseno it’s often in defeat so he didn’t get much meaningful encouragement from the doctor. Even in victory, after G4, Dr. Kuseno doesn’t give Genos much encouragement. “There are still areas where we can improve you” even after getting a completely new upgrade neither Dr. Kuseno nor Genos seem to be satisfied. We consistently see Kuseno chiding Genos for being reckless and begging him to be more careful and to stay alive at the very least. Perhaps Kuseno is more concerned about losing his investment than the psychological health of his charge? Kuseno is more of a scientist than anything else and it's difficult to fault him for his excellent skills but can you imagine how actually damaging it is for a growing human to literally be a never fished project in the eyes of the person who should be loving you unconditionally. We all need to grow and change constantly, but there is a difference between acknowledging a person’s strengths and weaknesses and only acknowledging (in any meaningful way) a person’s failures. It’s a habit Genos has made for himself but unfortunately, even if not intentionally, Dr. Kuseno may have helped build that habit. Ever since Genos’ family died everything in his life seems to be reinforcing the ‘not good enough’ narrative. Not good enough to save his family, not strong enough to protect anyone. Every victory is shallow and meaningless in his mind because his eyes were set only on the final goal of defeating Mad Cyborg. Which is, likely as not, unattainable.

Genos may see Saitama as his mentor but he is dependent on Kuseno for his growth making Kuseno far more practically his ‘mentor’. There is an important part of a typical hero’s journey story when a hero must move past the teaching of their mentor and grow on their own. This is a fundamentally important stage to help the hero see that they are ‘good enough’ they have the tools they need to succeed. Sometimes this transition is painful, think back to Iroh refusing to speak to Zuko while they were in the fire nation or when Jukai refused to help Hyakkimaru anymore. Both Zuko and Hyakkimaru were angry and devastated, but it was in the end a vital part of their progress. I fear a mentor who is either not willing or not able to allow them to surpass them.

Whether through compliance or malice the system created by the relationship between Genos and Dr. Kuseno is one where Genos relies heavily on Dr. Kuseno. If Genos is compromised he could put Dr. Kuseno at risk but the battle suit indicates that Dr. Kuseno may be more prepared to deal with risk than an average scientist. But if Dr. Kuseno is compromised that could put Genos in an early grave. Regardless of the scientists intentions Dr. Kuseno is holding Genos back. Since Genos’ latest upgrade in the anime we’ve learned that Genos used to have safety restrictions on his parts but when we first meet Genos he is about to self-destruct his own core. So what were the safety restrictions for? The practically seem more about preserving an investment than protecting the human being. Garou’s story seems to indicate there is an important part of the path for one to push their limiter is possibly to get to the brink of death itself (probably not the only way) but possibly Genos’ safety restrictions have been holding him well below his limiter for ages. Maybe he can’t break his limiter because of his cybernetic body but I honestly don’t think it’s so cut and dry. (Also I find it sad and notable that when Genos is about to self-destruct he apologizes to Dr. Kuseno for letting him down. Genos wants to live badly, but he’s so deeply self-destructive just the tip of the iceberg of emotional issues Genos is battling. When he apologizes to Dr. K, even though he’s the one who would lose his life! It’s like he’s so afraid of failing the Dr.’s expectations again he’d rather die.) Genos needs to be able to repair himself. I’m desperately afraid that the practicality of complete cybernetic repair will render Genos dependent on someone forever.

We already know that Genos would do anything to get stronger but what has ‘doing anything’ looked like for him? What does it mean for him? I don’t really know how you can take one look at this guy and deny he’s already made painful sacrifices to get stronger. It looks like he’s willing to sacrifice his dignity, youth, life, respect, independence, joy, all sensual pleasures, and much much more for his goal to be stronger. That goal servers a purpose and that purpose was given to him by Dr. Kuseno when his village was destroyed ‘defeat Mad Cyborg’. But what will his goal for ultimate strength be without the purpose that will almost definitely be taken away from him. Even if it isn’t and he accomplishes it what will he do then? Will the sacrifices be worth it in the end? Will he be able to rebuild a new purpose and a new life for himself?

#genos #opm #meta #one punch man #Forgive me I don't know how to make links look nice on tumblr rn #dr kuseno #kuseno #saitama #demon cyborg #cyborgs #How and why did he recognize the parts that Genos brought him #What does this mean?#“Somehow or other I ended up supporting Genos?#And yet Genos directly attributes his survival from the Mad Cyborg to the good doctor?#Before the doctor mentions that he’s been tracking the Mad Cyborg longer than Genos #and inquires how Genos’ search is going?#Is Dr. Kuseno is responsible for the creation of the Mad Cyborg?#Does Dr. Kuseno actively puts Genos at risk to gather useful data?#Was Mad Cyborg was destroyed already?#and does Kuseno know this?#Is he hiding that information from Genos to keep Genos hungry and desperate?#making him easier to manipulate.#If Dr. Kuseno and Bofoi are rivals and genos could be dangerously caught between them in the future?#I did a lot of research for this post because it’s a really dicy topic I have a lot of conflicting views about #I also have a bag full of internalized resentment I'm working through so please don’t look in there.#one punch man webcomic

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dammit-stark · 4 years ago

Note

i am OBSESSED with royalty aus

fun fact: red, white & royal blue by Casey mcquiston is actually my favorite book (tied with Emma by Jane Austen, obviously) but anyway this was heavily inspired by the plot of that book so I hope you like it! - p.s this turned out to be like 1.8k words soooooo here it exists now okay

DROP YOUR FAV AU IN MY ASK BOX (OR JUST ANY IDEA IDC) AND ILL WRITE IT FOR YOU :)

...

“We’re supposed to hate each other,” Tony insists, head hanging off the side of his bed, his feet cushioned in the onslaught of pillows by the head board. Nat sits criss-cross applesauce in his peripheral vision, flipping through a magazine, “It’s not my fault he’s a pompous ass and we’re star-crossed nemeses.”

Nat stops flipping to look at him under an arched eyebrow, “Star-crossed, Tony? Really?”

“Oh, shush, you know what I am. We’re total opposites. My dad got elected by the people into the greatest country in the world, and he was born into the crappy inbred monarchy whose ass we beat centuries ago.”

Nat doesn’t look up from her magazine this time, “Didn’t your dad fund his campaign with the millions of dollars he got from his inheritance?”

Tony pauses. In the silence, he can hear the blood rushing to his head. He chooses to ignore Nat’s logic, “I really don’t think that’s relevant here.”

Nat gets to the last page and the flimsy pages clap noisily together. She points an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t care if you think he’s the Loch Ness monster, it’s a royal wedding and you’re the first son of the United States. You’re gonna have to suck it up and be on your best behavior.”

“Oh, no, Nat,” Tony coos sardonically, still hanging upside down, “Are you afraid I’m gonna embarrass you?”

With a complete straight face, she throws her magazine at him, and stands so she’s towering above him. He has to stretch his neck to look at her.

“Yes, she says. I absolutely am. Now, what do you want on your pizza? I’m hungry.”

As it turns out, Tony isn’t humanly capable of staying on his best behavior at the royal wedding. He definitely embarrasses Nat, and maybe, sorta, totally causes an international incident in the process.

“It’s not my fault,” He tells Nat on the jet back to the States, still hanging somewhere in the precarious limbo between disastrously drunk and world-endings hungover, “He started it.”

Nat just glares at him, “I was standing right there, Tony. I watched you push him first.”

“I-“ There’s not much point in arguing, “Yeah. Dad’s gonna be pissed, isn’t he?”

Nat sighs, a long, never-ending sigh that makes her sound decades older than she actually is. Tony has that effect on people.

“Don’t worry about your dad, Tony,” She tells him. This time, she’s flipping through a classified file folder instead of a dime-a-dozen tabloid edition, “We’re gonna fix your mess, as per usual.”

Tony can feel the hangover rearing it’s head over the drunkenness, and he sinks into his chair, eyes closing, “You’re the best, Nat. Thanks.”

Nat rolls her eyes as Tony falls asleep, “Yeah,” She murmurs under her breath to herself, “Damn right I am. Dumbass.”

It turns out that Nat’s solution to Tony’s antagonistic little international incident is to make it seem like the whole The-First-Son-Just-Pushed-A-Beloved-Prince-Into-His-Brother’s-Wedding-Cake thing seem more like a frat boy-esque ribbing gone bad. Tony hates the plan, and he tells Nat as such.

“This is a horrible plan. It’s not gonna work, and it means I have to spend an entire weekend with Prince Pissy Pants.”

They’re on the private plane again, flying back to England to fix Tony’s mess.

Nat rolls her eyes, and punches him in the shoulder, “Get over yourself, Stark. If you don’t want to hang out with your so-called nemesis, then stop getting drunk and pushing people into wedding cakes. This is your own fault. We’re fixing your problem for you. Get over it.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but otherwise consents, “Whatever.”

Nat passes him a file folder.

“What’s this?”

“The Prince’s interests. Study it. Learn it like it’s the back of your hand, and then study it even more. If you get caught in a lie, Stark, you’re beyond dead.”

He gets two lines in before he tears narrowed eyes away from the paper to suspiciously meet Nat’s expression, “Did he get one of these about me?”

“Yep.”

“What was in it?”

“Your interests, Stark.”

Tony does not envy whoever got assigned that task. He wonders how accurate it’ll be. He obediently reads through the Prince’s interests among an uncharacteristic silence. Nat almost thinks he’s grown up until he breaks said silence with a snort.

“His favorite book is Great Expectations? Nerd.”

When they land, Tony remembers why he pushed the prince in the first place. Yeah, the alcohol did half the work for him, but- something about the Prince’s stupidly perfect, absurdly handsome face just makes Tony want to start shoving people into cakes. Surely other people have the same urge.

“Mr Stark,” The Prince says as greeting. He doesn’t even offer a hand for Tony to shake, just smiles with his hands folded together, “It’s a shame these are the circumstances that you-“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re very polite, I get it. Prince Steve here to save the day with his antiquated, impeccable manners. Yippee-kiy-yai.”

Tony counts it as a win that he sees a flicker in that smile, but it crests back to sparkly perfection with a blink of the eye. There are cameras. Tony sees Nat out of the corner of his eye, glaring beside a distinct row of security, somehow looking the most intimidating of all of them. He smiles back, pasted and ridiculous and spiteful, his whole body tensed and relaxed at the same time.

He smiles winningly for the cameras.

Later, at the hospital, Tony wonders how Mr Prince Perfect can put on such a facade, even with sick kids. Because that’s obviously what this is. He watches from across the room as Prince Steven kneels beside a sick kid’s bedside, smiling kindly, and talking to the little girl with her baby yoda doll tucked into the crook of her arm.

It’s not until Tony has completely committed to his eavesdropping that he realizes there aren’t any cameras around to capture Steve’s amiability. That’s the first moment Tony thinks oh, maybe this guy isn’t as fake as I thought he was.

“You totally wouldn’t be Han Solo,” Tony interrupts because he’s totally an asshole and he knows it (that’s the different between Tony and Prince Stick-Up-Butt, he at least owns his assholery), “You’re a textbook Luke Skywalker if I ever met one, Prince.”

Steve’s responding grin is surprisingly left-leaning, and the kid in the hospital bed is giggling.

“Are you gonna try to tell me that you’re a Han Solo then?”

“Actually, I-“

“Because you’re not,” Steve’s totally serious except a slight twinkle in his eye, one forefinger tapping against his own knee as the little girl sits enraptured by the ridiculous conversation occurring just above her, “You’re Anakin through and through. Not in a bad way, just-“

Tony doesn’t mean to come off as truly surprised as he really does, but the way he shuts his mouth immediately gives him away, “No,” He says, “You’re right.”

Steve’s lips punch off at the corners in an amused, vaguely self-satisfied way that makes Tony want to soberly push him into another cake so expensive you need to take out a mortgage to eat a slice. Before Tony can needle him back, the prince is smiling back at the kid, a gentle hand on her arm. Huh.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Wendy. Thanks for talking about Star Wars with us.”

And like the smug bastard he is, Steve gracefully stands from her bedside and leaves the room. Oh no he won’t. Tony follows, angrily.

That’s how they end up in a near-empty hospital hallway together. And subsequently, it’s also how they’re pushed into the closest nearby maintenance closet by the nearest secret service operative, tripping over themselves and invisible equipment alike as they’re safely hidden away. It’s also how they end up on the floor, joints every which way, elbows menacing and in all the wrong places as they cajole violently among the brooms and buckets.

“Your elbow-“ Tony grunts, “Is in my side, Steve.”

“Yes, well, my elbow wouldn’t be in your side if your elbow wasn't in my shoulder.”

“Get your shoulder out of my elbow!”

“Why do you hate me?” Steve cuts him off, a hiss in his voice. Ooh, Mr Perfect Prince can actually get angry. Exciting.

Tony takes a deep breath. Or- as deep of a breath as he can take without drawing attention to their tight little maintenance closet/hideout.

“You’re not real. You’re fake. Everything you do has been trained into you, it’s annoying.”

“I feel pretty real to me, Stark.”

“You just- it’s a persona. You’re a persona. And the whole world blindly loves you for it.”

In the dark, Tony chews on his bottom lip- a chronic bad habit of his.

When Steve responds, his voice is low, even lower than it necessarily needs to be to keep attention away from their location. He can’t tell in the dark, but Tony thinks his head might be bowed. He can practically hear the thoughts in the prince’s head. But then again, they’re physically close enough, practically spooning ridiculously on the ground, he might as well tap directly into Steve’s mind they’re so close together.

“Do you think I want to be a persona, Tony? Do you think I did this to myself? I’m still me, I’m just- guarded. It’s not up to me. There’s a lot more to the world than my place in it.”

Tony’s quiet. It’s a much more real answer than he’d expected. He’d half expected the prince to spit on him or something, dig his elbow extra far into Tony’s side or something. Instead he gets this vulnerable little morsels of honesty, and Tony has nothing to say.

“I-“

Tony’s cut off by blinding light. Nat whips the door open.

“Ew, what are you guys doing on the ground? Why are you spooning?”

Steve hurried to his feet, cheeks visibly red, “The threat?” He demands, and Tony’s surprised Nat doesn’t demand a full sentence like she usually does, the cocky bastard. She nods succinctly.

“A false alarm. However, we’ve deemed it safest to move onto the next event.”

“Great, thanks,” The Prince says, and moves off down the hall, disappearing behind twin EXIT doors.

Tony’s still on the ground when Nat swivels back to look at him, a smug smile on her face.

“You hate each other, huh? Is that what you’re calling it nowadays?”

Tony rolls his eyes, “Oh, shut up, asshole, and help me.”

But he hadn’t had to tell himself deflect, deflect, deflect, and he’s pretty sure something about being stuck in a children’s hospital maintenance closet changed his feelings on the guy. Something about it.

As Tony walks to his next event, he has to push to keep the prince out of his idle mind.

When he departs for the United States hours later, Tony leaves the prince with his phone numbers.

“To corroborate our stories or whatever,” He tells Prince Steven, though he’s sure Nat isn’t convinced, “So we don’t have to keep going between these losers.”

Prince Steven accepts the offering with a smile, and Tony gets on the plane, leaving Britain behind him one last time.

#royalty au #drabble #stevetony #rwarb au #I hope this makes sense even if you haven’t read the book #I’ve been meaning to write this for 6+ months so it was awesome to finally do it heh

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terramythos · 6 years ago

Text

Review: Vengeful by V. E. Schwab (Villains #2)

Length: 567 pages

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Science Fiction, Found Family, Revenge Narrative, Superpowers, Dark, Time Jumps, Perspective Shifts, Third-Person, LGBT+ Protagonist, Female Protagonist, Duology

Warning(s): Pretty much every previous warning applies here (violence, gore, genocidal thinking, etc). In addition, there is a VERY graphic medical torture scene, physical abuse, references to rape, implied hard drug abuse, and somewhat graphic sexual content. To reiterate: NO ONE in this story is a good person.

My Rating: 7/10

My Summary:

Five years have passed since Victor and Eli’s fateful encounter, when Victor enacted his perfect revenge. He finds himself in an unusual position; with other people to care for. There’s just one problem— his pain-manipulation powers have started to backfire on him. Every few weeks, they kill him. He comes back, but the intervals between episodes are growing shorter, and his amount of time without oxygen to the brain are growing longer. Thus Victor, Sydney, and Mitch enter a desperate race against the clock to find a cure— by any means necessary. Meanwhile, a new force rises in the city of Merit. When Marcella Riggins, wife to one of the most powerful mob bosses in the city, catches her husband cheating, he burns her alive to solve the problem. What he doesn’t count on is for her to come back as an EO with a terrifying power in her grasp. Now she’s out to take revenge and all the power of Merit for herself. As Marcella’s ascension to power progresses, she inevitably pulls Victor and Eli back into their deadly conflict.

“How many of us do you think there are?” “EOs?” June hesitated. “Who knows? More than you’d think. We don’t exactly go around advertising.” “But you can find them.” The glass was halfway to June’s mouth. Now it stopped. “What?” “Your power,” said Marcella. “You said when you touch someone, you can take their appearance, but only if they’re human. Doesn’t that man you can tell when they’re not?” June’s smile flickered, and returned twice as bright. “You’re awfully sharp.” “So I’ve been told.” June stretched on her stool. “Sure, I can tell. Why? You looking to find more of us?” “Maybe.” “Why?” June shot her a sideways glance. “Trying to eliminate the competition?” “Hardly.” She finished her drink and set the empty glass down, running a gold nail around the rim. “Men look at anyone with power and see only a threat, an obstacle in their path. They never have the sense to see the power for what it really is.” “And what’s that?” asked June. “Potential.” Marcella tightened her fingers around the stem of her glass. “This ability of mine,” she said as her hand glowed red, “is a weapon.” As she spoke, the glass dissolved to sand, slipping through her fingers. “But why settle for one weapon when you can have an arsenal?”

For my review of Vicious, the first book in this series, please click here.

Full review under the cut.

I really wanted to give Vengeful a higher score. After all, the first 90% of the book is a solid 9/10, addressing most of the criticisms I had with Vicious and containing much of what I had hoped to see in a sequel. It features deeper exploration of the characters, develops intriguing themes I had wanted to see more of, and expands upon the setting and premise in interesting ways. In essence, it’s a bigger and better version of Vicious… for the most part. However, it falls apart in the ending, to such an extent that it dragged down the whole experience for me. I’ll get into the whys later. But first I think it’s worth discussing the novel in general and which parts of it did click for me. After all, I’m not lying when I say most of it is very enjoyable.

Vengeful is written and takes place 5 years after Vicious. It’s roughly twice the length of the previous entry and features an expanded cast. Three main leads from the previous novel— Victor, Sydney, and Eli— all reprise leading roles. Joining them are Detective Stell (a minor antagonist from Vicious) and two newcomers— June and Marcella, the latter of whom shows up on the cover and in most of the promotional material. I was struck immediately by the writing improvements in Vengeful— including more detailed, imaginative, and interesting descriptions. Schwab obviously improved a lot on the 5-year span between this book and its predecessor.

Basically, Vengeful focuses on where the characters have come over the last 5 years— for better or worse— and how the world adjusts and changes in the presence of EOs— superpowered humans.

Like before, the story is told in an anachronistic fashion. There is an overarching plot, but it hops around the timeline showing different parts of each character’s lives. That could be confusing, but it’s well-executed here, as it was in Vicious. Unlike in Vicious, however, this entry dedicates entire chunks of the book to individual characters. For example, the story opens up with Victor and explores him for a while, then switches over to Sydney, then onwards through the six members of the main cast. Occasionally we get guest chapters starring minor characters or “check-in” chapters with others, but for the most part it follows this pattern. I really liked this approach, because it's a deep dive into each character and their complexities and motivations. There were times I had to backtrack and remind myself what happened in previous sections, but that’s probably more on me than the book itself.

The characters themselves are interesting, and probably the strongest point of the novel. I enjoyed each to some extent. It’s fun to read a story where nobody is a good person, yet what that actually means varies quite a bit. Sydney and Eli had the most compelling stories and arcs; both dealt with identity and one’s place in life and the universe, but explored different facets of the concept. Both characters have changed a lot from their introductions, and it’s been interesting to see. Victor’s struggles and desperation are a far cry from where he finished in Vicious, so that was interesting as well. I thought June was a creative take on a shapeshifter character (more on that later), and her level of obsession with Sydney and its development over time was alarmingly relatable. While I don’t find Stell particularly interesting, I do think he was an essential perspective for the story, and he does expand the world quite a bit with his ties to EON (again, more on that later).

The (somewhat twisted) found family between Victor, Sydney, and Mitch was a big high point of the story for me; there are some indications of it in the first book, but this one goes all-in. I really enjoyed seeing these messed up people genuinely bond with each other and form a ragtag family.

There’s also some good LGBT+ representation in the novel. The relationship between Sydney and June, while ultimately pretty screwed up, is flirty and romantic in nature (and again, uh, alarmingly relatable). Victor is canonically confirmed to be asexual as well. I’m of the opinion that LGBT+ characters should hold a variety of roles, heroic and otherwise, since we’re people. I’m glad to see Vengeful make it happen.

Marcella is probably where I struggled the most (outside of the ending in general). She was initially one of my favorite characters— imagine an ambitious femme fatale turned up to eleven and literally given the power to destroy anything she touches. Her chapters are certainly fun based on that premise. However, I spent most of the novel waiting for there to be something else to her. Possibly a secondary motivation, or some kind of personal moral struggle— anything. But there really isn’t. She is just straight up a character who wants to seize power at all costs because she thinks she deserves it. Marcella is a pretty flat character, which is disappointing when she’s (1) the face of the novel and (2) in a series that focuses on moral complexity and shades of gray.

Vengeful improves upon the worldbuilding in Vicious. Before, Merit was just a generic city setting. But this entry expands upon it— especially its criminal underbelly. It also develops some setting-specific concepts. New to the story is EON, a clandestine paramilitary organization that hunts down EOs and eliminates or imprisons them. Led by Stell and built with the best of intentions, there is nevertheless a sense of dehumanization and genocidal parallels as he struggles to control the expanding organization. It’s key to both Stell and Eli’s character arcs, and there is certainly enough material to expand upon in the future.

This may sound like an odd thing to praise, but Vengeful abandons the whole superhero motif present in Vicious. Yeah, it was an interesting moral dilemma in the first novel— who’s the hero and who’s the villain— but it’s played out by now. Having a setting which features superpowers but isn’t tied down by superhero tropes is a good call and allows for more creative plot and writing decisions.

One thing I really enjoyed about this novel is how it expands upon the superpowers in creative ways. Even established characters have new and interesting developments to their powers that are still in line with previous canon. For example, Victor— whose power is manipulating pain in others— discovers he can manipulate nerves in general, and develops the ability to control others’ movements. June is a shapeshifter, but it’s a unique take I haven’t seen before. Basically, she takes on key memories of anyone she touches, which gives her enough background to convincingly mimic them. In addition, she’s a living voodoo doll. If she sustains injury while disguised as someone else, they’re the one who gets injured, not her. This is used to interesting and creative effect several times in the story.

Overall, this has the makings of a really entertaining novel with some deep character arcs and interesting themes. I should be overjoyed this even got a sequel, and for most of the novel I was. So what’s up with the ending? How could it have so strongly impacted my experience with Vengeful?

My problem with the ending isn’t that I disagree with it, or didn’t like it on a personal level. I’ve dealt with plenty of endings that didn’t go where I wanted (hell, I’ve read some by this author). But I can justify and even appreciate just about any ending as long as it makes sense with what’s been established before. Does it make sense for the characters to end up here, based on their development throughout the story? Does the ending fully realize the premise? If so, it’s an acceptable ending. Even if it’s one I didn’t picture, I can understand and even learn to like it.

That’s not the case with Vengeful. I mentioned characterization as a strong point, but out of the six members of the main cast, I’d say maybe two of them end up in places that even make sense (not even in satisfying ways, just… make sense). That means that four members of the main cast have unsatisfying or nonsensical endings to their character arcs. Considering this, is it much of a surprise the ending impacts the score so much? I finished the novel scratching my head like wow, that’s really it?

And I’ve tried to figure it out, believe me. I finished this book weeks ago and am only now posting the review. I’ve gone back and forth, tried to justify certain endings, went back to see if I missed something, but… nope. And at the end of the day, I shouldn’t need to bend over backwards to justify an ending. It should justify itself. It should make sense in and of itself.

I’ll give an example of one character, because I think it exemplifies the root of the problem. (Obviously this will be vague to avoid Mega Spoilers, but it should be obvious who I’m talking about if you’ve read the book).

There’s one character whose main conflict is they NEED to find a solution to their problem. Throughout the story they seek out and find various people who might be able to help. But nothing is working. They grow increasingly desperate and resort to more and more extreme methods to find the solution. Eventually, they find what seems to be the answer, but their hopes are dashed once again. In a moment of personal growth, this character realizes that there is no miracle coming. Since they are the cause of the problem, the only one who can solve it is THEM. They resolve to find the solution themselves or die trying.

How does this arc end? I’m not even joking— they just straight up find a miracle solution. There is some setup for it… but that setup is tied to a completely different character. And regardless, it still feels like a deus ex machina; it destroys initiative. It’s even worse because this character’s arc peaks when they realize they must SOLVE THEIR OWN PROBLEMS, then the ending hands over the solution with no strings attached. Sure, they technically find it due to their own actions, but it’s because someone unrelated to them or their arc did something. Even then, there were ways to make it work— Schwab could have drawn parallels between characters, or played up the dramatic irony. It would still be weak, but at least it would show some self-awareness. But we don’t even get that.

That’s just the clearest example. There are multiple characters whose key moments are just ignored in the ending. It would be one thing if they realized certain things weren’t that important to them, or in a moment of dramatic irony fell short of where they were meant to go. Those things make sense. But that’s not what happens— the character arcs just end with zero solution to the problems and ideas the rest of the novel spends developing. It’s very unsatisfying, and I found myself wondering what the point of the novel even was. It honestly feels like the first 90% of the book is hand crafted and polished to a mirror shine, while the ending is a first draft with minimal edits and zero continuity with the rest of the story.

It’s possible, and even likely, that there’s more to the Villains story. Nothing has been officially announced, but certain aspects of the novel just scream it to me. One of the few characters who ends in a decent place has a very “the end… or is it?” outro. There’s a 4-page short story after the epilogue that focuses on a seemingly minor character and her origins. And some aspects of the worldbuilding, such as EON, could be explored more. In short, Vengeful sets up for a book three, or even a spinoff of some sort. But even then, the character arcs still need to make sense in the context of this novel, and they simply don’t. When the main strength and focus of the novel is characterization, the ending HAS to realize that potential. Vengeful doesn’t, and we’re left with a confusing and disappointing conclusion.

Feel free to take this review with a grain of salt— from what I can tell, Vengeful was critically well-received and a lot of people enjoyed it. Perhaps there really is just something I’m missing. But the ending was enough of a disappointment that it affected the whole experience. It was especially disappointing to me coming from an author I really enjoy. Perhaps there is more to the story, but it’s going to take a lot to win me back on this one.

#7/10 #taylor reads #taylor reviews #this was a tough one...

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eldritchsurveys · 4 years ago

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1033.

Have you ever felt a baby kick? >> I don’t think so. I mean, maybe? It’s possible? Maybe when Vlad was pregnant? But I don’t remember, so. What color pants/shorts are you wearing? >> Charcoal. When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? >> Well, I played a couple of hours of FFXIV earlier? I also watched another episode of Blackish while eating dinner, and that show is a lot of fun for me. What was the scariest moment of your life? >> Oh, who knows. I was probably not fully aware of my emotions at the time anyway, so does it really count as scary if I can’t fully feel my own fear?

Have you ever heard of Leonard Cohen? >> Certainly.

Pancakes or flapjacks? >> I don’t know anything about flapjacks, but I’m not crazy about pancakes. What kind of computer are you on? >> A Lenovo IdeaPad. Do you eat Chinese food? If so, what’s your favorite dish? >> Sure, preferably of the less Americanised variety. I don’t have a favourite dish, though. What are you usually doing at midnight? >> Sleeping. If I’m not sleeping, I’m doing a crossword or reading. Have you ever developed feelings for a friend, but you were already with someone? >> --- If so, how did it turn out? >> --- Give me your brief definition of love. >> I don’t have a brief definition of love. What is the most beautiful part of the human body, male or female? >> --- What kind of shoes do you wear? >> Either sneakers or Docs-type boots. What is the worst thing you’ve ever done when you were really angry? >> I mean, physically hurt someone, what else. Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? >> Yeah, I take CBD in the morning and I take the good old Period-B-Gon at night. Do you like the smell of coconuts? >> I do, but only in small doses. It gets overwhelming pretty quickly. What is the heaviest you think you can lift? >> I don’t know. Do you take Tums? >> No, I don’t need them. Have you ever walked on a pier at the beach? >> I’ve been on the Piers on the Hudson River, but I don’t think I’ve been on any legitimate beach piers. How about under one? >> No. At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? >> --- Do you feel that way around anyone now? >> ---

Do you ever talk to yourself or think deep thoughts while on the toilet? >> I usually read on the toilet. Do you ever sing to yourself? >> In general, absolutely. Not on the toilet, though. Couldn’t tell if this was a continuation of the last question or not... What is a sound that relaxes you? >> Babbling-brook type sounds. Forest sounds. Can Calah’s voice. Bruni’s voice. How hard has it been to reach your main goal in life? >> Can’t imagine what it’d be like to have one main goal in life. Like... that’s wild. Do you remember the song about hoes in different area codes? >> Yes, lol. Ahh, what a throwback. What is your main heritage? >> Hm. What kind of pickles do you prefer, if you like pickles? >> I like regular sandwich pickles. I also like bread and butter, which makes me a heathen in Sparrow’s eyes even though we unite over our liking of pickles otherwise. What kind of cheese do you prefer, if you like cheese? >> On sandwiches, pepper jack. With crackers, some kind of brie or Kerrygold swiss, but I’ll take pepper jack or cheddar in a pinch (and usually cheddar if there’s also apple slices involved). In salads, feta. And so on. If you could have a sea creature as a pet, what would you want? >> I don’t want a sea creature as a pet. How about a farm animal? >> Or a farm animal. So, do you have hoes in different area codes? >> Back to this again, eh? What is the most annoying song you can think of that came out recently? >> --- What is a song that you hate to admit you like? >> I feel like it’s insulting to myself to hate admitting that I like something. Getting enjoyment out of something is something to be appreciated, for me... What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? >> Inspiration is not what gets me to do things. Executive dysfunction, emotional dysregulation, and random triggers all piss on “inspiration”. I get up and do things when I fucking can. Do you ever use Urban Dictionary? >> I really don’t ever have to. Even slang that’s new to me I can figure out by context clues... Do you find the definitions on there to be generally funny or stupid? >> They’re definitely... special. What comes to your mind when you hear the word ‘transformation’? >> I have no immediate associations with that word.

What was something you regularly played with as a child? >> Paper dolls.

Have you ever given in to peer pressure? >> Sure. If so, what did you do? >> I mean, I don’t have specific examples right now because my memory sucks. But I cannot confidently say that I’ve gotten this far without ever giving into something my peer group wanted me to do. What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? >> My brain.

Do a lot of people check you out when you’re in public? >> I don’t know, I assume not, but even the suggestion that that’s possible makes me want to claw my skin off, so good job. What is a good name for a turtle? >> A name that matched its disposition and what type of turtle it was. Can you imitate any accents well? If so, which one(s)? >> No. Do you like having your ear nibbled on? >> Nooooo. What makes a good kisser a good kisser? >> I think it’s about whether the partner likes whatever it is they’re doing. Some people kiss in ways that would disgust the fuck out of me, but would be immensely pleasing to someone else. I guess the best kind of kisser would be the one who found out (either by asking outright or by trial-and-error/being guided) what kind of kissing their partner liked (and when!) and adapted to that. How many times a year do you have a family thing? >> --- What are the best things to put in a smoothie? >> I have no idea. Do you ever eat with your eyes closed and just focus on the taste? >> Sometimes. What do you dislike most about where you live right now? >> Oh, you want a list? Because I’ll make a list-- well, okay, mostly I just don’t like urban noise. I’ve grown really intolerant and skittish of the noises people make as they exist around me (this includes environmental noise like vehicles, airplanes, lawncare machinery, etc, as well). Has anyone ever given you a rose/roses? >> No. I’ve given roses a couple of times.

Are you watching your weight? >> I’m trying to not hyperfocus on my weight, actually. Have you ever become really good friends with someone you found online? >> I guess that’s what happened with Elle. “Really good” throws me off because I don’t know how good of friends we are...? I assume we’re just regular friends! I don’t know! Next! What makes your best friend your best friend? >> --- Do you have a drunk uncle? >> --- Do you hear weird noises in your house at night? >> No. What is something you do that is generally more like something the opposite sex does? >> --- What is the girliest thing you do, if you’re a girl? >> ---

What is the coolest tattoo you’ve ever seen? >> I don’t know, man, I’ve seen a lot of cool tattoos over time. In fact, just the concept of tattoos in general is cool. Have you ever created anything artistic that you’re proud of? If so, what? >> I mean, I’ve written some pretty sweet fanfic. Do you only eat the middle of the oreo, if you eat oreos? >> I don’t eat Oreos.

Do you know anyone with a huge ego? >> Maybe. If so, is there anything else about them you actually like? >> I mean, having a huge ego doesn’t automatically disqualify you from having anything likeable about you from my perspective... Have you ever used a racial slur, even jokingly? >> Yep. Considering a certain obvious racial slur is now a slang term... Do you have any friends who are more like siblings to you? >> ---

If so, what about them do you like most? >> --- What do you like on your hotdogs, if you eat hotdogs? >> On the rare occasion that I do, I like onions and sauerkraut and mustard. What is everyone else in your house doing right now? >> Sparrow is in her room, I assume watching more of the Amnesia Rebirth playthrough on YouTube. What is the most money you’ve ever had at one time? >> $10k. Retroactive payment from Social Security. (Yeah, that’s how long they denied me before I got approved. Long enough that they owed me a total of fourteen grand.) How long do you think it would take you to run a mile? >> I wouldn’t run a mile, so that’s that on that. Look down. What do you see? >> The dark void that is my clothing in this dim lighting. What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? >> Can’t think of anything right now. Not that such subjects don’t exist, just that they’re not coming to mind. What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? >> FFXIV. What kind of mood were you in most of today? >> A hyperaroused one. Had a lot of emotions and then had to deal with the backlash to having too many emotions before noon. Has anyone ever walked in on you naked? >> No. Tell me an inside joke you have with someone. >> I can’t ever remember these at random. What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? >> Let’s not. What is the worst thing you’ve ever done to someone emotionally? >> Let’s not. How do you feel now about the first person you ever dated? >> Nothing. He’s been dead for over a decade, any feelings about him exist only in emotional flashbacks. How about the last person (your last ex)? >> A little hurt still but mostly just pissed and disgusted. Most of the hurt I still feel now is grief towards myself and what I lost to someone else’s carelessness and self-obsession. What is the best invention ever invented? >> *shrug*

What is something that needs to be invented? >> *shrug* What always makes you burp? >> Carbonation. Well, not always, I guess? But often. What are you doing tomorrow? >> I’m not sure yet. I’ll know when it gets here.

#surveys #survey #random survey #not for reblogging *glare*

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duhragonball · 7 years ago

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Babbling about Comics

One of my New Year’s resolutions is to get back in gear with my plan to read my entire collection of X-Men comics. I had this big plan to do it in 2015, but I only made it about halfway, which put me around Uncanny X-Men #280 (September 1991). That’s about 29 years’ worth of comics, though, so my plan was probably unrealistic.

Ever since I reblogged this, I’ve been thinking about how I used to be big into American comic books, but not so much anymore. One person in that thread jokes about how complicated it is to start reading X-Men and Wolverine, and the thing is, I actually know how to do that, because I spent maybe a week in 2014 obsessively studying the Marvel Chronology Project website to come up with a good reading order. Honestly, it’s kind of fun, but only because I’m a maniac. I can’t see how any normal person would even want to bother untangling that mess. The system was designed for only two kinds of immersion.

1) You bought the comics when they were published, and read them in more or less their intended reading order, because you had no other choice.

2) You’re a maniac like myself, who accumulated all this stuff after the fact and you’re determined to go back and figure out what happened.

Nowadays, it’s a lot easier for a new fan to dig into the past, because so much of Marvel’s back catalog is available in digital format, but it’s still a pretty big paywall when you think about how many X-Men comics they’ve made. And even if you download torrents, you still have to read the whole thing, and who has time for that? Generally, Marvel’s marketing strategy has been to try to make the new stories accessible enough for new readers to follow, while only reprinting the older material that’s important or popular. As a collector and a completist, this always frustrated me, but I think I’ve finally begun to see the wisdom of that approach.

See, the real gateway to a franchise like this is to stick to the greatest hits. For me, that’s Uncanny X-Men #94-167, which spans 1975-1983. Then you jump all the way to Wolverine’s solo book, which started in 1988. The first thirty issues of that are really, really good. I like the stuff that Larry Hama did with Wolverine later, but it’s not for everyone. If you want to read a crossover, I’d recommend “X-Tinction Agenda”, since it provides a decent snapshot of where the X-Books were at in 1990. Now, I’m skipping over a lot of other material from the period, but a lot of it was pretty awful, and the good issues of X-Factor and New Mutants were kind of inessential. The point is that you have to sample the best stuff first, then decide if you care enough about the characters to go dumpster diving through the rest of it. You’ll find some gems, but you have to be willing to put up with some real crap to get at it.

For example, right now, I’m in the middle of 1992, which was sort of a defining period for the X-Men franchise. Chris Claremont had ended a 17-year run as the writer, and they were trying to build everything around superstar penciller Jim Lee. I don’t know what went wrong exactly, but by the end of the year Lee had left to start his own company, and a lot of the X-Men comics from that year have a long list of co-plotters, co-scripters, and guest artists. The flagship title, X-Men v.2, held up reasonably well, but it’s sister Uncanny X-Men suffered from neglect. UXM #281 was supposed to herald this bold new era, but instead it just looks like a tire fire, one that continued to burn until #293 at least. But, those issues are notable because they introduce Lucas Bishop to the franchise.

I never cared much about Bishop, except that he looks pretty cool, and he had a cool voice in the X-Men cartoon. Otherwise, I only knew he was a guy from the future with a gun, just like the dozen other future-guys-with-guns in 90′s comics. But when Bishop was introduced, he hailed from the year 2062, where he’s part of a Judge Dredd-style security force. Bishop revered the X-Men as legends, but once he meets the real deal he quickly finds out they’re not what he expected. Bishop sees himself as a peacekeeper, and he’s honored to join the X-Men, but he keeps finding his violent, hair trigger methods at odds with the X-Men’s rigid protocol.

The thing is, I identify with the guy. I used to write him off as a knock off of Cable, or one of the other loose-cannon hardcases the X-Men keep recruiting, but they actually found a way to make Bishop stand out from the crowd. He loves the X-Men in theory, but he really doesn’t understand what makes them work. Which is sort of like me trying to read all these comics I only know by reputation. A lot of of the things fans praise the X-Men for are vastly overrated or completely misrepresented. The conventional wisdom I always got from the fans was that the X-Men were only great when Claremont wrote them, and then Scott Lobdell took over and Ruined Everything(tm). The reality (from my perspective) is that Claremont ran out of mojo around Year Eight of his 17-year run, and he was running on fumes from ‘83 to ‘91. I’ve seen fans carry a torch over what happened to Madelyne Pryor, but as far as I’m concerned Madelyne Pryor’s introduction was when the Claremont run jumped the shark. Her whole character arc was a no-win scenario and their biggest mistake was in not ending it sooner. I used to think the X-Men comics of the early 90′s were a creative train-wreck, but somehow it managed to generate Bishop, and that gives me hope.

Also, there is something oddly comforting about reading these old comics. Nothing ever really changes with the X-Men. If a character gets killed, they just come back a few years later. If a character quits or turns evil, it’ll get reversed later. The X-Men never really win or lose any battles. They just sort of show up and fight, and then something else happens and they get distracted by that for several issues. Last night I read the issue where Forge gets upset because he’s in love with Storm and he hasn’t even gotten five minutes alone with her to rekindle their feelings from 1988. He awkwardly proposes to her, and she punts, telling him she’ll think about it. In the very next scene they have together, he leave the mansion before she can even give her answer. Forge is convinced that Storm doesn’t really love him, and that she’ll never set aside her X-Men career long enough to make time for a serious relationship. As he slams the door, she mutters “I would have said... yes.” That’s classic X-Men for you. All angst, all turmoil, no resolution. We don’t know if Storm is sincere or not, and Forge won’t even stick around to find out. Is he right about her, or is he just too afraid of rejection? Maybe we’ll see in a later issue, but I bet we don’t. It’s Schrödinger’s ship. Everything sort of hangs in midair.

Now, I might have said that this is why I’ve come to prefer anime lately, because the stories are more decisive. Goku married Chi-Chi and that’s it. Done. There’s no hotshot editor trying to split that up or retcon it to clear the way for a fresh pairing. The real tragedy of Storm is that she’s trapped in Comic Book Time, so she couldn’t have a long term relationship even if she wanted to. If she had married Forge in 1992 they would have inevitably been divorced a short time later, because Marvel likes to rotate romantic partners around every few years. Storm actually married the Black Panther later on, but I’m pretty sure that’s over now. But Goku’s marriage to Chi-Chi is absolute. I like certainty. It helps make the characters feel more genuine, and less like imaginary dolls driven by editorial whims and sales charts.

But, having recently finished Revolutionary Girl Utena, I find the X-Men’s open-endedness kind of soothing. I didn’t get what I wanted from the ending of the Utena TV series. I’m not sure what I wanted, exactly, but what I got wasn’t completely satisfying. I may warm up to it later on, or I’ll watch the movie version and see if that’s more to my liking, but that’s pretty much all I’m going to get. With the X-Men, I’m not particularly invested in the characters, and I have a general knowledge of what happens to them, and that anything that happens to them is mutable and transient. It takes a lot of the punch out of Forge walking out on Storm, but it’s still decent theatre, and I’m not in the mood for dramatic punch right now. Utena was like getting dramatically punched by Star Platinum for five pages. I’d watch one episode and then I’d have to take a break before moving to the next one. Not everything needs to be like that. Sometimes it can be Bishop possibly getting Storm on the rebound, only to discover that she’s not as good in bed as the history books said she was.

Nevertheless, I think this is something the comics industry needs to address. I got fed up with following comics because the new ones are expensive and inconsistently produced, and nothing worthwhile ever happens in them either. They keep relaunching series with new #1′s, or renumbering them every time they get close to a Big Round Number, so it’s probably even harder to keep the reading order straight than it was twenty or thirty years ago. So it’s a lot of the same hassles you get from back issues, except my back issues are already bought and paid for, so I might as well waste my time reading them instead of paying for overpriced new stuff. Their best bet is to introduce new characters, especially female, POC, and LBGT+ characters that are tough to find in the back issue rack, because that’s something novel they can use to draw modern audiences. Because Thor’s dealt with Ragnarok about a dozen times already, and the X-Men haven’t accomplished anything tangible in 30 years, so eventually no one’s going to fall for the same corny “Nothing Will Ever Be the Same!” gimmick.

#disclaimer: i don't know if storm and bishop hook up or not #but the last issue i read sure seems to want me to think they could #but even if they did i know it wouldn't last because she ended up marrying t'challa in 2006 #but i have no idea what she was up to in between so maybe bishop had a shot #and that's what's neat about delving into a long run of comics #to find out if something just didn't happen or if it did and fans just never talk about it

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myanime2go · 5 years ago

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DIY(Or Not) Angels of Death Cosplay

Angels of Death Cosplay Even after being out for awhile, fans are still talking about this awesome anime. I might be a biased being a fan myself, but everywhere I go (online) there are still references, fanfiction, fanart and of course COSPLAY about it. With the fandom still being a favorite, I decided to do a more in-depth way to actually cosplay as these characters. Cosplay is already a way to express ourselves. It's a way to feel and even be like our favorite characters. Maybe in the case, it wouldn't be the best idea to go on a killing spree, but we can still dress like our favorite psychos!

Angels of Death Cosplay: Zack

Of course, Zack would be first. When it comes to AoD, he is the most talked about. Here at myanime2go, we've already written several articles about him such as if he's a psychopath or sociopath or how the ending really went down. We can start with the DIY version first. Zack's outfit consists of dark red pants, combat boots and of course, the signature bloody brown hoodie and scythe. He has dark black hair that you can wear a wig for or simply style your own. All in all, his is fairly easy to do. Afterall who doesn't love wearing jeans and a hoodie anyway? FOr his bandages, you can use gauze like some people do but in my opinion, it's easier to use face paint to keep it from looking bulky and more natural. Link HERE for a youtube tutorial on zack's face makeup(aka bandages)done by Hope & Shota that was very easy to follow. Angels of Death Cosplay Rachel Gardner "Ray"

Next up is Rachel, Zack's new partner in crime. I really find the character of Ray interesting since it's hidden for so long that she's actually a resident. Some people hate the thought of her and Zack being OTP but I can totally see it happening. Not right now OF COURSE but after they've both grown more and dealt with their issues. Someone mentioned Zack might have PTSD and/or schizophrenia and I can see that. Rachel on the other hand seems to have Stockholm Syndrome with her family, something I can relate to. Families are supposed to protect you and to love/care for you. Ray was given the short end of the stick with a father that gets drunk and beats her and a mother that is narcissistic. They treat her like she's a doll that they can bend to do their bidding and just put on a shelf when they're done. Okay, rant over. Let's get to cosplay. You can do a simple black and white shirt(or tank) with a black pair of shorts, black booties and a long white jacket. Most of us will definitely need a wig to get to her long blonde hair. I don't know how she takes care of it. For real, the tangles and upkeep must be going strong.

Angels of Death Cosplay Eddie

Edward Mason "Eddie" is also another fairly easy one to do. The hardest part for his would be his helmet. Otherwise, you just need a white shirt, overalls and black boots. Eddie is another fairly popular character. His obsession with Rachel isn't the best but he's not the worst. Angels of Death Cosplay Cathy

Cathy is a bit harder to do but you can easily make it with a black suit dress(skirt and blazer) and thigh high black boots. Her signature hair is blonde with pink tips. You could try temporary hair dye(usually lasts for about one day) or use the wig. Otherwise, grab your whip and practice the maniacal crazy laugh. AoD Danny

Danny...I still don't know what to think of him. Out of the bunch, I think he's the most crazy. Wanting to steal Rachel's eyes..it just gives me the shivers thinking of how he most likely did that with others. His outfit consists of a black suit with a collared shirt (you can use white if needed or a pale blue) and a white lab coat. Otherwise just work on being as creepy as you can be. Just kidding. Please don't do that. AoD Gray:

Gray isn't as popular as the first two or say, Eddie, but he's still a pretty good character. After all, he's the one that made the building and the rules. As horrible as it would be to be a sacrifice there, I do like the fact that he made a family of sorts for Zack and Ray. His cosplay outfit is black pants, white shirt(collared) with a dark purple vest and a long purple coat. Just grab a necklace with a cross and carry a bible and yu're all set. This was just the DIY version of all the characters in Angels of Death. Sometimes it's just easier to get it all at once and end up saving money in the long run. Here is the complete version you can buy online to make it so much easier.

Have you already cosplayed as one of them? Who is your favorite? Let us know in the comment below! As always, Keep Smiling! Read the full article

#AngelsofDeath #cosplay #cute #kawaii

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thejokersenigma · 7 years ago

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Joker x OC - Strictly Business Part 1

Hi guys, so this was a request I was given at the beginning of the week:

Hi there! I have a request if you don't mind ;) How about Joker got obsessed with a married woman? I'm just dying to see what he's going to do. I don't want to limit your imagination, but still a little application... I just see that marriage was more like marriage of convenience in a good way. Maybe this woman and her husband are like business partners too.

There were a few particular they wanted, but that would make this a long post (longer than usual) so I'll leave it at that!

After beginning to write this I figured it would be better as a 2-3 part piece, and as the Anon didn't specify if this was suppose to be a oneshot or not I've decided to spilt it up (otherwise it would be huge because I'm really bad at writing small pieces of work! haha

Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Thank you to the Anon for the asking for the request - I hope it's what you were after - let me know if it's not and I can try again!

Masterlist

Strictly Business MASTERLIST

I shuffled together the mass of papers that were splayed out over the expanse of my desk, shoving them into a neater pile and tapping them on the flat surface until they were inline, then placed them to the side of me.

I straightened up, hyperextending my back and feeling the ache ring through my muscles – maybe I ought to take up Yoga again – hunching over a desk wasn’t helping my posture or my back.

I pushed myself to my feet, the sun already beginning to fade behind the skyscrapers that filled the view from my large office window. It was getting late and I needed to get going.

I picked up my now-uniform pile of papers and nestled them into the crook of my arm, moving around my desk and heading for the door, grabbing my handbag and coat from the hook on the back of the door.

I locked the office up behind me, dropping the keys into the expanse of my back, before straightening myself out and walking the brief distance across the open floor of offices to the only other room as large as mine on this floor - and the entire building – my husband’s.

I knocked smartly on his door, pausing only a moment before I heard the faint acceptance into the room and I pushed the door open.

Though the room was as large as mine, it was decorated completely differently. Whilst mine took on a more modern look and was decorated to look sleek with its metals and sharp edges, Mathew’s took a more traditional, old-fashion design of dark wooden furniture and dim lighting – as close to a hunting lodge as he could get.

My eyes met my husband’s first when I walked into the room, he sat behind the large dark oak desk, his attention momentarily diverted from the folder in front of him. I gave him a small smile of greeting before turning my attention to his visitors who sat on matching dark leather armchairs on the opposite side. I nodded to them in greeting and they returned warm welcomes, knowing full well who I was.

“My apologies, gentlemen.” I said quickly, striding past them to my husband, who stood up to greet me. “Just some last-minute paperwork before I get ready for the gala tonight.” I explained handing the papers over to Mathews waiting hand.

“Off already?” He asked, surprised.

Ah Mathew – always the one to burn the midnight oil.

“It’s already getting dark.” I pointed, knowing full well he probably hadn’t looked at the time for at least 3 hours – too busy wrapped up in meetings or papers to ever look around his environment. He could work in the sewer and not care as long as the work kept coming in – it made me wonder why he’d bothered with such a nice office space. “Besides, I have to make sure everything is running smoothly,” I said, with a smile at the men sat across from me then smile in agreement, “and then I have to get ready myself – not all of us can just throw on a suit and turn up.” I added with a wink in the direction of the other men who chortled at my teasing.

“Fine, fine.” Mathew brushed me off with a slight hand gesture, too busy for my gentle ribbing right now and already flicking through the papers I had given him, his mind quickly becoming lost in them. “I’ll see you this evening then?” He asked, but I could tell he was already lost in the documents, so I gave him a small nod and headed for the door. “St. George’s?” Mathew suddenly called out to me and I turned to see him looking at me. I nodded again – his memory for things other than work rather poor. “Tonight then.” He said, half to himself, immediately re-immersing into his reading. over the corner of the dark wood desk to.

I gave a small smile to the other men and left the room.

I spent the rest of my evening darting around the venue for the gala later that night, checking the alcohol had arrived, the servers present, the decorations in place and any other little problem that was handed to me. It was a bit later than I hoped that I finally headed back to my flat. I spent the last few hours getting myself dolled up and ready to host, whilst also answering the phone that continued to ring for my attention – I never stopped working.

Work ruled my life now. It hadn’t always. I used to be young and foolish, carefree like many others in their 20’s. But then reality had hit me at 21 when I lost both my parents and soon found myself without any money. That had been a cold hard slap in the face at a time where I was used to having spare cash to throw around as I pleased. Suddenly I was forced to work to survive and I could no longer afford to be frivolous or waste my time on anything but improving my prospects.

But now I was better off than I had ever been – I made more money than anyone in my family had ever done, thanks to now owning one of the largest business in Gotham, rivalled only really now by Wayne Enterprises.

Yet I still worked constantly.

There had been a time when I was taunted by my colleagues for never 'letting my hair down', but I had simply regarded them as childish, they didn’t know me – no one really did, I had no friends left from the tie before my parent’s death – and no one could understand what my work meant to me.

I think I found enjoyment in it. In my work.

Before it had been a way to get money, to survive and then to be comfortable, and then secure.

Then it had become a coping mechanism to deal with the tragedy in my life, I had kept myself buried in the work load from the start to keep my mind busy on anything but what I had lost.

Now it thrilled me – the tense waiting for a deal to come through, the rush when you pulled off the biggest merger, the power of manipulation of those who hadn’t been in the game long enough to realise they could be so easily swayed by a few choice words.

It kept me going.

If I didn’t have my work - if I stopped for even a moment – I would surely collapse under the weight of everything I had been putting off for so long.

After applying the last touch to my makeup I grabbed my clutch and shrugged a thin shawl over my shoulders, before I headed out into the night. I hailed a cab and sat silently in the back, tapping away at my phone and relishing in the peace behind I had to endure a night of socialising.

I wasn’t a huge people person. I dealt with them because I had to, not because I wanted to - If I could have it my way it would be just my job and me, no one else. Not even Mathew.

Maybe that was why I didn’t mind manipulating and conning people the way I did, and maybe that was why I didn’t care that I never went out, my social life only comprising events like tonight - which was really just another night of working for me. After all, it was events like tonight where all the huge deals were make - there was at least one merger that hung in the balance this evening.

So that’s how I tricked myself into putting up with these things – it was just a large, slightly oddly laid out, meeting room, full of people to be seduced and persuaded into giving me their money and their businesses.

My problem was, few other people saw it like this.

And that’s how I ended up where I currently was.

I had entered the large venue room relatively late for the hostess and worked my way around a few of the groups of businessmen and socialites, chatting away where necessary, laying the foundation for further, more serious talks later. Eventually I had found my husband on the other side of the room, already engaged in a deep conversation with a couple of Bruce Wayne’s employees.

I had strode up to them, greeting the group of men warmly. Mathew had given me a small peck on the cheek – the obligatory mark of a man greeting the woman he was lawfully wedded to – no romance and little tenderness in the gesture, simply something to keep up the show of our relationship.

I had stood with them for a while, happily chatting about the ever elusive Mr. Wayne and how their company fared with the recent drop in certain stocks and rises in other areas, both of the sides staying just as closed up and carefully as the other.

If I could stay speaking to the men all night like this, these evenings were generally fine – all of us enjoying the discussions of numbers and profits. However, all too often I was singled out by my gender and driven over to the other women in the room – the businessman’s wives.

These ladies had no idea what a profit margin was or the difference between fixed and variable costs and instead insisted on talking about their family lives and the gossip amongst the rest of their little group.

My problem was, I didn’t care that Junior had just started walking, or Mary had just made it to high school, I didn’t care that Mark had just proposed to Sue or that James seemed bored of Kim. I had no interest in children – other peoples or my own – and I didn’t care about romantic partners – despite marrying Mathew.

But that had never been romantic – it had never been for ‘love’.

When I was younger my parents had always pushed that they wanted me married, and I had fallen for everything a young naïve child does about love at first sight and the hopes of being swept off my feet by a handsome stranger across the room.

Of course, that had gone with the rest of my foolishness after my parents had passed, but the question of marriage never seemed to leave the conversation - in fact, as I got older, the question of my single-hood became more and more repetitive.

That was about the time I had met Mathew. He had been in charge of a company of similar size to my own and we had been on the war path for quite some time - always trying to outdo one another. I had seen nothing there but two businesses fighting it out to be on the top.

Mathew had not.

After a particularly heated meeting between our two sides he had pulled me aside and waved a white flag, asking me to drinks that evening. I had seen it as a chance to ply him with alcohol and get some information from him and had accepted.

Information was not what I got however. I got a marriage proposal.

I thought it had been ridiculous at the time – a simple whim from the man after too many whiskeys. But - ever being a business woman - I had not turned him down straight away. I let the offer linger.

The next few days I had considered my options, planned and reworked every outcome possible from the different sides of this ‘deal’ as I called it. I couldn’t see a reason not to say yes – if he agreed to my conditions.

And so, we had struck a deal. Our companies would merge, both of us would be joint, equal partners with it, and I would marry him - thereby removing the pressure of society off my back.

I never truly understood what he got from it – had he wanted the companies merged? Surely there was another way around other than marrying me? Had he ‘loved’ me? I was never sure and I still wasn’t sure of anything but that he definitely didn’t ‘love’ me anymore.

“So, any sign of children on the horizon for you, Leah?” The voice forced me to focus back in on the conversation around me as the 3 elegantly dressed women in front of me chattered away. This was the new repetitive question to replace that of marriage.

For the millionth time I shook my head, “We’re both so busy people.” I explained, “We don’t think it would be fair.”

“Me and Harvey thought that initially, but our nanny is perfect!” Explained the tall, stick thin woman to my right. I nodded and smiled as the conversation now switched to everyone’s current or previous nanny and nursery services.

I downed my glass and excused myself for a new drink, making my way over to one of the many small tables laid out with refreshments, in case the servers were busy elsewhere. I grabbed a fresh glass of champagne and found myself stood by the entrance to the vast room, hidden away from the pressing crowd behind a pillar.

I sipped at my drink, watching the tendrils of bubbles swirl and waltz in my champagne, as I recuperated from the suffocating mass of bodies.

A movement to my right caught my eye and I turned my head to see a man walking through the large double door entrance way to the room. He wore a tuxedo that fitted his frame perfectly, with no tie or bowtie and the top few buttons of his shirt undone to leave the muscles around his neck clearly visible. He carried a cane with him, occasionally using it, but mainly swinging it at his side in his white gloved hands.

This is in itself was unusual, but was not what initially caught my eyes. No, my eyes had been dragged by his long vibrant green hair that was slicked neatly back in place and the bright red lips that were only emphasised by his very pale, almost alabaster skin.

I couldn’t seem to look away from him, I was too intrigued by his appearance and the power he seemed to just exude as he stood there surveying the room. There was something very odd about him and I was certain he couldn’t have been on the guest list – so how did he get in?

He looked almost bored as he glared out into the room. He held himself different from anyone else, with a vast amount of self-confidence that suggested he was far more important than any of the other millionaires in the room and he seemed to be almost assessing the room, like a lion assessing a herd of prey. The look in his eyes made me shiver.

The movement seemed to catch his eye and his gaze darted straight to mine. I was used to people trying to stare me down to intimidate me - and I was good at holding my own -but the intensity of the look he gave me seemed to burn my eyes and the itch to drop my gaze was agonizing.

He started to step toward me, and even his walk was different, it was precise and graceful and it felt like he was stalking me. It was only as he got closer that his appearance became stranger, he didn’t have any eyebrows, and there was a ‘Damaged’ written in cursive on his forehead and a small J under his left eye.

“Well hello there...” He growled, eyeing me up and down, swinging his cane as he approached. “Aren’t you… Beautiful…” He snarled, his voice sounding sinful and - though I scowled at his vulgarity - I wasn’t nearly as disgusted as I should have been, instead I could feel my temperature rise by a few degrees. He held my gaze a bit longer, the icy blue seeming to trap me.

“Why don’t you be a doll, doll, and go get the man in charge.” He purred at me, breaking the eye contact off and surveying the crowded room.

"You’re looking at her, doll.” I mimicked, not amused by his patronising comment.

He raised his invisible eyebrows at me, “Hmm,” The pale man seemed to consider me with interest, “Fiery little cracker aren't ya, doll?” He asked, stepping closer towards me with a sneer on his face. I read the power play in his movements, many a man having tried this on me before - even Matt had attempt it when we first met. I stood my ground, reminding myself repeatedly that I could have this man thrown out of here easily – though I would prefer not to make a scene.

“No, sir.” I replied firmly, not amused by his childish mocking, “ I am just a woman hosting an important business gala with a very strict guest list. And I am certain that no child entertainers were required.” I told him sternly, eyeing him up and down with a look of distaste - though I had to admit some of it was forced - the sight in front of me not wholly unappealing.

The man’s upper lip curled at my comment, “Oh I can show you entertainment doll,” He purred threateningly, stepping even closer.

“Another step, and security will be in this room in less than 2 seconds, I guarantee it.” I warned him fiercely, standing tall and confident in my heels, determined now not give in under his intense blue stare.

He didn’t come any closer, but he also didn’t retreat, he just stood, a wide grin now stretching across his face and showing metal caps on the visible teeth, the shiny surface glinting in the overhead lights.

“So, tell me doll…” He growled lowly, placing his cane in front of him and leaning over on it so he came closer to me without taking a step, I scowled at him. “Who are you?”

“Who are you, and why are you here?” I asked instead, not willing to play his little game.

He grinned at me, “You don’t watch a lot of news do ya, doll?” He asked, a knowing gleam in his eyes that I didn’t like. I scowled at him moodily, “jeez doll, are you always this grumpy? He asked with a hint of mocking in his tone. “Won’t give without a take, hmm?” he asked with a tilt of his head, “Alright doll, first you, then me.”

I stared at him coldly, still refusing to be ordered around by this unusual man.

“Fine!” He moaned dramatically, exaggerating his eyes roll at my stubbornness. “I'll start.” He said, “I'm here to rob the place.”

At first, I thought this was just more of his seemingly twisted humour, but he sounded so serious…

“I'm calling security.” I stated, no longer wanting to put up with this strange man, and I made to move past him, heading towards the service phone I knew was out in the hallway.

“Ah ah ah, doll.” He tutted at me, swinging his arm out to catch me as I strode past him. He was stronger than his thin, chiselled face led me to believe and I could feel the muscles in his arm flex under his jacket as he wrestled me backwards. One step back from me was all he needed and he swiftly pulled his arm back, now pushing a sharp point into my stomach. I gasped, tensing my stomach, trying to withdraw it from the point, but too scared what he might do if I moved. “Don't be such a tattle tale,” He sang playfully in my ear and then placed more pressure on the knife, the point digging through my dress and into my skin. I was forced to step backwards, and he only eased up when I was back to my original position.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I demanded, though keeping my voice low to avoid making a huge scene over something I hoped I could handle.

He held up a finger to me, gesturing for me to wait, then, keeping the knife against my stomach, he used his other hand to dig into his jacket pocket to pull out a playing card which he handed over to me face down.

I took it wordlessly, wondering if he suddenly wanted to perform a magic trick. I frowned at him confused and turned the card over to reveal a joker.

I shook my head in confusion, “I don’t –“ I began, when I suddenly remembered. It was true, I didn’t watch a lot of local news, especially if nothing to do with stock markets – I didn’t have the time, I usually had someone else just produce a summary for me of all the daily costs and profits that would come in due to local occurrences – but I had heard the name Joker. An escape of Arkham Asylum and a crime lord on the streets of Gotham.

Was it time to get someone’s attention now? Should I scream?

Suddenly there was a finger inches away from my face, “Not a word doll.” He purred, pressing the knife harder into my stomach and I gasped.

“You're going to rob this place on your own?” I scoffed through the pain, trying to keep my cool, even if I was at knife point.

"Never underestimate a man without a plan!” He grinned sadistically at me and I could see the true sick and twisted nature in his eyes.

“Now doll…” He snarled dangerously, “Shall we continue?” He asked, his voice suddenly sickly sweet and painfully pleasant, “What is your name and what is it you do?”

I swallowed, trying not to move my stomach against the weapon too much. I was truly afraid for my life now, the truth of my situation only too clear now. “My name is Leah. I'm a partner of INK.” I quoted out as the knife bit into my skin.

“Wow, doll. A real successful business woman.” He seemed impressed, “Who are the other partners?” He asked, pushing even harder on the knife.

“Just my husband.” I gasped, scrunching my eyes closed at the pain, the pressure forcing me to bend over slightly.

He retracted the knife slightly, giving me a small amount of relief, “Your husband, hmm?” He asked, as though generally intrigued, “And where is he?”

I didn’t know why the psychotic clown wanted to know and I definitely didn’t want to answer – I wouldn’t sell out my husband to this criminal clown, but I also knew I was about to be skewered with a knife if I didn’t tell him. “Whatever you want with him you can take up with me!” I told him fiercely.

“Brave, doll, I see.” He muttered, nodding, “But that wasn’t an answer to the question, was it?”He snarled, “So, I’ll ask again,” He said, a fierceness in his voice this time that made me cower until his gaze, “Where. Is. He?”

I swallowed again, trying to embrace the pain like I knew some people were able to. I continued to refuse to answer, staring at him in a stubborn silence, fighting against the tears of pain that were threatening in the corners of my eyes.

“Come on now, doll.” He urged, his teeth clenched together like he was restraining himself from doing something, “It’s only a simple question of interest,” He sneered, “Promise I won't harm him.” He pleaded mockingly, but at the same time I felt the knife again, and I scrunched my face at the pain.

What was I going to do? He had promised not to hurt him after all. Sure, I doubted an Arkham patient and crime lord was going to be a man of his word, but it was better than nothing right? Or was that just the pain and alcohol talking?

I didn’t want to be the reason Mathew got hurt, but here I was being basically tortured into giving information.

Whilst I debated in my head, eyes on the floor, and partially doubled over in pain, the Joker leant over me, bending down to my ear, “If he was in your position, would he be as gallant for you?” His warm breath brushed past my ear and I wasn’t sure if I trembled or shivered, the movement causing the knife to cut a bit deeper.

Would he, though? I wondered. I wanted to say I couldn’t be sure, but deep down I felt like I knew the answer.

I pulled myself upright slightly, ignoring the protest of my skin as the blade point scraped down my skin. At the movement, the Joker released some of the pressure on the knife, giving me a brief relief from the pain, though the now-tender skin still stung with the memory.

I didn’t say anything, feeling the knife drop away completely as I turned my back on the Joker. I scanned the crowded room until my gaze fell on a group of three men in suits stood chatting, each holding a small glass of an amber liquid. My eyes focused on the tallest man, neatly shaven, his brown hair combed neatly back and in a smart black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath.

“Ahh...” the Joker breathed behind me, confirming that he had seen the man. “Now tell me doll, has he even spared a moment for you this evening, hmm?” He asked quietly in my ear, another shiver passing down my spine at his breath on my neck and how close he was behind me.

My eyes were glued to my husband’s figure, begging him to turn around and look at me, see the fear and panic in my eyes, if only for a moment.

But he didn't feel my gaze on the side of his face, or if he did, he chose to ignore it, continuing his conversation animatedly, without a care to the trauma his wife was experiencing across the room.

“Shame.” Purred the Joker behind me and I felt his hand drift to my hip, the knife point now digging into my back.

tags: @carouselcurls @6fish6 (I wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged in this as it's not Deadly voice - but the 2 I have tagged seemed to enjoy all my work so I thought you might want to read it?)

#joker fanfic #joker fan fiction #strictly business #strictly business part 1 #strictly business fan fiction #strictly business fanfic #joker x oc #joker x oc fan fiction #joker x oc fanfic #joker fanfiction #jokersenigma #jokersenigma fanfic #jokersenigma fan fiction #jokersenigma fanfiction

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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Ocean Eyes, Cherry Lips, Ivory Keys

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2747

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, I think that’s all

A/N: This is a headcanon I’ve had for a while that I’ve been wanting to write about 40s!Bucky, pre-War. I kinda want to write a series about it, so that might happen. For now, enjoy this little tidbit I’ve written, with the prompt of Occasion for HBC’s Lucky in Love Day 18! (This isn’t beta’d so please excuse mistakes.)

He’s something of a celebrity. A living legend. A God amongst humans. Starting as a kid in Brooklyn, his fanbase rapidly grew, expanding to Queens, Manhattan, even parts of New Jersey, just in the past few years.

You don’t get it. So what if he’s got cool blue eyes, soft chocolate hair, and a charming smile? Who cares if he’s got smooth moves and even smoother words? He’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. A talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him, but still just a man.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Most everyone knew his name, but there was a lot of mystery surrounding the actual character.

You just don’t see what all the fuss is about. You’ve never personally met him, or even seen him, but you know people who have. Your friend’s cousin even claims to have danced with him once. Not that that would be hard. You hear he’s never danced with the same bird twice, and, considering most start dancing in their teenage years, that’s a lot of dames.

It’s not that you’re not curious about him - if he’s actually as dashing as they say - but you’re not about to stop your life for him like some of your friends. They’re obsessed with getting his attention. With seeing if they’d be the one. The one to finally chain him down and tame him. The one he’d go steady with.

It feels like that’s all you ever talk about anymore. It was amusing at first, but now it’s just getting annoying. It’s been three years since that day in March of 1938, when your roommate ran into your room, plopping down onto your bed, before ranting and raving about the new ocean eyed piano player at her favorite bar. And since then, he’s been in your life without actually being in your life.

Speaking of, here you are. Listening to Lucy, MaryAnne, and Jean gushing over the man, trying to enjoy your milkshake.

“I heard from Sally that Thomas said that he knew the brother of one of his friend’s in high school!”

“That can’t be true! I heard from Billy, who heard from Martha, who was told by Ben, that he only had, like, one friend in high school.”

“You’re kidding, right? There’s no way a man like that had only one friend.”

“I hear he does boxing and that’s why he’s got a body sculpted like a Greek God.”

“Oh my God! MaryAnne!”

You rub your temples, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as the three burst into fits of giggles. If you have to hear one more word about-

“I heard he’s going to be playing at Georgie’s on Friday!”

Gasps echoed around the table. “No way! Georgie’s?”

You raise an eyebrow, this actually intriguing you. Georgie’s is a popular little hole in the wall, on the edge of being a speakeasy, which doubles as a pub and a dance hall in Brooklyn. It’s one of the best hang outs for kids like you and your girls, but it isn’t very high class. Maybe that’s why it’s one of the best. “Isn’t Georgie’s a little…cheap for him? He’s been playing at the best bars and restaurants for a while now.”

“It’s a classic in Brooklyn. Near his home, probably.”

“Do you think he lives near there?!”

“Ooo! Maybe we could find out!’

You scoff. “That,” gesturing to Lucy with your glass, you take a sip of your milkshake. “Is called stalking, my friend.”

Jean waves towards you dismissively. “I think he lives near Tin Pan Alley. That’s where he plays the most, after all. Georgie’s was probably just an old hang out for him and his pals.”

“Wait, wait,” you shake your head, a thought popping into your head. You turn to Lucy, confused. “How’d you find out he’s playing at Georgie’s anyways? Isn’t part of his whole act not telling anyone where he’s playing?”

Giving you a smirk and a wink, Lucy shrugs. “I’ve got my connections.”

You roll your eyes again, turning your attention back to your milkshake. “So?!” MaryAnne squealed. “We’re going on Friday, right?”

“Hell yes!”

“Absolutely!”

“Not.” You mumble, causing the other three to stare at you incredulously.

“Not?!”

“I’m not wasting my Friday night going to see some fella you all have a crush on. Especially when he might not even be there.”

Your friends groan, exchanging glances. “And what’re you gonna do?” Jean crossed her arms with a pointed look on her face. “Sit down and read a book like you always do?”

You huff. “I like reading, sue me. I don’t get a lot of time to myself. You know that new girl’s been gumming up the works and I’ve had to stay late to fix her mistakes all week.”

“This is exactly what you need, then! Come out, have a drink, jive a little-”

You look up at that, an amused kind of smirk on your lips. “Jive? Me and my clumsy ass?”

You all laugh. “Okay, so maybe not dance, but c’mon! It’ll be snazzy, you’ll see!”

“Fine, fine.” Standing up with a sigh, you collect your things, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “I’ve gotta scram.”

“We’ll see you on Friday, right?”

You give a small smile, shooting them a wink. “I guess I can make it.”

***************

Friday comes a lot faster than you anticipate. You dress up; a navy blue dress going to your knees with white, heart shaped buttons and a bow around the waist. The shoes you’re wearing are your nice black and white Mary Janes. Lips painted deep red, and hair pinned back in loose curls, you glance over yourself in a mirror. You’ll admit; you look damn good. You don’t wanna go, but you might as well try to have some fun since you are.

It’s a cool evening, early May meaning the summer humidity hasn’t hit just yet. You didn’t even think about bringing a coat, but you start to regret the decision as you start walking. MaryAnne, who you actually room with, already left, being way too excited to stay put.

It doesn’t take you long - you live on the border of Queens and Brooklyn - but your feet are more sore than you’d like when you arrive.

“I knew you’d come!” Lucy grins, coming up besides you and linking her arm in yours. MaryAnne comes up on your other side and does the same to your free arm.

“Where’s Jean?”

“Where do you think? She already found a Joe to swing with.”

You laugh. “Of course she has! So is your dreamboat here?”

The grins that are immediately on their faces answer your question and they quickly drag you inside.

It’s hot and crowded and dim. Skirts with their beaus, guys with their broads, swinging and dancing to the lively music of the band on stage. Smoke from cigarettes, pipes, and cigars is evident in the air as they neared the bar portion of the building, mixing with the boisterous sound of laughter and chatter.

“Everyone’s talking about it! He’s here, but he hasn’t played yet. We’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of him, but we think he’s in a back room.” The dramatic sigh MaryAnne gives makes you laugh a little.

“Okay, khaki whackies. Let’s get a drink.”

You, just as you thought would happen tonight, are left alone at the bar by your friends who quickly found partners to dance with. A few men asked you, but you have never been a good dancer.

You’re lost in thought, running a finger gently around the rim of your cup, when a voice sounded besides you, pulling you out of your thoughts, a slight rasp to the otherwise mellifluous voice.

“You gonna drink that, doll, or just stare at it all night?”

You raise an eyebrow at the jest, turning your head, only to have your breath hitch. What a specimen. Ocean blue eyes, fluffy brown curls, cherry pink lips. A white dress shirt is pulled over his broad chest, gray dress pants hugging thick thighs, matching suit jacket across wide shoulders. He has a blue, black, and white plaid tie around his neck and you can see the edges of his blue suspenders under his blazer. He’s put together, but it’s nothing special, a normal Sunday best suit, that much you can tell.

“Uh, not all night.” You look back to the drink, before looking at the clock with a hum, tilting your head playfully. “Maybe another hour.”

He chuckles, gesturing for the bartender. “Tell me this, sweetheart. What is a beautiful dame like yourself doin’ drinking alone?”

“I’m not very good on my feet, I’m afraid.” You laugh nervously, taking a sip of your drink.

“Don’t come here often, then?”

“Only for special occasions.”

“What’s the special occasion this evenin’, sugar?”

You shrug. “My friends dragged me here. They’re practically in love with this guy who’s supposedly playing the piano tonight. James Barnes. Have you ever heard of him?”

He chuckles, a grin pulling his lips upwards. “Yeah. Yeah I’ve heard of ‘im. Not a big fan yourself?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. I just don’t understand the fascination with him. Let the man be.”

“I agree.” He hums with a nod, grabbing the glass of whiskey the bartender set in front of him. “I actually know him.”

“Really?” You look at him in interest.

He tilts his head with a smile towards you that makes you melt. “Yeah. He feels the same. He just likes playin’. That’s all. He didn’t want all the attention. He gets enough without that.”

You raise an eyebrow, finishing off your drink. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m Bucky by the way.”

You eye his hand, grabbing it after a second, letting him bring your knuckles to his lips. “Y/N.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, mama.” He shifts his body more towards you, running a hand through his hair. “You said you ain’t fond of dancin’?”

Shaking your head, you quickly defend yourself, “no, no. I like dancing. I’m just not very good. Got two left feet.”

He smirks, tongue poking out to run over those plump lips of his. “Well, with the right partner, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Are you asking me to dance, Bucky?”

“Not if you’re gonna say no.” He responds with a toothy grin, leaning his elbows on his knees.

You sigh and shake your head. “I’m afraid tonight’s not your night, pal. I just can’t seem to get myself in the mood.”

He hums, leaning back. “Is it the music? Too fast for you?”

“I wouldn’t mind if they slowed it down some, I suppose.”

He smiles cheekily. “I can help with that. Hold on.”

You grin at him, nodding. “I’ll be here.”

Watching him stand and make his way over to the stage, you quirk an eyebrow. He seems to know the band well, if the handshakes and the claps on the back have anything to say about it. He says something to the lead, who nods with a grin, shooting him a wink. Bucky laughs, but you can see a tint of pink dusting his cheeks, making you wonder what they were saying.

He makes his way back over as the band shifts tones, the animated swing changing to a slow jazzy number. Bucky beams at you, holding out his hand as he approaches. “Care to dance?”

You purse your lips, narrowing your eyes, but taking his hand anyways. “How’d you do that? Do you work here?’

“Uh…somethin’ like that.” He states vaguely, leading you to the dance floor with the other swaying couples. Pulling you as close as appropriate, his hands resting politely on your waist, he starts moving you side to side.

“That’s not ominous.” You place your hands on his shoulders, following his lead as you stare at your feet.

He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin to lift your gaze. “I’ve gotcha, doll. I won’t let you fall.”

“I’m going to step on your feet.” You explain.

“Nah. You’re doin’ great. You just need to get outta your head. Relax a little. Tell me something about yourself.”

You hum. “Like what?”

“Anything.”

“Uh, okay…I have a roommate who is one of the girls who begged me to come, I’m a secretary - I know, boring - and…I dunno. I like reading.”

His eyes lighten at this. “Reading? Whaddya like to read?”

“Different things. Depends on my mood. I’m re-reading The Hobbit for, like, the twentieth time right now.”

“I love The Hobbit.” Bucky grins, making you smile back. “I read it almost as soon as it came out.”

“Me too! I was planning on reading it tonight but,” you gesture around. “Here I am.”

Bucky lips pull up softly, his hold on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he pulls you closer. “Well, as much as I love that book, I’m glad you came out tonight.”

Giving him a little tease, you tap your chin thoughtfully. “Eh…I think I’d rather be at home.”

He pinches your side gently, making you squeal and squirm. “That hurt, sugar. That physically hurt me. C’mon, mama, your gonna say you aren’t havin’ a good time?”

“I just met you ten minutes ago.”

“Well, sweetheart, if you think we’re movin’ too fast, I won’t introduce you to my folks just yet.”

You laugh, blinking up at him. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Buck.”

The two of you rock for a little while longer, before the band stops, announcing they’re taking a break and a special guest is going to play a little something.

“Maybe James Barnes is here.” You say, a bit of intrigue lacing your tone, trying to see through the crowds of people who started gathering around the stage to catch a glimpse of the charming pianist. “I see why he would be over the attention.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs, almost sadly, giving you an apologetic look. “Listen, I’ve gotta go work for a bit, but I’ll be right back.”

You smirk. “So you do work here?”

“Um…kinda. You’ll see.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words, but he’s kissing your knuckles and walking away. You frown, but can’t think more on it when three young women are on you, babbling about their dates.

“Who were you dancing with, Y/N? He was cute!”

You roll your eyes, feeling yourself heat up, and not because of the many bodies in the vicinity. “Just…some guy.”

“C’mon, c’mon! We’ve gotta get a good spot to actually see him!”

You huff, letting the drag you through the crowd, shoving their way towards the front just as a familiar deep voice spoke.

“Thanks for comin’ out, everyone. I hope your havin’ a good night. Let’s get this hop started, yeah?”

Your eyes widen when you finally catch sight of the man sitting at the piano with a polite smile on his features. He catches your eye and shoots you a wink, before his fingers start flying over the keys. The beam that he gets while tickling the gleaming ivories, his azure eyes lighting up, and you can’t fight the smile you get. He looks so relaxed, so invigorated, that it makes you happy just watching him.

“Oh my God! Weren’t you dancing with him?!” Lucy shook your shoulder obnoxiously, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, mesmerized with the way he played like it’s the only thing he wanted to do with his life. Which, as you remember his words, ‘he just likes playin’. That’s all.’ you figure it is the only thing he wanted to do with his life.

You just danced with James Barnes…and he’s just as perfect as everyone says.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it, your friends jumping around you, trying to get every little detail of him from you, when your heart skips a beat and your brain malfunctions. Bucky had started up another song, slower and more intimate, and he’s looking right at you.

You find yourself doing something you never thought you would; you’re swooning over James Barnes, smiling like an idiot, heat blooming up your neck and flaming your face. And yes, he’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. But he’s a talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him.

And now that includes you.

#cjsinkythoughts #cjswriting #bucky barnes x reader #40s!bucky barnes x reader #40s!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #40s!bucky barnes #40s!bucky #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #40s!bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky barnes x y/n #hbc lucky in love #pianist!bucky barnes #💙🦾#💙🦾🎹#💙🦾📻#💙🦾📻🎹

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wellhalesbells · 8 years ago

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tagged by @gryffindorkwinchester (thanks, dollface!) to list my top 5 otps. this is a lot harder than i remember; i’m not forming really solid attachments to things these days, i’m more like: hrm, that could also be a thing, rather than SEE THAT DOLL? [swoops towards other doll] NOW THEY KISS AND THEY ONLY KISS EACH OTHER. YOU GO AWAY [shifty eyes] I’M GONNA MAKE THEM DO MORE STUFF. but i shall try, in order we’ve got:

TEEN WOLF. well. stiles stilinski and derek hale. will these assholes let me go? no, they will not let me go. and now bohemian rhapsody is stuck in my head. these two are dbags just all around. they are the perfect balance of antagonism and respect and also complementary broken-ness and i just cannot. i have no can ability with these two. because they both have demons and protective instincts to a fucking fault and the sequence and pressure with which they push my buttons are the most perfect to ever and i hate them.

THE BRIGHT SESSIONS [spoilers abound]. oh god, this is a new one and i hate myself for having it because IT WILL NEVER BE SATISFIED. i know that and i still can’t fucking stop it. so, you guys know how i’ve been obsessively listening to the bright sessions? yeah. that’s still a thing. and no, it’s not caleb and adam (although they are imperfectly perfect together - AND, ADDED BENEFIT, CANON). the two i ship are so not fucking canon, dammit. it’s [mumbles, embarrassed] mark and damien. I KNOW, OKAY, I KNOW. i’m not proud of it, and i’m definitely not proud of how much i need it. the obsession is real. but think about it, okay, THINK--ABOUT--IT. damien’s power is that he can compel anyone to want what he wants. we know that he had this ability as far back as thirteen (when his parents fucking ABANDONED him because he said he wanted to be alone, assholes), damien does a lot of questionable things but i don’t think he’s a genuinely evil person, morally flexible, sure, but evil, i don’t think so and i hope not. he clearly cares about mark at least on some level, seems genuinely surprised when mark says, “i must be such a disappointment to you,” and wants to know if mark would stay with him regardless of his gift. so. he cares. [coughs] i got off track with feels, sorry. OKAY. so damien has his gift at thirteen, think about what that means for his sex life? i’ve got to imagine when he’s amped up (aka in boner town) he’s got less control over his power than ever and i don’t think he would ever compel anyone in bed - or risk compelling anyone in bed, i don’t think he’s that guy, i really don’t. now mark’s power, to duplicate other atypical’s powers, if he can actually get that up and running? that means that he and damien would cancel each other out. there would finally be no question of ‘are they doing this because they want to or because i want them to want to.’ mark is the only person we’ve seen damien forge an actual connection to AND THEY COULD FUCKING WORK, OKAY, because even mind-whammied right now, mark puts up with ZERO of damien’s shit and i just... i want this so much. [sobs quietly] SOMEONE JOIN ME IN THIS SHIPPY HELL, PLEASE????

MARVEL. okay, well, if we’re going marvel then that is such an easy one because wade wilson and peter parker are basically on their way to going steady, canonically. there was definitely a dick joke last issue and just [pinches bridge of nose] they’re not even trying to hold onto the hetero anymore. spider-man’s dealing with new awkward feelings in which deadpool is legitimately (and admitted to in black and white typeface, muthafuckaz) his best fucking friend and deadpool is on the side of: also we could date, and get married, and maybe you could help raise ellie. IF YOU WANT TO. while peter’s pretty much at: i think i might... want to? and it’s a beautiful fucking thing tbh. in all seriousness, if you’re not reading their series, you must hate spandex and idiots in love. WHO HATES THAT, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU

HANNIBAL. that’s right, hannibal and will, aka my only canon pairing on here (that i’m sure belongs on the list anyway). they mean so much to me because they’re so dark and manipulative and intertwined, and the way they exercise those huge brains of theirs thrills me. i mean, they admitted they couldn’t survive the separation from each other and THEY JUST CAN’T. because no one else will ever, ever, in a thousand million years, be able to do what they can do - and fulfill - for each other and that is a beautiful, terrible thing. [happy sighs]

okay, i’m gonna round this out with a pair i’m noooot totally sure of yet but that i’m pretty sure WILL be number five, once i’ve got all of the canon under my belt. CAPTIVE PRINCE. so i’ve read the first two books, collectively in five days (and no one fucking said on twitter when i said i was starting to prince’s gambit: hey you’re going to devour that in two days so MAYBE order the third book now. no one said that and now i hate all of them. naturally. anyway, so now kings rising isn’t coming until today and i’m considering faking some sort of intestinal issue so i can wait at the mailbox for it... but i digress). i already ship damen and laurent pretty hard and only with each other but, like, the kicker (for me) already happened. wherein i’ve had damen and laurent dreams since starting the second book (which is when i got really into the series, the first book was... less for me, the second book was ALL FOR ME) and that is when i know i am well and truly fucked on a pair so, i’m going out on a limb, and guess that the third book is only going to throw me in deeper and this is gonna become a serious-bones otp.

i’m gonna tag, erm, @andavs, @rrahl, @spider999now, @pttucker, @i-sveikata, @thepsychicclam, @tryslora, @alocalband, @asocialfauxpas, @callunavulgari, @jesper-fahey, @squeeingfangirl, @midnightisquiet, @piratefalls and @littlecofiegirl! enjoy, losers, this game is hard and you have to play it, that is the law according to the rules. otherwise, you owe me a rubber duck, of MY choosing (that part is the most important).

#sterek #teen wolf #the bright sessions #spideypool #marvel #hannigram #hannibal #captive prince #meme #meme answers #(i have no idea what mark and damien's ship tag would be AND I'M PRETTY SURE I'M THE PERSON WHO WOULD BE MAKING IT UP #BECAUSE I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO WANTS IT THIS MUCH BECAUSE THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME)#[cries quietly]#dark #btw i have pages of rubber ducks pulled up so... y'know i'm prepared in the event of insubordination

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